#like we all know he’s constantly drawing the person he’s enamored with

[duncans-idahoe]

Thinking about Jean Kirstein asking to sketch a Tasteful nude of you to keep in the pocket of his shirt for luck 😭

[captainrexforever]

His Queen

Rating: T

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: You’re a little hesitant about wearing makeup due to a past experience. Din has no problem changing your mind.

Warnings: childhood trauma??, little bit of angst, fluff, steamy makeout

Note: After the amazing response I received on my last fic I decided to write another one. After all, these ideas are still going to be swirling around my head even if I don’t put them in writing. I hope you enjoy!

Sidenote: Imagine him looking at you like this *swoon*

“Are you sure we don’t have any additional rations in the crates?”

“No, the kid snuck into the stash last night. I didn’t notice until after he polished off the last of the rations.”

Din just sighs.

“I can make the trip to the market while you finish the repairs.”

“No, I’ll go, I don’t want you to deal with all the bantha shit that goes on at these markets.”

For some reason-don’t ask why-it’s incredibly attractive to hear him curse. 

It’s touching to hear the protective note in his voice, but you feel that you are well enough equipped to handle yourself. As a teenager, you had been taught the essentials of self defense by a family friend.  

“It’s alright. I’ll have my comm with me and it won’t take long if I just place an order for delivery of the rations.”

“Alright, if you insist. Be careful.”

“I will.”

He stands from his kneeling position on the floor, where he had been checking the netting beneath the bench for any additional ration packets. You prepare to leave, patting down your pockets to make sure you have your credits, your blaster, and your comm before you set off. When you look up again, he’s standing in front of you, a tilt of his helmet betraying his inner thought process. A smile tugs at your lips.

“Looking for a goodbye kiss?”

He sighs again, and you’re certain he’s rolling his eyes beneath the helmet.

“Ner verd’ika, you are a tease.”

You giggle before raising your hands to the sides of his helmet, eyes fluttering closed as you tilt it upwards. With an accuracy born from hours of practice you lean forward, raising on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before allowing the beskar to fall back into place. He lets out a disgruntled huff, his hands falling to your hips and tugging you against his torso so that he can rest his forehead against yours.

“Be careful.” He repeats.

“Always.”

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

It’s surprising how many people can squeeze into the small marketplace, vendors and townsfolk chattering away as they bargain for an agreeable price. Animals bellow in the distance, adding to the noisy buzz that fills the crowded streets. 

You find yourself enjoying the bustling atmosphere, welcoming the stark juxtaposition to the quiet serenity of the Razor Crest. Before you can become too distracted, you steer your feet towards the largest area of the forum where several shops display food and beverages. 

After placing an order of rations and directing the shop owner to deliver the crates to the spaceport, you find there are a few spare moments to wander around the market before returning to the ship and tending to the delivery.

After traveling with Din for some time now, it has come to your attention that each planet you visit boasts a unique variety of wares. The citizens of this particular planet seem to possess a fascination with water-colored mugs and delicate embroidery. Not that you are complaining, everything that greets your eyes is absolutely gorgeous.

Upon rounding the next corner though, you stop dead in your tracks. Before you stands what is obviously a cosmetics shop. Holoimages are projected against the walls of the stand, each image featuring breathtaking models who-to your immense surprise-don't have you feeling even a dash of envy. What has you so enamored is the crowd of young women that peruse the shop. They are obviously a group of friends, but what shocks you the most is the presence of their mothers. Each parent is eagerly pointing out cosmetic items and encouraging the younger women to apply the samples that are provided. Bitter tears bite at the surface of your eyes, and you blink furiously in an effort to keep them contained.

As a young woman you had constantly been dissuaded from wearing makeup, told that it wasn’t appropriate at your age. You feel pathetic, chastising yourself and turning around with the intention of returning to the ship. But you don’t get very far, a feminine voice floating past your ears.

“Miss, Miss? Would you like to join us?”

Not wanting to expose your current state of turmoil, you scrub frantically at your tear-stained face, hoping to avoid further humiliation. When you feel presentable, you turn slowly, coming face-to-face with a girl that stands even shorter than you. Practically an impossible occurrence at your height, Mando would have teased you if he was here.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were by yourself, and well, on our planet it’s tradition for women to join together and add to their makeup collection on this particular day. It’s like the New Years of cosmetics.” Her eyes are shining, and she seems so genuine that you feel silly for your earlier judgement. “Although I am almost certain you are just visiting, my friends and I would be honored if you would join us.” Almost as if on cue, her friends rush up behind her, pleading with you to stay for just a little bit.

“Well, I…” Din will be expecting you back soon, and you don’t want to worry him.

“Pleeeaaaase!” They all beg, drawing out the word as they stare at you.

“Alright, just for a few minutes.” He won’t mind, you think to yourself. He and the kid can catch up while you are gone anyways, they haven’t been able to spend much time together lately.

The girls’ smiles are blinding and the first one grabs your hand, pulling you along as they all return to the stand to continue shopping. “I’m Tasha, by the way.” She beams. You smile back, sharing your name as well.

“What will you purchase?” Another girl questions.

“Oh, actually I don’t wear makeup.”

“You don’t?” They looked like you just told them Life day was made up.

“No, I....I never learned how to apply it.” That was close enough to the truth.

“Don’t worry, we’ll show you how!” Then Tasha is beckoning her mother over and soon they are exchanging ideas so quickly that you lose track, only picking up on fragments such as “transition”, and “complementary shade”.

“Could you please sit for a moment?” Tasha’s mother inquires, gesturing to a chair that rests next to the booth.

You’re a little hesitant, the assortment of items that they are both clutching in their hands has you yearning to turn your back and run.

Take a deep breath, it’s just a little bit of makeup, it’s not going to kill you.

After your flight instinct recedes a little, you move to sit in front of the older woman, trying not to flinch as she gently dabs several types of cream-like products on your face. She tuts here and there, discarding some of the products that she is holding as she works through all of the samples. Eventually, she finishes, holding out a wipe as she gestures for you to wipe your face. Once that is accomplished, she’s attacking the various assortment of products that Tasha is still holding. You idly wonder if it’s sanitary to be layering so many products over the sensitive skin of your face, but assume that it is probably alright if this is a common practice for most women.

What feels like hours later, after your face has been contorted into every position imaginable, your eyes weighed down by what seems to be a boat anchor attached to your eyelashes, Tasha and her mother proudly declare that you are ‘finished’-whatever that means. Then Tasha is holding out a bag of products for you to take. You eagerly accept the bag, feeling quite mature all of a sudden, and swagger over to the counter to pay the clerk. To your immense shock, Tasha’s own mother is sitting behind the register, and when you approach she insists that the items are ‘on the house’, refusing to accept any form of payment.

With a blush, you suddenly realize you have no idea how to apply any of the products yourself, but before you can even open your mouth, the older woman is sliding a piece of flimsy towards you. A detailed assembly of holoimages decorates the flimsy, demonstrations and instructions outlining the correct application technique for each product. There are tears welling in your eyes again, but you blink them back and circle the table to engulf the woman in a heartfelt embrace. She accepts the action with an affection you can only describe as motherly, patting your back gently until you pull away, then fixing you with a radiant smile.

Suddenly your heart drops into your throat, and your own smile fails. You can’t return to the ship looking like this! Din will be appalled that you delayed your departure from the spaceport to indulge in a personal shopping trip. Tasha’s mother frowns, watching as you suddenly turn frantic, scanning the nearby vicinity like a child who has been caught stealing a dessert cube. You reach for the packet of makeup wipes that sits upon the table, hastily rushing to explain the thoughts running through your head.

“This makeup is lovely, but I can’t return to my…” kriff, what should you call him...“friend looking like this.”

“And why not?” You are taken aback a little at the tone of your voice. She’s not angry, though there are hints of disapproval and surprise laced into her words.

You stammer for a response. “He...I…” Your brain sputters as you try to conjure the right words.

“Oh, I see. He’s that kind of friend. Well, if he doesn’t like the way you look, then you seem like the type of person who will have no trouble putting him back into his place.”

She continues speaking even as your jaw falls open.

“However, I heavily suspect that won’t be necessary.” The knowing grin that spreads across her face is like that of a loth-cat that just caught a canary.

“....” You can’t manage to utter a single word, trying to force down the blush that is rising to your cheeks.

“Here, take a look into this mirror.”

Woah, is that your face? Whatever had been applied to your eyes had caused the color to pop, drawing attention to your now piercing gaze. Every feature appeared to be enhanced, and you couldn’t help but note that your jawline seemed capable of cutting through duraplast, like a vibroblade through bantha butter on a hot Tatooine day.

“I look...wow.”

The older woman chuckles gently. “You look amazing dear. Embracing your natural beauty is important, but you shouldn’t be afraid of enhancing it either. No matter what, your inner beauty always speaks louder than any outer appearance ever will. Now go catch that man of yours. I’m sure he will agree with me too.” She ends with a pointed wink.

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

Shadows stream past you as you jog back to the Razor Crest, hoping you are not too late to meet the merchant who is delivering the order of rations. Of course your luck is worse than you expected, and not only is there no merchant in sight, but it seems that Din has already finished the repairs. Kriff. Well, you’ll just have to return to the shop and apologize to the owner before pleading for another delivery opportunity. Then, after you settle that, you will need to prepare an explanation for Din. 

Kriffing hell.

 How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?

“And here you had me thinking that you might have finally ditched me.” Din startles you, but there is a teasing lilt to his voice.

How is he still in a good mood? Wait, where is he?

“Up here.” He’s chuckling now too, probably at your apparent confusion, the bastard.

You look up and place your hands on your hips in disbelief of what you’re seeing. A shake of your head does nothing to help you understand what exactly is going on. At the moment, Din is flying figure eights in the air using his jetpack, the kid tucked securely in his arms while he squeals in delight. You shake your head again, looking down at the ground as a rush of affection floods your chest. The damned Mandalorian can be such a romantic without even realizing it. 

As of late, it has been difficult for either of you to discreetly purchase jetpack fuel at a decent price. Yet, here he is taking the kid for a ride, probably because he looked into those big brown eyes and couldn’t resist indulging the kid in a quick flight.

Their maneuvers continue for a few more minutes, and you wonder if you should head back to the market while Din and the kid are still occupied. Abruptly, you decide to take a seat inside the Crest for just a moment before jogging back to the store. It’s not until you scale the ramp that you notice the newly delivered crates resting inside the storage netting.

“The delivery arrived before you did, so I made sure that it was unloaded onto the right ship.” If you weren’t so relieved you might scold him for scaring you like that. Then again, he probably enjoys sneaking up on you. You scowl goodnaturedly, he’s lucky you lov--. Oh no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no.

No, no.

No.

He’s lucky you love the kid. That’s right, that’s what you meant to say.

Whew.

You move to rub your forehead, then realize that you’re still wearing what feels like fifteen layers of bantha paste and an entire canister of glitter on your face. Uh-oh. Has Din seen your face yet? You don’t think so. Your back is still facing him, but at any second he’s bound to step in front of you and notice that you’re all decked-out in makeup. 

Despite the kind words from the woman back at the market, you feel yourself begin to panic. What if he thinks you look silly, or worse what if it changes his perception of you? 

His footsteps advance forwards and you hold your breath, only for him to continue towards the kid’s hammock. It’s then that you realize the kid has fallen asleep in his buir’s arms, obviously worn out after his latest adventure. Din is exceedingly gentle as he sets him into his hammock, rocking the child for a few seconds to ensure he remains fully asleep.

As you bask in the sight of a soft, caring Din you don’t realize he’s turning around until it’s too late. He lets out a punched out sound once he is face-to-helmet with you, and although you are never sure where his visor is pointing, you know without a doubt that it is currently directed at your face. 

Neither of you move, gaze fixed firmly on the other for several minutes as a lingering tension brushes at your spine. Before you can explain yourself the lights flicker and plunge the hull into darkness, gloved hands and a beskar covered chest suddenly slamming into you, pinning you against the nearest wall so quickly that your back aches a little from the force of the impact.

“Kriffing hell.” He manages.

Oh, you definitely shouldn’t find that as attractive as you do.

“Is this what you were doing all afternoon?” His words are followed by a resonating clang, and you find yourself begging whatever deity is above that he is about to kiss you senseless. Sadly, he seems too interested in pressing a kiss to your neck while he whispers shamelessly into your ear. It’s a close second though, and you're definitely not complaining, especially when the position allows you to drop a hand down to squeeze his perfectly sculpted ass.

He lets out a growl at your feistiness, sucking at your neck in a manner that is sure to leave a visible hickey. “Maybe I should send you to the marketplace more often if this is how you’ll return.”

You let out a pleased mewl at that, proud that you are able to elicit such a passionate response from your usually stoic companion. “Sounds...sounds good to me.” Your reply is breathy, and there is no way that your lungs are supplying sufficient oxygen to your brain right now. It doesn’t help that Din has decided to wrap one of your thighs around his waist, your body erupting into flames at the suggestive positioning.

“Look so good.” It’s muttered between butterfly kisses, his lips charting the skin of your neck like it’s a flight path. “So pretty.” Another scorching kiss on your neck. “My sweet girl.” It’s half spoken-half growled against your throat.

A moan is ripped from your throat at that last sentence, and your free hand is scrabbling for purchase in his hair, using your touch to coax his lips to meet your own neglected ones. This man is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. He’s mewling into your mouth, half-chuckling because he knows how much you appreciate that specific action, then he’s pressing his tongue in as well, sliding it across yours as he dares you into a battle of dominance. You can’t help but indulge him, fingers tightening in his curls as you allow yourself to be a little more aggressive, pushing into his mouth as you lead him on a merry chase. Even in the most intimate of acts, Din is ever the hunter and he takes control in a record amount of time, knotting his hand in your hair so that he can position your head in whatever manner he desires. The whole act is absolutely delicious and your toe curls as you wedge yourself even closer to his armor-clad chest.

“I sure hope you have more of that stuff.” He mumbles against your lips when you both separate for a breath.

“Huh?” You finally manage after gasping down a breath.

“It makes you look like a queen.” He elaborates.

There’s no point in arguing with him, especially when his mouth returns to yours to shut down any rebuttal you might have.

It’s safe to say that any of your hesitations towards wearing makeup were cleared up after that particular incident, and you learned a couple valuable lessons that day. The most important being to buy extra makeup wipes for the Mandalorian himself. Let’s just say Din was an...enthusiastic kisser.

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

Ner verd’ika: my little warrior

Buir: (mother or father), in this case it pertains to ‘father’

Life day: the equivalent of Christmas in the star wars universe

[anothertimdrakestan]

Stop Talking And Kiss Me  -  Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 1.7

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“can i request 7 (no i'm not in love with him i like you idiot) and/or 8 (kiss me already) with jason? thank you!!”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I love this request! It’s super open so I hope I captured the energy you wanted to create in the studio today lmao. I went for the “will they won’t they” kinda thing because I like the idea of Jason thinking you like Tim but you really have been going after him for months. Jason is too cute I can’t Hope you enjoy!

“Hi. Yes Timothy the Luthor family comes in a week, no they won’t come earlier. No, I’m not calling anyone ‘again’ Tim shut up you’ll do fine we aren’t postpoining. Ok see you in 40 I’m going to another one of the finance meetings I know damn well you won’t be at” you tapped your earpiece, hanging up with your CEO. As the CFO you attended every meeting the higher-ups had about money, it way your job after all. Somehow being Tim’s right hand man meant making excuses to the board about his whereabouts and often his brother’s actions during meetings that were supposed to be money centric. Rushing to the meeting you felt a couple of the papers you were carrying fly off the top of your stack. Deciding they weren’t worth it you continued on not noticing the tall figure following closely behind you.

“Y/n! Hey! I got these uh - papers for you that you dropped” you skidded to a halt coming face to face with Jason Todd, currently the bane of your existence after his last social media storm where he vividly described a pornographic video he was hoping his following could find for him. The “Toddsters” always pulled through for Jason, to the Wayne Ent. board’s disgust. “Hey Todd, thanks.” you smiled up at him as he loomed over you. You really only knew him and Tim, obviously you were close with Tim but you were older than the teen-genius and so it was nice getting closer with Jason over the months. Months, this was because he used to never come in until a couple months ago when you requested he get brought in because you needed him to try to sell new W.E. tech to the “Toddsters”. After that he’d been coming in more frequently, sometimes he sat in on meetings with you and Tim, he was often bringing you and Tim lunch and the three of you would eat in your office while you prepared Tim for afternoon meetings.

Jason was surprisingly reliable. Occasionally you would ask him to bring you coffee or post a video of him asking his following for something, he always complied even if it took some coaxing from you, making promises to dinners together you assumed would never happen in return for W.E. paid promotions. He had grown on you, his goofy smile, aggressive finger guns, and occasionally dark and brooding persona was fascinating. You were constantly enamored by him, and since he’d been coming around the office way more you were beginning to fall for him. Tim knew since you two saw each other and was always trying to play matchmaker even though you both thought the other didn’t like the other, bringing you guys together was a task too difficult for the world’s second greatest detective so Tim just shipped the two of you quietly now. 

As Jason stacked you up with your papers he saw you could barely carry all of them. “Hey let me take these for you, anything for the princess of Wayne Ent” Jason took then out of your arms as you smirked at his nickname for you. He loved calling you princess, noting that Tim was the jester he never really asserted his own position. After an attempt at stopping the nickname it stuck, and you now answered to it happily, but only from Jason. Tim never tried it and when anyone else questioned it, either you or Jason just explained that it just fit. 

“Sure Jay but the board is gonna drag you into the meeting, it will be nice if you go! I’m sure we all want an explanation for your most recent social media activity” you poked his chest while he replied with a wink as he followed you into the meeting. You sat down as Jason dropped the papers on the meeting table with a thump. “Ah, Mr. Todd. Please we have just a few questions do join us” An older man looked up from his laptop, demanding Jason’s presence. Heaving a sigh he slumped into the chair next to you. 

As the second presenter for the meeting got up to walk you through slides at a turtle's pace you realized there was no sneaking out. Even though you were up to date on the company’s finances the rest of the room wasn’t and it was far too rude to leave. Looking over at Jason he had pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, rested his hand on his chin, and was asleep. You watched him draw in deep breaths and exhale, slightly blowing the corner of his hood with each breath, it was nothing short of adorable, but because this was a meeting you couldn’t snap a picture meaning you had to drink in every moment of cuteness. 

As the third presenter got up you considered faking a heart attack. Jason was awake now meaning you couldn’t steal anymore glances in his direction. Anytime you looked at him he was making a goofy face, winking at you, or trying to touch his tongue to his nose. Constantly concealing giggles, by the end of the third presentation your cheeks hurt from smiling. 

When the fourth presentation began you felt a little piece of paper poke your hand. Looking down you saw Jason trying to pass you a note like a fifth grader. Unwrapping his folding-job the note read: Y/n this is a boring meeting why do u go to these? You smiled, pulling a pencil from your bag you flipped the note over and wrote: because Tim makes me so he doesn’t fall asleep like you did. Jason smirked, tearing off a large piece of paper and writing: If you need to sleep you can rest on my shoulder. You scoffed looking at him as he gave his shoulder a little pat, grinning uncontrollably. You glared at him before deciding to shoot your mini shot: Flirting are we Todd? Your heart skipped a beat when a light blush appeared across his cheeks as he wrote: Not unless you’ll let me steal you from your boy toy Tim. Confused you looked at him replying: More like best friend Tim, I’m not a cougar idiot. 

Jason read the paper, his head snapping to you, blurting out in front of the whole board “wait you don’t like Tim!” You felt your own face redden when all heads turned to you. Quietly you mumbled “no I don’t like him” before grabbing the paper and finishing your thought: i like you idiot. Carefully sliding the paper to Jason, you cleared your throat. “Please continue Mr. Smith about the importance of gauging inflation” Willing yourself not to look at Jason you pretended to listen to the presentation while the rest of the board slowly lost interest in the little interruption. 

Deciding the coast was clear you glanced at Jason who was re-reading your note over and over again. He looked up, making direct eye contact with you, mouthing “I like you too princess” you couldn’t help but grin. His hand slip over, dropping the paper and grabbing your hand, pulling it below the table so as to not cause any drama. 

You gave presenter five no attention, too focussed on the fact that Jason Todd was holding your hand. Presenter five finished with a mini lecture to Jason on the importance of keeping his social media pg, he rolled his eyes but eventually nodded, effectively ending the meeting. You pulled your hand out of Jason’s and began organizing the papers you’d brought in as the rest of the board left the meeting room. As the last person left the room Jason practically ran to the door, shutting it quickly. 

Unable to process your excitement you began rambling “so uh, pretty eventful meeting huh? Did you hear anything the second guy said or -” Jason grabbed your hand, pulling you into his embrace. “Stop talking and kiss me y/n” he mumbled, leaning it. As his lips caught yours you could feel him smiling into the kiss, his hands snaking around your waist and pulling you in closer. Pulling away you couldn’t stop smiling. “I think I’m gonna come to Tim’s work more often” Jason admitted, winking at you. You hummed as you moved the papers into the storage system, moving towards the door to leave. “Hey princess lemme get that!” Jason dashed to the door, opening it for you and grabbing your hand as you walked out the door. 

Walking past your company hand in hand with their CEO’s older brother was a lot. For everyone. You blushed as people stole glances in your direction. Jason led you to your office where Tim sat in your chair, feet propped up on your desk.  “Uh hey Timmy” you sheepishly laughed as Tim took in your situation. “Todd I told you she liked you. Same goes for you Y/N. I just can’t believe I lost the bet with Roy I thought you were gonna be pining for each other for at least another week. Dammit” Tim feigned anger but then admitted how happy he was for the two of you. Sitting down for lunch you were exhausted. Finishing your meal you leaned back in your chair, resting your eyes for a few minutes while Jason stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. 

As you slowly woke up you felt your head propped up against something. You realized it was Jason when he gave you a light shake saying “Y/N while I did say you could rest on my shoulder I didn’t think it would be for half an hour, my shoulder fell asleep!” Your few minutes of rest had turned into thirty, jolting up from your position against Jason you checked your calendar realizing you’d missed a meeting. “Relax princess Tim took the meeting, you really think I’d let you sleep through another business meeting?” you snorted “yes I know you would Todd”

“You really do know me too well princess”

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Winter Whumperland Day 3: Caught

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 3. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 2 'Alone'. All alone in the middle of a forest covered by snow, Hiccup makes his escape during a trip. But what has lead up to this?

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo, Ryker

Pairing: Vigcup, past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 376

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Escape in the Snow”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: From this point on, it's going to be confusing as events will not be told in order just because of the order of the prompts. At least from Day 3 through 7. I've never done anything like this before either, so this was an interesting project to work on.

Anyway constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

@amonthofwhump

Ao3

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The Grimborn Empire is a company that focuses mostly on export and import. They have centers where trucks load and unload their wares and they have ships and containers to bring those wares to other countries overseas. There are many, many employees working under the Grimborn name.

But the headquarters, so to speak, is a tall building that stands in the city of New New Berk and that is where Viggo works.

His office is on the top floor and overlooking the city. Though quite sparse, the interior is as fancy as one would imagine and screams CEO. At the desk Viggo usually sits, his back facing the large, thick windows that make up the wall behind him.

At the moment, however, he's facing one and stands there as a slow afternoon passes. Hands clasped behind him, he watches the traffic down below.

With no work needing to be done, he's waiting for a meeting that is supposed to start in another hour or so. He has a particular disdain for waiting and doing nothing, he's just wasting precious time that could be spent on something useful.

If it wasn't so short, he would've used it alright. He would've gone by the house and see how his little pet project is doing, but alas!

So instead he has to think smaller and ponder if he should tell his assistant to grab him a coffee. He would go down to the local coffee shop he used to frequent, but the one barista he liked in that establishment is no longer working there. So he doesn't see the point in going himself.

