#i'd attempt to make a prediction but there's no shot i'd be able to predict what's coming. i'm ready for the ride tho

[blockofhoney]

cannot fucking wait to see a storyline featuring my favorite bedrockverse character: taylor swift

[eriexplosion]

Bad Batch Season 3 Episode Title Predictions

Okay, so I've poked at the trailer enough that I think I can do a series of predictions that is likely to topple like a house of cards immediately but hey what else is this month of waiting for? Here is my very rough outline of what I'd love to see in season 3 based on nothing but the trailer and Vibes.

Episodes 1-3, "Confined" "Paths Unknown" & "Shadows of Tantiss"

These three seem pretty obvious, we'll likely catch up with Omega and Crosshair first in Confined, which is likely where we'll see these clips from the trailer:

As well as probably the (SAD AS HELL) discussion between Omega and Crosshair shown in the Celebrations trailer. Mix their scenes in with catching up on Hunter, Wrecker, & Echo - I'm actually really attached to the idea that Echo is searching for Tech, having not given up on him. This also parallels to Omega talking to Crosshair, about not giving up - I think that's going to be a theme this season. Can't run away, can't give up. But if Echo is searching for Tech then it might just be Hunter and Wrecker right now, likely giving us a few of their action shots together.

I do think that Omega and Crosshair's escape attempt is going to be relatively early in the season - either at the end of Paths Unknown or the very beginning of Shadows of Tantiss. I went into it more in this post and paired up a few shots of Tantiss' defense systems as well as the crashed ship with Omega and Crosshair. From the look of it, they likely don't make it off planet due to the damage and crash land and have to try to escape and, in the process, are split up and lose each other. Possibly they are able to contact the batch, who are on the way to try and get them when things go wrong.

My guess is that by the end of this three parter we'll have Crosshair reunited with the batch, or about to be, Omega on her own trying to evade Hemlock and his men, and somewhere along the line our reveal that Tech is alive because at this point I can't see them not aiming at a comeback with how hard they're trying to keep his 'death' on all our minds.

Episode 4 - "A Different Approach"

If Crosshair didn't meet up with the batch by the end of the previous three, then probably he does it here, I just get the sense that he's been gone for so long that we need to get him zipped up with the others early in the season, especially since we'll have several reunions to get to by the end of the series.

With Omega still separated but hopefully out of Tantiss at this point, they have to adjust how they plan to find her. She's now a moving target, because she's on the run still and likely unable to contact them. Echo will meet back up with them here, I think, maybe with info on wherever Tech is (my prediction: still on Eriadu in some fashion, either held with the good old pirates & smugglers or possibly by Tarkin himself, but I'm hoping the pirates & smugglers) and Rex will likely come too. I do think that they have their exchange about losing brothers here but rather than being about Tech, as the trailer implied, it's about Nemec or Fireball (or both) who possibly died getting the information. I just feel like those two are not long for this world, unfortunately.

We'll also follow Omega here, now completely alone for the first time. Previously she always had the batch, then she at the very least had Crosshair. Now she has neither and she has to try and figure out what to do. The title does dual work here, both the batch and Omega have to find a different approach in order to try and reunite.

Episode 5 - "The Return"

I feel like this is going to be a mostly Omega centered episode. Where is she returning to is the question, I still think that this refers to a place rather than a person returning. Pet theory - Cid put out several bounties on her to try and get her tracked down and rescued and she gets a blast from the past when she's grabbed by Bane a second time and taken to Ord Mantell. She of course is Not trusting Grandma Crimes anymore, but Cid is trying to redeem herself and fix what she broke.

While this is going on, the parallel return is the batch getting to Eriadu in order to set up the two parter.

Episode 6 & 7 - "Infiltration" & "Extraction

With the batch set up, they're ready to go get Tech from wherever he's been stuck! These two are likely more action oriented, with a little bit of Difficulty between Crosshair and the others after so long apart, but they find their footing well enough and begin to work together in order to get Tech out. They're 5/6ths of the way to a full family, they just have one more to get a hold of!

Episode 8 - "Bad Territory"

Getting fully into Pet Theories here but I think that this shot from the trailer

is Batuu - going mostly from the distinctive looking spires here. Another possible Omega focused episode, Cid is taking her to Batuu to cash in a favor. Not one owed to her - one owed to Omega, by Roland Durand. (LISTEN HERE'S HOW INFESTED BEING RELEVANT CAN STILL WIN-)

Anyway the focus here is on Roland trying to link her up with the batch. This might be a good place for Fennec to make her reappearance too, working from the Batch's end.

Episode 9 - "The Harbinger"

I'll be real I have no idea, my ideas started getting thin right about here, but I will say the title sounds like a great place for Ventress and the Teth monastery to make their appearance (I'm assuming they'll be together) but how they would actually play into the plot if they appeared here is unclear. I do think that we'll finally get everyone together though or at least be on our way to it, in order to bring us to our next two parter.

Episode 10 & 11 - "Identity Crisis" & "Point of No Return

The team is back together and all is not well, because everyone is still suffering a severe case of the Issues. No one can agree on what to do, where to go, with the identity crisis being the batch unsure of how to move forward together. Omega of course gets immediately stressed out by it all because it seems like she finally got her family back together only for it to immediately start falling apart. Wrecker is probably right there with her. Tech & Phee have their moment together, Echo still thinks they need to fight and I think that Crosshair is going to tend towards that too. Hunter at least absolutely wants to retire to Pabu right now immediately, but as the show has been trying to demonstrate, avoiding things won't be an option because-

Point of No Return is the dreaded invasion of Pabu. The Empire followed them here in order to retrieve Omega, and they barely escape, evacuating as many of Pabu's residents as possible. Shep doesn't make it out and is imprisoned.

Episode 12 - "Juggernaut"

This is where like a full quarter of the trailer comes from because they can show us several exterior tank shots without showing who's in the damn tank. I think the point of this one will be to get Shep back, since it does look like him that Wrecker is carrying. We know that Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker at a minimum will go in, but I think likely Omega and Echo are there (likely together thus being why we don't see much of Echo in the trailer) and Tech might be with Phee.

Episodes 13-15 - "Into the Breach" "Flash Strike" "The Calvary Has Arrived"

Grouping these three together because I have no idea what happens here except that we're likely going to be mounting an attack to take down Hemlock and, hopefully, free all of the clones that he's been experimenting on. The time for hiding is over, they have to take a stand against the Empire. Not because they're soldiers, but because they're a family, and the other clones are still their brothers.

For the first time, we don't leave our own behind can get followed and they're going in.

The Calvary Has Arrived is not a title I can see going dark to be quite honest, it's more of a full circle moment, it's the Batch becoming who they're meant to be, a family that fights for each other and for the other clones, I will cling to the idea of a happy ending (hopefully one that sets up a continuation that might focus more on Rex and his clone rebellion) until it's ripped from my cold dead hands thank you very much. I think that after the family has spent two seasons absolutely torn apart, becoming increasingly fractured, the best ending is one that has them finally united, all six of them, for the first time.

Like Omega said. They're more than soldiers. They're a family.

[5eraphim]

Medic or Engineer with someone who ran away on purpose (so that they would later find them) and what they would want to do to them? Maybe nsfw if you're up for it? New to being depraved for being miserable...

Characters: Medic 🕊 and Engineer 🦦 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M 

Content Warnings: Yandere, forced relationship, medfet, branding, unhealthy relationship dynamics, kidnapping, drugging, smut

Word Count: 3k

MASTER LIST

(Song Inspo)

Ok so, since I'm a hyper-simp for the both of them I couldn't possibly choose between the two and wrote for the both of them. (Because this is a damn good prompt, and it's not like inspiration was difficult at all!) Thank you for the request, hope you enjoy it!

Medic 🕊

If you managed to escape Medic, you'd need to plan for months and calculate every variable, as you likely only had one shot to try and escape while his guard was down. Knowing if he caught you, there's no way you'd make it this far again. Ignoring how hard it was to hide your plans from Medic for this long, you needed your coordinates and timing nothing less than perfect and a little luck on your side.

When Medic discovers you'd attempted to run away, like any yandere, he's obviously furious upon realizing this but not in a purely rage-driven sense. Instead, the Medic would feel something much closer to mania, not only enraged but undeniably excited at the idea of hunting you down.

He never thought he'd have the privilege of something like this. He thought he had you so precisely under his control. He can't help but feel quite the thrill here! He's not only ready to rise to the challenge but is convinced he will win.

His first order of business would be to find out if you escaped on your own or if you were helped by someone else behind his back. After that, it would be easy for him to thoroughly search your room to find any scrap of evidence another person might've left behind. 

You'd done well to hide your escape plans, he'd give you that, but now that you were gone, there was no way to conceal any clues left behind. If you were to get help from another for the escape attempt, odds were it'd be another doctor the both of you worked with. Someone who knows Medic enough to know his basic schedule, when to try and help you break out, as well as being one who already felt distrustful or uncomfortable around Medic and could be swayed into helping you escape him. 

The Medic wouldn't hesitate to use force and physical interrogation to get information out of this person. He will find you through any means necessary and won't hesitate to kill the doctor after he gets his information. Medic would kill anyone who stood between the two of you, and he does so with great pleasure in this particular instance.

If you were working alone, Medic could estimate where you went based on what you took with you, approximating how fast you could move on your own and knowing you well enough personally to guess where you'd likely turn to first.

Medic is a scary mix of a delusional and lucid yandere, able to switch between the two seemingly randomly, making it very difficult to plan against him. On the other hand, he's hyper-vigilant when around you and thus can predict your next moves with eerie precision. It was only a matter of time before he caught up with you. The outcome you saw as the worst possible, he saw as inevitable.

When he does find you, he'd definitely play up his more delusional side. He'd cover you in kisses, telling you how scared he was, asking how long you were "lost" for, and acting as though he had no idea you were plotting against him like this. It was all part of his act to get you home as fast as possible before letting you have it once he got you safely back in his custody.

"I always told you I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you. Of course, I'd find you. Now let's get you home."

At the moment of interception, your only option is to play along. No way you could challenge him physically, and if he really did think you were just lost, maybe he wouldn't be so mad? It was devastating to have your hopes of escaping dashed so soon, but you were smart enough to know it was in your best interest to cut your losses and return home with him without a fight.

Maybe he'd even keep this "delusional" act going after the two of you returned home. Cooing how much he missed you, kissing you all over, and doting on you as if you'd been gone months rather than a few days tops. If you thought you were so clever, acting so brash and cruel while his back was turned, he felt it was only fair to give you a taste of your own medicine.

Medic never had much luck with traditional medical methodology and was quite excited to try something more "experimental" and "alternative" to train you to behave and eliminate any remaining shreds of resilience. Specifically, electroconvulsive therapy.

When you awoke the following day, you knew Medic was ready to enact his revenge. You were bound to an examination table, thick leather cuffs wrapping around your knees, ankles, arms, wrist, torso, and neck. You were forced to feel the cold, dense, restrictive leather of nearly all the cuffs as you'd been stripped down to a scant hospital gown with nothing underneath. It was a while before you even registered the foreign-looking device connected to your head with more leather straps and wires and an odd mouth-guard thing you couldn't manage to spit out, no matter how hard you tried. 

Medic entered not long after, greeting you chipper as ever, wasting no time explaining his latest theory and hypothesis.

"You probably think I'm mad at you. Quite the opposite, however. I'm worried. Acting irrationally, reckless self-endangerment, incongruity with reality- I fear that you'll do something truly regrettable if I don't do something soon. I may not know how to take away your pain, but I can train you. I can teach you to not act out so well, thoughtlessly."

The Medic would stroke the side of your head with his fingers so softly, with such love, all while looking down at you with pure malice. He knew this would hurt, and he knew this likely wouldn't "fix" you, but he wanted to let you know what happened to disobedient little patients who try to run away. He wanted to show you what happened when you tried to resist his treatments. Medic knew this would instill a necessary fear within you, enough to realistically prevent you from ever trying to escape again.

You were kept under lock and key for the next few days in the Medic's examination room, as you weren't of sound mind to be trusted anywhere else. And you would remain here until the Medic determined your "condition" improved.

While you were in his captivity, he'd use your fear of electroconvulsive therapy to enact other less painful yet completely invasive treatments. He had much fun playing doctor with you while you were in this state. Though he also began visiting you late into the night with sedative pills and concoctions, he'd composed to lull you into a more susceptible state of mind. Taking advantage of your body, knowing you were powerless to stop him like this.

He'd also slip you hallucinogenic drugs to intensify your fear and paranoia, especially when left alone. Finally, he'd use this moment to enact every fucked up sadistic power fantasy he'd dreamed of before now on you. Watching with utmost joy as any format resilience you might've clung to is mitigated beyond repair.

He wouldn't enact a complete mind break. However, he might not want you to ever try and escape again, but he wants you to be fully aware of what he's doing as he abuses you and turns your own body against you while you can do nothing about it.

Medic absolutely gets off on the sight of you all tied up and helpless. It's so seductive watching you trying to break free and escape. He could watch you like this for hours, even when he's not touching you. It's all the more alluring given how much dignity he's taken from you, forcing you into one of his thin, easily rippable hospital gowns with nothing more to hide yourself with from him.

He could keep you hooked up and hidden here forever, but he won't give in to the temptation. He must let you out if he wants you to maintain a fraction of your fighting spirit and cognizance. Ironically giving you a bit of time alone to heal up and recover until the next time he wants to play doctor with you.

Engineer 🦦

Unlike Medic, who, despite his ire, would also be amused by the situation, Engie is beyond pissed. He was so pissed it would take a decent amount of time before he could calm down enough to figure out how he would find you. A situation like this would be an absolute nightmare for someone like Engie, who is prone to jealousy and insecurity. This would really bring out his worst, and he instantly takes this personally, not only on account of trying to run away but by triggering his insecurities.

In a situation where you could be in danger, Engie would typically be concerned for your safety, as a very protective yandere, but not when he's so distracted by the betrayal. All he cares about now is getting you home as fast as possible through any means necessary.

Despite it all, Engie can't help but feel a little impressed you'd managed to escape in the first place. He spared no precaution fortifying the area he kept you while he was away, and objectively speaking, Engie would be one of, if not the hardest yandere to escape from. Clearly, you'd been planning this for some time now. There was no way you were lucky enough to, by chance, evade his traps.

Unlike Medic, who would investigate where you were before you managed to escape, Engie would use his excellent public reputation to his advantage. He's well-liked by just about everyone, and if he were to round the town asking other people if they'd seen his "special friend," no one would suspect a thing. As far as they know, he's just a nice guy, the type to look out for everyone, and if he was so worried about you, clearly you needed to be found as soon as possible. 

Sure, you could do your best to move quickly and hide from Engie the best you could, but no one can hide for long when the better part of an entire town is working together to try to find you and bring you home.

Engie wouldn't need to ask others to help him find you. He's just so likable and dependable. Who wouldn't want to help someone like that in need? They were blissfully unaware of his darker "inner-self," and because of this, working as fast as possible to reunite the two of you. Even if you managed to make it far enough to reach the outskirts of town, it wouldn't be long until the others caught up with you. Trying to run further now would only spell more trouble, so you're forced to surrender without much of a fight.

At best, you might've begged the first few people who managed to track you down not to bring you home to Engie to no avail as they decided to follow their loyalties to their dear friend rather than to pay attention to the visible fear which consumed you. But, unfortunately, this begging did nothing to stop the well-intentioned yet painfully unaware men from bringing you back to the Engineer. You could plea them not to try to convince them Engie was hurting you, but no one would believe you, and it was only a matter of time until you found yourself right back in his arms.

When the two of you are brought together again, he embraces you affectionately. Thanking everyone for their help, no doubt putting on a charming show of two lovers together again, only reinforcing the notion he really did love you with all his heart.

He can't fool you, however. And even as he holds you close, pouring his heart out about how much he loves you and misses you, begging you never to scare him like that again, you know he's doing this for the crowd. And you're all too aware of the hostile look in his eye as he regards you, almost daring you to try and fight back now, like any of them would believe you over him. Like he was challenging you to ever try and run away again, as though you'd make it any further this time.

Initially, you're convinced he'll drag you back to the house so he can get right to enacting your punishment. To your surprise, however, he instead invites the guys back to his place, saying he owed everyone a beer after that and how they ought to spend the night celebrating after such a miserable day. Of course, Engie knows if he chooses instead to keep the others around a bit longer, not only is he reinforcing his "good guy" image, But you'll be more on edge having no idea when he'll punish you for what you'd done. (The beer being another pleasant upside, naturally.)

It was a rough evening for you, Engie's arms around you all night while you were constantly on edge, practically flinching at his every move. The anticipation was hardly comparable when you eventually discovered what he had planned to punish you.

While you didn't manage to make it very far, nor were you gone for too long, Engie began planning how he would get his revenge against you. To show you how backstabbers were taken care of down where he was from, from the moment he realized you managed to escape. Though it didn't take him long to decide what he wanted, he was excited all the same.

While Engie might've come from a long line of Engineers, he still grew up in a relatively Rural area and had many neighbors and family members who worked as farm hands and livestock keepers. So he reckoned he outta followed their example and used their techniques to handle runaways. After all, it would be easy for him to get his hands on the machinery or, better yet, construct it himself from scratch.

He considered if he were better off branding you from the start, but it hardly mattered now. When you awoke the next day stripped bare, gagged, limbs bound together and chained to the floor, only slightly able to witness the strange device heating up in the corner of the room, you knew at that moment you were more scared than you'd ever been in your entire life.

You weren't even aware Engie was watching you until you heard a low chuckle you instantly identified as his. It chilled you to think about how long he'd been looming overhead watching until you fully came to your senses.

"You were really bold trying to escape like that. Now Let's see if you can be so bold in taking your punishment."

It was a nightmare come to life, not only to be back under his control but while being naked and helpless to stop whatever he had planned for you. All you could do was watch with wide, horrified eyes as he brandished what you realized, much to your dismay, a brander. His eyes were entirely fixated on the flesh of your outer upper thigh. 

He gave you no mercy as he drew closer before pressing the miserable device down on your skin with firm, unshaken hands. You wailed out in pain below, the gag doing practically nothing to mask your agony. It was torture, but Engie merely watched you, unblinking and apathetic to your pain.

