#i'm sarah's age take me away soldier

[starfact0ry]

Tried my hand in drawing Kyle Reese (played by Michael Biehn) from the Terminator 1984.

[romanarose]

Wreckage

Joel Miller

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Summary: Joel and Tommy go back to Joel's home the morning after outbreak day and comb through the wreckage of their life.

Warnings: I'll be clear, Joel attempts suicide. Major, major, major trigger warning. Joel's extreme grief, guilt as a parent, just sadness. Endless slightly hopeful, a hint that he will find healing. But it's mostly wump. PLEASE head the warning, i cried writing this.

Based on Wreckage by Pearl Jam. I heard it and immidiatly thought of Joel and Tommy, pleeeeeease listen.

Visited by thought, another darkened day

How you're like the sun, hiding somewhere beyond the rain

I'm needing for the light, stormy is the grey

Rivers overflowing, drowning all our yesterdays

It was over. His life was over. Sarah, his baby daughter, his sweet teenager who was his reason for getting to the end of every hard day, his smart, talented, matured-to-early-because-he-couldn’t-give-her-what-she-needed daughter died in his arms hours ago. Minutes later, him and Tommy were arrested, torn away from where he held her, Sarah’s young body limp in his arms. Joel screamed as the soldiers tried to take him, wanting him to walk away from her when he wanted to lay down and waste away in the field with him. Tommy tried to calm him down but eventually the soldiers took them both away. They were released not too long later, sent back to their little town to gather up their things and move into some quarantine area. Wanting to avoid it, they went to Tommy’s first, grabbing his identification and what he could fit into a bag. Tommy lived in a studio, a messy bachelor pad… Joel had to look through a whole life lived in that house. They stood at the front door, bodies of their neighbors having been cleaned up already. Tommy put his hand on Joel’s back. 

“Are you ready, brother?”

Joel shrugged Tommy off. “No.” He opened the door.

Visited by thoughts on another darkened week

How even every winner hits a losing streak

The mistakes we all make and perfectly repeat

Chains are made by DNA refusing

Refusing to release

Everything was her.

Her soccer shoes on the floor he yelled at her to pick up that day.

The countertop she sat on as a toddler as he cooked breakfast for her on a Sunday that Tommy inevitably would come over and eat. Joel always made extra just incase.

The staircase they had their first major fight when she was 11. She came home late and after years of fairly lax parenting for a mature little girl, he laid down the law. She screamed that he was never around anyway, so why did it matter? Joel wanted to tell her it mattered because he was worried, that he spent the last hour calling every parent he knew, Tommy driving around town after dark because they didn’t know where she was. Instead, he got defensive and raised his voice.

The couch. Every late night movie they fell asleep watching, every time he woke up and she was dozed off on his chest or the arm of the chair. Every night he scooped her up and carried her to bed. Nights she faked being asleep so he’d do it. Feeling her growing up in her arms and feeling his age in his knees but never letting that stop him from picking her carrying her up the stairs, even in her teens. He would have done it last night. Instead he carried her past burning buildings and people killing each other as he and Tommy tried in vain to save her.

Combing through the wreckage, pouring through the sand

Surrounded by the remnants, what we could and couldn't have

Raking through the ashes, falling through my hands

Charcoal on the faces in the burned up photographs

“Whaddya need?” Tommy asked, the question two fold. They were being moved, shuffled to some containment area to be assessed for illness and then… who knows. Joel and Tommy would need clothes for a few days, they were told. But Tommy was also asking Joel, ‘How can I help you?’ But he couldn’t. Not really.

“Some bags in the cupboard.” He answered, looking at Sarah’s 100% paper he hung up on the fridge. Tommy grabbed them, waiting on Joel. They didn't have luggage, he didn’t travel enough for it. Well, Sarah had one, but he didn’t feel like taking a Spongebob suitcase. He had a backpack upstairs where he’d put his clothes in. “Food. Get canned shit.” They had enough of it. Joel was always feeding Sarah chef boyardee and campbells soups, like the lazy parent he was. Why didn’t he take the time to cook her real food? He was always so tired… too tired to take care of his only kid? She was in soccer, she was growing, she was in puberty, why couldn’t he be what she needed? WHy did he have to fail her, again and again and again and…

“M’ going upstairs…” 

Tommy said something, but Joel’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t face his daughter's bedroom… Joel closed his eyes as he walked past. Backpack was in his closet, he would just grab it, shove some basics in there, and get the hell out. When Joel opened his closet door, his backpack was there… And so was the gun he had up top for emergencies.

Oh, visited by thought and this I got to say

If you're feeling the leaving, I can't make you stay

I've only ever wanted for it not to be this way

But you're now like the water

And the water will find its way

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. Joel was baptist, he was raised think suicide meant he was going to hell, but what was this world without Sarah? For 13 years, Joel poured everything he had into raising her and it wasn’t enough. He was never home, she said as much in the card she gave him for his birthday. He didn’t feed her right, he didn’t spend enough time with her, every single one of her accomplishments from soccer to her grades was all her. 

The gun was enticing,  up there for him, hidden in a lock box after Sarah got sent home with a pamphlet on gun safety after Columbine. Maybe he should just take it, just incase there was trouble… No, that was stupid. If the government was rounding up civilians, they weren’t going to let him walk in with a gun, everything would be searched. And one guy with a gun wasn’t going to be a match for 100 guys with guns. Joel would probably end up getting Tommy shot too, failing everyone he loved. 

Still, Joel got the keys and opened the lock box.

Combing through the wreckage

Holding out, holding on

Combing through the wreckage

Combing through the wreckage

“Joel, you wanna take a picture or something?” Tommy calls upstairs, startling Joel as he looked at the gun. He barked a no. Joel didn’t need a reminder every day of how he failed Sarah, how his one fucking job was to keep her alive and he couldn’t do that. He was a failure, and without Sarah there was no point.

There was no point.

Oh, visited by thoughts and not just in the night

That I no longer give a fuck who is wrong and who's right

This game of winner takes all and all means nothing left

Spoils go the victor and the other left for dead

Joel took the gun to Sarah’s room. If his home hurt, the pain he felt in here was unbearable. Purple was everywhere, her favorite color. Her bed was unmade, because it never was. He traced fingers over the pictures on her walls, her with her friend, with im, with Tommy. He looked around the room. She was everywhere and nowhere. Tears burned in his eyes, and he didn’t hesitate to let them fall again. Half done homework. When would this have been due? He didn’t know because he didn’t ask. A hair bonnet on the bed stand with some vampire book. The cover looked suggestive, was she old enough to be reading it? Joel knew so little, he was realizing. Did he know too little? It didn’t matter now. All those failures collided into that moment one last night, the moment he lived over and over again. The moment that would be his last thought.  

Combing through the wreckage

Holding out, holding on

Combing through the wreckage

He was taught to believe suicide meant going to hell, but Joel couldn’t fathom that. If there was a God out there, and Joel believed there was, Joel would pay his dues in purgatory and then go on to heaven. If there wasn’t a God, he would just be at peace. 

Either was better than this world without Sarah

Combing through the wreckage

Joel laid down on her bed, smelling her hair products on the silk pillow. 

He raised the gun to his head.

“I’m coming, baby girl.”

Holding out, holding on

Holding out

Holding in

Holding on

Combing through the wreckage

“Joel?”

He flinched. It was a flash of a thought at he pulled the trigger. Tommy. 

The gun went off, grazing his head.

Holding on (combing through the wreckage)

Holding on, oh (combing through the wreckage)

Holding on (combing through the wreckage)

It was unbearable.

When the gun went up, Tommy screamed Joel’s name, running upstairs to find his big brother bleeding out on his niece's bed, and there must have been a moment when Tommy thought Joel was dead.

The pain in his head wasn’t what hurt so bad, it was the pain of Tommy seeing him like this, of being so vulnerable, of having to have the person he should be protecting worrying about him. It was the pain of Sarah’s death. It was the pain of every failure that mounted in his house.

Joel began to scream. He wasn’t sure when it started or when it stopped, but as Tommy sat on the bed and pulled Joel into his arms he screamed.

Falling through the wreckage

“I need you, Joel!” Tommy shouted, frantic as he held gauze to Joel’s head. “You don’t get to leave me! You don’t get to do this!” Tommy was crying too.

But he was right.

Crawling through the wreckage

He had to take care of Tommy. Tommy had to live. Joel had always watched out for his brother, raised him, protected him, made sure he was fed when their dad was passed out drunk and their mom was out late with ‘friends’. Joel had to keep him alive. He failed Sarah, he couldn’t fail Tommy too. 

Joel would lock everything away. He’d push away it all, he’d shove down every feeling about Sarah. He didn’t want a picture, wasn’t going to think of her every day when he had to focus on Tommy.

He looked down at his wrist. When he went to go unlatch it, leave it in the house… but he couldn’t. In that moment, removing the watch would be like removing her again. He decided to keep it. A watch was useful, right?

One reminder. A reminder of what he lost so he remembered to do better for Tommy.

Everywhere, and nowhere at all.

Combing through the wreckage

As they stepped out of the house, the cul de sac seemed far too bright and sunny for the occasion. Too nice. Too happy. But it didn’t matter, Joel reminded himself. He looked at his brother, the younger man’s face seeming aged 10 years in one night. Joel found a new sense of hope.

He’d live for Tommy, he’d keep his family alive. Save who he can.

It didn’t matter what Joel had to do to do it.

*************

Thank you so, so, so much for reading and giving this a chance even though it's not a x reader. I appriciate each and every bit of love you all give.

2 more Joel WIPS to clear out before i excit this fandom

I hope yall give the song a listen, i cried listening to it while writing.

tagging those who might like but dont feel presured!!! i know it cn be triggering

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @miraclesabound @jennaispunk

[cheynovak]

Family business: Part 2   

Billy Butcher & Sarah Butcher x Soldier boy  

Warnings:  Age difference, cursing, violence, ... it's the boys... what not  

Side note: English isn’t my first language.   

Didn't proof read, i'm sorry for any mistakes

*Does not follow The Boys storyline *  

It took a while I'm soooo sorry! But here is part 2  

-- 

Recap: Sarah is Billy Butcher’s daughter from a previous relationship. He did not raise her. Years later Billy’s and Sarah’s paths cross when they search for the weapon that killed Soldier boy only to find the supe himself, who seems to have an special interest in Sarah. After a night together she is pregnant.  

Dealing with this situation and Soldier boy being locked away again she gets a call from Homelander.  

-- 

New York City, where towering skyscrapers cast long shadows over the streets below, Sarah stood at the edge of a rooftop, her gaze fixed on the bustling cityscape. Contemplating about all that happened over the last few months.  

A huge fight with Billy made her decided to take the offer of Homelander. A safe place for her and the kid. “Since we’re practically family.” He had said. She knew better than to trust him. But Billy had his own demons to fight.  

Billy... she had inherited his stubbornness and sharp tongue, traits that often led to heated arguments between father and daughter. The last one gave her a final push to take off and move into the Vought tower. 

As Sarah leaned against the edge of the rooftop, lost in her thoughts, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her chest. Her mind drifted to the child growing inside her, a constant reminder to watch her back.  

Weeks turned into months, and Sarah found herself settling into her new life at Vought Tower. Homelander had been surprisingly accommodating, providing her with everything she needed to ensure her comfort during her pregnancy. 

But behind the facade of kindness, Sarah sensed something wrong. There was a coldness in Homelander's eyes whenever they crossed paths, a distance that seemed to grow with each passing day. 

As her due date drew nearer, Sarah couldn't help but feel a sense of loneliness creeping in. Despite being surrounded by luxury, she longed for the warmth of family, for someone to share in her joy and fears. God she missed her mom.  

Tonight, Sarah gathered all her courage to confront Homelander. The air in the room crackled with tension as they stood face to face with him. “John," Sarah's voice was firm, though tinged with desperation, "You need to find Ben. My child needs his father." 

Homelander's gaze remained cold and unyielding, his expression betraying none of the turmoil that Sarah felt churning inside her. "And why should I do that? He tried to kill me." he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. 

Frustration boiled within Sarah as she struggled to contain her rising anger. "Because it's the right thing to do!" she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion.  

“He needs a father yes, I can be his father.” For a moment, there was silence as the weight of Sarah's words hung heavy in the air. Those words made Sarah’s blood boil and without a single thought to it she hit the side of his face. But before Homelander could respond, a sudden movement caught Sarah off guard.  

Ryan. 