Turning away from the view, Viggo decides that's what he's going to do. He approaches his desk with the intention to press a button on his phone to call his assistant in. She should come stumbling in seconds later like a hen without her head, rightfully in a hurry if she wants to keep her job.

But it's as he leans forward, index finger hovering over the little button of doom that she so dreads to have him use, that something on his computer screen draws his attention.

An alert? Of what? And how long has that been there?

It's a little black popup on the bottom right and it's barely noticeable. It certainly hasn't drawn his attention.

With urgency does he pull his expensive leather desk chair back. Viggo takes a seat and rolls back in, taking the mouse and clicking on it.

It appears to him that someone is on his home computer. That in itself wouldn't necessarily send an alert to his device at work, but when someone enters a certain password to gain access to a place they aren't supposed to be in, well, then Viggo likes to know who.

There is no one in the office but him, so he feels safe enough to open up an app and a different window pops up. This one allows him to see who's using his home computer. It takes him a little while to find the right one, but he finds it.

When he sees it's Hiccup, he's somehow not surprised.

A deep scowl appears on his face and Viggo growls. This isn't the first time he's caught Hiccup breaking a rule behind his back, but this is one of the worst he could've broken. That boy never learns.

How long has he been searching through his stuff? He wishes that alert came with a timestamp or something to help him see it. He isn't a tech genius, that's for sure. And does Hiccup even know what he's looking at?

He looks much too focussed, eyes quickly moving across the screen with the speed you'd expect from someone with his brain. Viggo would've been enamored if he wasn't so alarmed.

But then he's torn out of his thoughts as he sees Hiccup visibly react to something he must've found. His reaction is terrible as he visibly reels from something Viggo cannot see.

He doesn't know what it is that Hiccup's found, the feed has no sound either, but Viggo can see him quickly unravel on screen and it's a joy to see.

The quick jerk of the chair backward, the disbelief, the tears in his eyes, the telltale shaking of his shoulders as he begins to sob, following by his hand covering his mouth and then his face he folds in on himself.

It's all on-screen and that means Viggo can see him sink further and further in his breakdown.

All he does is hum thoughtfully.

"I have to say, Hiccup, whatever you must be looking at, I think you deserve it."

However, this does present him with a big problem. Hiccup isn't a fool and Viggo won't be able to tell what he's found, what he's been looking at. He doesn't have a good view of how well Hiccup is with electronics either, though that he's made it this far is certainly telling.

This is troubling. And worse is, he'll have to tell Ryker and he'll be expected to make his final decision about the boy. Because it's been much too long already and Hiccup still hasn't learned his place.

Viggo sighs in agitation and leans back in his chair, gaze still on the screen.

"Well, well, well, you've been especially troublesome, my Dear Hiccup. But now you've really forced my hand."

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

"A trip?" Hiccup cautiously asks, looking up at Viggo from his seat at the table.

There's a brochure that's been shoved into his hands. It looks like it's somewhere far away from where they live now, far away from civilization as a whole. It's of a place in the mountains, somewhere snowy. Clearly the perfect place to go when someone has a stump for a leg.

With how isolated it is, he'll still be stuck with just Viggo and Ryker. They might be counting on his leg to keep him inside and that Hiccup will know better than to wander through the woods in the freezing cold.

"Yes, a trip. It's the 20th, that means the holidays are fast approaching and I desire a break from work." Viggo tells him and Hiccup almost dares to raise an eyebrow.

Viggo? A break from work? Yeah, when pigs fly.

This just makes this whole sudden trip all the more suspicious, however. Here's the thing, this brochure isn't promoting some lodge or a resort or anything one would go to for a holiday getaway. It's one made of a fishing town by the name of Newport, using its beautiful sights as a way to lure people in.

This isn't the kind of place most people would go to when they think "vacation" and certainly not Viggo Grimborn. So what is the true purpose of this?

Maybe he should ask something first.

"So what'll happen to me?" Hiccup asks, assuming that he won't be left behind to starve.

He could order takeout, though. Make a quick getaway with the pizza courier, but that's the kind of stuff that will only happen in comedy movies. He wishes he can watch one again someday.

Hiccup wants to chuckle, but he chokes his amusement.

"You'll come along, of course. I realize you haven't been outside much," At that Hiccup can't help but give Viggo a glare. It's one that says 'you mean not at all?' But when he returns it just as strong in warning, Hiccup has to do his part and avert his gaze.

His jaw is still blue from the other day and his hand still painful and blistered from the boiling water that ended up spilling in that confrontation.

"What I was trying to tell you is that we both need new surroundings and this way I can spend more time with you." Viggo continues and Hiccup feels like what he's spouting is bull. Ryker is rolling his eyes in the background so loudly they can almost hear it.

Whenever Viggo is home, Hiccup is either one of two things; Completely neglected or clung to constantly, like he has a needy child that won't leave him alone. There is no in-between and it was particularly bad in the beginning three months of his stay.

"What happens to..." Hiccup hesitates, trying to find the right word to use. "The family cat?"

He hopes his choice of words will bring the cat in question some favor. The cat is a two-month-old kitten, one Viggo bought him as a gift when she was a month old.

Well, as a gift and as leverage.

"She'll go someplace where they can take care of her, don't worry," Viggo answers before he downs his drink. If he didn't know any better, Hiccup wouldn't have worried when he told him not to.

Hiccup looks back down at the brochure, brows knitting together in worry.

There is not one part of this that isn't suspicious and he fears what he may find on this "trip".

No, wait. Maybe this isn't as bad as he thinks.

"I... look forward to it." Hiccup tells him without a smile or anything that could possibly be mistaken for enthusiasm. He couldn't fake it even if he tried.

Viggo is displeased with this, but at least he doesn't see this as an excuse to 'discipline' him.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning. Get started on dinner and pack after." He orders him and leaves, walking away from the table.

Hiccup watches him go before his eyes move to the text on the brochure.

This trip might not be such a bad thing. Because even though he'll be spending even more time with his abusers, leaving the premise means the invisible fences keeping him in will be down. The plan he's been working on to get help from the outside is going to be ruined, but maybe that's not so bad. Maybe it's not even necessary and he can finally see an opportunity to escape.

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

If you're as rich as Viggo Grimborn, chances are that you don't take any of the conventional means of travel.

Why take a public flight if you can use your personal boat to make the trip there? And unlike with a car, you don't need to stop at a restroom for gas, food, drinks, or a restroom.

And since the brothers are aware of his mother's dragon sanctuary and his affinity for dragons, the last thing they want is to energize him by putting him on a plane and bringing him the closest to flying that he's been since they picked him off the street that faithful night.

The joke's on them, however. The breeze blowing along the shore is enough to give him that high.

That's the thing with keeping someone like him confined to the house. The smallest gust of wind will invigorate him, the feeling the Grimborn Brothers wanted to suppress most.

Hiccup is leaning over the side of the boat, knees on some leather seats, trying to catch as much of the wind as he can. It combing through his hair feels like heaven to him and it's like it's telling him that it's missed him.

Viggo scowls deeply at the display.

"You know, if you want him to stop enjoying himself so much, you should tell him why we're really here," Ryker advises his younger brother from the steering wheel.

Viggo would tell him to keep his eye on where they're headed, but instead, he looks thoughtful.

They've already left, Hiccup can do no harm here. What's the worst he can do? Throw himself overboard and make things easier for them?

Besides, he doesn't have the heart to hurt someone, the cat has proven how soft he is. While packing, Viggo had to resort to smacking him just to quieten his endless questions about the place they were sending her to while they were away.

Frighteningly enough, a yet unbroken spirit caused Hiccup to glare back at him, Viggo remembers the look well. If it could kill, he'd be dead.

After everything that's been done to him, that will to fight that he's been carefully ripping out of him piece by piece is still there. The boy bounces back quickly, a concerning thing.

But cracks have formed, cracks that made him not lash back out after that smack.

They're almost there, they've almost broken him. That's why this getaway is so important.

So Viggo approaches.

"Henry." Hiccup is torn out of his thoughts of his Bud by a name that isn't his and he tenses up immensely.

It's a cover name because unusual names like his tend to be more memorable than one as simple and common as that.

For as much trouble as his birth name has given him growing up, he prefers it greatly over whatever name Viggo has given him.

Plus, he knows it's just another method. He's changed his clothing, his eating habits, everything down to what brand he brushes his teeth and washes his hair with. So what is a name change?

"... Yes?" Still Hiccup responds, not feeling like getting hit again. The bruise on his jaw is still far from fading and there are many more beneath his clothes. His ribs hurt when he breathes too deeply. Just bruised, most likely.

But he must've not responded in the correct tone, with the correct face, or maybe he just took too long. Because he's smacked on the back of his head for whatever he's done this time. He'd flinched before it came and anger is what remains. All he knows is anger and fear and shame.

He can't remember what joy feels like.

All those negative emotions swirl inside and he has to swallow them, lest he be hurt worse and mysteriously break his wrist again. He flexes his hand on memory.

Look a certain way, sound a certain way, move a certain way, do this, do that, what Viggo wants is an obedient robot. A robot with very specific qualities and functions.

"Sit down." Viggo orders him and Hiccup listens, taking his knees off the seat and sitting down. He smooths his expression as best as he can while the older man comes down next to him.

He wants to take his hand, intertwine their fingers, but Hiccup draws his hand back. Viggo insists, taking hold and squeezing tight enough to hurt.

If he had a wish for pain, he would've squeezed back. He knows it's a game he sometimes used to do with Astrid.

And Snotlout, but that was more arm wrestling, he loves doing those. Hiccup is usually victorious in those and Snotlout is usually left with the bad taste of defeat.

Once in a while, however, he'd let him win. It always felt so good to see him smile, hear him holler in joy, watch him throw his fists in the air. That was always followed up by gloating and the flexing of his muscles, which consistently almost made Hiccup regret letting him win.

Gods, he almost forgot he used to do that. Sometimes he almost forgets he had friends at all.

Sometimes it feels good not to remember what you used to have.

"Henry!" Viggo calls him out his pleasant memories, the occasional reprieve, and tightens his grip some more.

It hurts because he's holding his left hand, which is the one covered in bandages. He can feel the burning pressure in those blisters grow.

So Hiccup quickly figures this isn't something he can win and submits quickly, loosening his hold and looking down.

In return, Viggo's hold on his hand lightens, too.

"So, Henry, you've been troublesome."

"Have I?" It's a genuine question, but it must've come out too sarcastic for Viggo's taste. A third strike and he'll be looking at another punishment.

The only reason he's so lenient now is that someone might catch them.

When he first arrived, a mere painful squeeze wasn't all it took to shut him up.

Maybe he's wrong. Maybe there was a bit of a Viking in him, too. Was, because he's very aware of how obedient he's been. He barely meets Viggo's eyes as of late, certainly not when he doesn't have permission. He hates that he can't.

"You've been troublesome." He repeats and watches for a reaction.

There isn't one, Hiccup's gaze is still downcast and that pleases him.

What he can't tell is the way his brows have furrowed. Is it anger again? Pain? Perhaps it's a mix of both. Let's just throw another pinch of shame in there as well.

"We've tried many things to make you fall in line," By trying to abuse the disobedience out of him, but Hiccup can't say that. "But you remain too stubborn. That is why we're going on this trip. This is meant as a way to finally persuade you."

"And you thought a nice trip up the mountains after everything you two have done would miraculously make me fall head over heels in love with you?" Hiccup mutters quietly under his breath, hoping he isn't heard too much.

"I'm warning you, Henry, this is your last chance." There is that name for the third time, but all Hiccup can focus on is the choice of wording.

His eyes are widened with alarm.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'last chance'? Last chance before what?" He asks. Nothing is ever just an accident with this man, that has to be on purpose and Hiccup wants to know why.

There's a beat of silence before Viggo answers, apparently wanting Hiccup to wallow in it.

"I know you've been messing with my computer. You believed I wouldn't find out, but the cameras on my property aren't just on the outside." Viggo explains and Hiccup stares at him with growing realization, caught redhanded.

"The bookcase you pick books from without permission, the bathroom while you shower, the living room where you watch your documentaries and tasteless movies, there are hidden cameras all over the house. Including on my personal computer." He continues to add and panic is about to erupt with Hiccup.

So he's been keeping watch on him from work all this time? But Viggo never punished him for breaking the rules when he wasn't home.

No leaving the house, which he never could anyway. No unauthorized snacking or drinking, not that there is anything to snack on in that house. He knows about Ryker's personal stash, but he's only stolen from there once and that wasn't without consequences. No entertainment and finish your chores, not even the books belonging to his keeper or the tv were allowed to be touched.

Those are only the rules he can count at the top of his head and Hiccup broke so many more then those. Sometimes the second Viggo left. So if there really are cameras all over the house keeping watch over him, why did he never show any knowledge of his childish rulebreaking?

His panic makes him forego the role of obedient little love.

"No, that's a lie! There are no cameras, you're just trying to get under my skin!" Hiccup shoots up, tearing his hand back. It hurts, but he cares little.

"Don't raise your voice at me, Henr-"

"Oh, stop it with that stupid name! It's Hiccup! I'm not letting you get-" While it is Hiccup who first cuts Viggo off, the latter is swift to return the favor.

He rises and backhands him with one seamless motion. Both for speaking out of turn and raising his voice. The ring on his finger cuts into his cheek.

Hiccup comes to glare at him, now silent as he holds it. He wants so badly to hit back, but knows that he can't.

He did try it once.

Once.

He sits back down and slumps forward in defeat.

"Did you honestly believe I would allow you to roam freely in my home without eyes and ears on you at all times?" The ears part is a lie, but Hiccup doesn't need to know that. Besides, Viggo feels satisfied with that look of alarm appearing on his face.

"Henry, I chose you because you were smart. Is that a lie? If it isn't, can you figure out the rest?" He asks and then leaves in a foul mood.

But yes, Hiccup can and he does.

He's telling the truth. And Viggo wouldn't be telling him all of this, disclosing the fact that he's been secretly watching him through hidden eyes all over his home, without reason him. Clearly, he's been keeping that fact to himself to reveal later when it would be of some significance and today is apparently that day.

This is Hiccup's "last chance" to fall in line. The sudden disclosure of secrets, the unexpected trip to somewhere cold and remote, putting his cat in a regular shelter for 'safekeeping' instead of one of those fancy hotels Viggo definitely has the money for...

His last chance...

If Hiccup doesn't fully submit to Viggo by the end of this trip instead of only half-submitting when he has no other choice, they're going to...

His hand falls limp to his lap, overcome with shock.

The fear has always been there. He's seen them on the news, missing persons that ended up found, but in a grave instead of alive.

If he doesn't become what they've taken him to be, they're going to kill him.

From his position at the steering wheel, having watched it all go down, Ryker smirks in delight.

"He's figured it out."

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It's not like Hiccup is surprised to learn that his situation could end this way.

When he was first abducted, woken up in a bare dimly lit room, he'd once wondered if he was the first one or if there'd been others before him. People who'd mysteriously gone missing, went through the same stuff he has, and were never found. Not alive, at least.

But to think that, that day has already arrived...

No, he shouldn't be surprised. The very fact that plenty of people have had less, much less, time than he was given, people who were taken from the streets only to end up dead the very next day, makes Hiccup feel very lucky.

But should he still worry about his fate? He's finally made his escape and he's far away from the cabin now.

They arrived not even two days ago and settled into what was supposed to be home for the next two weeks. Funny, Hiccup hasn't been home for months.

His careful planning has been all for naught. In the end, he had to work on pure impulse to get him out of trouble.

He shouldn't be proud of it and he probably won't be. There was a reason for all that planning, all that waiting and enduring. He's sure he'll regret it later, whether he manages to get away from Viggo or not.

Hiccup supposes that matters little now. He's out here, wandering through a forest covered in a layer of snow that's at least a foot thick. He's not dressed properly for the cold, wearing just a hoodie and jeans, and he's not in perfect condition either. On top of the bruises and the hand, he's gotten injured in those two days.

His upper back burns and it's been burning since their first evening in the mountains. The horrible memory attached to it wants to break free and be a hindrance in his escape. Trudging through the snow and trembling awfully, he tries not to let it.

Besides his head is pounding. He doesn't know why that is as he doesn't know exactly what happened, what knocked him out. He just knows that he blacked out and woke up with an aching head.

An aching head, a burning back, and a foot in agony. He'd dropped something on it in the confrontation that lead to his escape. Now he's using a shovel to help him limp through the trees, a shovel of which the spade has blood on it.

A lot has happened in two days. A lot. There's something he has done that he can never atone for.

His last chance has passed.

It's dark out, too, making this trip through the woods ten times harder than it already is. It's pure agony to use his broken foot, but he has no other choice but to since his left his a fake.

He can feel the pain radiating up his leg through his ankle. He's had to stop several times just to take a breather, the used air from his lungs leaving in white puffs. But each time, his will to escape triumphs over his pain and he continues to drag his way forward. Bit by bit, step by step, giving up is not an option.

And yet, there's the threat of panic erupting and stopping him. Having a stubborn will is good and all, but it's useless if he doesn't get out of here.

Sure, he got away from Viggo, but he has no idea where he's going now. His hope is to find a road or the town they docked at, but he could be heading deeper into the forest for all he knows.

If he is, then what? Will he never see his friends again? Will his parents be able to move on, will they ever have closure? Will Toothless ever be up in the air again?

Hiccup's arduous limping comes to a halt and he slowly turns to look behind him. It's only because of how strongly pure white snow contrasts against the blue-ish black of the night that he can see the trail he's left behind. If Viggo is searching for him, it won't be hard to find him.

He's shivering, clinging to the shovel that's a clumsy crutch at best, and looks at the way ahead of him. He doesn't feel hopeful, he doesn't know what exactly he feels. Nothing besides pain and a possibly very foolish drive forwards.

Whether the cold lulls him into a false sleep during his endless wandering or Viggo puts an end to his life himself, this forest will be his grave if he doesn't find his way out.

For better or for worse, it's a big enough reason to keep on pushing through the pain and keep going onwards.

[sushiandstarlight]

“Feather Duster”: NaNoWriMo 30 Days of Prompts

Today’s Prompt from @hellandholywater

Personal note: the first ~800 words are in Crowley's perspective while the rest is not. This was not a stylistic choice. I literally wrote that much of the wrong perspective before I realized my mistake. But, as this is nano, I've decided to leave it as is. *narrowly avoids the editing abyss*

Rated G

Summary: Your home is my home because my home doesn't have you.

Read this story on AO3

They spent most days following the failed apocalypse at the bookshop. Aziraphale was always happy to be amongst his books and Crowley was just happy to be where the angel was. There were countless hours spent there before the world didn't end and, when the bookshop was miraculously restored in the aftermath, they saw no reason not to enjoy it. So, dinners out. Theater, sometimes. Museums by day (to critisize the assumptions on the plaques- it was hard sometimes watching humans piece together history when they had been there, but mostly it was funny). When the sun dipped low and places of interest and amusement closed, they found their way back to the bookshop for a drink or seven and a good laugh.

Most of the time, Crowley didn't even go home. His eyes would droop and he would eventually stop laughing. He would wake in the morning to find a tattered throw blanket draped over him and an angel that didn't even mention it.

It wasn't that he hated his own flat, really. It was nice enough: modern, with amenities. Minimalist. He did visit it to water and threaten his plants. It was just that... it was cold. He hadn't furnished it to be a home, not really. It was a base. He put some of himself in it, sure, but not a lot. The other demons were constantly dropping into his life and the idea of having himself laid bare for them to see was not appealing.

The bookshop, on the other hand, was like being surrounded by Aziraphale. 

The books- “in a very particular order, Crowley, honestly!”- and the trinkets collected- “there's nothing wrong with keeping material objects that remind you of things!” all around. Everything was imbued with meaning and memory and knowledge. It was an extension of himself. For Crowley, there was nothing more comforting than being with Aziraphale, surrounded by all the things Aziraphale loved. It made him feel like part of the collection, something treasured and sat on a shelf all his own. He felt worn and used and a bit dusty, but here he was wanted, treasured even, for those things.

“Why don't we go to your flat today?” Aziraphale didn't even look up at him, peering through the tiny spectacles on his nose at the book in his lap.

“What for?” Crowley tried to keep his voice flat, but incredulity crept in anyway.

“Well, we've spent plenty of time here and I've enjoyed that immensely... But, it doesn't have to be all about my comfort. We can spend time in your home, too. Surely, there are things you have been neglecting there to be here with me,” he glanced up and met Crowley's eyes and then back down at the book, “unless there's some reason you don't want me there. I wouldn't want to intrude on your space.”

“Neh, no. There's not- Angel, you're always welcome in my spaces,” the sentence, if it could be called that, came out wrong. He could make sentences, really he could. Just. Maybe not always with his angel. His. Hmm. And, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? It was all good and well to dwell in Aziraphale's world. That's how they had always done things. Crowley visited Aziraphale's life. Popped in and out. He was a fixture there. But, Aziraphale rarely visited his world. That had once been a purposeful choice on his part, to keep the angel safe. There was no real reason for that, now, was there? It made Crowley wonder if he'd had other reasons all along, buried under all that protective instinct. Though really, he admitted to himself, he didn't need to wonder. His home might not be quite the extension of himself that Aziraphale's was, but it was still his home and it would speak about him, he was sure, in ways he wasn't even aware.

“That settles it, then,” Aziraphale smiled down at the book, eyes still scanning as he spoke, “we'll head over after lunch. A little bistro opened up just down the street from there and I've been positively dying to try their soup- I've heard such good things!” He turned the page, absolutely unaware of all the turmoil going on over on the couch across from him.

“Okay, Angel,” because when had he ever had an ounce of will to deny him anything he asked for, “after lunch then.” Crowley sunk down into the sofa cushions and wondered when he'd last even considered cleaning his flat.

-

Normally, Crowley would be watching him enjoy his soup. It seemed a strange thing to miss, but here he was missing it. Crowley was preoccupied with staring at the table between them, somewhere between the salt and pepper shakers and the napkin holder. Aziraphale had tried to draw him out a few times, mentioning how good the soup was. What was in it that made it so good. The yelp reviews that he had read. The one he was planning to write tonight. Usually Crowley hung on his words, but he wasn't right now. It seemed a selfish thing to want, but it was their normal.

“Ready to go to mine, then?” Still, Crowley smiled at him as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Maybe he was just having a quiet kind of day.

“Yes, of course!”

-

The trip from the bistro to Crowley's flat wasn't long- less than five minutes- but the quiet was a bit strained. Aziraphale sat with his satchel (full of a few choice books to pass the time) clutched in his lap and wondered, for the first time, if Crowley really didn't want him in his home. But, surely he would have said when Aziraphale asked, right? Maybe not.

The elevator up was just as quiet and he followed Crowley down the hall from there, watched the demon wave the locks open and then went in when he was ushered with a hand on the small of his back.

“Er, make yourself at home, Angel,” Crowley shifted from foot to foot for a moment, “tea? Something stronger than tea?”

“Yes, perhaps a bit stronger,” Aziraphale put his satchel down beside Crowley's sofa and sat, deciding immediately that it was chosen for it's looks and not for comfort. In for a penny, he thought, he would make do. He was becoming stubbornly fixated on making Crowley feel accepted in his own space.

The demon returned with two tumblers of whiskey and handed one to him, taking a gulp from his and wincing as it went down.

“Should I come sit with you here, then?” Crowley didn't look very enamored with the idea. Perhaps, Aziraphale thought, because he was absolutely aware of how uncomfortable this sofa was. He wiggled down into the unforgiving cushions and smiled.

“You can if you like, but I can entertain myself. I'm sure there are things you need to tend to, yes? You're not here much. You sit on my furniture while I organize my books. Just... do whatever you would do if I wasn't here.