He'd keep you like for at least another 12 hours. He'd be sure to dress your wounds as needed, but you were still forced to remain naked without anything to protect your modesty, and he loved it. Engie was free to do as he pleased to you while you were like this, to photograph, tease, spit on, whatever he wanted you were forced to endure.

He'd wait until you were fully asleep to free you, making sure not to agitate your still-healing wounds as he returned you to the bedroom, where you were finally granted some soft cotton pajamas to cover up with. Though you knew from that moment on you'd never feel properly covered again, now that he'd seen you in such a defiled state.

It'd be a long time before you were allowed out of the bedroom. Though Engie might consider bringing other guys around more often, he loved to see you so well-behaved in front of others, never daring to break the illusion of your idyllic romance ever again.

Additional spicy headcanons pertaining to both of them 🕊🦦

Medic and Engie are possessive and would keep you in a collar from now on. A very low-key way of reminding you of your place in the relationship and what happens when you try to make it out on your own. Additionally, they use this to make you feel more like their personal property than their lover.

Would get off on the idea of training you to bow or kneel before them. It's not enough for them to hear you say who you belong to. They need to see it as well. (You always did look so lovely down on your knees anyhow.)

Especially in the first few days following your capture, they would use your increased fear and loss of morale against you, knowing you're all the easier to coerce into pleasing them sexually. As though this kind of appeasement would actually convince either of the men to go easy on you. The pleasure is all the more satisfying as you can barely conceal your fear.

Would start recording you during times like this. Getting ample footage of you in compromising positions and lewd audio recordings without your knowledge or consent. Knowing they could use the footage as blackmail against you in the future as just another tidbit of leverage to hold over you if you try to escape again. Letting you know you have no chance of making a new life for yourself, a life away from them ever again.

They love to continue mocking you long after the ordeal. Suggesting you try and escape again. Maybe you'll make it a little further this time! Taking great joy in ridiculing you for ever thinking you could run, treating your life and freedom as though it's all just some game to them. 

[saintshelby]

Brother I only just discovered that you also WRITE. You are very talented and I'd like to ask if you'd please be considering to do some more

Thanks so much for the kind words! I actually did have plans for the next chapter of Afterlife but I sort of lost the plot and haven't been able to pick it back up.

Just for you, here's a piece of a prequel chapter I never posted. Hope you enjoy it. 💛

It haunted him in the late hours of the night, when he closed his eyes for a moment's rest. If he was idle for just a fraction of a moment too long, it all came flooding back. It tormented him, the image of Alfie's body laying lifeless on that fucking beach. The blood soaking into his hair, staining the beautiful white sands. And the pain of being shot in turn did nothing to stifle the despair Tommy had taken with him long after he'd returned to his manor full of ghosts. Because, at that moment, he genuinely thought he could walk away from all of it.

But he couldn't. And he still fucking can't.

Tommy returns to the scene of his crime at regular intervals under the express and explicit understanding that they would be continuing their previous business arrangement. It would have been a waste to let things come to an end, after all. It was Tommy's suggestion. Alfie agreed. Bygones being bygones, he had said. Considering their past, Alfie’s particular standing, Tommy's wild ambition, for all intents and purposes and absolutely nothing more. But it was, of course, a complete fucking lie. That's the lie he tells himself. The lie Alfie goes along with. The lie Tommy wants desperately to be true.

And though he tried to stop, tried to give up the pretense, it was that same powerful longing that he hadn't the strength to deny which drove Tommy to make a desperate pilgrimage back to that place over, and over, and over again. And each and every time Tommy darkened his doorstep, Alfie greeted him with the same kind of warmth he always had. Though his face was badly scarred and he was now half blind, it was always the same fucking expression. One of delight, unabashed, loudly affectionate. And Tommy could never understand why.

Predictably, they hardly talked business during Tommy's visits. There wasn't much to talk about anymore. Tommy would settle himself in that same armchair and Alfie would sit across from him, hum and haw about rum barrels and warehouses as he always had. As if nothing had ever happened, nothing had changed. Humoring him. It was all just one long fucking con. A tired play at normalcy. A selfish attempt to ease his battered conscience. But it never fucking worked. The only thing Tommy had ever managed to accomplish was feed his growing demons. He would leave the same way he'd come. Full of darkness and unease. A growing guilt that was becoming much too difficult to contain. A renewed fear that he couldn't continue this. But he couldn't stop coming. And he found, if he thought about it for more than a passing moment, that he didn't want to stop.

Tommy finds himself in the car again one Saturday afternoon. By now he's traveled to Margate with such frequency he's sure he could make the drive with his eyes closed. And as he goes, he quietly ruminates on the imminent end that's surely coming. Because it has to be. Even now, Tommy can't help but wonder why Alfie enables this lie. What the purpose of all of this must be. For what reason would Alfie keep opening his home to the man who left him for dead on the very beach he now lives?

He thinks of this as he drives, as he always does, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He tries to rationalize that same question, over and over again, endlessly searching for an answer that simply isn't there. Tommy knows deep in his bones that he doesn't deserve this. Doesn't have any right at all to be in this car again, to be going where he's going. And yet he can't turn back. A purgatory of his own making. And he hates himself for it. For this. For everything. Why is he so fucking selfish?

By the time Tommy pulls up to Alfie's house it's dark. His fingers ache from their grip on the wheel. He sits there for several long minutes, staring out through the windshield. It's late, but the lights are on. The lights always seem to be on when Tommy arrives. Finally he gets out of the car and as he does he realizes abruptly that he's left his gun behind. He'll long for it later, after he's left, on the lonely drive home. He always does.

This time, Alfie's already standing in the doorway when Tommy finally finds the courage to climb the walkway. "Evening, Thomas," he calls out, voice boisterous and inviting. He's wearing a wrinkled shirt rolled up to his elbows and his suspenders are hanging off his trousers. It's a relief to see Alfie looking so warm and lively. Tommy regrets the feeling almost immediately, because he knows it's not a comfort he's deserving of. Alfie's expression is unchanged, open and honest as it always is. Tonight Tommy finds he can't bear to look at it.

"Hello, Alfie," he says quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice as he quickly sidles past. There's a fire burning in the hearth when he enters the sitting room. Tommy gravitates toward it, craving the warmth. He hears Alfie pull the door shut and putter around behind him, talking about something or other that he can't rightly focus on before disappearing into the kitchen. The atmosphere feels relaxed in a way that he wasn't prepared for. He feels shame for finding comfort in it. It's getting harder and harder to live this lie.

Tommy's stomach twists. He’s just turning towards the armchair when he sees it. The glass of whisky, freshly poured, sitting on the table next to the spot he usually occupies. He stares at it. Startled. There had never been any alcohol present on any of his previous visits. Alfie doesn't drink. He can't even begin to understand the implications of it. Can't understand why Alfie would possibly want to put forth any effort to make him feel welcome here. The weight in the pit of his stomach grows heavier when Alfie returns with a tray of what is most assuredly bread freshly baked by his own hand accompanied by butter and jam.

"You're looking quite bird-boned these days, Tom. You can pick at that whilst we conduct our business." Alfie sets down the tray and gestures for Tommy to sit, but he can't move. Rooted to the spot by this apparent tenderness he can't fathom. His hands are shaking. He shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be doing this. The guilt is a weight bowing his spine and he's going to drop it if he doesn't—

"Why?" Tommy hears himself say. Almost unsure it was his voice at all. He doesn't sound like himself. He sounds small and weak, like a child.

"Why?" Alfie parrots, looking at Tommy with a gaze far too heavy to hold. He laughs, but it doesn't sound right. It's hollow, humorless. "Why are we sat here in the middle of the night week after week drumming up whatever piss poor excuse for business we can manage, you mean? Honestly, Thomas, I was quite hoping you'd tell me that."

But he can't possibly. Doesn't have enough air in his lungs, enough strength to vocalize what he's supposed to say. What he needs to say. He's not ready for that, never will be, so he reaches for that blessed glass of whisky as his throat is closing up, can't even bear to fucking look at Alfie as he drinks just to fill his mouth with something other than words. He can't do this. Can't keep fucking doing this. Tommy grips the back of the chair so hard his knuckles turn white as the realization makes his blood cold.

It's already happened. His time has finally run out.

[muchamusedaboutnothing]

Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 12

Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 12

Characters: Dean x doctor!Reader, Sam Winchester

This story is Act 7 of a saga.

New to the story? Get caught up on the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

All your favorite Winchesters are alive, in spite of the curse that nearly took them from you. After coming so close to losing the only family you have left in this world, you’re taking matters into your own hands. There’s a witch to hunt.

Series Warnings:

Character injuries/sickness - Take note that no one is excluded from this.

Canon-typical violence and language.

Lots of whump.

Lots of caring for hurt characters.

Smut (18 Only. NSFW. You were warned.)

Angst.

Fluff.

Medical talk. Is that even a warning

Image Credit: bing image search, google image search, Supernatural Wiki

Wordcount: 2485

Chapter  12

You grabbed a flask full of holy water out of your duffle bag and put that in your jacket pocket.

You were armed with an angel blade in one hand and your .40 caliber which was loaded with devil's trap ammo. Your .380, loaded with witch killing bullets, was holstered on your hip. You also had several extra magazines containing both loads on your belt.

You were on red level alert, eyes scanning your surroundings. You half expected the shop door to open and more demons to appear as you drew nearer, but nothing so exciting happened as you reached the door.

The shop was still under construction, but your earlier prediction that it was a new shop seemed correct judging by the shelves lining the walls in the first two rooms. You moved quickly and quietly, stepping on paint drop cloths and dodging ladders and paint rollers.

To your relief, you found the entire first floor to be empty. That meant the witch had to be upstairs, but it just couldn't be that easy. She must have sensed you - sensed someone inside the shop and called her minions back to her because you'd only just cleared the first floor and approached the stairway when you heard a noise behind you.

You turned to find one demon stalking toward you, wearing a cocky smile. You pointed in your weapon, lining the sites up between his eyes. He wore a clergy neckband shirt beneath his black leather jacket. It was clear the demon hadn't known what or who to expect until he neared you, but you knew by his expression the second he figured out you were a hunter.

"I was hoping I'd get to have some fun," he said simply, raising his hand in an attempt to thwart you with his power. He was too slow. You pulled the trigger, firing a bullet with a devil's trap carved into the slug.

He couldn't have known what hit him before it was too late. The bullet incapacitated him, stunning him briefly, but it was just long enough for you to unsheath your angel blade and slide it between his ribs.

You weren't naive enough to think he was the only one who would show up. With the stairway behind you and the witch almost certainly waiting upstairs, you were torn about your next move. The witch would have heard the gunshot, but what she’d choose to do about it? Well … you could only guess.

You put your back against the wall, debating about making a break for it up the stairway as you realized the space directly in front of you probably led to the back door. No sooner than you'd completed that thought, you heard a door open, accompanied by more sounds to your left.

Reinforcements had come. More than one, from the sound of things.

You pointed the gun straight ahead with your right hand, wielding the demon blade in your left. You were vulnerable to the witch if she chose to attack at that very moment. You could only hope she didn't want to get her hands dirty and would rely on her cronies to do the work instead.

A demon from the back door came into view first, and unlike the first one, he hesitated when he saw you. You recognized his face from the picture Sam had sent. He’d been a slowly dying patient before being possessed. His hesitation was enough that you were able to fire off a shot, incapacitating him.

But another demon rushed you from the side faster than you could react. This was the other faux Priest demon you’d seen before. He gripped your left wrist, twisting the angel blade out of your hand with inhuman strength, turning it on you as he pulled your body forward.

You spun away from him trying to get far enough away from the blade, but the effort caused your opposite elbow to slam into the wall. Nerve pain zinged through your arm, momentarily rendering your hand useless. It was all you could do to keep a grip on your firearm. There was a hot sensation in your side you would later attribute to a stab wound, but adrenaline masked the pain just then.

In a desperate attempt not to get pinned against the wall, you head-butted the demon. Stars burst behind your eyes for a brief second at the impact, pain ringing through your head.

While it didn't cause the demon to reel backward in pain, it did put him off balance just enough you could angle your body away and plant your feet on the ground.

You pointed your gun in on the demon as he looked up and realized he was in your sights. You hoped the nerves in your arm had recovered enough to fire off a shot. Your vision was still a little blurry, but you could see well enough to aim for the center of his head.

You pulled the trigger, putting a Devil's trap slug just above his left eyebrow and trapping him where he stood. He froze in place, body going rigid, and you took a step forward to yank the angel blade away from him.

In a few succinct moves you shanked both demons. The orange glow emitting from the knife wounds flickered out as they died before the angel blade slid with a sickening slurp when you yanked it free. One after another, the bodies the demons had been wearing dropped in a heap to the floor, adding to the body count.

You took a deep breath to center yourself and appreciate the fact that you were still on your feet. That's when you realized blood seemed to be seeping through your shirt. You holstered your gun quickly, tucking the angel blade away. Your hands shook with adrenaline as you lifted your shirt to inspect the laceration in your right side.

The cut was longer than it was deep and had caught the furthest edge of your skin. You definitely hadn’t been as successful as you’d thought at spinning away from the angel blade when the demon had turned it on you. After a brief moment of assessing the damage, you were at least confident the blade hadn't hit any vital organs.

As if visually seeing the wound had set something off in your brain, the pain associated with it finally came rushing in, burning hot and throbbing. It was also bleeding considerably. The best you could do in the moment was tie your jacket around your waist to slow it down.

Your head ached from your little head-butting maneuver, and the ringing in your ears was competing with the sound of your blood pumping.

You gripped the .380 from your holster that was loaded with witch-killing bullets and stepped past the lifeless bodies of the poor people the demons had possessed. There was no time to mourn them now.

You were on a mission. The grief in your heart for the suffering your infant son had endured at the hands of the witch upstairs fueled you on.

The torment you still carried after having stopped Dean's and Sam's hearts in the infirmary while Jonah had fought for his life pulsed through you with every heartbeat. Every throbbing, searing pain in your side. Every breath moving in and out of your lungs as you ascended the stairway.

Your boots felt heavier than usual as you took the steps one at a time. Your gun felt colder in your hands.

And god … this was revenge, yes, but it was so much more than that. If this Borrower witch was allowed to escape, you'd be responsible for everyone she hurt from this day forward. Not just the people you loved, but anyone who had the misfortune of crossing her path.

You didn't need the details of her plans in this new place to understand the severity of them.

You were a healer. A hunter. You saved people.

You'd do whatever it took to make sure she never hurt anyone again. The revenge part just meant you’d actually enjoy seeing the light go out of her eyes.

Blocking out the pain, you moved quickly and quietly once you reached the second level. It was a more straightforward floor plan with a long hall and several rooms branching off of it. You’d have to clear them all as you went, and even if the witch had ignored the gunshots downstairs, she’d certainly be expecting a report of some kind from her cronies soon.

You had to act fast.

The laceration in your side was still bleeding and had soaked through your jacket sleeve. You could feel the blood seeping down your pant leg and quickly tightened the jacket around your middle, trying again to slow it, though it was going to take some real supplies and your med kit to make any real headway.

The first room was clear of threats, full of mostly open boxes with herbs and bottles of some sort. The second contained more of the same with a few filing cabinets and some framed artwork stacked up against the back wall. The next two rooms were empty and had a fresh coat of paint on the walls from the smell of things.

When you neared the end of the hall and only one door remained, you approached it with your gun pointed in. You sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you’d do what you’d come for and live to tell about it.

Then you quickly turned the knob and threw the door open.

A woman sat at a larger, but simple wooden desk across the room with her back to you. She slowly turned in her chair, and while she cast her eyes upward at your rather dramatic entrance, she didn’t have the sense to be as worried about your intrusion as she should have been.

You stepped forward into the room, barrel pointed in at the center of her chest.

You took a moment to study the face of the woman who had caused your family so much turmoil, so much heartache. Your heart was pounding, palms sweating, and the adrenaline pumping through your system was working against you as much as it was sustaining you in the fight.

“Well, well, well…. Look at you,” she said with a casual air as she watched you approach. You stopped a few feet short of her. “Little Miss Hunter, come to save the town from the big bad demons?”

You weren’t about to dignify that with a response. She sneered in hostile amusement. And seeing the smug look on her face just pissed you the hell off.

“I figured it would happen eventually,” she said with a hint of annoyance. “Some do-good hunter was bound to catch wind of the demon activity in the area and come looking. You see, it’s so hard to find good help these days….Tell me, did you leave me any loyal followers or have you picked them all off? I really hate to start all over-”

“I’m not some random hunter,” you cut in, interrupting her incessant blabbering. “I didn’t wander into a nest of demons only to be surprised that a witch is involved. I know exactly who you are. What you are.”

“It’s hardly a surprise that a hunter would recognize a witch,” she said slowly, but the amused smile she wore was fading.

“Not just a witch,” you corrected. “A stupid witch. One with a death wish. A Borrower.” And the surprise that flashed in her eyes just then was more than a little satisfying to witness. “But these witch-killing bullets I’m packing will do the trick just the same.”

“What makes you think those will work on me?” the witch said as she moved to stand. You made a slight adjustment to your aim and pulled the trigger, purposely burying a round just to the side of her clavicle in her left shoulder.

The witch cried out in pain and clutched her shoulder, falling back down into her chair at the impact. “That’s for the letter you left behind for my husband,” you said.

The implication of your words passed over her face in a quick wave, along with the realization that she'd been wrong to underestimate you.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then as she waved her hand with wordless magic just as you fired off another shot. With her left arm hanging limp at her side, she only managed to derail the bullet’s trajectory, sending it ricocheting. You immediately fired again, this time hitting her in the opposite forearm.

By then the first round bounced off the metal filing cabinet, and then the metal beam that ran the length of the ceiling before embedding itself in the flesh of your right thigh.

You gasped and stumbled as the bullet tore through flesh. Even so, you refused to take your eyes off her for even a second.

Regret filled the witch’s eyes as she managed to get to her feet again. Her right wrist was broken, deformed by the damage from the second shot, making it difficult for her to use her hand. As a result, her attempt to combat you with magic looked more like useless flailing.

She was pitiful. And evil. And as good as dead.

“And this one is for trying to take my entire family from me. Go. To. Hell….”