With a swift motion, he pushed Sarah aside, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground, he stepped forward “Leave my dad alone," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Pain shot through Sarah as she hit the ground, Homelander came rushing down to her. “Are you ok?”  - “I’m fine” she said pulling her arm out of his grip. But as she walked back to her room. Sarah felt a sharp pain radiating through her abdomen. Panic rushed through her as she realized that there was something wrong.  

Frantically, she reached for her phone, but before she could dial for help, Homelander appeared. His expression was unreadable as he took in the scene before him. 

Without a word, he scooped Sarah into his arms and carried her to the medical wing of Vought Tower. As the hours passed, Sarah's pain intensified, but Homelander remained by her side, his presence a strange mixture of comfort and discomfort. 

Finally, the cries of a newborn filled the room, and Sarah's heart swelled with love as she held her son for the first time. But as she looked up at Homelander, she saw something flicker in his eyes, something she couldn't quite decipher. 

He wants my child, he wants his fucked up family no matter what. I need to keep him safe. Was all Sarah could think.  

As Sarah cradled her newborn son in her arms, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty, she knew there was only one person she could turn to for help: her father.  

"Sarah?" Billy's voice sounded gruff yet concerned as he answered the call. "What's the matter, lass? She sounds distressed." “Can we meet?” “  

“Where?”  

“The old bridge?”  

"I'm on my way, Sarah. Just hold tight," he assured her, his voice laced with determination. As Sarah hung up the phone, a sense of relief washed over her. Despite their differences, she knew that her father would do whatever it took to protect her and her son. 

Minutes felt like hours as Sarah anxiously waited for her father's arrival. With each passing moment, her fear grew, Sarah's heart leaped with relief as she saw her father striding towards her, his expression fierce yet determined. 

Sarah's eyes filled with tears as she recounted the events that had transpired at Vought Tower, her voice shaking with emotion. She told her father about the confrontation with Homelander, the fear for her son's safety.  

Billy's fists clenched with anger as he listened to his daughter's story, the flames of his hatred for Supes burning brighter than ever. "We'll figure this out, Sarah," Billy said, his voice firm yet comforting as he pulled her into a tight embrace. 

“We need to get out of there Billy.” She said leaning in against his jacket. “I have no idea how, but we need to.” “Hang on just a little longer, luv. We’ll come up with something.”  

Then it hit her, “Ben...” she whispered, “What about him?” Billy pulled away to look at her. "He is our ticket to safety.” Bily shook his head. “No way, he is dangerous luv.”  

“No, he would want his son to be safe... He would want me safe, I know it.” “Homelander is his son too. He won’t choose.” Her eyes teared up.” Billy, please.” A single tear left her eyes. “I never asked for anything, please.” Despite Billy's past with him he was willing to look for him.  

Sarah did everything in her power to help search for him. But as weeks passed Homelander became more and more invested in Sarah and the child. “Decided on a name yet?” he asked her as he looked over the new born. “No.” was all she answered watching him closely.  

Meanwhile, Billy Butcher prowled the streets of New York, his rugged features etched with determination as he searched tirelessly for Soldier Boy. Billy was a force to be reckoned with, fuelled by vengeance and a burning desire to protect his daughter and grandson.  

Back in the confines of Vought Tower, Sarah's nerves were fraying with each passing moment. She knew she couldn't rely on rescue from the outside; her fate and that of her newborn rested solely on her own shoulders.  

She decided to search the Vought basements to find something to defend her and her baby boy. As she roamed the labyrinth underneath the tower she stumbled on to a box like she saw in Russia.  

Could it be?  

As she wanted to approach, she heard the doors opening, deciding to hide in the room a crossed the hall. Sarah noticed how Homelander walked in the room she just wanted to explore.  

“I really don’t understand why she so desperately needs you.” He said to himself “I mean, I could be as good as a father as you.” And then it hit her. He wasn’t talking to himself.  

“You will never see that child, you betrayed me like all of them. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.” As Homelander walked away all Sarah could hope is that he didn’t saw her in the other room.  

She waited an extra minute before walking back to the box. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Ben. Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. She whispered while trying to open it.  

“Shit!” For some reason she couldn’t open the small vault he was in. “I can’t leave you here.” She thought for a second. ”Ben?” Sarah started “Can you hear me?” a small pause. “I don’t know if this would work, but... our baby boy is born.” 

“A little early but he is strong and healthy.”  

“I’m waiting on you to name him. You should see him Ben, he is so vibrant and beautiful. He sleeps really well, I guess he has that from is dad.” Sarah’s eyes started to tear up. “Please Ben fight. If not for me for your son.” Her hand placed on the box.  

Ben’s eyelids seemed to move slightly, but Sarah had no idea if it was her imagination or if he was trying to talk to her. “I’ll be back here. I promise I won’t leave you alone. I’m coming back, ok?”  

Another few days passed.  

Sarah tried to visit Ben as much as possible, hoping he could hear everything she said to him. She mostly talked about their son. “I was thinking, after all this we could move to the countryside? You me and the kid.” She tapped the box softly before kissing the glass softly.  

“Where did you go.” The familiar cold voice said while she got out of the elevator. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. “Jeez Homelander, don’t sneak up on me like that.” She tried to sound as normal as possible.  

“I took a walk.” -” Alone?” he asked. “Uhu.” Sarah walked back to her room. “Where did you go?” Homelander followed close. “The eh, park.” - “Interesting, I would have sworn hearing you in the basement talking to Soldier Boy.  

Sarah’s feet stopped within the second, frozen to the floor. She wanted to explain everything, or at least made up a make-believe lie. But before she could say another word Homelander shoved her to the wall. His hands firm on her throat. 

“You made a foolish mistake Sarah. I gave you the chance to have a family. I told you we could be a family. But know you chose to let your kid to grow up without a mother.”  

Her eyes grew wide although she couldn’t respond. Homelander dropped her to the floor again. “I’m giving you one last chance Sarah...” But before he could finish that sentence, she kicked him in the balls as hard as she could and ran back to the elevator.  

Thank God she had practise with kick at least he was distracted for a moment. Just long enough for her to reach and close the elevator. Going down back to Ben. In full panic searching for something to break the glass. All she found was pinchers.  

Trying to cut the gas tube on Ben’s box. The gas stopped floating to his box, straight into the air. Making Sarah dizzy and faint next to the box on the floor. By the time she got by, she felt a pair of strong hand around her.  

Sarah looked up, seeing how Ben carried her out of the basement. “B-Ben?” -”Hi sweetheart. Try to stay awake, ok? You inhaled a lot of gas.” She tried to listen to his words but could only think of one thing before she black out again. “B-Ben.” she repeated.  

“Our son. Please...” her head fell back against his shoulder.  

-- 

“I don’t fucking care what you think! He is my fucking son and I’ll bust him out even if it’s the last thing I do.” Sarah heard Ben’s angry voice in a far distance. She tried to open her eyes, scanning the era.  

She was in an unfamiliar bedroom. Seeing how Ben and Billy were talking, or better yet, screaming outside. Annie walked in. “Oh, good you’re awake.” She smiled soft. “I brought you some food.”  

“What happened?” Sarah asked her. “You inhaled a lot of gas while saving Soldier Boy. You’ve been in and out of coma of the past five days.” She said in a soft voice. “F-five days?” Sarah felt the panic in her chest pressing down on her. 

“Oh god... Oh god...” - “hey, hey calm down. You need to calm down Sarah. BUTCHER!” She yelled trying to hold her back without hurting her.  

As Billy and Ben walked in her eyes flew straight to Ben. “Where is he?” He kneeled in front of her. “Sarah” Her sight blurred with tears. “T-tell me you got him out Ben...” She could see how his lips twitched trying to hold back his emotions.  

“TELL ME YOU GOT MY BABY!” Sarah’s anger and pain distracted her from thinking straight. Her fists hit his rock hard chest over and over. “I asked you! I begged you! GO fucking find him you piece of shit! Find my boy!”  

“Hey, hey, hey, Shh... look at me.” Ben at first let you release your anger at him before he tried to hold you down. “Look at me. I’ll find him Sarah I promise!” His large hand wrapped around her head pushing her close to him.  

Butcher saw how he held her in his arms. The embrace seemed to cool her down as they both sat on the floor. Ben whispering promises to her which she felt she didn’t needed.  

-- 

Sarah stood outside, in the garden of this lovely house surrounded by meadows. Without looking back, she could hear Ben’s footsteps. “Why?” She asked him still to giving him a look. “Why didn’t you go after him?”  

“I had to choose. You were already in my arms. I brought you out to fresh air and luckily I did or you would be dead. You spend almost an entire week in and out of a fucking coma.  

Sarah felt the tears in her eyes sting again.  

“I went back, you got to believe me. “His hands moved to her shoulders, he could feel how the tensed up, almost flinching at his touch, but not moving. “But he was gone and so was the baby. I burned that place down. As I will burn every fucking place, house or even store that he was in.” 

“Sarah?” Ben whispered trying to get her attention. “You should have saved him, then this wouldn’t happened.” “No but you would be dead.” Sarah turned to Ben and looked him dead in the eye. “Consider me dead if you don’t find him.” And walked back inside.  

--  

Finally, after some stone-cold days in the house Billy found a lead.  

To her surprise Billy didn’t want Sarah to come. “Are you out of your mind? He is my son Butcher! I’m the best human asset you have!” - “And that Luv is why you are staying home, you lose sight of the bigger picture, you lose your mind when it’s about him.”  

“No, the boys, myself and Ben. That’s it, end of fucking discussion.” Sarah looked at Ben who seemed to agree. “Since when do you two get along?!” she bit before turning her back to them.  

Minutes turned into hours. Annie volunteered to stay with her, in case the fight would come to them and moral support. She watched as Sarah walked nervous back and forward.  

Until... they hear the car doors slam. Sarah locked eyes with Annie. The women ran outside. “Where is he? Where are they?” Sarah asked in a whisper. seeing how they were all covered in blood and dust, Billy tapped her shoulder as the boys walk inside. “They’re in the car, bonding.” He kissed her head and left her alone.  

With small steps she approached the car, afraid? Nervous? Excited? She had no idea what the mixture of emotions was she felt. As she almost got to the car the back door opened. Ben got out holding their boy.  

Sarah could hold back her tears, seeing how their baby looked even smaller in his arms. “He is ok.” Ben reinsured. Sarah’s hand moved over his little head, her heart broke when she notice he already grew a little.  

“Thank you.” she said looking at their baby, but Ben knew it was for him. After a second Sarah’s eyes met his, she stood on her toes, holding her hand on his shoulder to close the space between their lips.  

A soft touch of their lips, a token of gratitude, an electric shock wave through their veins once their lips felt each other's. Sarah looking inside the car, noticing Ryan sitting in silence.  

“Hey buddy.” Sarah spoke in a sweeter than honey voice. “He helped us.” Ben said. “He is the reason we succeeded. I promised he could stay with us.” Sarah looked back at Ben. “Yes, yes of course.”  

"He took care of our boy while I fought Homelander. The kid is good." Ben said still not sure what Sarah thought of the situation. "Ryan, you are more than welcome to stay with us, you're save here." Sarah said.

-- -- --  

Sarah was feeding their baby boy on the porch of their house. Watching how Ryan and Ben are throwing the football. Billy walked over to his daughter "So, have you two came up with a name yet?"

Sarah smiled softy, “yes actually we did.” Ben walked closer, as Ryan hugged Billy. “Do you want to tell him?” She asked Ben. “It was your idea.” With his hand on her shoulder, she turns to her dad.  

“William Butcher, Grandad,” she started “Meet your grandson...” while handing him to Billy. 

“Lenny.”  

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

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Taglist: @yvonneeeee

[abarbaricyalp]

🃏 - Are you joking right now? For the SamBucky ask.

🃏 - Are you joking right now? I feel like this is a phrase that gets passed around between them quite often

There was a book that Sam read to the boys that made them screech with laughter, even as Cass got older and AJ got more discerning. It was about a maid who took things literally (which would be a joke in the book where she stole items away). Even Bucky found it amusing when the author managed to find a turn of phrase he hadn't thought of. Also, he just liked the sound of Sam reading with an exaggerated posh accent and feigned shock.

In reality, Bucky liked literal people a whole lot less, especially when it was some wizard who was such a caricature that it almost had to be on purpose. He even said bippity-boppity.

Bippity-boppity fame, let's play a game. What's in a name? Bippity-boppity lame.

Whatever the hell that meant. That wasn't even a spell. Still, all that glowy-magic-shit had swooshed around the air and all of a sudden, nothing was as it seemed. Where Bishop had just been standing, there was a hawk with robotic eyes. A disgustingly large spider had appeared where he'd last seen Belova, and Khan had turned into...a mini galaxy?