Crowley stared at him for a moment and then nodded slowly and shrugged, downing what was left in his glass and then turning and walking out of the room. Aziraphale listened and heard the sound of spray bottle in the other room. Then some disgruntled grumbling about leaf spots. There, see? They could cohabitate in Crowley's space. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a book. Turning to the page with a ribbon holding his place, he slipped on his spectacles and started reading.

-

He heard Crowley putter around the atrium for a while, and then further away in the kitchen. For a time, he heard nothing and wondered if the demon had crawled into bed for a nap. That would certainly be acting like no one was there. But then he head more puttering in the atrium and Crowley reappeared.

He had changed his clothes. That was something Aziraphale had not been expecting. A deep blue hoodie and a pair of worn, black sweats. And he'd removed his shoes and replaced them with fuzzy blue socks. They looked ridiculously soft. Aaaand, he realized he was staring. Dragging his eyes back to the book in his lap, he pretended to keep reading. No reason that Crowley should know this move had made him... what, exactly? Nervous? Excited, maybe? Confused, certainly. Curious, yes.

Crowley never let anyone see him- even Aziraphale- in less than impeccable clothing choices, the kind that somehow looked both expensive and also thrown together. This was Crowley being actually comfortable. How... how was seeing LESS of him somehow more fetching than when he wore the skin-tight trousers and shirts?

He turned a page, thinking it would probably be good timing for that. Really, he hadn't read any of it. He glanced up just in time for Crowley to cross in front, back turned to him. His eyes were immeditatly drawn to the feather duster that was tucked into the top of his joggers. It... wiggled when he walked, making the feather sway with his hips.

“Alright there, Angel?” Crowley was plucking up the feather duster and flicking it along the painting on his wall.

Aziraphale just stared. He could feel his jaw hanging down, but there didn't seem to be a thing he could do about it. Crowley stopped when he felt the silence and walked back over to him, standing over the sofa.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“... fan worms.”

Crowley was staring at him blankly.

“They're, uh, well they're oceanic filter feeders. Nice big fans that spread out and catch little things floating around in the water. Very clever way to keep the oceans clean, I think...”

“Did you miracle your glass full while I was cleaning the other rooms?”

“What? No!”

“I mean it's one thing when I'm spouting off about kraken and dolphins, but what are you going on about filter feeders for?”

“I'm a bit nervous!”

Crowley stared some more then, “since when do you talk about- wait, what have you got to be nervous for?” He was standing with his hands on his hips, feathers still floating around the hand holding the duster.

“Well, right now it's that you're towering over me asking me lots of questions!”

Crowley looked struck for a moment and then he laughed. He sat down on the other end of the sofa, angling towards him, feather duster now laying across his right thigh. He ripped his eyes away from the feather duster and back up to Crowley's face.

“Is this better?”

“Is what better?”

“Are you absolutely sure you didn't fill the glass a few more times? It's okay if you did, I just need to catch up.”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. Maybe this was all a terrible idea. He wasn't sure how he could have seen it going this way, but he should have. Somehow. He shook his head slowly.

“Do you just... not like it here?”

“What? Of course I like it here.”

“Aziraphale, here is nothing like the places you enjoy inhabiting.”

“It is, too!”

“Angel, it's uncomfortably warm in here for anyone who's not me. It's spotless and I'm making it moreso at the moment because I clean when I'm nervous- nono, this is about you!- it's spartan, to say the least and the only books in sight are the ones that you brought. What is it about this place that would make you want to be here? I hardly want to be here and it's my home.”

“Why wouldn't you want to be in your own home?” Aziraphale watched Crowley as the man looked away from him.

“I asked you first.”

“Well, I asked you second.”

“That doesn't count!” Crowley picked up the feather duster and shook it at him.

“I just...” Aziraphale sighed, “I'm not used to seeing you in this state of undress.” He could feel his cheeks heating up and he tried to suppress it. His capillaries would not listen.

“My...” Crowley's jaw worked for a moment, hanging open and then closed and then hanging open again, “I'm wearing more than I usually do when we're out, though.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale toyed with his own fingers nervously, “but you look so comfortable, dear. I'm not used to you looking comfortable, I think. Your fashion isn't built for it.”

“I could change.”

“I wish you wouldn't.” The words were out before he could stop them. He kind of wished he could grab them from the air and eat them. His face was flaming now and his ears had joined in the game.

“Hmm, you're not nervous because you dislike my clothing,” Crowley leaned toward him, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “does that mean you do like them?”

“Oh, stop.”

“You like me dressed down?”

“Crowley, really.”

“You're always so layered and buttoned up, I wouldn't have thought.”

“You look... snuggly.”

There was another stunned silence in which Aziraphale was sure his face found a whole new, heretofore unknown, shade of red to turn.

“You want to snuggle with me?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You're also not denying it.”

“... no, I suppose I'm not.”

“You could, you know.”

“Co-could do what?” The air was getting a little thin, he was sure of it. Definitely not enough air in this room.

“Snuggle up with me.”

“You,” Aziraphale chanced a glance at him, “you would like that?”

“From you? Yeah, I think so. You pretty much look snuggly all the time.”

“Well, that's... something.”

“Maybe not here, though.”

“Oh, you really don't like me being here, do you? Do be honest with me.”

“Already told you, Angel, I don't much like it here. I would rather be at your shop with you.”

“But it's not as warm.”

“You have blankets.”

“And it's dusty and cluttered and there's a television but it's decades old. I don't even have the internet.”

“I mean, I'm pretty much used to all those things... But the things aren't why I like it there better than here.”

Aziraphale stared at him. He could feel the shoe about to drop, he just wasn't sure what brand it was.

“You,” Crowley said, “I like it there because you're there. And it's your space. You're happiest in your space. I'm happy if you're happy.”

Aziraphale continued to stare, digesting that.

“Also, you're furniture is way more comfortable to use than mine.”

“This is a dreadful couch.”

“Hey! It looked good in the magazine.”

“Crowley, would you like to take me home? And stay... with me?”

“Will there be snuggling involved?”

“If you want.”

“Yes, Angel,” Crowley's smile was lopsided and filled with warmth, “I think I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.”

Previous Ficlet Prompts:

Scarf / Family / Hearth / Frosty / Ribbons / Wrapping / Cardinal / Coal / Unwrap / Blustery

[alirhi]

chapter 17!

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 17/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: nada. Well... Ali attempting comedy. I suppose that requires its own special warning lmao Notes: Loki's just so done lol

"I hate this plan, Thor."

"Yes, I heard you the first dozen times."

"This is the dumbest idea you could possibly have come up with!"

"We could always try Get Help."

"And use it on whom, pray tell?!"

"Thanos."

"Don't be an idiot." Privately, Loki thought he might as well be asking the Earth to cease its tireless spin, but he had to try.

Thor only smirked at him, the bastard. "Just keeping things in perspective. There's always room for a worse plan."

"...Thank you."

"What's Get Help?" Bucky didn't even glance up from the little device in his hand. Ever mindful of the terrain and unwilling to see him mess up his pretty face by falling on it, Loki was constantly moving things out of his distracted lover's path just before he tripped.

"Nothing, darling. Has Darcy sent you another?"

He grinned, holding the thing – Darcy swore it was a telephone when she gave it to him, though he'd yet to see it used for a single call – out for Loki to see. "She sent a video!"

Eira was on the screen, splashing about in a tub that appeared to contain more bubbles than water. She was having the time of her life, and both of her enamored parents couldn't help smiling like fools.

"I hate being away from her."

Loki winced, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I know. Believe me, love, I know. But she isn't safe around these people. Better to leave her in Darcy's care until we can be sure she isn't in any danger."

"I still can't quite believe I'm a dad!" At the pure joy and wonder in his voice and on his beautiful face, his ancient lover smiled again. He still had a long way to go before he was truly recovered from what HYDRA had done to him, but it couldn't be denied that when he was happy, Bucky was the cutest damned thing.

"I still think you're overreacting," Thor grumbled as they stepped off the elevator at last. "These are good people. They'd never harm a little girl."

"Uh... Loki's not in chains. Why is Loki here and not in chains? Security!"

The God in question rolled his eyes. "Lovely to see you again, too, Stark."

Tony looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh, vomit, or jump into one of his suits of armor. "What the hell is this, Point Break? You promised this psycho would be in a cell for the rest of eternity. And who's the weirdo staring at his phone?"

"...Bucky?!"

Thor stopped before he'd even truly begun to offer the explanation he didn't really have, mouth hanging open and one finger in the air. Confused, he and Loki watched silently as Steve Rogers practically flew across the room and Bucky slowly lifted his head, finally taking in his surroundings for the first time since they'd left New Mexico.

"Steve?" He grinned and pocketed the phone immediately to throw his arms around his friend. "Steve! Holy shit, it is you!"

"Who is Bucky?" Thor mumbled to Loki, getting an exasperated eye roll for his troubles.

He knew, of course; when they'd first met, the handsome young soldier had introduced himself as Bucky. Loki had simply refused to call him that. Still, prior knowledge or no, he couldn't resist having just a bit of fun with his brother, so he decided, in lieu of a proper explanation, to treat it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, just to hammer home how incredibly stupid Thor truly was. "I would imagine, given the context playing out before your clearly useless eyes, that it's a pet name for James. Derived from his middle name – Buchanan – if I had to guess. Honestly, Thor, how do you function?"

"Can someone please address the unfettered genocidal psychopath standing in my living room?"

Bucky flinched, moving back from Steve and giving Tony a slightly helpless look. "That was... I was under HYDRA's thumb, I was never a Nazi..."

"Not you, darling," Loki assured him stepping between the two newly thawed WWII veterans, and more importantly, between Bucky and the confused, wary Avengers. "He's referring to me."

"Wait, what?" Steve peered around him, trying unsuccessfully to catch his childhood friend's downcast gaze. "That's where you've been all this time? With HYDRA?"

"I didn't have a choice," he mumbled, face going red as he seemed to sink into himself.

"Quite literally," was Loki's frosty interjection. He pushed the soldier back when he got too close to his Sergeant and snapped, "If anyone wishes to interrogate or criticize him, I will happily transform you into something that cannot speak nor breathe."

"Just turn yourself into an elephant," Tony snapped. "Because you are the elephant in the room right now! Thor, explain to me why your insane adopted brother and his pet Nazi are in my home!"

"I was never a Nazi!"

"I've known Bucky all my life, Stark. There's no way he'd have joined up with those people."

"Nazis, HYDRA, what's the difference?!"

"Soldat?"

All eyes immediately turned to Natasha as she approached and finally got a good look at the man Loki was trying so hard to shield. Loki grimaced. "Oh. You."

Bucky flinched, looking as though she'd just slapped him. "Natalia, please don't call me that. It's Bucky, okay?"

"Sure, yeah." She laughed, launching herself at him. "And it's Natasha now."

Her arms over his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist were more than Loki could bear. When he noticed that Bucky was holding her up with both hands cupping her rear, he'd more than had enough. With a growl, he used magic to pry her loose and pin her to the ceiling. "That is quite enough, Agent Romanov. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make me tell you again."

"Put her down, Loki." Oh, great. There was Banner, eyes wide like a frightened rabbit, but approaching him nonetheless. "Before I let the other guy put you down again."

"Doctor Banner," he ground out as he slowly and more than a little reluctantly set the struggling spy down on the floor. "Delightful. Well, I see the gang's all here. Thor, this was your harebrained scheme, so why don't you clean up this mess?"

"Happily," Thor muttered, "if you'll stop making a bigger one."

"No promises. The next person to lay hands on James will be a smear of blood and innards on the wall."

"Loki, calm down." Hugging him from behind, Bucky murmured in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

Making no effort at all to prevent the Avengers from hearing him, Loki snapped, "I don't trust these people."

"For the record," Natasha pointed out, "we're not the ones who tried to blow up New York a week ago."

He smirked. "Nor am I, Agent Romanov. That was someone on your side, if you recall."

"The Chitauri?"

"Oh, that. I thought you were referring to the bomb." A little, dismissive shrug, and then, "Most of the damage to the city was still done by you lot. The Chitauri were mostly just...flying around."

"Also trying to kill people."

"Loki needs our help," Thor called out, just loud enough to drown out any further conversation. The Avengers all gaped at him as though he'd gone mad. It made Loki smile. "There was another force behind the attacks last week. Someone far worse was pulling Loki's strings-"

"Really, Thor, I'm not a puppet!"

"Unless you want to explain this yourself and hope any of them listen to a word that comes out of your weaselly mouth instead of simply killing you, sit down and shut up, brother."

"Marionette, anyway." When everyone turned to stare at him, Bucky blushed. "The-the ones with strings. That's marionettes, not puppets."

With a patient smile, Steve gently chided him, "Not really the time, Buck."

"...Right. Sorry. Continue not bothering to listen to each other. I'll be over here." Out came the phone, and Bucky was lost to them all as he scrolled through pictures of Eira again.

"What's with the phone?" Loki flinched and turned; he hadn't realized Barton was in the room until then. "Isn't he a little old to be sucked into that thing while we're all talking?"

"He's looking at photographs of their daughter," Thor told him with a dismissive wave of his hand, ignoring the death glare he received from Loki for it. "Now, if we can get back on-"

"...Their daughter?" Tony interrupted, stepping forward. "I'm sorry... Who's the other half of the 'they' in that equation?"

When Thor opened his mouth to explain, Loki grabbed his arm and squeezed hard enough to make him gasp. "I will kill you."

"And then they will kill you, and the world will end when there's no one to warn them about Thanos, and James and Eira will be left unprotected, likely to suffer horribly and die."

With a frustrated growl, Loki released him and, briefly, shifted to his female form. "I am, alright? Everyone's burning curiosity satisfied?" Shifting back, he took advantage of the stunned silence that had taken hold of the room and snapped, "There is a mad Titan with the ability to mind-control a God out there attempting to collect the most powerful artifacts in the universe, and while he declined to share the purpose of this venture with me during my captivity, I find myself seriously doubting that it involves giving everyone their own kitten. Now, can we focus, please?!"

Banner frowned. "Who did he mind-control?"

"How?!" He was beginning to get a stupidity-induced headache. Hands flying up in a wide gesture to the room at large, Loki looked at Thor and demanded, "How is it you think these people can possibly help?"

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #13- Swerve Doesn’t Have Any Friends

Okay, let’s go ahead and get this out of the way.

It’s a FUCKING SPORTS BRA AND RUNNING SHORTS ALEX.

And don’t think I don’t see that friggin’ cleavage alien back there. You ain’t slick.

I’m going to make it a law that all comic book artists learn how to draw clothes that don’t vacuum-seal themselves to women’s bodies. Milne gets six months for this infraction alone, and Roche gets a year for the initial bra crime he committed back in Last Stand. Learn how women’s underwear works, you ninnies.

Our issue opens up with Swerve stretching his radio personality muscles.

Oh, Guido Guidi, whisk me away to flights of fancy!

Our artist for this issue is none other than Guido Guidi, ascended from fanwork to deliver us from evil with his near-superhuman ability to emulate other artists’ styles and just make things look really pretty. He was responsible for the mythos pages in the 2012 Annual, AKA the best part. He also filled in on some of the art for Last Stand of the Wreckers, not that I really noticed because he’s just that good.

Swerve lets Blurr know that while it might have looked like the Lost Light had exploded, thus killing everyone onboard back in issue #1, that isn’t actually what happened. I’m glad someone filled in the Cybertronian populace on that.

I was never great at math, but those speech bubbles might be phoning it in a bit.

Swerve says that he’s having a great time on the quest, despite all the hiccups, and we get an explanation for why this long-range communications system hasn’t been seen prior to this point. It’s been broken for a while- most likely due to the quantum jump that started the series off with a bang- but Blaster managed to get it running again. Good job, Blaster. With this little setup for our framing device out of the way, we get into the meat of the story.

Swerve is being nosey about things that weren’t any of his business, happening in a closed off room, when Drift drags him down the hall and hid him away for safety. Swerve doesn’t much appreciate being manhandled, but there’s a method to the madness here.

Drift’s nose has vacated the premises once again, so we’re just going to have to deal with that. And how shapely does one have to be to be known as “the guy with the legs”? I mean, Drift is RIGHT THERE.

Drift uses his own powerful legs to kick down the door to Cyclonus and Tailgate’s room. It turns out that the horrific screaming wasn’t the sound of a murder or sexual relations taking place, but rather that of Cyclonus singing in Old Cybertronian.

My god, he’s completely enamored with this unrepentant murder machine.

We are just all up in Cyclonus’ grill for this panel. Nothing but lips. Was this specified in the script? Because it feels like it might have been specified in the script.

Old Cybertronian, or the Primal Vernacular as some might call it, was last seen in general when Rodimus channeled the will of the trapped Titan all across Tailgate’s chest. It was last seen spoken when we met Vos, the terrible murder gremlin who turns into a gun and uses his face to cause puncture trauma.

Comic books are wild, y’all.

Now that we’ve established that no one’s being killed, Drift goes back to what he was doing earlier, with Swerve deciding to tag along because he’s horrifically lonely. He invites Drift to come room up with him, because I guess if you’re going to sell off your comatose roommate’s bed out from under him, you might as well go for the guy who’s third in command,  is probably one of the hottest guys on the ship, and slices people into chunky salsa if they try anything funny.

Drift politely declines, and awkwardly removes himself from the conversation when Swerve doesn’t take the hint, returning to his sword lesson with Rodimus.

Oh thank god, the obnoxiously pink room is back.

Ultra Magnus bursts into the room, appalled by the actions of his fellow crew members. Some of his concerns are well-placed. Others, well…

Is- is that another friggin’ retainer on those lower teeth? Why does this design choice keep showing up?

So Magnus has imprisoned roughly a third of the ship at this point, and Rodimus suggests he take a chill pill. Magnus doesn’t even know what a chill pill even is, so we’re forced to make use of our most dangerous weapon- the threat of a good time, courtesy of Swerve.

The fact that Ultra Magnus hasn’t reduced Swerve to an oil stain on the floor is genuinely astounding. The guy has zero respect for bureaucracy or proper business management. It has been MONTHS, you dinky little man, get your act together as a business owner.

Swerve takes the bribe, and soon everyone’s shipping off to Hedonia, where the drinks are plentiful and the women… well, most of the Lost Lighters don’t even know what a woman is, so that aspect doesn’t really come into play. Thanks, Furman.

Also, Rung’s back to normal. Don’t worry about it, not a big deal.

Swerve isn’t having much luck on his Roommate Quest, as Tailgate spurns his advances, stating that he’s good kicking it with Cyclonus, mainly because they’re both old as shit.

I see we haven’t quite hit the threshold on the “Cyclonus is allowed to have friends now” meter. Give it a few more issues, I’m sure we’ll get there.

Man, zero for two for Swerve on trying to get a hot roommate. Maybe third time’s a charm?

Rodimus pops into the back of the shuttle to remind everyone that their entire race is more or less despised by the entire galaxy, and to play it safe by using their holomatter avatars.

The revamp by Brainstorm and Rung is truly a blessing, because the avatars in IDW were awful to look at up to this point.

Y’all, that is HOT ROD. Jesus wept.

Getting back to Tailgate’s questionable taste in companionship, Tailgate asks if Swerve and Blurr connected right away. Swerve gives him an affirmative, then starts listing off the guy’s racing stats until Ultra Magnus plops down between the two of them, drawn in by the melodious sound of statistics.

Magnus is having a hard time relaxing, but he’s giving it his best, and I think that’s very commendable of him. It’s hard trying new things.

On the surface of Hedonia, it would appear the B-Movies are having a Pride event in the entertainment district.

Okay, moment of truth- show us those avatars!

Oh thank god, they aren’t totally hideous. Though, isn’t Rewind old as shit? I guess youth is a state of mind. Still, I can’t believe we missed out on silver fox Rewind.

Rung’s line is in response to folks at the time claiming that Rung was a self-insert character, which is interesting, because we’ve already seen what a self-insert looks like when it’s Roberts doing the inserting, and we’ve also seen his Mary Sues.

Rung, while an original character who had appeared in Roberts’ pre-professional works (a single line of text in Eugenesis, where he was a psychiatry play-on-words), he isn’t what I’d consider a Mary Sue. Mary Sues are usually stunningly beautiful, beloved by their peers, insanely talented in ways that no other character is, and typically have some sort of connection to another character that more or less forces them into the story despite not needing to exist.

Mary Sues don’t get their friggin’ heads exploded, or exist in a constantly-forgettable state. Sure, he’s the only therapist we’ve ever seen in the Transformers franchise, but there was kind of a massive need for that sort of character to be created, seeing as all of these sons of guns have PTSD and clinical depression. And, as we’ve seen in previous issues and will continue to see later on, he’s really not even that great at it.

That isn’t to say that he doesn’t have certain traits befitting such a characterization, merely that they don’t add up to equal that sort of whole by issue #13. Transformers (2009)-era Drift is way closer to a true Mary Sue than Rung is.

Anyway, where the hell did Tailgate get to?

They really just let Frodo Baggins in this bar all babybjörned up, huh? Does Tailgate even know what a baby even is at this point? Does he just think he’s a very small person? How much human media has he consumed? We haven’t gotten into the reproductive process for the continuity yet, but fresh Cybertronians aren’t exactly a one-to-one to human infants. Damn it, Roberts, what the fuck am I supposed to make of Babygate?

Whirl’s off in the corner, disguised as a 12-year old girl who’s fucking STRAPPED. Magnus has disappeared, but Rewind locates him pretty easily as Rung makes a comment about Magnus needing to make an appointment with him.

Oh hey, Verity. Been a minute. Careful, ol’ six-eyes over there is leering at you.

The fellas come back to the bar as they truly are, and sit down for a round of drinks. Whirl gets Ultra Magnus a drink that sounds disturbingly like a Cybertronian equivalent to Milk Coke, and we get a little anatomy lesson. Transformers have something called a Fuel Intake Moderation chip, something that keeps them from getting drunk on pretty much the only thing they can consume. Swerve suggests Magnus turn his off so he can have a good time- which I don’t personally agree with, but this is Captain Stick-in-the-Mud we’re talking about here. Magnus gives it a shot.

And that’s a series wrap on Ultra Magnus!

No, the man’s just got no tolerance and has been knocked the hell out by his drink. Things begin devolving. Tailgate is crying. Skids has found out that Whirl didn’t give Magnus Milk Coke at all, but instead the equivalent of liquid cocaine. Swerve is convinced he’s going to prison. Rewind is filming the whole thing.

Nobody actually checks to see if Magnus is actually dead, until Rung gets around to it. Swerve, you’re a doctor by original trade, what the hell are you doing?

The boys sit Magnus at the table to wait out his nap. Hours later, nothing’s changed, except that they’ve started up the nemesis game, and Whirl’s decided he’s going to be rude about monoformers being monoformers. Rung gives a non-answer, because that’s just who he is as a person. Skids names Misfire as his worst enemy, only because he’s still missing a good chunk of memory and can’t remember if he had a worst enemy, but still wants to contribute to the conversation.

Rung, don’t be a dick, he did his best. You were right on top of Fort Max, it was a tricky shot.

Ultra Magnus finally starts waking up, and that’s the point where everyone decides to foot Swerve with the bill for the emotional labor he’s going to have to perform by explaining just what the friggity-frack happened.

Magnus starts laughing, then crying, then offloads his troubles onto Swerve. Magnus feels like he just doesn’t fit in on the Lost Light. He’s just trying to do his job and everyone makes fun of him, or disrespects his authority. He’s trying, he really is, but he’s just not built for post-war life. He’s actually tried to leave his position on the Lost Light, but they just keep pulling him back in.

Probably doesn’t help that Rodimus seems more interested in Drift’s opinion on matters than his own SIC half the time.

Oh no, he’s making digs at the things Swerve’s sensitive about. Where is Rung?

Magnus just wants to be understood, y’know? He’s a fully realized creation. He’s got interests. Like music! And the fact that Swerve is missing his Autobot badge!