You fired again. The round went directly through her heart. She collapsed in a heap, half landing on her chair before her body slumped off grotesquely and slid to the floor with a dull thud.

You held your aim for thirty seconds longer just to play it safe. With pained effort, you managed to crouch down to feel for a pulse. You just had to be sure, but it was over.

She was dead.

Your relief was so great it dulled the pain in your side and your thigh as you rose to your feet again in silent celebration.

Your thigh was bleeding considerably more than the knife wound had. You reached a hand down to feel for the damage, confirming your fears. There wasn't an exit wound which meant the bullet was still lodged inside. The pain wasn’t as sharp as it would be soon, but the adrenaline rush sustaining you wouldn’t last long.

You needed to get yourself bandaged up. And fast.

You pulled your belt off and secured it nice and snug - but not too tight - around your thigh over the gunshot wound just before you heard the noise.

Someone else had entered the building, and he wasn't being quiet about his absolute shock as he observed the carnage down below. You could hear his exclamations of disgust and fury from where you stood.

And god, this new demon would come looking for his master next.

Act VII Masterlist.

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[vivalgi]

My impressions of the latest Choices Insiders:

Another LI with generic pose, generic chiseled features, generic suit and once again they're rich. I understand that one has to have a well paying job to afford a living space in American suburbia these days, especially as a single person but PB has been weirdly obsessed with the wealthy demographics. I guess while on the outside everyone has the "eat the rich" mentality, people still secretly dream of finding a hot sugar daddy.

The LIs also looks quite a bit older than usual, I'd say 35-40. Not sure how I'd feel about it. As an MLW player I'd prefer my partners younger than MC, unless it's a short fling with a hot MILF 😉. But we'll see, maybe the LI won't be so bad. Although, I'll probably fall for some cute side character, as it tends to be in my case.

It's not quite like I worded my question but it's something. The future of Multiple LI stories is a valid question since the app is called Choices and being able to choose between multiple LIs has been the only remaining meaningful choice until now. However, in recent years the single LI books have taken over like parasites and the app doesn't live up to its name anymore. These are not interactive stories anymore, just visual novels with linear plots. "An interactive narrative experience where your decisions shape the story" my ass.

The answer to this question makes it pretty clear that we won't get another new series with multiple LIs until at least spring of next year. This means Kindred and BOLAS2 will be the only 2 real Choices books this year in the sea of single LI novels and the latter is a sequel to a book from a different era. Besides, who knows, this murder mystery and ID2 might also be the only 2 non-single LI books in 2024.

And no, 2+ male LIs and 1 female LI doesn't count. MAH was still a single LI book to me.

Alpha - having seen the leaked cover, I'm pretty sure we won't be the titular character in this story. The male character with the omegaverse hinting tattoo and heavily pierced face looks too detailed to be the MC and the generic female doesn't give off alpha vibes. PB's gonna disappoint lots of players since most of the fandom wishes to be the alpha instead.

Ship of Dreams - I guess we all know what it's gonna be about. Also probably another forbidden romance like the movie. I wonder if they'll manage to fit together on the door this time 😛

Unbridled - PB altered the deal yet again by emphasizing this is a spin-off so they could make the Untameable sequel a VIP story before next year. A bit of a scum move if you ask me but fine, whatever.

Guarded - probably PB's attempt to make a better bodyguard story than Witness. I predict it will be heavily inspired by the 1992 movie The Bodyguard, where we'll be another damsel in distress in another forbidden romantic relationship with another knight in shining armor (the bodyguard).

Hot Shot - I checked the sports books on Chapters since PB seems to copy a lot of creative decisions from its main rival lately. I saw that Chapters even has a whole separate category for hockey books which the Hot Shots will also be about based on "🏒" hints. Also based on Chapters' books, I have a strong fear the MC won't be the titular character but some lowly waitress or bartender, at most a nurse, a journalist or even just LI's roommate's sibling. The LI will likely be a dangerous /reckless playboy/bad boy team captain.

[slow-button-off]

While we're in the summer break, I have some hypothetical questions to ask if you'd like to share your opinion. We've all talked a bit about charles and his contract that is running up soon and which teams could be options for him, but I don't think we've spoken much about what would happen to Ferrari if charles might not re-sign. Who do you think they'll get to replace him, let's say it's 2024 and charles leave and carlos stays and the car is good and able to battle at the front. If you were Ferrari, which driver would you try to get that could attempt a championship campaign

Do you live in the southern hemisphere? Because if so then I'm jealous.. it's just cold here and we don't even really have snow..

I am exceptionally shite at these sort of predictions.

Charles current contract ends at the end of 24 so we'd be looking for a driver in 25. And honestly by then the F1 landscape could look completely different.

One driver that I'm looking forward to seeing is Bearman who could theoretically make it to F1 by 24 and if he does a Charles then Ferrari by 25. I wouldn't bank on that but he is the most promising Ferrari Junior.

I would go for one of the young guys. Lando is an option even though I don't really see him and Ferrari working out.

My heart would choose Alex because I'd love for him to get another shot at a big team.

And piastri we have no clue about ATM.

But honestly I don't really see any clear option.

[thatoneguy031]

[Of course, after getting what they wanted from the clothing shop, Guy had asked Mx. Suicune if they could have another sparring match, primarily for training. Of course, Cherry was also in the area to make sure she could intervene if anything went wrong for either of them.

Both Guy and Suicune decided to battle on Route 13, as this area covered many kinds of terrain they could traverse as they fought; The water of Unova's oceans, the land that led to both Undella Town and Lacunosa Town, and the area had a few small cliffs -- While it was somewhat easy to fall off these ledges, it would be nearly impossible to get seriously hurt if either of them tripped.]

...<Samrot has to stay on to legs for fite.>

Eh? But you know...

...Fine. [It took a long time, and he had to use one of his seamitars as a crutch as he did so, but he was able to stand on his hind legs. Guy began practicing a small shuffle. It wasn't much, but as long as he was able to move like this at all, he had a fair shot.]

C'mon, like last night, remember?... It's fine.

...I'm ready.

[It was a long while before Suicune did anything. The air got noticeably tense as Guy was trying to anticipate their first attack.

Suddenly, Suicune leaped forward and attacked Guy with... Aurora Beam?]

[Shocked from both the unusual move choice and how quickly they were able to close the gap, Guy had no choice but to take the attack at point-blank range, knocking him onto his back.]

[By the time Guy's vision returned, Suicune had managed to leap into the air directly over him, also without a sound, preparing a Crunch attack. Guy had no idea how they were able to move so quickly.]

[As he panicked looking for a way out of this, he wound up his left arm. It glowed a deep orange, and Guy attacked Mx. Suicune with Revenge. Cherry would've sworn she heard a cracking sound as Guy struck them with the nastiest backpaw she's ever seen.

Guy was then met with a stinging sensation, as the drawbacks of not knowing how to perform this move properly had put an immense strain on his arm.

With some time to take a breather, he scrambled onto his feet again, picking up his left seamitar and using it to keep his balance.

Looking back at Mx. Suicune, Guy originally thought he snapped their neck. They were still looking away from them, and looked as though they were frozen in place.]

[In a way similar to that of a horror movie, they slowly looked back at him. It was as though their eyes were piercing into Guy's soul.

They opened their mouth, and they prepared another Ice Beam, much stronger than before.]

[While Guy was glad he didn't accidentally kill Mx. Suicune, he knew that he only had two seconds to get out of the way of their attack before he became a museum exhibit.

He dove to the ground, and he heard (and felt) rattling as the attack made direct contact with his helmet.]

That... was TOO close. How were they able to predict I'd do that?... And that attack, too. If it weren't for my helm, I'd be finished... Were they just messing with me before? And it was so fast...

[Mx. Suicune waited until Guy got his bearings to go on the offensive again. Their tails glowed a bright blue, as he used them as whips as they continued to attack him once the Samurott was able to stand again, ending the assault with an attempt of a sharp jab to his stomach.]

[Guy used Razor Shell with the seamitar in his free paw to defend against the slashes and swipes, continuing to back up away from Suicune. He had even managed to get a few strikes to their body in the process.

Guy used this opportunity to try out something he was working on for a while, since last night. He stopped using Razor Shell, and instead opted for Fury Cutter. Like a switch knife, he spun it within the palm of his paw, striking Suicune with a surprising quickness. He ended the onslaught by grabbing the hilt with both paws, and hitting them with a downward slash for a total of five hits!

...Unfortunately, the uneven balance Guy exerted on his body resulted in him falling onto all fours again.]

[Suicune decided to use this chance to make one final push. They used their tails to sweep Guy's feet from under him, catching him off-guard, then used them to knock him into the air.]

GWAH-

[They swatted at him three more times, before catching him by his forearm with one of his tails. They threw him into the air again, blasting him with a particularly strong Aurora Beam, sending him careening him into a tree.]

Grrahhh!

[The battle had brought a lot out of him, especially considering he didn't get much sleep the previous night. The Samurott barely had enough energy to lift his head to see Mx. Suicune glaring back at him.]

...

...

[cazimagines]

Born to be wild - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Joining F1 as one of the first female drivers you knew was going to be a challenge but you weren’t prepared to deal with one particular asshole on the tracks. With the urge to win so strong within each racer, will romance pave the way? Or will it destroy everything?

Word count: 2.3k

Author’s note: I'm going to be focusing on this series for a bit and not writing any one-shots for a little while so expect these updates to come out sooner, plus I'd also like to thank my awesome beta reader for helping edit this 😊

Warnings: Swearing

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Born to be wild masterlist

Previous chapter

The sunset and rose again in what felt like only a few hours for you. The quick passing of time could be attributed to the adrenalin of qualifying, in which you had managed to drive your way to 5th place. Shock rippled through everyone due to this. Not only it is your first F1 qualifying but due to you being a female, you were already exceeding their expectations. It meant everyone was buzzing with curiosity and excitement to see what you might bring to the actual race today.

You were as excited as you were yesterday arriving at the track, but before you could explore the now swarmed with people area, your boss was already waiting for you and with a quick jolt of his head, informed you to get into the garage for debriefing. Arriving you were told, though you were placed 5th the team would still be focusing on Patrick as a priority due to him being the more experienced driver between the two. You’re told about the predicted weather conditions for today, what tires they recommended you to put on the car and mostly which other drivers to watch out for.

After meeting all of the drivers for the proper first time yesterday, already you had quite a good idea of which ones you should watch out for, and as you left the garage to get a quick breath of fresh air, your eyes landed on the one man who made your lips curl down into a sneer. Certainly, a man to watch out for.

Niki Lauda’s team were on the opposite side and he was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his own frown plastered onto his face. His eyes were fixated on how his team was adding adjustments to his car, and every few seconds he was barking more orders at them for what they should be checking. Displeasure curled up within your chest as you watched how he treated his team with disrespect. He was acting as if he knew more than them when they were doing their job. For a second, as if sensing your eyes upon him, his face snapped over to look at you. Those dark, cocoa eyes felt like he was staring into your soul and due to the uncomfortable feeling that settled within you, making you blush, you quickly looked away.

Sure the man might look charming, even with his overbite. His curled hair complimented his face and the overbite made his cheekbones stick out more in a way that would make you want to run your fingers along them. But for all the niceties of his face, his jackass personality dashed any ideas you might have had about him otherwise. To you, he seemed like an entitled brat and the more time you got to spend away from him, the better.

Unsurprisingly, James Hunt came first in qualifying however a few other drivers came second and third leaving Niki in fourth, right in front of you. This meant in the first few minutes of the race, when everyone was tightly packed together trying to overtake one and other, you would be right beside him. From your first impression of him, you had no doubt if given the chance he wouldn’t hesitate to push you off the track to ensure his space, and the thought of that made you more determined to try and overtake him in this race.

Leaving the garage, you headed into the press tent expecting to be greeted by a few journalists wanting to interview you, but instead, as soon as you took your first step inside you were swarmed with cameras pointing at you. The questions each of them asked you however all followed a similar pattern, they wanted to know everything about what it was like being the first female driver, how you felt racing against all these men, but they also wanted to know how you achieved 5th place in your first time racing for F1 as if you hadn’t been racing for the past few years in F3.

Thankfully Patrick who was finishing up his interview with two journalists spotted your face hidden among the swarm of reporters. He chuckled to himself at your plight before finally deciding to push his way through the crowd to grasp your arm.

“Y/n has answered enough questions, for now, any more you can ask after the race,” he tells them and while they grumbled they slowly moved away to interview a few others. Still holding your arm Patrick pulled you back to your garage into a more private quarter where you wouldn’t be harassed.

“The press can be dicks at times, you’ll learn to get away from them in time,” he mutters to you as he guides you through the busy garage.

“I’m fearful they’ll always be obsessed with me for being the first F1 driver.”

Patrick finally stops pulling you along and tilts his head back and forth in contemplation, “Perhaps for the first year or so, but they’ll move on to something else eventually.”

It was only a few minutes later when you and Patrick were informed it was time to head onto the track to get into your cars. The walk there was nerve-wracking, seeing all these other drivers approaching their cars but you, preparing for the race because it was so normal to them now but you reminded yourself that you were the same as them. You were just as good as them and you had every right to be there, like them and in time you would be as used to it as well.

Your team was there to pass you your helmet, help you into the car and to wish you good luck. Finally sitting down within it, placing your hand upon the steering wheel you felt a sudden surge of power wash over you. This was it. This was your time to prove to everyone who ever doubted you, that they were wrong. At that moment, you had never felt more at home.

“Good luck out on the road today.” a British voice chimes in, and looking to your side you see James Hunt walking past you to his car, giving you a smile and a wave. You nodded your head back to him and gave a slight motion of your hand to tell him thanks.

Niki stormed past you as well, though unlike James made no acknowledgement of your existence. Rather he was paying meticulous attention to what James was doing, making sure his crew fitted his car with the exact same wheels James chose to have. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

The first thing everyone had to do was warm up their tires which involved you driving around the track once in order so that when the actual race started, the tires wouldn’t wear down too quickly. After this, however, it was the waiting that almost killed you. Waiting for that flag to wave to tell you to go.

The beginning of the race was always the most important part. Everyone was cooped together and therefore could easily overtake each other. If you made one mistake that could be it for you, or it could be the making of you. Most crashes in which people died always happened at the start of the race. You had watched so many times on TV how a car hit another and went spiralling into the crash barrier, catching alight. It’s the reason why your parents were so determined for you not to drive, for you might not come back to them alive. But it was a risk you were willing to take to live your dream.

Your hands clutched the steering wheel in anticipation, fingers drumming on the underside of it, a sweat bead rolled down the side of your head as you watched the flag bearer with such strong precision. He held up the flag, and with the ring of a whistle, he started to wave it.

Instantly your foot was on the accelerator, rushing forward in time with everyone else. You maintained your position, preventing anyone from being able to overtake you to take 5th place but now that meant you had to focus on trying to get ahead of the car before you. Niki was only a few inches ahead of you but he kept swerving, preventing you from being able to find a path to get past him. However, you were coming up to your first curve in the track and if Niki went on the underside you might be able to accelerate enough on the outer side of the track to attempt to get past him. It was risky but it was a shot you were willing to take.

As you predicted Niki went to go on the underside, trying to save time to catch up to his next opponent, so you sped up going on the outer ring. It meant you had to go wider but as you accelerated further you were able to come up side to side by Niki.

It was a tight squeeze, both of you heading around the corner at the same time. You could see the glare he shot at you as you came up beside him, a fire within the deepest pits of his eyes and yet as you drew nearer for one horrifying second shared between the both of you in which your eyes flashed with panic, it looked as if your front wheel might bump into him.

Niki, in realising this, quickly slammed on his accelerator as you pulled back using your breaks. He shot forward, back onto the straight road now that you were both past the corner but it left you in his dust, cursing at yourself.

The rest of the race went smoothly, for you at least. You were able to push yourself up to fourth place but Niki has long since overtaken that person as well and was now racing behind James in their little competition to try and get first. Still, the fact that you got fourth place in your first race was a celebration unto itself and so when you crossed the finish line and pulled into your team’s pit all the crew were out there cheering you on.

As soon as you jumped out of the car they were running over to hug you, slap you on the back and congratulate you on getting fourth and you could help but join into the excitement, jumping up and down and cheering along with them. Even when Patrick pulled up he congratulated you, giving you a pat on the back and flashing one of his signature kind smiles, making you feel elated.

There was only one thing that could dampen your mood, one person and of course he would appear. You heard the annoying, callous Austrian voice call out to you and instantly you had to suppress a groan as you turned around to face the man.

“You nearly hit me earlier!”

Niki was charging towards you, his body tensed as he pulled his helmet off, handing it to one of his crew and scowled towards you. His hair was slick and wet with sweat and he still wore his tracksuit showing as soon as he got out of his car he had chosen to find you out, obviously seeking an argument for earlier.

“But I didn’t!”

It almost seemed as if he wouldn’t stop walking towards you for a second. He came to stand so close in front of your face you could smell the sweat reeking off him, “It’s stupid manoeuvres like that kill people!”

“We were fine! I made sure we had lots of space.”

“Two inches!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise you were measuring it with a bloody ruler!”

Niki crosses his arms, his lips curled as his nose flared and you’d swear even his breathing suddenly sounded louder. “If I hadn’t taken the quick decision to speed up, potentially damaging my engine we both could have been dead.”

You scoff, amazed he thought he was the one who prevented it, “Of course you would take the credit. If I hadn’t chosen to slow down, letting you pull out again and costing me a place we might have crashed.”

It was Niki’s turn to scoff now as he looked away and then his dark eyes turned to glare at you again. His teeth bared as he prepared to refute you but before he got a chance James had noticed the commotion between the two of you and jogged over.

“Congratulations y/n on getting 4th place! That’s great for your first race,” he then turned on his foot to smile sarcastically at Niki, “Congratulations Niki on almost getting first place.”

“Perhaps if she hadn’t almost run me off course I might have beaten you,” Niki argues, his harsh glare instantly snapping back to you.

“Don’t use her as an excuse for your own idiotic driving. If she had run you off course she would have done the rest of us a world of favour.”

Niki rested his hands upon his hips again and ran his tongue over his lips before spitting out at James, “Fuck you.”

He starts to storm away as James shouted back to him, “No thanks!”