What the fuck?

Bucky did a quick scan of himself and was thrilled to find he was still apparently human. It wasn't until he tried to take a step and nearly face planted in the ground that he realized his feet had become frozen to the ground. And when he threw his hands up to brace his fall, ice and snow shot from his palms.

"Sam!" he called out, breath fogging in front of his face. "What the hell are we dealing with?"

Bucky wasn't sure why he was surprised to hear the rustling of feathers. He turned on his heel, breaking more ice in the process, and looked at Sam, who had been right on his six just a handful of seconds ago.

Now a giant bird stood there, shaking out wings and puffing a chest, all of which were colored like his Cap uniform, blues and reds and whites that still cut an impressive figure on a bird's body. A bright star of feathers expanded and contracted as he breathed.

"Oh, you have got to be joking," Bucky breathed. At least he wasn't an eagle, Bucky supposed.

"Fix them!" he called up to the wizard. "I'm not dealing with this bullshit!"

"Winter Soldier, what to do, what to do? You're in charge. That's new," the wizard called back, voice echoing around the cavern they were in. Because of course the ridiculous wizard had a cavern. "Are you sure? Are you going to shoot the cure?" he asked, appearing in front of Bucky long enough for Bucky to swing out, disappearing before Bucky could make contact. A slab of ice fell to the floor and shattered.

Bucky half growled, half shouted. He shook ice from his feet again and bounced on his toes to keep more form forming. When Belova started to move--on too many legs--he held up a hand to her. "Don't even think about it. You stay way over there."

She rolled eight eyes at him, but didn't move closer to him.

"I'm not in charge," he called. He swallowed his pride, squeezed his eyes shut. "You are. Tell me more."

The wizard appeared behind Sam and Bucky whirled around in time to watch Sam propel into the air. The gust of his wings was enough to knock Bucky out of rhythm with his hopping. "Who are they? Who are you? This will be a long day."

"You are so fucking annoying," Bucky snapped. He looked at Sam, who had settled on the ground again. "You're Sam Wilson," he told him. "Son of Paul and Darlene. Brother to Sarah. Uncle to Cass and AJ. You're Captain America. You're my partner, my best friend."

Birds didn't have eyebrows, but it seemed like Sam had raised an eyebrow at him. Nothing happened. Bucky shouted at the ceiling again.

"Yelena Belova. Sister to Natasha. A Black Widow, a savior of Widows. Kate Bishop, Hawkeye, Bishop takes King. Kamala Khan, Miss Marvel, Little Miss New Jersey, ray of cosmic light. Little Avengers. New Avengers. Brat Pack. New Age Heroes. An Annoyance of Heroes. What do you want from me?!"

"Time's up, wrong line up." the wizard said, appearing in front of Bucky to shove him backwards hard. Bucky went flying back, which he wasn't expecting. He hit the rock hard and let the air get knocked out of him. It cleared his head, felt like it realigned him.

"Bucky!" the stars that made up Khan shouted. Bucky didn't know she could do that.

He pushed himself back to his feet and heaved in a breath of freezing air. "Right. I'm Bucky Barnes," he said. "I'm not the one known for saving people, am I?" He touched the wall behind him and sent ice crawling over every surface.

The wizard fell from whatever perch he was on, then scrambled to find his footing. Bucky caught his legs in ice before he could. "If you wanted a fair fight, you should've left Sam in charge of negotiations." He stalked across the ice, hoping he didn't slip because that would put a dent on this whole picture. "Turned me into a snowman or something. Left him with the vocal cords." He put his left hand against the wizard's throat and held his right just over his mouth. "Fix them, or you're gonna lose your vocal cords instead. I won't even have to use ice for it. I'll save that for making sure you can't scream."

"Oh my God?" Bishop squawked. The hawk flew down beside him, hovering for a second before she perched on his shoulder.

"Oh my God, it was just a joke!" the wizard cried, trying to thrash away from Bucky's hold. He popped his knee in the process and let out a string of curse words that definitely didn't rhyme. The old man charade faded off of him, revealing a scrawny teenager, still pockmarked with acne. "Stop, stop, stop!" he cried.

Bishop came out of it first. At least, Bucky noticed it first, because there was suddenly an arm around his throat as she fell off of his shoulder and tried not to hit the ground. They hit the ground anyway.

The ice was gone and the wizard had scrambled away as soon as he could. Belova had crossed her arms over her chest, standing behind Khan by a few steps, pretending not to assess her status. It was kind of ridiculous how well her unimpressed expression had transferred to the spider, actually.

Khan's eyes were bright and she was practically vibrating with excitement. They were never hearing the end of this. Bucky kind of didn't mind the concept. He might've missed her voice when he thought he wouldn't get to hear it again.

"Okay, but can I keep the wings?" Sam asked.

Bucky untangled himself from Bishop so quickly he almost stepped on her hand in doing so. "Sam?" he asked, almost scared to approach.

Sam held out his arms to prove he had them again. If they were alone, it might've acted like a magnet that sprang Bucky up against him. However, they weren't alone. Everyone turned to face the wizard, who was spitting new curses and scrambling to free himself from where Belova had ahold of his wizard's clock collar.

"What was the answer?" Bishop asked. "He said our names. He knew us. We knew ourselves. Well, I knew me. He could've known me better. Really, a newspaper headline?" she asked Bucky over her shoulder.

"There was no answer," the wizard half exclaimed, half sneered. "I was just supposed to distract you."

"Distract us from what?" Belova asked and shook him. "Who are you working with?"

"I don't know!" the wizard defended. "They just gave me a magic relic to do it. I didn't ask questions."

"Uh, guys?" Khan said, from the entrance of the cave. "I think our jet is being stolen?"

Quad identical groans echoed through the cave.

"Come on," Sam called, jogging ahead of everyone. "I'll stall them. You get down as fast as you can."

He got to the edge of the cliff and spread his wings to take to the sky. Bucky watched bits of fabric and feathers flutter in the downdraft. He watched Sam's falcon wings catch the wind, send him a little off course before he corrected.

"Oh, you have seriously got to be fucking joking," he repeated, jogging after Sam. "Khan, restrain him and bring him with us. Can you make a bridge down to the ground? Belova, you go ahead. Bishop, you stay--"

Sam still had wings. Subtly, Bucky pointed his palm down at the ground. He probably was just imagining the tingling against his skin and the way his foot slipped on the rock. Probably.

[zyalahdoodles]

i would love to hear your companion rankings!

Okie dokey, I'm just gonna stick to Tens companions here just so I don't write a full dissertation (this is still going to be hella long).

So we have Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Martha Jones, Jack Harkness, Donna Noble and finally Wilfred Mott. So let's get to it;

Last Place: Rose Tyler. Now here me out, as a child I ADORED Rose. She could do no wrong in my eyes. I wanted to grow up to be her, and was absolutely devastated when she was trapped in Pete's world. HOWEVER now as a 28 year old, out of all of Ten's companions she is my least favourite. Why? Her possession over the Doctor just really rubs me the wrong way. Rose when she's with Nine is great (minus how she acts with Mickey in Boom Town) but as soon as the Doctor got 'hot' and she realised she was in love with him, suddenly he is hers and hers alone, and damn any other woman who even breathes in the Doctor's direction. And my justification for saying that she got possessive only after the Doctor got 'hot' is her reaction to his possible regeneration in season 4. Yelling "You can't!" to someone who is dying and therefore needs to regenerate to survive is a bit ew for me. Then there's the little things like her wanting to get her own way and knowing she can get away with it because she's Rose (S2 Ep5-6), her being mean to Sarah-Jane, violently yelling and shaking a possessed victim of abuse (Fear Her) ect. Her fashion still bangs though imo. I have her New Earth outfit, tooth and claw outfit and Season 4 outfit.

5th Place: Jack Harkness. Controversial opinion I know. I just don't vibe with Jack after season 1, I'm sorry. And in Season 3 he just doesn't really have a purpose after Utopia (unless I'm forgetting something important). I like the set up of him being pissed the Doctor ran away from him, but I don't feel like the pay off was as strong as it could have been. And in the Season 4 finale, I honestly forgot he was in that until just now, I remember everyone else, hell I remember Ianto and Gwen but Jack...Finding out he's the Face of Boe is great though, and in my opinion his character should have been retired then.

4th Place: Mickey Smith. WHAAT! Yeah I'm surprised too. Mickey probably has one of the best boyfriend to hero arcs out there (Rory wins that category though). Ten's Mickey is a friend, and less the butt of the joke. I love his progression in School Reunion, and when he finally gets the courage to ask to join the TARDIS crew. Surprisingly I don't mind his gloating towards Rose's jealousy, he's spent two seasons watching someone who is supposed to love him fawn after this alien and finally she is a little humbled, I dunno, I just don't take it as egregiously as others. Then his character finally becomes his own person in age of steel and he chooses to stay behind to help a world that doesn't have a Doctor but needs heroes. And once again in season 4 he makes the best decision for him to leave Rose and continue his own life after he sees the writing on the wall, and then he finds true partnership when he marries Martha.

3rd Place: Martha Jones. I personally want to apologise for every butt hurt response twelve year old me made when they revealed that Martha was Rose's successor. I was fully on the THEREISONLYONECOMPANIONANDITISROSSSEEEETRULUV4EVA!!!!!!! train at the time, but like with my opinion on Rose, the benefit of adulthood makes me see Martha completely different, and I love Martha Jones. She deserved the whole damn world, and still does. Martha is the friend I wish I had, her journey from wide eyed medical student to hardened soldier is beautifully devastating. All she wanted to do was help people, and in the end she saved the entire fricking world all on her own, with nothing but her determination, faith and words. Without Martha there would be no magical tinkerbell Doctor in the series 3 finale. Not to mention she single headedly supported the Doctor TWICE when they were trapped in the 1960's and 1910's respectively. I hate having to see Martha trapped with John Smith and the racist assholes of Human Nature and Family of Blood, but once again it just shows how strong and loving she is. Martha could have stayed in the TARDIS, she could have told the Doctor to get his own bloody job in Blink but she didn't, she chose to help him, and she will always choose to help those who need her (eg the Fish alien in the doctors daughter). Plus who doesn't love a red leather jacket.

2nd Place: Wilfred Mott. I sobbed when Bernard Cribbins passed, because of just how much I loved Wilf growing up. I wanted him to be my grandad so much. Wilf is kind, funny, loving and so so understanding, Donna is the luckiest woman in the world to have Wilf. Plus he's just so damn resilient, the man stayed in London during Christmas just because he wasn't going to bow down to those darn aliens. His joy and excitement for all things space and alien is so infectious and wholesome. Wilf is such a spectacular emotional supporter not just for Donna but for the Doctor too. Wilf has seen some shit and refuses to let it get to him, even in the Christmas and new years specials. Wilf is the personification of why the Doctor keeps saving the Earth and humanity, because yeah there are fucking assholes out there, but the world is worth saving if there is just one person like Wilf. Truly I think the only way to stop the Time Lord Victorious (aka temper tantrum ten) in The End of Time was to juxtapose him with Wilf.

FIRST PLACE: Donna Noble. Season 4 is a tragedy in slow motion because of how GOOD Donna's character arc and progression is. As a character who started off as a one of comedy guest star and blossomed into the most important human in all of creation, I can't even begin to describe how much I love Donna. She is the Doctor's heart and conscious. We've seen who 10 is without her, and he's even worse when he loses her. When Rose is trapped he refuses to break open the walls between universes even when Rose jokingly says "So?" but after the Doctor loses Donna, his true best friend? Less than 3 adventures later and the laws of time and space are HIS TO COMMAND!!!! He fucks with a fixed point in time because he's just lost too much. Donna was the final piece of the Tenth Doctors 'humanity' if you will. All of that and she's just fucking funny and clever (despite what she might think). She is the companion I'd most want to travel with, and I can't wait to see her, Wilf and 10 again.

[kylosgenesis]

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Chapter warnings : descriptions of death, abuse, blood, and mentions of miscarriage.

Chapter 2: Honey I tried

“When did it start?” Bucky was holding on to the edge of his kitchen table.He felt nauseated with the thought of her, sick and yearning, He couldn't even picture what she had grown up to look like, A part of him was scared of his own emotions.

“It hasn’t yet!”

“ At least not as of this morning.” her mother was breaking apart! Bucky could tell she was very scared and exhausted! He knew that her daughter's well being must've weighed heavily on her, he could see the physical manifestation of her pain. In just a few hours her nails had been bit to the core, and her tears streaks had left vivid and raw tracks around her cheeks.