This was the point where MTMTE was still bouncing back and forth on whether it wanted to commit to the crotch badge. It was a tumultuous time for everyone, very dark days.

WHERE THE FUCK IS RUNG

Magnus, having had enough of sharing his feelings, takes another sip of his cocaine and slips back into unconsciousness. Swerve admits to his limp body that people don’t actually like him, but rather only stick around because of what he can offer- namely, a good time.

The rest of the Swerve posse comes back, with Cyclones having joined the party. Rung shows off his new model ship, which gets Rewind started on his movie collection. He pulls up the opening ceremony for the Ark 1. Y’know, the Ark 1, that ship that Cyclonus was on that disappeared into the Dead Universe for six million years. The Ark 1 that Tailgate was supposed to be on.

Before we can get started however, someone throws the model at Rewind’s head.

That someone is none other than Cyclonus, who proceeds to fly into a rage, throwing tables and shoving the still-unconscious Ultra Magnus to the floor. My word, what a reaction! What could possibly be setting him off so much? Does he not like being reminded of his fated trip to the stars? Is this a manifestation of trauma from that event?

Who knows? No time for questions, Skids is too busy punching him in the face.

Tailgate intervenes, explaining that because Cyclonus and himself are so goddamn old, the engex Cyclonus consumed is wreaking havoc on his body. He tells the rest of them to go on while he tries to calm Cyclonus down. Interesting that Rewind doesn’t have any sort of input on this, given that he is also super fucking old, but there’s no time for questions! We’ve got to get Ultra Magnus back on the shuttle in the next 20 minutes, or else they’ll be stuck on Hedonia FOREVER.

They start throwing Magnus on the floor repeatedly, trying to get his t-cog to spin up. No dice, however.

It’s 4AM. Do you know where your Domey is? Because Rewind sure as hell doesn’t.

Okay, time for Plan B.

I’m guessing not, Rung. I’m guessing not.

Using Magnus as a trampoline does the trick, and the boys are rewarded with the sight of Magnus’ alt-mode… resting on its roof, upside down. They get him sorted, pile in the cab- Rewind is driving, which leads me to believe he at least has some experience handling a vehicle. Chromedome does turn into a car…

I don’t even know what that sort of activity implies for a Transformer. We won’t go any further down this line of thought.

The boys manage to get Ultra Magnus to the shuttle in time, and all’s well that ends well!

This is about the time that Blaster knocks on the glass at Swerve to wrap things up, seeing as he’s been at this for over nine hours now. There’s one last little aside before we’re done with our story, however, and it involves just what happened in the bar after everyone else left.

Cyclonus calmed down almost immediately after the rest of the guys left, paying for what he broke and inviting Tailgate to have a seat.

Well, I say invite, but it’s really more of an order.

If you’d already figured out at this point that this jumpy little marshmallow was lying about being the biggest badass who ever lived, a gold star for you! It turns out, dear Tailgate has been crafting a fabrication, spinning a yarn, telling a tall tale since Day One on the Lost Light. The story has been feeding us a steady diet of fish the whole time!

Red herring!

Red herring!

Red herring of Tailgate’s own design! Autopedia’s mods are a friggin’ joke.

Tailgate was supposed to be a the Ark 1 launch, but it was because he was on the cleanup crew. Boy’s a sluicer, and his arm SHOULD say "waste disposal”. Through a cunning use of his wits and cold reading, Tailgate faked his way through the dismantling of the bomb on Temptoria. A smart boy, he is, if not a bit self-centered.

Which brings us to why exactly Cyclonus freaked out in the bar: he wasn’t having an episode, but rather faking a reaction to prevent Tailgate’s lie from being exposed. He still thinks that Tailgate should come clean about this whole thing, before things get really messy, but it wouldn’t be an issue of MTMTE without some raw-ass emotions getting thrown about.

Cyclonus, who hasn’t allowed himself to feel anything other than simmering rage or national pride for over six million years, is beginning to feel something for Tailgate.

That feeling is sympathy, and maybe a little pity.

He offers to teach Tailgate a song to help him feel better, because that’s what he does when he has feelings.

And given that Cyclonus seems to sing often enough that Tailgate’s gotten used to the horrific sound, it might be that Cyclonus has feelings a hell of a lot more often than he lets on.

Roberts, how many times are you going to make Tailgate cry? How much pain are you going to subject him to before you’re satisfied?

The scene closes out on the two of them getting their karaoke on in the empty bar, in the god-awful language that is Old Cybertronian. I can only imagine that they get kicked out of the bar pretty quickly after this.

Getting back to the present, Swerve has finally, finally finished his story, closing out with an invitation for Blurr to come visit Swerve’s.

Blaster gets ready to shoot one hell of a voice message at Blurr, but there’s a problem; the number Swerve has isn’t long enough to be a personal hailing frequency.

Yeah, turns out that Tailgate isn’t the only liar on board the Lost Light.

Four million years ago, Swerve met Blurr at a publicity event, got way too friendly with a celebrity, pestered the guy until he gave him a fake number, and has convinced himself that he made a life-long friend to this very day.

Big oof.

Later, back at Swerve’s, Swerve is busy cleaning the glassware when Ultra Magnus comes in, sober and having just gotten out of surgery to fix his fuel tanks. Guess that second sip of Nucleon really wasn’t a good idea.

Swerve tries to tell a lie about what happened the night before, only to have the dawning horror that Magnus remembered the entire night, as he’s presented with a new badge. Swerve, bolstered by the fact that, while Magnus didn’t enjoy the previous evening, he appreciated having company, begins to ask Magnus if he’d want to room with him.

Wow, zero for three! That’s rough, buddy.

Kind of a bummer end to this whole issue, but it was still decently light, tone-wise, for MTMTE. A great deal of fun was had, in between all the mortifying reveals of our characters inner demons.

...Well, shit.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 63

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

  With a late afternoon rain came a break in the oppressive humidity; a much cooler breeze appearing as the sun began to set.   The four oldest are already tucked into bed;  satisfied and content after daddy obliged every request for ‘just one more story’ and they were spoiled with seemingly endless cuddles, hugs, and kisses.  So relaxed and secure knowing that he’s under the same room that sleep came easily to all of them; worn out from not only the excitement of him showing up unexpectedly, but then spending every waking moment of the rest of the day vying for his attention. Constantly talking over one another, fighting over who go to sit on his shoulders when they showed him the animals, squabbling over who got to be beside him at dinner. It’s only been four days since they’d seen him at the airport, but it may as well have been a lifetime to them; ten minutes not nearly enough to erase the ache in their little hearts or the feeling of loneliness inside of them.

While not exactly a constant fixture in their lives at times because of the job and its unpredictability, he’d always been a hands-on father; starting right from the moment they found out there was a baby -or babies, in this twins’ case- on the way. Attentive and loving and even more protective than usual; determined to keep both her and the life inside of her as safe, secure, and healthy as possible. Feeling pride and wonder that he’d even been given the chance to be a father again; able to create life and nurture it when in all aspects, he should have died that day on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.  Every one of the pregnancies...everyone of the kids...serving as reminders of not only  just how lucky he’d gotten that  day, but that someone who’d made the mistakes and the bad decisions he’d had could still be worthy enough to be a dad once more.  And he’s always been determined to be the best one he can possibly be; wanting to not only right all previous wrongs, but to prove that he could be a better man -and husband and father- than his old man had tried to teach him to be.  Loving his children with every shred of his being and devoting himself to every aspect of their care and upbringing; even things as simple and mundane as  changing diapers or giving them bottles or at the very least bringing to her for a feed.

As the first three got older, he took on new challenges and changes to guide them and help shape them for their futures.   Whether it be something as profound as encouraging them to be compassionate and accepting and loving, or something as ‘normal’ as teaching them to surf and play soccer or even learning how to braid his little girl’s hair. No task too big or too small. Never complaining about being woken up in the middle of the night or hesitating when it comes to both showing affection and receiving it. And as corny and as sappy as it sounds, Esme realizes just how fortunate she really is; having someone that is willing to do it all without having to even be asked. She’s heard plenty of horror stories from the moms at school; tales of lazy and useless husbands that complain about even a half an hour spent for their children. Always able to brag about him and then able to go  home knowing how she ‘lucked out’. Somehow, even during the craziest and possibly scariest time of her, managing to find the best possible person -and partner- to have a family with.

She stands by the open door of the balcony that leads off the bedroom she’d been ‘assigned to’. Both watching and listening to him as he lays flat on his back on  a two person lounge chair with Addie on his chest; her tiny fists curled tightly around his index fingers as she alternates between raising her head and resting her chin against him.  Those  enormous dark eyes never leaving his face and  a happy -and completely genuine- smile taking over her face every time he talks to her; the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose crinkling. He changes when he’s with her. In the same way he had with all the others when they were babies.   This big, tough, strong man suddenly so gentle; his voice softer and calmer. Deeper, even. Enamored with her in the same way she is with him; his own eyes sparkling and crinkling and his own smile both testament to the fact that he finds her a complete wonder. Not quite believing that she really exists; questioning what he could have possibly done to deserve her.

He’s a wonder himself. So brave and fearless and capable of inflicting so much pain and suffering, yet possessing so much tenderness and love.  It would be so easy for him to be jaded and broken; to fall back into old habits and to become dependent on old, dangerous vices. But no matter how bad things get, no matter how difficult or impossible they seem, he puts all his time and effort into being a  good man. Into loving his wife and children with everything he has.

“What are you guys doing?” she asks, as she steps out onto the balcony, drawing her hoodie tight across her body.

Tyler tilts his head back and smiles up at her. “Nothing. Just hanging out. Talking.”

“I hope you’re not telling her gruesome stories.”

“I would never do that to my little peanut,” he declares, and runs a palm over Addie’s hair, hand settling on the back of her head. “Daddy would never do that to you. He saves that stuff for mommy.”

“Because mommy so wants to hear  your tales of killing people with garden tools. Look at the way she looks at you…” Esme leans over the back of the lounger and presses a kiss to his lips. “...like you’re got rainbows and glitter coming out of your ass or something. Already a daddy’s girl.”

“Nothing wrong with that. She knows who loves her the most. Who used to bring mommy tacos and ice cream and pop tarts at three in the morning when she was still in mommy’s tummy.”

“She definitely likes your voice. Not that I blame her; it’s a very nice voice.”

“She’s strong as hell already. Already holding her up on her own. None of the other ones did it that early. And she’s got a grip on her. Small and mighty. Like her momma. And you look just like your mom.”  he addresses Addie now, as he removes his fingers from her grip and lifts her higher onto his chest; lips resting briefly against her forehead. “Beautiful just like her. Daddy’s not going to complain that you didn’t get his genes.”

“How do you think I feel? The first four look just like you. It’s about time one of them took after me.  She does have your smile, though. Even her eyes and her nose wrinkle like yours do.”

“Yeah, but she’s all you. And that’s good,” he smiles up at her once more, as her hands slide over his shoulder and down his chest and she pecks the corner of his mouth. “It’s very good. She’s incredible. Just like you.”

“Are you hopped up on pain meds?” She teases.

“Not yet.  Why? I��m not allowed to be all sappy and shit with my wife?”

“You’re allowed,” she says, then sinks down beside him, accepting a short, sweet kiss before stretching out on her side. Chin resting on his good shoulder, one hand on his stomach and the other just above his head; fingers  gently combing through his hair. “She’s putting on weight. She’s going to graduate out of preemie clothes and diapers. Only took two and a half months.”

“She’s tiny. Like you.”

“I don’t understand how something that small can come from someone the size of you. None of the other kids were that small. Not even Tanner and he was sick. And Declan? Don’t even get me started on that kid. That was like giving birth to a toddler.”

“She’s always going to be tiny. I mean, you hit twelve and never grew again.”

“You know what, Tyler? Fuck you and your short jokes.”

“Don’t be bitter because you can’t get on the rides at the amusement park or reach things at the bottom of the washer.”

“You’re not very funny,” she grumbles, and presses a kiss to his chin. “Just because you’re absurdly tall and absurdly good looking. What a burden you have to live with every day. How do you manage? How do you carry such a heavy load all the time?”

“Heavy load? We’re talking about my dick?”

“You’re a pig,” she declares. “Don’t talk like that in front of my child. She doesn’t need to hear these things. Look at the way she smiles at you. You’re her favourite already. Not that I blame her; you’re my favourite too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. No one else comes close.”

He smiles, then turns his face into hers and kisses her. “We did good, yeah? With her?”

“We did. With all five of them. And at the risk of sounding conceited, we make some pretty damn good looking kids.”

“Some pretty amazing kids.”

“Well, they have an amazing dad, so…” she raises her head from his shoulder, regarding him intensely as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I really don’t.”

“Are you going to tell me about it, or…”

“I don’t really want to.”

“I think you should. I think you NEED to talk about it. And I think deep down, you want to. You don’t have to shelter me, Tyler.  I married a mercenary; I went into things understanding the life and knowing the risks. You don’t have to hide stuff from me. You think you’d realize that by now.”

“I do. But YOU should realize that I do it to protect you.”

“Protect me from what? You? Because that’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve never once been afraid of you. Not in the slightest. And despite what you think, you’re not a burden. We went into this...marriage, having a family...expecting to help shoulder each other’s problems.  So stop trying to do it all on your own. You’re strong, but you’re not THAT strong.”

He sighs heavily, then drops a kiss on the top of Addie’s head

“What happened, Tyler? Because I know this goes way beyond someone just jumping you. What the hell went wrong?”

“I don’t know. It was fucked up right from the beginning. As soon as I got there. It was this old factory turned into student housing or some shit. I had these four guys to take out; four shots, that’s all I needed. They were across the street at some bar or restaurant or whatever. I was waiting for them to come out. It should have been so fucking simple.”

Esme rolls over onto her stomach, chin resting on his chest as she regards him; patiently waiting for him to continue. She doesn’t push; that will only cause him to shut down completely. Instead she bides her time. Watching his face as her fingers fidget with the chain around his neck.

“Things started going to shit. The street lights kept going on and off; just the two right in front of us. Then they went out completely. So I went to get the scope out of my bag, so I could see what the fuck I was doing.”  His eyes narrow and his brow furrows as he attempts to recall the details.  “And I don’t know I saw him or heard him but all of a sudden he was just there?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Just some guy. Big bastard. Wearing a black ski mask. It happened so fucking fast. I didn’t even get a chance to react. Nailed me right in the shoulder; like he knew where to get me. Where one of my weak spots is.”

“How would he know that?”

Tyler shrugs. “Nik there’s a mole. She said she’s looking into it, but I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything since.”

“What do you think”

“I think something’s fucked. He knew where to get me; knee, back, shoulder. He knew it and he took advantage of it.  I stand a fucking chance. That’s how quick he was. He was so fast, babe. He wasn’t fucking around.”

“And where did these come from?” She runs a hand along the enormous, painful to the touch bruises on his biceps; arm now out of the sling. At least for the evening. “Both arms? And that’s NOT from someone grabbing you.”

“It was his knees. He wanted to keep me still; so I couldn’t get to my holster or the rifle. Fucking kept grabbing me by the throat; trying to choke me out.  Kept asking me if I give up. I basically told him to go fuck himself. I wasn’t giving up. No way in hell. All I kept thinking about was you…” his voice cracks with emotion and tears well in his eyes. “...all I kept thinking about was you. About me getting a second chance and that I wasn’t done with it; I wasn’t ready to let that end. That I didn’t want to leave you or my kids. That I needed to survive. That YOU needed me to survive.”

“Tyler…” she presses a kiss to his cheek, then nestles her nose against his temple; eyes closed and her forehead against him, fingers still moving through his hair. “...it’s okay. Just breathe. That’s all you have to do. Just breathe.”

“I wasn’t going out like that. I wasn’t letting it end like that. I wasn’t letting US end. So I fought back. But I couldn’t get away. No matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough. He was so fucking strong, babe. Tall and big and heavy as fuck.”

“How did you get away?”

“I don’t know. There’s A LOT I don’t know. That I don’t remember. It’s all a big blur. It’s all there there and I know it’s all there but I can’t piece it together and none of it makes sense.”

“Well tell me what you do remember,” Esme encourages. “It doesn’t have to make sense. Just tell me whatever comes to you.”

“I know he drugged me. I remember that part.”

“Drugged you? What…?”

“He had a needle. I remember seeing it. I remember feeling it. Right there…” he lays a finger against the right side of his neck.  “...just jammed it in. It was cold; whatever was in it. It was cold and it burned.”

She heaves a long, shaky sigh; her own tears threatening. “If he wanted to kill you, why would he do that? Why…?”

“He didn’t want to kill me. He wanted to knock my ass out. He probably had a few buddies waiting to help get me out of there. I know that sounds crazy. It sounds fucked up even to me. But I know that’s what was going to happen; what Mahajan told them to do. And I don't know where they were going to take me. Somewhere in the city, out of it, I don’t know. But it wouldn’t have been good once they got me there.”

“I don’t even want what to think about it,” her voice trembles.

“They would’ve let you know. That I was still alive. And they would have made you sure you knew what they were doing to me. They would have sent you pictures or made me call you or mailed you pieces of me.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” she repeats, then promptly bursts into tears; one hand clutching the front of his shirt and the  other at his hair, face buried in his neck. “Please don’t. Don’t talk about it. Just stop.”

****

His shoulder throbs just with the simple act of laying his hand on Addie’s back to keep her secure. And he wraps his left arm around his wife’s trembling body, drawing her tightly into his side. Eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of her head; hand sliding up the back of her simple cotton t-shirt, knuckles repeatedly brushing up and down her spine. Not even attempting to hold his own tears back; feeling the moisture from hers settling on the side of his throat and his shoulder.

“I can’t think about it,” she whimpers. “I can’t. I can’t think about what they would have done to you.”

“It’s okay, baby. It doesn’t matter now. I’m here. It didn’t work. Whatever they had planned, I fucked it up. And I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“They’re sick and twisted fucks!” she cries. “And they would have made sure I knew what they were doing to do you and I wouldn’t have been able to do a goddamn thing about it. I wouldn’t have been to help or get you out of there. I wouldn’t have been able to do a fucking thing for you.”

“It’s alright, Esme. You don’t have to worry about it. It didn’t work. I fucked up everything for them  and now I’m here with you and the kids. Where I should have been all along.”

“I don’t understand,” she raises her head to look at him. “How did they know where you were?”

Tyler shrugs.

“How did they get that close to you? Close enough to do all of this? How…?”

“I must have slipped up somehow. Maybe my brain is worse than we thought. Maybe I’m slowing down. Making mistakes Maybe…”

“You don’t make mistakes,” she argues. “I know you. I know how you work. I’ve SEEN you work, You don’t slip. You don’t fuck up. And you are as hell aren’t slowing down. You’re even better now than you were back in Dhaka. And that’s saying a lot because you were pretty fucking amazing even then.”

“Something happened. I made a mistake somewhere.”

“YOU didn’t do shit. This isn’t on you, Tyler. This is not your fault. Someone fucked up, but it wasn’t you. Who was watching you? Where were they?”

“Across the street. Keeping an eye on shit.”

“Across the street?! How the hell were they keeping an eye on you from across the goddamn street?! Whose idea was that? Yours?”

“I didn’t want anyone breathing down my neck. I can’t work like that. I’ve NEVER been able to work like that. And it’s not like I knew was going to happen. I didn’t want in there expecting some fuck not come in and choke me out and stab me with a fucking needle.”

“Okay...okay...calm down…” Her tone is gentle, his face in her hands. “...it’s alright. I’m not attacking you. Just take a break; everything’s fine. Addie’s asleep. And so she’s tiny and she’s so warm and I know you don’t want to scare her. Calm down, okay?”  She presses a kiss to his lips. “Just stay calm.”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Who was supposed to be watching you?”

“Nathan. He had to take the four guys out when that fucking asshole came after me,”

“Calm…” she encourages, thumbs brushing over his lips. “...just stay calm. It’s okay. It's just you and me talking. No one else. No one’s judging you, Tyler.”

His eyes close, and he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Nathan,” he says, eyes opening and focusing on her. “Nathan was there; across the street. He took care of things. I don’t know what happened after that. Cops showed up, he took off. No one has seen or heard from him since.”

She frowns. “Nathan’s missing?”

“Missing. AWOL. I don’t fucking know. He’s gone. Cell and his SAT just go right to voicemail.”

“Could someone have gotten a hold of him? Could there have been someone else?”

“Why would they want him? What does holding him do? He’s a nobody to them. He means nothing to Mahajan. It’s me he wants. Taking Nathan does shit.”

“Well where could he be? Why would he just take off? That makes no sense.”

“Who the fuck knows. Maybe he’s dead. I have no idea. I just know he’s gone and no one knows where he is.”

“This is fucked up. Way more than we thought it was. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy. That Mahajan plays dirty and that he’d  just step it up as time went on. Now people are going missing? YOU almost went missing. What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, babe. I really don’t know.”

“You need to walk away. This ends here. Your part is this. It ends right here, right now. Walk away, Tyler.”

“I can’t. The job isn’t even close to being finished.”

“Fuck the job. It’s finished for you. Look at you! Look what they did to you! They knew where you were, they knew what spots to target. They fucking drugged you!  That alone could have killed you. Do you even know what he gave you?”

“Ketamine. I guess it’s a sedative of some kind.”

“Yeah, for horses! What the fuck? What’s next? If they get that close again, what happens?”

“They won’t get another chance.”

“You don’t know that. They’re not going to stop, Tyler. Do you really think they’re just going to walk away? They’re not going to give up. Not until they get you. He knows you’re here. Mahajan. He knows you’re in Mumbai. And soon your name and your picture are going to be everywhere and every goddamn gun in this city is going to be pointed at you. Is that what you want? You WANT there to be?”

“No,” he scowls. “That’s NOT what I want.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why won’t you just walk away? Why can’t you just let Anil and his people and Nik and hers handle this? Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s MY family. Not theirs. Mine.”

“And your family wants you alive!” Esme retorts. “We don’t want you out there dying for us. We need you here. With us. So just tell Anil you’re walking away . That you HAVE to walk away. That you need to be with your family. Tell him.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I can’t, baby. I can’t do that.”

“You don’t need to do this. There’s other people who are more than capable of handling things. Walk away, Tyler. Before you can’t. Before it’s too late. Because if they go that close to you once, they’ll do it again. And this time it won’t be just one guy. It’ll be two. Or three. Or four. Or half a fucking dozen. Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“I am listening. You’re not listening to me.”

“This is a suicide mission. This is the kind shit you used to pull before we met. Don’t go back to that. Don’t go back to being him. He died a long time ago. You said it yourself; that he was long gone. You’re not the same person you were back then.  You have me and you have five little beings you helped make. That love you and need you in their lives.”

“I’m doing this for them. For he,” he nods down at Addie as she sleeps peacefully. “So she can grow up. So she can have a life.”

“A life without you. That’s what you’re saying, right? That you’re going to sacrifice yourself for her. For us.”

“We knew that going into this. That it would happen.”

“No. We thought it MIGHT happen. There’s a difference. And I’m asking you...NO...I’m telling you...walk away so you don’t have to make that choice. So it doesn’t come to that.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I am so sorry.”

“So what’s it? You’ve just decided that this is what’s going to happen? You just decided for yourself that you’re going to give up. You’re telling me that you’re okay with that. Dying for us.”

“I’ve already taken bullets for you. Trying to get you the fuck out of Dhaka. And I would take all of those bullets again. And then some. I would die for you in a heartbeat. For you, for my kids. No hesitation.”

“But you shouldn’t have to!” Esme argues. “And you don’t have to. Just walk away. Let other people handle this. Please. You have two choices and you’re making the wrong one. Why can’t you see that?”

“If I give myself up, he’ll leave you alone.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you? That that’s going to solve everything? Because it won’t. You offering yourself up like some kid of sacrificial fucking lamb is not the answer.”