A chuckle came from James’ throat as he turned around to look back at you. “I need to head off to the podium in a few minutes to accept my trophy, but I wanted to come by and invite you to my winning party. Everyone will be there, well apart from Niki of course.”

“No Niki? Sounds like my kind of party then,” you reply, shaking his hand in congrats to him. As soon as he had arrived he left and you turned to look at Niki’s fading figure one last time before heading back to your garage. The less your saw of that asshole the better.

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[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk - one.

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, eventual fluff?

↳ word count: 4.7K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of attempted murder.

one | two

a/n: this was supposed to be a one shot, but i decided to make it a two shot because inspiration struck at the twelfth hour. This is based on stigma tae, and has massive massive references to hyyh tae as well!! I'm warning you all. Written for the @bangtanwritingbingo prompt: chalk drawings. Beta read by @vaekth and @kookiestarlight who are possibly the most supportive and appreciative people I could have asked for, thank you so much!!

You'd thought that being an officer would mean solving cases for people who genuinely needed help. Not hunting around for a missing pumpkin. 

"It's round, large, and I think it was slightly squishy, Y/N," the kid who had run up to you exclaimed again, while making gestures for round, large and squishy. 

If the kid weren't this adorable, you'd squish him for being too loud at 8 in the morning. 

You unlocked the door to your office, taking in the sight of the homey little cubicle that you maintained alone. Being the sole officer in a neighbourhood should be hard work, but in a neighbourhood where practically everybody is asleep? Not as much. 

You sighed as you pulled the kid in - who by now had told you that his name was Sungwoo, and he was eight years old. His mother told him that if he ever lost anything precious he should head to the police, so here he was. 

"Can you find my pumpkin?" He peered up at you as you tried to get the coffee machine started- well, as well as you can with a kid in the way. "It's round, large and squishy." 

"Round, large, squishy. Got it." You smiled wearily at him, seeing how his eyes lit up at the sight of your notebook- the one he obviously thought you wrote your cases in. You took your espresso in a mug, running over to him before he damaged it. He ran over to it, picking it up, dropping it because of its weight and picking it up again. 

"Can you write a message for Peter here?" He asked you, eyes wide and round as he stared at the brown leather bound book. 

"Peter? I thought we were talking about your pumpkin?" 

He nodded vigorously- strong enough to make you worry if his head would fall over. Flopping his hair to the side messily, he scampered to you as you settled in your chair, opening the last page of your book - where you had kept your post-its. "Peter is pumpkin! It's made of something- mom told me-" he put a hand to his head, trying to force his small head to think of big words, "Is it pushy?" 

"Do you mean it is a plushie, Sungwoo?" You said, sighing and writing it down on a post-it note and sticking it on your desk. 

"Yeah!" His eyes sparkled, and he bent his head down to the paper you gave him to scribble a hasty note for Peter. Once satisfied, he raised his head, giving the chit two pats before turning to you. "It's missing, Y/N. Can you find it?"

"Of course I can," you reassured him the best you could while half-asleep. The boy suddenly pulled you into a hug, happy tears spilling out of his eyes as he murmured thank you's over and over. 

You held him for a few more seconds, understanding the worry that the kid would have over his plushie. You didn't understand why he had to bring it to you, though. 

You felt a soft yet insistent buzz in your pant pockets all of a sudden, realizing it was your phone. You pulled yourself away from the crying child, and caressed his head while picking up the call. 

"Good morning, Officer L/N." The coarse voice of your chief barked at you. 

You sighed, not wanting to deal with any of his tantrums right after you dealt with the case of Peter the Pumpkin. "Good morning, Chief." 

"I'm arriving at your office in about ten minutes. We have to discuss something important." 

You sighed again, hand grabbing Sungwoo's as you led him outside the office. Time to clean up. "Of course, Sir."

"Why is this place so messy?" was the first thing you had to hear in the form of a greeting. When your chief said ten minutes, he clearly meant half an hour.

You'd spent some time clearing up cookie crumbs from your table, dusting any evidence of your multiple ramen packets, arranging the tables in proper order, lining the chairs up, and stuffing all the stuff you couldn't clear into a closet. It seemed clean enough to you.

"I shall clean it, Sir." You bowed your head once, carefully maintaining your expression so that the chief doesn't think of you as any more insolent than he already does. 

"It doesn't reflect well upon the force to have a messy office, Y/N. I'm sure you were taught that," he said, pressing his finger to a certain spot on a table, and raising it up to show you. "Dust in our offices speaks of nonchalance. That is the last thing we'd want anyone to think of us is that we're nonchalant."

"I apologise, sir. I shall rectify it." 

"I expect you to. Anyways," he said, dusting his hands and moving to another corner of the office, "that is not what I came here for." He settled into the chair-  your chair, with the note for Peter the Pumpkin intact.

You prayed for him to ignore it. 

"There's been growing signs of vandalism in the neighbourhood you're patrolling, Y/N," The chief said to you in a gruff tone, looking like an angry cat with his whiskers trembling. He wore a scowl to match the whole look. Luckily, his pondering eyes missed out on the missing pumpkin report. "I want you to catch that person. Why isn't it done yet?"

"They were untraceable, Sir. All we could capture was a navy blue hoodie and jeans. Nothing else. There's only graffiti and chalk all over the places he's been at, Sir. I tried looking for clues-" 

"Keep looking, then."

"I'm trying, sir. I have asked the owners of all the shops on the street to hand over any CCTV footage they have of the person so that I can analyze it and try to nab him. It is a futile task till now, though." 

The chief rubbed his hand hard on his thigh, the sound of his palm scratching against the coarse trouser fabric reaching you. "They are being a menace, Y/N. A nuisance to those who want peace in this neighbourhood. You are supposed to bring that peace for them, not complain about not being able to get that person. That is your job." He looked you directly in the eye, anger clearly visible. "Or would you wish to leave?"

You twitched in anger, forcing yourself to remain calm. The chief had a penchant for transferring those who were unsuccessful in their cases to different stations- the more transfers, the more incompetent you seemed. You had already begun at a relatively low level, and you couldn't afford going lower. You nodded stiffly. 

"Any more complaints, and I'd be forced to transfer you somewhere else and hand this case over to someone competent. And you know it wouldn't be safe for your career, Y/N." He rose up from the chair, heading towards the door. "I want it resolved. Soon." 

You bowed your head, in a sense of respect for your senior you'd actually never felt. It was annoying, honestly, and your hatred for this man just grew more and more. You had requested since the day of your graduation from the academy to be put in the forensics department - something that actually was your specialty. But no, here you were, patrolling a neighbourhood where the only problem was a kid scribbling on walls and leaving an alphabet behind. 

V.

Taehyung kicked a pebble aside, letting it roll aimlessly along the half-paved, half-broken road. "I'm out of green paint, again." 

He glanced at the aluminium shutters he had decided to vandalize- no, beautify- today, deciding that the subtle decor of the florist's shop and the grim outside of the tattoo shop - both needed redecorations. He didn't care who was the owner. He didn't care how many reports they filed about the eerie similarities of the vandal to Mrs. Kim's son - they never cared about him before, so they'd never care about him now. That, he was sure of. 

His red paint had been used to make the outer petals of a rose that he had dedicatedly been drawing the previous day, until the owner had yelled from his house above for him to stop. That was early, though. 11 AM was a predictable time for a vandal to walk through the streets, spraying graffiti and dusting chalk over every nook and corner until he was satisfied by the art he had created. 

His wristwatch ticked three as he picked up his blue paint can. Just a few hours later, but effective enough for the owner to have fallen asleep - Taehyung could definitely justify that by the snores that echoed behind the shutters. 

"Reporting. Reporting. Vandal. Street 13. I repeat. Vandal. Street 13." 

The cuckoo clock that your mom had gifted you to decorate the less than neat office struck three just when the report came through. Just when you were about to settle for the night.

You pushed your papers aside, leaving the missing car complaint on your table. Holding your baton, slipping your ID into the pocket of your jeans and dusting crumbs off your chiffon blouse, you picked up the radio. 

"Street 13. Officer Y/N reporting." 

The gruff voice of your chief growled back at you. "The vandal has been found on camera, finally. The florist's CCTV; he sent a complaint. In fact, he's been wandering the streets for half an hour now, Y/N. Where have you been?" 

You were about to form a legible enough response, say that the paperwork he had set for you was what consumed your time, but he beat you to it. Sighing into the phone, he said, "Nevermind that. Get to his location immediately, and capture him." His voice stumbled for a second. "Take the taser, just in case." 

"Yes sir," you responded meekly, and disconnected the radio. 

You looked around for your keys, going past a board full of cases that were never relevant enough to be solved - especially the one of the missing pumpkin. The types of cases you received here made you shudder, this wasn't why you had spent so much time training at the university. You tucked your radio into your jacket as you pushed it on your shoulders, grabbing onto a half-eaten sandwich to satisfy your hunger along the way.

"I have to get that person before he robs me of a chance at the forensics department forever," you thought while speeding towards the location told to you - while maintaining the speed limit, of course. No space for nonchalance. 

You'd wanted to finish all your paperwork today and get back to an analysis you were working on - preferably get a nap too. Capturing a neighbourhood graffiti artist- this isn't what you had wanted to do.

This wasn't what Taehyung had wanted to do. 

The paint dried off slowly on the metal surface, a small drop of ink trickling down where Taehyung had stopped. The design wasn't matching what he had thought at all, he thought as he stared at it. Time to switch it up. 

He picked up the painting from right where he had stopped it - merging blue into the red petals as he was on his way to the centre of the flower. Painstakingly, he traced lines that would capture the delicate curves of the outlines, serving to further merge into the picture. 

His vandalism wasn't ugly drawings, nudity, or someone just spraying 'SUCKAZ!' all over a wall. That is for amateurs. His was nuanced art. Art that he couldn't do in the day. The ones he could never showcase in the galleries. The ones he buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, burning a hole into the boxes he stuffed them into. This was his freedom. 

Taehyung picked up the black can. Fixing the nozzle in the proper direction, he shook the bottle- once, twice. The paint came out in spurts at first, before settling into a steady spray. Black always enhances everything, doesn't it? Enhancement that never seemed beautiful - it was just there to make it stand out. Be noticed. Be shamed. Be suspected. Look deadly, or even look dead. Even the most innocent faces look devious with black. What's to say his flower would still look alive? 

The black slowly spiralled across the expanse of the shutter, coiling over and over in what Taehyung thought could be the leaves. The thorns that held the flower back from reaching the epitome of beauty- at least, outwardly beauty. He detested how overhyped a rose was- just as destructible as all other flowers. Where's the beauty in something temporary? 

The green paint can had been used up last time when he had sprayed ivy all over the fashion boutique's doors- all of which had been washed away. A shame, Taehyung thought, and picked up his airbrush. Filling a little green into the small holder, he tested it a few times on the footpath - he'd scrub chalk all over it later on, he still needed to add more to beautify the shops. He carefully painted leaves all over the black he had sprayed, letting them flatten out against the metal at the back and form a protective layer around the rose. Unnecessary by all means. 

He then switched to a darker green, picking up the airbrush once again to add some subtlety in the leaves. He watched the spray slowly settle right where he wanted it - paint, unlike his life, was something he had full control of. It was liberating. 

Standing back and twirling the can over and over in his hand, Taehyung was somewhat satisfied with what he made. A rose. Simple, overrated. Just like flowers. The leaves stood out more to him, along with the thorns; their prickly points being the focus of the picture. Perfect. 

He picked up his personal favorite - a small can of black paint who's nozzle had been crafted by him. Stooping down to the corner of the shutter, he slowly sprayed across it. Black settling on silver gray, one single alphabet. V. 

That's it. He was done. Just an hour's work. 

He turned to the tattoo artist's shop, the shutter a colourful mess littered with messy black stains and drawings the owner probably thought was hip. Taehyung cringed. How was it possible for an artist to be that bad at decorating their own shop? He walked a few steps back, admiring the size of it and thinking of what he could fill there. Something that would really annoy a tattoo artist- he deserved it after having ruined the shutter like that. Picking up a blade, Taehyung set to scrape away the skulls- which, he found, were stickers. Gross. Peeling them off, he set to chip away at the paint- the soft thunk, thunk of the blade slapping against the metal echoed around him. Hopefully, not too loud. 

The metal loudly protested as Taehyung pressed his blade against what seemed to be an outline of a body, done with black, and some random inscriptions that he could notice were wearing away. This had to be really old. 

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The blade kept pushing at the layers of colour, forcing them off the metal. He could see glints of silver shining underneath it, dim under the streetlight.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. He kept pushing at the paint, tongue poking out as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had to do it now. There was no other time for him to do this. Now. Now. Now. 

The silver suddenly glinted more brightly- a shade impossible under the dull, flickering yellow of the streetlights. White lights created a halo of sorts around him, and Taehyung knew his time was up. He smiled. At least one place got the beauty they deserved. 

"Hands up!" A voice yelled behind him, and he could hear a click that definitely sounded like a taser gun. 

Looking up, he cursed loudly at everyone and anyone. He could have finished it tonight. His work would have been done, and he would have been on his way. He turned around, annoyance sparking in his eyes with sarcastic acceptance lining his lips in the way they curled. "You found me," he murmured, before letting himself get slammed against the very shutters he was painting.

Fate played wonderful games, and for now, you were its newest loser. 

"Name." You spoke, your voice monotone yet clear. 

"You know me, Y/N. Don't pretend you don't." Taehyung crooned, smirking while he rotated the glass that rested atop the table. 

Your annoyance only grew. When you were told that there was a vandal in the streets, you didn't expect it to be a familiar face. 

Kim Taehyung was known to you. Someone who had lived right next door. Someone who had been known as a lovable, obedient boy by the neighbours- you still remembered how your mother would gush about him. Someone you knew, and once, cared for. 

Someone who was later only known as the kid who flung a bottle on his stepfather's face and was sentenced for five years - which, in fact, was a misjudgement. He was innocent, and the video of him attacking the man was manipulated. Fake. Edited. Whatever you chose wouldn't be enough to change anything in the past. 

Taehyung had come out of jail a changed man, weeping openly in the streets when he heard of his family's fate- what he had heard, though, was something you were unaware of. Two years had since passed, and you no longer heard your mother talking about the Kim's boy. He had simply vanished, for you. No traces anywhere. 

But here he was. Kim Taehyung. Alive, breathing. Smirking. And spinning a glass over and over. 

"Give that to me." You said, snatching the glass away from him and keeping it aside. Settling into your chair, you pulled your laptop closer once again, mustering the most serious look you can. "I'm not playing around, Taehyung. Talk properly. Behave. You're already in a rough spot." 

Taehyung laughed; a mirthless, almost painful laughter. "I can't see how anything can be bad here, officer. With all due respect, of course." He straightened up, still keeping that smirk on his face.

You exhaled your breath slowly, holding back all the words you wanted to hurl at him. "Name?"

"Kim Taehyung."

You typed it in, feeling the way each letter pad was pushed down before you moved over it- momentary, but fulfilling. "Age."

"As of today, 25." 

"Job."

"Nothing. Add the official vandal of Street 13 if you want." 

You raised an eyebrow, fingers abruptly coming to a stop. "Behave." 

"No job, officer." Taehyung said, settling further ahead in his seat and pausing, before speaking again. "Why do you need this though? I already have a criminal record, don't I?" 

You turned your face to him, the sudden change in light exposure hurting your eyes. The hurt they felt couldn't possibly fathom the depths of pain you saw churning in Taehyung's eyes, like pits of fire. They were seemingly blank,  but you had known him. Known him long enough to know that this wasn't who he used to be. This wasn't him. 

"Once you were proven innocent, your record was wiped clean. The manipulators were given the charges that you had." You looked at him while saying this, trying to notice any emotions that would make way to his face. None. No twitching lips, no annoyance in his eyebrows. Just his eyes that seethed anger. "Family?" 

"None." 

You raised an eyebrow. "None?"

Taehyung groaned, getting up from the chair and turning around, hands on his waist. "Don't make me repeat all that shit again. You know it, Y/N." 

"Sit back down, Taehyung." You said, irritated by his tantrums. It was four in the morning, for God's sake. You didn't have the energy to deal with him. "I need details if you want to get out of this without any charges." 

"Dead. Most of them. Those who aren't, disowned me as soon as I got into jail. Something about not wanting to be related to a criminal." He said lowly, a gruff tone to his voice as he spoke the last words. 

You hummed lowly, not knowing what to say. How do you possibly respond to something like this? You weren't trained for interrogation at university. You specialized in forensics. This wasn't supposed to be your job. 

"I'm sorry that happened, Taehyung." You managed after a few moments of silence. 

"Don't be." He shrugged, then looked up. "You don't mean it." 

"I still need a reason as to why you are destroying the places around here with your graffiti and chalk drawings, Taehyung." You ignored him and continued, rising from your chair to let your sore limbs relax. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave till you give me a reason." 

Taehyung stayed mum, much to your annoyance. 

You slammed your hand on the table, a loud slap that stung your hand, but also Taehyung's ears, it seemed. "Reasons. Now."

"I just wanted to." 

"Wanted to? So you were voluntarily damaging someone else's property?" 

He raised his head to look at you; once, twice. Then with a resigned sigh, he responded. "Yeah. But I was beautifying it." 

"A beautification they never asked for?" You said, as Taehyung groaned behind you. 

"No one gives a damn, Y/N-" 

"The police do." You say, preparing to send a message to your chief over the radio. "Got him." 

"The police didn't care when I was innocent in that case, Y/N. Stop pretending like they'll care for me when I'm actually guilty of something." 

"That case was mishandled."

"Yeah, Y/N. It was mishandled. But only for you." You turned to him, shocked at the venom that suddenly laced his voice. 

In the few seconds that you had turned away from him, his eyes had turned bloodshot. Red rimmed the remaining white of his eyes. "You wouldn't know what it is to be locked up for harming people you loved, Y/N. You wouldn't understand that pain," he murmured, loud enough for you to hear him in the echoes of the office. 

You wanted to scream at him. Tell him how he had hurt you. Remind him of all the things you had forced yourself to forget over seven years. The way your heart still hurt for him. 

"You're right. I won't understand. So sit here, and explain yourself." You pulled your chair back, seating yourself in it and gazing up at him expectantly. 