“Buck! I know this is a lot to ask, but you have to tell Steve! Were worried she wouldn't make it otherwise. This will be her first heat”

He’d almost forgotten his mothers presence in the room, cause he turned around and met her eyes, tears streaming down her face. She'd grown fond of her friend's daughter over the years. After her own kids had left to form their own lives, she could still go to her and relive some memories of her little ones' younger days.

“I know! I'm still wrapping my head around it, but I know what I have to do” agitation surrounded his voice. He didn't know when his heart started to feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest or when he gripped the glass of water that was left on the table so hard it shattered, but it was evident that he wasn't going to be getting any rest that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky parked his pickup in front of Steve's house. It was the largest house in the village, it wasn't Steve's choice, but he'd inherited it from his father, and his father had inherited it from his father before him. Being the house farthest away from the city limits, but right in the middle of the village meant Steve was protected, but could also be easily accessed.

Looking back at his passenger seat he saw Winnifred with her mom cradled upon her shoulder, comforting her best friend through the probably the second hardest day of her life.

“You should stay here Ma, I'll go get Steve” I know he’ll be happy to see you, but I still don't know how he'll react to her'' He opened his tool box on the bed of his truck and pulled out a large fleece blanket. Neatly folded he handed it over to his mother.

“Just keep her company till I come back”

The lights in Steve's house were on, but Buck could hear the sound of wood being shopped and Steve's grunts coming from the back of the property. As he reached his best friend's view, he took a deep breath. It was all gonna be different now, for all of them.

Steve had a large pair of headphones in, and was clearly a few songs deep into his playlist because when Bucky came around the corner; Steve almost lost a hold of the axe he was holding! Lookin at Buck he lowered his bulky headphones and stabbed the axe to the soft moody ground next to the small uncut piece of wood he was about to turn into lumber.

Steve's hair was not as long as Bucky's, and he had taken a liking to a neatly kept beard.

He grew it out as a joke at first! Clint dared him to grow it for a month, and after a month he'd grown fond of the style.So for the past year now, Steve looked less like a young soldier, and more like those lumberjacks from the cheesy romance novel covers his sister Rebecca loved to read.

“Hey Buck, didn't expect you around so late” Steve combed his hair back with his fingers. A nervous habit Bucky had noticed since childhood, especially when he had a lot on his mind.

“Couldn't sleep?”

Bucky was concerned for his friend, momentarily forgetting the reason for his sudden visit.

“ Banner called! Wanda was there earlier today, she wasn't feeling well. Turns out she was pregnant, and didn't know it!

“Steves that's awesome, when is she due ? we need to celebra…” as he looked into his best friend's eyes he saw the pain behind his look.

“She was miscarrying at the same time she found out she was pregnant, Buck. That's the third pup we've lost this year.I don't know how we're gonna get through this, It's getting harder and harder to keep everyone safe, and pretend we're not gonna be extinct in 50 years”

“Steve…” Steve's gaze was filled with a mixture of tears and rage. He took everyone's pain personally. And hearing about Wanda had awoken an unease within his soul. He couldn't fight the problem! How could a man used to protecting and fighting, deal with a problem that didn't require a fight?

“There’s an omega! She presented this morning!

“Who is she?”

“Remember Katerina? She … uhh … after she was exiled from the pack, she had a daughter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 20 years ago

“We can't just let him die! We have to take him outside the walls! Someone out there can help him”

Joseph was the second in command to Benjamin Rogers. Two of the strongest alphas the entire western district had ever known. Both feared together, but explosive apart.

Benjamin had fathered a son 7 years earlier, a frail boy. He was often sickly and his future wasn’t promised! He wasn't meant to live much longer, the boy had once again woken up sick. A high fever overcoming his small body.

Benjamin had changed after his wife's death, he blamed the boy for Sarah’s death. A man that was once kind, and dedicated to his family, now lived like a wandering dark shadow inflicting cruelty against anyone that disagreed and crossed his path. His pack was strong! But there was no harmony, only fear.

Sarah had been a beautiful alpha as well as Benjamin. She had a hard time carrying Steve to term, at 7 months she fell bedridden and two weeks later, she had a seizure that compromised her pregnancy. Benjamin himself had to cut the boy out of his dying wife. That choice, as his wife laid there lifeless , covered in blood, and cut open like an animal awoke a demon in Benjamin. He saw death in his son's eyes, that is why he could never love him. He could never care!

Katerina took care of his young baby like her own, she had struggled to have a baby of her own so when Joseph came home holding a still bloody wailing baby, she fell madly in love with the small bundle in his arms.

The boy was small, but smart! He picked up words as young as a few months, and as a toddler he was incredibly gifted. Steve excelled in art, and even knees bit of music. Katerina loved to sit down and play piano! A young Steve would lean into her side and follow suit to her fingers on the side of the pano with his small hands. Joseph and Katerina watched him grow up, and took care of him.

Steve got sick often, but nothing too serious!

One day as she prepared breakfast she had a feeling of dread on the pit of her stomach, she ran upstairs to check on Steve and found him comatose on the bed!she wailed as she held her adopted infant son to her chest. Joseph came running to her after hearing her screams. He picked up the boy from her hands and loaded him into the car, with Katerina at his side he headed to Benjamin's house.

That was the first time Benjamin had seen his son since his wife died, his son himself nearly dead!

"Please Ben! He needs help! There's another pack two hours away, they have a doctor that can help him. She can heal him for good, please open up the walls so we can go to her! They both pleaded with Ben for hours, but to no avail!

The man was already covered in anger and reeking of alcohol, “Don't you dare challenge your alpha Joe! If I find out you defied me and left this territory you will never be allowed back”

Katerina couldn't let her boy die! With that warning in heart, she and her husband plotted to get little Stevie outside the pack territory, and to that doctor.

Behind Ben’s back, and knowing the consequences in his heart Joe called the Alpha from the neighboring pack, the other alpha had the resources ready for them to arrive in the morning. His doctor, a witch, was ready to give little Steve the life he deserved.

In the early morning of the night they sped their way through the woods. Once they reached the border a car awaited Rina, a beta from the fury pack was ready to take them to their pack.

Ben had closed the pack off to treaties when his wife died, he believed the world was dangerous and the pack was better off without interruptions, he couldn't even save his wife! His pack did not deserve to be mercied, they didn't deserve to live if she couldn't. So Ben slowly watched his pack become secluded and lost.

In the morning Ben, even drunker than the night before, had shown up at Joe's doorstep demanding to see the boy. Fully convinced he'd be dead by now, when Joe failed to produce an explanation as to why his wife was gone and so was Steve.

Ben lost it!

He called a pack meeting on which he publicly executed Joe, whether it was a display of power or just pure psychopathic joy. Joe’s death left the town broken, when Katerina came back with a healed Steve, she found herself widowed and exiled.

As a last sick jab into Joe’s heart even after his death, Ben took Steve!

As the years went by Steve forgot his early years, he forgot Joe and Katerina!

Steve remembered stories of his betrayal, her exile! How their actions forever changed a pack. He grew up kind, giving, and strong! Even if Steve didn't experience or know much love from his father, he was full of it!

And thanks to that witch both Katerina’s little growing heartbeat and Steve were stronger than ever!

Tags:

@austynparksandpizza @exposition-belongs-somewhere

[lesetoilesfous]

The smell of freshly baked bread + Zevran/Anders (I've never considered that ship before! I'm curious)

I’m so glad you requested this, thank you! I think they’re fun. I love to imagine both polyamorous scenarios with the Warden, and dirty weekends at The Pearl for thiese two...This one is pre-relationship, but I hope you like it!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting​

Pairing: ZevrAnders

Characters: Zevran, Anders

Tags: pre-relationship, allusion to past torture, allusion to past starvation, casual polyamory

Rating: Mature

There are very few things better than the smell of freshly baked bread. One of them is Talen: the specific blend of leather and wood polish he uses to work his bow, a smell that Zevran cannot taste without a bone deep sense of safety, even in the most outlandish of environs. Another is Antivan leather, the rich, stinking, choking scent of tanning, smoky and so heavy in the air that it feels like you can touch it. But freshly baked bread: to a man who had more than once flirted with starving to death, was a very special kind of paradise. 

So Zevran follows his nose, out of the main hall of the Vigil and down towards the kitchens and the scent of baking wheat, feeling his mouth water even after all these years, even now, when he always knew where his next meal would come from, and how to get it if he didn’t. Zevran walks past the soldiers of the Vigil in a daze: the only person who’d likely catch his attention at this point is Mahariel, and he’s working on training the recruits. 

(Recruit, singular, the Howe boy who Talen claims Zevran does not have the patience to deal with, yet. Zevran’s answer, that the boy would learn, had not been accepted by his all-too-patient lover. Yet despite his best efforts, Zevran could not resent him for it. After all, it was Mahariel’s generosity of spirit that had seen him not only survive a contract on a Grey Warden but find his freedom, and there were very few Crows who could say the same.) 

The soldiers and walls of the Vigil blur into a river of greys and browns as Zevran follows his nose to the kitchen, ears ringing when he’s close enough with the familiar percussive cacophony of rattling pans, slamming doors and sizzling roots. A pair of young mabari are crouched by the door to the kitchens, whining, and a skinny ginger tabby is perched on the wall above them, watching them warily. Zevran’s mouth lifts in a small smile as he regards them, before setting his hand on the iron handle to the door and pressing on the latch.

At the exact same moment, another hand touches his. 

Zevran reacts on instinct, pressing a dagger to what he had assumed was the height of an elvhen stomach and instead pushes into the too-thin meat of a skinny thigh. At the same time, the (very tall) figure beside him yelps, stumbling backwards - which in turn startles the mabari and the cat. The mabari start barking, great whooping yelps, and the cat disappears in a flash of red fur. Zevran glares at the human beside him as if that will save face for the utterly stupid lack of judgement that had let - what, a mage? Sneak up on him. Ice runs cold into Zevran’s stomach as he considers how firmly deceased he would have been if this man were anyone else, and the taste of freshly baked bread dissipates in his mouth.

The mage, for his part, with long blonde hair tied back from his face and a rickety wooden excuse for a staff, holds up two long crooked hands in an open gesture of surrender. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean, I didn’t see you -”

Attempting to collect himself, Zevran sheaths his knife. This man is no threat to him, judging by the way his long, skinny limbs are shaking. He forces an exhale, pushes a non-existent strand of hair out of his face, and tries to ignore the cold sweat on his back, painting on a smile. “No, it is I who should apologise. You... gave me a fright.”

The mage nods, and swallows, glancing between Zevran and the door to the kitchen. “The feeling’s mutual.” Slowly, he stands and brushes down his - skin tight suede - robes, before holding out a hand. “I’m Anders, by the way.”

Zevran takes his hand, and is surprised by how firm Anders’ grip is when he shakes. “Zevran. You are one of the recruits?”

Anders’ thin lips pull up at one corner, as if at some private joke. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that.” At Zevran’s questioning gaze, he clarifies. “I’m an apostate. And given a choice between a quick death and a slow one, I chose getting eaten by Darkspawn.” Anders’ lips twist, and his fingers flex as he lowers his hand.

Zevran very deliberately does not think about Talen, and what will happen when his Calling comes for him. The mage, Anders, puts his hand on the door handle, then seems to catch himself. “Oh, but I’m not dangerous. Like, I’m not a blood mage. I just.” He shrugs, an awkward movement of his too-thin, broad shoulders. “Don’t like being cooped up.” He offers Zevran another humourless smile. Then he opens the door with a faint click.

There’s a broad, fat woman inside the kitchens, and when she sees them she beams at Anders, her cheeks red with the heat that wafts out of the room in waves of sweet-smelling steam. “Anders! I should have known it was you causing such a commotion.”

Anders’ sharp shoulders drop as he makes eye contact with the woman, and he steps away from Zevran quickly, crossing the space to drop a kiss onto her cheek. “Sarah. Sorry about that, I, um -”

He glances back at Zevran, and she follows his gaze. Zevran gives them both a wave, and then a flourishing bow, because it amuses him. “Zevran Arainai, Antivan Crow.” He grins when both of them startle, “I am not here in a professional capacity.”

The mage, Anders, has moved to stand between Sarah and Zevran - which Zevran thinks is either brave or stupid, considering how awkwardly he holds himself, and how easy it would be to unbalance him. He frowns down at Zevran, “So why are you here?”

Zevran performs a gusty sigh, imitating an actress who’d once made him laugh in a Rivaini streetshow. “Perhaps you will know me better as the Warden’s paramour.”

