#me back on my black ops bullshit? more than you can believe

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[mitigatedchaos]

So one of the reasons I've been trying to take these breaks is that while Twitter is the home of most of the awful takes because the median Twitter user is dumber as it's a short-form website, Tumblr has its own bad takes, such as the above example.

I'm pretty sure memecucker is American, in which case...

There has been a significant uptick in homicide, raising the US back to 1990s levels even as homicide levels have fallen due to improved medical care resulting in fewer deaths - meaning this is undercounting the number of attempts relative to the 1990s.

OP knows there has been a significant uptick in homicide.

OP is not confused about this. OP is not too stupid to understand this. OP is not too uninformed to know about this - it's kind of a big deal.

If you pinned him (because he's not going to answer), he would claim that he needs to lie and claim that there has not been an increase in homicide, the most important violent crime, in order to "protect black people from racist police violence that will be caused by tough-on-crime policies."

The above chart is not per capita. I couldn't find a time series chart on short notice, but I'd wager the victims of the increase are basically all black and hispanic, because that's what it looked like for LA.

Now, since we're talking about murder and race, if OP responds he's going to immediately start in on some bullshit, so we're going to highlight a certain word again:

Please let us know, OP, if you are unable to see the color red.

Anyhow.

Long-term readers know that I've used the word "racial attachment" as a relatively neutral way to describe that some people care a lot about their race, and other people don't.

It's my belief that some people in every racial group naturally have some trait that tends to manifest as high racial attachment. It's just something we have to live with.

There is also such a thing as high partisan attachment, which is one reason orthodox Rationalists recommend "keeping your identity small."

I actually had written a post about this earlier today, but decided not to post it - although I didn't call it "partisan attachment."

There are, broadly, four tiers of alignment with the Democratic Party. The Democrat fandom. These are people who get their opinions socially, and don't have real object level positions. They will defend anything the Democrats do, regardless of what they believed last week or whether it makes any sense. Then there are people who do have a few object-level positions, but who are still partisan-locked Democrats, such as morlock-holmes. He has some ability to observe e.g. male gender issues separately, but has defined the party constellation's pro-"corrective" discrimination shenanigans as illegible to him, no matter how many times it's explained. Then there are people who have a relatively more mercenary attitude, such as balioc, who have an entire suite of real object-level positions and thought-out ethics, and will publicly disagree with the party's public-facing orthodoxy, but who will never vote for anyone other than Democrats. Other examples include people who vote D to preserve welfare spending and abortion rights and that's it. Then there is me. I was a registered Democrat during the Obama era, and spent years defending the Obama Administration, but left the party after 2017, because dude, seriously, what the fuck.

If you're a paid political operative or a beneficiary of a political patronage network, it makes some practical sense to have a high partisan attachment, because that's essentially your job. But if you're a voter, you're essentially a consumer - you are giving up your leverage, trading away some of the odds of your party being actually good in favor of an increased chance that your party ends up power.

From the party's perspective, if you always vote for them no matter what, they can direct some of the resources they would otherwise put towards you in favor of winning over some other more finicky (or more well-connected) client to get them over 51%. (Or they can just let infrastructure rot, etc.)

The people in the third tier, who will publicly criticize the party but will never vote for another party, at least have more leverage than those in the first and second tiers, while splitting the difference on being a loyal client that can be invested in without leaving.

So, what's the problem with blogging?

Guys like memecucker are going to just keep being like this on the object-level issues, so while it's necessary to have people that are going to go in and figuratively fight them hand to hand, they'll just wear opponents down.

There are two perspectives on this.

The first perspective is that ideological followers are useful in that they make it easier to win the battle since you only need to get their leaders on board and then the ideological followers will forget they ever believed anything else.

The second perspective is that rather than re-fighting object-level battles, it would be better to reduce the partisan attachment of OP and his readers, pushing them one notch towards reasoning from general moral principles, enabling a greater degree of cooperation and thus an overall improvement in the quality of governance.

You might call this an elitist ("regular people don't have the ideology-forming aptitude to handle this correctly; they'll just become QAnons") vs populist ("the average person can handle it") or even developmentalist ("moving beyond high partisan attachment is a natural phase in the development of a complete human being") approach. And that, alternatively, could be viewed as cynical vs idealist.

Addendum: Where does memecucker fit into this? He's not getting paid for it, but he's a relatively high-follower account, judging by some of his posts showing up off of Tumblr, and in a sense being an influencer of any kind is a bit like being a politician, and involves coalition dynamics.

They want a violent crime wave to exist so fucking bad but it never happened so they had to make a moral panic over shoplifting and loitering ie things people use as examples of the most minor types of misdemeanor crimes but even then they had to fudge the numbers with fucking shoplifting

[pollyna]

Tw: contain slurs, it's a single word but it's there.

It's a rule not to talk to them. Nobody really knows who imposed that or why, but it's something everybody follows, religiously.

(The fact is they know pretty well why not to talk to any of them. Ask the sailor who ended up with two broken ribs or the pilot with the black eye and dislocated shoulder.)

The bigger group they see together is of four or five when the Admirality is feeling generous and the woman comes around. But it's not just the four of them, because an equally numbered group is in another carrier or country doing what that group is doing.

What precisely they are doing, all of them, is the real mystery.

(Every squadron that has them, as a couple or all four, spends weeks praying to not be in the same situation ever again. The situation is: jumping at three a.m. in your jet in your pyjamas, six am and running around the carrier, nine am and debriefing, and then hop on the jet again and again and again. There were no limits on how high or low they had to fly, and unmarked jets passing less than an inch from each other's wings. Everybody on the normal communication channel, if not them.)

The sailors don't know if they have names, and before the beginning of the mission, they all have to leave their dog tags with the captain. Nameless people, on nameless jets and in nameless, patchless, jumpsuits flying only God knows where.

(They know their callsigns, or at least a part of them. The four are Iceman, Maverick, Slider and Mother Goose. The other two couples are Wolfman, Hollywood, Sundown and Chipper.)

The woman's name is Carole and she kisses the two taller men when she comes around. A kiss on their lips and one on their cheeks.

(The real reason nobody's able to talk to them is because a sailor, some Matthews from Philly, once tried to insinuate that Carole was easy. You already share her, so one more won't hurt, wouldn't he? The same day, another one tried to call Ice faggot in front of an entire room of people and captains. What happened next is just speculations but, realistically speaking, a broken arm and a couple of bruises were probably what they got home with. Other than the longest disciplinary note in the history of notes.)

(Some tales say that the Iceman didn't have to open his mouth to kill the man; one look was enough. Others want that Matthews from Philly got slap in the face so hard he saw white for ten minutes.)

When they're on board, the entire crew reorganises itself. Iceman and Maverick have their own cabin, Slider and Goose have another one, and they get the bigger one if Carole is going to come around. The entire floor is to be clear and free two hours before they arrive, and the newbie refers to that deck as the Olympus.)

If all the stories are true, they must have felt like Gods. And sometimes Gods have privilges normal people can't dream about. Like kissing each other before going on the jet, having sex in the showers without being reported, or preparing breakfast for your pilot without sharing a little bit with anybody. Having visible tattoos, particularly colourful ones, under the jumpsuits.)

The only time they saw them all together was on land, in a bar in Miramar, where three carriers were sharing port for a week. All of them were sitting around a table, eating fries and burgers like normal people, so normal that, if you didn't know who they were, you couldn't even say what they did. What really leaves the entire bar without words is when Mother Goose sits in front of the piano and starts playing Great Balls of Fire!

It almost feels like any other night in San Diego. But almost is the key word.

[little-bloodied-angel]

As another ex-Catholic, if I may? (TW for discussion of religious trauma and religious abuse, CSA and suicide)

See, I'm on the opposite side of the coin. Or the other, rather. I'm Crowley.

I was raised Catholic and brutally traumatized because of it. Everything you (OP) said? I've heard it, I've lived through it. I remember it.

But because of certain factors in my life, I was the idiot asking questions. My father is not just not Catholic, his family is Jewish. There was no way I was going to take the pill they wanted me to swallow at face value when I went back home to that every day, when I had my impurity written on my face, on the slope of my nose and the texture of my hair, even if they shoved it down my throat and I eventually believed it about myself if not about others. I could never be worthy, so I took a risk; let the sin fall on my shoulders and not theirs.

I did the whole thing. The praying and the fasting, the corporal punishment. I was Opus Dei. Only someone who's been through that can understand it. I bled for those beliefs. I punished myself, again and again and again. But when I learned to recognize a pattern, it never clicked with me. It couldn't. Maybe I was deserving of the suffering I was enduring, but how could these people be? I watched them suffer. I watched them die, sometimes. I kept doing what I was told.

I was one of those children of the Church you hear about. I took the sexual abuse with my head down and my tongue in check, obedient and quiet. I was not quiet when I saw it happen to others.

When it happened to my best friend.

But both of us were powerless. Both of us had nowhere to go. And my best friend? He couldn't even raise his voice against it, against them. It was his fault. He sidestepped what he knew was happening to me, not because he thought I deserved it, but because he didn't have the words to tell me I didn't. I sidestepped what I knew was happening to him, and quieted about myself; I didn't talk about it with all the hatred and rage I truly felt, because that hurt him. It was being by his side that wore away at my indoctrination more than anything else, and if I tried to turn this into a conclusive list of all the ways the Church hurt and traumatized me, I would never finish writing. I'm queer, for one thing. But there were more things.

Then he died. He didn't survive his own quiet hurt.

And I didn't fall from grace, I jumped.

I let all my scars into the open air. I dressed in black for ages, somewhat ironically. I stopped caring if my words were going to earn me a mouthful of blood. I lost him and all I cared about was hurting them back.

(I still hadn't processed the trauma. I was bitter and jaded, but I depersonalized it, separated the lessons themselves from religion, made excuses for the CSA for a decade, entered another abusive relationship with a man that claimed to hate the Church as much as I did but treated me in the same way that they did in all the ways that mattered. I fell into repeat patterns and I have been unlearning that bullshit for the rest of my life, and probably still will).

So my knee-jerk reaction when Aziraphale suggested Crowley go back to heaven, become an angel again, was to instinctually pair that with the countless snide remarks over the centuries, completely forget the part they played in THEIR game, not Aziraphale's, completely forget they were part of his own way of justifying things to himself, completely forget that Aziraphale isn't the only one here that knows how to play his partner like an upright bass, because guess what? I'm still hurting. How dare he ask Crowley to go back to his abusers? How dare he ask him to become one of them again? All I could see was my own brand of religious trauma, my best friend going back to that house of torment every day, how the suffering of someone I loved was what got my own eyes wide open, and how I could have never demanded something like that of him.

And then I sat with that for a while, and remembered the context of things (such as that derisive comment about how "of course" the Nazi agents work for Crowley being immediately followed by "I trust you enough to have you shoot at my face and know you won't hit me") and remembered, more importantly, that there's an element of mine and my friend's relationship that's almost entirely missing here.

I knew everything that was happening.

So do we, as the audience. Which is often the problem with so many things: we tend to forget which characters do not know the things we do. Aziraphale knows Crowley is traumatized by his Fall. He knows that Hell is terrible. He doesn't know until the very last minute that Crowley very much thinks Heaven is just as bad, and not just about the War and not just as a comment that he says in passing. And by then, there was nothing he could do but leave. And of course, he hasn't processed that Heaven hasn't been awful to him specifically (and that he didn't deserve it), it's just awful in general.

Look, I may joke about it because that's how I cope and I project on Crowley for the reasons stated above, like that post about Jeff Bezos I reblogged. But when it comes down to seriously analyzing this, Aziraphale isn't less traumatized than Crowley; his trauma manifests itself differently. And that's not the same thing.

Do I want to see him apologize? Yes, but not grovel. I want to see him understand the full scope of what Crowley feels and apologize, because that's the normal reaction to understanding that you've fucked up a LOT worse than you thought you had. But he didn't do what he did out of malice. It wasn't evil. It was misguided and it hurt, but he doesn't know how badly or why yet. You want the evil villain? That's the fucking Metatron. You want to change the context of things and use them as a base to write villain Aziraphale fanfic? Go right ahead, I've read a couple very good ones with that premise. But don't pretend it's canon, for whoever's sake. And if people whose religious trauma looks like OP's, looks like Aziraphale's, are telling you that you're hurting them, then keep that in mind. Like, very firmly in mind. No fictional character or TV show or headcanon is ever worth hurting another actual human being. If you're so mad at Aziraphale and can't see anything else... That's what "critical" tags are for, go at it. But again, remember that no piece of fiction is worth hurting real people over. Especially not about stuff like this.

(I know this got long; OP I really hope you don't mind the contribution from the "Crowley side of things", so to speak. Just wanted to show that even if you empathize with Crowley more, or more easily, that's no reason to assassinate Aziraphale's character, and everything you said about the Church resonated way too much for me to not respond)

Invisible scars

(TW: religious trauma)

Looking at me, you wouldn't know that I've survived religious trauma. The marks of religious trauma are seldom visible. In fact, I had no idea for the longest time that I had religious trauma (I thought it was a thing that happened to other people). I simply spent decades questioning the reasons I felt like I was so broken on in the inside. I kept trying to figure out what I was doing wrong and why I never felt happy or like I was never able to connect to anyone. I had no idea that my experience with the church as a small child is what shaped me into the anxiety-ridden, majorly depressed disaster creature I am today.

I spent 12 years learning inside of Catholic schools. It has taken me more than 20 years to process and deconstruct, and I am always going to be a work in progress. I was brainwashed into believing the very worst about myself, and I was always just beyond saving because I had the misfortune of being a woman in a church that taught us that women experience pain during childbirth as a natural consequence of Eve eating the apple, which is why they enjoy making us suffer in the first place. They taught us that Adam ate the apple because Eve seduced him, so even though Adam also ate the apple, his sin still wasn't as bad as Eve's because she did it first and used sex to get him to do the same. They placed the blame for Original Sin squarely on Eve and thus onto every single girl who entered the church. If a boy did something to me that I didn't like, it's probably because I did something to provoke him first.

Do you know what I learned to do at a very young age just to be able to cope with that?

I learned to use humor to deflect when I was struggling. I smile when I don't want people to know I'm sad. I laugh at inappropriate times, especially when I'm uncomfortable. I learned to bottle up all of my emotions because expressing anything other than happiness is bad. I learned to compartmentalize. I taught myself how to pull out the right emotion for the right occasion because I was always striving to be who I thought everyone else wanted me to be. It was exhausting.

In the midst of all of this, I'm trying to figure out which parts of me are really me and which parts of me are things that were put into my head. If you've experienced indoctrination, you know what I'm talking about. They pulled us apart as small children and placed us in specific boxes and told us that deviating from the norm was bad.

Crowley is a fallen angel. His change from angel to demon is drastic on the outside.

You know he fell and that his wings turned black and he ended up in a pool of boiling sulfur. It's the reason Crowley is so easy to sympathize with. He suffered unfairly because of arbitrary rules that deemed him unforgivable. He's accepted that part of himself. He's clever and creative and it has helped him find ways to get out of doing his job for centuries. Hell doesn't care how jobs get done just as long as someone does them, and at this point humanity is doing more to damn themselves than the demons are able to keep up with. They're tired and overworked. Hell is overpopulated even though it should be infinite in size. Crowley wants no part of that system because he sees it for what it is, just as he sees Heaven for what it is. He has the marks to prove that he is one of the damned, but that has given him all the perspective he needs to see that both sides are fucked up and toxic and "irredeemable" (just like him). He has yet to fully let go of the hold Heaven has over him because of how badly he got hurt.

Aziraphale is still an angel.

He never fell, and he doesn't know why. He has lied to God. He has lied to Gabriel repeatedly. He lies to protect Crowley. He lies to protect humanity.

Remember, Crowley and Aziraphale started off in the same place.

They both started off as angels who were created to do God's bidding. Aziraphale is the one who told Crowley what he'd heard about everything shutting down in 6,000 years. He was simply trying to make conversation. He didn't think it was something Crowley would object to. Angels were just supposed to go along with God's plans, but Crowley had a different opinion and was vocal about it. Where did Aziraphale get his information in the first place? Why does nobody ever ask this question?

Aziraphale knows Heaven is toxic. He's not blind. We need to move past this idea that because he still has love for God that he doesn't know Heaven is fucked up. He never fell, and it's something he still fears because who the hell doesn't fear the thought of eternal torment, especially if you know it's real? God has never cast him out of Heaven though and he doesn't know why. It's probably something that hangs over his head like the Sword of Damocles.

Letting go is not an easy task. Aziraphale has always been an angel. He didn't have his identity ripped from him the same way that Crowley did. Crowley had to adapt to a brand new way of existing because he was cast out of Heaven.

Crowley's trauma is evident on the outside. Aziraphale's trauma is hidden on the inside. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there.

Crowley was an angel and then he was a demon, but he doesn't want to be labeled as either.

Aziraphale has only ever known how to be an angel. He's only ever known the ways of Heaven.

I'm only in my early 40s. It has taken me 20+ years to undo 12 years of religious abuse. Aziraphale is immortal. He and Crowley have abandoned their jobs, but four years in the space of millions isn't a lot. No one overcomes indoctrination in four years. Especially when you had millions of years of blind obedience indoctrinated into you. It simply does not work that way no matter how much you want to believe it can.

It has taken me more than two decades to learn how to stop hating myself. I still have no idea how to love myself, but it's something I'm trying to learn.

My entire identity was wrapped up in what the church told me it would be. Once I fully denounced it and all organized religion, I found out I had no idea who I was. No one had prepared me for a life outside of this one very specific identity and role that I was expected to fill based on a very specific box I was placed into.

I still struggle with black and white concepts. It's hard to unlearn when you have no other basis for comparison, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. It means that these changes do not and will not ever happen overnight.

The fall didn't just affect the demons though. It affected the angels as well. Look at how tightly wound the angels are. They're always trying to do the good thing, but they have no idea what that actually means, and you realize this when Uriel asks The Metatron if they had done something wrong. They are scared of making mistakes, but none of them know what they are supposed to be doing since Gabriel disrupted the status quo. You can see they are unsure of themselves and of each other. The concept of free will is so foreign to them, but Aziraphale showed all of them that it was in their grasp when he allowed Gabriel and Beelzebub to decide where to go so they could be together.

It takes a lot of audacity (and sheer ignorance) to dismiss Aziraphale as power-hungry and abusive.

Aziraphale did nothing to punish Gabriel and Beelzebub. He allowed them to leave because they were in love with each other, and he knows what that feels like. He thought he was about to get the same fate with Crowley until The Metatron showed up and refused to take no for an answer.

He doesn't want to fix Heaven because he thinks it's perfect. If he thought it was perfect he wouldn't want to fix it.

Aziraphale is going back into the Lion's Den. He knows what he's going up against. He's been humiliated and belittled and abused by Heaven for thousands of years.

His scars are there even though you can't see them, and he hides his pain with humor and silliness.

When I see people advocating for Aziraphale to suffer even more because they don't think he has suffered enough, I find myself sitting back in one of those classrooms in Catholic school being told that I deserve the bad things that happen to me because I somehow failed to measure up to some impossible metric. The cruelty of that mindset aimed at Aziraphale is kinda the reason Crowley hates Heaven in the first place because he's been there too.

And as someone who is processing religious trauma, it's disheartening to see people say that because Aziraphale has yet to fully let go of Heaven that he deserves harsher treatment. Crowley would definitely not agree with that sentiment.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

congrats on 300!! you absolutely deserve it and more. and since we all love some angst how about 22. “Look, he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.” with harry saying that to draco because the more hurt the better. or 20. “Could you just take this pain away ? It hurts, so much… Help me.” set in hbp were their dating and harry's having the voldemort nightmare were his scar hurts. whatever you want, thank you❤

Okay, I'm sorry In advance. Thank you anon. Prompt 22 updated on list.

Just one eclipse

Dialogue Prompt 20- could you take this pain away? It hurts so much .. help me

TW- ANGST | HURT MOSTLY LESS COMFORT

" so much pain for someone so young "

" hey i know I'm a bit late but I was just picking up these Oran- harry ?" Draco immediately crouched to the ground next to a weeping harry, rubbing his back.

" love, hey, hey, what happened ?" Draco asked as he sat down properly over the ground, trying to calm him down but harry kept sobbing in draco's white shirt, soaking him through.

" harry, what happened ? Did someone say something to you or what ?" Draco whispered as he passed his hands through Harry's hair after having embraced him in a hug.

" it hurts " harry choked on his own sobs.

" where? Where does it hurt ?" Draco asked as he created some distance between them to see any signs of any injuries upon his boyfriend..

" it hurts and I'm so tired of it " harry sobbed again.

Draco frowned as he wiped Harry's tears from his sleeves, kissing his forehead.

" what happened harry ?" He asked again.

" I can't sleep " harry replied in soft whimpers.

" why ?" Draco asked again as he harry hiccupped.

" these nightmares. They don't go away. It still hurts " harry replied

" even after those sleeping potions and those muggle sleeping pills ?" Draco asked

" I thought they'd stop but they didn't. He still" he hiccupped " comes in my dreams. I can see him murdering people, torturing them. It hurts draco. It hurts so much " harry started weeping again.

Draco's heart leaped with guilt as he hugged harry again, rubbing smooth circles on his back " it'll be fine one day "

" please, just- could you take this pain away . It's hurts to much " harry cried " help me draco, help me "

But draco couldn't. He couldn't help him except for rubbing circles on his back, kissing his face momentarily, assuring him that one day everything would be fine. There was nothing he could do. He swore he'd take away his pain if he could. He swore if he could take away the pain inflicted upon harry, he'd take it, he swore he would, but only he couldn't. He knew he couldn't.

But wasn't he hurting too !?

When they met again around the black lake again in the cold night a few days after December had begun, harry was doing better, he was hurting but he was doing better. Draco wasn't but he swore to himself he'd never let harry knew he was suffering. He couldn't afford harry losing his Sanity because draco was suffering. He just couldn't do that to him. In their little bubble, Harry was rested against draco's chest, his arms wrapped around his torso, muttering about the weird incidents happening in the school.

" everything's weird. These incidents. Who do you think are behind this ?" Harry asked softly.

Draco gulped as disgust brimmed his head but he replied in soft humour " you need to know everything, don't you" because draco wasn't ready yet, he wasn't ready to tell yet. He swore to himself he would but he was afraid of learning that he was thinking of breaking that swore promise.