He was just staring at you- you couldn't say whether his gaze held expectations or disdain. Then, shaking his head, "You're still just as stubborn, aren't you," he said, softly smiling as he slipped into his chair. "Adamant, and so, so confusing."

"You don't know me anymore, Taehyung. Don't pretend. Anyways," you said, turning to your laptop again. "I need-"

"No." He stood up once again- why was he standing? "Answer me, now." 

He rested his arms on the table, chest leaning forward to balance himself- and now, you could see the changes he had brought in himself. In place of lean muscle there were defined biceps you could see being flexed. In place of short hair was curly locks that fell until his crown, now hanging over. In place of a cheeky grin that sent your blood rushing to your cheeks was a pair of lips, set tight in one line that sent chills down your spine. There was warmth to him, yes, but it was different. This wasn't the Taehyung you knew. 

"You knew that I was back." Your eyes moved back to look into his. And you noticed more changes. Instead of a carefree twinkle, there was dark, brooding black filling his pupils. "You knew. I'd seen you that night." 

The night when you had seen him falling to his knees, soaking himself in the rain as he gave his tears as a tribute to the gushing skies. The night he returned. The night you thought he didn't know you. 

"I'd seen you after that as well. That day at the convenience store, I'd seen you buying candies. You still buy the same kind, don't you? Lemon flavoured." 

The night you gave up on your dreams to become an analyst in the forensic lab for the police. The night where you stared up to question everything you did as your feet soaked in the snow. Two years ago. The night he thought he knew you. 

"You're hurting me by not remembering us, Y/N." 

"We were nothing to begin with." You cleared your throat, settling further back into your chair. "You asked me on a date, and stood me up. We're nothing. Absolutely nothing." 

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak again, but leaned back, standing tall, straight. You almost missed his warmth - no. This wasn't the warmth of a person you had cared for. 

"It's so cold outside, Y/N, why haven't you turned on the heater?" Your chief's voice filled the room after a few minutes of absolute silence. Taehyung had taken to leaning on the wall, now, maintaining an anxious distance. "Did you get the man?"

You simply pointed towards Taehyung, watching the chief's face flash with recognition, brows hastily furrowing as a frown formed on his face.

"Kim Taehyung?" Your chief asked, coming up to the two of you. "Is it really you? Are you the vandal?"

Taehyung remained silent, head hung. 

The chief inhaled, then exhaled; loud enough for you to hear him - "It is you, isn't it. What happened after the attempted murder case?" 

"Proven false, Sir." You informed your superior. For some odd reason, you felt like you had to come to Taehyung's defense. 

"I am aware of that, Y/N." The chief said, looking Taehyung up and down. As reported, he was in the navy blue sweatshirt and ripped jeans- and you could see in the clear light of your office that he had ripped the holes into them himself. Something he did before to look fashionable, he used to say. 

"I don't really want to put any charges on you, Taehyung. Why did you do it?"

Taehyung spoke, voice gravelly. "It was liberating, Sir." 

"You broke the law, though." 

"The law broke me, Sir." 

The chief took another deep breath and settled onto the chair where Taehyung was sitting just a few moments ago. His wrinkled skin seemed to age even more. Taehyung was close with the chief as a student, that you knew- you had seen him going multiple times to his office to get clarifications after class. You wondered how the chief felt - did he feel the same sting of recognition you had felt? 

"I don't want you to get any charges, Taehyung," he said, before laughing and adding, "all these years, and I still have my student in my head." 

He stood up and turned to face Taehyung again, worry reflecting in his eyes as he held him by the shoulders. "You're still the Taehyung I know, right?" 

Taehyung looked away, down, his face coming in your line of vision - you could see the small rivulets that flowed from the pool of emotions in his eye, down the lines that worry, anger and disbelief had formed on his face. Sniffing softly, he turned back to the chief. "Yes, Sir." 

The chief visibly relaxed, his arms coming down to his sleeves, gripping Taehyung. "Good. I hope it remains that way." 

He returned to his stern stance, and faced you. "I suggest you keep him here for the night, Y/N." he looked outside, the sky just turning sapphire. "I shall return in the morning to talk. Get some rest while you're at it. And Taehyung? Eat something." 

The chief swiftly departed the office, and Taehyung slumped into the chair. "Seven years, and the old man still remembers me," he laughed mirthlessly, lips twisting in an amused smile. "Always appreciated him." 

"And so did he," you mentioned. Taehyung was always brought up as a comparison for your batch of officers to emulate. Even when he was in jail, he was remembered among you as a diligent student and worker. "'Remember his good', he used to say. He always remembered you."

"And you?" He suddenly looked at you. His eyes were no longer bloodshot - there were small remnants of anger, but all you could see was wistfulness. "Did you remember me, Y/N?" 

a/n: yup, I stopped there. Do leave some feedback if you liked it- in the comments, or as an ask! Also, if you wish to be tagged for the next part, you can ask for that too! Thank you for giving your time to this fic,, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! love, hazel💞

masterlist

[ray-green-wicked4good]

In a recent interview, executive director Christoph Schrewe said that 3x07, "Ourboros" is "kind of the weirdest of all of them!"

Given the title, what are some WEIRD things you think might happen in this episode? Feel free to be, ya know, WEIRD.

Ah, yes! The "ourboros", the serpent chasing its tail, the eternal cycle, destruction and rebirth, or, to put it simpler; unity in all things! What could it possibly mean for our crazy apocalypse train?! Once again out here asking the real questions @olivish !

So aside from the obvious mirror symbolism--of the two trains merging at the end of season 1, aka, Big Alice latching onto the Tail of Snowpiercer only for Snowpiercer to lose its head at the end of season 2 so that season 3 can showcase train pirate now chasing its tail--I think 3x01 has given us plenty of potentially terrifying tidbits that could lead to some weird things popping up in that eternal ourboros cycle. For instance:

1) Layton's vision/dreams/hallucination

A weird take on this new feature could be that Layton's exposure to the toxic/nuclear radiation he encountered in Asha's bunker may have granted him clairvoyance/psychic powers. Which will be super cool to add to his resume for train president, but might cause some of his more loyal followers to question why he's not following the empirical data/hard science anymore. *bonus if Layton's previous stint in the drawers is either hinted at as part of the explanation or if all those who had been drawered have a collective hive mind abd have been sharing the same visions. Could be very weird

2) Alex killing Wilford

I personally think the episode dedicated to cycles of death and rebirth would be a great time for Alex to get her second shot at getting rid of her dearly demented Dubs. It would bring an end to that violent cycle of love and loss and devotion and abandonment she's been trapped in from the start. Is this weird enough? No? Well, we can MAKE it weird. Perhaps Alex develops superpowers of her own. Much like Melanie before her could feel/hear the train, Alex can command it as if it were an extension of her body. She can open and close doors. Short electrical systems. Shake the cars back and forth enough to spill all of Wilford's scotch. In this way is able to trap Wilford in the frozen waste of First class without ever leaving the Engine. And decouple the cars with just a flick of her wrist. No manual overrides. No button pushing. Just Alex becoming one with the train. So that no one can stop her from going to find her mom this time

3) Speaking of Melanie, one of the facets of the ourboros symbol is the unity of the spiritual and the physical. If we haven't gotten confirmation that Melanie is ALIVE by this episode, or more likely--if Train Pirate hasn't yet gotten their proof, I'd like to imagine that this would be the episode that those closest to Melanie start feeling her presence in a big way. Through dreams, hearing her voice in moments of trouble etc. A haunting if you will. I don't have a weird explanation for it, I just want her back. Please let her be the rebirth of the ourboros!

4) Due to the chaos I am sure will follow the scenarios listed above, I think it might be nice for this episode to have a little sanity, which is why my fourth and final weird prediction for 3x07 will be that Zarah will be busy being Layton's psychic spirit guide (going back to her Nightcar roots) and only true supporter, (Josie will by this point have been reunited with Miles and leading her own badass faction) while the Headwoods will be busy trying to slip Wilford as much cold resistant goop as they can...so Zarah and Layton's baby will be given to Jupiter to raise. This feral dog-child will be what kickstarts Jupiter's redemption arc because she will be the Best Mom On The Train.

*So comes the conclusion of my attempt at making some weird predictions. Hope if nothing else it makes you chuckle a little today!

[elizabeethan]

The Days We Defend (Will Turn To Gold)- Chapter 7

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Read on Ao3

A/N: get ready for some smut my pals. Any predictions on what’s to come???

Thank you to my good pal @the-darkdragonfly for being an amazing beta!

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @laschatzi​ @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything  @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious​ @ouatpost​ @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook

“No need to feel threatened, Savior,” the old man says. “I am a friend to you and to your family.”

She steps away, closer to Killian, Corrine, and Henry, and says, “If you're a friend, then why don’t we know you?”

“A very good question indeed. You may not know me, but I assure you, I know you. Or at least, I know of you.”

The man begins walking down the path that leads to the street, away from Granny’s and towards their family, and Killian holds Corrine tighter and reaches for Emma’s hand. “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

“Wait,” Henry says suddenly; apparently the pieces are falling into place in his mind. “I know who he is, mom.”

“I’m sure you do, young man. Go on and tell her what you know.”

Emma turns to her son and looks at him expectantly, obviously still confused about what the bloody hell is going on here, until Henry says, “he’s the Apprentice. We need his help to remove the Darkness.”

The bearded man chuckles as he finally reaches them, extending a hand to Henry’s and shaking it kindly. “Very good, son. You’ve a clever boy here, Emma.”

“I know…” she says suspiciously, as if still not trusting this stranger. “How are you supposed to remove the Darkness from Regina?”

“Why, with your help, of course.”

~~~~

Emma’s been through a lot in the past few hours.

Breaking a curse with True Love’s Kiss, when she struggled to say the words aloud mere weeks ago, was weighing on her.

Knowing her daughter had been cursed and living in a convent, cared for by several strangers for weeks, was weighing on her.

Seeing the lengths to which her son’s other parents would go in order to reduce the time she spends with him, simply because they were upset with her, was weighing on her.

The confirmation that her son’s father would continue to attempt to destroy her life and the lives of her loved ones, despite being stopped from doing so several months prior, was weighing on her.

And being told that her magic, which she’s barely begun to hone, was what was going to solve all of their problems and remove the Darkness for good was the icing on the metaphorical cake.

All things considered, Killian thinks she’s handling things rather well. Corrine is sitting happily in her lap, hugging her mother close as she used to do after Emma had a long day at work, and he can see the stress melting from her shoulders. He hears her say, “I’ve missed you, Coco,” to which their daughter responds with a giggle, and Killian thinks all is right in the world.

Until the old man opens his bloody mouth, of course.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, your majesties?” he says to Emma’s parents, and that makes her ears perk up.

“You know each other?” she asks, stiffening visibly in her chair.

Her parents are silent, turning to each other with looks of horror in their eyes before they look back at their daughter. Queen Snow has tears trailing down her cheeks as she bounces baby Oliver in her arms. “Mom?” Emma asks, her voice breaking and her grip on her daughter tightening before she looks up at Killian desperately. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head unhelpfully, as if he were to have any information on why her parents suddenly became so mysterious. “Grandma, Grandpa, what’s he talking about?”

Upon being called by Henry, David shakes his head and turns back from his wife, then takes a seat across the table from Emma. Snow sits beside her husband, and Emma turns towards Killian, holding her hand out to him to request that he sit as well. Once he does, Snow and David take a deep inhale and begin to speak.

They tell Emma of a time before she was born, when they found out about their unborn child’s potential for great darkness. They tell her about how the Sorcerer's Apprentice was able to cast a spell in order to remove the potential for darkness from Emma. They tell her about how they did this at the expense of another.

Through their conversation, Emma is silent, holding onto Corrine for dear life until she wiggles away and fetches some of Oliver's toys to entertain herself, calling for her brother to play with her. When Killian chances a glance at Emma, the emerald in her eyes is shimmering through the tears threatening to fall, and he has to stop himself from wiping them away. But much to his surprise, she looks away from her parents with betrayal painted across her face and takes his hand again, squeezing it tightly as she sniffles.

“You… you did this… at the expense of someone else’s soul?” she curses out as a tear falls.

“Emma, we did what we thought we had to do to give you your best shot at goodness,” Snow tries to rationalize.

She holds his hand tighter. “All my life, no one has ever believed in me. I thought you were different, but you’re not!”

“No, no honey, it isn’t like that! We just wanted to do what we thought was best for you!”

“And you,” she says, turning in her seat and nearly dragging Killian to the ground as she goes. “You expect me to trust you enough to help us after what you did to me?”

The Apprentice nods somberly and says, “I understand your anger, Savior. But you must know, everything your parents did was by design.”

She scoffs, releasing Killian’s hand and standing as she shakes her head. “You may have removed my potential for darkness,” she says bitterly, “but you certainly didn’t remove darkness from my life. I still got screwed over more times than I can count. Endless abuse, horrible foster placements, Neal...” she trails off, then shakes her head again. Their faces sour at the reminder of their daughter’s turbulent past. “At least when I found you, I thought that everything you did was to protect me and to do what was best, so I could save everyone! Not so that you could save your own selves from having to deal with a monster of a daughter.”

“Emma—”

“Maybe you guys are the monsters here.”

“Emma!” Snow tries again, but she’s met with a raised hand silencing her.

“Killian, I'd like to go home. We can figure this all out tomorrow, but for now, I need to be with my family.”

He clears his throat awkwardly at her insulting snub, scratching behind his ear as he stands and barely making eye contact with Emma’s broken-hearted parents before calling Corrine. “Time to go home, love.”

Corrine stands, bounding over towards her parents happily, reaching her arms out to her father before even getting close. Killian picks her up, grunting as he stands, before she asks him, “monsters are here, duddy?”

Emma’s face goes white and her body stiffens before she puts her head down and turns towards the door.

~~~~

It takes hours for Henry and Corrine to settle down. Killian’s almost proud of his daughter for her resilience and her resistance to her obvious exhaustion as they sit on the couch watching movies in hopes of distracting from everything going wrong in their lives. Truthfully, they should be coming up with a plan to deal with the Dark One, but he, Emma, and their children need time to reconnect and cope with all that has happened today and during the curse. But despite Corrine’s pirate-like behaviors, he must admit that he’s quite exhausted himself, and wouldn't mind some time with Emma separate from his toddler daughter and teenage stepson.

He tries not to rationalize how their house magically became livable again once the curse was broken and instead revelled in the comfort he felt at finally being reunited with his family. With both children asleep on the couch, he plants a kiss to Emma's temple and feels her melt just a bit more into his touch despite Corrine taking up extensive real estate on her lap. “I missed you,” she whispers into the soft glow from the television set.

He chuckles lightly and says, “you didn't remember me,” jokingly. She shrugs, and before she could argue he says, “I missed you too, love. More than I can even put into words.”

“You didn’t remember me,” she flirts back, causing him to tense his arm around her shoulder. He sighs and presses his nose into her hair a bit as he considers how to break the news to her, the scent of her familiar shampoo finally back in his nose and comforting him.

“I did,” he tells her. “And I missed you every moment, even though you were still here.”

She stirs, trying to keep Corrine still on her lap as she snoozes away, and turns just slightly so that she can look at him more directly as his left arm slides down her shoulder. “You did? You mean you were awake all this time?”

“Aye,” he nods as he scratches behind his ear. “I was awake.”

Emma says nothing in response, pinching her brows close together and glancing back down at their daughter before she begins running her fingers through her ever-thickening curls. “Can we,” she whispers, “can we put them to bed? I want to… talk.”

He smiles softly at her ability to even consider opening up to him despite her hesitation to do so just a few weeks ago, and ponders how much one curse can change a person. Perhaps this has more to do with the people who cast it, he thinks. “‘Course, love. Let me wake Henry and we can meet in our room in a few moments?”

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head and reaching her hand out towards his wrist. “We can do both together, it’s okay.”

He finds himself grinning at her openness and willingness to show vulnerability with him, though he curses the fact that it took a traumatic event to drive such behaviors. He knows this is probably a response to learning such horrid things about the people she loves, and while that’s concerning, he chooses to focus on the joy it brings him to feel so close to her.

Henry wakes easily, slowly tromping up the stairs behind Killian and Emma. He would have carried the lad if he was a bit smaller, but he’s growing like a weed into an all out teenager and Killian is getting old, though he’d never admit it. He brushes his teeth without being told by Emma to do so as she rocks Corrine gently in her antique wooden chair, holding her close to her heart and humming softly rather than reading a story. The lass is asleep already, comfortably snoring away in her mother’s embrace, but Killian suspects that Emma can’t put her down. He watches them from his place in the threshold, leaning against the archway of the door and smiling at the fact that his family is finally, finally back together and—

Well, they'll worry about safe tomorrow.

Henry clears his throat from behind Killian and he turns to look at the lad, noting his height and recalling just how mature he was during this curse. The time that past wasn't much, but Killian feels as though Emma’s son has aged endlessly. “Ready to turn in, lad?”

“Aye aye,” he responds with a cheeky grin that could rival his mother’s. Killian smiles at the boy and playfully elbows him, letting him know that he and Emma will be right in to say goodnight.

“And Henry,” he calls after him once he’s walking towards his door. He turns and cocks his head. “Thank you for your help, lad. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Henry rolls his eyes, though Killian catches the hint of a smirk as he turns back around. “You were right, you are more sappy in real life.”

Emma looks up at him with a confused smile, continuing her slow and gentle rocks before she finally stands and heads towards the crib. He walks towards his loves and wraps both arms around the two of them, Corrine sandwiched between her parents, and he presses a long kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. It’s hard for them to put her down, but she hardly stirs as Emma places her on the mattress and steps back.

He can tell that leaving her alone in her room is as hard for Emma as it is for him based on the way she curls into his hold once the babe is out of her arms, but they both come to a silent agreement that they must try and get their lives back on track after the horrors they've been through, and ensure that she sleeps soundly in her own bed despite how much they want to take her into their room. “Come, love,” he whispers against the top of her head, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “I’m very much looking forward to sleeping in our bed again.”

She nods and squeezes her arms around his waist and sniffles, releasing herself from him and brushing her cheeks with her hands before she steps quickly out of Corrine’s room and down the hall towards Henry’s. By the time Killian catches up with her after ensuring that Corrine’s night light is working correctly and her door is propped open just right, he finds Emma sitting on the edge of Henry’s bed and encasing him in a tight hug. “I’ll talk to you about everything tomorrow, kid,” she promises. “Just try and get a good night's sleep, okay?”