Anders’ frown transmutes from suspicion into confusion. “Which warden?”

Zevran laughs, then, honestly, and catches the moment that Anders’ mouth quirks upward in a shadow of a smile when he does. “Aha, I had become so accustomed to there being just two in our travels during the Blight that I have neglected to remember his recent efforts. No, I mean the Warden. Talen Mahariel.”

Anders’ eyebrows hit his hairline at the same moment Sarah dips a hurried curtsy of stained brown skirts. “Oh my word, the commander’s paramour in my kitchen! Oh, everything is such a mess.”

Sarah immediately begins to busy herself with clearing surfaces, apparently at random. Anders looks caught between soothing her and keeping his eye on Zevran, so Zevran spares him the decision, stepping quickly forward and easily around the mage to catch her hands. They’re warm and soft in his, and Sarah stops immediately, eyes widening as she flushes. She, at least, is a more ordinary size, and only slightly taller than Zevran.

“Please, do not stand on ceremony for my sake. I admit I was only drawn here by the scent of fresh bread.” Sarah’s eyes, if possible, widen further, an effect exaggerated by the flour sticking to her cheeks. But then her expression softens, and she gently pulls her hands back.

“Well then! You should have said. Here, sit down. You too, Anders.” Sarah’s tone takes on a distinctly matronly quality when she speaks to the mage, though she can’t have had more than a decade and a half on him in age. Zevran supposes he’s known younger mothers.

Both of them sit at a rough wooden table on simple stools. Over their heads, sunlight spills like honey across the deep stone windowsill. Anders offers Zevran a tight smile, whilst Sarah ducks and opens a heavy iron door in the oven built into the wall. The smell of fresh bread intensifies, savoury sweet and warm on Zevran’s tongue. Sarah hums to herself tunelessly as she fishes out two iron plates from a cupboard, and slices the bread with a soft crunch.

She presents the plates and a clay dish of butter, as well as a tiny clay pot of rock salt, and puts her hands on her hips. Zevran stares at the steam rising in curls from the fresh bread and resists the urge to lick his lips. Sarah bumps Anders’ shoulder with her hips, and moves a hand to muss his hair. “You should have seen this one when he got here. Skinny as an alley cat and led by his nose just as easily.” Anders flushes, and opens his mouth to respond, but Sarah just claps his shoulder hard enough to make him buckle forward. “Go on you two, enjoy yourselves. I’ve got dinner to prepare for a small army.”

Then she turns and moves back to the kitchen, humming as she goes. Zevran pauses before touching his bread, glancing at Anders. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but the mage hunches his shoulders defensively, crooked hand frozen with his bread halfway to his mouth. This close Zevran can see that his fingers are littered with scars, and several of the knuckles are out of alignment. He is familiar with the treatment that elicits such effects, but he had not expected to see its marks on a mage. Perhaps Talen was right, and he based too much of what he knew of magic on cheap romances. Zevran had always assumed a mage would stop anyone before they could do such a thing.

“Withholding meals is Templar 101,” Anders mutters, glaring at Zevran defensively, “At least here I don’t get in trouble.”

Several things fall into place. Zevran picks up his bread: the crust is gold and thick, and warm to the touch. He butters it with a generous pat before sprinkling a little salt over the top. Anders watches him with poorly concealed curiosity. Zevran pretends not to notice. “Disciplinary starvation is not uncommon among the Crows.” Zevran offers Anders his first honest smile, and tries not to feel as if he exposing a vulnerable organ. “It seems we have this in common.”

Anders stares at him for a long moment, then, before eventually ducking his head and offering Zevran a hesitant smile in return. Satisfied, Zevran bites into his bread, and lets out a moan that he knows is pornographic. Sarah giggles, and Anders flushes pink across his cheeks, down his long neck and across what areas of his chest are exposed by those truly inviting robes.

Zevran hides his grin in his next bite. Well, Talen had a pet project with the Howe boy. Perhaps some amusement could come of knowing the mage better. It would, at the very least, be a pleasant enough way to pass the time.

[ruckystarnes]

AUTHOR: RuckyStarnes

WARNINGS:   None

CHARACTERS: Bucky Barnes, OFC - Hazel Hamilton

WORDS: 1,261

Unkept Promises Master List

One | Two | Three

Chapter Two

June 13, 1939

Hazel sat heavily into the hard chair in the small room used for breaks. She was doing her best to keep up with all the injuries that were flooding in the hospital in France. She's been there for just under four months, relocating from England once the war hit outside of Germany and French soldiers started to get injured.  She rested her head back, slumping in the chair, and closed her eyes trying to remember a happier time, but it never came.

"Infirmière Hamilton, Dr.  Benoit aimerait vous voir," a soft voice came from the door.

"Merci, Margaret," Hazel replied, letting out a sigh. She pushed up from the chair as stood up, smoothing out her white apron and checked to make sure her nurse cap was straight with her hand, smoothing out any of the flyaway hairs. She took a deep breath and walked towards the doctor's office. She wasn't in the mood to pull another shift, even though the patient/nurse ratio was overwhelming already, but if asked, she will agree.

Knocking on the heavy door, Hazel couldn't help but wonder why would the doctor would want to see her. She took care of post-op patients: changing bandages, distributing medication, making them comfortable as possible. She snapped out of her thoughts when a gruff, tired voice sounded.

"Entrez."

Hazel opened the door and saw the balding man sitting behind a simple desk wearing a white button down, black tie loosened and a glass of amber liquid in hand. "Vous vouliez me voir, docteur?" she asked, standing in front of the desk.

"Ah, Hamilton," his accent heavy as he spoke English, his smile sad. He gestured to the chair to her right, which she sat in slowly, her eyes fixed on the middle-aged man. "We've received a telegram from America telling us news of your aunt."

Hazel looked at him perplexed. "I'm sorry, but I do not understand, Doctor. My aunt?" She knew she didn't have an aunt, so she was unsure what he was talking about.

The doctor mistook her confusion as concern as his hand rubbed over his face. "Your aunt, Sarah, has passed, Hazel," he said, his hand rubbing his scruffy cheek. "She contracted tuberculosis while working in a hospital in Brooklyn."

Hazel looked at him, still gawking at the doctor. The only Sarah she knew to be working in Brooklyn was Steve's mother. The realization set in, and the dread of the loss finally showed, making her slump in the chair as tears pricked her eyes. Her mind went straight to Steve , her heart breaking for him and how he was alone now, 'sides Bucky, that's if the brunette was still around.

"Mlle Hamilton?" Dr. Benoit interjected her thoughts, worry evident on his face as he handed her his handkerchief. She took it without question as she could feel the tears that gave away her true feelings. "Hazel, obviously she meant a lot to you," he stated slowly. He was writing something on a piece of paper, then handed it and an envelope to her. "Go home. Be with family."

"Sir!" she exclaimed sitting up straight in the chair, the handkerchief clutched tightly in her hand. "I have rounds and patients to look after."

Dr. Benoit held up his hand to silence her. "It's not an option," he said firmly, "you are relieved of your duties. You have all the papers and currency for your voyage home. Take care of yourself Hazel Hamilton."

She stood up, and straightened her apron as she huffed, throwing the white cloth onto his desk and took the papers and envelope from him. "Il a été un plaisir , docteur," she rushed out to be polite but her tone was anything but.

June 29, 1940

Hazel stood outside the apartment for a good half hour trying to will herself to knock. She's been in Brooklyn for nearly a week now, and she still hasn't seen Steve, unsure if she really wanted to see him. The poor boy had to be devastated; almost twenty-two and no family left for him. It made her heart break. The more she thought about it, the more she began to second guess herself of being there.

"If you're looking for Steve, he's not home," said a voice behind her, making her breath catch in her throat. "Hazel?"

Hazel closed her eyes and breathed deep, counting to ten in her head. Slowly turning around, she opened her eyes to meet the warm brown ones of Bucky. She looked him over: three piece suit, hair slicked back, and the same damn smug look.

"James," she responded with forced confidence.

"When did you get back?" His question felt loaded due to the way his eyes narrowed slightly at her, checking her over as well causing her hand to go up to her head in fear that her pin-curls were noticeable through her scarf. This made Bucky smirk, which in turn, made her angry.

"I don't need to tell you," she vexed as she tried to push past him on the narrow walkway, but to be stopped by his hand on her upper arm. "Let go of me Barnes," she demanded through clenched teeth.

"You know, Mrs. Rollins saw you almost a week ago at her flower shop." He was baiting her, she knew it by the smirk on his face. "She said you bought some bachelor buttons. Coincidence, that's Mrs. Rogers' favorite flower. Even more of a coincidence, I took Steve to the cemetery a few days after Mrs. Rollins said she saw you, and guess what was at her grave?" His narrowed eyes felt like they were looking through her as his grip tightened slightly on her arm.

Hazel looked over to her right watching the laundry on the suspended lines flutter in the wind that raced through the space between the buildings, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. "I couldn't see him, James," she whispered as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She felt a tear drop from her eye when she blinked and moved to wipe it away, but Bucky did it for her.

"Hurt too much?" he asked gently, his hand released her arm and rubbed it soothingly.

"More than you can ever know," Hazel whispered. She looked at Bucky out the corner of her eye before she sighed. "She was like a mother to me." The admission made her voice crack as more tears formed. "Steve. He needed me, and where was I? France."

"Hey, you didn't know that she was going to pass while you were gone, Hazel. No one did," Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably as he was unsure of what to do with her crying.

Hazel opened her clutch and pulled out her white handkerchief, dabbing her eyes as she sniffed. "Sarah took me in when my parents died, James. She's the one that supported me to go overseas, understood why." She put the cloth back into her clutch and straightened her posture. "Don't tell him I was here. Please, James," she begged as she turned to leave.

"He wants to enlist," Bucky muttered causing Hazel to turn back. "He thinks he has nowhere else to go, Hamilton."

She stared at him for a moment, her face like stone. She was fighting the urge to scream as she walked past Bucky. She bent down and picked up a brick by the door, revealing a key. "I'm going to kill him," she uttered as she unlocked the door and walked in.

[the-mf-bread-babies]

loneliness </\///\|/3

a fic by rocco wulfram north, m.d.

(found that name on hardcore baby names)

–chmapter jop–

before the tríp

It was a normal day for the Skullsmashers: go to somewhere, kill people, be gay, sleep, get brunch. Right now was the first part of their daily routine, and they were getting ready for it.

“holy fuck nova could you hurry the shit up i have to brush my fucking teeth you bitch” Ace hissed, knocking repeatedly on the bathroom door. “Fuck You. I'm Going To Go To Hell Itself” Nova gargled back, mouth full of mouthwash. More banging was heard; the door had seen better days.

Several feet away was Jake, all dressed up and ready to go, waiting for the others to get ready. He sat on the couch gayly in the living room down the hall, scrolling through Apocalypse Twitter. ‘every day i throw down an unpeeled boiled egg from the rooftop to simulate fear and unreadiness’ he read, a tweet from Orc's account. What the fuck. Classic Orc.

“ah fuck !! am i late !!” Jake turned around to see Damon panicking and counting the daggers in his pockets. “no no not at all. i just get ready really quickly to throw everyone into a state of disarray” Jake replied in an honest, monotone voice. “come sit down”

Damon sat down nervously next to his captain, knowing he'll ask him for Bambi on the PS2 now. “look. look at them those dumbshits” Jake uttered, pointing to Ace and Nova arguing. “those little bastards are completely unaware that ive put a fake cockroach puppet in the mirror. watch now” he added, pulling out a cheap remote control and pressing a button.

*sound of glass breaking* Jake sighed. “okay maybe that wasn't really the best idea” Nova screamed, running out of the bathroom and confusing Ace. “Fucking Roach!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she yelled, already too far away from them to be heard clearly. “huh. well okay then!” Ace grinned, going into the bathroom.

“i'll guard. you do your thing okay? :-)” Damon said to Jake, smiling mischievously. Jake's heart skipped a beat as he was suddenly flustered by the killer's action. «oh god, shit's just gonna get more complicated from here» he thought, staring into nothingness.

Damon braced himself against the bathroom door, eager to hear Ace's chaotic screaming. “ready ??” Damon asked, sending Jake back to the real world. “hhuh??????? oh yea right” he mumbled before beginning to control the cockroach with the remote. “this shit cost me like 200 bucks so it better be worth it”

HOLY MOTHER OF

F U C K

JAKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

WHAT THE S H IT DUDE

ace will remember this.