"no, but it's just- it's weird. It's creating a bad influence upon everything you know " harry replied before he looked up and kissed draco softly over the cheeks without a reason.

" what was that for ?" Draco asked frowning.

" I gotta make these count you know, what if something happened to you and you have to be sent back home or something " harry shrugged looking back at the trees above them again.

Draco's face scrunched in disgust with tears glimmering his eyes. He hated himself. He so-

" hey, what have you been doing around the seventh floor corridor lately ?"

" what ?" Draco froze fearing he'd been caught, his heart racing faster. He couldn't tell now, not now, maybe after Christmas, not now.

" the seventh floor corridor. Around the room of requirements?" Harry asked with furrowed face looking at Draco.

" room of requirements is on seventh floor, I didn't know that " draco lied

" you literally caught me there last year, how could you forget ?" Harry asked as he straightened up and fetched their warm water bottle.

" I don't know. I never paid that much attention " draco shrugged his right arm crossing under his head, looking away somewhere in the forest to calm his nerve wrecking heart beat.

" can I say something ?" Harry asked after a while of having stared at Draco.

" yeah ?" Draco frowned

" why have you been so distant lately? I see it in your eyes, you're shielding something from me "

" what? No. It's nothing harry " draco assured him.

Harry still wasn't convinced but didn't question it again " you'd tell me if there's something right ?"

Draco felt everything inside him shift, like every inch of his body was rearranging himself as he looked at Harry's hopeful face. He was hurting not only himself but harry too. He knew the day would come when he'd have to come clean but the thought of Harry wanting draco to be alright, knowing that there was Something wrong with his boyfriend, knowing that draco was concealing something from him was crushing draco beyond comprehension. But harry came in his concealment too, he was concealing harry from the pain whether he was failing at it or not, he was. He was trying to.

" of course harry. Why would I hide anything from you ?"he smiled.

Harry smiled back " good " and drank his water again.

But maybe the happiness was bound to cease in their Little bubble on this very night of December, changing everything they had been through with so far.

The bottle of warm water in Harry's hand slipped colliding with the ground, drenching draco's left hand.

" merlin- I'm so sorry " harry rambled as he took out his handkerchief and tried dabbing draco's hand only Draco pulled away wincing.

" it's okay, it's nothing " draco mumbled crawling backwards.

" draco, the water was hot alright, let me just-"

" I said I'm fine " draco raised his voice affirmatively.

" draco let me just take a look-"

" I said I'm fine " draco sternly replied shaking his hand to drip the remaining water.

Harry rolled his eyes, dropping the handkerchief pretending to give up until Draco lightened up and pulled his hand when he didn't paid enough attention.

" see your sleeve's all wet" harry struggled keeping draco's hand to himself.

" harry, please, no. Just leave it " draco's voice broke as he struggle retrieving his hand back. Not today, just not today.

" Just shut up and let me see-" harry rolled his eyes as he oped draco's cuff Button's and started rolling his sleeve's backwards.

" harry, please no. I beg you " draco whimpered.

" stop being dramatic. Let me- " he stopped all together. His movements, his breathing, his hands, his mind, his heart, his body, everything stopped altogether when his eyes fell upon the dark mark.

" y-yo- you- you're one of them " harry stammered, his grip on draco's hands loosening too much.

" harry- I- I wanted to-to tell you " draco stammered, his eyes glimmering with tears.

" yo- you-" But Harry covered his mouth with his hands with a gasp standing up.

Draco immediately stumbled up, closing his distance with him but harry raised his hands to stop him.

" yo- you're one of them " harry couldn't believe him, or draco, or anything right now. Everything seemed too ridiculous to be believable but instead of Humour raising a laughter in him, his eyes filled with tears threatening to spill.

"I- I didn't wanted to be one harry, please just let me explain-"

" explain? What are you going to explain that you didn't have a choice. Save your bullshit draco " harry shouted.

" harry please-"

" no, I- I need to go " harry started picking up his thing's from the ground but draco didn't allow so, interrupting everything harry tried to pick up.

" please, harry, please let me explain " draco cried as he remained on his knees holding Harry's cloak in his arms.

" what will you explain draco ? And all these month's y- you lied to me. You being a- a- death Eater is one thing but lying, you lied to me draco " harry cried snatching away his cloak, putting it on.

" I had no choice. You have to understand-"

" no, you see, you had a choice but with your crippling fear of everything you became one. You betrayed me draco "

" you betrayed me " harry softly whispered and somehow it hurt more than the yelling. Harry saying he betrayed him crushed something in draco he didn't know existed, like his Insides has suddenly been filled with stones and he felt heavy. It was like every limb of his body was being torn apart by 3 simple words and draco couldn't stop crying.

" out of all the people, you know me. You knew me better than anyone else. You knew what he did to my parents and how I feel about everything yet you went ahead and became one of them " harry cried looking away as to look anywhere but draco.

" I'm- I'm sorry harry. I never wanted this. You have to understand I lied for your safety-"

" my safety? You lied to me draco. You hurt me like nobody else ever had and you call it safety. Use your brain draco " harry replied with disgusted expressions.

" I can't even look at you right now- and- and you kissed me- ugh- I- what did I ever do to you?"

" harry, please " Draco cried " please hear me out. You are the best thing ever happened to me but I never wanted this-"

" you- you tried to kill Ron " harry deadpanned with sudden realisation

" I didn't wanted to-"

" but you did.. I - I- what if it was me ?" Harry asked pointing his chest.

"I never wanted to do any of it harry. Please trust me-"

" trust you? Do you think I'd ever be Able to trust you with anything anymore ? I loved you draco- I loved you and you- you broke me " harry cried, his face scrunching in pain.

Draco's lips whimpered as he left out a harsh sob trying to approach harry but he stopped him again.

" you hurt me draco " harry sobbed with a heavy heart. He wanted to scream loudly, hurt draco, throw things at him but the thought of even hurting draco hurt him right. Everything about him hurt too much for him to do anything but cry.

" I loved you draco " harry whispered shaking his head and walked away with draco collapsing to the ground with screeching tears, his mewls and his groans. He left him there and he never Walked back to him. For him it was as If the world has collapsed, all of him had caved inside him as he sat there on the cold floor crying to himself how he couldn't stop the pain, how he hurt harry, how he broke harry. He remained there wishing to be dead but Today was when he felt too alive, because it hurt. It hurt to be alive.

____________________________________

Month's had passed since harry last saw of draco, month's since he saw him run away with death eaters on the day Dumbledore died, months since Severus Snape killed him. And harry had never thought of Draco until that day when a tiny black owl pecked Harry's window Only once, dropped the letter on the table and flew away just as silently as it had came.

Frowning harry picked up the letter, Turned on the night light and sat down on his bed reading the letter addressed to him.

" we're too young, too fragile to be in pain, to be in vain.

I know you loved me first but don't think I didn't fall for you too harry. Perhaps you fell first, I fell harder for you. I know you hate me with every vein that runs in you but that night if you had given me a chance I'd had explained to you everything but if I were you and you were me I'd probably do the same thing.

But I don't want to talk to you about that day or anything about that, I want to tell you how much I still really love you even when you hate me. I love you so much that I can live with knowing you feel at least something towards me, hatred be it. I had months craving sunshine in those dark dungeons, in the manor but then I realised, my sun wasn't the star that shone so bright in the day, it was you. You are my sun, in dying and in rising each day and maybe, just maybe I might even be your moon because we can never be together at the same time of the day. We can't be together, we can't be seen together because even If I am there, you're too bright, too good, too yellow that I remain dim, unrevealed. You're too bright for someone as dark as me and I understand that but I am nothing without you. There can be no moon without the sun. The Universe is blessed to have you in existence, and maybe we all are nothing without you but I read this that in an eclipse, there is the sun, the moon and the earth, our earth perhaps is our pain, our sufferings, our differences that comes in between, but in all realities I'd do anything to be with you even if it's for few seconds and you're only there to shadow me because every moment with you is worth breathing and without you, it's not. Even if I get to only to share that eclipse with you, I'd make sure it lasts forever, it'll be my little infinity.

Planet's revolve around you harry, but I hope you won't forget me.

I hurt you but I know I'll spend the rest of my life ruining myself that I had lost my mind to hurt you. And I'll spend my life waiting for you.

I hope in your big heart one day you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I will love you for as long as the Universe Exists.

Only yours,

DLM "

Harry sniffed, tears dripping down on the piece of parchment with already wet blotches from draco before.

And he only cried in memories of all the Times that were good and all the times there wasn't so much pain. All the times when he didn't try to focus on denying to be in love with draco, in all the Times harry still thought of him and it made him happy.

And he Stared out in the rainy sky, waiting for only one eclipse. Just one that'd last forever.

Never listen to sad rainy moods on Spotify if you don't want to cry. Since you asked me to tag you @drarrywords

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst Prompt requests open.

[libtard-blazkowicz]

What is a Nazbol?

Alright, so I’ve mentioned “nazbols” a month or so back. I’ve mentioned them a few times before and how they’ve infiltrated left wing tumblr. So what are they, and how do you recognize them?

Nazbol is basically shorthand for “nazi bolshevik”. They combine socialism/anti-capitalist ideology with facism, antisemitism, and paleocon trad bullshit. They are also known as commie nazis, national socialists, national bolsheviks, red facists, red browns, and strausserites. This isn’t just an online ideology, national bolsheviks have even taken to the streets. Here’s a wikipedia article if you want to read more. While they are infiltrating leftist spaces on tumblr, they are also accepted in the more traditional neo-facist circles too.

What this post is about is how to recognize them more easily. Many of them however are REALLY good at ‘hiding their power’ level. Hell, I’ve reblogged a nazbol meme once or twice unwittingly. On those occasions, I’d get a nice anon explaining that OP is horribly antisemitic or believes whacky conspiracy theories, I’d then check out their blog and find that anon is 100% right.

Here’s the nefarious thing about them: They can speak your language, and they will say a lot of things that a lot of people on the left will agree with.

Here are some examples:

-Antizionism, big time. Israel is the cause of all the worlds wars and problems to them. They won’t always clue you into the second half. They may instead pretend to give a shit about Palestinians. 

-Stuff that’s anti-imperialism. After all, every war and conflict is caused by (((them))), and it’s to bring down western civilization.

-Anti porn. They'll generally pretend to give a shit about sex trafficking victims. In actuality, it's because porn/sex is degenerate to them.

-They LOVE ACAB posting

-Stuff that’s anti-capitalism (Capitalism is Jewish. They don’t generally say it out loud though.) 

-Anti electoralism rhetoric (Voting is immoral)

-Revolutionary rhetoric

-Talking about (((the banks))), (((world finance))), (((the elites))), (((the world order))), and (((the globalists))) ruling over us. I made it easy for you by putting the echoes there. Nazbols however tend to be more subtle.

Here’s the problem though. These aren’t uncommon talking points on the left, and they don’t always have the antisemitic or facist undertones to them, so nazbols are able to camouflage themselves with these talking points. Now, here are some things that are unusual for leftists on tumblr. These are things to look for that can clue you in. They are:

-Conspiracy theories. Not things that are provably true through widespread corroboration and declassified CIA documents. I mean like 5G towers causing Covid, Covid isn’t real, 9/11 trutherism, conspiracy theories about mass shootings, references/allusions to Qanon, references to lizard people controlling the world, that sort of thing. 

-I previously mentioned 9/11 trutherism. If they are posting a meme that says “Israelis are the best dancers in the world. Google ‘dancing Israelis’ if you don’t believe me.” That’s a dead giveaway. It’s an antisemitic conspiracy theory that the Jews did 9/11. 

-I previously mentioned ACAB posting. I can appreciate a good ACAB meme myself. If they take it a step further and talk about shooting cops and share boogaloo memes, that’s not normal on the left.

-Paleocon trad bullshit, cottagecore stuff, return to traditional values, reject modernity. 

-Obsession with “culture” and “western civilization”.

-Unironic posting about soyboys/nu-males. Belief in alphamales vs betamales. This leads me into my next point.

-Antifeminism and/or redpill shit. It’s not uncommon for people on the left to criticize radfems, SWERFS, and TERFS. I do it all the time. However, if someone displays generally antifeminist tendencies, or outward misogyny or toxic masculinity, that’s a good clue there. 

-Blatant class reductionism. Class reductionism is a huge problem in the broader left. Nazbols however won’t simply say that “capitalism is the cause of all evil”, in particular, they will show complete apathy to sexism, racism, queerphobia, and other non class issues. 

-”We are the real virus”. Stuff that we would identify with ecofacism. 

-Here’s a very obvious one: Tokenizing Nation of Islam/hotep types, to spread the message that “See! The blacks also favor segregation.”. 

-Here’s another easy one. Race and IQ, and/or antiimmigration rhetoric. 

-Heavy usage of memes we associate with the far right. Examples: Clown World 🤡🌎, a proud cartoon Aryan standing up against a degenerate, soyboy/numales/phytoestrogens and soy poisoning our food, werhaboo german soldier memes, things that fit that pattern. 

So those are some some things that can distinguish them from other leftists. Now what do you do when you suspect someone of doing a dog whistle or being a nazbol? 

One thing you can do is when they post something kind of sus, click and see whom they reblogged it from. That should help a lot. Some are better at hiding their power level than others. Generally, the best thing you can do is if you can tell beyond reasonable doubt that a tumlr is a nazbol, just block them and move on. Sometimes I post my block list. You can do so too. 

 Calling someone out on dogwhistling isn’t always the best idea. I did this once when Bella Daphne painted clown world meme on a van and showed a picture of herself with an ok sign hand holding the paintbrush. People scoffed at it like “you think clowns and hand gestures are hate symbols? Idiot.”. One reason for dog whistles is plausible deniability, and so that you look silly in front of normies and anti-sjw types when you call someone out on dog whistling. 

[7soulstars]

Hello :) I hope it's okay to send a request (if not, then I'm sorry about it ) So maybe where Bucky lives on Clint's farm to get away from everything but then there comes this woman, Clints best friend besides Nat and he immediately wants to know her better.. after a while they get really close and develope feelings for each other but dont talk about it. So one night, she stays over and needs to share a room with Buck, things get heated and passionate between them ? :) then it's all cuddly? ❤️

Hey darling! Thank you so much for requesting! I am so sorry it took me so long! I blame it on my lazy ass and also on the many pending requests. Thank you so much for being this patient with me! I really hope you like this one!

Мой целитель

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Broken Bonky Babie, Avengers are teasing little shits, Steve leaves like in the movies and doesn’t come back (I want to kill him for that), Fluff, Shy Bonky and Y/N, Liddle angst, Both idiots doubt themselves, Y/N likes beating the fuck out of bullies a.k.a Violence, steamy stuff but not smut ( cuz I don’t write smut”

Summary: Someone managed to make Bucky accept the fact that everyone can heal. 

..............

Мой целитель ; (pronounced: Moy tselitel') Russian for My Healer

War never ends. It just rests. One day someone will come to ask your help that is when the rest of war is over again.

That is what Bucky has always been of the belief ever since before and after endgame. Ever since Steve left, most of Bucky did too. Yes, he had Sam and the others but Steve was the only part of his original past left and he couldn’t even stop him.

He decided that the rest period for his war conflicted heart had started when Clint had offered him a place to live at his farmhouse to ‘heal and stay away from the space bullshit’. 

Not to brag but he had fit right into the little family. The kids loved Uncle Bucky and Laura appreciated the extra help she got with the house. Sam and Natasha would come by every two days and the rest every once a week. They would go visit a bar and hang out. That was Bucky’s life now. That was his routine.

Clint had sudddenly announced one fine weekly team hangout day that his long time best friend would be joining them. Bucky couldn’t care less. He had seen people come in and out of the Barton house all the time. Most sending him glares due to his past. He couldn’t blame them. Not when he knew he would do the same in different set of circumstances.

But he was proved wrong. Y/N was an angel. More so to him. Not a single glare was directed at him by her the entire time. She just smiled sweetly. Maybe he did care a little bit.

Y/N turned out to be Lila and Cooper, Clint’s first two children’s godmother. She had finally come home after 15 years of being in and out of the country for her job. Clint had mentioned that every time she came back she would first visit the kids not forgetting to bring them gifts from everywhere and how the snap had worried her. So Bucky was not surprised when he had to get three kids off of her as she entered the house. His heart swelled when she said ‘Thank You’, although everyone said that. 

He was unusually getting attached to her and that scared him.

After Steve attatchment was difficult. Trust was difficult. But Y/N made it seem like child's play. She somehow completely saw through him. Almost as if she knew everything about him and he was confused by that.

Especially at those little moments when he felt hesitant.

Bucky was a handsome man no doubt and that meant some women were confident enough to ask hit on him everytime he was out at a restaurant or a bar with the others. Y/N would join them quite often and on one such day she saved Bucky from his anxiety issues.

"Hey.....you come here quite often.....can I buy you a drink ?", a very confident girl had managed to come up to the table and asked Bucky who looked at her with eyes as blown out as big as saucers and immediately looked down stuttering as he tried to politely reject the lady. A hand carefully wrapped around his metal arm as he realized Y/N had said "I'm sorry he's taken", before sending the girl as kind smile which had lead to Bucky's hair-hidden neck to go red.

Bucky had excused himself to the washroomas the rest relentlessly teased his popularity but he had not noticed Y/N following suit.

"I'm sorry", she had apologised leaving the other puzzled again. "W-why?" "I should have asked before touching you....I know-I know you don't like being touched....I'm sorry". There was pure sincerity in her voice "NO!",his own voice startled him and her as she looked at him in confusion. "I-I mean I'm glad....You helped me out there......Also.....",there was hesitation in Bucky's heart, "Also....I don't mind if you touch me Y/N".

That day onwards something changed. Significantly so, Bucky found himself calling and hanging out with Y/N more. She filled his thoughts would be one way of saying that and the Avengers noticed. So the next time Bucky tried to sneak out of the farm when the others were there Sam noticed, “Hey Hey Hey ! Where are you sneakin to ?”. The other stood frozen like a deer in the headlights staring down at his best friend like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. Nat smirked as she bit on her grilled cheese sandwich sing songing, “He’s going to meet Y/N~~”Bucky grumbled a little ‘Shut up Nat’ before taking the car out towards the bar.

“Buck !”, she had yelled waving as he smiled and pulled her into his arms for a hug and staying like that for a few minutes both eventually hesitantly letting go. Joe the bartender already having set up their regular drinks showed how often they frequented the place, even having seats that were almost always empty for just the two of them. 

After meeting Y/N, Bucky realised new things about himself. He liked sweet stuff more than savoury. He liked playing games at the arcade. He was definately much more open to technology than Steve ever was. He liked being spoiled and babied. And he was extremely serious about board games. He knew all this because Y/N made him realize that.

That day he found out another thing. He likes staring at Y/N looking at the sunset. In other words he likes Y/N. But he had promised himself to not act on it. He didn’t want to loose her. Not now, not ever.

Walking through a dark alley way was not something Bucky liked but with Y/N it was something he was starting to hate. Y/N is beautiful. Obliviously so. He could sense sleazy men staring at her but chose to stay put. But we all know that rouse wasn’t going to stay put for long considering a group of 3 men surrounding the two of them all eyeing Y/N. “Hey sweetheart why don’t you come with us ? We counld have a darn sweet night”, exclaimed the one that looked like the leader as the other two laughed behind him. “Back off”, Bucky had warned. He didn’t want to fight. He felt like he’d embarrass himself before Y/N. “Ohhh look who it is The Winter Soldier”, the other said mockingly. “What are you going to do? Kill me? You don’t have Captain America now to back you up do you ?”. Before Bucky could even reply the third guy let out a scream at which everyone turned to look at him to see him cradling what seemed like a freshly broken wrist and before he could even react the second one went flying into a pile of trash (where he belongs) and the main commentator’s head was being bashed strait onto the road by Y/N’s hand. “No, but he does does have an ex-black ops now turned into a CIA Agent to back him up”, she quipped seethingly through her teeth.

Bucky said nothing. His brain was still processing the information he was bombarded with. He walked Y/N to her car and drove back to Clint’s all while still processing.

So when Sam (who was just about to leave) asks “How was it ?” Bucky looks him in the eye and goes.

“I’m in love with Y/N.”

Tony had decided to prank Clint one fine day and told everyone that Clint was hosting a sleepover. So that meant Clint had to accomodated several idiots into his farmhouse. Within this chaos he also had a very great idea.

So when Y/N was pushed into Bucky’s room both stopped functioning.

Y/N spotted him angrily whispering into is phone as she got out of the shower. Throwing his phone into oblivion ,startled, when she called name out suddenly. “Y-You’re done ? Uhhhh you can take the bed doll, I’ll take the floor”,Bucky hates the floor but if it meant Y/N would be comfortable, he’d be ready to sleep on a block of ice. “Nope definately not ! We can share the damn bed Buck the floor uncomfortable !”, she argued. “ No Y/N you don’t understand I can’t !” “WHY! IS IT BECAUSE I MADE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE AFTER THAT DAY ?”, there was a grave silence between the two. He knew exactly what she was talking about. Bucky’s eyes soften and for the first time he realizes that he had never thaken the effort to know more about Y/N. He was focused on her helping him find himself. “Why would you say that ?” ,he said softly as he moved towards her and she moved backwards. “Because it is what it is isn’t it?”, she retorted. “NO IT IS NOT !”, Bucky sighed as he sat on the bed and watched the woman of importance as she paced around the room. “Why then Bucky ? You’ve been distant from me since that day....” “You won’t understand.....” “Try me” “I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU OKAY !” 

12 minutes. It had been 12 minutes since Y/N had froze and stared at Bucky. 

“Shut up. You’re lying” , she finally said.

“What ? No ! Why would I lie about that”,Bucky argued

“Because ! You are James Buchanan Barnes ! One of the most attractive men I have seen in my life period.”

“And here I’m the one firmly believing someone like me doesn’t even stand a change with someone as pretty as you.”

“See, you’re lying again”

“Doll, shut up before I will have to make you”, he warned

“Don’t make empty threats that you won’t fulfill James”, she challenged.

And with that Bucky has Y/N slammed into the bed , his mouth moving roughly along her’s as she puts her arms around his. There was something different about this Bucky. Y/N felt every single pent up frustration that the man kissing her had felt supressing his feelings had felt.