Once they’re ready for bed, they crawl in together and Emma immediately curls up against him and presses her lips to his bare chest, just above the heart she returned to him last year.

Although, he would argue that she actually kept it.

“So,” she starts. “You were awake, huh?”

He nods and runs his hand up and down along her spine, feeling her shiver against him. “I was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, Emma. Please don’t—”

“I know,” she cuts him off, and he’s honestly surprised.

“You know?” he asks her hesitantly, stilling his hand in shock for a moment.

She nods against his skin, running her hand from his stomach, up his chest to his shoulder, then down his arm to his naked wrist, drawing a shiver from him. “I know what you're gonna say,” she tells him, picking up his arm and kissing the damaged flesh. He has to remind himself to not pull away from her; that he feels more comfortable with her than he ever has. “It isn’t my fault, I shouldn’t feel guilty for not taking that damn dagger, I can’t control what Neal and Regina do. I’m a mother above being the Savior.”

He hums. “Aye, that about sums it up,” he laughs lightly, picking up his movements along the dips between the bones of her spine.

“And I guess… I guess you're right. I need to stop putting so much pressure on myself over all of this. Things may have turned out better if I had taken the Darkness, but they may have turned out worse, too.”

He moves his head so that he can kiss the top of hers and nods again. “Too right, my love.”

“And all things considered, the curse completely sucked and was, like, pure evil, but no one was hurt.”

“Aye. Though I did swear to Henry last year that I wasn’t going to let Bae cast his curse and hurt anyone he loves.” She hums again, kissing against his chest.

“I guess now it’s my turn to tell you that this isn’t your fault. We couldn’t have predicted any of this. Who would’ve thought Regina could be capable of this?” He knows she’s saying this to try and convince herself. Of course Regina, the Evil Queen, would be capable of this, but he knows that Emma is trying to see the best in her and her attempts to change. “Anyway, it’s been hard for me to admit that and accept it, but I really am trying, I promise.”

“I know you are, darling. That’s all anyone can ask for.”

“Right,” she says, continuing on as if she feels she may stop if she doesn’t get it all out at once. “And I wanna tell you something now, while we’re not in danger, and we haven’t just broken a curse, and we didn’t just have mind numbing orgasms. When things are just… normal.”

“And what’s that, Swan?” he asks with a chuckle. She’s silent for just a moment before she props herself up onto her elbows above him, one arm on either side of his chest so she can look in his eyes. He gives her a soft nod of encouragement and she smiles softly, glancing down from his gaze.

“I love you,” she says once she meets his eyes again before her smile blooms into a wide, bright grin.

He breathes out a soft laugh before reaching his hand up to cup her cheek and pulling her close to him, touching their foreheads together then capturing her lips between his for a sultry kiss. It doesn't break as she collapses back down against him, her shirt a poor replacement for the feeling of her skin against his own. It hardly breaks at all when he mumbles, “I love you,” through their kiss.

It doesn't break when she pulls him towards her until they're rolling over, her back to the mattress and his arms enveloping her in a safe, warm hold. It only breaks for a moment when she reaches down to the hem of her— his— t-shirt and tugs it over her head, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze in a way he hasn’t realized he’d missed so much. He looks down at her chest, then back up into her eyes and kisses her once more on the mouth before trailing his lips down the column of her throat.

It’s been too long. Considering the fact that they had a toddler and often a teenager living under their roof, they had a fairly healthy sex-life before this curse, and he isn’t ashamed to admit that the past few weeks have been torture for more than one reason. He’s missed her in so many different ways, and the way that her body feels under his own is certainly high on that list.

He’s missed the way she whimpers when his mouth finds her hardened nipple and sucks on it gently, his fingers giving attention to the other. He’s missed the heaviness of her breast against his palm. He’s missed the scent of her skin as he drags his nose down her stomach. He’s missed the way she shivers when his fingers dance along the hem of her underwear, already nearly soaked through by her want for him. Her desire matches his own and he pushes his hips against the mattress.

“I love you,” he whispers hotly against the dampened fabric, and he’s missed the way she thrusts her hips enthusiastically towards his face, a heady sigh escaping her parted lips. “I’ve missed you so dearly, my love.”

She moans at the hot breath hitting her still covered flesh, and he’s missed the way she reaches down and curls her fingers into his hair when he’s in this position. “I love you,” she breathes, before commanding, “touch me.”

He presses his lips to her covered center and hums thoughtfully, causing her to throw her head back and moan in the most deliciously sinful way. “I’ll have you know,” he begins, and he wishes he had his hook in place so that he could drag the cool metal against her burning skin. He’d missed the way she mewls when he does that. “That I haven’t been with the woman I love in weeks, and I damn well intend to make this last.”

She groans when he drags a finger down her slit and smirks at her when it dampens through the cotton. “Make it last for you,” she insists. “No need to bring me into your sick torture fantasies.”

He laughs a bit too loud and notices her sitting up just slightly with a grin plastered across her face before he tugs her under garment down to expose her flesh, breaking the string of arousal with his tongue. That shuts her up quite effectively as she throws her head back and moans. “Fuck, god dammit, you are so hot,” she says.

He hums appreciatively once he gets the piece of clothing off her ankles and tosses it to the ground playfully, torturously lifting her knees up towards her chest and making as though he’s about to dive into her core as he so badly wants to. But instead of licking a thick strip through her folds like he normally would, he dips his head and slides up gracefully until he can kiss her mouth, careful not to make contact with her trembling heat.

“You're the worst,” she breathes out against his mouth, hardly even kissing him back as she pants and pushes her hips towards his for friction. “Would you please take your damn pants off? This is seriously unfair.”

He laughs lightly as he continues to peck kisses against her. “Quite demanding, aren't we?”

“I haven’t gotten any in weeks,” she rationalizes, and although he knows her tone was light, he can’t help the thoughts that suddenly spring into his mind. The memories that, during the curse, she and Bae were living together.

“Uh,” he says, suddenly overcome with a feeling he can’t quite put into words. He’s frozen, wanting desperately to continue touching her but also wondering if anyone else has. He knows it wouldn't change his feelings towards her, or his infinite desire to be with her, but it would certainly increase the likelihood that he puts Bae’s head through a wall. “I’m sorry,” he stutters out, lifting himself slightly off of her so that he can regroup.

“Woah, Killian, what just happened?” she sits up, forcing him off of her until he’s on his back to her right and she’s on her side. He notices her quickly squeezing her thighs together and the sight alone is just about enough to bring his head back where he wants it to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I just thought… for a second, I thought about—”

“Hey,” she says, taking his face in her hands once she gets herself up onto her knees. “Nothing happened, okay? I swear to you, nothing happened between me and Neal while we were cursed.”

He meets her eyes with his, surely looking pathetic as he sadly worries about her once again. He can hardly even revel at the fact that she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Aye, love,” he says. He knew of course that she wouldn't want to be with Bae, but it’s difficult to control one's actions when one is placed under a Dark Curse.

“I love you, Killian,” she insists firmly, still holding his cheeks against her palms. “Even while we were cursed, I never wanted anything to do with him. I wanted you from the moment I… met you… I guess.”

He chuckles softly, leaning his face into her hand and kissing her right wrist. “I love you too, Swan. Sorry to bring the mood down.”

“It’s okay,” she says with a smirk, “I’m sure there are ways you could bring it back up.”

She giggles lightly at her own joke as he flips them so that she’s on her back again, then he’s kissing her fiercely as she runs her hands along the scars decorating his back. She moans when he squeezes her breast in his hand, and drags her feet up his thighs until she finds purchase on his rear, as if trying to slide his pants down with her feet. He loves how easily he can laugh with her while they're in bed together, and he bites her bottom lip when she finally gives up.

Killian decides that he isn’t satisfied with how he left things earlier, not even having a taste of what he’s been missing for so long, so he slides himself lower along her body, still stubbornly refusing to remove his sleeping trousers and drawing a frustrated but clearly aroused groan from her. “Touch me, god dammit,” she breathes out desperately.

“So demanding,” he chastises playfully, kissing her hot skin softly so that she bucks against him. “And so eager.”

“Someone has been torturing me for hours,” she nearly spits out, grabbing onto his hair again and attempting to push his head down against her.

He runs the tip of his tongue along her parting flesh, not quite reaching where she needs him, although it’s more than she’s gotten so far. “We’ve only been at this for about 15 minutes, my love,” he reminds her with a chuckle.

“Please,” she breathes, moaning when he finally dips his tongue in. He seems to have effectively cut her off based on the way her mouth hangs open and no sound comes out. He hums expectantly as if to ask her to go on with her thought, and that seems to send her into a state as she tosses her head to one side and cries out softly again. “I wanted,” she starts, barely able to get the words out as he licks her up and down, “I wanted to jump you the minute the curse broke.”

He laughs against her skin and she clamps her legs against his head, somehow tugging on his hair and pushing him down towards herself at the same time. He hums and nods in agreement, dragging his lips and tongue along as he does so.

She’s a wanton thing under him, panting and moaning with nearly each movement of his tongue and the suction of his lips against her pulsing clit. He’s missed this.

He has to hold his blunt arm against her lower belly once he finally dips his fingers into her, the first followed quickly by a second, because she can't seem to stop herself from bucking her hips against him for more friction. She continues to thrust into his hand and mouth and shortened wrist, the sounds coming from her far too loud and yet not loud enough for his desperate ears. When he finally feels her clamping hard against his fingers as they curl just so, he nearly loses himself inside his sleeping outfit at the sight of her breasts heaving with her pants and moans and soft curses of his name.

He lets her ride herself through it against his fingers, continuing to lave his tongue against her until she’s jumping at the touch against her sensitive flesh, before he slides back up her body, planting wet kisses along her stomach, chest and neck until he reaches her mouth. She kisses him back enthusiastically, if not exhaustively, and he nearly loses himself again at the knowledge that she enjoys the taste of herself on him as much as he does.

They continue to kiss each other passionately until it seems like she’s recovered enough to go again, wrapping her legs around his hips and probably ruining the trousers he still wears. Not that he minds one bit. “Love you,” he mumbles against her, and she nods in response.

“I want you inside me so bad,” she says darkly, her voice rumbling in her chest against his mouth. “I wanted you from the first time I saw you, even though I was cursed. I love you so damn much.”

“I want to be inside you,” he returns, and honestly, he thinks he may be outside of himself and looking on as he tugs his pants down and lines himself up to her, because this couldn't possibly be real. After such anguish in waiting to be back here, it feels surreal. “You have no idea how badly I wanted you, Swan. I just wanted to hold you and kiss you and fuck you.”

She moans against his mouth, insisting, “do it now, please,” in a soft whimper.

He does, growling at her fervor and nudging himself against her until she spreads her legs even wider in acceptance and he slides home. They both groan at the sensation of him filling her, and it’s as he feels her clenching herself around him that he finally finds the wherewithal to start moving. He thrusts gently at first, trying to keep it slow and torturous because he doesn't want this feeling to end, but as she moans in his ear and claws at his back intoxicatingly, he’s suddenly unable to control himself as he rocks against her faster and harder.  The sounds she makes are the fuel he needs to keep going, telling him that she needs it as hard and raw as he does. Telling him that they’ll get to that point of slow and steady and soothing soon enough, but for now, they need the rough-and-tumble to further confirm that this is real and that they’re back in each other’s arms.

He tilts his hips just slightly so that he thinks his pelvis is striking her clit in the way she likes it, and he kisses away the tear that escapes her left eye and whispers against her cheek, “so good for me, Swan. So tight and perfect, I love you so much.”

It’s reminiscent of the night they spent together just before the curse was cast, only this time she says, “I love you, Killian,” as she stares into his eyes.

The combination of the emotion he’s feeling and the fact that he’s been so close to her and yet unable to go near her catches up to him, and he has to put in far too much effort to ensure that she’s brought to that place of ecstasy before he spills himself into her. “Are you close?” he asks desperately, feeling like a teenager who finishes too quickly.

“So, so close, baby, please don’t stop,” she pleads. “Just like that, don’t stop.”

He uses his hand to grip her hip, tilting her up just a bit so that his angle is deeper, and at that he feels her fluttering and clenching her walls around him with a force that tells him she’s about to cascade towards the rapture that they've been chasing. The soft, high pitched cries barely escaping her throat give him the permission he needs to let go, and she’s falling with him as he wraps his arms around her and holds her as close to him as he can as they fade together into a blissful state of euphoria.

She’s wrapped her arms around him too, squeezing him as her orgasm ripples through her but letting go once her body goes limp, letting her elbows drop to the mattress and keeping her hands weakly on his sides. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “My god.”

He chuckles and kisses her cheek. “Killian will do,” he says with a smirk that he knows she can hear in his voice.

She smacks his rear playfully, eliciting a yelp from him in response to the sting, and then kisses his cheek tenderly.

“Can I get you some water, my dear?” she hums in response, nodding against his face and giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

“That would be very nice, thank you.”

When he returns, she’s cleaned herself up and curled under the blankets, but he’s pleased to see that she hasn’t bothered with getting dressed. He smirks at her as he hands over the glass after taking another swig from it, then removes his own boxers and crawls in next to her, placing a soft kiss on her temple once she lies back down. “That was pretty good,” she says playfully.

“The water or the sex?”

“Both, I guess,” she shrugs.

He hums out a laugh, equal parts entertained and exhausted, and wraps his arms around her so that her back is planted firmly against his front. “Should we talk about your parents?”

She snorts. “We’re both naked.”

“A fact that I very much appreciate,” he quips. “I just meant what happened earlier. It’s been quite a trying day for you and you learned something new about them.”

“Trying for all of us.” He hums. “I don't know, it sucked. I wish it never happened, but then I wonder what my life would be like if it hadn’t. Probably could've been a lot worse, I guess.”

“Aye, I suppose that’s possible.” She nods. “I’m sorry.”

Emma shakes her head, taking his forearms and pulling them tighter around herself. “It’s something I'll just have to deal with.”

“Right.”

“But you’ll be here, right? You’ll… I won’t bear it alone?”

In response to her repeating his own words back to him, he chuckles. Then, he nods against the back of her neck, placing a kiss there and grinning as he says, “precisely. Always.”

She pulls away a bit and he instantly misses the warmth of her skin against his and fears that she’s closing herself off, but instead she rolls over to hug him close and hitches one leg between his two, kissing his throat. “‘M tired.”

“Aye, love,” Killian agrees, running his hand along her back. “We’ll sort everything in the morning.”

She nods. “We've got to come up with a plan for dealing with Regina and Neal. They can’t get away with this.”

“We will,” he assures her in a whisper. “We won't let them.”

Just as he’s sure she’s faded under the blanket of sleep, she whispers, “love you,” into his skin, and he sleeps soundly.

[humandisasterskywalker]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Whump, Angst, No Beta We Die Like Clones, alternative universe - different masters, Miscommunication Series: Part 5 of Whumptober 2021 Summary:

Whumptober 2021

Day 5 - I'VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER

betrayal & misunderstanding & broken nose

“What was it you said about him. That he was a ‘nuisance that trailed around your Master like a lost Tooka.’ That you’d ‘drop him back off on Tatooine if you could’. Don’t worry Obi Wan I’m sure all of us would be resentful about your Master’s supposed chosen one if we were in your position.”

“I’m just gonna go,” said a small voice.

Of Course Obi Wan had resented Anakin at the start. His Master had tried to throw away their new bond to take on Anakin instead. But he'd grown on him over the years. They had grown close. Not that Obi Wan had told his other friends that.

.

.

.

Obi Wan was sure he would never enjoy being in the council chambers. As an initiate when he feared not getting a master at all they were a place of potential failure. A place where his dreams could die. Where he would be rejected.

When he was a Padawan those very fears had become true within this chamber. His Master had been willing to throw away their new bond for the nine-year-old slave boy they had found on a mission to Tatooine. The council had rejected the move, reminding Qui-Gon Jinn of the responsibilities he had undertaken when accepting Obi Wan as a Padawan but he had never forgotten the feeling of rejection. Of his despair when he felt he was being cast aside.

“By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, Knight Kenobi, you may rise."

A  Lightsaber flared and with a swing, his Padawan braid fell to the floor.

Obi Wan reached forward, picking up the braid before standing. The council was arrayed around him. They were smiling, Master Yoda in particular looked pleased, almost smug. As if some sort of plan had been seen to fruition.

Qui-Gon was stood in front of him, looking uncharacteristically emotional. Obi Wan smiled at him before presenting him with the braid. As difficult as the early years of their apprenticeship had been, as much as their relationship had never truly been repaired from that mission he could not help but appreciate that his Master had stuck with him ever since. That he had fulfilled his promise. That he had seen him through to Knighthood.

“You may go Knight Kenobi.” Master Windu said with a knowing smile. “I can sense your friends are already outside ready to celebrate.”

Obi Wan bowed to the council before turning and leaving the chamber.

As suggested there was a crowd of Senior Padawans and young Knights waiting just outside the door.

“I can’t believe you’ve done it!” Bant squealed, throwing her arms around him.

Obi Wan raised his eyebrows. “Did you have that little faith in me going into the trials?”

She pulled back, hitting him in the arm. “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it!”

Obi Wans face broke into a smile.

“I only meant that you’ve been self-deprecating ever since you became a Padawan and I am over the moon that you have finally proved yourself wrong.”

“You have subjected us to multiple monologues about how you were never going to be good enough to be a Knight” Greef agreed ruffling Obi Wans hair. “It did seem that you were you’re own worst enemy. None of us ever thought you’d have a problem, you always worked harder than any of us did.”

“Speak for yourself!” Bant laughed. “None of you have to spend hours on the wards in the Hall of Healers.”

Greef grinned at her “I apologise greatly Bant, please ensure that I still receive top notch treatment when I am dragged in after a mission.”

“You would be better off not having to come into the chambers at all.” She retorted.

Quinlan threw an arm around his shoulders. “Where are we going to celebrate then. I owe you revenge after the state you got me into after my Knighting.”

“I think you only have yourself to blame their Quin, no one said you had to do shots of all the spirits in that bar.” Obi Wan laughed.