“Hey...calm…” He reaches up and pushes a hand through her hair, tightly gripping the back of her head. “...you told me to stay calm for Addie. Now I need you to stay calm for her. She doesn’t need this. She's a baby. Just a baby.”

“Yeah, she is. She’s OUR baby. As in me and you. And she needs you. She needs her dad. They all do. And you’re sitting here telling me that you’re willing to offer yourself up. It’s bullshit and it’s insane and I want you to knock it the fuck off.”

“I said calm down!” He orders, then aggressively pulls her into him. Pressing a kiss to her forehead. “...just calm down. Please. Take it easy.”

“You are NOT doing this. I won’t let you. This is not what we talked about, This is not what we agreed on.”

“There’s no other choice.”

She shoves him away. “There’s always another choice! It doesn’t have to come down to this. You for us. It doesn’t need to be this way and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t just walk away. I can’t.”

“Promise me when you walk out that door two days from now that won’t just go and offer yourself up. You don’t need to do that. There’s other ways. There’s still fight left in you. I know right now you feel like there isn’t. I know you're doubting yourself. But I have faith in you and I know you can handle this. WITHOUT giving yourself up. Promise me you’ll fight back. That you’re not just quitting. That THAT will be the last resort.”

“If I have no other choice, I’ll do it.”

“But right now you HAVE other choices. You know that, right? You see that?”

Tyler nods.

“Because you don’t give up. You NEVER give up. You’re alive today because you didn’t. So don’t fucking start now. I mean we’re supposed to be having another baby. And I don’t know if you realize how these things work, but I kind of need you for that.”

“I could always just jerk off into a cup and you save it.”

“Okay, you know what? No. I’d rather the old fashion way, thank you. I kind of like having sex with you. It’s kinda fun.”

He smirks. “Kinda?”

“Okay, it’s a lot of fun, actually. I didn’t think  I had to say that. I thought the results spoke for themselves. We don’t have kids for nothing. And I’d say go for the sixth one right now, but you jumped the gun and you decided we were done and go the old…” she holds her hand up, mimicking a pair of scissors with her index and middle finger.

“Not my best decision, I admit.”

“You have this uncanny ability of changing your mind about this whole having another baby thing. How many times have we decided that we’re stopping only for you to turn around and want another one the second the baby came home?”

“It’s never been THAT soon.”

“Excuse me? How old were the twins when you decided that three wasn’t enough after all?”

“Yeah…” he gives  a small, almost sad smile. “...but that one didn’t work out, did it.”

“No.” She presses a kiss to his temple. “It didn’t. And I know it was hard on you. That you didn’t really get to grieve like I did. I’m sorry for that. That I wasn’t there for you in the way you were for me. I’m pretty fucking selfish, aren’t I.”

“No, you’re not. You needed me a lot more than I needed you. Just hard sometimes still. Thinking about it. It was a shitty fucking time. I didn’t think anything could hurt THAT bad.”

“Do you ever wonder? What it would have been?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, running a palm over Addie’s hair and then laying it gently on the top of her head; thumb repeatedly brushing against her ear. “Sometimes I’ll think about it; if it would have been a boy or a girl and what they would have looked like. Then I think maybe things really do happen to reason, no matter how bad they are. If we had had that baby. Declan wouldn’t be here. And maybe we would have stopped after and Addie wouldn’t be here. And I wouldn’t trade either of them for anything.”

“You’re beautiful,” she says, feeling him grin when she kisses the corner of his mouth. “You have the most beautiful mind and this most beautiful heart. And I know you hate me using that word when it comes to describing you. But it’s true; I can’t help it.”

“I’ll let it slide. I’ll let you have it.”

“I have to say, despite my initial reservations about having another one, you do do the whole ‘big, strong man with a tiny baby’ thing very well.”

“You find it sexy don’t you.”

“Very. I find you very sexy. But this…” she trails her fingertips over the myriad of bruises that take up nearly every inch of his neck. “...this is scary. I’ve seen you with a lot of injuries. I’ve even seen you in the worst possible shape. But this? This bothers me the most for some reason. And what’s going on here…” she turns his face away from her and tender fingers investigate the scar left behind from Farhad. “...what were they trying to do? That’s the worst spot. I don’t think it would take much to fuck things up in there.”

“They knew exactly what to target.”

“Any idea who it was?”

“One of the guys off the list. Number 18. Weird part about it? He worked for Asif during the whole Dhaka thing. Guess he was his  right hand man. Moved on to Mahajan when Nik put a couple bullets into Asif.”

“Now that’s fucked, Go from drug lord to the other? So much for loyalty. How’d you kill him?”

“Shot him. Under the chin. I don’t know how I managed. Last thing I remember was that fucking needle. That’s it. Everything else is a blur. Came to and there was a dead body on top of me. I don’t even know how long I was out for.”

“You called me. Some time before you passed you. You don’t remember that, either?”

Tyler shakes his head.

“It freaked me out. I could hear you breathing and it sounded like you were trying to say something. That wasn't a random pocket dial, was it.”

“No. It wasn’t. I don’t even know why I called. I don’t know if I was calling you for help or if I thought I was dying and I wanted to tell you that I loved you…” his voice wavers once again and tears return to his eyes. “...if I wanted your voice to be the last thing I heard. And I wish I did remember it. That I called.”

“It’s okay.” She places a series of kisses across his forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. “...it’s okay now. You’re here and that’s what matters. You made it out of there. You found a way.  You always do.”

“What if I don’t next time? What if it is two guys? Or three or four? Half a dozen? A dozen?”

“I shouldn’t have put that in your head. I’m sorry.” She brushes the tip of her nose against his temple. “That is the last thing you needed to hear. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“I was thinking it long before you said it.”

“I know you want to stay on this. And I get it. I do…”  she runs her knuckles along his jaw, beard scraping her skin. “...I know you want to protect us. And I love you so much for that and I love that part of you so fiercely. You ALWAYS protect us. Everything you do, every decision you make, it’s always for us. But you can protect us without being out there. You know you can. I know you can.”

“How? If I don’t stop them, they’ll get to you. And the kids.”

“But if you’re here, you can stop them. And look at all the people that are here to help. Nik, all of Anil’s people. That’s a lot of fire power. And before you hand me that bullshit about how it’s up to you and only you to protect us, don’t even go there. Because you’re good, but not even you can stop them by yourself. You need help. So swallow your fucking pride and admit that. That you can’t do it alone.”

“I’m not alone. I’be some my guys and Nik’s people and…”

“You were alone the other night,” Esme points out. “What was Nathan going to do from across the street? That is not helping. That’s YOUR version of helping. If you’re here, under the same room as all these people, Mahajan and his cronies won’t stand a chance. We’re safer if you’re here. And I think you realize that.”

“It’s putting a bigger target on you and the kids,” he argues. “If they figure out I’m here, they’ll show up.”

“Isn’t that what we want? Them out in the open? Let them come here. With all these people? With you? They won’t get very far, will they At least tell me you’re listening and not blocking me out. Usually I can read your face, but right now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not blocking you, babe. I’m listening.”

“It makes more sense for you to be here than it does for you to be out on the street where every goddamn gun will be pointed at you. If you’re here, there’s more control over the situation, right? You’d have the upper hand because you’d be familiar with the place and they wouldn’t. And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t feel better being with us. That you don’t WANT to be here.”

“I do,” Tyler assures her. “It’s the only place I do want to be.”

“Then just do it. Just tell Anil that’s how it’s going to be. Explain to him why it makes the most sense. Deep down, you know this is the right thing to do. You know it’s better for us...especially the kids...if you’re here.  And I know you can’ deny that it would be better for you, too. Mentally speaking.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod. “You’re right.”

“Stop being so stubborn,” Esme implores. “This is not the time for that. You know this is the best way to handle things. I know you do. But I also know you hate taking advice from other people and that everything you do has to be your idea.”

He smirks. “You really DO know me well.”

“I so do. I also know I’m the only one who can talk like this to you and not have you get defensive. It’s too dangerous, Tyler. Especially now that Mahajan knows you’re in Mumbai and he’s stepping things up. You can’t be out on the street and you know it. I know that makes you feel useless. And weak. That you’re second guessing and doubting yourself. And you need to knock that shit off. Because you are the stronger, bravest person I know. And you’re the only one I trust with my life. With our kids’ lives. And I need you here. And you need to be here.”

He sighs, then pushes her fingers through her hair, moving it away from her face and off her shoulder. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what? Insanely beautiful and phenomenally intelligent?”

“I was going to say a huge pain in my ass, but okay, I’ll give you those.”

“What are you so worried about? Mahajan’s people showing up?”

“I don’t exactly what them on the doorstep. I don’t want them where you are. Where the kids are.”

“How far could they get with all these people here? I practically can’t take a pee without someone with an AK following me to the bathroom. What do you think can happen when there’s that much firepower here?”

“That’s exactly it. Firepower. With my kids here.”

“I’m not worried about that. Half of Anil’s basement is a panic room. The kids and I will be fine.”

Tyler frowns.

“What?”

“Why the hell didn’t you mention that right off the hop? Why didn’t you tell me that an hour ago when we started talking about this?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I forgot,” Esme admits. “I’m sorry. I should have told  you about the panic basement.”

“I swear to God, for the last seven years, this is how our conversations have gone. We talk about something for an hour when it could have been solved in five minutes. You always leave out that one piece of information that could have saved us a lot fucking time.”

“I’m sorry…” she pouts dramatically, then places a line of kisses along his jaw, over his ear, and up onto his head. “...I know that annoys you. Do you still love me?”

“I do. But fuck, you’re a pain in my ass. No wonder I have gray hair and an ulcer.”

“You don’t have an ulcer.”

“Not yet. But when I get one, it’ll have your name on it.”

“I have a confession.”

He sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“I annoy you on purpose. Because you’re so cute when you’re annoyed. You get the cutest look on your face. It’s adorable. I can’t help myself. I’m sorry. I like your face and all your expressions. You have a really nice face.”

He grins. “I’m starting to really question your taste in men.”

“Please! You know you’re ridiculously good looking. It’s okay to be a bit conceited. I can forgive you for that if you can forgive me for being annoying.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty fucking annoying.”

She scowls, then bites down on his earlobe.

“Ow! Fuck sakes! What is wrong with you? I’m not hurt enough for you? Why you do me like that?”

“Because I know you like it. MY particular brand of pain. What are you going to do? Spank me?”

“You’d like that too much.”

“I would actually,” she says, and then shivers against him when his fingertips graze down her spine. Giggling and squirming against him when he grabs her ass and roughly squeezes  “That hurts!  What’s your issue?”

“You really want to know?”

Esme nods.

He removes his hand from her ass, then takes one of hers and places it on his crotch.

“Oh…” her eyes widen. “...that’s the only part of you that’s not hurt and IS working properly.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I am definitely not. Because I missed you. And I’m not talking the sappy and corny shit about missing you and your quirks and all the stupid shit you do.  Right now, I really miss having sex with you.”

“If you had just admitted that an hour ago, we could have skipped over a whole lot of drama.”

“We said things that needed to be said   and talked about things we needed to talk about. And now, I think you need to use your mouth for something else. IF you’re up to it.”

“Oh, I’m up to it. THAT anyways. Anything else, you might have to do the work. Or the majority of it anyway.”

“You mean I get to be in charge?”

He frowns. “I never said that.”

“You’re such a control freak,” she says, then pecks his lips before sling off the lounge chair and carefully removing a sleeping Addie from his chest. “I’m going to go and put her in her bed. And when I get back, you better be in mind. Naked. Ready to go. I’m not fucking around. Well, I AM. Fucking that is, You know what I mean.”

He’s grinning as he watches her ass move as she walks away. “How much DID you miss me?”

“Not THAT much, Tyler. Forget about it. It’s not our anniversary yet.”

“Early anniversary present?” He suggests hopefully.

“You wish!” She scoffs, then disappears into the house.

[elizabeatrice]

Feeling Blue, Seeing Red (Chapter 69)

Let’s Talk About JSHK Manga #5

Updated: 19/8/2020 (more thoughts)

Bea is back with the lame punny titles~

Warning: !!! MANGA SPOILERS UP TO CHAPTER 69 !!! Duh.

Soooo I opened the raws this morning. Saw the spicy and went 'ohh shoot'. Then some of y'all say that some folks are hating Akane bc of this chap. I proceeded to panic, because fandom war is scary af. So I translated the chap for myself. And I just gotta say:

Aoi, Nene, your boyfriends are idiots. Y'all gonna be punching and headbutting the idiocy out of them for the rest of your lives and I'll be willing to pay for your karate classes.

The teen drama made me laugh so hard ahahahaha I guess this is what you get for hoping sensei will drop a bomb this month lmaoooo.

P.S. Teru you little shit

Man I don’t even know where to begin. This chapter is oozing doraaaaama and I can’t take it seriously no matter how much I try. I remember thinking, “Shoot, this is the ‘I hate you, I hate you too, proceed to make out’ trope in JSHK’s classic ‘oooh serious moment, eh? PSYCHE!’ style,” before bursting into laughter.

I swear I’m not making fun of it.

Because it’s already fun to begin with. Ahahahaha.

I do however, take seriously the long-awaited insight into Aoi’s mind. I hollered in joy, y’all. ‘Cause like ... finally!

(Also like ... ngl the development of Aoi and akaoi in this arc might come into play in my Shrek AU. Pls don’t ask. Yet. That’s not the official AU name I swear I just wanna confuse my readers ahahaha)

Back when chapter 64 came out I wrote something that was supposed to be the first of the Let’s Talk About JSHK Manga series but I ended up not posting it because I wasn’t sure about a bunch of things. Here’s an excerpt from that post, titled ‘Aoi and Her Blues’:

I mean, what did the minions do to her? ‘Remove unnecessary things’. Someone said they removed her inhibitions (I’m terribly sorry I forgot who said this because it’s been so long so I can’t put the link here, but if you know, feel free to send me the link).

But she has to be brainwashed, right?

She remembered enough about Nene. Enough to call her out on her feelings (that she still denies btw lol) and recognize Hanako from Nene’s wonderful description (or because Aoi could see him all this time and never said anything, who knows?).

Most importantly, she remembered Akane.

So apparently they weren’t unnecessary enough to be erased from her memory. Which I’d beg to differ if I were going to make this girl willingly sacrifice herself.

Would she let her best friend fall down into a pit full of giant insects, or let her childhood friend get impaled? I mean this is the same girl that cried when Akane and Yamabuki got together (by accident) and when Nene started talking to herself like a madwoman.

So yeah. Definitely brainwashed. Pretty sure now.

The one thing that bugged me is what she said though.

“I’ve always wanted to go somewhere far away.”

“Nothing will stop me from getting my wish.”

Btw these aren’t accurate word for word I’m just drawing from memory.

Is that a wish forced upon her by the brainwashing, or has Aoi been depressed all this time and ... y’know, therefore thought about ‘going far away’? I’m personally leaning more towards the first, but it still got me thinking.

Remember back in The Clock Keeper arc when she said there was something she wanted to tell Nene?

Can some creepy hands showing up in the gardening club’s album photos really warrant that kind of expression? Is it just me who got disappointed when the thing she wanted to tell Nene ended up being just that?

But if she did have such thoughts, why?

Maybe she was lonely? I mean Nene got so busy with supernatural shenanigans. Akane’s busy with student council stuff (and school wonder stuff). Though I don’t doubt for a second that he’d drop everything for Aoi, but Aoi’s not the kind of person to do that. And to be honest, I feel like so far Aoi hasn’t been shown having genuine interaction with anyone aside from Nene and Yamabuki without the other person being completely enamored by her. And even with Yamabuki that was just in that After School chapter.

So I guess my hunch wasn’t that far off. Still though. Still though. Is she or is she not brainwashed? Because as much as Aoi likes-but hates-but actually kinda likes Akane, I still don’t think she’s the type of person to stab her childhood friend until he’s got a hole through his fucking torso.

Throwing Nene into the bug pit I guess makes more sense if Aoi knew all along that the pit won’t lead anywhere too dangerous, and that Hanako wouldn’t leave Nene’s side. Nene’s perfectly safe with him. Sorta. She did get kidnapped and were about to be sacrificed after all. But heeey Hanako still showed up to save her in the end.

Stabbing Akane like that tho? Even if she knows he wouldn’t die in a boundary especially in his school wonder form? It just doesn’t feel like Aoi, man.

Then again she did say no one really knows her, and that anyone who does would end up being disappointed in her.

I’m really happy to know that she does not, in fact, appreciate all the attention given to her. Comedy framing aside, constantly having some random guy approach you to ask you out presumably every day is ... annoying at best. Kid deserves better.

So ya girl got some extreme trust issues. Strangers, even Akane and Nene, I could understand. But her dad tho? Is something going on in the Akane household? Bruh ....

How long has Aoi not been able to trust anyone enough to let them get close to her? Because if she’s been feeling like that about Nene all this time, Imma be super sad bruh. Nene is one of the most genuine kids ever (perhaps only second to Kou).

I understand that Aoi’s disappointed because Nene’s been keeping secrets, but honestly, who would believe you if you come up to them and say, “Hey so I summoned a toilet ghost and now I’m stuck as his assistant. The rumors about supernaturals are like, totally real, and can endanger everyone in this school for real, too. Also I turn into fish when I come in contact with water.”

Sensible best friends would either a) not believe you, or b) try to get you as far away from supernatural shit as possible ‘cause hello? Ya ain’t Miles Morales ya can’t just blast What’s Up Danger when monster of the week shows up.

Even if Aoi does let it continue, wouldn’t she wanna get involved? Would Nene let her get involved when Tsukasa’s still around? Ya girl got cursed, thrown off the top of a boundary, sent to literally nowhere and everywhere, almost got her body stolen by mirror monsters, kidnapped and taken into a fake world, and now trapped in literal Grim Reaper’s realm. Honestly, who would involve their best friend in this sort of shit?

It just makes me sad to think that all this time Akane and Nene have genuinely cared about her but she didn’t think they were. Aoi, my girl Nene literally threaded hell boundaries and high shallow water to save you!!!

Unrequited platonic love hurts just as much as romantic ones, y’all ....

Speaking of romantic love.

Hey, uh, Akane. For claiming to despise Hanako and calling him a slimy pervert, y’all kinda act the same way with your respective girlfriends when things get a bit heated up, huh? Even the teasing part.

Boy, you’re dumb af. You deserve that.

There it is y’all, it’s official. We got punches for akaoi and headbutts for hananene.

You deserve this too. But Teru’s face here is really annoying, I’ll give you that. Teru you little shit.

At least you’re finally gonna be useful. Let’s just see.

Hmm I guess I have to address the thing now.

Ahem. The thing. The pushing (pulling?) Aoi down, grabbing her neck thing.

Yeah I don’t get it either. Whether it was a creative choice taken in consideration to the actual character’s state or to just pander to the trope that seems to be marketable in Japan or both, I don’t really know.

I do however, have to remind you that none of these kids are in their right mind. One is possibly still recovering from the effects of brainwashing and dealing with not only extreme trust issues and insecurities, but also the sight of a gaping hole on her childhood friend and perhaps crush’s torso, not to mention having to deal with this in the middle of nowhere. The other one is the said person with a gaping hole on his torso, who almost lost his life-long crush, and even got stabbed by her in the first place.

They’re lost. They’re tired. They’re emotional. They’re frustrated. They’re two hormonal teens.

I think Akane thought Aoi wouldn’t listen to him unless he makes her. Which is why he went with exposing her by saying he hated her. Which is still a dumb move in my opinion. But Aoi rightfully got back at him. And honestly I didn’t think he really hurt her. I mean, it’s Akane after all. *shrugs*

The way I see it, the entire thing was a result from not only their current condition but also the uh ... not telling each other how they really feel all this time. Aoi with her issues, Akane with his secrets. They’re a ticking bomb. It’s horrible that they ended up hurting each other because of this (physically and emotionally), but I could see why it went like this. These two are flawed. Most importantly, they’re teenagers. They’re bound to fuck up in this equation.

Heck, I’ve fucked up worse in less endangering situations before.

But heeey once things get cleared between them they fall right back to each other. Sure things aren’t entirely resolved. But they’re gonna be okay. Teru’s there. Should be fine. Probably.

The thing is we as the audience who come into the story with a clear head can easily figure out the best, most sensible way to deal with the characters’ problems. But these problems affect the characters in (physical, physiological, psychological, emotional) ways most of us can’t immediately empathize with, which can make their bad decisions frustrating for us to see. We know it’s wrong. And when these characters have calmed down and healed, they’ll know that it’s wrong, too. If they’re not dicks, that is.

You know how it feels when you’re fighting with someone, and you know the best thing to do is to talk it out, but you just can’t bring yourself to? It makes things worse, right? And you’re frustrated, right? Unfortunately that’s just how humans are.

Even I let my emotions get the best of me when I judged the villagers’ actions back in chapter 68 hahaha (but I still think they’re awful).

It’s just my opinion tho.

And whooo everyone is officially here but Yamabuki (and Sakura and Tsukasa, but they’re bound to show up)! Catch up soon, my citrus child.

Lastly, I have the moral obligation to remind you that if akaoi’s confrontation ended up like this, imagine how hananene’s would be.

I’ll leave you to your deductions.

As always, feel free to discuss. Just ... don’t fight, onegaishimasu.

[seanfalco]

I saw pictures of Sheehan with dogs/puppies and now I want to know what Aevryn would do if Valdo surprised her with a puppy as like an anniversary gift or part of proposing or somethig? Or if it doesn't work for you vision cus cute fluffy pets aren't punk or he's a cat person, maybe something with Valdo and the reader and a dog? If you want, ya know. Or just so you know those pictures exist and can drive yourself mad deciding which is cuter him or the baby dog.

Fandom: The Witcher Punk!AU

Pairing: Punk!Valdo x oc (Aevryn Swift) / Platonic!Valdo x Reader

Word Count: 1732

Rating: G

Taglist: @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @nevadawolfe @magic-multicolored-miracle @coffee-and-stories @whatevermonkey

a/n: Bless nonny, this was so cute and just what I needed.  (Also fluffy pets are hella punk rock ;p)  Also also guhhh Robert + dogs *heart eyes*

Aevryn always looked so beautiful in sleep, her usual vibrant exuberance melting to peaceful vulnerability, and as Valdo watched her, her chest rising and falling softly, his fingers combing through her wavy hair, he felt he might drown in the depth of his affection for her.  

It had been nearly a year since she’d given him a second chance and they were happier than ever; each day a new opportunity for him to prove he deserved it.  However each day it also became harder for him to keep holding back the proposal that he’d already planned in minute detail, wanting every part of it to be absolutely perfect – which was why it was crucial for him to wait just a bit longer.  

In the meantime though that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something just as special for their anniversary.

Aevryn stirred in her sleep, and half awake pulled him closer, not articulate enough to chastise him for watching her but knowing she wanted him near, and he settled in without complaint, a smile on his lips as his soft curls pressed against her cheek.

——

Valdo Marx was always fashionably late, so when he’d asked you to meet him at eleven, you knew he wouldn’t actually arrive until closer to eleven twenty, and sure enough there he was, right on time.

“Ah, [Y/N], I hope you weren’t waiting long,” he exclaimed as he crossed the street, pushing his sunglasses up into his mess of hair and greeting you with a slightly awkward hug.

“So what is this terribly important task you need my help with?” you asked, a grin tugging at your lips as Valdo shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, I actually need your help picking out a gift for Aev,” he admitted, and you gaped at him with surprise.

Certainly he would know Aevryn’s tastes a little better than you – it wasn’t as if you weren’t her friend as well, it was just that Valdo had known her considerably longer, and besides, the man usually gave such lavish presents that you doubted how much help you’d be.

“Uhm, okay, what sort of gift?” you asked, trying to get an idea of what you were working with here.

“I want to get her a dog, well, a puppy to be precise,” he answered, “she’s always wanted one.”