Soon enough they seperated, finally gasping for air. Bucky plopped beside Y/N as she placed her palm on his cheek rubbing a thumb over it while smiling at him blissfully. 

“Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you”

“I love you...”, she said and somehow Bucky knew he had tears running down his cheeks. He curled into her arms. Clint’s loud speakers playing Elvis as the two dozed off to sleep. But Bucky waited for her to doze off, kissing her forehead as he ran his metal arm through her hair.

“Мой целитель, I love you too”, he said. 

He wasn’t alone anymore. He was healed. His internal war had ended forever. That’s all he ever wanted. That’s all he was thankful for.

---The End---

Guess who almost cried writing this fic? That’s right! ME. Now I need myself a Bucky to hug. I really hope you liked this fic and I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH ON HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOU BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME! Please like, share, comment and reblog if you like my work to support me ! Please do not plagarise my hard work and thank you so much for reading! 

~Love, Hri

[myshadesofwrong]

As a historian, who has a literal degree in this (primarily British monarchy with some French so a lot of my examples will come from them), I am begging you if you’re going to be anti-monarchy, at least know the facts so you’re no sprouting the same tired rhetoric over and over.

Or in other words, OP is right (about the fandom and the monarchy)

Rants like the reblog from hotaurea make me so mad because the world and institutions are not black and white. The world, people, and the things we create like institutions have both good and bad and most everybody exists in gray. That’s just a fact.

I agree with the OP. No institution is perfect and evolve. Wilhelm could have been the lynchpin to help his institution evolve. Because, believe it or not, the monarchy does do some good. First, hotaurea is right in a way., Anybody can advocate for issues and charities but the monarchy has something you and I don’t. A platform. Their tags about correctly exposing that particular part as ‘bullshit’ is quite literally wrong. Every royal has a cause. Whatever you think of King Charles of England, he has for years been a champion of the environment, highlighting farmers and natural causes. Do you honestly think that the reporters and press would give a shit if he didn’t show up. Same with Queen Camilla of England. She champions and works quite a lot with domestic abuse charities. Prince William, Princess Catherine, and Prince Harry all constantly give attention to mental health issues. And Prince Harry has his veterans work. Now, we all can go and help each of these very important issues but our impact is going to be nil to theirs. Why? The same reason everyone demands celebrities speak up about issues. Platform. People listen. Now we can have a debate on ‘worthiness’ certainly. That’s a fair debate. But the truth of the matter is as the royal family, they have the reach and the interest from the press to bring more attention to the issue. Please no not negate that impact.

As for the ‘homophobic’ accusation, tell me you’ve never done actual research on the monarchy, any monarchy. I can name FIVE LGBTQIA+ monarchs or members of their family right off the top of my head:

Queen Anne of Great Britain (1700s)

Philippe I, Duke of Orleans, brother of King Louis XIV (a known cross dresser as well, actually openly wore women’s clothing at Versailles)

Edward II of England

Ludwig II of Bavaria

And my personal fav:

James VI of Scotland and I of England.

James is a particular favorite because the man was at least bi-sexual and literally commissioned the fucking King James Bible. You know, the one that all the homophobes use as “proof” of homosexuality being a sin. Pull that out at your next party/family gathering. I love seeing people’s expressions when they learn that.

Anyway, if you think monarchies are homophobic, you have no idea of the history. Y’all, historically, royals are fucking wild. Many straight monarchs actually had lovers both male and female. Some did marry and have children while others never did. But here’s my point, they NEVER hid them. These affairs or favorites were paraded with pride throughout courts. Lovers were given prominent roles in households, on councils, were advisors. It is a very modern assumption or concept really that monarchies must be straight and private. Did some hide them, yes. But go back through history and you’ll find countless stories of favorites being paraded around in from of wives, husbands, and courts. And by repeating that concept, you’re propogating conservative rhetoric is trying to hide LGBTQIA+ history. It’s that simple. And let’s not even talk about sex parties and the actual proclavities of some of these royals. Seriously, look them up. You’ll find out the true meaning of truth is stranger than fiction.

Now we can have debates over finances (reminder royals are not actual leeching off of citizens. They do have their own inheritance wealth, as well as I believe real estate is a big one. Again, the origin of the that is certainly cause for criticism but they’re not getting paid by your taxes) and actual worthiness as hotaurea put it but can we please have a non-extremist discussion on monarchy. It’s not either/or. There are good sides and bad sides to it, even in modern times. Actually, I would say modern monarchies are actually more relevant than their colonizer and blood thirsty ancestors. Modern monarch/royals devote their lives to charities and causes. They have no say in most governments and are definitely not sending troops out to war. But I digress.

Anyway, this is getting too long. I just wanted to point out the flaws in hotaurea’s little rant and add that OP was right. Wille could have been the son of a CEO of a big corporation and the story wouldn’t have changed one bit. It made his decision less impactful because we are never shown the actual struggle Wille could have had. Because you will never convince me, a good PR person would not have seen the potential in Wille after his speech and would not have let him champion a LGBTQIA+ cause. Imagine if Fatima would have been like okay, but Wille chose to go the safe route? That makes Simon’s reaction and his own work more impactful in the series. He even tried to tell Wille but it was WILLE who did not want to listen. In the end, maybe if they had shown the good side of the monarchy, it would have made Wille’s decision even more impactful instead of it looking selfish and impulsive. Or he could have stayed and shown what having a platform for good actually is but OP is right. And believe it or not, there is such a thing as IVF where Wille could have had a biological child. Shocking I know. Or a surrogate. Stop ignoring these possibilities.

Lisa was too stuck on the same rhetoric above instead of creating an institution that would have been nuanced and more realistic instead of a one-dimensional villain twirling their mustache.

Too busy to write a 5k essay it deserves but neither the audience nor Wilhelm saw the actual monarchy as an institution worth fighting for or at least worth considering it.

The monarchy was completely absent from the show. You could replace it with a billion-dollar publicly traded company and it wouldn't change the plot. Concerns about public image? Check. Out of control sense of privilege? Check. Spoiled children of rich parents? Check.

No one from the unrealistically small royal family was given a chance to demonstrate or explore the gravity and the positive influence a thousand-year-old institution can have. Does the queen have causes she particularly cares about? Does she invest her time into fundraising for them? Does she think certain problems are overlooked by the society and does she use her celebrity status to draw attention to them? We have no idea, we only have been shown her caring about the public image of the institution she represents.

Same with Wille: in the show he was never given a chance to explore how his status could be used for good. Were there young people for whom his coming out meant a lot? Definitely, but we never heard about them. Would it be equally important for others if the crown prince started openly talking about his struggles with anxiety? For sure. This list is potentially endless but the creators were never interested in showing anything positive about the monarchy.

[metanoiyed-archive]

The Ahistorical “Burning Times”, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History

*cracking knuckles* If you saw this post about this post, you know what this is about. If not, read them and come back. Without further ado: The Ahistorical “Burning Times”, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History.

“The important backdrop for this group is the time period that modern witches and pagans refer to as The Burning Times.”

So the first thing you’ll notice about posts or books that mentioned the ‘burning times’ is that they use very purposeful wording and diction. Notice how the OP says ‘that modern witches and pagans refer to as’ and not, “what historians refer to as”? That’s because historian’s don’t refer to it as the burning times, they refer to it as the ‘Witch Craze’ or ‘Witch Hysteria’, where many people in medieval Europe and America [14th-17th century, but 16th and 17th were the most popular years] were often falsely accused of witchcraft and hung - not burned - for the crime. During the Salem Witch Trials, especially, people like to say ‘we are the granddaughters of witches you couldn’t burn’ -- but no witches were even burned at the stake in Salem (1). Accusing someone of witchcraft was very, very often a political tool used by the Roman Catholic Church or others who operated under it to execute whomever they wished, but we’ll get to that in a second.

“Europe and America were thrust into a moral panic and hysteria over alleged satanic witches. Most of those accused were midwives, healers, poor women, women suffering from mental health issues, and women who were practicing preChristian traditions.” So... Yes to: hysteria, healers and women suffering from mental health issues and practicing pre-Christian traditions. No to pretty much everything else. Men who were healers or suffering mental health issues were also accused, but that’s because anyone could call witchcraft like a boy crying wolf and it was believed. In my ‘A Deed Without A Name’ notes, I go over how in some cases it appears that a certain aspect of people who are in some way different can indicate they’re touched, but often in the past I’m inclined to think in most cases it was simply used to execute people. Also, they killed people practicing pre-Christian traditions because they were racist Europeans and colonialists, and most of the time those pre-Christian traditions were by POC. 14th Century-17th Century is by no means pre-Christian, by that point a lot of folk belief in Europe had been touched by Christian belief, not so much that it entirely changed it, but enough. ‘Alleged’ Satanic witches? Are we just purposefully looking away from Isobel Gowdie’s confession before she was executed? Confessions of people [of those who confessed and were actually witches] who made deals with the Devil/Man in Black/Witchfather in some form are overwhelmingly common. (2).

“Many witches fear a return to the Burning Times, when any old woman was burned at the stake for merely existing below the poverty level.” I really have nothing groundbreaking to say about this one, just that I hate the OP for making me look at it and I hope they stub their toe. ‘fear a return to the burning times’ my ass.

“The total number of those murdered under the guise of witch accusations varies widely by source. Many historians have argued that the number is anywhere between 40,000 and 60,000. Other sources, however, have claimed the number is closer to 100,000 with potentially hundreds of thousands more unaccounted for. It has even been suggested that there were 392,000 in Great Britain alone. The highest number, and number that has become part of popular legend, is approximately 9 million (with the fullness of the Crusades and Spanish Inquisition included). It will never be certain how many women, men, and children were killed, and truthfully the numbers game is irrelevant in the face of trauma. Any genocide, no matter how big or small, is a moral stain on our history.”

Other sources? What sources. You don’t name any of yours, I noticed. ‘Any genocide ... a moral stain on our history’ yet I am sure you turn a blind eye to the plight of those right in front of you, while my people suffer a real continued genocide, you make a fantasy crime. Statista did a chart on how many people were tried and executed between 1300 and 1850, and the number is even lower than you think. (3). 

“The Burning Times were a systematic rooting out of female power and autonomy, and non-christian practices. The midwives and healers posed a threat to the structures and systems of politics and medicine... both groups challenging the patriarchy.” This sounds... so fishy. Doesn’t this sound like a weird radical-feminist argument? I’m not implying anything about OP, but the way this whole paragraph reads while trying to include ‘men, women and children’ and then focusing on how this was a whole attack on the women against the patriarchy just... grosses me out, a lot. Because it was never about that, has never been about that, and will never be about that. I also just don’t trust people who refer to women as ‘females’ but that’s just me.

“Most of the following women were (wrongfully) believed to have had sexual intercourse with Satan, signing their names into his black book with their blood.” Again, are we just ignoring Isobel Gowdie’s straight up confession? Or any of the other confessions from Scotland, England, and surrounding areas? This stupid purity culture of wanting to be seen as better to outsiders is so annoying. “I’m not like that trope of witches you’ve seen, we don’t actually have sex with the Devil or sign his black book with blood!” Just because some of us aren’t worried to get our hands dirty and you are doesn’t mean that other witches don’t do that. “wrongfully” where the fuck are you getting your information? Many confessions that they did get included detailed accounts of joining the Man in Black for sabbats, having sex with him, and signing his black book. Not everyone continues the practice today, but some definitely do, they definitely did, and it definitely wasn’t “wrongfully believed”. They were powerful women in their own right. If anything OP, by trying to separate themselves from the legacy of these women, has disgraced them in that way. It takes courage and strength to work with infernal forces from the otherside like that, and here this asshole is just shittin’ on their name pretending they never risked their lives doing it. A source on this from Isobel Gowdie, “As I was going betuix the townes of Drumdewin and the Headis, I met with the Devil, and ther covenanted, in a maner, with him.” and from ‘A Deed Without A Name’ by Lee Morgan, “As we can see when we look over the testimonies of witches from earlier times not everyone is initially approached by an animal spirit. Isobel Gowdie seems to have initially been approached by ‘the Devil’, Bessie Dunlop by a faerie man who claims to have once lived as a human man, others were taken by faeries or by the spirit of another living human practitioner.” (4)

And obviously there are various other sources, these are not the only ones. I’m just too tired to go through my library, cite them all, attach them all - y’all gotta do your own work for once. Read actual history, please. Learn discernment. I don’t even have the energy to go through the list of people the OP put as ‘in memoriam’ because I have no idea if those are historical reasons, either, but honestly I don’t even wanna know. Anyway, it’s bullshit and ahistorical, thanks for coming to my tedtalk. If you push this narrative you owe Black, Native, Jewish people and anyone else otherwise affected by the witch-craze repatriations immediately, I don’t make the rules except I do and those are the rules.

Citations:

Andrews, Evan. “Were Witches Burned at the Stake during the Salem Witch Trials?” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 13 Aug. 2014, www.history.com/news/were-witches-burned-at-the-stake-during-the-salem-witch-trials.

Wilby, E. (2013). The visions of Isobel Gowdie: Magic, witchcraft and dark shamanism in seventeenth-century Scotland. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press.

McCarthy, Niall, and Felix Richter. “Infographic: The Death Toll Of Europe's Witch Trials.” Statista Infographics, 29 Oct. 2019, www.statista.com/chart/19801/people-tried-and-executed-in-witch-trials-in-europe/

Morgan, Lee. A Deed without a Name: Unearthing the Legacy of Traditional Witchcraft. Moon Books, 2013. 

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 30 - Mission

Author’s note: no smut in this one :P

---

On one of the van's monitors, you watch a live video feed from Sana as she sits in the cafe across the street from the SM HQ main entrance, the long lens DSLR on the table next to her pointed right at its front doors. The camera makes a series of clicking sounds as Irene emerges from the building and steps into a waiting black car, an air of haughty arrogance following her every step of the way. From the back of the tech van, parked a few blocks away in a secluded alleyway, you watch as the still captures from her camera appear on a monitor.

To say there was a tense atmosphere in the van was a bit of an understatement.

You were thankful, at least, for the presence of Jihyo, who was sitting between you and Jeongyeon in the rear of the van, the three of you facing the bank of monitors, laptops, and other tech equipment that Jeongyeon was somehow operating - all at the same time, it seemed. Silence weighed heavy in the air, aside from the tapping of Jeongyeon's fingers as she typed out some indecipherable code on a terminal that you presume kept everything running smoothly.

Doing your best to ignore the tension in the air, you focus instead on the jittery picture on one of the main monitors - the live video feed from Nayeon's jacket camera. You watch as she nears the alleyway that contained the side entrance door to SM - the entrance code to which she had convinced Jay to give up earlier in the week.

"Command, Blue 1. At staging point. Ready to commence operation."

---

"Well that sounded unpleasant."

 You don't bother to look up from your desk, where you have buried your head in your hands. By the sound of her voice and the heavy click of the oversized combat boots she is wearing, you know that the young woman who has just entered your office is none other than Jeongyeon. The large black mens' boots gave her outfit a distinctly Jeongyeon vibe, given the fact that the rest of her clothing consisted of a rather formal looking leopard print cocktail dress.

 You hear her close the door to your office and pull up a chair as you rub your face one last time in a vain attempt to rid yourself of stress.

 "You wanna talk about it, boss?" she says, sounding genuinely concerned. 

 She was clearly referring to the way Nayeon had left your tech test meeting in the parking lot; given that the door to the van was open Jeongyeon likely heard everything that was said between you, including the way the older girl had stormed off after noticing Sana's clothing choice for that day.

 "What's there to talk about? Just another goddamn issue to deal with on top of the shit sundae that has been my life in the past six months or so."

 Jeongyeon crosses her arms and those long perfect legs, a look of worry on her soft features.

 "I guess it has been... rough for you the past little while. Maybe we should cancel or postpone this op until Nayeon gets over this? She seems a little... emotionally compromised at the moment."

 "It's fine," you answer, "she's nothing if not a professional. She'll be there at 3."

 Jeongyeon glances over to the wall clock. It was 1:15.

 "What exactly happened between you two?" she asks, hesitation plain in her voice, "I mean, I know what happened in your past is none of my business... but you two clearly have some history. It was a little hard to ignore the little soap opera scene that was playing out fifteen feet away from me."

 You look up at the young woman and take a moment to compose yourself.

 "Nayeon and I met in university. We dated - long term. But then I got a job offer from JYP that necessitated me moving away, and she got accepted into a Masters' program; so we broke up. It wasn't a... smooth breakup, to put it simply."

 "I'm sorry to hear that."

 "It is what it is. Believe me when I said her showing up to help us with this whole Irene thing is a surprise - to be honest, I never thought I'd ever see her again. She was the first person on the list of problems I hoped I'd never have to deal with."

 Jeongyeon takes a moment to gather her thoughts, bringing a slender hand to her mouth and tapping her lips with a fingertip. A couple of moments of silence pass.

 "You... seem to have a lot of girls on your list."

 You are taken aback by Jeongyeon's words - a little offended by her insinuation that you didn't know how to manage your relationships with women.

 "You know about my relationship with the girls on the team. You've never had a problem with that. And is it so hard to believe I've had past girlfriends?"

 "No, it's not that - not that at all. I don't mean to judge you."

 "Then what do you mean, Jeongyeon?"

 The young woman takes a moment to compose her words, apparently taken aback by your defensiveness.

 "I just... I guess I've just been bumped down another spot on the list."

 She casts her eyes down and away from you as a look of sadness overtakes her features. She had made plain her feelings for you, and to see yet another woman enter your life vying for your attention must have hit her hard. You immediately regret speaking so defensively.

 "I... I'm sorry, Jeongyeon. I misunderstood you. I didn't mean-"

 "No, it's okay," she says, waving a hand away, "I didn't mean to make things so serious all of a sudden. I'm sorry. I should go. I'll see you at 3."

 Jeongyeon stands and turns to leave your office, but she is stopped - when you reach over and grab her by the wrist.

 You weren't even sure how you did it - your body seemed to move of its own accord, quickly rising and reaching out for her slender arm, doing something, anything, to keep her from leaving. It was almost automatic, involuntary; and it didn't sink in that you had done it until Jeongyeon turns around to look you in the eye. Her eyes are glistening.

 "Jeongyeon," you manage to say, "I'm sorry. Please. Don't go."

 You stand there in silence for a few moments that seem to stretch out into infinity, your hand clutching her wrist, your eyes searching for something in each others' that neither of you were quite sure could actually be found.

 "I need to know," Jeongyeon finally says, her voice surprisingly stern, as though she were mustering every ounce of courage she had to speak, "I need to know if we're ever going to happen. I've told you I would wait for you while you figured yourself out... but I'm tired of waiting. I need to know. I need to know if you're ever going to be with me."

 "Jeongyeon," you say, unable to come up with anything else to say. Jeongyeon's eyes are glassy with tears, but the tone of her voice is strong and confident.

 "I need to know if you feel the same way. I need to know if I'm ever going to be more than just another girl on your list."

 "I..."

 "Why can't you see it?" she interrupts, her frustration and anger lending her voice strength, "Why can't you see how much stress and drama and heartache all these other girls are causing you? Momo, Sana, Nayeon - all these other girls - all they do is burden you. All you do is deal with their bullshit. Why can't you see how easy it would be if we were together? Why can’t you see how much I care about you?"

 You had known for a long time about Jeongyeon, and how she felt about you. She had told you as such on multiple occasions - and it was evidently obvious enough that others around the office had noticed it, too. You are suddenly unable to look at her in the eye anymore, and instead your gaze drifts down to where you are still clutching her wrist - except you aren't holding her there anymore, your hand having drifted down of its own accord to hold her hand in yours.

 It wasn't until just then, with your hand clutching hers, that you realized how you felt. Everything she said - everything she said about the drama the other girls had brought into your life, and the unending need to handle everything they threw at you - it was all true. 

 And here was a woman who wanted you, only you, and nothing else. And yet you'd done nothing but lead her on, nothing but merely acknowledge her feelings for you even while you went off and dealt with other women, even while she waited for you, patiently, waiting for you to realize how wonderful a relationship with her could be. She was beautiful and smart and funny and everything you ever needed - why hadn't you seen it earlier?

 You want to say something to her, something that will lay bare your feelings - but she doesn't give you the opportunity. She lets go of your hand, and your heart aches at the separation.

 "You know what hotel room I'm in," she says, her tone still strong even if her eyes were not, "come to me tonight, once this is all done. Then I'll know. If you don't, then we can forget anything ever existed between us. I'll give up my feelings for you, and we can go back to just being co-workers with benefits."

 She turns and walks out of your office, but she lingers around the door before leaving.

 "Either way, I'll be one less problem on your list."

 ---

 "Command, Pink 1. Positive ID on VIP leaving the building. Sending confirmation images."

 "Pink 1, Command. Acknowledged. Standby for further orders."

 On one of the van's monitors, you watch a live video feed from Sana as she sits in the cafe across the street from the SM HQ main entrance, the long lens DSLR on the table next to her pointed right at its front doors. The camera makes a series of clicking sounds as Irene emerges from the building and steps into a waiting black car, an air of haughty arrogance following her every step of the way. From the back of the tech van, parked a few blocks away in a secluded alleyway, you watch as the still captures from her camera appear on a monitor.

 To say there was a tense atmosphere in the van was a bit of an understatement.

 You were thankful, at least, for the presence of Jihyo, who was sitting between you and Jeongyeon in the rear of the van, the three of you facing the bank of monitors, laptops, and other tech equipment that Jeongyeon was somehow operating - all at the same time, it seemed. Silence weighed heavy in the air, aside from the tapping of Jeongyeon's fingers as she typed out some indecipherable code on a terminal that you presume kept everything running smoothly.

 Doing your best to ignore the tension in the air, you focus instead on the jittery picture on one of the main monitors - the live video feed from Nayeon's jacket camera. You watch as she nears the alleyway that contained the side entrance door to SM - the entrance code to which she had convinced Jay to give up earlier in the week.

 "Command, Blue 1. At staging point. Ready to commence operation."

 "Blue 1, Command. PID on VIP leaving the building. Be advised, nest is empty, lights are green," Jihyo answers.

 "Blue 1 acknowledges. Commencing."

 You might have just imagined it, but from the second Nayeon had declared she was starting the operation the way she walked seemed to have changed - if the decreased shakiness of the video feed was anything to go by; her steps seemed more stable as she adopted the persona of an SM employee. As you had predicted, she was nothing but professional once she got to work.