“You issued it as a challenge. I do not say no to challenges.” Quinlan said his arm tightening around Obi Wans neck.

“And that challenge,” Bant interjected “Resulted in all of us back in the temple within hours with both of you making acquaintances with the fresher floor. Can’t we have a slightly quieter one this time?”

“Never! Quinlan crowed before tilting his head considering, “But then again, if we stayed out longer it might be possible to see what happens when you get beyond a couple of drinks Bant. No, I’ve changed my mind. We’ll do it your way.”

Obi Wan smiled as they began to bicker. It had been too long since they had all been at the Temple together. He had missed it.

“Congratulations are in order I hear.”

Obi Wan winced, turning towards Bruck Chun.

“Thank you Bruck”

“You must be very happy, not to have to put up with that brat from Tatooine trailing after you anymore. You can get away from him now that your not with a Master that cares more about him than you.”

“Piss off Bruck!” Greef growled.

“What, I’m just saying I’m impressed. It must be difficult to get knighted when your Master is more interested in someone else's apprentice.”

He smirked.

“What was it you said about him. That he was a ‘nuisance that trailed around your Master like a lost Tooka.’ That you’d ‘drop him back off on Tatooine if you could’. Don’t worry Obi Wan I’m sure all of us would be resentful about your Master’s supposed chosen one if we were in your position.”

Obi Wans friends had gone quiet. Grey-faced.

“What Obi Wan, not willing to remember everything you complained about him. How you wished he was never found and was left in slavery.”

“I never said that!” Obi Wan snapped. “Yes I said I resented him, yes I said complained. I may have wished we never went to Tatooine and that I never met him, but I never wished he was still a Slave.”

Bruck looked triumphant.

“Obi-“ Bant sounded pained.

“I’m just gonna go.” Said a small voice.

Obi Wan whirled round. Anakin was standing off to the side, he hadn’t noticed him after he left the chamber, mobbed as he’d been by all his former creche-mates. Anakin's face was carefully blank. Obi Wan had never seen him display fewer emotions. Obi Wan could normally read him like a book, but now he couldn’t tell anything. It was like Anakin was shutting down.

He turned to leave, slipping behind the crowd and walking down the corridor.

“Anakin, Ani wait!”

Obi Wan pushed through the crowd, Brucks voice echoing behind him.

“Looks like you’ve managed to ruin another relation there Obi, what is it with you being unable to maintain any sort of connection.

“You absolute dick!” Quinlan shouted jumping at him.

Obi Wan ignored the sound of the scuffle, trying to chase down Anakin.

He had walked quickly, the door on the turbo-lift already closing. Obi Wan caught sight of his face before the door closed. It was like a knife being driven into his heart. Anakin had never looked that upset before, even in the early days when he was homesick. And it was all because of him.

Anakin was nothing if not predictable, and had a small list of places he tended to go when upset, so Obi-Wan had assumed he would be able to find him quickly.

He was wrong, Anakin wasn’t in his quarters and Master Koon had not seen him. He wasn’t in the quarters he shared, well used to share with Qui-Gon. He wasn’t in the Speeder or Starfighter hangers. He wasn’t in the mechanics' office. He wasn’t in the small area in the basement where the Temple kept their mouse droids.

He couldn’t find him.

Obi Wan let his feet take him towards the Room of a Thousand fountains. Anakin wouldn’t be there, he had always hated meditation. That was one of the things he used to complain about. When Anakin had first come to the Temple he used to disrupt Obi Wans attempts to meditate all the time, but over the years he had grown almost fond of the disruption. He expected it. Not that he’d ever told anyone.

He headed towards his favoured spot, an area near one of the waterfalls.

It was already filled.

Anakin sat with his back to him. He was sat in a meditative position but Obi Wan knew he wasn’t meditating. His body was vibrating with repressed tension.

“Was it true?” Anakin said without turning to him. “Was what Brock said true, did you say those things about me?”

Obi Wan sighed. He sat next to Anakin, staring into the water.

“No… It wasn’t… That. That is not how I said it!”

Anakin closed his eyes before nodding.

“So that's a yes.”

Obi Wan felt constricted as if he could barely breathe. He felt like something was collapsing, that he was losing something significant. A bond that he had never truly accepted, but was now being ripped away from him.

“Anakin it was years ago.” He said frantically, “When you first came to the temple. I was hurt from what my Master said and I took it out on you to my friends. It wasn’t true!”

“I thought you were a superhero.” Anakin said dully, “I worshipped you. I thought you were the ideal Jedi, the role model for me to aim for. You were the one person here who I knew. The one friend I had. And all that time you were complaining about me. Laughing about me to your friends. Resenting me.”

He looked at Obi Wan. For the first time, he saw the passion that Anakin was so often caught up in directed at him. It wasn’t just sadness it was deep anger.

“Was I truly that oblivious? That the whole time I spent following you, trying to get a small part of your attention you were hating me. That you didn’t want me around. That I was making your life worse.”

“Anakin-“

“You could have told me to back off. I would have done it. I would have done anything you asked me to.”

“You can’t mean that.” Obi Wan said desperately.

“I do,” Anakin said with such surety. Like it was something that had never been questioned. That it was a simple fact in his life. “Well, I would have done, before.”

Obi Wan couldn’t accept it. This couldn’t be true, he had to find a reason why this wasn’t true.

“Anakin you were only nine when you came here, surely you can’t commit yourself so sure when you're that young.”

“Why Not? Clearly, you committed yourself to how much you resented me. You never told Bruck otherwise”

“Come on Anakin, I was thirteen years old being bothered by someone four years younger than me that would never shut up. How was I not supposed to be resentful!”

Obi Wan regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. They were harsh, not at all what he meant. Why couldn’t he talk to Anakin? Why could he only hurt him?

He wasn’t shocked when the first connected with his nose. He would have done it to himself if he was able.

Anakin left, storming out of the room shaking his fist.

Obi Wan stayed sat, holding his nose to stop the bleeding. He felt bereft. Like something had been irreparably broken.

This had supposed to be the best day of his life. The day that he finally achieved all the dreams he had ever hoped for. But it no longer felt like it.

He felt adrift. It was far too quiet. He felt desperately alone. And the worst thing was, he knew it was entirely his fault.

[fly-pow-bye]

DuckTales 2017 - “GlomTales!”

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Bob Snow

Written by: Colleen Evanson

Storyboard by: Vince Aparo, Emmy Cicierega, Ben Holm

Directed by: Tanner Johnson

Scheme-worthy!

The episode begins with Louie looking out the window in the room he has been grounded in in the last episode. Yes, he managed to get a grounding that actually lasts more than an ending of an episode, what a concept. He sees Scrooge and the rest of the family preparing for another adventure that is pretty much 100% out of Scrooge's unwillingness to lose the big bet that he made with Glomgold.

Louie tells himself that while he's grounded, at least he wouldn't be dragged into another dangerous adventure. He then notices the hobo bindles and cans of beans, and realizes exactly what they're going to adventure to a place where there's cherry Pep springs, where the con men sing, where the geysers spit out gold for everyone, and the Hobo King has a Ruby Bindle with Scrooge's name on it. In a reference to the old folk song, they're going to the Big Rock Candy Mountain, and Louie jumps out of the door and says he has to go.

Of course, Louie's mom is not going to let Louie go on the adventure of his dreams, because he's still grounded. Della's not going to be a pushover like she was in the last episode, oh no, she's not everything covered for him as we'll soon see.

Della: You can come out when you learn that no good ever came from cockamamie schemes!

In a masterful transition, we cut to the A plot of the episode, where Glomgold is using a slingshot to try to get into the Junkyard where Ma Beagle and her Beagle Boys live. While he ends up succeeding, he does end up in the hands of Bouncer Beagle.

Glomgold tries to defend his trespassing of the junkyard by saying that he's here because he has a plan to defeat Scrooge and his family. In his words, he's only here to recruit, not as workers, but as family, and family is the greatest scheme of all, according to him. With an evil laugh, we cut to a not-so-familiar title sequence.

Instead of the usual DuckTales theme song, we get his Theme Song Takeover instead. Honestly, I would have been disappointed if they didn't use it; it's great! It starts with him following the blueprint, we get "amazing CGI" that makes him look like some sort of muscleman, and lyrics that can only come from the masterful schemer, like "Scrooge stinks, Scrooge stinks, Scrooge stinks, Scrooge stinks!"

After that, we see that Ma Beagle is not exactly thrilled with working with Glomgold. She thinks he's a moron, and he can never beat Scrooge because he's smarter than the smarties. She also correctly accuses him of only doing this because he wants to win the bet. Kind of an interesting comparison between the two combatants of the bet: both Scrooge and Glomgold only have that on the mind. Of course, Scrooge is just getting more treasure, while Glomgold just wants to wipe out the other guy and his family.

The usual three Beagle Boys chime in to this offer, saying that they need a powerful male figure in their lives, and eventually Ma Beagle accepts the offer. No, not because she feels sorry for Glomgold, but because if Scrooge is defeated, she can get what she wants out of it: the deed to Duckburg. This is going to be a theme.

Meanwhile, Louie tries to sneak out, only to find his new babysitter...

Schedulebot: Punishment time! Punishment time!

Oh no, not Schedulebot! Get back in your own cartoon! Okay, it's actually DT-87, the security robot that also doubles as a video player that has Della trying to teach Louie ethics. Gotta say, Della using a robot that doesn't have a good track record of not becoming evil may not be her best idea. Granted, she wasn't around when this robot was attempting to shoot the kids with steel cutting lasers all those episodes ago, so I cannot exactly blame her for not knowing about it.

Or, maybe she did know, and she doesn't care, as we see that one of the ways DT-87 is keeping Louie into his room is with that said steel cutting laser. Granted, those lasers are different-looking here; they could be just set to stun, but we never find out if that's actually the case.

The next stop is Waddle, where Mark Beaks is busy looking up if he's still the "hottest" and "tallest" of the billionaires. He scoffs at Glomgold's offer to take down Scrooge while being a part of his family because he's too busy raising his rep with his inventions, like his very own cryptocurrency named Beakcoin! Surprisingly, Bitcoin is still relevant, at least from my research. Big Time wants to know where this magical coin is, and Beaks says it's in the cloud.

While the joke this leads to is predictable, I do like the execution, as Bouncer decides to throw Burger out the window to the clouds. Needless to say, he won't be successful, and Beakscoin isn't really the point of this episode anyway.

While Glomgold couldn't get Mark Beaks on his family, Ma Beagle decides to do her own plan based on her manipulation skills. She talks about how Mark Beaks is a loser, anyway, and there's no reason to use technology against Scrooge. Mark Beaks, out of offense for both of those, decides to join in as the Gyro Gearloose of the family.

Oh yeah, Glomgold is trying to get equivalents to all the people in the Manor, or at least the people that are in a photo he is putting faces onto. He has himself as the Scrooge, Ma Beagle as his Mrs. Beakley, the Beagle Boys as his Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and, as mentioned before, Mark Beaks as his Gyro Gearloose. It's neat to know Burger is supposed to be the Huey. I couldn't really tell what Burger's character is supposed to be even now.

Glomgold has to find his Launchpad McQuack, and that turns out to be the legendary Don Karnage. He is completely fine with going after Scrooge's family...or at least just the one member of it that defeated him. He also wants to sing, but I'd imagine they'd want to save the money they would put into such a musical number for the Moonvasion.

Finally, his family is complete, at least according to Glomgold. Unfortunately for him, Don Karnage and Big Time Beagle point out that he’s missing someone: he needs a Webby. Glomgold knows what person that needs to be, and he’s none too happy to get her.

Oh yeah, I kind of forgot to mention what happened to Magica De Spell in her last appearance. I would talk about that, but I'd say the way this episode introduces her is good enough.

We see Magica do this majestic boasting that she is the one that will make the world tremble, while in a void of purple dust clouds. If Dragon Ball Z has taught me anything, if there's dust clouds, that means it's probably not what it seems...

...and it turns out that the times after The Shadow War have not been kind to the wicked not-so-witch, as she's now a birthday magician for Funso’s Fun Zone. Her willingness to take over the world is only mitigated by her manager telling her not to do that.

Glomgold tries his best to not get Magica in his family, not because she would definitely overshadow him in every way...at least, that’s what he wants people to think.

To make a long story short, she agrees to become Glomgold's Webby, all so she can prove that she's Scrooge's worst enemy. Glomgold reluctantly agrees, and they begin the Glomgold-vasion. Also, yes, I like all everyone is dressed for the occasion. One can't see it here, but Mark Beaks's disguise is just a shirt that says "I am 10 years old". Mentally, yes.

Meanwhile, oh no, Louie used his master scheming to get Huey into his room, somehow! At least, that's what Louie wants DT-87 to think, as he tries to do the sibling switcheroo. We never find out if Della could tell the difference between the boys like Donald could in the comics; I’d think she would.

We don’t find out because of one one problem with this scheme: DT-87 knows fully well that Huey is on the adventure of Louie's dreams, as it shows that it's getting a video call from Huey.

Of course, the other kids are having this unbelievably amazing adventure at the Big Rock Candy Mountain's river made entirely of cherry Pep. Emphasis on unbelievable, it's just like that cliche plot where the kids decide to skip school, and the school happened to be doing something cool that day. It's almost like Della is rubbing it in by even allowing Huey to do this.

Eventually, one of Della's videos on ethics leads to her saying that Louie just needs to learn that his schemes are harming his family, and he should just stop. Louie tells himself that those schemes are the only thing he's good at.

Speaking of schemes, the newly formed Glomgold family all show up, using all of their abilities to infiltrate the manor. The manor has cannons, but they're all stopped by Don Karnage's ship. DT-87 tries to stop them, but his lasers are not set to "can do anything to Bouncer before he bashes his head in". Duckworth tries to use his ghostly demon form to scare them off, but Magica uses her ghost-capturing gem to capture him. Wait, I thought she lost her magic! Also, this never gets undone.

Unfortunately, all of this leads to their disappointment when they only see the grounded green one. They get angry at Glomgold for not checking if the others were on vacation, and that his scheme is worthless. I mean, that's what the adventure pretty much was, so I can't exactly say that's wrong. As Glomgold mopes about how his schemes are the only thing he feels he's good at, Louie gets an idea. Oh no, don’t be inspired by him!

We cut to Scrooge's premature celebration of winning the bet, and Zan Owlson congratulates Scrooge, and she can't hide that she would love to not work for that dreadful schemer.

Sadly for her, that dreadful schemer arrives with his family, and we get a shot that is worthy of the promos. This makes this look like the big battle we have all been waiting for. Well, except for that other one that involved those Moon people.

We get that big battle, actually, though it’s a bit late in the episode for it to pay off that much! One highlight is Glomgold and Magica eventually fighting each other, as they both want to beat up Scrooge. Of course, all of these mixed motives aren’t exactly making Glomgold win, much of the chagrin of the one that planned this invasion of Scrooge’s party.

Louie shows up, acting as if he's the big planner of this. His family is none too pleased, especially not Della, who was ready to give Louie a souvenir from the Big Rock Candy Mountain because she felt so sorry for him. Because of course.

Louie tells his plan: he was going to have each of the family members combine their fortunes, and, thanks to that contractual agreement, Glomgold gets to have a combined fortune.

With that combined fortune, this gives Glomgold more money than Scrooge, making him win the bet at the last minute! Oh no, say it ain't so!

Of course, this isn't how it ends. However, in a twist, it doesn't end in the other way either. This is all due to a technicality that goes into Glomgold's history. See, the deal Louie made is that the money is supposed to go to Flintheart Glomgold. However, there's one problem: there's no Flintheart Glomgold. There's a scheming guy who likes to call himself that, but his name is actually Duke Baloney!

Because of the contract they signed, all the money also goes to his partner, and since the partner actually exists, that means the money goes to one Llewellyn Duck. Wait, what?

In the end, Della pretty much instantly forgives Louie at this point due to the plan saving Scrooge McDuck from losing...as long as that money is transferred right back to Scrooge. Yeah, I'm not getting the vibe that he'll actually do that.

How does it stack up?

I liked this episode. Louie's schemes to get out of his time-out were pretty clever, including one I left out of the review. The big star of this episode is Glomgold. While it may not be the big battle, that's because we got another big battle coming up. Yeah, it's good.

Next, we get to see what happens when one becomes the richest duck in the world.

← TimePhoon! 🦆 The Richest Duck In The World! →

[sainadazai]

Chapter 4

A/n ahh yesterday was bakugous birthday I love him oml everyone say happy birthday even though its late

"They say clothes make the pros, ladies and gentlemen. And behold you are the proof." all might spoke, smiling brightly as everyone exited the changing rooms.

You walked out in a group, making it difficult to see everyones costumes, but you caught a glimpse of some that were rather cool. All Might seemed to think as well his words being "This is getting me all ramped up, you look so cool!" He really is too excited for his own good.

As everyone had finally taken their places, standing scattered in a bunch of costume-clad teens, you could finally look around and take in some of the impressive ideas your classmates had. Momo, wearing a quite revealing one-piece that was a beautiful red, contrasting with a yellow belt. It was showy, but you wouldn't say she looked anything less than badass.

Might be difficult to fight her while she wears it, though. You would want any mishaps to happen for the perverts around here, or in here.

"Woah! L/n I like your costume! It fits your quirk, haha" Momo approached you, as she laughed joyfully.

It better. This hero suit design had been in the works since you were just a preschooler. A skin-tight silver body suit that stops in the middle of your thigh. Two purple stripes going down either side from the shoulder down. A zipper, metal obviously, by the slightly turtlenecked top that goes halfway down your bust. On your hands, purple fingerless gloves, with concealed brass knuckles to benefit hand to hand combat.

Then, around your left thigh, a garter that also served as storage for small capsules of your own blood, just in case you're in need of something metal, and would be at risk if you cut yourself. The capsules are secured in little pockets around the garter, a pop of red to the otherwise shiny grey costume.

However, the favorite part ever since you were little, was the boots. They were a shiny purple that rose tightly up to your lower thighs, they were fireproof material with removable silver heels. Why? Well so that you can shoot them off using your quirk at any point in battle,or, if liquified, could be used to make you float.