Jake cackled loudly, rolling on the floor and hitting the table with his fist. “LMAOOOOK FUCK YOUUU” he yelled, angering Ace even more. “I WILL GODDAMN SKIN UOUR FUCKIGN ISTINEDSTINES OLD MAN I SWEAR TKC FUCKF” they yelled back, pushing the door repeatedly. “IM GOIND TO FUCKIGN DIR HERE YOU BITCH”

“ah . ace ? could you move a little please ? i'm trying to get in ?” Damon said annoyingly kindly, making Ace jab a fake knife through the space between the door and the doorway. “THIS IS THE BEST FUCKIGN KNIFE I HAVE ON ME RIGT NOW BUT PLEADR JSUT FUCK O F F”

“hm ... i'll have to check in with the blacksmith today to know what this one's worth... possibly rusted here, though.... could also just be dirt tho.....” Damon mumbled, examining the knife. “FUCKING HEL P” Ace yelled in distress, his breath seeping through the door. “ace. brush your fucking teeth that's disgusting.”

“IM FUCKIF D TRYINF THERES JUST A FUCKGIFN ROSCH HEREERF” Ace explained fearfully, trying their best to get some pity from the other. “a what ?? don't think we have those here” “A FUCKIFN COKROSKC” “corrosion ???? how bad” “FUCK YOU A GODDMAND COKCROACH” “girls?? what?? are they milfs??” “HOW THEE DFUCKDB DID YEOU HEAR FTHAY WHATS DUCUNESKRHI”

Jake's hand slapped against Damon's shoulder as a way of saying thanks. “good work out there soldier. us skullsmashers really need someone like you damon” He said confidently, disguising his flirting as a compliment. “cool !! you too man !!” The shorter man replied, completely unaware of the flirting and continuing to yearn for the mutual love between him and Jake. fuckin idiots lmao

“alrighty fuckers, let's move!”

Rachel's voice sent Ace and Nova into a panic, making them scram to look for their weapons and equipment. “Got everything ya need? W'ain't makin' any stops; tryin'a save fuel.” Shaw asked, leaning against the wall at the entrance menacingly. “When the fuck did you even come here.” Dennis asked in surprise, carrying suitcases. “Hmph. Man never tells his secrets, young man.” She replied, tilting her cowboy hat. “What…”

Aaron was sitting peacefully in the trunk of a pickup truck they had, only to be met by a large backpack to the face. “ah!!!!!!!! very sorry!!!!!!! we'll be going in separate vehicles, and trunk space is very much needed!!!!!!!!” Whitney said, apologizing. “Ah. Well. O-okay then.” Aaron stuttered out, holding back tears from the painful impact the backpack had. Pretty sure he'll get a bruise from that.

Henderson and Rachel were waiting in the front seats of yet another pickup truck. To pass the time, they took very cringey pictures of each other pretending to be on Cowboy TikTok™. “Do one where you're pregnant with the truck's baby!” Henderson suggested, making Rachel flip the bird at her but begrudgingly agreeing with her stupid idea. “i literally would skin you alive.” She spat out, putting a pumpkin inside her shirt. “That's… literally so sexy, babe.” Henderson replied back, taking more pictures.

Meanwhile, Andre was busy explaining to Cyprus, who was in a small glass jar, that forcibly entering Damon's bloodstream and mutilating his entire body was not very nice, with Orc and Sarah judging. “YES BUT UNLIMITED POWER COULD BE RIGHT IN OUR HANDS ANDRE” “That'd very mean of you to do, and could actually probably kill you too in the process.” he explained to deaf ears. Well, technically no ears. Yet. “CYPRUS I KNOW IT SOUNDS STUPID BUT YOU COULD LITERALLY DO THE SAME BUT LIKE IN AN ELEPHANTS BODY DUDE” Orc suggested, only to be ignored. “cmon cyprus just pleaaaaase dont kill ppl ok”

Jake looked outside, then back at Damon. “well guess its time to move!” “yea ... but at what cost.” Damon replied confusingly, making a sad face. “did you know today is…” he started, then regretted saying anything. “nvm…” He turned away from the punk, sniffling and walking to Dennis and Aaron.

“damon” “??” Jake asked quietly, craning his neck a little before making the decision to leave the new recruit alone. Instead, he joined Henderson and Rachel in their odd activities.

“hey guys. i fucking miss sans.” Damon confessed, taking a seat next to Dennis. “My nose is bleeding.” Aaron pointed out. “ok. today's sunday. and you Know what That Means… Meant,” The boy continued, facing the ground. “Kanye West he…” Dennis began (begun???? idk). “… liked.” Aaron continued, also affected emotionally by the departure of not only Sans, but Komaeda too.

Jake stared longingly at the family, wishing he was a part of it too. He truly felt Ariel Little Mermaid's desire to become human. Seven Vagánias… that was a risk he was willing to take for him. He would shave his eyebrows off for that man, and he just might do it right now.

“Jake? Don't do that. Please don't fucking do that.” Henderson suddenly interrupted, surprising Jake. “do what” Henderson squinted her eyes, giving Jake a suspicious look. “That's the face you make when you want to do silly things…” She pointed out.

“You had that when you almost electrocuted yourself at that stable, you had that when you threw the dart at Scoran, you had that when you glued Marcus and Reese–” “OKAY OKAY I GET IT IM A DUMMY SILLY LITTLE BITCH BOY OK”

Rachel put the pumpkin back on the ground and went to the two friends, curious to know what the quarrel was about. “what's poppin gayboy!” She loudly asked, slapping Jake's forearm strongly. “i am in peril and shaking and crying” “daddy issues” “yget?” He explained, gesturing towards the Russells.

“ah. please clarify what kind.” Rachel said, knowing Jake has a very questionable taste for fictional middle-aged men, such as Sigma Overwatch and the guy from the cowboy game. “the fuckin. family one rachel” “look at em just vibing and simply being gay”

Rachel and Henderson gave eachother a look that questioned whether Damon and Jake were going to be a thing or not, since Jake's technically still with Andre. “Considering the fact that they adopted Damon, they could probably also adopt you if you wanted to.” Henderson suggested, knowing Jake wouldn't like this and would stupidly unknowingly accidentally confess his love for Damon to them both right then and there.

“what?????” “ew no thatd be fuckin incest or some shit what the fuck” Jake said, being grossed out. “what would be the incestuous part, jacon. we did not say or hint at anything related to incest.” Rachel asked, making Jake's hair stand up in panic. “fuCKIN NOTHING DUH” “BUT LIKE YKNOW I GET CRUSHES REALLY EASILY YEA??????” Jake explained weirdly.

“So there's a new one right now, huh…” Henderson asked… feeling like she was in Ace Attorney. “no!!!! no wait” “well yea– no.. but i–” “fuck You but yes” Jake grumbled. “ah no, we won't tell, obviously. it was just getting way too obvious, so we just wanted to hear it from both sides.” “WH” Rachel said mysteriously, getting into the driver's seat of the pickup truck. “okay guys let's go!!” She yelled out, starting the engine. “THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??????” “BOTH SIDES???”

chapter dos

two four trucks

The journey to god knows fuckin where idk didn't plan i guess a fuckin cabin or smth idk was long and torturous, especially when Rachel said that cryptic-ass thing before going. What the fuck was that supposed to mean, bro.

sudden interlude for seating arrangements !!

truck 1: Henderson, rachel, whitney, CYPRUS

truck 2: jake, damon, marge, Andre, Aaron

truck 3: ace, Nova, Dennis

truck 4: sarah, ORC, Shaw, viper

truck two.

Jake awkwardly patted Marge's head in the backseat of the truck, avoiding eye contact with Damon and Andre. Of course he had to go on a three-day trip in the same car with his ex, his crush, AND his crush's father. God, he was pretty sure this was the lab rats' doing.

“cows.” Damon pointed outside, earning Andre's attention. “Holy– what are those?” He asked, taking his sunglasses off to admire the beautiful little cows. “Cows… we drink their milk and wear their skin as jackets…” Aaron explained, his eyes drifting from the road momentarily. “They can have best friends and stuff. Really nice guys. Also, they're expensive as hell.”

“Y–You do what. Their skin??” Andre asked, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “yeah and we rate them based on which layer it is. also, like their meat, expensive as hell. but still very cool.” Damon said, confusing Andre even more. “they also give us cheese and ice cream and whipped cream and stuff. underrated little babies. they deserve better.” “they also have nose rings which are punk as hell–”

“Wait, why the nose– cheese?! Cheese?! AND ice cream??!” Andre asked again, his mind attempting to comprehend the greatness that cows are. “Oh man, you are not ready to hear about pigs.” Aaron said jokingly. “What the fuck are pigs???” “Sausages, ham slices, bacon, lard, leather too, rotisserie–” “aaron please i'm gonna throw up.” “Oh, right. Sorry,”

Jake sat quietly in his seat, just now realising how much of his world Andre's missing. Sure, his world was much cooler, but do they have sheep? Palm trees? Penguins? Thought not, bitch. “andre do you know what a kangaroo is” He asked, breaking his silence like that one YouTuber.

“A what?” “kangaroo. some of them are buff as shit and they move by hopping. they cant hop backwards and they also keep their babies in little pouches attached to them and their bones and guts are exposed on the inside of said pouch. baby kangaroos are about the size of a jellybean, and the adults can box you”

“They what” “yea they're weird as fuck.” “its from australia so” “That sounds fake.” “oh man. wombats bro. quokkas. fuckin drop bears and flying foxes. PLATYPUSES!!!” “wombats poop in cubes and quokkas are always smiling” “Koala bears hold onto tree branches and eat their mom's shit, which is the leaves of said tree branches.” “Please stop what the fuck” “ohoho fucking GEESE” “GET IM JAKE MY NEIGHBOR HAD FUCKIN THREE OF THOSE BITCHES”

truck three.

The three sat silently, with the exception of Dennis, who was swearing at random times. “You call that a fuckin’ turn, old man?! HUH?!!” Ace's shoulders jumped, the sudden exclamations preventing them from sleeping through the trip. “This Is Probably The Last Time We'll See Each Other Alive.” Nova stated calmly. “i slept for like two minutes last night… didn't even get to wear conditioner today. unrelated but just sharing my struggles with you.” Ace said, shifting into a more comfortable sleeping position.

Dennis overheard the two talking, and opted to stay quiet for the rest of the trip, before stumbling across a strange sight. “FROG!!!” he yelled, waking up the duo. “he said fuck! he said the f” Ace yelled out while rubbing their eyes. “Are We Aliven't” Nova asked, stretching. “Sadly, no, but the good news is, I found a frog!” Dennis excitedly said, opening the car door.

“WHAT” “THAT SHITS GONNA POISON US WHAT THE FUCK” Nova yelled out, unfortunately not loud enough for Dennis to hear it. The man kept walking towards the creature that was technically an alien to them, and picked it up with watery hands. “DENNIS YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING KILL US ALL!!!!!!! DENNIS!!!!!!”

“So, you kids know how to handle a frog?” Dennis asked in a wholesome tone, alerting the two even more. “KILL IT KILL IT FUCKING KILL IT” “Oh, are you guys allergic to this little guy? Sorry, I'll put it in the dashboard instead.” “GET ITBOUT WHAT THE FUCK DENNID JESUS” “… Huh?” “POSIOJ DART FOGR” Nova shouted, hiding behind the passenger seat and being pushed by Ace, who was also going to hide there. “BITCH”

Dennis and the frog stared at them in confusion, hearing their horrified screams. “This is… a wood frog… not a poison dart… that one would probably die in this climate…” he explained plainly, his hands gently cupping the newfound friend. “oh. ok” Ace muttered quietly, while Nova maintained an awkward silence. “You can… pat them very softly if you want.” Dennis suggested. “Or spray the shit outta them. That could work too.”

Nova nervously held out her hand to pat the frog, then smiled in succeeding to do so. “Death Quivers Before Me” She said, proceeding to pat it even more. “can i do the spray thing.” Ace asked, their voice quiet as a whisper. “Yeah, sure. Go right ahead.”

*the frog was going to die so technically they didnt like fuck up the ecosystem or smth. do not attempt this irl.

truck four.

“What jolly tunes d'ya have on this here truck. Fellas.” Shaw asked, observing the radio. “uh, really, i don't think it'll be necessary!!!!!” Viper nervously said, only to be ignored. “NONSENSE! ONE'S TASTE IN SHANTIES PROVES TO BE A WINDOW INTO THEIR LIVES.” Orc said wisely, patting them on the shoulder. “i guess that's good advice, but really–”

TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. MY MUSCLES. MY MUSCLES. INVOLUNTARILY FLEX.