 She reaches the keypad to the nondescript black door on the side of the building, and without hesitation - for she knew she was probably on camera - she punches in Jay's code on the keypad next to it. Through the camera's audio feed you hear a loud beep and the click of what was probably the door unlocking. The three of you in the van breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that Jay's code had actually worked - the first of many hurdles.

 Nayeon opens the door and enters the building. The hallway she steps into is basic, nothing out of the ordinary. Jay had said that Irene used this entrance as a way to meet contacts that she didn't want to be seen walking in through the front door, and so you weren't surprised by the mundane nature of the hallway - a stark contrast to the otherwise sleek, hypermodern design that pervaded the rest of the building.

 There is a single door to the left, and Nayeon strides toward it, every step confident, self-assured, seeming to anyone watching (and she probably was being watched, if the numerous security cameras were any indication) that she belonged there.

 Beyond the door is a simply furnished waiting room, with two leather couches in the middle of it, a coffee table between them, and a desk next to the only other door out of the room - a desk with a very surprised looking receptionist.

 The receptionist, a young woman, stands, seemingly surprised by Nayeon's entrance. She bows cautiously and greets her in Korean. Even without understanding the language you know she is asking what Nayeon's business is, and presumably whether she has an appointment. The two begin to converse politely.

 "Nayeon told her she doesn't have an appointment - but that Irene is expecting her," Jihyo translates, "she's telling the receptionist she'll just wait in Irene's office."

 Nayeon continues towards the door to Irene’s office, not giving the receptionist an opportunity to stop her. The nervous looking receptionist does her best to physically get in Nayeon's way, an apologetic tone in her voice as she gestures towards the leather couches, presumably so she could confirm Nayeon's identity with Irene before allowing her inside.

 Nayeon's demeanor changes - and even without knowing the meaning of her words you can detect the introduction of venom into her tone.

 "She's insisting Irene is expecting her, and that she should be let into her office. The receptionist wants her to sit and wait for Irene."

 The two go back and forth for awhile, and the faux impatience and anger in Nayeon's tone steadily rises. The girl could act - the sheer, utter confidence she carried in her personal life served her well in her professional one as well, it seemed.

 "She's threatening the receptionist," Jihyo translates with a small, subtle grin on her lips, "she's saying if she doesn't let her into Irene's office, Irene will hear about it and it'll cost her her job."

 The young receptionist is visibly flustered, and you feel a momentary sense of pity at the situation Nayeon had put her in. Nayeon, however, feels no such sympathy, and with a few more terse words that sound like a command and a sharp nod of her head towards the door, the receptionist reaches over and opens the way to Irene's office. The receptionist bows deeply in apology as Nayeon enters and slams the door behind her. 

 Nayeon was now where she needed to be - Irene’s office, where she decided there was the best chance for finding something to incriminate Irene and SM. The office consisted of a large wooden desk with a laptop on it, and behind that a series of minimalist filing cabinets. Irene’s leather desk chair was large and opulent, but facing the desk for her guests were two spartan chairs; it was a layout meant to place Irene in a position of power with whomever she met, leaving no doubt as to who was in charge. 

 "Command, Blue 1. I'm in. Commencing search."

 Almost immediately a sense of urgency that wasn’t there previously overtakes Nayeon, as though a switch had been flipped inside her; she dashes over to the desk, producing a USB drive that Jeongyeon had equipped her with. She quickly plugs it into the presumably locked and encrypted laptop.

 “Give me five minutes,” Jeongyeon says, as she quickly begins typing code into a terminal.

 Nayeon doesn’t waste any time, and she quickly turns to the filing cabinets. She pulls the first one open and begins rifling through the paper files she finds inside, pulling a few folders out and placing the contents onto the desk. She pulls out her phone, and immediately begins taking photos of the documents.

 This goes on for a few minutes, and while there was no immediate threat to her, you still found yourself worried for Nayeon’s safety; at any moment SM security could have burst through the door and caught her red handed. Every second she spent on SM property, she was in danger.

 “I’m in!” Jeongyeon announces, seemingly having gained access to the contents of Irene’s laptop, “I’m downloading to the drive.”

 “How long will that take?” Jihyo asks.

 “About ten minutes. There’s terabytes of data here,” Jeongyeon answers. As Nayeon’s device downloads text and images, previews of each file scroll on one of the monitors in front of you.

 “Blue 1, you’ll have to hold for ten minutes,” Jihyo relays.

 “Understood,” Nayeon replies, not skipping a beat as she returns the files she is working on to the drawer before grabbing another handful and starting again. You don’t have time to look at exactly what she is photographing, but you do catch glimpses of the JYP logo - several black and white photo of members of your team, obviously taken from a long distance.

 You watch Jeongyeon bring a hand to her mouth in shock as several photos of her at a cafe with Choa flash briefly on the monitors.

 “Fucking bitch,” Jihyo says out loud. Briefly, her entire service record flashes on the screen - her resume, her case records, even her psych evaluations.

 “How the hell did she get all this shit? What the hell is she planning?” Jeongyeon hisses, still in shock. Neither Jihyo nor you are able to answer. Your fists clench in anger at the scale of Irene’s newly discovered treachery.

 “Jesus, there’s a lot here,” Nayeon quips as she flips through another folder and snaps more pictures, “plenty enough for invasion of privacy charges, at least.”

 “That’s not enough,” you snap, “we need to catch her on more. I want her in jail.”

 “I agree - there has to be something more substantial,” Jihyo adds, “something that implicates her in something big.”

 Nayeon continues her search, finishing up with her current folder before returning it to the cabinet. Instead of grabbing the next one in order, she flips through the files, evidently looking for something with an interesting label.

 Her fingers stop suddenly when a black folder comes into view - it is grainy and blurry on the video monitor, but even you can see that it was clearly a folder of importance. 

 On the label for the folder are two stark letters: YG.

 “That’s it,” Jihyo says with a tone of urgency, “that’s gotta have something on the YG case!”

 “The YG case?” You ask. You had known that Irene had played some part in the recent fall of one of the larger companies in your industry, but you didn’t know many of the details.

 “YG was one of the big players, “Jihyo explains, her eyes not once straying from the monitor where Nayeon has begun combing through the file, “until a few years ago, when Irene brought down their leadership with a combination of blackmail and bribery. Rumour had it their R&D group was on the verge of a tech breakthrough - until all four members of their core research team disappeared.”

 “Disappeared?” Jeongyeon asks.

 “Yeah - one day they were here, the next day they were gone. Since everyone knows Irene had a hand in bringing down the company, everyone just assumed she had a part to play in their disappearance too, but there isn’t any evidence to prove that. SM didn’t debut any new tech after taking down YG either, which they would have done if they’d had a hold on the R&D group’s work.”

 “Jesus…” Jeongyeon hisses; she knew first hand what Irene’s people were capable of, having been a victim of it herself. “Is it possible that the team went into hiding? What if they knew Irene was on their tail, and they went underground to keep SM and Irene from getting their hands on the tech they were working on?”

 “That’s a possibility,” Jihyo answers, “we know SM wanted to take YG down because they were a business rival, but the possibility of stealing their tech at the same time is probably what motivated them to send Irene after them.”

 Nayeon continues her scanning of the files - until a knock on the door of the office startles her and the three of you in the van.

 Nayeon freezes for only a moment until her training kicks in and she moves, with admirable calm, into action.

 “Command, Blue 1. Update on the drive?”

 “Blue 1, Command. Six minutes,” Jihyo answers after glancing over at Jeongyeon’s screen.

 Nayeon closes up the YG file and places it on top of the laptop, covering up the USB drive, before walking towards the door. Taking a breath, she opens it swiftly. On the other side of the door is a tall, slim man in a perfect black suit, the earpiece in his ear and his overall appearance marking him out as a likely member of SM’s security team. Next to him is the receptionist, a nervous look on her features.

 Nayeon questions the man with a terse tone, as though she were annoyed at his interruption. The man answers politely but firmly, seemingly asking for confirmation of Nayeon’s identity.

 Nayeon lets her confidence and body language speak for her, answering his questions with a haughty and arrogant tone to her voice, as though she couldn’t believe the man had the gall to bother her while she was waiting for her non-existent appointment with Irene.

 Nayeon lets out a scoff, as though she couldn’t believe what was happening. Finally she invites him into Irene’s office with a disgusted wave of her hand. When he steps inside, she slams the door behind him - but not before shooting the receptionist a sharp look.

 “Nayeon says the security guard can wait in the office with her if the receptionist is so worried,” Jihyo translates.

 The two converse in Korean. Nayeon slumps into Irene’s desk chair as if she owned it, crossing her legs and idly browsing through something on her phone. The man sits in one of the chairs opposite her, likely surprised by the sheer gall and arrogance on display by the stranger in front of him who was sitting in his boss’ chair.

 “She’s hitting on him,” Jihyo says with a smirk, “she says that the receptionist was annoying but at least he’s cute. She’s asking him if there are any good places nearby to get a drink.”

 The security guard seemed surprised at Nayeon’s sudden change in tone, but he seemed willing to indulge her at least. It sounded like he was suggesting a few places nearby. Whatever Nayeon was saying to him, it sounded like his tough exterior was beginning to crack.

 From her interrogation of Jay you knew Nayeon was not above using her body to get what she wanted - and while you knew it was for the good of the mission (not to mention her own safety), you still found yourself hesitant at what you were about to witness.

 Nayeon rises from her chair and walks around to the front of the desk, each step accompanied with an exaggerated swing of her hips. She leans against the front of the desk, crossing her legs in front of her. The guard seemed a little tense at her new proximity, shifting nervously in his seat as Nayeon continues to make small talk with him, her tone slowly becoming more and more flirtatious.

 He finds enough courage to say what appears to be a joke, if Nayeon’s reaction is anything to go by.

 She lets out a short giggle - the kind of giggle a girl gives when she is not truly amused but rather wants to appear as cute as possible. You don’t understand what she says next, but you imagine she is telling him how funny he is.

 “She says she’s bored of waiting,” Jihyo translates, “and that there must be something they could do to pass the time.”

 You fidget in your chair in the cramped van, uncomfortable at having to bear witness for the second time in a week as your ex-girlfriend seduces a man. At least this time there was more than just a pane of one-way glass separating you, not that it lessened the discomfort.

 Nayeon bends over until she is just inches away from the guard’s face - and you could tell he was trying awfully hard not to take a glimpse down the tantalizing cleavage of her low cut blouse.

 She taps his nose with a finger - which would have been cute, if she didn’t immediately follow it up by tracing her finger along his admittedly sharp jawline. Her finger falls slowly down to the red, perfectly knotted tie at his throat, and with her long, delicate fingers she undoes the knot and pulls on the red silk until it is completely off.

 She stands, playing seductively with the red silk, until she is standing behind him. You don’t understand the content of the lustful sounding words coming from her mouth, but you do understand her tone. She bends to whisper something in his ear as she wraps the tie around his mouth and knots it behind his head, the red silk filling his mouth and keeping him from speaking. She continues to speak seductively into his ear, and as her fingers fall down the front of his chest to slowly undo the buttons of his white shirt, you brace yourself for what was about to transpire-

 -until Nayeon abruptly whacks the guard over the head with what appeared to be a heavy steel stapler.

 You didn’t even know when she picked it up from Irene’s desk, nor where she hid it while she seduced the guard - all you knew was that said guard was now on the floor unconscious, and Nayeon was rushing back to the laptop to retrieve the USB and its now-completed download of Irene’s data. She snatches the YG folder from the desk and quickly makes towards the exit.

 “Command, Blue 1. Leaving.”

 “Acknowledged, Blue 1,” Jihyo answers, a small, impressed smile on her lips.

 Nayeon slips out of the office and finds the waiting room empty - dismissing the absence of the receptionist, she quickly heads towards the hallway door that will lead her to the outside of the building.

 In the hallway to greet her are half a dozen more guards.

 In that moment time freezes; there is a look of utter shock on the guards’ faces when Nayeon appears, and it seems to take forever for the foremost amongst them to acknowledge Nayeon’s presence by raising his hand and shouting something in Korean. It is just enough time for Nayeon to make a decision - the one to run.

 She dashes as quickly as she can down the hallway, the six guards in close pursuit. She reaches the door first and bursts into the alleyway.

 “Command, Blue 1! Request for hot extract!”

 “Blue 1, acknowledged!” Jihyo answers quickly, already scrambling towards the front of the van and the drivers’ seat. She starts the engine and before you can get a hold of anything the van is already moving, throwing you off your seat and to the floor of the vehicle. Jeongyeon is just as surprised as you, and the sudden jolt of movement causes her to lose her balance and fall quite literally into your arms. Your arms wrap themselves around her as Jihyo pushes the van out into the busy street.

 You barely have time to get upright before the van screeches to a halt a few seconds later, sending both Jeongyeon and yourself tumbling forward uncontrollably. You land roughly on top of her, and you immediately give her a look of concern, but she is a tough one, and a shake of her head dismisses your worry.

 “Fuck, we’re stuck!” Jihyo snaps. You raise your head enough to peer through the front window to find a large dump truck has begun to back up into an adjacent construction site, stopping traffic from both sides from progressing.

 “Can’t back up!” Jeongyeon shouts as she looks out the rear window. It was rush hour in Seoul and cars were already packed behind the van.

 “Shit,” you hiss. You look up at the monitor where Nayeon is still running away from the guards, the video feed bouncing and rattling with the pace of her run. From the way she was running she was still clearly being chased.

 “Blue 1, this is Command,” you say quickly into the microphone, “make for the shopping mall across the street. We can lose them in the crowd. I’ll meet you there!”

 “Okay!” Nayeon manages to answer.

 “I’m gonna go grab her. Jihyo, once this clears up pick us up from the mall!” You shout as you open up the rear doors of the van and scramble out, wanting to do something, anything, to save Nayeon from her pursuers.

 —-

 The mall is crowded, as you expected, but it at least gave you a chance to lose the SM guards in the rush of after-work shoppers - or so you hoped. It doesn’t take you long to find Nayeon - there is a loud commotion at one of the entrances, and before you know it Nayeon is there, running towards you, half a dozen suited men in close pursuit.

 “Run!” She shouts, and before you know it the two of you are running, ducking and weaving around the busy crowd of startled shoppers. The crowd shouts and yelps in alarm as you ran as fast as you could, unable to avoid the occasional unintentional bump of a started onlooker.

 The guards are close behind - you needed to do something to throw them off. Taking Nayeon by the wrist, you duck into a hallway apart from the main shopping area that contained the mall’s washrooms and admin areas - and it appears you’re successful, as you risk a glance behind you and deduct from the retreating source of the commotion that the guards are heading in the wrong direction.

 You and Nayeon breathe a sigh of relief, happy that you’d lost the guards for now. Satisfied that your pursuers have been sufficiently thrown off, you head back into the main shopping area-

 -only to quite literally run into a guard; the same one Nayeon had knocked out in Irene’s office.

 It takes the both of you a split second to recognize each other, but when the guard finally recovers enough from the shock to realize who you and the woman behind you were, a look of anger quickly appears on his face.

 He raises his hand to his mouth, presumably to report to the radio microphone in his jacket cuff. He begins to speak-

 -only to be punched in the mouth and knocked out cold for the second time in the last half hour.

 Yoo Jeongyeon is there, suddenly, shaking her fist as she stands over the guard’s fallen form, a grimace on her face.

 “Fuck, they never tell you how much it hurts to punch someone,” she hisses.

 Nayeon and you take a moment to register what just happened, until a loud shout from the other side of the mall snaps the three of you back into the moment. A split second later you watch as the six SM guards, realizing they’d been heading in the wrong direction, begin to head back towards you. Evidently the knocked out guard got enough across to tell them where you were before Jeongyeon laid him out.

 “Shit!” Jeongyeon snaps, before the three of you quickly dart back into the hallway. The sound of the heavy shoes stomping after you, and the shouts of alarm and anger from members of the crowd as they are pushed aside, tells you the guards are in close pursuit.

 Nayeon, leading the way, heads towards the end of the hallway, where a red emergency door seemingly leads to the outside of the mall. It might have been locked, it might have led to a dead end, but at the moment it was your only option.

 Nayeon barges into the door with her shoulder, which thankfully gives way and reveals an alleyway. You are only a few seconds ahead of your pursuers, but when you step across the door you immediately turn and brace yourself against it, holding it shut as best you could. Jeongyeon notices what you’re doing and she too braces herself against it.

 “Run, Nayeon!” You shout, and you watch as Nayeon stands momentarily frozen, debating whether or not she should do as you say. The second passes, and Nayeon quickly turns to begin to run away - but she only runs to a nearby pile of trash, where she retrieves a heavy looking bin. Jeongyeon scrambles to help her pick it up, and together the three of you push it up against the door.

 And you do so just in time, as the door bursts almost halfway open when the guards on the other side throw themselves against it. The bin is heavy and helps the three of you keep the door shut, but you knew it was only a matter of time before the men on the other side eventually overpowered you and forced their way out.

 “Fuck, Nayeon, just get out of here. Get the data to Jihyo,” you snap as you push as heavily as you could against the bin and the door. The guards on the other side are shouting as they try to pry the door open, all of them appearing to throw their weight behind it.

 You make eye contact with Nayeon, and in her eyes you see her inner conflict - she didn’t want to leave you there, didn’t want to leave you to be captured by SM, not when she knew what they were capable of and what had happened to others that had crossed Irene. But the information in the file and on her USB drive were vital, and someone had to get it out there…

 For a split second Nayeon’s eyes quiver, as though she were afraid of having to live with her decision - but then before you know it she is gone, dashing away, running as fast as her legs could carry her. You watch as she turns the corner and disappears out into the busy street.

 You know that she was just doing what you had ordered her to do - what made the most sense in that situation. The information in the folder, and the USB drive, might have been enough to finally bring Irene to justice. Someone had to get it out into the public. Nonetheless, it hurt you to see her run and leave you to deal with the SM guards, even when you knew it was the most logical course of action.

 Next to you, Jeongyeon is struggling to push back against the door, a look of hard effort on her face as she leans as hard as she could against the cold steel and the heavy bin. She could have run right along with Nayeon, but instead she decided to stay.

 “You didn’t have to come for us,” you manage to say.

 “I didn’t come for her,” she answers, “I came for you.”

 You reach over and clutch her hand, covering it with yours. You smile at her, a sad smile; you were both about to be captured by dangerous people with ill intentions, and while you would have been happier knowing she was far away and safe, a small part of you was still happy she was there, with you, when she could have easily stayed in the van with Jihyo.

 Jeongyeon smiles back at you. 

 The door bursts open and the guards spill out into the alleyway, the force of their exit knocking you and Jeongyeon to the ground. You quickly crawl over to Jeongyeon and help her to her feet, the six guards quickly rising themselves as they finally confront you. 

 You clench your fists and step between them and Jeongyeon, unwilling to go down without a fight and wanting to protect her for as long as you could. You are surprised to find that Jeongyeon has stepped out from behind you to stand side by side, a look of determination on her face as she glares angrily as the SM guards as though taunting them into attacking her. A small stream of blood is falling down her cheek from a gash she must have received as she fell. 

 In her hands is a length of scrap wood that she must have picked up off the ground, clutched in front of her like a sword.

 The SM guards tense, ready for the confrontation that was about to come. The first of them inches forward, and reaches into his suit to draw a collapsible steel baton. You breathe and ready yourself as best you could for what was to come.

 There is a loud screech that could only be that of burning rubber, and everyone in the alley freezes to watch as a van pulls up on the entrance of the alleyway, directly behind you and Jeongyeon. You immediately think it is Jihyo, but this van is white, not black. The side door flies open. Time freezes in that moment, and you manage to make out every single detail of what awaited you inside the van.

 In the van are three women. One was unfamiliar to you. The second you recognize as the fit stewardess on the flight to Seoul from Hawaii last week - the one that had taken a keen interest in you and Jeongyeon. 

 The third woman was one you knew well. She is beautiful, as she always was, even if this time her face is heavy with intensity. Her eyes, those large, expressive eyes of hers, are wide open with alarm and determination. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized how much you’d missed her, how much you’d longed to see her again. 

 But there is something about her that looks a little different, a little out of place. It takes you another split second to realize why she looked so different - her hair, usually in bangs, was now swept off to the side. And while the fact that she was now your rescuer added to the fact, you were convinced that she had never looked more beautiful.

 “Get in!” Hirai Momo shouts, her hand extended towards you.

 You immediately rush Jeongyeon into the van before taking Momo’s hand and letting her pull you into the vehicle. The stewardess shuts the sliding door behind you just as the guards reach the van and try in vain to open the locked door. 

 “Floor it, Chaeyoung!” Momo shouts. The driver, a young looking girl with a short haircut, shifts the van into gear.

 “Hold on!”

 With the sound of screeching tires, the van speeds away from the alleyway, whisking you to safety.

[whitleyschn33]

RWBY Volume 8 Episode One: Quick Thoughts

Or not so quick, seeing how long it took me to write this and how much I ended up having to say. Spoilers (duh) under the cut, as this thing got insanely long.

So we open with a maid scrubbing a floor, a shot that lasted long enough I was starting to wonder where it was going before we cut to Cinder. So, Cinder backstory - interesting way to open the volume, but I’m not sure if it’s a good way. At the very least, I would have cut it a couple seconds, or have it flash between Cinder’s face and the flashback. Same information, but given in a quicker manner that lets us know exactly what we’re seeing instead of wonder who this random maid is for 10 seconds.

Whale aircraft carrier. The design is interesting, if looking a bit too clean for my taste. I would’ve liked to see the bones and muscles of the Grimm incorporated into the design a bit more, the surfaces less smooth and more textured, but it looks good.

Facial acting on Neo is good - I appreciate being able to see what’s running through her head, even if it also makes me wonder why Salem isn’t picking up on the obvious tells.

Emerald and Mercury are back and with new outfits; I can hear the diehard EmMerc fans screaming from here. Would’ve liked a better look at the whole outfits (I don’t think there’s even one close up of their entire bodies), but I like Mercury’s! Emerald’s model feels off to me for some reason, like it’s wider or more padded (?) than before, but it’s not a big deal and is probably just a result of her wearing a jacket now.

Oh, yeah, Hazel got one too, don’t care.

Why does the whale have a screen? A connection to one of those seer orb Grimm?