“Wouldn’t that be something you should pick out together?” you wondered aloud and Valdo frowned, thick brows drawing together.

“I suppose, but I wanted to surprise her.  Our second first anniversary is swiftly approaching and Aev’s not exactly big on jewelry,” he explained.  “Though there is one piece of jewelry I think, well, I hope she’ll like,” he muttered and your eyes grew, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.

“In the shape of a ring perhaps?” you pressed.

Valdo’s rueful expression gave him away and you gasped in excitement.  “Do you already have it?”

“Would you like to see it?” he asked, and you were already nodding your head aggressively.

He chuckled at your enthusiasm and reached into the depths of his coat pocket, pulling out a little velvet box, snapping it open as you leaned in closer.  The delicate engagement ring nestled inside the box was obviously finely crafted, the band designed to look like a sliver twig and the modest diamond topping it glittered in the sunlight; a matching stackable wedding band accompanied it, decorated with a tiny silver leaf.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, glancing up to catch a glimpse of the pride in Valdo’s bottle green eyes.  “She’s going to love it.”

Clearing his throat Valdo closed the box and carefully returned it to its hiding place.  “Thank you,” he exclaimed, practically beaming.  “I certainly hope so.”

“Just how long have you been carrying that around?” you queried, cocking an amused eyebrow at him and Valdo flushed, glancing away.

“Only a couple months,” he muttered sheepishly.

Stifling your laughter behind your hand you decided to stop your teasing.  “Okay!  So, puppies,” you announced, clapping your hands together to change the subject.  “Does Aev have a favourite breed?” you asked, getting down to business.

“Uhh…” Valdo looked lost.  “Our neighbor when we were children had this shaggy golden beast that Aev was particularly fond of.

Having a feeling you knew which dog he was talking about you brought up a photo on your phone.  “Is this it?” you asked and Valdo’s eyes lit up with recognition.

“Yes, that’s exactly it.”

“That’s a golden retriever.” 

“Perfect!” he exclaimed, “So where do we get one?”

——

Having steered him away from any pet shops that no doubt sold puppies from puppy farms, you walked into the local animal shelter, warning him that he might not find a golden retriever, but that another dog in need of a home might catch his eye and Valdo agreed anyway, eager to scope out the canine selection.  It wasn’t long before Valdo’s delighted gasps could be heard at every new kennel he passed, though his discerning eye kept him moving on.

“Hmm,” you mused, glancing around, “it doesn’t look like they have any golden retrievers here, would you like to try somewhere else?”

Your question was met with silence.

“Valdo?”

That’s when you saw him, a little french bulldog clutched in his arms happily licking his face as Valdo laughed delightedly.

“[Y/N]!” he cried, turning to you.  “I think I’m in love!  Look at how cute he is!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst from your lips and you quickly snapped a photo to show Aevryn later, certain she would want to see this.

“[Y/N], do you think Aev will like him?” he asked, smiling down at the wiggly dog in his arms.  “Or should I keep looking…?”  He asked, clearly depressed by the thought.  “I mean, clearly he’s not a golden retriever…”

Valdo trailed off and your heart almost broke at the crestfallen expression that crossed his face as he put the dog down.

“Hey,” you said, quickly placing your hand on his shoulder.  “Y’know, goldens get pretty big and neither you nor Aev have ever had a dog before, why don’t you start out small while you learn the ropes and then you can always pick out a golden puppy together later?”

Your words seemed to make up his mind and Valdo’s grin returned.  “Yes, that sounds like sound reasoning to me.  Did you hear that little guy?  I think you’re the one,” he addressed the dog, who gazed up at him with his little tongue lolling.

As Valdo carried the dog out to the car, happy as a clam, you couldn’t help but smile as well, wishing you could be there to see Aev’s face when she saw him.

“Okay, now we have to get everything he might need.  And only the best!”

“Are you going to name him or let Aevryn do the honors?”

“Oh, I’m letting Aev choose his name.  He is my gift to her after all.”

Sure, you thought as you watched him fuss over the little bulldog.  As if he wasn’t already completely enamored himself.

——

As sneaky as possible Valdo set the dog up in one of the spare rooms, hoping against hope it wouldn’t bark and ruin his surprise until he was ready for the big reveal.  He barely slept through the night, constantly checking in on the little guy.

The next morning Valdo woke early, carefully extricating himself from Aevryn’s arms to get breakfast started and to let the puppy out. 

Soon he was carrying a tray piled high with all of Aev’s favourite breakfast food back to the bedroom and setting it on the dresser before crawling back in bed to wake her with a kiss.

Aevryn hummed, pulling him closer.  “Something smells amazing,” she murmured, a soft moan slipping through her parted lips as Valdo continued to trail kisses along her jaw and neck; his curls brushing her skin as he moved.

“Happy second first anniversary,” he said softly, peering into her eyes before capturing her lips in another firmer kiss.

Aevryn laughed, wrapping her arms around him in a crushing hug.  “I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” she replied, never wanting to let go.  “Knowing you, I have a feeling you have all sorts of things planned for today.”

Loosening her grasp she let him pull back.  “Of course, love,” he purred, “starting with breakfast in bed, and then I have a little surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Aev asked, tilting her head to watch him get up and bring the tray of delicious smelling food over.  She could remember when he could barely make scrambled eggs without burning them and now he was making crepes and eggs and bacon and toast all on his own.

Breakfast was followed inevitably with a steamy repeat of what had happened the night before and Aev whined as afterwards Valdo slipped out of her arms and out of bed to retrieve her surprise, placing the puppy in a large box with a bow for the quick trip across the house.  When he returned to the bedroom he was met with a pout which swiftly turned to curiosity as she eyed the box in his hands.

“What, pray-tell is that?” she asked, crawling closer as he set the present on the bed.

“Open it,” he prompted, crawling back under the covers next to her.

Eyeing him excitedly she pulled the lid off and covered her gasp with her hand, a high-pitched squeal still escaping as the puppy looked up at her with his big brown eyes.

“Valdooooo,” she cried, pulling the dog out of the box to hold in her arms.  “Did you really get us a puppy for our anniversary?”

The pleased smirk that crossed his face only grew as the puppy wriggled excitedly, licking Aevryn’s face to her shrieks of laughter.

“I take it you like him?”

“Like him?  I love him!  He’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen!”  Aev exclaimed, throwing herself and the puppy into Valdo’s arms.  Landing amongst their pillows in a heap, the puppy barking excitedly, Valdo laughed, pressing a kiss to Aev’s temple.

“I’m glad, love.”

“What’s his name?” she asked, stroking his little nose with her finger as he settled on top of Valdo’s chest.

“I figured you could name him.”

Scrunching up her nose in thought Aev suddenly smiled.  “You look like a Romeo to me.”  

[kali-fullofwordsnthoughts]

some nygmakins thoughts

Binged/finished Gotham last week. So I was behind on seasons 4 and 5 and I’m tight I waited so long to catch up because Nygmakins literally gave me life and it’s already done and I have no one to share this excitement with because I showed up 15 mins late with Starbucks.

For a ship I never predicted I’d want, I’m blown away by it and how I forreal can’t stop thinking about Ed and Lee. I’m still a Nygmobblepot fan but I realized a while ago that that would probably never be explicitly canon. But Nygmakins! The people who say it seemed forced are delusional. And it definitely ‘didn’t come from nowhere’, as you see their initial reunion being one of hostility and threats. They gradually shift from enemies to allies to friends and almost lovers and it was so sweet to watch.

Ed and Lee have clear chemistry.  They play well off of each other, shifting from flirtatious to serious as the scene necessitates. They support each other. They uplift each other. Seriously, I’ve been rewatching their scenes and all I keep noticing is how much they compliment each other. And the lengths they go to protect each other. And how they’re constantly giving advice or encouragement. Please forgive my crappy gifs and screencaps, I’m just enamored with these two. [AND I learned some basic giffing for this post.]

That’s Lee and Ed. Let’s talk about the queen of the narrows and the riddler because they are a different pair.

Their relationship starts with as much antagonism as Ed and Lee’s. Riddler's superiority complex mixed with Ed's 'pathetic' love for Lee pretty much sets the stage for her being an object of derision to Riddler. In their first meeting, he spends half the time ignoring her and the other half insulting, saying she's weak, all talk and no action. When he is subsequently captured and tortured, while Penguin runs off to save him, Lee is busy taking care of business. She's the clear underdog, the newcomer, the outsider, and she takes out a bigger, more established boss. Most importantly, she proves Riddler wrong and that is something he can't tolerate.

Their first face off - without the distraction of Sofia, Oswald, or Grundy - comes at the Riddle Factory. The Riddler is already intrigued by Lee and his choice to hold the club in the Narrows is both for attention and retribution. I'm convinced he saw Lee's killing of Sofia as a fluke. She got lucky, he thinks to himself. Obviously, the weakest player can move around, avoiding detection, and get lucky by being at the right place at the right time. So he put his club in the Narrows as a challenge to Lee. When Lee wins the challenge and bests him, proves him wrong once again, his intrigue mixes with fury but you can see his thinking start to shift.

He's beginning to understand not to underestimate her but still his pride insists she won by trickery, by trying to manipulate the love she knows Ed has for her. But when she insists on that love, he cannot abide her attempts to manipulate him in that way and draws his blade on her. Lee is unaware of the danger she’s in up until that point. She's never feared Ed because he never threatened her harm. Riddler is a card of a different color. And the darkness in her reacts to him. Riddler absolutely senses this. He knew she had to be dark to do what she did to Sofia - and Sampson - but since he wasn't there for either event, the first time he glimpses her darkness for himself is with her in his arms, a knife pressed to her neck, and not a touch of fear on her face. And when she brushes the knife aside to kiss him, that’s when Riddler starts to fall in love with her.

Let's talk about the difference in the pairs.

Ed is the more repressed one. You can see it in his body language with Lee.

With Ed & Lee there’s usually a bit of distance or Ed will be standing behind Lee, symbolically watching her back and letting her dominate many interactions.

Likewise, he keeps his emotions for her quiet and to himself.

Riddler is not that constrained. Their very next scene together, following the kiss, they’re shown standing shoulder to shoulder, leaning more casually and closely than we’ve ever seen Lee with Ed.

It was Ed who said, I'm not one to play the sidekick, but it's the Riddler who actually steps up. When he's in control, he's either leading, right at Lee’s side, or two steps ahead of her, anticipating and dealing with danger - Penguin and Butch - before the threat even becomes known to her. He’s grown comfortable being near her and doesn’t pull away when she enters his space.

He doesn't hesitate with verbalizing his feelings either. After the kiss, Riddler is extremely direct with his questions, asking their relationship status, confronting her on what he saw as her teasing behavior, and demanding to know if she was just stringing him along. His bluntness extends to all audiences and we get quite a few declarations of love and loyalty. 

This is a big distinction. Ed doesn’t speak his feelings but Riddler is bold, brimming with charisma and I think that affects Lee. After he promises she’ll fall in love with him, they’re both looking at each other like Christmas freaking morning.

If Ed was a pawn, then Riddler’s the knight. Especially after he proclaimed his love for her and was ready to throw down with Gordon and the GCPD without any thought.

Previously, I didn’t think that Lee was being manipulative. At least not with Ed. I feel she genuinely wanted to help him improve as a person which is why they drew so close after she became queen. He supported and advised her and she recognized him as a friend. But it isn’t until the Riddler shows up that the relationship gets physical. I think with Riddler pulling the knife on her, Lee realized that he was a different Ed, one that would bring harm on her if pushed. So she adopted a new method to combat that - seduction. She cared for Ed but with Riddler she knew she’d need a little more to persuade him. And I think the scene in the bank, with Riddler proclaiming his love for her and embracing her dark side, had Lee realizing that she liked Riddler as much if not more than Ed. She may have started out manipulating him but it would end up being something more genuine.

There’s the sense of dualism with the two of them. Lee is generally light and opts for avenues of nonviolence. Until she’s challenged and injured then she has no problem breaking a hand or shooting someone in the face. Riddler is the manifestation of all Ed’s dark impulses. Both sides compliment their counterpart. It’s not all the way healthy - show me a nonproblematic Gotham ship - but it works for the two of them. Ed has someone who sees the good in him, who believes in him even when he himself does not. Lee has someone who accepts the changed part of her, even the ugly bits that others would rather pretend doesn’t exist. 

Then they go and introduce Gordon and the jealousy plot and I knew that’s where it was going to go downhill. It went just about as predicted. I knew Lee and Ed weren’t going to be endgame but I was still devastated when they took each other out. Lee’s set to leave. She’s changed out of her dark Narrows’ clothes and wears bright blue. Her dark lip is wiped away, leaving a tired woman behind. This is a death scene, even though Lee survives. It’s death to the Queen of the Narrows and Riddler brings it on her. He was trying to free her from her past self and ended up doing just the opposite. (Obviously, I’m very bitter/disappointed with Lee’s reversed personality in season 5. It all felt utterly pointless to have her acting essentially the same as season 2 Lee, especially the marriage to Gordon which was boring and nonsensical. ) But the scene is so Shakespearean, betrayal by your lover’s hand,

a final pained kiss, 

and a joining in death. And their final words to each other.

Just lay me in my grave because I’m as dead as these two. I’m gonna go write an obnoxious amount of fanfiction.

[bae-leth]

Here are some notes regarding that Fraldarddyd Parents AU! I thought it would be easiest for everyone to put it like this. And feel free to add your own notes and HCs to this!

Crown Princess Natalia Adeline Blaiddyd. Born from Dimitri and a surrogate. Has the minor crest of Blaiddyd. She gets her looks from her father with straight blond hair and bright blue eyes. She also inherited her dad’s absurd strength, though to be fair that’s mostly thanks to her crest. She’s always been a wild child who loves to go exploring places she shouldn’t go to and getting in TONS of trouble all day, every day. Hear the distant sound of expensive stuff breaking? See tracks of muddy footprints in the halls? Are there some angry nobles looking to complain as their kids, covered in bumps, are crying behind them? Blame dear Natalia. She’s very rough and loud, “most unladylike” as many a noble will whisper. She’s also super affectionate, quick to give out hugs and kisses to those she loves. And she’s super duper protective too, always ready to fight.

Prince Artemis Edmond Blaiddyd. Born three years after Natalia and was born from Felix and another surrogate. Has the minor crest of Fraldarius. Artemis resembles his surrogate far more, with fluffy brown hair and freckles dotting him all over. But he also has Felix’s orange-brown eyes. As all the childhood friends like to joke, Artemis’ personality resembles Felix’s from when Felix was little, being super timid and quick to tears and very clingy. He’s pretty shy and constantly hides behind his dads or big sister when strangers are around. Whenever Natalia goes off on one of her little adventures, he really doesn’t wanna go but he also doesn’t like being left behind, so if his dads aren’t around he’ll try his best to trail after her. He’s most at home reading history books in the library or tending flowers in the garden. He’s an absolute sweetheart who is quick to win hearts.

When Natalia was born Dimitri refused to hold her for such a long time. Not because he didn’t want to but because he was scared to. He knew how strong he was and how he constantly broke fragile stuff even when he tried his best to stay gentle. He’d never forgive himself if he accidentally hurt his own child. At some point Felix got fed up with arguing with Dimitri over it and just plopped baby Natalia into Dimitri’s hands unexpectedly. Dimitri went still like a statue for a while before he eventually relaxed, following Felix’s directions carefully as he instructed Dimitri on how to hold Natalia. After that it was pretty common to see Dimitri looking for any excuse to hold his daughter. By the time Artemis was born he had more faith in his ability to safely hold his children.

Much to many people’s surprise Dimitri is often the stern parent while Felix is the one who easily gives in to the kids’ whims. “Felix why do I have to be the no-fun father all the time?” “Hey we all have our roles to play and yours is being a killjoy.” “Felix, I swear to the goddess-”

Everyone always thought Felix’s sweetest smiles were reserved for private moments with Dimitri. As it turns out Felix has even sweeter smiles, all of which are directed at Natalia and Artemis. He keeps denying making such sappy expressions when people (*cough*SylvainandIngrid*cough*) tease him about it.

The kids love to sit in Dimitri’s lap as he works, Dimitri enjoying nuzzling and kissing their heads while he reads treaties or annoying letters from nobles and whoever. The kids also love to trail behind Felix as he goes around delivering news or searching for updates on important stuff, Felix carrying them whenever he notices them starting to get tired and fall behind.

Despite how wild and seemingly unserious Natalia is, she’s very dedicated to growing up to be a strong and capable queen who will protect her people. She’s heard and read enough about the war her dads fought in to be determined to never allow such a war to curse Fodlan ever again, not as long as she lives.

Artemis often gets teased because, unlike his sister, he doesn’t resemble his family much. Of course anyone who bothers him about it quickly shuts up when they see the crown princess sprinting towards them, ready to throw hands.

Natalia and Artemis are close with all of the other Blue Lions and call them Uncle or Aunt (except at formal events where they have to be all proper and junk). Dedue dotes on them all the time, to the point where people joke that the royal children have three dads. They help him cook (even though they both suck at it). Dedue has a drawer in his room filled with all the drawings Natalia has gifted him over the years. And whenever Dedue goes to battle he always carries a crudely made protective charm, shyly given to him by a five-year-old Artemis who wanted him to always come home safe. Sylvain always plays with the kids (hell he’s practically a giant kid himself when he’s around them) and makes them laugh with embarrassing stories about their dads. Ingrid likes to sneak them sweets and go check out the nearby towns with them. Ashe reads stories to them and holds the record among the Lions for being able to get the kids down for their nap the fastest. Annette likes to sing with them and has taught them all of her special little songs. Mercedes is the one to mend their clothes after misadventures and heal all their little injuries with a gentle smile.

I’m adding Byleth in here because of course Byleth’s getting in on this. Specifically Bylad cause he’s my guy. Byleth grows fond of the royal kids too (“Is this what it feels like to be a grandfather?” “Byleth, what the fuck are you talking about?”). Sometimes when the Byleth visits Fhirdiad people whisper when they see the stoic and elegant Archbishop walking around, Prince Artemis sitting on his shoulders and fiddling with the flower crown on Byleth’s head while Princess Natalia has Byleth by the hand, begging him to teach her some cool fighting moves.

When the royal family visits Almyra on a mission to help forge ties between their lands, Claude gifts Natalia with a gorgeous sword, which Natalia is instantly enamored by (“Claude she’s eight.” “C’mon if she’s anything like you she’ll grow into it just fine.”). He then gifts Artemis with…an egg (“Claude, what is that?” “Don’t worry about it.” “CLAUDE.”). A few weeks after they get back to Faerghus that egg turns out to be a baby wyvern that instantly steals Artemis’ heart.

If Natalia was a unit, I can see the following for her: Strengths – Sword, Lance, Riding; Weaknesses – Axe, Reason, Faith; Budding Talent – Brawl. I see her becoming a Paladin who specializes in her both of her dads’ signature weapon styles.

If Artemis was a unit, I can see the following for him: Strengths – Reason, Faith, Flying; Weaknesses – Axe, Brawl, Heavy Armor; Budding Talent – Bow. I see him becoming a magic wielding Wyvern Lord with the same wyvern that Claude gifted him.

When they get older Natalia mellows out a bunch since she’s the Crown Princess and has her position to think of. But she’s still just as strong and stubborn as always, fierce and protective of those who she loves. A warrior princess who is the hero of many across the land. Artemis is still very gentle and prefers books and flowers to the battlefield. But he’s grown much more outgoing and is rather popular for how sweet and adorable he is.

Here's a little bonus info about Natalia and Artemis I forgot to add to my submission. When they're older I love picturing Natalia riding into battle wielding Areadbhar (does she inherit Dimitri's love of spins? she does). As for Artemis he of course constantly keeps the Aegis Shield on hand. If an enemy tries to start close combat with him thinking he only knows about magic and bows SURPRISE he pulls out the Sword of Moralta ("no fair how come you get TWO Hero's Relics?" "cause I'm worth it").

[kirj-of-perversion]

Billy Again (Part 1)

His whole life, Four has brought death and bad luck wherever he went. Now that he is no longer alive maybe his luck will change, especially surrounded by people who love him as much as he does them.

Or a story about Four’s  Many names

A/n: This is for @billytheskywalker​‘s awesome quote challenge! The quote I chose is “Here we are, born to be kings. We are princes of the universe.” Hope you guys like it, the formatting may be a bit weird, you can also read it on ao3 here

Word count: 5.4k

1. Billy

Four and Five were sitting on top of a roof.

That almost sounds like the start of a nursery rhyme, doesn’t it? The setting was right too, everything feels soft and fragile at sunrise. The sun looked almost shy as it peaked from under the earth, a faded red, the sky was pink and five was bathed in golden light.

They were sitting close but not touching, and there, in the cold morning air, Four could almost feel the heat radiating off of her skin. She was so close; if he shifted just the slightest bit he’d be able to press the line of his thigh against hers.

“-at’s why I got into medical school.”* He was only half-listening as she told him about her life before the whole fake death thing, they'd been trading stories for half an hour. He hated it, talking about his life before felt like playing with fire. But he’d never been able to deny her anything, or any of the ghosts for that matter.

“What about you, Billy?” Billy, he still wondered why he told them that damned nickname, why not William, or Bill, even Will; he’d been called each of those at one point or another.

“What do you want to know?” He smiled at her, couldn't help himself, even though talking about himself almost physically hurt.

“What’s your earliest memory?”

He hummed, deep in his chest, wondering how much he should tell her.

“My earliest memory, yeah? I think it was falling off the roof of my childhood home.” She punched him on the shoulder, giggling (and wasn’t that a thought? Five, their badass doctor, giggling.)

“You’re totally lying.”

“I’m not, I swear! My mum was so mad I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. But it didn’t matter to me, the next day I was back on that roof, I’ve been climbing for as long as I can remember.”

She laughed, throwing her head back and he almost felt guilty for lying to her.

But after so many lies, so much secrecy, there were things he couldn't help but keep to himself, no matter how much he loved them all.

His actual first memory was of his mother, being held in her arms as a storm thundered outside. Her usual scent of clean clothes and lavender all around him and her quiet whisperings swallowed up by the darkness around them. He remembered with startling clarity the pain of his black eye, feeling it pulsate, and the words of his drunkard father.

Useless. Good for nothing. Dumb.

And yet, the pain hadn’t been so bad there. Curled up in his bed with his mother as she consoled him, late at night after his father had fallen asleep.

“You’re gonna do great things, my little lamb. Oh, Billy, people like you, born with stars in their eyes are meant to be great kings or rulers. One day you’ll see, the whole world will know who you are.”

He had barely believed her, back then. Even less so, a few years later, on his ninth birthday, newly orphaned and watching the still-hot cinders of his childhood home.

At that moment, he knew, he was destined to misfortune.

2.William

At the age of nine, with no relatives to be found and no will left by his parents, Four was sent to foster care. He lasted two weeks in the system before running away from his foster “parents” and never looking back.

Those two weeks were hellish, as Four constantly switched hands and institutions. Surprisingly, nobody wanted the bruised little kid who had night terrors that woke him up screaming and shaking every single night. The state-mandated therapist he saw only twice asked what the nightmares were about and he told her they were about the house fire (they weren’t, all he saw in his sleep were his father’s fists).

And they all kept calling him that, William, like he was a pet they had named. Nobody asked, it was just William here, William there. William was this new boy, a boy alone in the world whom no one would ever truly care for. Just another child of the system. And yet. And yet, a tiny part in him was relieved, because his heart seized in his chest whenever he thought about being called Billy, like he was disrespecting his mum, who had had so much faith in him.

He knew he would never be able to accomplish whatever hopes she’d had for him.

Midway through the second week, he was sent to the Whites, an idyllic little family with a charming father, a smiling mother, a little girl two years younger than him and a dog. They were nice, too much so, telling him they wanted to welcome him into their family.