“I SEE. A MATING SONG FOR YOUR SPECIES?” “my truck f### playlist,.,.,.” Viper tried to mute the speaker to no avail as most of the buttons on the control panel were very much broken. “I'm. Very sorry for this, pardner. But this doesn't sound so bad. I could put this in a jukebox…” Shaw consoled, only making them panic more. “im so f#ckig sorry” They said, before smashing the radio with a briefcase.

They all paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. “i have spotify…” Sarah croaked, holding up her phone. “they have lemon demon too, if you want…” She muttered, scrolling through the song choices. “does anyone want to listen to wet a–” “no.” “okay.”

The truck grew even quieter for a while, until Shaw gave a suggestion to pass the time. “Wanna play 20 questions?” “I'll start: how many folks have y'all killed?” Viper gave the assassin a horrified look, confusing her. “I think mine's around 150. No… 145…” She confessed, rubbing her chin. “Wait, or was it 160?”

“like six. do you like girls, and, follow up question, do you also coincidentally like short girls with long hair.” Sarah said without hesitation, stopping Orc from answering the first question. “Yes! I literally have a wife!” Shaw shouted happily, rolling up her sleeves to show Sarah her tattoos. “This one is her setting herself on fire and me getting inspired–” “ah, yes–” “That one was a total cover-up! Previously, it was the names of my exes, all thirteen of them, but now, it's my cat!”

After some time of receiving a bit too much RexShaw lore, Sarah finally got the answer she so desperately needed from Viper. This was the verdict that determines whether she could make a move or not. This answer could change– “i am gay and do not get attracted to women. thank you.” Ah. Back to more hunting. “I am a lesbian! High-five!” Shaw exclaimed.

And finally, the first truck.

truck one.

Loud country music blared in the truck as they drove by the snowy mountains of uhh. Winsnow. Like winter and snow. They had all chosen separate routes in order to cover more land and see if there were any new developments in the area.

“BRANDY!!! FETCH ANOTHER ROUNF!!!!!!” Rachel screeched as she drummed on the dashboard. “AND SHE FJSJS” Henderson kept driving, searching every inch of land for a rest stop to stretch her legs and also listen to something else.

“hendy.” Rachel said, getting her girlfriend's attention. “do you wanna buy that slime that cleans cars and stuff?” Henderson stared into the distance, pondering. “Hm. There's always the possibility of the slime disappearing under mysterious circumstances and turning up in the trash can the next day covered in saliva, so.” Whitney looked away, feeling attacked.

“yeah, that's a problem.” Rachel muttered, her hand instinctually moving to Henderson's. “Please don't crash the car.” She begged, looking sadly at her. “is there a domino's nearby. i heard they have that new peanut butter chocolate lava cake.” Rachel asked, cupping Henderson's face gently.

“Rachel. There's fucking mountains.” Henderson pointed out, gesturing towards their surroundings. “That shit will freeze.” Rachel put her head down in disappointment. “yeah. damn.” “MORE FLESH!!! MORE FLESH!!! MORE FUCKING FLESH!!!”

Oh yeah, Cyprus was here the whole time. “why does the metal say fuck?????” And Whitney too! “MIND YOUR OWN GODDAMN BUSINESS. FLESH NEEDED!” Cyprus yelled out, resembling a hungry toddler on a road trip.

“do you want like a burger or something......” Whitney asked, judging the spirit. “FLESH” “like are you more of a kfc or a mcdonalds guy” “NEED FLESH” She gave the couple a look, one that was kind of undecipherable due to her lack of normal face details like eyebrows, visible pupils, etc.

“So, three peanut butter lava cakes and one meat lover's… what else?” “ah!!!!!! no lava cake for me, i'm on a diet!!!!!! dirt and dirt only!!!!!!!!!!! also fish bones as a treat” Whitney corrected, her eyes searching for a nearby body of water. “Or, we could get Cyprus the fish meat, and Whitney the bones.” “sounds good to me!!!!!!!!” “FLESH”

…

“welcome to domino's! can i get your order?”

“three peanut butter lava cakes, please. that's all. thank you.” Rachel said, her seat switched with Henderson's, who was too nervous to order. “okay but they each take like three hours to make” “what.” “yea you can stop by like the grocery store up ahead” “fuck you for ordering this” “i–” “fuck off”

the grocewy stowe

The truck stopped by the front of the building, Rachel telling them to go in first while she searches for a good parking spot. Much to Henderson's disappointment.

“My lover…” Henderson said with fear in her voice. “it's okay… go along… i… i have to do this for you…” “for you all… i won't forget the good that you've done to me and everyone i've ever known…” “Rach, please don't go, I lo–” “you all are the kindest people… heaven may wait eagerly for you, but as for me, the ground trembles for its latest meal. fresh from the oven, i will enter the furnace…” “why the fuck would they cook you again” “because i'm TOAST!!” “haha”

“Kill Ronald Reagan while you're at it… I forgot which one he is but I'm pretty sure he's a total bitch…” “i will meet you doomguy” “heeeeeeeh” Rachel whined weakly as she slowly drove over to the spot she wanted.

MOTHERFUCKER.

A silver Honda Civic quickly made its way into there, angering the scientist. “not on my watch, fucker.” Rachel muttered, sliding the pickup truck across the road. She slammed her palm onto the car horn, which terrified even a murder of crows.

“huh wonder who that is” “hm anyway which fish do u like ???? :-)”

A woman who seemed to be in her late 40s exited the Honda Civic, throwing a rather large and flashy boa around her neck. “Jesús, ít's cold in hère,” The lady commented, putting on a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. “Márie, come along, ma cheghhy!” (i forgot how to spell it)

oh, son of a B I T C H .

it's the french lady who smells weird.

Of course, seeing your enemy in any circumstance that wasn't planned was clearly a little scary and will probably be your last day alive, but bumping into them at a Target was kinda… awkward.

Both the hazelnut and the dolphin were less armed and armoured than usual, and there weren't any bodyguards or security. Usually, if a top leader goes anywhere, the standard protocol was to do thirty separate background checks on the location and have it guarded up somewhere in the three months before their arrival.

So, obviously, someone in Top 50 driving around town in a decades-old car buying groceries isn't very safe, or probably even legal. Hell, she hasn't even seen them wear anything this ridiculous ever. Could this be a distraction? Or is it an opportunity?

Ah, wait, they're both wearing their stupid little marriage bracelets.

It's the middle of October.

This is their anniversary vacation.

Shit.

in the store

Henderson strolled through the aisles with Whitney at her side, hugging Cyprus's jar. She examined the cereal boxes to make sure they didn't contain any food colouring that could potentially kill her.

Whitney, on the other hand, zoomed over to the meat section, licking her lips at the sight of a raw cod. “cyprus…… do you feel that? the need to devour a being???? the uncontrollable desire for energy that it transcends all laws and regulations placed on mankind?????? the growing hunger for power, one that's so strong it controls your every need????

a natural, primal instinct to become such a brutal being that no one, not even you, recognise yourself anymore. you look at yourself in the mirror and you feel like you want to destroy that, to put yourself onto the pedestal you belong on, to wreak havoc on the cosmos of all beings, living and dead, real and mythical, walking and extinct.

you know that you're the only who understands this instinct, the only one who follows it to this distance. everyone else may underestimate you, but in the end, you'll rise above them all. man's natural instinct is to become the ruler of all.”

“What the fuck, Whitney. Anyway, I talked to the deli guy and he said he could pay you to eat up some scraps if you want. You down?” Henderson asked, her trolley already full of snacks. “yea fuck it man” Whitney replied, walking over to the ‘staff only’ door. “im hungy as fuck”

parking lot.

Despite the growing need to kill the woman, Rachel was managing to control herself. Even though this was the perfect opportunity to eliminate one of them, she knows she'll be replaced by someone much crueler. So for now, she'll just stick to watching this lady consider which can of tomato sauce is better than the other.

Rachel parked the truck near the entrance and the Honda Civic. She kept an eye on the couple as she quietly made her way inside through the back door.

“So thàt's when Í saìd, ‘that's not a cactùs, that's a lámp!” Karén playfully said, her hand entwined with her wife's. Rachel was unsure whether to stalk the two or join her friends in shopping.

WELL, FIND THAT OUT IN THE NEXT PART,

B I T C H !! !! !!

[romanarose]

Darkness on the Edge of Town: Chapter 1

Joel Miller X Reader

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Summary: While heading home for a mandatory lockdown, Joel stumbles on something he wasn't supposed to see with FEDRA guards and steps in. This, unfortunately, lands with him spending unexpected time with a young woman. Oh, and there's only one bed.

warnings!: attempted gang rape, physical hard with a gun, mentions of blood, canon typical violence, lmk if I missed anything! EVENTUAL SMUT

A/N: This was supposed to be a one shot. Now I'm not sure how many chapters we're looking at. Three minimum. Also, I KNOOOOWWWWW this follows the biggest Romana trope: Protective! Man protecting a woman. I will not apologize.

EDIT: This was originally posted as an OC fic, because I had bigger plans for it, but I honestly lost a lot of steam on it. I was going to give up on it tbh but someone sent an ask asking about a chapter 2, and I hate to disappoint! So I'll be condencing the story and making it a reader fic. hoping you guys like it! ****************************

As the sun was setting, Joel walked to his home, trying to savor the last of the outside he’ll have for the next couple days. The local government had made a mandatory few day quarantine for no discernible reason other than to exercise control, remind the citizens who was in charge. A week, give or take, without work wouldn’t be great by any means, but Joel and Tess at least had a partnership, so they weren’t completely on their own. This week, however, Tess was gone. She was making a trade with Bill and Frank when the lockdown announcement came out, and Joel had to radio over for her to stay there until it ended. This meant that he had a week alone in his tiny apartment room without Tess knocking on his door for one reason or another.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” A woman shouted from the alley he was passing.

Joel’s survival instincts said to keep walking; wasn’t his business, wasn’t his problem, wasn’t him or Tess or any of their allies. He didn’t need to get involved. But Joel knew right from wrong, and as much as he liked to pretend to himself he wasn’t a good person, that he wasn’t the same person he was before Sarah died, he couldn’t keep walking. Plus, Tess would kill him if she knew he walked away from this. Turning down the alley, he saw you being pushed and pulled by some soldiers; all men. One pulled you by the shirt so you were flush against him, and you shoved him off yourself, making the young man hit the alley wall. This action earned you a pistol whip, causing blood to come out of you forehead as you cried out, stumbling backwards into the arms of another man, and Joel couldn’t stand back any longer.

“Hey!” He shouted, striding further into the alley. One of the soldiers grabbed your arm, keeping her to him and away from Joel. “What’s goin’ on here?” He said, eyeing the men. He was more or less familiar with them, some he knew their names, some he didn’t but recognized their faces.

One man he had dealt with, a trouble maker who liked to use his power to his benefit and was surround by rumors of his treatment of women. Nothing could be proven, and no real accusations were made; they wouldn’t go anywhere if there had been. His name was Ross, a younger man than Joel was by a few decades, one of those who had been teenagers when shit went south. That age had been terrible in the ‘before’, a time of confusion and soul searching for anyone, and all that had been interrupted by losing everything. This created a lot of inner turmoil that never settled for most. Some killed themselves, some managed it, some became god awful people.

Ross spoke, eyeing Joel with a smirk. “Curfew, Joel, you know the rules.”

“She’s still got ten minutes.” Joel spoke firmly, his stare intense on the younger man, letting him know he wasn’t backing down. His eyes connected with yours. Joel wasn’t an idiot, he knew there were different dangers in this world for women, something he’d likely never have to worry about outside of concern for Tess.

Not phased by Joel the way many others were, Ross continued his hold. “She lives on the other side of town, she’s not getting there on time. But don’t worry” He laughed lightly. “We’ll escort her”

If Joel wasn’t certain what they were planning, the way they laughed and smiled at each other told him. With a grunt, you kick your leg hard against his shin repeatedly, causing him to shout and push you off of him to stop the assault on his leg. Joel took the opportunity, grabbing your dirty shirt and yanking you back behind him. Surprisingly, you smack his arm in return. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m trying to help you” Joel grumbled to you.

“I don’t need it” But none the less you stood behind his broad body.

Ross was less pleased now. “Lockdown is in 5 minutes, how you gonna get her home before then, Joel?”

Joel hesitated. This was the last thing he wanted this week, a week where he had an excuse to stay home, be alone and wallow in his own misery, but there was no way he could live with himself if he just left you. “She’ll come with me”

Ross eyed him, obviously irritated that he’s losing. “You didn’t seem like the type to take in a charity case… or do you have some ulterior motives.”