Cinder is still not interesting to me, but I am curious - can one woman hold multiple maiden powers? What happens if one woman holds them all? If they can hold multiple powers, what happens when they die? Do they both/all go to the same person, or would they split?

I like the Faunus that gives Oscar the soup. His design is pretty cute to me (I think he’s a mole Faunus?), and I feel like he’s based on something, but I’m not sure what. Getting a Narnia vibe for some reason, which I’m always on board for.

How did Ruby know where Oscar ended up? Did he call? 

Weiss’s braid looks much better! I’m still not a huge fan of it, but this model is an enormous improvement - it actually looks like hair instead of rope, it’s slicker, and doesn’t look as heavy. Nice job, animators. Blake’s looks better, too, more fluffy, but it’s not as drastic a change to me.

Nice to see the Happy Huntresses actually doing something to help Mantle, and having Joanna(? that’s her name, right?) take charge and be helping Ruby get Oscar back in exchange for their aid is nice. It feels realistic for a situation like this.

And more secret keeping, but in this case, dropping the Oz bombshell would actually probably be a bad idea. There’s enough going on, bringing up Oz being back can wait until tensions aren’t as high.

Why would Ironwood stop evacuation? That makes no sense for his character, and there’s no reason to stop them. Until he gets Penny back, Atlas isn’t going anywhere. Might as well keep evacuating until you can find here, get as many people to safety as possible before getting away. I’d assume the Doylist answer for this is that Mantle still needs to be a factor in any decisions made after this and it can’t be that if we can get everyone evacuated, but that doesn’t make the Watsonian explanation make more sense.

Actually a good plan, getting everyone into the crater if it is in fact warm (why, I wonder? Thermal vents? Heat coming off of Atlas?) solves the cold problem (that people should’ve probably already died from) and having to defend one smaller location is strategically a good option. Corralling people would also make any eventual evac to Atlas easier. There is the small problem of, you know, Atlas literally crushing anyone in the crater if the staff is used on anything else, and Salem is known to be after that Staff, sooooooo -

Okay, maybe a nitpick, but I thought Pierto’s specialty was prosthetics and robotics. Doesn’t seem like something that necessarily overlaps with what’s needed to convert Amity into a satellite. I guess maybe the engine/whatever is going to propel it into the air could be similar to Penny’s boosters/whatever lets her fly, but it doesn’t seem like something that he would be involved in raising Amity. Whatever - I know we need a scientist person to tell these things to RWBY+Co and Pierto is the most likely candidate to be in a position to do that.

It seems like, from Ruby’s dialogue, she both wants to warn the other kingdoms and ask for their help. This has been trampled to death, so I won’t rant, but - there is no one that’s going to be able to help. Argus is hours away, will take time to assemble, and isn’t a very large force to begin with. Mistral is still weakened from V5 and has next to no huntsman, and is even farther than Argus. No idea what’s going on with Vale, but they’re probably still nursing their wounds from the Fall. Vacuo is the only kingdom likely to be able to muster up a force, but they’re on the other side of the map and will take hours, if not days, to get together an army - and that’s if they decide they want to help at all. The other objective was warning the Kingdoms about Salem. Ignoring that Salem is immortal and can just throw as many Grimm as she pleases until the defenses fall, ignoring that the other Kingdoms might not even believe Ruby, what’s to say they won’t go “F*ck Atlas, they’re on their own” and recall every available Huntsman and Huntress to shore up their own defenses? Or what if the other kingdoms just fall into anarchy? Learning an immortal witch with an endless supply of Grimm will come knocking on your doorstep soon tends to cause chaos. Or is Ruby going to leave the whole immortal part out again? I just can’t see what this will accomplish.

Holy shit, it’s actually happening. Dissent from WBY, and it’s coming from Yang of all people - I love it. I wish Yang had gotten to finish her sentence, say something along the lines of “Maybe if we’d told the truth immediately things wouldn’t have gone this way” since that would fit with her “hate secrets” thing she had going on in V5/6, but the fact that Yang is actually questioning Ruby’s leadership and choices - yes yes yes, more of that please, less of the hive mind. I wish it’d come a little earlier, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.

I’m slightly confused at the sides that Ren and Nora are taking here. I like that we’re splitting them up here (we never get to see them separated, and after last volume, I am more than on board with letting Ren get some breathing room), but Ren going with Yang, Jaune, and Oscar to help evacuate Mantle while Nora goes on the “bigger picture” team to get Amity up and running seems weird considering where they were last volume. Nora was always screaming about how the big picture stuff was hurting Mantle, while Ren was pushing to keep training, keep working, support Ironwood and try and work at the big picture problem, so it would seem like they should be on opposite sides. I’m not saying it makes no sense - I can absolutely see Ren feeling protective of towns under attack from Grimm with no Huntsmen in their corner - but it feels like a bit of a 180 from their last positions. 

Did Oscar just call Jaune “John”?

Yeah, if nothing else, don’t let Penny get anywhere near Salem or her cronies. Salem can absolutely not be allowed to get her hands on the Staff, especially with the whole “get everyone to the crater” plan. Squish.

Yang and Blake splitting up, maybe we can actually get some conversations on what the hell is up with them that we should have gotten in V6/V7 instead of petty showing off and Nora projecting.

“But what about Mantle?” “Oh, I’m helping Mantle.” with the same thing you spent all last volume complaining about. Uh-huh, that’s not annoying.

Weiss has an idea on how to get up to Atlas - Winter’s ship, maybe? That one she came in on in V3 was her personal ship, wasn’t it?

Ironwood calls Penny. From the music, it sounds like they were aiming for foreboding and manipulative, but Ironwood just sounds tired, the poor man. Love how Ruby doesn’t even try for a comeback for Ironwood’s argument, really convincing.

Dead Clover, and I hope that he stays that way, because if he’s brought back to life, so much of V6′s themes of life and death and the natural cycle is just going to be spit on (again). Clover is dead, and there should be no way around that save interference from a literal god. Any attempt at bringing him back needs some kind of drawback - some prevision of life, a body that moves but his soul isn’t there, something, please RT, don’t double back on your “Death is permanent” thing again.

And Ironwood did lose his arm completely. It’s an awesome looking prosthetic, but the fact that it’s black when the rest of his prosthetics are silver, combined with the comments made by the CRWBY about Ironwood’s humanity, make me very afraid they’re going to go for some sort of bullshit parallel to Cinder’s black Grimm arm. I do like the orchestral version of Hero playing here, though.

I like Winter’s new hair style - similar enough to her previous one, but looser. Not exactly happy about what that might symbolize, but it looks really good. It looks like she might have nerve damage, though, which would mean she might be off the battlefield until she can get her hands (hah) on some sort of brace to help her move her hands (which might be hinted at in the OP~)

I do really like Ironwood and Winter’s relationship, please don’t f*ck it up, CRWBY.

Is the only thing CRWBY knows how to do to make Ironwood seem like the bad guy shoot people for no goddamn reason? Ironwood was surrounded by loyal soldiers after declaring martial law, there was no reason for him to not just order Slate detained (that one was Slate, right? Not that it matters). The man’s annoying and probably in cahoots with Jacques, but shooting him is out of character, excessive, and makes no sense when he could just be arrested. “It shows he’s slipping -” No. It’s lazy writing meant for shock value and to give characters a reason to go “Oh, he’s going evil now, I better question my loyalty to him” (based on the look Winter and Harriet share) rather than any actual flaw in his plans maybe because CRBY realized that Ironwood’s plans are rational and the best one on the table right now, so they can’t use that to turn people against him. F*ck that.

Salem sends a bloodhound or whatever after Oscar, we already saw this bit in the trailers. No comment.

TLDR: Once again, RWBY sets up a lot of stuff that I find interesting and want to see more of. However, their treatment of Ironwood doesn’t make me optimistic for them to treat him right, and RWBY has a track record of setting up good concepts/plots/characters/arcs and then failing to execute them well or at all. We’ll have to see if V8 actually lives up to the promise or falls flat due to the issues that plagued V6 and V7 .

Going to make a whole new list for the OP because dear Lord, this thing is dense.

This song is definitely more in line with RWBY’s usual sound than Trust Love, and I’m all for that. The beat is a little hinky to me - it’s going to take a few re-listens to get used to it - and once again I wish the lyrics were clearer, but I know people that weren’t as happy with V7′s sound will be happy with this return to form.

Establishing shots of Mantle going to hell, nice use of red and contrast, but I wish there was a bit more use of shadow to really sell the red coming from fires and emergency lights.

Ruby standing alone, turning to find the others standing at the ready to fight, but away from her and with their backs turned. Any chance of more dissent? Will we actually get some growth from Ruby, in regards to her leadership in particular? We can only hope.

The four girls, on a blackish/blue background with floating warm lights, with images of their V1 selves in their clothes/hair/weapons. I really love the animation in the portion, the girls look so good. It also makes me wish we’d get some sort of flashback to V1-3, because I want more of their Beacon designs in the new animation style. The fact that this background/setting shows up again later in the trailer makes me wonder if it might be what the interior of the Atlas vault looks like. No basis for that, just a random thought. Couple minor nitpicks, focused on Yang. The fact that she’s the only one not in a more dynamic pose (and this is Yang of all people) seems odd, and the way her hair flows looks weird to me based on the angles and whatnot. Putting her in a different pose like a charge would fix this, letting her hair flow more naturally and giving them the space they need to to add in her past self. Otherwise, gorgeous. 

Ironwood with Atlas inside him, slowly being overtaken by the red as he looks up. No real comment other than beautiful.

Clover dropping his pin, with the AceOps and Qrow in the leaves, before transitioning to Qrow taking Robyn’s hand in prison. It looks like Harriet will be taking over as team leader. I don’t have a lot to say here - Marrow’s the only AceOp I’m interested in, and Qrow and Clover’s relationship has never been compelling for me. Robyn, similarly, is not a character I like, so a Qrow/Robyn team-up jailbreak isn’t something that I’m interested in unless Watts is involved. Already teamed up with one villain, Qrow, why stop there?

Oscar in pain holding his head, while Grimm eyes surround him and then Salem with wyvern wings comes out and looms over him preparing to grab him. I like the visual of Salem as the Wyvern at Beacon, but her face looks almost doofy in this shot. I think it’s the lack of expression mixed with the eyes. If she had a more menacing expression, I think this would work a lot better.

The falling weapons of the girls, Crescent Rose with Myrtenaster and Gambol Shroud with Ember Celica. Cue the shippers.

Jaune with his sword in front of his face, pulling it down to be at the ready, with Nora and Ren in the far background, their backs turned on each other but looking sad at their positions. I know Jaune’s thing is probably generic, but it gives me Mulan vibes, which is funny considering. Hey, hint that Martial Arcs will become canon now that Renora is on the rocks? fingers crossed More of Ren and Nora’s rough patch, and I really hope that that gets some focus. Their kiss last volume left a bad taste in my mouth with how it went down, and getting into these two as separate characters and their relationship. Ren not requiting Nora’s romantic feelings towards him would be a really interesting place to go with these characters that everyone’s pegged together since episode 4 (in no small part due to their lack of interaction with anyone else, but I’ll get to that). 

Winter and Weiss walking towards each other on the Schnee symbol, passing each other by with Winter getting her new hairstyle and a brace of some sort. She’s actually wearing this brace in the hospital, but on the other arm, while now it’s on the arm she couldn’t bend her fingers with. Interesting, and it looks all looks really good!

The Schnee snowflake falls between Whitley and Willow, before shattering onto a chessboard. YESSSS, Whitley’s in the intro again! That’s more than I could’ve hoped, and I really really hope that him looking contemplatively like that means something - that’s he’s figuring things out, coming up with a plan, something! Still no new design though T-T CRWBY, what do I have to do to get my boy some new clothes?

From the chessboard, Salem rises up, turning the other black pieces into Grimm to attack the white where Ironwood stands. His pieces turn to dust, the board blowing away entirely. Nice callback to V1. Ironwood stands alone - no allies, and no space to move forward. He’s a king with nowhere to move - check or checkmate. 

Smug Watts hacking while leaning against a mirror, rotates to show Pierto doing the same, his reflection looking over its shoulder at him, then a pan to Penny to show the same thing before the mirror breaks. I’m not sure what this might symbolize. Inability to trust yourself, maybe?

A snowflake flies through the air and lands in Ren’s palm. It turns into a flower petal, (or scraps his hand, I can’t quite tell) then Yang, Jaune, and Oscar join him, Ren smiling to Jaune. Another flower petal flies by to transition to Nora, who reaches out but can’t catch it, looking dismayed until RWBP comes in to join her. I assume the symbolism is straight-forward - the snowflake turns to a petal when caught by Ren (lotus guy), then flies to Nora who can’t catch it. Really living for the Ren focus in the op~

Pans to a shot of the whole group in the middle of everything - Atlas and Mantle overrun with Grimm on one side, Salem’s whale and Grimm army on the other, and Amity in the middle, which Penny flies up to hover below. Penny is going to be vital to launching Amity, and probably for reasons other than the terminal.

Then Ruby and Yang looking at each other with a smile and nod before the girls jump into fighting some Grimm. Interesting bit when the volume opens with the sisters starting to have disagreements.

The entire thing freezes, Cinder strolling cockily past the crew to walk in front of a bored/disgruntled Neo and Emerald who starts to wave but looks dejected when Cinder ignores her. Not much to say here - I don’t really like the freeze frame for some reason, no idea why. This also doesn’t give us any new info on the dynamics between these three characters.

Cinder grabs her Grimm arm in pain as fire flares up behind her, transitioning into Merc, Tyrian, Hazel, and Salem with the lamp in her eyes, transitioning to the lamp and staff twirling around each other, both emitting smoke like they’re being used as they come together. I wonder if this means that the last question and the Staff are going to be used, and maybe together? Once again, though - Atlas falling, people in the crater die.

Smoke clears up to reveal Ruby, looking up to Atlas first in invasion mode, then peaceful. Turn to a shot of the group standing looking to the left, Yang and Ruby looking like they’re posed but the others just kind of standing there. It’s a weird shot, and I’m not sure what to make of it, honestly.

The ice breaks beneath Ruby’s feet, sending RWBY falling into a void, their bodies trailing those lights that we saw before. Ruby opens her eyes to see the brightest light, the Staff. She reaches out to it, but Grimm paws and hands drag her down. V6 callback?

The word Happy? flashes only to be crossed out, a sketchy Grimm roaring, then the words Ever then Never as it’s crossed out, with a sketchy Penny lifting her head and her eyes then face going red, then the words After Again being crossed out. I’m not really of the words - I think it’s going for a Happily Ever After Happy? Never Again thing, but there’s no Happily that I can see, and it just kind of comes across as a bit emo to me. I like the sketches of the Grimm and Penny - I think it might be a Wyvern Grimm or something like that, and the red spreading from Penny’s eyes to her entire outline is interesting. I wonder if it’s connected to the Maiden powers and how she’ll use them.

Sketches of RWBY’s weapon fall into the snow, Crescent Rose falling with the tip stuck in the snow, then a flash and a pull out to Crescent Rose in the snow in full animation, framed by the broken moon as rose petals fly by with the “Created by Monty Oum” credit appears. I really like this as a reference to the Red trailer, and compared to the very cluttered ending shot of V7, this is a nice change of pace.

I like this OP. It’s definitely above V7′s for me, with a good song and some beautiful animation in it’s visuals. If I had to criticize it, I would say that it feels very long and cluttered. My breakdown of the opening feels as long as everything I mentioned in the actual episode. I realize one was going almost shot by shot, while the other summarized, but the point still stands that this things feels longer than it needs to be (I’d have to check time stamps to see if it is actually significantly longer).

A more promising start, all in all, than I’d hoped for. Things irritate me for sure, Ironwood’s treatment, Ruby’s plan, all that stuff, but I know I would have those bones to pick going in. The shake-up of the usual teams and the promise of inter-group conflict is enough to get me to want more, and I look forward to seeing how my favorite characters will be utilized. 

What are your thoughts on the episode? Reblog and comment down below, and we’ll start a convo.

Until next time~

[imyourbuddie]

Christmas Comes A Knockin'

January 5th, 2019 

Dear Eddie,

I know you’ve only just left, but I already miss you. And Christopher misses you. Tonight we made your favourite for dinner and Chris accidentally set out three plates. It was rough, but he felt better after Papa Buck’s special hot chocolate. 

You know, I never thought I’d have much use of this notebook you gave me last Christmas, yet here we are. 

Anyway, missing you. Stay safe. 

Buck

January 30th, 2019

Eddie you jackass, 

I don’t know how to send you letters. They told me you’re on some sort of highly classified mission and there’s no communication. Seriously? Some secret military black ops bullshit and you didn’t tell me? If you die on me, Edmundo Diaz, I will kill you. You hear me? I will fucking kill you.

Buck

March 23rd, 2019

Hey Eddie,

Chris got his first ribbon today at the science fair. He’s so proud and we have pictures that we’re saving for when you get back. I know he’s not supposed to get cookies and hot chocolate before bed, but I figure we make an exception for a special night. Hope all’s well. 

Missing you.

Buck

April 1st, 2019

Hen and Chim can walk off a cliff, together. They’re too damn old to be playing April Fools tricks on me! I’m going to be eating glitter for days. Days!

Anway, missing you. Loving you.

Buck

April, 16th, 2019

Feliz cumpleaños, mi amo! See, I’m learning! Chris helped me make you a cake. It’s chocolate and we ate a slice on your behalf. Wherever you are, I hope you’re celebrating.

Missing you. Always missing you.

Buck

May 1st, 2019

Chris was called into the principal’s office today. The other little fuck face claims Chris tripped him on purpose with his cane. His bitch of a mother wanted a written apology and one day suspension. I can’t even right now. Why are people such assholes? Chris says he didn’t do it and I believe him. God, I hate people sometimes.

I don’t know how much longer I can do this without you.

Buck

May 13th, 2019

Chris and I went to the pier for his birthday. It’s kinda special and it felt easier being there when it’s just us. We had churros, cake, lemonade, and maybe that was a bit too much sugar, but he’s passed out now. Yay sugar crash. 

He says you owe him a birthday present but I got your back. Now you owe me for being so brilliantly considerate. I’ll be collecting when you get home. 

Loving you,

Buck 

June 28th, 2019

I heard gunshots coming from the cemetery while we were answering a call. I don’t know if it was a military funeral, but...they’d call me if something happened, right? You’re not so off the grid that I’ll be left wondering for the rest of my life? I’m you husband. They can’t not tell me, right? 

Eddie, please, I miss you so much.

Buck

July 3rd, 2019

Chris gave me a miniature fire truck for my birthday. He’s the sweetest child a man can ask for. Really. The gang got me a cake and Chim shoved my face in it. That asshole. It’s a good thing I love him. 

It’s not the same without you here, though. I hope you’re thinking of me. 

Buck

July 16th, 2019

We went to the aquarium today. They played Baby Shark on repeat and now all I can think about is baby shark do do do do do do do and it’s driving me nuts. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. I may or may not have thrown an octopus plushie at him over it. 

Anyway, we saw all sorts of crazy stuff, and Chris loved the dolphin show. We’ll have to go again when you get back. The mango slushie at the cafeteria is magnificent. 

Missing you always.

Buck

September 15th, 2019

I miss summer vacation. I know, getting child care is always a pain in the ass, but I loved hanging out with Chris. When I’m with him, it’s like being with a small piece of you, and that made things a little easier. Now that he’s back in school, it feels like you leaving all over again. 

It gets pretty lonely at night sometimes. Stay safe and come back to me. To us. 

Loving you.

Buck

November 11th, 2019

We’re thinking of you. All of us. 

Love,

Buck

November 28th, 2019

I made us Thanksgiving dinner at the station. Chris had a blast and the guys loved having him there. We’re both so stuffed right now we��ve not left the couch even though bedtime was half an hour ago. Chris wanted to say hi, he says I can write for him while he talks, so here goes.

Hi Daddy, 

Papa gave me the biggest slice of pumpkin pie tonight, and it was so huge I almost didn’t finish it. But I did. Denny and I got to ride in the fire truck and it’s so cool you get to ride it every day at work. Papa says it’s time for bed now, I love you Daddy, and I miss you. 

Christopher and Buck

December 5th, 2019

Why are Hallmark’s movies out already? I’m not ready. We don’t have enough tissues at the house. I need to buy more tomorrow because I used up the last box watching The Knight Before Christmas. 

Wherever you are, have a pumpkin spice latte for me.

Buck

December 5th, 2019

Eddie I couldn’t sleep, so I stared at the ceiling talking to myself, pretending you’re here next to me. Remember when you first kissed me? I thought I was drowning and you kissed me. I know it wasn’t a real kiss, you were trying to keep me alive, but our lips touched, and it brought me back, you know? You brought me back when I thought I was dying. When I was ready to give up.

You’re not here to kiss me now, but I’m not giving up. I’m going to wait until you get home to me, to Chris, and I’m going to kiss the shit out of you. 

Always loving you. 

Buck

December 16th, 2019

Chris had his Christmas concert at school today. The whole unit came to watch. Mama Grant had a camera so we can record it for you. She’s really good with that thing too, even ran to the front of the stage so she could get some closeups. Chris was fantastic. Voice of an angel, I swear. We all went for ice cream after, and no, Edmundo, it’s never too cold for ice cream. 

We put up the tree last weekend, and Chris came home with these cookie ornaments they made at school. There’s one for you, too, with your name on it, so come get it, big boy. 

Cap says we’re going to have our Christmas party on the 23rd so people can go home and celebrate with their families for actual Christmas. Carla offered to watch Chris, but I’m considering taking him with me. It’s a family friendly party, so maybe Denny will be there too. 

Anyway, this is getting long. Loving you,

Buck

December 23th, 2019

Gonna take Chris to the party with me. He’s pumped. Who knew being a parent could feel like this? 

I’m always so grateful that you let me into your little family. You gave me Chris, and he’s the best present a guy could ask for. For every Christmas for the rest of my life. 

Loving you.

Buck

===

Buck closes his notebook and tucks the pen into the elastic loop attached to the cover. His finger twitches, and he wants to open the book and write our every little thing going through his head right now. Every emotion. But he can’t. It’s too damn painful. And Eddie’s not here. 

“Papa?” Chris calls from the bathroom. “Can you help me?” 

Buck scrubs a hand down his face and clears his throat, willing the prickle of tears to go away. “Yeah, bud, be right there.” 