“Hello, William, it’s great to have you with us. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home.” Said Mrs. White, running a silk-soft hand through his hair.

For three days he waited for the other shoe to drop, for the charming Mr. White to drink a beer too many and hit him. But he never did, instead, Mr. White (“it’s Gerard, kiddo”) called him champ and big boy, and tossed around a ball with him in the backyard. It was unsettling.

Billy’s father had been a charming man too, everyone liked him. He smoked cigars and laughed like thunder and everyone loved him. (“Oh Billy, why don’t you like your dad? He’s so nice!”).

So as nice as Mr. White was, Four, didn’t trust him. In his experience fathers weren't nice, at least not to their children. Instead, he tottered behind Mrs. White (“It’s Veronica, honey, or mum if you prefer”) and little Elysia, enamored by their twin heads of dark curls.

Mrs. White was nice too, prettier than his own mother and just as charming as Mr. White. She’d kiss his forehead at night and tell him and Elysia stories. She was strict but fair, assigning the children chores and explaining to Four how important homework would be once they got him enrolled in school.

For a few days, Four harbored a tiny flicker of hope. Of course, the universe promptly crushed it.

On the fourth day (And how’s that for an unlucky number?) Four dropped a glass of milk and Mrs. White slapped him across the face, her long nails catching on his skin and drawing blood. Elysia stood in the corner, watching them with wide eyes and a trembling lip as her mother devolved into a screaming fit.

“How dare you?! How dare you disrespect my family and my home like this?! We didn’t have to take you in you idiot!” Four stayed silent, looking her in the eyes as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

She sent him to his room without dinner but instead of falling asleep he grabbed a plastic bag and shoved in the little belongings the Whites had bought for him, still crying, but furrowing his brows in determination.

Fathers, he decided, were not the only bad people there were. Mothers could be evil too, anyone really. And if parents could be so wicked, then he didn’t need them.

Not anyone.

He climbed out of the window with practiced ease, after years and years of climbing all over his own home. He slipped away on silent feet, distantly hearing Mrs. White berate her own daughter and husband.

After that, it was the streets, and Four learned about hunger, he learned how it felt to think you were going to die, for the first time in his life. Sure, at first people were willing to spare a few quarters for the cute little kid sitting on the curb, but as he got dirtier and scragglier they started shooing him away and shooting him dirty looks.

He ate fast food as often as he could, washed his face in McDonald´s sinks and changed into the least dirty of his clothes as much as possible, but he was still miserable. He felt weak all the time and he was just so tired.

And then he learned to steal.

3.Bill

Here’s the thing, most people are good at at least a couple of things, some talent is just innate and if you hone it enough then things start to get intense. And Four? He was good at stealing. Then again, stealing was more of an effect brought on by his talent at climbing and running, at moving.

He’d discovered parkour at twelve and started seeing the world differently. Everything, everything as just a way of enhancing movement, of being faster of getting just the slightest bit closer to the sky. He started moving all around England sometimes learning a trick or two from older guys who were like him. Fast and feeling the urge to move and bend reality around him like a constant urge under their skin.

So Four was good.

And people began to take notice.

Four was fourteen years old (and surely, whatever god there is must have laughed themself silly at the recurring number), and sitting on a roof, letting his feet dangle, eating a warm bagel when he heard footsteps behind him. Immediately he jumped to his feet, turning around and wiping the crumbs away from his lips. He’d met a wide arrange of people who hung out on roofs like him, but usually, there was some semblance of etiquette. The way this person had approached him and gotten so close before announcing his presence was just unnerving.

“Who are you?”

The stranger tilted his head to the side; he was half a head taller and probably a couple of years older than Four, with a generous smattering of freckles on his nose and dark, nearly reddish eyes.

“So you’re the little blonde kid who’s been stealing around town?”

Four bristled, he wasn't a kid!

“So what if I am?”

The kid gave him a cocky smile and extended a hand for Four to shake. Four didn’t move and the stranger shrugged before putting his hands in his pockets.

“My name’s Engel, what’s yours?”

Four took a wary step back, suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was at a disadvantage, only a couple inches away from a three-story fall, backed into a corner by Engel.

“Why should I tell you?”

Engel’s smirk widened, the look in his eyes nearly cat-like.

“Because, I’ve got a job offer for you, pretty boy.”

Four barely caught himself before taking another step back, instead tilting his chin upwards stubbornly.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Then tell me what I should call you.”

He bit his lip and his fingers unconsciously crushing the bagel. What was he supposed to answer to that? True, he was no longer Billy, but William felt crushingly unnatural. He looked Engel in the eyes.

“B-Bill. My name’s Bill.”

Engel smiled with an emotion Four couldn’t decipher and again extended his hand for Four to shake, taking a step closer.

“Nice name, kid. Now I’ve heard you’re good at stealing, and I want you to join my team.”

Engel's hand was warm as Four shook it.

Apparently, the group wasn’t actually Engel’s team, he was just a member who, like the others deferred to the eldest guys, a pair of twenty-year-old twins who didn’t bother introducing themselves to Four. He later found out through the grapevine that their names were Zaccai and Arlo, both sported shaved heads and looked bored nearly all the time. They only seemed to come alive during robberies.

Stealing with this team was completely different from the petty stuff Four usually did. The robberies were each carefully planned and they changed cities much more often than Four did, even countries. In his time with the twins, he traveled through most of Europe. The targets were also much bigger, even if the twins took the majority of the money. Four was sure that they could have retired with a mansion whenever they wanted, but they simply enjoyed their line of work too much.

The “team” was more than anything else, a gaggle of young people without any real organization, the members came and went as they pleased. Four never took off on his own but he sometimes accompanied Engel when he needed help with a side job. Sometimes Engel would leave him alone for weeks at a time and Four would wait anxiously, ignoring the rest of the team until he returned. Whenever anyone took too much time to report back, the twins wrote them off as dead and everyone got a free afternoon to wander off for a while.

The first time this happened, Four looked at Engel with wide eyes but the older one just gave him a bitter smile.

“That’s how things go in this line of work, Bill. You better get used to it.”

Engel was also the first one who put a gun in his hand. Four had been sixteen for two weeks and had finally grown a couple of inches taller than Engel. It was a handgun, small but unbelievably heavy in Four’s palm. Of course, he’d seen that most everyone carried at least one gun whenever they stole something but he’d never imagined he’d have to too. Everyone else did parkour but he was the best one, it was his thing and the reason Engel had recruited him, he didn't understand why he needed a gun like the others.

“You’re fast, Bill. But no that fast. You can’t outrun a bullet, the only way to stop it is to kill the other guy first.” A wink. “And I need you to cover my back too. You and me, yeah?”

And so, Billy learned, every day he would stand for hours, shooting targets until his arms were sore and he could barely keep his eyes open. But no matter how much he trained his muscles he never could bring himself to shoot anyone. His self-appointed mentor also taught him to fight, on dusty gymnastics mats the twins kept around in their hideouts. Engel would always win, but Billy was good too, fast and electric, wiggling out of chokeholds like an eel. But he never fought dirty enough for Engel’s taste.

“You’ve gotta go harder, Bill! Those guys out there are not gonna have any compassion when they’re fighting you. They’re gonna go in for the kill and if you don’t do the same, they’re gonna succeed.”

Four was seventeen, lying on those mats, sweat-slick and breathing heavy, when Engel kissed him. It was a hungry kiss, the kind that builds up for years and uncoils like an explosion. The kind of kiss where you feel the raw need in the base of your stomach, where air stops mattering. And you just want. They started… something after that, kissing in empty corridors and jacking each other off in dark alleyways, quieting their moans into each other’s necks. Four would never forget Engel’s face as he came, head thrown back and flushed cheeks, hair wild.

Despite it all, they never actually fell in love, Four didn’t at least. And Engel would still leave for weeks at a time, leaving him alone and burning. They started drinking together, sleeping with girls when the other wasn’t there and partying hard.

Meanwhile, their little skirmishes kept getting riskier, as Zaccai acquired a manic look in his eyes he hadn’t had before and Arlo kept shooting him worried looks when he thought no one was watching.

Suddenly one day, when Four was nearly twenty-one and easily a head taller than Engel, Zaccai announced he had decided he wanted to steal the Moussaief Red Diamond. At that moment, that meant nothing to Four, but he later found out it was the seventh most expensive diamond in the world, owned by a man named Shlomo Moussaief who lived in London. While everyone was extremely excited at the prospect of being set for life, late at night they could hear the twins argue in their room.

“We can’t do this Zaccai! We don’t have the manpower!”

“Don’t you see it?! It’s the ultimate challenge, the ultimate proof of skill!”

“You’re crazy! You’ve gone crazy, and I’m not letting you drag me down with you!”

Arlo stormed out of the abandoned apartments where the team had been squatting, leaving behind a string of worried whispers and bubbling panic. Zaccai smiled at them when he stepped out of the room.

“Don’t worry guys, we can do it without. When we pull this off, I promise you, we’re gonna become legends! We’re gonna be rich!”

Four shot a worried look at Engel, but the latter had a nearly identical look on his face to Zaccai, a demented smile, slashed across his face.

“Hear that, Bill? Rich. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Engel the millionaire.”

And so they prepared like they hadn’t ever before, scanning the building to find entrances and exits, paying for intel about the security personnel.

Finally, the day came when they silently entered the deceptively modest house where Moussaief lived, Zaccai at the helm.

And promptly walked into Hell.

It was obvious from that first moment that they had been given wrong intel or someone had ratted them off because they were immediately shot at. Men started dropping like flies in both sides of the fight, the sound of shooting deafening as Four gripped his gun so hard his knuckles turned white. They ran across hallways, Four’s teammates constantly shooting and dropping to flour, screaming with pain. Only Zaccai’s laughter rose above the rest of the noise.

“The diamond! Just get the diamond!”

There were only five of them when they finally got to the showroom, only to find it completely empty.

Of course.

Moussaief had probably flown out of town if not out of the country as soon as he'd been tipped off that something was brewing. And he's taken his fortune with him.

Zaccai stopped laughing; face blanching for just a moment before it exploded as they shot him in the head. The only lasting guard walked into the room and promptly shot the rest of Four’s teammates. He felt his heart stop as he watched almost in slow motion, the bullet headed for Engel’s chest. In just a couple of seconds he felt it all, nausea and sadness. And blinding anger.

He raised the gun, and shot, aiming directly at the man’s heart.

Bull’s eye.

The man fell to the floor, his last scream getting stuck in his throat.

Four shot again. And again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and ag-

“Bill!”

What?

“Bill!”

His hands began shaking, the gun clattering to the floor.

“I’m fine! It was just a graze.”

For a moment he stared uncomprehendingly at Engel’s blood-streaked side.

“You okay, man?”

He looked into Engel’s dark eyes, feeling numb as the older boy cupped his face with both hands.

“It’s okay, Bill. He’s dead. I’m fine.”

Four threw himself at Engel, winding his arms around his neck. He didn’t sob or make a sound, just shook as Engel rocked him from side shushing him softly. When he was slightly calmer, he and Engel took the fire escape to walk onto the roof, stepping over bodies, staining the soles of their shoes with blood.

Over them, the moon was nearly nonexistent, just a thin ribbon of light. Four licked his cracked lips before speaking.

“So, what next?”

Engel clapped him on the shoulder, pressing a hand against his injured side.

“Wanna go to Ukraine?”

4.Will

On the day they arrived in Ukraine, the day was overcast.

It was a few weeks after the failed Moussaief thievery, they had waited for Engel’s side to heal up, but Four was still wary of the new group they were going to meet. Apparently, they were friends of Engel that he sometimes helped for a little extra cash, though working for the twins had been more profitable. It stung, that in all the years of knowing each other, Four had never met them.

Besides, he didn’t want to belong to a team anymore. A team meant dead-weight and room for error, a team meant caring for too many people. Usually, Four thrived in variables. How many variables and different paths did the landscape have to offer? Human variables, though, he wasn’t so keen on.

When he voiced his opinions to Engel, the latter just laughed.

“They’re good guys, Bill. Well, as good as you’re gonna get for a bunch of thieves anyway.”

Kyiv was beautiful with high buildings made of white stone dark, lanky silhouettes of unlit lampposts. But Engel immediately led him to the bad side of town, where the buildings barely stood and the people lived on the streets. The smell of poverty was intense, but Four didn’t mind it, it had become home. The group had been living in an abandoned house, with no glass on the windows and peeling paint. Cigarette butts littered the ground outside.

The group inside was much smaller than Four expected, nothing like the twins’ group. There were only eight or nine people, sitting on metal folding chairs, the floor, and an ugly couch, around a deck of cards and three bottles of vodka. The first one to get up was the only girl, tiny and ballerina-like, with bird-boned wrists and lean strong muscle lining her arms. She raised an eyebrow playfully and fixed with an intense look in her dark, dark eyes. The other’s got up slowly, nothing remarkable about them except for a guy with tattooed lines streaked down his face like tears and the bluest eyes Four had ever seen and a man with a hulking figure that surely couldn’t be very good at parkour, hands the size of bowling balls and a gun hanging from his belt. The only one who carried one. Engel smiled wide.

“Well guys, this is Bill, the guy I’ve been telling you about for years.” A wink. “Bill, meet the crew. The scary fella over there is Axel, our gunman, and heavyweight. A bodyguard if you will.” Mr. Giant nodded slightly, his eyes focused on the street outside. “From left to right there’s Dima, Andrew, Andreas, Symon, Taras, Aleksander and the guy with the bad face tattoos is Mykola.” The latter frowned at Engel but didn’t say anything, before giving Four a shaky smile, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

Finally, Engel wound an arm around the girl and pulled her flush against his side.

“And this,” He bit his lip for a second. “Is the wonderful Oksana.”

She looked at Four with a smirk and he felt his knees go slightly weak.

“So this is the famous Bill.” She scrunched her nose. “Not a fan of the name, though. I think I’m gonna call you Will.” Engel frowned.

“Oh my g-d, Oksana you can’t just-”

“It’s fine!” Four cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I’m fine with Will.” Engel leveled an unimpressed stare at him.

“Fine, but you’ll be Bill to me. Now come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

And so it was. The rest of the team stuck to calling him Bill, but that night when Oksana led him to her room instead of one of the communal rooms for the guys, she moaned the name Will.

Will. Will. Will.

Like a chant, soft and hoarse in his ear as her short, sharp nails drew blood from his back.

Will!

As she came, lovelier than anything else he had ever seen, her tan skin flushed all over.

It became a regular occurrence, more often than not he slept in her room and he stuck close to her wherever they went. At parties, he liked to have her closed, fingers grazing her elbow or her hip. When they stole something he usually kept her in his line of sight, more on edge than he had ever seen during a mission.

Of course, he still hung out with Engel. He was his best friend after all, but when the latter tried to go in for a kiss when they were sparring Four stopped him.

“It’s just, ya know, my thing with Oksana. You get it right?”

Engel stared at him and for the first time in a very long while, Four couldn’t decipher his expression.

“Yeah. I see how it is.”

The sparring ended quickly and awkwardly. Usually, Engel and Four fought as cleanly as they could, but at that moment, as Engel twisted his arm behind his back, straddling his hips, he was genuinely afraid he would break it.

“I win. See you later Bill.”

Four stared at his friend’s retreating back, genuinely wondering where he went wrong.

But it was okay. That night, Oksana took him to one of her favorite nightclubs and kissed his worries away. He felt like an idiot next to her, slow and lumbering, when she moved through crowds of people like a fish through water. Everywhere she went, she seemed to belong in a way he had never been able to. but she seemed to want him around and that helped.

And at some point, they started to spend nights upon nights just talking, about everything. Themselves, their childhoods, their wretched, awful childhoods. It was hard not to want when he was next to her. Not only want her but want to change to world for her, fix the injustices, the systems that had failed her, the streets that had sheltered her. Make her proud of him, like he had only ever wanted to make his mom proud.

Being with Oksana made him want everything.

Sometimes, he would whisper these dreams to her, like secrets, face pressed against the warmth of her sweat-slicked skin. She would laugh, quietly.

“You’re a dreamer, Will. I’m fine sticking to the earth while you search for the stars.”

She had always been much more realistic than him. She knew, that those dreams were nothing but fairytales. People like them didn’t accomplish miracles or even good things. He should have listened to her, maybe then the fall from the stars to the ground wouldn’t have hurt so much.

It was Oksana who took him to get his first and only tattoo, four big letters stretched across the knuckles of his right hand.

“What do they mean?”

“A letter for each of the people I have loved the most.”

M, for mum.

E, for Engel.

O, for Oksana.

And B, for the little boy he had once been, for the future his mother had seen in his eyes.

When Engel had seen the tattoo, he’d laughed himself to tears.

“Never get someone’s name or initials tattooed, Bill. It’s bad luck.”

And Engel was always right, wasn’t he?

A month later, they sat together, drinking. Oksana, was asleep, claiming cramps and a couple of the boys had gone out to a nightclub. It was just Andrew, Dima, Engel, and Four, drinking, a cigarette in each of their mouths. Usually, Engel was the best of them at drinking, but tonight he had been drinking much more than usual, taking generous swigs of two different bottles.

He kept asking Four about his relationship with Oksana, getting more and more aggressive with each drink he took. Finally, at four in the morning, he asked a question he’d been itching to ask, the words nearly flying out of his mouth without his permission.

“Aren’t you afraid of her?”

Four laughed, him? Scared of a small, cute girl like her?

But that wasn’t really what Engel was asking, was it? No, it went more along the line of, aren’t you afraid that you’ll fall in love? That you’ll give too much and she’ll take it without mercy? Aren’t you afraid that it’ll be too much, too fast, that you’ll be washed over by her tides?

Because girls like her, are the kind of girls who rip you open to feast on your heart and suck up your soul.

Because she had the power to ruin him.

This squirrely little girl, who looked like a gun made woman. His Oksana (except not his, never his), all muscles from climbing and starving, like him, all of them, street urchins forever and ever like his own group of lost boys.

“How could I be scared of her, I’m twice her size!” Andrew and Dima snickered, but Engel stayed silent, the flickering fire reflected in his eyes, casting strange shadows on his face.

“Whatever, Will” And he said the name like an insult, like a thrown stone. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about her.”

“What’s his problem?” Asked Andrew and as Dima shrugged, Four took a gulp from the bottle of Rum at his feet and tried not to wonder how many times Oksana and Engel had slept together before he came to Ukraine.

From that moment on, he’d been expecting it, Oksana’s betrayal. Waiting for the fatal words to cross her lips: “I cheated on you” or even worse “I don’t love you anymore, I never did.”, asking himself if he would forgive her, shying away from the meaningful stares Engel shot at him and he dared not decipher.

And yet he was in love with her.

He could almost physically feel it, in the way he just seemed to breathe easier with her around him. In the way kissing her felt better than anything else in the world, that her presence brightened up a room. In the way he ached for her when she wasn’t with him.

He had killed for Engel, but he knew he would die for Oksana.

And they did stakeouts and ran to keep fit and listened to rumors. They kept stealing, here and there, but every single one of them was here for the big one. The necklace. Worth fifty million fucking dollars, the so-called “Garden of Kalahari” was even bigger than the Moussaief diamond. No matter how many participated in that robbery, they’d be set for life, and in this mission, the team was small. None of them could truly comprehend the amount of money the Kalahari was worth.

And it was going to be theirs.

There was a tension in the air, an itching in their veins, and at moments Four almost thought he could comprehend what had driven Zaccai to near-insanity. The feeling of adrenaline and expectation was nearly intoxicating. But still terrifying. The day almost snuck-up on them, there without warning. They had planned and re-planned a thousand times and yet, the Moussaief incident kept repeating itself in Four’s head. What if’s plagued him.

That morning, Oksana soothed him with a slow kiss.

“Welcome to the rest of our lives, Will.”

And so they went, the building was much older and unassuming than Moussaief’s home had been. But it made sense, the Kalahari belonged to an old rich woman, who hoarded her jewelry like a dragoness and who, after losing her businesses to younger more innovative competition, had let herself fall into poverty rather than sell her jewels.

Every morning she left the building unattended to go walk a decrepit old dog, both of them took nearly an hour for a short walk. More than enough time.

This group was much more acrobatic and parkour centered than the old one, so only the big guy, Axel, and Engel carried guns, the added weight wasn’t ideal for this kind of job. As soon as they walked into the building, Axel and Engel posted themselves at the door, guns drawn.

They had planned and re-planned a thousand times.

It wasn’t enough.

The first clue was the gunshots, the next one was the two heavy thuds by the door, Engel and Axel’s corpses falling to the floor. The final clue was Mykola shouting. Desperate, as if he wanted to tear his vocal cords out.

“Politsiya! Politsiya!”

Four never learned Ukrainian. He had meant to, he’d wanted to impress Oksana, but even he knew what the words meant.

When he found the Kalahari, it was almost like salvation. Maybe. Maybe, the mission hadn’t been for nothing.

More shots then, closer now, Four wasn’t keeping a head-count anymore. Just running, as fast as he could, until the oxygen burnt.

They were supposed to cross through the sign and he could barely comprehend when instead of doing that he was falling. Airborne. The only thing keeping him from certain death, from splattering like paint on the floor, was the too-thin cable in his hands. For the first time in a long, long time he was scared of falling.

And then she was there, Oksana. She grabbed the necklace and he knew that he was saved.

Except.

“Grab my hand! Grab my hand!”

His jaw hurt like nothing had hurt before, the jewels between his teeth felt like iron, like they would grind his molars to dust.

Oksana didn’t grab his hand. The look in her eyes was cold, empty, and Four felt himself go numb.

And then he was falling.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[softlimefluff]

Can I have a jojo match up? I would prefer someone from the Stardust Crusaders arc if that's okay. I'm a female with short pink hair and blue eyes and I need glasses, I'm also short like 5'1. I'm loyal, compassionate, and honest to a fault. I'm also stubborn. I also have anxiety but I'm working on that. I also protective of my anyone I care for. I also can keep a secret. I like to draw, dance, read and write, and learn about different cultures. I hope this so enough if not you can message me.

Your match is:

Polnareff!

First and foremost, Polnareff is a man of culture, style, and romance. He would love you pink hair and be fascinated by it, constantly staring at it and playing with it, asking how you got it that way (BUT CAN U IMAGINE PINK HAIR POL???). Sometimes I wonder if Pol needs glasses too, so y’all would be in the same chaotic “I can kind of see but kind of need help too” boat. Even though you’re shorter, Pol would love your height difference and take his opportunities to pick you up in bone crushing hugs!

Your loyalty, compassion, and honesty are all extremely attractive to Polnareff—he values much of the same things as you. Your stubbornness is a match for his and if you ever disagree on anything, it’s going to take quite a bit of talking and bartering to come to a resolution. Pol’s caring, affectionate side would be evident when it comes to your anxiety, however. He knows you’re working hard on it, but would also be there to reassure and support you along the way, offering whatever he could emotionally and physically to help you stay calm. 

The two of you would go to great lengths to protect one another and while we all know Pol can’t keep a secret to save his life (*coughs* AVDOL???), he’s sincere about his feelings and emotions. You can be the one to keep secrets for the both of you. 

Finally, he would love all your hobbies and interests, being no stranger to fine arts and culture. Drawing, writing, reading, and dancing are all within his interests, even if he can’t always focus long enough to read consistently or draw to save his life. He’d be your biggest supporter though and always be bragging about you to everyone else. He’d join in with your interest in other cultures, always telling you stories about his travels and suggesting that you go new places together.

Your first date would be after running into Pol in an art museum! Maybe you’re visiting Paris because you wanted to do personal traveling. His size and frame alone is impressive and he soon catches your eye. He’s no stranger to chatting up others and when you two are close to a big painting, he clears his throat, pointing up at it and asking what you think. As soon as you tell him, wondering why he’s asking, he cracks a joke and gives you the biggest grin. You’re hooked and the two of you keep walking to other paintings, doing a similar thing the whole time. You haven’t laughed this much in a while and his energy is infectious! Before long, Pol asks if you’d like to stop and get something to eat and the two of you sit down together, eating and getting to know one another.