This was an idea you and your mom thought of after seeing a movie where a girl shot bullets from her high heels, she told you that that was a badass woman moment, and ever since badass has been your favorite compliment to give. That was at age 7. Finishing off the costume you wore thick silver and purple glasses that scanned objects for metals and told you what metals they were, to make things easier to manipulate and multiply.

"I-am sorry-"

"L/n!"

"Sorry, um thanks! Yours looks badass, too. "

"Thanks L/n."

The two of you made your way over to jirou and continued to talk, or try to talk while stuttering. As they spoke to you, subconsciously you kept on the lookout for Todoroki. He was nowhere to be seen in the mess of teens, but you did spot Midoriya having what looked to be a seizure as he conversed with a very revealed Uraraka. She looked beautiful,too. Even though her suit was skin tight, it fit her well, showing her curves in a modest but flattering way. Her most gorgeous feature,though, was her hair, so instead of your eyes lingering on her body in its glory, you found yourself entranced with the shine of her hair, and the blush on her cheeks.

Even though you were stuck in your own attempts at conversation, not paying attention to the half and half boy anymore, he was paying attention to you. His eyes stuck to your face as it smiled and your eyes when they brightened. Wandering down to your chest, luckily zipped up and away from the observing eye, your curves every little dip around your waist and hip, your legs, thigh, calf, all the muscles you'd worked to obtain since childhood. Todoroki was entranced by you, and how you looked like a hero already.

He wondered if the girls had made you their friend since you were shy, if they took you in and wanted to be your friend since you didn't have the words to ask them yourself. If so, should he do the same? It seemed to work for them, he might need to re-think his plan.

You both were brought away from your separate places as Iida spoke.

"This is the fake city from our entrance exam." He spoke robotically, from inside a full armored suit.

You looked around, not previously noticing this was indeed one the cities from the exam. "Will we be conducting urban battles again?"

"Not quite,I'm going to move you two steps ahead!" All Might gestured the number two with his fingers.

"Most of the villain fights you see on the news happen outside. However, statistically speaking, the most disastrous villain fights happen indoors. Think about it, backroom deals, home invasions,secret underground layers. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise you'll be split into heroes and villains and perform two on two battles."

The girl from lunch, with the frog quirk, spoke up, "Isn't this a little advanced?"

The pro simply smiled "The best training is what you get on the battlefield,"

"Wouldn't call this a battlefield.." you mumbled, looking around at all your classmates who you supposed would be villains soon. How did he expect other hero students to be able to play the villain? You understood that getting in a villain's mind might be important, but really how good could anyone do?

"But remember you can just punch a robot this time, you're dealing with actual people now."

"Sir, will you be the one deciding who wins?"

"How much can we hurt the other team?"

"Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled like earlier-"

-

You walked down the concrete path keeping All Mights words in mind.

"The situation is this: the villains have hid a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to soil their plans. To do that the good guys either have to catch the evil do-ers, or apprehend the weapon. Likewise the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes."

Next to you stood a tall, blonde haired boy with a tail, he'd asked you to call him ojiro. The two of you, much to your dislike, were meant to play villains. Another dislike, you'd be going up against Shoto Todoroki and Mezo Shoji. After thinking it through, you figured they could use Shoji's ears and other heightened senses to find the two of you, and Todoroki would probably just freeze you. How could you fight if you couldn't move, right? Wrong.

Ferrokinesis is the manipulation of metal through the mind. You had especially trained yourself to combat without using a single bone in your body, it just takes concentrated breathing. It might have been nice to inform your partner of that, to ease his mind, and maybe plan some sort of strategy, but you haven't been able to speak outside of greeting him. Thus, you entered the tall building silently and stood by the missile, waiting for the "Heroes" to come.

"Uhm, L/n, did what happened earlier make this whole thing a lot more...scary?" He began, startling you by initiating conversation.

"Um, what do you mean by that? Like Midoriya and Bakugou fighting?" You questioned, a lot more comfortable considering you were just alone with him.

"Yeah, like seeing how real it can get, you know.." his face screamed nervousness, and that really wouldn't help the two of you, plus you needed to get into a villain mindset, still.

"No, you see, the fact that things might get more real now, it'll only help us. Recovery girl is there to heal any injuries later, so I say we should all fight like that. Well, not like- I- you"

"I get it."

"Uhm, yeah, if we all give it one hundred and ten percent, that's how we will actually get better, and maybe learn how to handle ourselves in different situations. If things go bad now, it'll be easy, we just get really angry and mean like bakugou, perfect villains, ha"

"Heheh, yeah, your right L/n"

"S-yeah, thanks"

You suddenly felt cold rising from below, guess you were right about that. Feeling proud of yourself, you decided to indulge the part of the villain just a bit more. Earlier had simply been two kids talking, but now, you'd strut your heels and be the scariest female they'd ever seen, or try at least.

"Mmm, why must heroes be so predictable!" You stomped and let out a crazed pout.

Ojiro was taken back by your sudden behavioral change, not knowing how you and dad used to play hero and villain all the time. His eyebrows raised in question at your statement, and he took a few steps away. The task to become villains totally forgotten as he watched you throw a fit.

"Damn todoroki, it's cold up here now! Don't you fools get it. Missiles need heat. C'mon then pretty boy, hurry up and freeze us so we can see that dumb hero smirk! I know you want too~" You were talking to the floor, swinging your arms and legs around as you paced back and forth. Trying your best not to overthink the cheesy, embarrassing words coming from your mouth.

"Frozen?"

Turning to your partner you shot him a smirk, "Yeah, pretty boy thinks he can immobilize us from outside, pft. How silly of him, thinking I'd go down without dinner first." Your words were getting out of hand. Was this what villains were like, or were you just hiding some secret vulgar persona? He was confused until he saw the strained tears building in your wide eyes. You were doing this against your own nature, trying your best to succeed.

"So then, um L/n, you must have quite the plan to escape these pros and keep our missile intact, hahaha" His fake laughs were nowhere near as good as yours, but it eased you that he was trying.

Meanwhile, Shoji was waiting behind Todoroki, face completely red and eyes wide. He heard your comments easily, and was completely frozen on the image of, well, what you had insinuated.

"Why are you red?" todoroki questioned, as his teammate looked incredibly flustered. Had he done something to fluster shoji? He didn't think so.

"G-go, um, L/- she" he short circuited before he could finish, being completely flustered and no longer functional.

"Alright..."

Todoroki continued his way up the several floors of the building now covered in ice, having been told where the two of you were hiding along with the missile. His feet crunched loudly against the ice covered floors, a smirk residing on his face. The boy was a little upset at first that his first interaction with you would be like this.

However, images of his father in his mind made him remember his purpose for being here. He was supposed to be the best, and you were supposed to be a villain. Number one heroes dont take pity on a villain just because she's cute.

"This quirk is insane," He heard your partner speak before entering the room. Upon showing his face, Ojiro was quick to take a defensive stance, while you were off in the corner of the room, leaning against a wall, feet equally stuck to the ground.

"Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet." He smirked.

Shoto was continuing to walk towards the missile, thinking he'd won. Until he heard two little clicks from the corner.

"God, they really have to stop catering these trainings to my quirk, pft. God, ice is slippery."

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, your feet seemed to be free of ice, and the floor where they had been stuck showed two irregular lumps of stiff concrete. How? He thought you manipulated metal? Were there metals in concrete?

"God, I really do love these glasses," you tapped them. "Make my life a lot easier, less scientific novels and what not." the voice you had was so casual, were you pretending to be shy this whole time? Or were you just a really good fake villain. He felt like you were a real villain, eyes perking up a bit at the idea of a challenge.

"Lets see, how many walls do you think I could drop on you before the building collapses? Two, maybe three? Or I could just tie you up, huh?"

He smirked, "Oh really, shy-girl? I'd like to see you try.."

His words shot through your act like a bullet, piercing you right in the heart. His voice should not be allowed to sound like that. It's unfair, cheating even. Your face changed from confident to wavering and hands began sweat. Could you really hurt him? You saw bakugou hurt midoriya earlier, he did it like second nature, but you wanted to be a hero, learn about villains and put them away, so you proceeded. This was your chance to show off your combat skills.

Zipping down the zipper on your chest, you remove the tiny holder for it, causing it to fall in your palm and begin to liquify. Your glasses told you the different metals in it, and that allowed you to focus on multiplying them, closing your eyes as the liquid began to grow.

Your partner was staring between the two of you, hoping whatever you were about to do was successful, since his feet really did hurt. Suddenly your finger began making a circular movement, the metallic liquid mimicking it. It flowed in a ring of silver around your middle body.

"Metal is a fun element, you know. It's easily found in almost every environment, easy to hide, and disobeys many scientific theories. Like this liquid metal here, it looks normal, but it only gets this way by becoming scorching hot." You winked at no one in particular and swung your finger down in a straight line, a mini-mimic of Iida's air chopping.

The hot fluid melted the concrete in a straight line on the floor, ice and ground in that area being dissolved completely. It felt good to use your power to win, you could tell from his eyes todoroki was scared. Maybe you were stronger than you thought?

Losing, however, was not what he was scared of. The wave of heat that fell over him after your swing sent him into terrible memories. His scar began to itch and burn at the recognition of heat. You saw that, too. How his fear held deeper meaning, and it made you scared of yourself. You didn't want to be a villain anymore, you just wanted this to be over, your eyes almost welled with tears at how mean you'd been, acting like the villain.

"I-um-ugh" Your foot stomped down on the floor, slipping a bit but forcing concrete to envelope the boy's feet, while simultaneously forcing the ground up and the temperature just hot enough to free your partner.

"J-Just, where's Shoji?"

"I'll get him, since you did the fighting here, l/n...." Ojiro stated, running out of the room, having been uncomfortable with the tension.

The next words to come out of your mouth should have been expected, but never had they meant so much to todoroki. His eyes were back to normal, face stone once again. Trying to pretend that fear he felt, those memories, were never there. Steel walls being put up once again to hide away hid feelings, but you manipulate metal.

Your e/c eyes shoot to look at the scar around his left eye and then back to his whole face. Taking a few steps closer to him, ignoring the teachers yell of how your team had won, you whispered.

"Im so sorry."

No one else would understand it, not the other students watching intently from the observation room, not your partners downstairs, but he did. Shoto heard those words, and felt your eyes lingering on it, and his chest got tight. You knew, and you didnt call it ugly, and you stopped using heat because you knew.

It was your job to be the villain at any cost, but you worked harder to not use heat. You weren't just sorry for scaring him, but for the fact that he had to be scared. So he spoke to you, for the first serious time, saying the only words that felt appropriate.

"Thank you."

[theninjawrites]

I ran out of room in the last ask like I predicted. Anyway, though! My second idea (which sadly there's like no fics on?!) is a trans spectrum character (so, like, Frisk who's nonbinary) who binds. I just really want to see some angst and hurt/comfort okay xD I'd love to see anything about Frisk binding for too long or something and just someone, like, Sans for example noticing them in pain and being like 'wtf u doin there kiddo' and yeah. I just need angst for the soul! Thank you! :D

Part 2: Oh, I don’t even know if you are completely aware of how binding works and stuff? If you aren’t, it’s fine. Thank you for at least considering my ideas though! Again, you don’t have to write them if you don’t want to! Ahhh though thank you for being great and at least considering them, Ninja! :D

The Ninja Responds

I’ll start this by saying I really don’t have much experience with binding outside of a little cosplay and theater but I do understand how uncomfortable they can be. I really liked this prompt and decided to give it my best shot! I am not non-binary but I hope that I am able to give an accurate representation of what it feels like to deal with the feeling of having a body that doesn’t represent who you are. I’ll put this under a readmore because it got a little long

Tick

Tick

Tick

Has the clock on the wall always been so loud? Each second that passes sends another annoying ping through their skull. 

“How can you be so calm about this Ms Dremurr!?” 

The parent’s voice, shrill and tight is worse than the clock. It’s just like her child Rosa’s voice. Loud. Painful. 

“You don’t need to get angry about this.” Their mom’s voice, usually so soothing doesn’t help to ease the pounding in their head. 

The voices of their mom and Rosa’s mother arguing over who is at fault for the broken nose caused on the playground. The squeaking of the small chair Sans has tilted back too far. Rosa sniffing past the blood still trickling from her nose. The endless ticking of the clock.

It’s all too loud, there’s too much noise. 

They can’t breathe. 

Frisk stands slowly. Toriel’s gaze instantly goes to them, her eyes softening. “What’s wrong my child?” 

Fortunately, keeping a straight face is something they long ago mastered. “I need to use the bathroom,” they said as evenly as they can. “May I?” 

Toriel hesitates and that’s just enough time for Rosa’s mother eyes to flash with rage. 

“You are not going anywhere until we settle this!” 

That, of course, doesn’t fly with their mom. Toriel turns back to the sour faced woman and Frisk doesn’t miss the single spark that lifts between her fingers. “You will not speak to my child like that!” 

Frisk doesn’t stay to hear the rest. They escape out into the school hallway but the relief from the noise does nothing to ease the sharp pains in their ribs. They look up and down the empty hall as they unsteadily walk towards the drinking fountains. Their hands grip at the binder under their shirt, pulling at it slightly in a futile attempt to ease some of the pressure. 

Of course, it can’t really be called a binder, now can it? It’s just two cheap sports bras, two sizes too small and bandages that they wrapped around their chest in addition to it. They know that’s not the right way to do it, they know better but…

They’re growing up. And with that, the ease of hiding what they are, what they should be but don’t want to be is getting harder and harder! How are they supposed to bring this up? The fight to stay with their mom has been hard enough. If the people at child services knew that they don’t want to be female at all they would use that as an excuse to take them away from their home and their family. 

So they’ll deal with it themselves. They’ll deal with finding ways to flatten their growing chest themselves, they’ll deal with the pain in their ribs and the shortness of breath and everything else. They’ve made it this far. They just have to endure it until they can find a better answer.

There’s a darkened classroom next to the fountains. Frisk can see their reflection in the glass. The person…the freak in the glass looks utterly miserable. Not a girl, not a boy and not a monster. Not the kind of monster that they wish they could be instead of this…whatever they are. 

Another sharp stab of pain makes their breath hitch. Slowly, Frisk takes the edge of their shirt in their fingers and lifts it up just enough to see the edges of the rash extending down from the make-shift binder. It burns but it’s not enough to drown out the ever growing sensation their their chest is splintering apart after wearing the binder for so long-

“kiddo?” 

Frisk jumps, their shirt dropping from their hand.

Sans’ ever present grin might convince others that he’s not tense with worry but it doesn’t fool Frisk. “pretty sure the bathrooms are the other way. what’s going on?” 

Frisk looks away. “I just…needed to get some air,” they mumble. “It was noisy in there.” 

“yeah, debra’s voice is worse than her lemon bars and that’s saying something.” 

“…Why are you here Sans?” 

Sans shrugs, leaning against the wall. “i haven’t seen tori this mad at someone since undyne burned that hole in the her kitchen. couldn’t miss that, could i?”

Frisk just grunts noncommittally. 

Sans lets himself slide to the ground, his pink slippers easily slipping against the tile of the hallway. He leans his head back, closing his sockets as he pats the spot next to him. After a moment, Frisk joins him on the floor. Their head spins a little with the motion and a quiet groan escapes their lips.

The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes. Frisk’s quiet wheezing is the only sound and in the empty hallway, it seems to echo back twice as loudly. 

“so, you wanna tell me the real reason you punched that brat in the face?” 

Frisk pulls their knees up. “I already told you guys why: she was picking on Dogamy and Dogaressa’s new pups.” 

“’s not a good idea to lie to a judge kiddo.” His tone is still light but now Frisk can feel his gaze burning intently into them. “you’ve handled plenty of fights between the monster kids and human kids here before. what made this one different?”

“It was….” Frisk’s voices trails off.

“does it have anything to do with that rash and why you sound like a dying car engine?” 

Frisk flinches. “You really gotta stop sneaking up on people Sans, it’s not nice.”

Sans taps his fingers against the tile. They make a quiet clinking sound. “kiddo. you’re making your mom worry.” 

At that, Frisk feels a wave of emotion rise up in their throat. They grip the edge of their jeans and stare at their knees. “I’m getting older Sans,” they whisper. “And…I don’t want to.” 

“why?” 

“Because getting older means things will change and….” Their breath catches and the first of the tears building in their eyes spills out. “She called me a sheboy freak and I, I just…” They wipe at their face. 

She was right. That’s why they snapped. Frisk knows they’re a freak, they shouldn’t be like this. Male or Female. Woman or Man. Humans are supposed to be one or the other. 

“I’ve been trying to hide it,” they continue, unable to stop. “I don’t want to be seen as a girl and the only way to do that is to hide these stupid lumps of fat growing on my chest but it hurts so much! It hurts and I can’t breathe but I have to deal with it because if I say something I might be taken away again-!” 

“easy kiddo,” Sans says softly, gingerly placing a hand on their head. He lets them lean against his bony shoulder, padded slightly by his thick jacket. “you’re having a hard enough time breathing, just calm down a little, ok?” 

Frisk nods, wheezing as they fight to get their breath back. Sans hesitates for a moment before rubbing their head gently. The cool texture of his bones through their hair feels nice and it helps them to calm down a little. 

“look,” Sans says eventually, his voice gentle. “there’s a lot that’s weird about you humans. especially the restricted view on genders and all that stuff. but you are you, no matter what the snobby brat of a lemon bar baker or anyone else says. you’re frisk and growing up isn’t gonna change that. but hurting yourself and keeping quiet about this isn’t ok. we’re monsters but me and tori, we’re here for ya. so is everyone else.” 

“But…kids get taken away for stuff like this,” Frisk whispers. “What if child services thinks I’m messed up and-” 

“Then we’ll just fight that much harder to keep ya,” Sans says firmly. “tori’s scary when she’s fighting to keep hold of something she loves. you know that better than anyone yeah?” 

Frisk can’t help but snort at that. They do know, probably better than anyone. They sit up, wiping away the remains of their tears. “Thank you Sans,” they say with a wobbly smile. 

“hey, any time kiddo.” Sans’ easy smile is back on his face. “when tori’s done grilling mrs lemon bars, you should talk to her about this. if you don’t like what’s changing there’s got to be a better way to hide it than doing whatever it is that’s putting you through so much pain. you’re worth more than that.” 

Frisk leans over and gives the skeleton a tight hug. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Thank you for reminding me.”