When he pops his head into the bathroom, Chris is struggling with his bowtie. Buck wanted to get him a pre-tied one, but Chris insisted on the real deal. There’s a little card that came with the tie with diagrams on how to make the bow. Buck studies it, tries and fails a couple times, but eventually he gets a semi decent looking bow that sits snug under the collar of Chris’ shirt. 

“There you go,” he says, patting down the lapels of Chris’ suit jacket. 

“Thanks, Papa.” 

Buck’s chest swells, like it does every time Chris calls him Papa. It started as Papa Buck, but somewhere between Buck moving in and his and Eddie’s wedding, he became just Papa. It was a little strange at first, but it didn’t take long before Buck forgets that Chris isn’t his biological son. He loves Chris the same way he loves Maddie and his parents, but even more so because he never knew he could be so fiercely protective of a single human being. 

Some days, Buck muses he loves Chris more than he loves Eddie, and that’s saying something.

Buck stares into the mirror, his eyes meeting Chris’, and they both smile. “Ready?” Buck asks as he straightens his tie. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Chris leads the way, and Buck follows him out of the bathroom, through the living room, and out the front door. December in LA is mild at best, but Buck shivers as he helps Chris into the car. He looks behind him, then around, but there’s no one there. 

“Hm.” 

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks. 

Buck looks over his shoulder once more, then shakes his head. “Nothing, little man, let’s go.”

The drive to the station is uneventful, but Buck can’t shake that weird feeling swirling in the pit of his stomach. They pull into the parking lot just as Hen, Karen, and Denny pile out of their car, and Buck’s glad he decided to bring Chris afterall. 

Bobby’s whole family is here too, along with Michael, and as the spiked eggnog got passed around more than once, that uneasy feeling dissipates into something warm and fuzzy. Buck’s a little buzzed, but only enough to take the edge off. 

Chris, Denny, and Harry are off playing somewhere. Buck finds a spot with line of sight to the children and takes a seat, cradling his overstuffed stomach. He doesn’t know why he does this, but he just can’t stop himself from overeating when it’s a holiday. It’s a good thing he’s surrounded by LA’s finest paramedics incase he keels over from too much turkey. 

The upstairs lounge is buzzing with people. Firefighters and their families, and Buck tries not to let Eddie’s absence dampen his Christmas spirit. The rest of his family is right here, and he loves and cherishes them, and having Chris here makes up for the fact that Eddie isn’t. 

And that’s enough. It has to be. 

Buck contemplates a third eggnog, but decides against it. They still need to get home after, and Buck will be damned if he puts Chris’ life in danger just because he’s feeling a little maudlin and a lot lonely. He heaves out of the chair and heads for the trays of cookies and pastries laid out on a long table. If he can’t drink his sorrows away, he’ll just eat his feelings tonight instead. 

Somewhere behind him, Chris gasps. Buck’s heart drops through the floor and he spins to find Chris making a mad dash for the stairs. He acts before he’s had time to process, and he’s running up behind Chris, who’s half way down the first flight of stairs, before he sees what Chris is running towards. 

Or who. 

Down in the engine bay is a lone figure dressed in army fatigues with the brightest hazel eyes Buck’s ever known. His heart jumps into his throat, and the hubbub of the party fades as his eyes meet Eddie’s for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. 

They stand there, frozen, staring at each other, and a million things pass in that wide chasm between them. A whole year’s worth of fear and sadness and loneliness. Of love and longing and hope. Buck gets a little lightheaded, and that’s when he realizes he’s been holding his breath. He huffs, and with that single breath, every doubt he’s had this year flows out of him.

Eddie’s lips twitch into a rueful smile, that smile splitting impossibly wide when he sees Chris coming around the corner and down the second flight of stairs. 

“Daddy!” Chris’ jubilant shout breaks the freezing spell Eddie and Buck are under, and they move in sync. 

“Christopher, mijo. I’ve missed you so so much.” Eddie’s muffled voice drifts up as he clutches Chris to his chest. 

When Buck finally, finally makes his way down the steps, he stops just short. 

He’s dreamt of this moment, played it in his head over and over and over, imagined every possible way it could play out, but everything he imagined pales in comparison. Buck’s chest aches in that bittersweet, delicious way he never knew he could feel, and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. 

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t ruin the moment. Just don’t, Buck. 

Eddie looks up over Chris’ head, and his red-rimmed eyes glisten with unshed tears. And that fucking does it. Buck’s eyes burn, and his nose stuffs up even more as he heaves for breath. His vision blurs, and everything turns into a watery mosaic. Eddie reaches for him, Chris still tucked against his chest, and Buck steps into the embrace like his life depends on it. 

When Buck’s arms wrap around Eddie’s actual, solid form, every dam he put up breaks, and the first of many sobs heaves out of him. Chris turns around, wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck, and then Eddie’s lips are on his skin. Warm, dry, and a little chapped. 

They’re on the floor, and Chris is in Buck’s lap, and Eddie’s hands are cupping Buck’s cheeks and Buck can’t fucking breathe. Can’t fucking see because his eyes are leaking like broken faucets. But he doesn’t need to see to know Eddie’s here, in his arms, and his presence is answer enough to all of Buck’s unanswered letters.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie rasps, his lips hovering on the corner of Buck’s mouth. 

Buck wants to say something, anything, but all that comes out is another sob. Eddie chuckles, then his lips press against Buck’s in a soft, chaste kiss. “Evan, Ev, I’m here. It’s okay.”

“Papa missed you,” Chris pipes up between them. 

Eddie’s eyes mist, and his arms slip around Buck’s shoulders. “I missed Papa too. Missed you both so, so much.” 

“Are you coming home, Daddy?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and his bright eyes lock on Buck’s with a conviction. “I’m coming home. For good.”

[themockingcrows]

Doki Doki Grist Panic! Ch. 5

This chapter is SFW!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/79743136

“Bullshit,” Dirk said, leg crossing over the other pointedly, arms over his chest. “There is no way in Hell you got a freebie that nice. There’s gotta be a price.”

It’d been a long while since he’d been in their area, and even longer since he’d sat down with them civilly. Dave would’ve been happier if he hadn’t made his appearance in the middle of the night, let himself in from the rooftop, and immediately accosted him while he was taking a much needed nap for information. The message from Bro about his safe reappearance had been taken to heart, and he’d hurried there as fast as he was able to flash step and jump. Public transport was for chumps. Bro, needing to keep himself busy while Dirk was in range, was sat in the kitchen making midnight brownies from the box and nibbling a spoonful of batter while the oven preheated.

“So, what. Like. More time taken?” Dave asked, taking his new sword back. “I’ve tried calling the old one out, it won’t come.”

“What about the timetables. Did they get an upgrade too? Or your uniform?”

Dave frowned and kicked back onto the open half of the sofa after dispersing the sword. He was still tired, his head ached, and he was feeling emotionally wrung out by his recent betrayal revelation. Dirk’s pestering questions, some that he’d already answered once, was rubbing wrong on his few nerves.

“He said it was the same far as he could tell, remember,” Bro piped up, finally able to put the batter into the pan before popping the spoon back into his mouth to hold it instead of dropping it in the sink.

“What he said.”

Dirk furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I still call bullshit. When I got my weapon upgrade it had a price. A pretty noticeable one.”

“What was so bad about your price, didn’t it just fuck with your powers?”

“It fucked with my humanity, but go off I guess,” Dirk muttered, finally unfolding his arms to lean back into the sofa more comfortably. “The whole heart rending thing started seeping out even when I didn’t want it to. It took a while for me to feel safe around people. I. ...I felt things too strongly,” he explained. “All my emotions were off kilter, and behind it all this intense blankness.”

“Sounds normal,” Dave snorted. “You’re the king of the poker face.”

“Excuse the fuck outta me, he’s just the prince,” Bro said, popping the spoon out of his mouth. “MY ass is the king, kid’s got room to grow before he hits that rank.”

“Before my heart starts giving out like yours did, you mean,” Dirk said flatly, eyeing Bro as he closed the oven with a bit more force than needed. It was still a sore spot, after all. Spoon in the sink, he came around to the futon with the bowl on offer. Dave took it up and ran his finger around the traces of fudgy lines within before popping a glob worth into his mouth with a hum.

“It didn’t start weakenin’ this bad till after I gave everything up. More fees.”

“This bad. Which means it started when you were still working,” Dirk said. “Believe me when I say I’ve been on top of this shit ever since taking up the mantle after you. I might not be as OP as you were just yet, but I’m already pretty fuckin’ close, which means I’m keeping an eye out for all the little sneaky ways I’m gettin’ fucked over by Yaldabaoth.”

An agent of heart in the literal and metaphorical sense, it made sense that was what his prices would be linked to. Dave glanced at his own hands for a moment, wondering if it was true of himself as well, if his most recent upgrade had taken more time from him without his knowing. If so, how much was gone now? He used to have at least a basic sense, could keep track, but now what? What if it had taken a few years from him without his knowing? What if more was coming in the form of an upgrade to some other aspect of his powers? Were they already upgraded like the sword without him noticing…? Why did the beings that ruled their lives and souls demand so much for them in exchange for these powers. Was it to keep them expendable? In a sense they were being built like glass cannons, cosmic powers crammed into fragile bodies. It made sense there’d be some breakages along the way, and it made even more sense that those beings wouldn’t give too much of a shit considering there would always be another to take the mantle afterwards.

Dirk was watching him from the corner of his eye behind his pointed shades, and eventually he spoke up. “You’ve got that look on your face again. You’re thinking too much.”

“I’m thinking just enough for a guy who might drop dead in battle if I time shit wrong  someday,” Dave said. “Just the right amount.”

“Morbid.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Dirk made a face of his own before sighing and looking up to the ceiling. “Fine, fine. ...Man it’s been a while since I saw you. You still growin’?”

“Hardly. Maybe a bit,” Dave admitted. “But I’m done by now, surely. What about you? I didn’t get that good a look at your uniform, but it’s changed hasn’t it?”

Dirk grimaced a bit, but nodded. “Yep. Could’ve done without the pumpkin pants, but what’re ya gonna do, you know?”

“Heels still, too?”

“Mhmm. I miss my flats,” Dirk sighed. He looked to Bro with a frown. “You could’ve warned me the shoes weren’t a personal choice.”

“Kid, you think I’d run around fightin’ in heels for fun? What am I, Sailor Mars? Besides, excuse me for bein’ a little bitter at tossin’ the torch over, but I figured you’d deal with it when it happened, and I was right.”

“Ninja in heels, nice,” Dave smirked. “Can I see the uniform? I haven’t gotten a decent look at it in a while, and definitely not since the upgrade.”

“Man, I already bounced my ass all the way over here in it, can you just see it next time?”

“Might not be a next time,” Dave pointed out. “I’ve still got a prick to take care of, I don’t know how big a cut that new sword did on my time, and new enemies can turn up at any time even on your turf. You know that.”

Bro looked amused instead of upset. “You heard him, let’s see how you’re fillin’ the uniform out and makin’ it your own,” he said, gesturing a turn around gesture with one hand as he leaned over the back of the futon to snag the bowl back from Dave once most of the chocolate seemed to be gone.

“Dicks, the both of you,” Dirk grumbled, but pushed up from his comfy spot on the futon with a sigh. Bidding farewell to his comfortable sneakers, he stepped back and set his hand over his chest, lowering his head down as he focused. The light started near his feet and above his head at the same time in a solid ring of fuschia, before quickly snapping down to meet each other in the center as if drawn by strong magnets. Wherever the rings passed changed into the uniform he bore, the white sheer stockings, the black and white ankle boots with the noticeable heel and strap. The fuschia pumpkin pants, the green ribbon hemming the bottom in a sturdy woven pattern, the princely tailcoat and ribbons, the fanned sleeves with the matching green ribbon hem woven in on the edges, the fingerless gloves. The fact that the uniform was finished with a small jeweled tiara added a bit of flash that hadn’t been quite the same before. Dave grinned, but Dirk immediately drew his katana from the air and pointed it towards him.

“What,” Dave said flatly, unimpressed.

“What do you think?” Dirk said. “Wanna head up to the roof, do a bit of practice?”

“...Man, I’m tired, it’s the middle of the night, I’ve got enough shit to worry about. What if there’s another attack?”

“I’m here to back you up if there is,” Dirk said, unmoving. “I wanna see your upgrade in action, measure how close we are now in power.” There was no playfulness in his voice now, flat as his expression, controlled. He stared while barely blinking, and the way he held his sword meant it’d be just as easy to swing it Bro’s direction as well. One step forward and he’d draw blood on Dave as it was.

Dave’s stomach settled uncomfortably. He didn’t want to do this. Sparring as practice was one thing, but sometimes Dirk could get a bit… odd when under Yaldabaoth’s influence. Seemingly even more so now compared to the last time they’d been in close contact. It’d been stupid to goad him into changing in hindsight, but what could he really do?

“Stop pointing that at me and I might.”

“Make me.”

“If you start shit inside this apartment I swear to Christ I’ll whoop both your asses, magic or none, don’t even test me,” Bro warned. “Rooftop’s your best bet, somewhere quiet outside off town’d be even better. Don’t need a light show attractin’ attention to where you live, y’know?”

Dirk glanced at him without moving before slowly lowering the sword and putting it away. “Fine then. You’re right enough, I’d hate to cause problems for you despite appearances. How about we make it interesting, then. Race to the outskirts of town, have our spar. Loser buys breakfast for everyone tomorrow and has to go pick it up.”

“You’re stayin’ the night?” Bro asked, confused.

“Of course I am, I’m not hauling my ass back home instantly after coming all this way,” he scoffed. “Might stay tomorrow too if you let me. Make a mini vacation out of it.”

Awkward, Dave got up from the futon once the sword was put away, sighed, and changed. His uniform felt the same as before, no changes, though after a bit of rest he did think he felt a bit lighter at least. Dirk cocked his head.

“Did you always have shoulder and forearm guards?”

“Wha- Fucking. God damn it,” he hissed. So there were changes after all. Subtle, but there. The shoulder guards were layered and matched the fabric below, while the forearm guards were black and white, disappearing beneath the edges of his gloves. His silhouette was becoming more knightly, he supposed. What was next, full body armor? How would he move in that?

“Interesting. ...Come on, then. There’s a race ahead of us,” Dirk said with a playful looking smirk finally. It made Dave relax somewhat, knowing there was still some lightheartedness to it, but it didn’t relieve him entirely. There was still a fight ahead, and without someone where to pull them apart meant he’d either need to yield and get Dirk to believe him, or manage to beat him to make it stop no doubt.

All three went to the rooftop, Bro standing with his hands in his pockets, feet bare on the rough surface, minding the spot Dave had been feeding birds before where they left scraps of seeds behind. Dirk and Dave approached the edge of the roof, while Dirk gestured further out towards the darkness beyond the city’s edge.

“First one there gets first strike.”

“I can’t guarantee that, what if I get there second and sneak attack you,” Dave complained.

“Well, now it’s not a sneak attack, is it. Guess you’ll just have to get there first and do whatever you want, then,” Dirk shrugged. “C’mon Dave, let’s get going,” he said, bending his knees and jumping off the edge of the building. He fell for a ways, Dave peering over the edge to watch him go, and angled towards another building as he went, beginning to run and bounce from roof to roof at speed.

“Better hurry up,” Bro said, coming closer to see how far ahead Dirk was getting. “You’ll be fine. I don’t think he’ll do anything too serious. There’ll be brownies here when ya’ll get back. Or at least there should be, no promises if you take forever.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’. God damn it,” Dave muttered, stepping back a few paces to get a running jump of things before bouncing off the roof into a freefall. His cape whipped back from his body in the wind, and he’s sure he gave someone a heart attack if they were looking at the right time, but he had somewhere to be and no time to walk down the flights of stairs and deal with the creaky ass elevator that rarely ever worked. He landed on the next roof solidly enough it rattled him for a moment, recovering enough to rise and begin to ping pong between buildings after Dirk’s distant form. Dare he slow time to catch up…? It’d make things more fair, right? They hadn’t started at the exact same time, and if Dirk had this ability surely he’d do it too.

The gears appeared in the air behind him, bright and steadily ticking as he jumped and bounced around from place to place, spinning faster for a moment as he summoned the timetables and gave them a spin. Time slowed, the streets below moving at a crawl, and Dirk in the distance slowing down. Making use of this limited burst of slowness, Dave put away the timetables and rushed forward with his head lowered, scaling a wall to gain some extra height before taking another long bouncing leap. Soon enough he was caught up with Dirk, and as he bounced past him, time sped back up.

“Son of a-” he heard Dirk hiss behind him.

He heard a crackle, and just managed to dodge what looked like a shot of pink lightning that had been aimed at his back.

“Dude, what the fuck!” he cried, not daring to stop running now, breathless. The buildings were shorter now, further apart, they’d have to start going down the streets soon, scaring people in their backyards with flashes of color.

“You used powers, I can use powers,” Dirk defended. “Or would you rather this?” he asked, shimmering the air as he pulled his sword out and rushed close enough to take a swing before Dave bounced off the building's edge to the next one once again.

“I’d rather none of it!” Dave shouted at him, pulling his broadsword out so he wouldn’t be bare handed as they rushed along. He wanted to spar on the way TO the sparring spot? Fine. He turned on his heel and took a swing, barely missing Dirk’s legs as he forced a jump sooner. Dirk landed a few feet away with a well timed click of his heels on the rooftop, eyes vivid in the darkness, accented from below by a streetlight. Instead of continuing to run though, he ran at him with his blade ready to strike, forcing Dave to go on the defense again and try to parry the strike.

A katana versus a broadsword would always have an advantage of speed, of being able to rush strikes in, to cut the air cleaner. A broadsword however had stopping power. If Dave could land hits, they’d matter much more. He managed to land one after deflecting several of Dirk’s flurry strikes, slashing down hard to make him back off long enough to start running again. They were NOT going to have this battle on a rooftop damn it, they were gonna have it on the solid ground an-

Dirk struck him out of midair with a bout of pink lightning that seared along Dave’s spine and rattled his soul. He felt his heart hammering as he tucked, ducked, and rolled onto the street below, a bit dazed as he stood up and raised his sword in preparation. There was next to no time till Dirk came after him again from above, having to block strongly enough that he skidded backwards a few paces under the force. Blades still locked, Dirk grinned and leaned forwards.

“Gets your blood flowing, doesn’t it.”

“God you’re creepy sometimes, y’know that?” Dave grunted, breaking the block and brute forcing Dirk back. Strong as Dirk could be, Dave was still physically stronger than him hand to hand even out of uniform, and he knew how to use it to his advantage. The fact he had to do it in the middle of the street was annoying, though.

“Car,” Dirk said, casually turning and crouching before leaping away like a magical rabbit, leaving Dave to stand there in the headlights staring down the confused driver and passengers. He grinned awkwardly, waved, then turning and jumped off into the night as well after Dirk, praying they could actually make it outside of town before getting tangled up again.

No such luck. The Walmart parking lot was their next battle site, Dirk striking Dave down out of the air with his knees and forcing him to avoid parked cars once again. They struggled in close proximity before separating far enough to exchange blows, till Dave finally grimaced and slowed time once more.

“Cheate-!” Dirk started as soon as he saw the timetables come out, voice distorted and pink energy crackling from his free hand, unmoving. Dave caught his breath. He adjusted his grip. When the timer counted down in his head, he sprung forward on the attack and forced Dirk to his back, dodging the lightning by planting a knee on the middle of his arm.

“Man can we stop already?” Dave asked, gritting his teeth right afterwards as Dirk struggled to push the sword back away from his neck. “I don’t wanna whip your ass up and down this parkin’ lot, but if you make me I will. I wanna eat brownies and take a fuckin’ nap.”

“You gonna eat brownies and take a nap when your wannabe boyfriend comes back? Gonna go easy on him again?” Dirk spat. Ouch. Sore spot. “At least my affairs are in order and my job is my top priority.”

“Bullshit, what about Jake.”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

Dave hissed when Dirk managed to force him off, tackling him down. The swords were abandoned as they wrestled back and forth, Dave’s cape tangling around them as he tried to keep Dirk’s hands from aiming a proper strike at him. He wound up flat on his back with Dirk over top of him, clung to his wrists to keep them down and not directly useful.

“The whole reason you switched locations was because of him! And you’re still not datin’ yet!” Dave said, grunting when Dirk suddenly got a surge of strength and damn well knew how to use it. He managed to get one hand loose, but instead of letting out his lightning, he balled his fist up and decked Dave across the face. Dave shoved his hand up into Dirk’s face, bashing his nose with the heel of his palm before scrabbling for his wrist again and dragging it down. Blood began to pour from Dirk’s nose, dripping down steadily off his lips and chin and onto Dave’s chest.

“He’s signed under Abraxas, it’d never work. Yaldabaoth’s a bastard when it comes to those who work under them as it is, add in that it’d be impossible,” Dirk grunted, straining, wishing he hadn’t dropped his sword.

“You don’t know that!”

“Shut up, you almost fucked an alien who wants to kill the Earth, you’re in no position to give me romantic advice while I’m trying to kick your ass!” Dirk cried, wrenching his hands free and raising both up towards the sky. Moments before he could slam them down on Dave’s chest, time slowed to a complete stop. Face sore and tasting blood, Dave scrambled out from beneath Dirk and crawled quickly for the swords. He kicked Dirk’s further away before grabbing his broadsword and standing, waiting till the timer ran out to swing a solid strike at his back. When Dirk went down, he stepped hard on the center of his upper back and set the blade against the side of his neck in warning.

“Yield, dude, I’m done,” Dave said simply. “I wanna go home, I wanna eat brownies, I want a nap. I’ll deal with the threat when it’s time. It’s stupid to bust each other’s asses when what I could really use is someone to talk strategy with,” he admitted. “...I think there’s somethin’ I could use your powers for, specifically, but I’d need to figure out what to do first. That is, if you’d even be willin’ to help me with it.”

“...God damn it I didn’t wanna buy breakfast for everyone,” Dirk muttered, breaths heaving, fists curled tight in their gloves.

“Yield,” Dave said more seriously, pushing the blade against Dirk’s neck enough to draw blood. He couldn’t trust him till he said it, not entirely.

With a sigh, Dirk relaxed his body. “Fine. I yield.”