Your first kiss wouldn’t take long to happen! Pol gets your number and convinces you easily to go out with him the next night. You have a nice evening, eating dinner together and then walking down by the canals as the sun sets. He’s enamored and lovestruck and asks that night if you could share a kiss. You’re surprised at first, but what the heck, it’s Paris and you’re charmed~~ Pol is very gentle and romantic, holding the small of your back and cupping your cheek gently as he kisses you. It’s soft and not overwhelming--Pol is a gentleman and he knows what’s proper. When he pulls away, you’re blushing softly and kind of dizzy. Your head is swimming with warm, happy feelings and you immediately snuggle into his arms, laying your head on his chest (himbo tiddy cuddle time 😌).

[devnny]

CHAPTER THREE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

It’s time for Devi’s side of the torment!! It pains me to write her as anything but sarcastically happy, but c'est la vie...

Devi sucked listlessly on her Brain-Freezy, eyes trained on nothing in particular, while Johnny continued happily scrawling away from his seat on the floor.

She killed him. She really did.

Well, sort of.

It was an unnerving feeling, the metaphorical blood on her hands. Even with a history of guys around her losing eyeballs and brains, or bursting into flames beside her, none of that gore was ever her fault – aside from the chalk-induced asthma attack that killed poor Spindgey Simons, which was gruesome enough for her. The most violent Devi had ever gotten was beating the man sitting a few feet away from her within an inch of his life, which he had done well to deserve, in every regard. So, it was strange to be so hung up over pushing that one inch further and actually killing him – inadvertently or not.

The point was that Johnny laid the responsibility of his impermanent demise solely on her, and maybe that’s why it bothered her so much.

The fact that Johnny was more-or-less elated that she had been the unsuspecting command behind the very real trigger was baffling to her, but of course, he was naturally more comfortable with the concepts of murder and death than she was. At some point, he’d rationalized murder as a means to an end of bitter, ugly things, so to him, the fantasy of her blowing all the horrendous, malicious things clean out of his head with one shot must be so romantic. Devi would have gagged if she wasn’t so disoriented.

She needed to talk this out with someone, and there was only one person she’d place that much misguided trust in. Her legs bent as she moved to sit up.

“Hey Nny.”

Johnny’s head bobbed up immediately, and again her stomach squeezed anxiously from his eager response.

“I forgot that I… promised to check in on my neighbor-friend. The rats have gotten so bad, I worry they’ll start eating her feet off while she’s asleep.”

Devi looked to the side, hoping such a stupid lie could pass as a bizarre truth. Johnny watched her a moment, inquisitive eyes darting around the space of her figure, before tilting his head acceptingly as he turned his attention back to the page.

“Yeah, the rats’ll do that. They always start ankles first.” Was his reply. Devi held in the nausea that she felt from how knowledgeable he sounded about the subject.

“RIGHT.” She balked. “So, I’m going to go run down and check on her, before y’know, the rats get at her. You just uh, stay here, keep working, I’ll try and keep it quick.”

Johnny seemed less comfortable about the idea of being left alone, but agreed as casually as he could. Devi didn’t hesitate to rush out, lest something stupid manifest to stop her from reaching her destination, again. Even if Sickness was neatly contained right now, she hadn’t forgotten the lengths the little tumor had gone through to make the halls of the building an impassible maze of shit.

Her strides got faster without her notice the closer that she got to Tenna’s apartment, and her heart steadily increased to a panicked pace as the direness of her situation sunk in. Her fist landed hard on the door, whacking against the cheap material franticly. A single concerned squeak was the initial reply, which at least confirmed Tenna was inside, and awake.

“Tenna, it’s me, open up!” Devi whispered as loudly as she could. It only took a few seconds for the door to open.

“Oh my God, Devi, he’s murdered you hasn’t he!?” She gasped, but didn’t receive any answer besides being pushed back inside her home. Devi released her grip on her friend’s arms to walk in paranoid circles around the living room, muttering curses to herself. Tenna watched her go around with large, kitty eyes.

“Oookay, so obviously he hasn’t murdered you.” She commented, growing more concerned the longer Devi hissed and spat at no one. “…Did you kill him??”

“No!” Devi looked at her, devastated. “I MEAN—YES!”

Tenna covered her mouth in horror at the admission, and Devi dropped onto the couch with her face in her hands. Tenna quickly scuttled to her friend’s side, arm slung around her in a messy hug.

“Oh shit, Devi! That’s – very bad!! But I bet he did something to bring that on right? Right?” She asked hurriedly. Devi rested her elbows on her thighs and hung her head down.

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck, FUCK.” She shuddered out. “No Tenna, he’s not dead. But I killed him. I did! I killed someone.”

“…Uh, what?”

Devi shivered, shaking her head again.

“You remember that night you told me to call him? And we heard a bang and a scream and all that?”

“Yyyeah?” Tenna looked away uncomfortably at the memory.

“The bang was a gunshot. He had something rigged up that if he answered the phone it would shoot him, and that… killed him. He died that night.” Devi stared at the ground. Saying it aloud was horrible. “But because he had those brain-things – or maybe it was the primordial demon living in his fucking WALLS – he got a redo. Satan sent his ass back here, mostly parasite free. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Tenna could only stare at Devi in concern.

“And he convinced you of all that?”

Devi immediately defended her certainty in the outlandish story.

“Tenna no, he was, like, having a fucking epiphany in my living room! You had to see him – he was absolutely losing it, ranting about how I saved him from his insanity and this and that – oh GOD.”

She fell back on the couch, melting into a heap on her side. Tenna patted her arm sadly.

“Damn it, Tenna, what did I get myself into?” Devi groaned into the cushion. “He’s still up at my place, and I have no fucking idea how I’m going to go back up there.”

“Poor, poor, foolish Devi.” Tenna sighed and continued her patting.

“No kidding. He was so bizarre about it, Ten. He looked at me like his salvation. Like I’m a fucking saint, or something.”

“Well, bright side, at least he won’t try to murder you again if he thinks you’re the Patron Saint of Destroying Head-demons, right?” Tenna thought a moment. “Well, he did try to kill you because you were his only joy in life, or whatever, so…”

Devi screamed her torment into a couch cushion for a few seconds, then sat up again, calmer now.

“No, I don’t think he’s going to try to kill me.” She said plainly. “At least not right now, anyhow. Who knows how he’ll be the more these… lessons go on.”

“You’re still going to mentor him?”

“Well, yeah, I guess!” Devi shot her hands out in exasperation. “If I told him to fuck off now that’d probably just piss him off. I don’t even know if he’ll leave me alone now that he likes me so much.”

Tenna could sense the repulsion wafting off of Devi with that emphasizing on “like”.

“Ewww, you don’t think he’d… try anything, right? All touchy-touchy?”

“Ugh, no. Thank God.” Devi looked up at the ceiling. “That was one of the things I liked about him so much, at the start. He never tried anything like that. Never tried to grab my hands or put his hands on me, or get me to put my hands on him all flirty-like – he didn’t even ask me out, I asked him. And that stupid… kiss, I initiated that too.”

“YOU wanted to give another human being a KISS?” Tenna’s eyes glittered teasingly.

“Mmughhh, don’t torment me.”

“You really liked him.”

“UUUUGH.” Devi slumped again. Why was her life so hideously unfair, constantly?

“None of those HORRIBLE choices matter right now. I’m freaking out over kinda-sorta killing this guy, and also that he’s totally enamored about it.” She exhaled. “I just needed to… let that out, I guess. Because I’m stuck with him now, for some unknown amount of time.”

Devi got up and stretched her arms and neck out while she walked. Tenna pouted.

“So you’re just gunna go back up there…?” Tenna debated momentarily if she should try and talk Devi into staying longer, or not going back at all, but any deterrent would be unlikely to work, knowing Devi, unless she had a couple of weeks to chip away at her immense stubbornness. She offered her some uplift-y parting words, instead.

“Well, I guess I’m glad you’ve been with him for like, an hour, and no death has happened yet.”

“Thanks, Ten. I’ll… call you when he leaves, or something. Wish me luck.” She sighed and left to return to her self-made mental turmoil.

--

LATER, UPSTAIRS:

“How’s this?” Johnny lifted up his finished comic to be inspected by his newly-appointed tutor. Devi pulled her mouth away from the straw of her now-melted Brain-Freezy and took the tablet from him, reading over his scratchy handwriting as best she could.

It was a fairly simple multi-panel Happy Noodle Boy comic, with protagonist hollering about ugly things on the street and committing acts of erratic violence. One of the comments he made was randomly about having head pain, and Devi wondered a moment if Johnny just used half of what was intended dialogue, and the rest was random thoughts that went through his mind while he wrote – in this case, likely a brain freeze. She decided not to bring up the writing and focused on the effort put into some of the panels.

“Y’know, even if it’s just stick figures, you’ve got a pretty good handle on perspective.” Devi commented with a lenient nod. Johnny’s eyes glistened a moment from the positive feedback, but made sure to flicker his pupils down and away from Devi’s focus when she moved to hand him back his drawing.

“I think your original talent’s still in there someplace, Nny. It’s like a drippy faucet, you just need to turn the water on – something like that.” She took another sip of her drink. Johnny stared at the comic laid across his lap.

“You said it was being “rerouted”, before.” He replied. Devi perked an eyebrow, but after a moment remembered their previous conversation on the cliff about the same subject.

“Well, if you’re not murdering creatively as an artistic outlet now, there’s only one place for it to go.” She peered down at him, and Johnny lifted his head in modest surprise.

Like usual, Devi was right. Compared to his life before the wall-thing’s destruction, he killed far, far less frequently, and definitely much less colorfully than before. He used to pull out intestines with salad tongs at buffet tables; break off limbs and reattach them to another victim with a staple gun; insert things that should never be inside a human being into orifices and then sew them up – now his killings were sparse, and straightforward in nature. A tire iron to the head of a truck stop bastard was a merciful attack, in comparison to what he would have done to him for the same offense a year earlier.

“I guess so.” He mumbled noncommittally, despite his growing certainty about it.

“You’ve just been distracted still, which is obvious with the existence of your Meaty guy. All I’m doing is making you focus your energy onto paper instead of letting it evaporate out of you.”

Johnny was silent a moment before speaking again, picking at his drawing absentmindedly.

“And what if that doesn’t work?” He asked. Devi stuck her lip out curiously.

“It will.” She affirmed, even if she wasn’t exactly sure of it herself, seeing as the only test of her theory was her own experience. But with those statistics, it worked one-hundred percent of the time, and those were good odds, right?

Johnny didn’t look totally convinced, but decided to trust Devi on the matter, for now. She had yet to steer him wrong as it was, and as she had implied before, he was the urchin in need of guidance, not her.

“Right…” He murmured as his eyes shifted away. Devi held in a sigh. She suddenly felt more exhausted with offering up her free emotional energy to play therapist to Johnny, and decided she was done for the night.

“Welp. That’s enough arting for one night, I think!” Devi announced with a pair of slaps against her knees. She sat up and walked from her seat to the middle of the room, as if to urge her guest to get up as well. She had successfully survived an entire night with her former attempted-murderer, and with the evening’s events still weighing on her, she was unwilling to let it drag on and invite something even weirder to happen. Johnny was surprised by the abrupt ‘last call’, and watched her move away with hesitant eyes.

He got up, if only to appease her, but the idea of leaving her side now made him a pinch more anxious than he would have liked. It might have just been a delusional sense of security, but it was one that he had grown quite comfortable in for the few hours that he remained at her apartment after his revelation, and the fact that he would need to leave had escaped him until she had said as much. In all likelihood, Johnny thought, Devi probably wanted to sleep, a bodily function that he often forgot other people did nightly. He wouldn’t want to deprive her of it, even if the concept of sleeping was completely unalluring to himself.

“Oh, yes.” He stalled while he tried to think of some small talk to distract himself. “That was quite a bit of drawing, for me anyway.”

“It’s a start.” Devi gave him a tiny smile, and Johnny felt he chest swell with pride – both in accomplishing the task given to him, and for seemingly pleasing Devi. He messily loaded up his pencil bag, then stepped around the coffee table to linger near her side at the door for a moment.

“So… do I come back tomorrow?” He asked. Devi’s eyes widened in surprise, mostly at herself for not even considering a time for this new addition to her schedule.

“Oh, uh,” She tried to think. “—maybe not tomorrow.”

Devi couldn’t tell by Johnny’s expression if he was saddened by that, or if his stare was one of expectance, waiting for instruction from her. Truth be told, he could come over tomorrow, but she wanted a some time to digest all of this, and maybe plan things better, if that was even possible.

“I’m going to send you home with er, well, homework!” Her mouth hitched up on one side in an awkward smile. “Just… draw a couple of things while you’re away, and bring them back in, uh…”

God, how she wished she didn’t have to give herself a countdown for this.

“—in, um, three days! Same time.” A wider smile forced over her face, and she tried not to think about how she had less than a meager seventy-two-hour window of no-Johnny time to rethink her life choices. Johnny wasn’t happy to have to wait that long to see her again, but accepted her judgement with as little pouting as he could manage.

“Alright, I will see you at 6:00PM, in three days.” He repeated aloud, more so to make sure he remembered than anything else. Devi nodded and opened the door for him.

“Great! Okay, see you later, Nny!” Her voice barely held back her deep desire to be alone now. Johnny smiled at her and waved a sporadic goodbye with his hand beside his chin.

“Bye!” He bid happily. Devi only waited for him to turn around before shutting and locking the door as quickly as she could.

Her hand remained tightly clenched around the last lock as she finally, genuinely, allowed herself to absorb everything that had happened tonight. Her forehead hit the doorframe with a forlorn thud, and her shoulders lowered pitifully.

Learning she had been the cause of Spindgey’s death as a child was hard enough to swallow, but at least it was medical-related. An asthma attack – it was about as bad as accidentally giving a kid with a peanut allergy a bite of your PB&J during lunch hour.

Knowing her actions had lead to the grisly, violent demise of anyone, let alone someone she used to… care about, was sickening. Truly nauseating. Her imagination was too healthy for her own good at the moment, visualizing Johnny bloody and broken on the floor of his house, a circular piece of his fucking skull missing. She suddenly regretted having seen so many horror films, as any and all concepts of exit wounds and brain matter haunted her in a fleeting flash of imaginary gore. It was only made worse by the new memories of his upbeat, enthused expressions from the rest of the night.

Just for a moment, Devi despised those new memories of his happiness that she had. They reminded her of the ‘old’ Johnny, and she didn’t want to picture him as he was before – how she had perceived him; as a comically-cynical movie nut and art buff. Someone that she enjoyed spending time with, laughing about how stupid people could be, and musing over whether this-or-that had deeper meanings. Mixing the image of his sneery smile that she used to love so much with any idea of how he could have looked in the clutches of death made her want to convulse in hurt and disgust.

She urged herself to her bedroom and sprawled across the face of her bed, before bundling herself up in a misshaped, unhappy ball. If the universe would permit it, she would be grateful to not think about him for the entire three days that she would be without him, but Devi knew without a doubt that the universe sucked ass, and that she would be plagued with constant thoughts of her new ‘pupil’ whether she liked it or not.

--

NEXT.

[ibitchytimemachine]

Chapters: 53/? Fandom: Dragon Ball Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Summary:

With Earth destroyed, Bulma and the Z gang find themselves in an outer space guerilla war against a tyrant. The mysterious Vengeance seems to be the only hope to win the war against Frieza, but teaming up with him brings its own set of problems.

 AU, ensemble cast but with focus on BV. Several other pairings (m/F and m/m) and non-romantic relationships get significant screen time.

While Vengeance often appears to be a light-hearted, funny story, there are darker elements running through several storylines. Warnings of non-con are for isolated incidents and don't reflect the story as a whole, but explicit descriptions of sex, violence, and general depravity are contained within these chapters.

Of all the Vegebul fics I have read, this one is easily my favorite. It has nuance, gives (almost) every character full and rich motivations and story lines. You find yourself rooting for the oddest pairs and weirdest people. I can not recommend this story enough, and if you wanna read my thoughts on it, lets dive into spoilers below the cut! 

So this story has something for everyone. You want thick well thought out and executed plot? DONE! Humor? DONE! Large cast of characters, both canon and OC who are all pretty well flushed out? DONE! Smut? Name your poison, chances are, its in here. There is so much about this story that I love that I am struggling with exactly the best way to organize my thoughts. So instead of agonizing over it, instead I am just gonna throw away all my careful notes that I have taken during my read and just freaking ramble! 

I think the first thing that people are a little put off on is the rare pair of RaditzXPuar. I will tell you that I 5,000 percent ship these two and it is all because of reading this fic. I love it so much that I MAY have even taken some time to draw my own fan art for the pair, but lets just leave THAT in the vaults xD When Raditz first encounters Puar, he is NOT a cat. Puar is in a Human form and is shifted to be Bulma. Raditz immediately is attracted to Puar’s scent and when they later encounter each other in a bar and end up ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ ) Ray is still just enamored by Puar’s scent. Whenever we see Rays POV in-between the time that Ray has fucked Human Puar, and the time that Puar is discovered, Ray keeps catching scents of the cat. And it drives him fucking wild. He later says that he is so crazy for Puar that he was about to fuck a houseplant cause it reminded him of Puar. Beyond that we get the backstory on Bonding and that basically Saiyans bond to a mate kinda at random so Ray has basically taken Puar as his husband. Raditz is really a great lover, there is a relationship imbalance between the two, but Ray doesnt take advantage of it. Its really a pretty healthy relationship. Puar gets jealous of some stuff, Ray gets WAY jealous of stuff but they always seem to talk it over. Shit at one point Ray dreams of having kids with Puar, and he is swiftly reminded that Puar is a MAN and will never be and never wants to be a WOMAN. 

A huge part of me feels like this Puarditz pairing is commentary on identity, self acceptance and love. Ray is constantly telling Puar that he doesnt care what his body looks like (except that he is excited to see Puar has a tail), only that it is Puar that he is in love with. It is only Puar Ray wants, no matter if he is a human, cat, plant, screwdriver or anything else. Puar talks about how he feels weird in his cat body, but it is his natural form and he wants to change and be bigger, more menacing, or just different. And I think we can all appreciate that sentiment at some point in our lives, but I can also see this as a low key message about trans acceptance and its fucking beautiful. Hell even Bulma tells Puar that he should take whatever form he is most comfortable in and basically fuck everyone who disagrees. I love that message and I love this pair - fight me. 

I really want to talk about another pretty complex character in this fic, Zarbon. He struggles with so much shame and negativity in this story. He hides behind his good looks and his hair, and when that shit gets cut off, Zarbon is a completely different man, it is shedding his old evil skin and literally growing into his own as a new man, a better person, and you start to care about him. His time with Frieza has basically ruined his ability to have any sort of healthy relationship - friend or other, because he resorts to sex for just about any close relationship he has. The FIRST person he meets after being rescued from Frieza, he starts bedding. Hell he promises a pity fuck to Burter for rescuing him, and come on.. I have never wanted a Burger sex scene more than when I was reading this fic. No really... Catgirl has a way of making you root for just about everyone... I think  that besides the slavers, the only character I HATE is Frieza, and thats pretty cool. AND Speaking of Frieza, shit hes a bad dude in this story. There aren't many POVs of him, and we see a lot of Frieza through Zarbon, Vegeta and Burter, but the POVs after Zarbon escapes and Frieza is trying to replace him is she fucked up shit. You really see his madness when he is sitting in the bloody tub stroking the hair of the dead attendant wishing it was Zarbons. He repeatedly states how much he gave to Zarbon, and how he basically loved him, but then you see him torture the poor man, sexually assault him, and generally just be a complete tyrannical asshole to him. 

The way the Nameks are handled is really cool. I love the nod to canon with them living with the Briefs on Red Station, I love watching Dende figure out how to lead, and struggle with his followers. I love how he makes the decision to room with Gohan as a way of bridging the gap between the Namekians and the Saiyans. The decisions Dende makes shows that he is dedicated to moving forward and not being stuck in the past. But you see him still struggling with things in the past, Zarbon for example. it is hella tense for a while when he first comes aboard because Dende feels Zarbon is responsible for the demise of his people, and Dende seeks out others help and advice on how to manage his feelings. He gets several peoples views and chooses what he thinks is the best, just like a good leader would. He even attempts to make Piccolo feel more welcome in the Namekian contingent of beings on Red Station.

Nappa is a super important character for the beginning of the story. He is the voice of Saiyan past and he advises Vegeta, wether he takes the advice or not. Overall he is the Father figure Vegeta needs (a common role for him) but he tells Vegeta and Raditz about bonding and Gohan comments that it sounds like LOVE. Nappa has some really shitty moments with Bulma, but overall I really like the sweet peeks into his head, when he thinks about his dead wife and babies, or when he tears up about the thought of Bulma and Vegeta having “little princes” of their own, is just heartwarming. And the attraction to Momma Briefs is cute and funny and provides so much ammunition for Bulma to hate Nappa (and boy do they hate each other)

I kinda hate how K18 gets treated in this story, and part of that is how long it takes for 18 to come about, and another part of that is the fact that the story isn't finished. I feel like 18′s android qualities are REALLY played up, which isn't a bad thing - great characterization in fact... but poor Krillin deserves so much better than being mounted with no foreplay and then immediately being engaged... Now I will say that I really like both of these characters in this fic, just wish things were finished cause their relationship has so much more to explore. 

I have both love and hate the Vegebul relationship dynamics in this story. They obviously care for one another, but the relationship seems super unhealthy... there is really no talking, relationship building going on in story. a LOT of fucking sure, but it almost feels like these two banter, fuck but don't really know one another.. and thats kinda sad.. I like that part of a Vegebul fic. Bulma is legit scared of Vegeta on multiple occasions and even in the last published chapter Vegeta looks at her and thinks that she is a monster just like him. And hell with her improvements to the Ki Circlet, she probably is. I will say that their smut is A++ fantastic, it is real, sometimes it is awkward (when they fuck in her lab it is both hot and funny) and there is always a mention of safe sex. 

With all the time spent on, pretty much everyone, including 2 OCs, it is sad that 17, Dr. Briefs and Tien don't get a little more love. They have very very brief scenes peppered throughout the story, and they just seem like after thoughts.. Shit Roshi and Oolong have more impact on the story than any of these three do and thats just a bummer. I am gonna say that maybe they have parts in the unwritten bots of the fic, but who knows if it will ever be updated, much less finished at this point. 

This story is fantastic. I can not recommend it enough. The relationship dynamics alone are fantastic, never mind the fact that Catgirl is FUCKING FANTASTIC at showing not telling, but even when she tells it is impactful. She has a wonderful grasp of character voice and each POV feels like it is actually that characters POV, told through them, not through the lens of a narrator. There are some amazing quotes in this story, some are just funny, 

Others.. Not so much.... 

These are a bunch of misfits thrown together, fighting to survive, and ultimately building a home. Hell Zarbon sees it and is shocked by it.. He says he is amazed by Vegeta “Floating around this country cottage of a ship, lord and master of an assortment of weaklings.” And Zarbon is right. Vegeta is the lord and master of this rag tag crew, and Bulma is their Queen. Their relationship is the glue that holds this little family together. This story is a tale of their struggle to defeat Frieza, but thats not what this story is ABOUT. This story is about, family, friends, love, home and ultimately all the wholesome things humanity has to offer. Sometimes we fuck up, and fight and create drama, but we persevere through those trials and (hopefully) become stronger, more well rounded and more human. And that is a really nice message. 

As a bonus, @rutbisbe drew this amazing Puar/Raditz fan art for this fic and I love it (AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

If you liked this review, after you check this fic out, head over to my A03 and read some of my stuff!