Joel didn’t play games. Turning on a heel, you were now in front of him and he pushed you forward and out of the alley quickly. “Go”

You shoved him off you, whispering harshly. “Stop fucking touch me!”

“Go” But he kept his hands off you.

As they turned the corner, he heard Ross call out to them. “Four minutes Joel!” His voice echoed mockingly. “Better hurry!”

But Joel was already speed walking.

“Where are we going?” You scrambled after him.

“My place.”

You stopped in your tracks. “I’m not going with you.”

Turning around only briefly, he took one long stride towards her, pointing his finger. “You have two choices. Go with me to my shithole,” He pointed back towards the alley. “Or you can do with them. Up to you.” He saw you glare at him as he turned back around; he did his part and you were an adult, you could make her own stupid choices.

He heard you footsteps. You quickly followed him.

Joel and you barely made it in time.

The room was… a room.

One bed, a beat-up old lounge chair, a dresser, table and two chairs. The ‘kitchen’ was a small stove with a single burner, but it didn’t look very used; the microwave did. To the left there was a door, presumably to the bathroom. You stood in the doorway awkwardly, body tense and stiff.

Joel gestured vaguely around the apartment and grumbled something she didn’t quite understand, but she assumed it didn’t really matter what he said.

“Nice place” You said, looking around.

Looking slightly defensive, he replied. “No one’s making you be here”

You frowned at him. “I was trying to be polite, but fine, you live in a shithole.”

“Yeah, well, this shithole is where you’re stuck for the next few days, unless you wanna risk it with Ross” He said with a little bite, before feeling just a bit bad. When he glanced over at you, you were harshly glaring at him. “I’m Joel” He muttered under his breath.

“Yeah” You scoffed. “I picked up on that between you yanking me around”

Joel turned to face you, crossing his arms in annoyance. “You’re welcome” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Undeterred, you crossed your arms back, hips cocked as you stood in defiance, seeming to consider your next words. Then, as nervousness flickers around your face, you seemed to realize the position you were in. Looking away and to the floor, you spoke softer. “Thank you. I know this isn’t… ideal”

“Don’t worry about” He grabbed a flannel shirt and sweats from his drawers and tossed them abruptly at you, then motioned for the bathroom. “Showers o’er there. There's… um…” He hesitated. “Under the sink.”

You furrowed your brow, confused. “What’s under the sink?”

Running a hand through his hair, Joel turned away and pretended to be suddenly very interested in the lamp. “You’ll see.”

“Sounds like a threat, but okay.” You murmured as you shuffled into the bathroom before stopping and turning around, telling him your name.

He gave a nod, barely acknowledging you as you disappeared into the bathroom. This was going to be a long fucking week.

When you took in the dingy bathroom, you decided to see what he was talking about beneath the sink. When you opened up the small cabinet, you found possibly the last thing you were expecting to see in the bathroom of the world's grumpiest man. Pads. The initial surprise you felt was quickly overtaken with a swell of warmth. You wondered about the type of man he was before the outbreak. The last 20 years had broken some of the best people down, the need for survival tearing people apart… but you firmly believed good people remained good deep down, someone inside them, even if it only came out when necessary. And today, as you faced down a group of men with evil intentions, it was clear that this was a situation he couldn’t ignore. You’d seen a lot in your years, more than enough for several lifetimes.

The bath felt nice, even if it was cold, as did his clothes, as well worn as they were. When you padded out into the one room place, you saw him standing over what could barely be called a stove.

“It’s just shitty canned soup, you can have some. I don’t got a lot here, but enough to get us through.”

“Thank you. I can pay you back once I get home”

“Hm.” Was his non committal answer.

A pause.

“And thank you for stopping-”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I mean it-”

Joel whipped around, his eyes intense and alight. “I said, don’t mention it.”

You shut your mouth but glared at him, letting him know he was being a dick. And yet, you really weren’t in much of a position to complain, were you? He had saved you from an attempted gang rape, the act of which caused him to have to put you up in his home, share his clothes, his water, his food… All the while giving no indication he had any ill intentions of his own. How many people would do this for a stranger?

He got his food, sitting at the table and once again gesturing vaguely towards the ‘kitchen’, prompting you to get food for yourself. You didn’t feel you weren't exactly wanted at the diner table, so you looked around for another place to eat, moving over to the chair. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d sat on, but it wasn’t the best either. A new problem was glaring as they ate in silence.

There was only one bed.

You piped up. “I can sleep on this chair.”

“Yeah” Was all he responded.

Clearly, he meant for you to sleep there anyway. It was going to suck, but it was better than whatever was planned for her in the alleyway.

Wordlessly, he walked off and shut the door to the bathroom and it wasn’t long before she heard the water running to take his own cold bath. Amazing bedside manner, really. Top tier. You tried to remind yourself you were looking a gift horse in the mouth, and brushed off your bitterness. When Joel immerged, he didn’t look at her as he walked past.

“So,” You started.

“No.”

“How long have you-”

“No.”

“Do you at least-”

A loud groan as he scrubbed his face, signaling you to stop.

You sat there, staring at the wall while Joel went about his business before you heard him call to you. “Hey. C’mere”

You turned around, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why”

“If you want your fucking forehead infected, that’s on you”

“Wait!” You scrambled up, walking over towards him where he had some basic first aid. “Sorry, I-”

“Sit” He directed to the chair at the table, not making eye contact.

Doing as you were told, you sat down at the table, looking up at Joel as he bent over you. You winced as he applied the disinfectant. “You could sit-”

“No” Despite his harsh tone, his touch was gentle, careful, and moving away when you winced.

“So” You tried to start a conversation again. “Joel. That’s Hebrew, right? Are you J-”

“Stop.” Joel briefly put his hands down, standing straight up. From your view on the chair, you suddenly realized how tall he was. His eye contact, when focused on you as it was now, was all consuming. “We’re not friends, we’re not going to come out of this as friends, we’re gonna be lucky if we don’t rip each other's head off. So how about you stop talking, and I stop wondering if I can drown myself in the bathtub every time you ask me a question.” When you didn’t argue, he oh-so softly applied a bit of antibiotic ointment, careful not to waste the little he had.

“Well, that was a bit blunt” You commented as you studied his face. Handsome, older; graying but not falling apart. His accent was southern, but where? You could not place, but that would explain his sense of duty.

“You asked if I was Jewish an hour into knowing me, and out of nowhere. I don’t think I’m the blunt one here” Joel muttered again, but this time there was a hint of… something else. Not quite playful, there was nearly no change in his tone, he was just as gruff as before, but the way he spoke indicated it was almost a joke. Almost. But not quite. He stood up without another word and washed his hands of the antibiotic cream and remaining blood that had oozed out. Grabbing an extra blanket from the drawer, he tossed it at you aimlessly and hit the light.

“Go to bed”

“It’s 8pm”

“Go. To. Bed.”

“Old man”

This received no response from him, but you laughed to yourself.

“Good night Joel.”

A loud sigh was the only response you got.

**************************

I'VE NEVER WRITTEN FOR JOEL SO PLEASE BE NICE! I don't know a whole lot about this universe or the world building so I'm so sorry if this is wrong. But I love Pedro so so so so much and I love TLOU so far!!! Please leave a comment if you like what you see so I know people want more, and reblog if you are so inclined! It's the only way to spread my work on this sight!

Shocker. The fic is titled after a Springsteen song. Joel Miller Listens to Springsteen, Melloncamp and Petty and I will not be taking criticism at this time.

And! Be sure to check out my other Pedro character fic, Take Your Time with my boy Frankie Morales! Tagging some I think may be interested, if you aren't interested in Joel fics just comment to be removed!

My love, @welcometostayingawake @trinkets01 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @luciannadraven33 @howaboutcastiel

[dragonagecompanionsreact]

Hhhmmm...I'm just imagining the DAI companions reacting to a Teenage Inquisitor being kidnapped and how they were rescued (lol, just read the one where the DAI companions reactions to a normal age Inquisitor being captured, so I'm curious). Keep up the good work! Both you and Mod Sarah are awesome!

Cassandra: Maker help anyone who gets in her way. Provided she knows where they are, she’ll kill anyone she finds where they’re being held. No one can stop her. When she finds the shaken but very much alive Inquisitor, she pulls them up and looks them over for injuries, then just stands, hands on their shoulders, and staring at them. Finally, she lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank the Maker you’re alright…”

Blackwall: He blames himself; he thinks maybe if he had been more vigilant, this wouldn’t have happened. He throws himself into battle to save them with no reservation, and comes out of the fray more battered than the Inquisitor is. Even so, he rushes up to them and frees them. “Are you alright?” he asks repeatedly. “Maker’s tits, you gave us all a heart attack! You’re absolutely sure you’re okay?”

Iron Bull: Death and destruction befalls whoever took the Herald. A trail of corpses is left in his wake as he hurries to rescue the Inquisitor. Once he finds them, they peer up at him, covered in blood, but all he does is grin broadly, pick them up, and pull them into a rib-crushing hug. They groan and might complain about the blood, but he just grins toothily. “Glad to see you’re alright, Imekari.”

Sera: She throws an absolute shit-fit when she finds out, and when she finds out where they are, she grabs anyone she can and heads out immediately. Arrows upon arrows fly through the kidnappers. As soon as she sees the Inquisitor, battered but alive and intact, she practically pounces on them with a hug. “Don’t scare me like that again. Please.” she demands.

Varric: He’s encountered kidnapping and hostage situations before, and they’re among his least favorite problems to handle, especially when the Inquisitor is the one taken. It’s a situation he knows well enough that the best thing to do is remain calm and plan carefully how to approach the situation, and with the others, fights his way through to them and rescues them. He checks them over before finally patting them on the back and offering a reassuring smile. “We’re here; you’re safe now. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Cole: He knows where they are, and he knows who did it. He moves quickly and silently, appearing out of nowhere and stabbing whoever is in the way, and he follows the Inquisitor’s fears right to them. He feels their relief at the sight of him, and he smiles, daggers dripping blood, a man gargling on his own blood on the ground behind him. “You’re safe now. I’m happy to see you, too.” he greets cheerfully.

Dorian: The man insists on going with whichever companions head out to rescue them, and fights dirty and with little restraint. The whole time, his mind and heart are overtaken with worry and fear, and he takes it out in the form of risen kidnappers turning upon their own fellows. When he finds the Herald, he runs to them, helping them up, looking them over to ensure they’re not seriously hurt, before letting out a heavy sigh of relief and smiling at them, fighting back tears. “Come along, now,” he urges gently, “let’s get you out of this dreadful place.”

Solas: His heart clenches in fear, and as soon as he knows where they are, he takes off without waiting for the others. The Inquisitor, the da’len, is his responsibility, bearing his mark, and he would not tolerate anyone threatening them or endangering them. The Herald is somewhat startled by the calmness with which he kills all of the kidnappers, as if it is but a chore. His heart lifts at the sight of them. “Da’len,” he greets quietly, “are you harmed?”

Vivienne: Like Leliana, she handles it calmly, hiding whatever worry bubbles inside away. Cole may try to bring it up, but she shuts him down quickly and keeps working. A trail of frozen corpses is left in her wake as she approaches the Inquisitor. “My dear, were you hurt?” she asks as she begins examining them, healing any wounds she finds. They say no, and she lets out a quiet breath as she escorts them out, promising them a warm meal and a hot bath to soothe their nerves.

Leliana: The Inquisitor is back within a few hours, escorted by Leliana’s agents, and they’re battered and wide-eyed and shaken, but alive. She smiles calmly as they come back into Skyhold, and comes to visit them. “Welcome back,” she greets, “I trust my agents got you out in a timely fashion?”

Josephine: She panics the most. In spite of Leliana’s reassurances that her agents are on the case and that they’ll be back within a few hours, she finds it difficult to work. All of her terrified thoughts go to the Inquisitor. As soon as the Herald arrives back in Skyhold, she bolts out of her office to meet them, pulling them into a hug if they allow it. “I was worried sick!” she cries. “Are you alright? Do you need anything? Food? A warm bath? Did they hurt you? Let me help you however I can!”

Cullen: His reaction is to send about a hundred soldiers to rescue them. Leliana has to talk him down, saying that a subtle– and stealthy– hand was needed for this, lest the kidnappers see his forces coming and take off with the Herald in tow. He grouchily and reluctantly relents, though he has some soldiers hang back as backup. He can be see pacing the battlements, waiting for their return. He runs to meet them as soon as they appear in sight.