Sending away his broadsword, Dave leaned down and offered Dirk a hand up to his feet. He waited a moment before taking it, hesitating just enough Dave worried, but the way he clasped his hand afterward was warm as ever. Comforting. “Y’know, we’re lucky if this doesn’t wind up online somewhere as two freaks in cosplay brawlin’ at a Walmart.”

“Bet it’s already up there with the others,” Dirk smirked. “Maybe it’s on a fan page.”

“A fan page? You think people give a shit about us enough to make a fan page ?”

“Hey, they’re common in Japan as it is, they’re common in Europe. I’d be shocked if there’s not several already for us. Just under no names since we don’t give any when we do shit.”

“Maybe. ...God, what if they make a movie,” Dave said with a grimace, only now realizing how possible that actually was. Merchandising deals, even. All without him seeing a cent of it. Damn, what a thankless job.

“I’d say knock on wood, but honestly it’s pointless with how many of us there are workin’ at any given time. If it’s not us, it’ll be one of them,” Dirk shrugged, dusting himself down. He sighed, collected his sword, and sent it away. “C’mon, let’s get back so you can have your damn brownies you were bellyachin’ about. You can tell me about your plan while we eat.”

“Look, box mix brownies are god tier, and we’ve got ice cream somewhere in the freezer too unless Bro ate it without me knowin’, combine them and you’ve got a winnin’ combination. Who up at half past fuck off in the mornin’ wouldn’t want a piece of that?”

Dirk smirked a bit. Dave was still so young… They weren’t even that far apart in age, and he just seemed so young by comparison. Maybe it was just him. Maybe it was Yaldabaoth’s opinion at work. But that such a fresh face and wide eyes could save the world just as readily as himself was really something to take in.

“You’ve got a point.”

[noladyme]

The Crown Princess of Charming - part 11

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

Tags (let me know if you want on the list) @wonderlandfandomkingdom @edonaspanca​

11

We went back into the clubhouse shortly after – having spent a while holding each other; and calming ourselves down. Clay saw the scratch on Jax’s face; and looked at me, before turning to my old man. “We good here?”, he grumbled. Jax sneered at him. “What do you think?”, he said. “Let’s just finish this”.

They disappeared into the meeting room; joined by the rest of their brothers. The door was closed behind them; and the drapes blocked my view of the room. I let out a deep breath; and went to gather my thoughts in a corner. Guns. Heroin. Prison. Death… Gemma came over to hand me Abel. “Cat…”, she began. “Not now, Gem’”, I said quietly. She nodded, and walked away. The broken-nosed porn-star came over and handed me a mug of coffee. I drank it in silence.

Church was short. The door opened; and the guys came out of the room; somber expressions on their faces. Jax sent me a knowing look. The vote passed. I didn’t know how to react. I repeated be strong, in my mind – like a mantra – but I couldn’t help but feel like I would begin screaming at any point.

I handed Abel to Lyla; and walked outside. Sitting down by a picnic-table; I put my head between my knees; breathing deeply. My heart was pounding so hard; I didn’t notice Clay sitting down next to me. “Gemma said you did good in there”, he muttered. “You’ll be a great queen someday”. “Not for a while; I’m sure”, I said; trying to keep my voice calm. Clay sighed. “Jax fill you in?”. I nodded. “We need this”, he said. I scoffed. “You care what I think?”, I said. “You already took the vote”. He shrugged. “Jax does”, he said. “You are the tipping point of most of his decisions these days… I want to make sure we’re on the same page”.

His cold voice sent chills down my back; but I couldn’t bend over and take it from this man. “You don’t know me, Clay. Not really. And I don’t know you”. I clenched my jaw in suppressed anger. “But what I’ve seen so far… You – your decisions – they scare the shit out of me. I’m worried about Jax; and I’m worried about our boy”. “You have nothing to worry about”, he said; trying for earnest.

I turned and looked hard into his eyes. “You’re the president of this club… and I’m sure you could snap me like a twig if you wanted to”, I said. “But if you hurt Jackson – or Abel – in any way… I’ll kill you myself”. He nodded. “Fair enough”.

Jax and Tig joined us; and Jax frowned at Clay, before looking at me. “Everything all right here?”, he said. “Your old lady just threatened my life”, Clay smiled. “I’m liking her better and better every minute”. “Time to go”, Tig said. Clay nodded; and he and Tig went to their bikes.

Jax got up close to me; and lifted my chin with his index finger. “Together…”, he whispered. “Together”, I nodded. He kissed my lips softly; and went to join the others.

“Tig!”, I called after the black-haired biker. “When you come back… there’s a chick with a broken nose in there. I promised her your dick for the night”. Tig grinned. “My penis is at your disposal, my lady!”.

They drove out of the lot; and I closed my eyes – letting out a deep sigh.

---

The next few hours passed in a haze. I was constantly checking my phone for any word from Jax – fighting the urge to take Abel; and run away.

Gemma hovered over me; having crow-eaters and porn-stars – some of them one and the same – bringing me food and trying to cheer me up. I politely turned them away; not able to eat or drink before I saw Jax again.

Opie joined me at my table; lighting a cigarette for me. “I haven’t told Lyla”, he muttered. “Can I ask you to do the same?”. I chewed my lip. “Why?”, I asked. “She’s not as strong as you”, he said. “I have to… protect her. She has a past with coke”. I nodded. “It’s not my place, Opie. But you need to figure out, if you want to start a marriage on a lie”. Opie frowned. “Yeah… I know”.

We sat in silence for a bit. “You hear from the hospital? Phil?”, I asked. “He’s conscious. The fat took most of the blow”, Opie chuckled. “We owe him a patch…”. “You do”, I agreed. “Ope…?”. “Yeah?”. “Chibs talked about retaliation… What did you do, to get you into this?”.

Opie looked around for people listening. He swallowed. “We’ve been laying it pretty hard on The Nords”, he muttered. “Trying to keep drugs out of Charming… That body that was dumped at Cara Cara; it wasn’t our kill – but whoever left it; wanted to make it seem that way”. I frowned. “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”. Opie shook his head. “Let’s just say, there is more than one reason for Jax to dislike this deal with those alt-right guys”, he said. “And I agree”.

At nightfall, there was a rumbling of bikes outside; and soon after Tig, Clay and Jackson where walking through the doors. Jax came in last; and made a beeline for me – pulling me into his arms. “It’s over, Cat”, he whispered into my ear. “It’s done. We can go home”. I exhaled; not truly in relief – more like exhaustion. “Is it, though?”, I muttered. Jax shook his head slightly. “I hate this shit… hate what we’re doing”, he said. “But we’re safe. For now”. I kissed his lips. “Let’s try to stay that way”.

Clay stepped into the middle of the room. “Everybody! We’ve dealt with the situation. Lockdown is over. You’re all free to go home”. There was a mumble of relief among the people in the room. “If you feel unsafe at any point; if you hear word of something off – you let us know. For now… go home. Especially if you have kids. This place is going to be an adults only party in a few minutes”. He grinned; and croweaters and porn-stars alike, began throwing their arms around the necks of bikers everywhere. I noticed Tig dragging miss broken-nose into a corner; and attacking her with deep kisses and sweet words.

Mothers began gathering up their children; and I waved goodbye at Rina – who was still carrying the skateboard around. “Unicorns forever!”, she called out to me; and I grinned; pumping my fist into the air.

I began gathering up my belongings; and walked to the dorm to grab the diaper bag. Jax followed me. “Gemma says she can take the kid; if you want to stay”. I shook my head. “Don’t really feel like celebrating… I need to go home’”, I said quietly. “To clear my head… You can stay”. He took my hand; and pulled me against his chest. “I go where you go. I need to be with you right now”. He looked sad.

I stroked his cheek. “Talk to me”. He frowned. “I feel like shit, Cat”, he said quietly. “I hate what I just agreed to do”. His hands gathered around my back, as if praying. ”We’re not… this. Samcro does some bad shit; but drugs…”. He grimaced. “It makes me sick”. “You can’t end it?”, I asked. He shook his head. “We’re in too deep at this point”, he said. “I gotta pull us out smart”. “You will”, I said; and kissed the corner of his lips.

---

We got our stuff, and headed out to get Abel; and bring him home. The clubhouse had turned from kindergarten to strip club within seconds of the kids leaving. Opie and Lyla had slipped off as well; and Jax gave his mother a kiss goodbye. I smiled at Gemma; and she winked at me. Jax picked up Abel; and we headed outside; leaving behind the music and cheers from the partying crowd.

Outside; Chibs and Bobby were sharing a joint; and muttering silently amongst each other. “We’re going home”, Jax said. “You all right after that, Jackie?”, Chibs said. “It is what it is”, Jax muttered; and hugged his brother – letting the scot stroke Abels cheek. “We’ll talk later”. “This isn’t good, VP”, Bobby said. Jax sighed. “You know how I feel, Bobby”, he said. “Let’s just get through this”.

A dark escalade drove in to the lot – Stahl getting out of the passenger seat to greet us. “Mr. Teller!”, she smiled. “I came in to get my car checked out yesterday. Was told you were shut down”. “Come back tomorrow”, Jackson said tiredly. Stahl grinned. “Well, seeing as I’m already here; I might as well take care of some business”.

The bubble of rage and frustration in my chest burst; and I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Get your skinny ass back in that car; and drive away. Now!”, I demanded. Stahl looked at me with surprise. “Well, that was rude, Catherine!”, she said. “I’m just having a conversation with your old man”. “Bullshit. You’re trying to cause trouble; because you want to push him into doing something, you can bring him in on… What is your obsession with Jackson?”, I said. “Are you jealous? You want him?”. She scoffed; and looked towards Jax. “Please…”. I smirked. “Maybe it’s me you want. Is that it?”. I bit my lip. “Sweetheart, believe me; I swing every which way – but I do prefer my ladies with a little less Botox”. I heard Jax stifle a laugh behind me. “Let’s go, babe”, he said; and began moving towards my car.

Stahl’s smile disappeared. “No, kitty-girl is coming with us”, she said. “We’re bringing her in for questioning regarding the murder of Joshua Kohn”. Jax’s face dropped; and I froze in place. “You’re what?”, he croaked. “You’re arresting her?”. Stahl shook her head. “No, not yet… we’re still unclear on which one of you, to charge”.

I tried to collect myself. “I’m not talking to you without my lawyer”, I snarled. Chibs was on his phone behind me; trying to get a hold of Lowen. “Well, we’ll make sure you’re safe and sound until she arrives. Come along”. A suited agent stepped out of the car; and walked over to me; grabbing my arm. Jax tried to step between us – Abel beginning to whimper in his arms. “Don’t touch her. You can’t do this!”. “Oh, but I can”, Stahl smiled.

“Lowen is in San Fran’”, Chibs said. “Can’t be here until tomorrow afternoon”. Bobby took Jax’s place between me and the agent; letting Jax cuddle a crying Abel. “Step away from her; before someone gets hurt”, Chibs said. “Assaulting a federal agent is illegal as well; Scottie”, Stahl said. “I don’t think doctors give notes for that”.

I collected myself. “I’ll come down to the police station tomorrow. With my lawyer”. Stahl shook her head. “No can do, honey”, she said. “You might make a run for it”. I ripped my arm from the agents grasp; and stepped over to Jax – taking Abel from his arms. “I don’t think you understand the meaning of family, agent Stahl”, I said calmly.

I walked away from her; and went to my car; strapping in my stepson in his car seat. Jax sent me a knowing look; and walked to his bike. “I’ll have someone watching the house tonight”, Stahl called after me. “Make sure you’re safe until our meeting tomorrow… there are criminals around, you know”.

Jax turned to face her again. “I’d ask you to blow me; but I’m like my old lady”, he smiled sarcastically. “The Botox hasn’t done you any favors, sweetheart”. He got on his bike; and followed my car out of the lot.

---

“Are they still out there?”, I asked Jax – after having tucked Abel in, in his nursery about an hour later. Jackson was by the kitchen window; looking outside. “Two cars… down the road”. He gestured towards a pair of expensive looking suburbans parked a little way off. I sighed frustratedly. Jax stroked my cheek. “You’re ok, baby”, he said. “They can’t touch you without Lowen present. You’ll sleep in your own bed tonight”.

“My own bed”, I smiled. “Still sounds weird”. “Weird good, or bad?”, Jax asked. I bit my lip. “As long as I’m sharing it with you; it’s very good”.

Jax grinned; and leaned in to mold his lips to mine. His hand traveled down my side; and he tugged at the hem of my tank-top. I opened my lips; letting his tongue find mine for a second; before I pulled back. “They’re watching…”, I whispered; and looked out the corner of my eye towards the cars outside. Jax smirked. “Let’s give them a show”, he whispered; and grabbed my bottom; lifting me up to sit on the kitchen counter; with my back to the window.

Blood rushed to my core; and I gasped. Jax pressed his growing erection towards my warmth; and I realized it had been days since I’d had him inside me. “Jax…”, I rasped; and jumped a little; when his lips traveled to the secret spot on my neck. He ran his teeth over it gently; and I heard him chuckle at my responsiveness to his touch. “I’m here, darlin’”, he breathed. His lips moved down to my left breast; nibbling gently at the fabric of my top; tweaking my nipple through it and my bra. “And I’m here too…”. I gasped hard; when he unbuttoned my jeans; sliding two fingers down the waistline of my panties; tugging at my pubic hair. “And here”, he whispered; and pulled me of the counter. He pulled down my jeans and panties; leaving them hanging around my ankles, so I couldn’t walk.

He set me back up on the countertop; and slid his fingers between my warm, wet folds. I was shaking from excitement and lust; and I grabbed on to Jax’s neck – pulling him in for a heated kiss. My lower body was hidden from the agents outside, by the low hanging curtain in front of the window; exposing my nakedness only to Jax. All they could see, was my back; and how it arched against his touch. Even as I was sitting elevated on the counter; Jackson still managed to tower over me somehow. His stance was tall and proud; and he looked at me like I was a precious work of art. His index finger flicked my clit; sending a jolt through my body; from the delicious sensation. He bit his lip; and sent me a devilish grin. “Showtime”, he breathed; and dove two fingers into me; before sinking to his knees; and burying his face in my warmth.

I cried out. Jackson’s tongue slid all over my folds; lapping me up – before sucking hard at my clit; and crooking his fingers, rubbing my g-spot with just the perfect amount of pressure. I threw my head back; and moaned. Jax let go of my nub. “They still watching?”, he grinned up at me. “Why?”, I croaked. “Are you considering putting on the nipple tassels?”. He growled slightly; and attacked my clit again.

My legs began shaking, as Jackson pushed hard against my front wall; and before long, I saw the sun, moon, and the stars all at once. My walls clenched around Jax’s fingers; and I made a sound somewhere between a mewl and a scream. Jackson was relentless; insistent on drawing out my pleasure; and I pulled his hair hard to get him to let go of my nub.

Jax stood up, and wiped his face. “Living room. Christening. Now!”. He yanked my jeans and panties all the way off; and I got off the counter. Jax pulled me in for a deep kiss; and looked behind me; at the agents in the cars outside. He sent them the middle finger; and walked towards the living room – pulling me with him.

I pulled off my top and bra; and suddenly had a very insistent biker latched on to my nipple. Jax turned me around; and smacked my ass cheek. “Couch. All fours”, he snarled; and removed his t-shirt. His heaving chest let me know he was not messing about. “Yes, sir”, I smiled sweetly; and got into position.

I heard Jax’s belt unbuckle, and a silent thud; when his pants hit the floor. I looked back at him; and bit my lip; as he removed his boxers – exposing his throbbing erection. “Hard or soft?”, he asked. “Any way you want it”, I smiled. He smirked for a second; before hardening his expression. “Eyes front, baby”. I looked forwards; and waited.

It seemed like an eternity, before he made a move. It was so quiet; and for a second I was afraid he’d left the room – when suddenly his blunt tip probed my entrance; and he slammed into me with a groan. His hands grabbed my hips; and he began thrusting hard into me. “I think I got bigger”, he moaned. “No, I just got tighter”, I retorted. He laughed, and smacked my ass again.

“I’m gonna marry you some day”, he chuckled. I looked over my shoulder at him, and smiled. “I might let you”.

---

Just after noon the next day; Jax and I were seated at the kitchen table with Lowen. “Good news”, Lowen said. “They found Kohns bag in a motel room”. I frowned. “My motel?”. “He’d been staying two doors down from you”. I shuddered at the thought. “What was in the bag?”, Jax asked. Lowen opened a file-folder. “GPS-locators; addresses and files in relation to your old job, and your new one”. She handed me prints of pictures. “These are images of you from both Chicago and Charming. Apparently, he had a camera set up in the air conditioner”. I riffled through the photos, letting Jackson look at them with me. “Shit”, I muttered.

Lowen nodded. “I decided to forego looking at them. I’ve been told some of them shows you and Jackson… well, you can see for yourself”. Jax took one of the pictures from my hand. “At least he got my good angle”, he said. The picture he was holding, showed me straddling Jackson; head thrown back in the throes of passion; and Jax’s face grimacing in extasy, as he held on to my breasts. I took the piece of paper back from him, and put it down on the table – backside up.

“Everything points towards your story of him stalking him, being true”, Lowen said. “So, self-defense holds up?”, I muttered. Lowen let out a breath. “There was a witness that saw you and Opie outside the cabin; when the shot was fired”, she said. I scoffed. “Great… so what’s the good news?”. “The witness was drunk on moonshine. His testimony won’t hold up well in court”.

I grimaced. “Can’t we avoid a trial all together?”, I asked. “If it’s only hanging on one witness…”. Lowen looked at me earnestly. “I’m quite sure we can keep you out of jail. But Jackson…”, she sighed. “This ATF-business isn’t going to go away. They’re going to keep dragging Cat’s case, to push her to flip on you”. “Not happening”, I said; shaking my head. “They need Jax at the scene, because they don’t have anything else on him. They need Kohn’s death to take him down – and I killed Joshua”. “They don’t have enough on you, yet; Jackson”, Lowen said. “I heard about your lockdown at the club; and you were spotted meeting with members of the alt-right movement… Stahl is gunning for you”. Jax leant back in his chair; and squeezed my thigh. “I’ve always been popular”, he smirked.

Lowen suddenly looked uncomfortable. “There’s something else…”, she said. “Before Stahl springs it on you… It wasn’t just peanuts and shotguns in that escalade with you, Cat. There were also drugs – Rohypnols. And he’d brought some toys”. “Not the fun kind, I gather”, I muttered. “Let’s just say, he had a lot planned for you”, Lowen said.

Jax’s hand slammed into the table. “I should dig that asshole up; and kill him again”, he snarled. “I didn’t hear that”, Lowen said. “Look, I know this is hard to hear; but it all points to you being a victim of kidnapping and attempted rape. You reacted by defending yourself; and killing Kohn in self-defense”.

I chewed my lip. “The witness… is he the one who called it in?”. “No”, Lowen said. “Apparently they were already looking for you”. I furrowed my brow. “Why? No one knew I was gone, but the club”. “My guess; Stahl was in contact with Kohn. He let her know his plans for taking you back to Chicago”. “She knew?”, I croaked. “She knew what he was going to do to me…”. Lowen shook her head. “We can’t prove that”, she said. “For all she knew; Kohn would have simply brought you back east; and let you go”.

I closed my eyes, suddenly dizzy. “She set you up, Jax”, I said quietly. “What do you mean?”, Jackson asked. “She’s the only one, other than you, who knew I was gone”, I said. “She knew you’d kill him; and she needed that to take you in… end club business”.

Lowen began packing up her bag. “You’re going to have to take this sit-down with Stahl”, she said. “Anything else will seem like obstruction of justice”. I nodded solemnly. “Ok”, I whispered. “But I’m sticking to my story”. Lowen shrugged. “That’s up to you, Cat”, she said. “I’ll do what I can to keep you protected legally”. Jax sighed. “Just… keep her out of jail. Whatever it takes”.

“Do you think they’ll keep me? Lock me up?”, I asked. “They can’t”, my lawyer answered. “Not unless they arrest you; or claim it would be a danger to you, to let you go”. She sent Jax a look. “This isn’t going to be Donna all over again”, he snarled. “I’m not letting that happen”. I frowned. “What are you talking about?”, I said. Jax clenched his jaw; and looked at me hesitantly. “Lowen”, he said. “Could you give us a minute?”. “I have a few calls to make, anyway”, Lowen smiled. She got up; and left the kitchen.

I took a deep breath; and looked at Jax. “What happened?”. “This ain’t the first time Stahl has caused trouble for us”, he said. “She set up Opie – made it look like he snitched… that’s how he lost Donna”. I felt cold all over. Jax read my expression; and took my hand. “Cat… that’s not an issue here. After what you did for me – for us – with Kohn… no one doubts your loyalty”. I was not soothed by his words. “You’re telling me, the club had Donna killed?”. Jax looked pained. “It’s not… it’s over. We’ve moved beyond it”. I frowned. “You’ve moved beyond it?”, I sneered. “Opie? That was the mother of his children!”. “I know”, Jax said quietly. “And he’ll get his retaliation on Stahl. Somehow”. I scoffed. “She didn’t pull the trigger…”. “She might as well have”, Jax scowled. He stood up; and pulled me to my feet. “That woman… plunged a knife into the heart of my club. She had my best friends wife killed… and it looks like she’s doing an encore on you”. I shuddered. “Am I… will that happen to me?”. Jax shook his head; and pulled me into his arms; leaning his face into the crook of my neck. “I will never let that happen”, he whispered.

Lowen appeared in the doorway. “Cat? I’m sorry; but we need to go”. My hands were shaking; but I nodded. “Ok”, I whispered. “Let’s do this”.

---

An hour later I was seated in an interview-room; Lowen at my side – and Stahl seated in front of me; with a smug smile on her face. “Thank you for coming, Catherine”, the agent said. “I had hoped we could have this meeting sooner; but I had a Botox-appointment”.

“Can you get to the case?”, Lowen said. “Why are we here?”. Stahl shrugged. “Well, I don’t know why you are here”, she said. “Your client is not under arrest… yet. I just want to have a conversation with her”. Lowen smiled. “Then; we’ll just be on our way”, she said. “My client has already given her statement; and you can’t hold her”. “I can, and I will; if I deem it necessary for her safety”, Stahl sneered; before looking towards me. “And I think it might be… Cat; do you know what Jackson Teller does for a living?”. I shrugged. “Mechanic… small business owner”, I said.

Stahl opened a file. “That business you’re talking about… are you aware it involves gun- and drug-trafficking?”. I raised my brows in an exasperated expression. “I’m an old lady. I don’t know anything”. “Hmm…”, Stahl sighed. “That house he has you kept in… you think auto-parts payed for that?”. “I’m not kept”, I snarled. “No?... Who pays the bills right now? It’s not your teachers-salary”. I leant back in my chair. “No, Kohn saw to that”, I said. “Did you help him?”. Lowen put a hand on my shoulder. “Cat… not now”. Stahl grinned. “No; I want to hear this… Are you suggesting I somehow helped agent Kohn in his actions towards you?”.

Lowen smiled. “So you agree… Kohns actions towards my client were severe; and bad enough for her to have to act in self-defense, and kill him”. Stahl sighed. “It is beginning to seem like that”, she said. “But if you think for a second that you’re safer with Teller; you are mistaken”. I scoffed. “Stop beating around the bush”, I said. “Am I being charged with murder?”.

Stahl stuck out her chin. “I can’t prove that you killed him in cold blood… in fact, we can’t find evidence, that you killed him at all”. Her face darkened. “You weren’t even in the room when he died”. I clenched my jaw. Lowen cleared her throat. “Get to the point, Stahl”. The agent looked at me seriously. “You’re bedding a murderer, Catherine”, she said. “Jax came in to that cabin, and killed Kohn; for taking you away from him… you’re a popular girl, kitty”.

I swallowed bile at her use of the nickname. “Let’s say he was… how would he know where to find me?”, I said. “I didn’t leave any clue as to where I was going…”. Stahl narrowed her eyes. “Someone must have told him”, she answered coldly. “Huh…”, I said. “And how did you know where I was? How did you even know that I was gone?”.

The agent didn’t answer – she hadn’t expected me to be able to put the dots together. “Agent?”, I said. “You say I’m in danger… help me understand how I ended up here”. “I can help you”, Stahl said. “Get you out of this clean… I just need your cooperation”. I leant in and looked at her menacingly. “Is that what you told Donna?”, I hissed. Stahl looked taken aback for a second. “Donna… was a good woman”, she said. “What happened to her… it shouldn’t have”. “No… that, we can agree on”, I responded. “Putting someone in a situation, that ends in a person’s death…”. Stahl pulled a face. “We talking about Donna, or Jax?”, she challenged. I tilted my head. “You tell me…”.

Stahl realized she’d over-spoke. “We’re done. This is your last chance. Tell me what really happened; Catherine – you can go home… re-start your life”. I smiled. “Oh, I’m going home. To my man and my step-son”. I stood up, and walked towards the door; Lowen at my heels. “This is our last meeting”, I said. “Anything else you have to say; can go through my lawyer”. “You’re playing with a dangerous man, Catherine!”, Stahl called after me.

I turned to look at her; smirking. “We play many games, agent”, I said. “The agents you had watching the house last night, can probably attest to that”.

We left the police station; and I took a deep breath. Bitch… you’re going down.

---

Lowen dropped me off at TM. I went straight into the clubhouse; and up to the bar. “Rat… drink”, I demanded. “What kind?”, the prospect asked. “Top shelf. Strong”.

Jax came out of the meeting room with Clay. He almost sprang over to me. “What happened?”, he asked. “She messed up… that’s what happened”, I growled. “What are you talking about, teach’?”, Clay asked. “She pretty much straight up admitted that she put Jax on the scene with me and Kohn”, I said. “You think she’s the one who contacted Darby? Told him?”, the president said. I shrugged. “I don’t know… but it’s pretty clear she’s used to setting people up”.

Jax ran a hand down his face. “That bitch…”, he snarled. I shook my head. “This is my fault”, I muttered. “I should have stayed. If I hadn’t left with Kohn… you’d have never had to come get me”. He took my hand. “No… Catching me at that meth-lab would have put me in almost as deep”, he grumbled. “It wasn’t exactly deserted when we got there… we left a few bodies in our wake… One of the reasons Happy had to burn it down”.

Clay let out a deep breath. “All right”, he proclaimed. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Give my best to Laroy”. Jax nodded; and Clay left the clubhouse.

I chewed my lip for a second; resolving to ask Jax something that had been on my mind, since he got back from his meeting the day before. “Baby, can I ask you something?”. He looked at me earnestly. “Anything…”, he said. “Rat, get lost”. The prospect ran off. “What’s up, darlin’?”. I took a deep breath. “Chibs mentioned the lockdown being due to retaliation…”, I began. “I asked Opie about it. He mentioned the dead body at Cara Cara”. Jax frowned. “Yeah… It was Darby’s cousin… our cousin-brother. I don’t know what that white trash group gets in to when they’re not dealing”. I smiled slightly at his joke. “You think that alt-right group did it?”, I said. “Pushing you to work with them; by creating a reason to attack you?”. He clenched his jaw. “I can’t prove it…”.

“Shit…”, I sighed. “It feels like my head is about to explode”. He pulled me into his arms. “Let me take you home”, he breathed. “Neeta’s dropping off Abel in an hour”. I frowned. “You have to come back here?”. He stroked my cheek. “Yeah… we have a drop in Oaktown tonight. It’ll be a late one”. I couldn’t help but pout. “Ok…”, I muttered. “I can have Rat with you; if you’re uncomfortable alone…”, he said. I shook my head. “Not the company I’d hoped for tonight”, I said – looking at him through my lashes. Jax grinned in surprise. “I thought you’d be tuckered out from your meeting”, he said. I slid a hand under the hem of his shirt; slightly touching the skin of his lower back. He let out a soft breath from my touch. “Just a little… I have a few rounds left in me”, I smiled.

Jax put his lips to mine; sliding his tongue between my lips to meet mine – and pushing his groin towards me. “I’ll be home to take care of you as soon as I can”, he whispered. “I’ll make it a soft one this time…”. “Not too soft”, I smirked. He pushed against me harder, sending a jolt through my loins. “That’s impossible, babe”, he grinned.

---

I spent the rest of the day caring for Abel. He was teething; and being especially fussy. I calmed him down with a teething ring I’d been keeping in the freezer; and the baby was finally fell asleep around midnight.

I was exhausted; but at the same time giddy to spend some quality-time with my man. The house was hot as hell; and I reminded myself to talk to Jax about getting an air-conditioner. I took a shower, and put on some perfume and a robe. I tried putting on some makeup; but almost stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara; giving up. A bit of lipstick would have to do.

At 1 am; my eyes were drooping. Jax hadn’t checked in; and I decided to just go to bed – a little disappointed, and very sexually frustrated. I fell asleep almost instantly, on top of the covers; only wearing my robe.

Something slid up my inner thigh; and I jolted. “Shh, baby. It’s me”, Jax whispered. “Just lay still…”. I blinked; and met his eyes in the darkness. “Jax…”, I breathed. He opened the belt of my robe; and ran his hand down my chest and belly. “You want to go back to sleep?”, he whispered; and kissed me just above my bellybutton. I bit my lips; and shook my head. Jax grinned.

“Just lay back and relax”, he breathed. He pulled of his shirt and t-shirt; before leaning down to gently blow at my left, then right nipple. They both responded by perking instantly; from the cold air hitting them. Jax’s warm mouth enveloped the left one; as his fingers worked the right one. I was already breathing shakily.

Jax removed his pants and boxers; and laid down next to me. I felt his hardness against my thigh; as he put his leg over my right one – pulling at it to spread me open for him. I turned my head to face him; sighing in contentment. “You’re tired… maybe we should wait until tomorrow”, he smirked. I pouted. “No… wake me up…”, I begged. Jax grinned; and ran his hand down my torso again; ending up running his fingertips through my pubes. I yawned. “Really?”, Jackson scoffed. He slid his index finger over my clit. I jolted. “That’s better…”.

His lips found the sweet spot on my neck; and I bit my lip. Without entering me with his fingers; he continued working on my nub; making my whole body tingle deliciously. Jax warm breath against my skin made me shiver. He put his arm behind my head; holding me to him. I began panting – letting out little squeaks from delight. “My favorite sound”, Jax snickered. Suddenly it felt like my vagina went poof; and I came from his touch. “There we go”, he grinned; and moved his finger from my clit to his mouth – tasting me. I put my hand behind his neck; and kissed him passionately.

Jackson; crawled over me; placing himself between my legs. He slid into me with a quiet moan. “Talk to me, baby”, he whispered. “This good?”. “Mmhmm”, I breathed. “It’s good…” Jax chuckled. “You’re half way asleep”, he smiled. “Don’t stop”, I said.

Jax thrusted in to me a bit harder. I gasped. I slid my arms around his; feeling the movements of his muscles under his skin. I panted softly; and let out small mewls into the crook of his neck. Jax kissed me again; before speeding up his movements. “Give me one… just one”, he panted. I smiled; and clenched my muscles around him; making him groan. He came inside me; his sounds of release pulling me with him; and I clenched again – involuntarily.

Rolling on to his back; Jax pulled me with him, so I was laying on top of him. “I love you, sleepyhead”, he whispered.

I fell asleep with him inside me.

---

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 70 Rundown

Code Geass: So Lelouch is gonna go join Nunally’s ‘let’s all hold hands and get along’ area but literally no one wants to go after Euphy murdered everyone last time. You’d think there’d be at least one dumbass like “Maybe it won’t be a massacre.” But yeah Zero’s like “Oh well I just happen to have a million people I can give to the zone if you exile me and let me go scott free” and everyone’s like “that’s a super shitty thing to do but okay” so then Zero tells Suzaku that culture is stored in the titty and all the one million people do their I am Spartacus thing and wear Zero’s costume which had to be a logistical nightmare, like Zero’s outfit already is pretty expensive with the fancy clothes and the helmet and shit and some of them are randomly customized even though that defeats the purpose like how do you do this on a terrorist budget in a few days without anyone in the government finding out. Like “we received an order for a million pounds of the thing used in Zero’s helmet on the black market” seems like it’d stand out. But yeah, the million Zeros get away, partially because of the “dogs playing basketball” rule that they’re all Zero because their culture of being Zero is stored in their titty which wouldn’t hold up in court but also because if they just kill a million people who’re just trying to leave that’d be bad for the government, not that they’re not used to genocide and being hated as Imperialists but Suzaku specifically doesn’t want that on his and Nunally’s hands while they’re trying to actually do shit for Japan for once. Feel like there’s probably a good cause for peaceful detainment and not letting them just walk out but it’s not like they’d find Lelouch or whoever the supposed second Zero was anyway even if they strip-searched everyone since he was never there and if it isn’t Lelouch the only thing that makes him Zero sight-wise is the mask.

Inuyasha: So yeah we get the conclusion of Shiori’s story for Inuyasha and I just can’t help thinking about how nice it is that she went on to help a lot of other half-demons in Yashahime because of an act of kindness that Inuyasha showed her right here, really good ripple effect shit. But yeah Shiori gets pissed that her grandpa killed her dad and Kekkaishi YEETs him and his followers out of the barrier so Inuyasha can backlash wave the lot of them. We still got fifteen minutes left though so even after Inuyasha says he’s not going to murder a little girl for a powerup that’ll get power crept in a few seasons, Shiori offers him the blood coral crystal to break to give him the powerup instead as thanks for not fucking murdering her. We can’t have the climax of the episode just be Inuyasha smacking a crystal ball though so Taigokumaru’s spirit yeets itself out of the crystal and fights with Inuyasha and attacks Shiori but her dad makes a barrier to bounce him off of so Inuyasha can kill him a second time and get the Red Tessaiga. There’s some navelgazing about how life as a half demon is rough but how Inuyasha thinks that hardship will be good for Shiori and he’s rooting for her in his own way and in Yashahime we see he’s right and all in all that’s pretty nice. Anyway next time we have the Panther Demon filler arc which is honestly probably one of my favorite filler arcs in Inuyasha so that’ll be fun.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke continues his fight with Suzaku and Suzaku splits himself into seven, which this doesn’t seem to be the Multi-Form or Shadow Clones deal where it divides his energy, each one seems as strong as the original so that’s just kind of broken. Keiko pulls a bait and switch on the zombies which neither Suzaku nor Yusuke see coming despite watching the whole thing on Spirit TV, guess Suzaku had the camera point at the door instead of on Keiko for some reason even though the point is to make Yusuke watch her die. Anyway Yusuke flashes back to Genkai telling him he’s a little bitch that always doubts himself and splits his energy across multiple plans instead of having the confidence to go for something with everything he has and make it work instead of holding back in case it doesn’t. This and remembering his mom crying over his death and all the relationships he’s formed makes him go Super Saiyan in what I can only describe as a Fully Body Shotgun which I don’t think ever comes up again. He knocks down all the Suzakus but it’s just time to start the real fight since Yusuke’s lifted his limiter again like he does in every fight.

Fate Zero: So the clusterfuck in the middle of Saber and Lancer’s battle continues to grow as Iskandar just fucking dares everyone to come at him and five of the seven servants actually do. Gilgamesh is all like “Ugh, why do I have to do this shit, breathing sucks, I’m a king, someone breathe for me.” And tries to murder everyone with spears and shit but turns out Berserker is Darth Vader this time around and uses the force to steal his stolen weapons until Rin’s dad is all like “Dude you’re showing the whole world our fucking moveset, get the fuck out of there. Which given that Gilgamesh is an archer which are supposed to be independent and he’s a fucking snobby asshole, even with a Command Seal I’m surprised that worked. Also Waver’s racist teacher is all “hah wow, I was supposed to have Rider and the token teenager character stole it from me” and Iskandar’s like “I like this kid that’s ride or die with me even though he cries all the time way more than someone who doesn’t even step onto the battlefield you stuck up prick” and then Lancer and Berserker double-team Saber (giggity) and Lancer’s not happy about it because he was fighting Saber first and doesn’t wanna just jump her with Darth Vader but more Command Seals are thrown around until Iskander runs over Darth Vader with his fucking Lightning Chariot and that’s kind of shitty because Racist Teacher man wasted a Command Seal to have Lancer attack Saber for like five seconds before making him retreat. Bug Dude is also kinda freaked out that Berserker just kinda went for Saber meaning she must be pretty pissed at Saber about something anyway so basically everyone runs away and nothing is really accomplished, we didn’t even really need Kiritsugu’s sniper shit or Assassins’s Ninja Bullshit for this everyone’s just had enough and goes home. Also Caster is a creepy yandere simp for Saber but really who isn’t in this series.

Konosuba: So Aqua’s ready to sit in a lake for a few hours to make some money but for the first time in her live her divine booty is not enough to solve this problem. She gets traumatized by getting attacked by demon alligators and Kazuma and co. are honestly uncharacteristically worried about her and ready to try and help her. Meanwhile generic isekai protagonist has a crush on Aqua despite already having his own harem of bland girls and wants to steal Aqua back but basically the whole group is so totally anti-White Knight they can see right through his shit and turn him down. Kazuma beats him up in the most Kazuma way possible and steals his magic sword, proving that not only is he not doing anything to defeat the devil king but he’s actively sabotaging those that are. Aqua fucking decks the guy and blackmails him so she’s rich now and Kazuma’s rich from selling his OP Isekai Cheat Sword. Also the Dullahan dude is back for revenge about bombing his castle and Kazuma’s like “Wait were we still doing that? Thought we stopped, oh well everyone in this world’s problems are our fault somehow so it sounds about right.”

Sailor Moon Crystal: So this time we get Makoto’s story who’s probably my favorite thus far because her job is punching shit and making sure Usagi doesn’t die from the hundreds of things ready to hit her on a daily basis. I have sort of found a redeeming trait for Usaig in that she’s willing to reach out to anyone and everyone, like she’s not what I would call traditionally ‘nice’ but she is friendly and that ability to pull disparate people together does kind of make more sense for why she’d be the leader rather than the other girls who have useful but more specific talents. But yeah continuing with the trend of things teen girls like trying to destroy the world, haunted bridal shop that also reveals Makoto’s tragic backstory of being a more believable version of Tall Girl. Makoto transforms and beats up the Bride lady with a combination of Zenbonzakura Kageyoshi and Azula’s lightning bending, no fair that she gets two powers but I guess she is the tough one so it make sense. Now we’ve basically got the whole crew except for the one that we already know is active but hasn’t joined the group yet so we’ll see how this goes.

Durarara!!: So Mikado’s in deep shit after stealing the girl away that half the town is looking for, all because he has it hammered into his head that whenever a girl asks for his help he has to give it. There’s a bit of discussion about the nature of the Dollars that I’m sure won’t be important later but both Izaya and Celty show up outside Mikado’s school and he’s kind of in an awkward position since there’s nowhere he can really go but home and lead them to the girl. So he decides to find out about them, or at least Celty, Izaya’s just kinda along for the ride. He gets Celty’s backstory and agrees to take her to the other girl only to get jumped by Yagiri thugs and pull out some Death Note animation internet shit that has even Izaya stunned, Mikado about to actually become the main character of this anime for a bit.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Summary: The reader unexpectedly falls in love with two best friends

Characters: Frank Castle x black!reader, Billy Russo x black!reader

Warnings: Violence, language, and smut

WC: 6.5k (yeah, its hella long)

A/N: This is my baby and its finally ready for release. There will be a pt. 2, which revolves around season 2. Be on the lookout for that!

A groan behind the dumpster alerted you. Instinctively, you drew your gun and rounded the corner. Your eyes had to be deceiving you, because right now you were standing in front of a supposed to be dead Punisher.

Tucking your gun back in, you bent down to check on him. “Hey, are you ok?”

“I’m bleeding out lady, do I look okay,” he grunted.

Instead of sassing him back like you usually would, you pulled him up and started walking him up to your condo.

“Hey, lady you don’t have to do this. I’m good.” He protested, trying to push off of you, but too weak to do so.

“Stop calling me lady. My name’s Y/N. And you can’t even walk on your own. Let me stitch you up and then you can leave and finish whatever crusade you’re fighting.”

Frank shut his mouth. He did an okay job at stitching himself up, but it was always better to let someone else do it. Especially, when it’s a beautiful woman such as yourself.

You finally got into your place without getting caught. After, you guided Frank to a seat, you grabbed the first aid kit out of your bathroom.

“What’s a fancy girl like you willing to bring a bleeding man in your place,” Frank questioned after taking in your condo. Women who lived in places like these typically stayed away from men who looked like him currently. They usually clutch their purse and have 911 on speed dial.

“You’re not the first bloody man I’ve brought up here and you certainly won’t be the last. And plus, I know who you are, Frank,” you took a break from cleaning his wound to look up at him to show him you had no ill-intentions. “Whatever you’re doing now has to still do with your family and I totally get it. I didn’t stop hunting down the men who killed my sister.” You explained before he could even ask you.

“So, you’re not just some trust fund baby?” Frank joked.

Tugging on the thread a little hard you smiled at his wince. “No, I’m definitely a trust fund baby. I’m just a trust fund baby that knows how to shoot.”

For the first time tonight, he smiled, and you almost poked yourself with the needle. Frank Castle was already a dangerous man, but Frank Castle smiling was a deadly man.

“You know you should smile more,” you said, finishing up the last stitch.

“I haven’t had a reason to in a long time until now.” Frank stared at you for a while, but then he remembered he had to leave, not wanting you to get caught for harboring him.

He grabbed his jacket and limped to the door. “Thanks, Y/N.” He started turning the knob but stopped and looked back at you. “Um, do you mind? Can I- um, shit why is this so hard?” He fumbled with his words and you had to stop laughing, because you could tell Frank wasn’t a man who got nervous easily. “Would it be okay, if I uh, if I come here next time I’m all busted up?”

Going up to him, you reached up to the doorframe and grabbed the spare key. “How about this? You take this key and use it whenever you’re hurt.” You forcefully placed the key in his hand and gently shoved him out the door, because you knew he would reject your offer. “See you later, Frank.”

--

Since, that first night with Frank you seen him numerous times thanks to his extracurricular activities. Quickly, you two became friends, which probably a hard thing for Frank to do. Conversation between you two were never boring.  In fact, most of the time you two spent it laughing. After all the tragedy in his life, you knew Frank needed a ray of light, some semblance of happiness and you were the one to offer it to him.

Sometimes during his visits, he would use you as a sounding board. Your dad ran a private security firm and you worked for him so, you would give him some insight on his missions. He trusted you so much, that he told you where his hideout was with David Liberman was so you could patch him up if he couldn’t make it to you.

During all your time with Frank, you found yourself falling for him. And who could blame you? He was the perfect mix between rough and gentle, serious and goofy, jackass and sweetheart. Your ex was the opposite. Sure, Billy was rough around the edges, but he had a smooth exterior. He could charm a homeless man into giving him his last dollar.  

That’s how Billy ended up in your home even though you had a bleeding Frank locked in your spare bedroom. He charmed himself in.

“So, what is it that you want Bill? I’m tired and I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”

He knelt in front of you and grabbed your hands. “I miss you. I want us to get back together, baby.”

Knocking his hands away, you stood up from the couch. “Bullshit, Billy! Didn’t I just see you with that curly-haired DHS agent a couple of months ago?”

Billy smirked at your jealously. He knew you would never admit it, but he still affected you. Hell, you still affected him. “She reminded me of you a bit and I thought I could stay with a poor reminder of you, but I can’t. You’ve been in my mind every fucking day and I can’t get you out no matter how many other women I fucked.” He lifted his hand to stop you from interrupting him. “I know I messed up, but baby I was in a dark place then and I’m better now. I need you Y/N. I wanna marry you, give you babies, and grow old together. Please, give me one more chance,” he pleaded with a kiss to your hand.

A war was raging inside of you. If Billy would’ve done this a couple of weeks earlier, you probably would’ve taken him back in heartbeat and given him a hard time about it, but now that you were developing feelings for Frank it wasn’t so easy.

“Who is he?” Billy’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Who’s the man you’re seeing” Billy annoyingly clarified for you.

You were confused. Why would he think you were seeing anyone? “Not that its any of your business Russo, but I’m not dating anyone. You kind of fucked up dating for me.”

Billy used his height to tower over you to intimidate you as he backed you into the wall. “Fuck that. Remember I can you read you so fucking well. What other man has you hesitating to take me back?”

When you didn’t answer, he kissed you roughly and what a wonderful feeling it was. Billy looked like he would be a gentle lover, but in reality, he was rough, and you loved it. Abruptly, he ended the kiss. “Does he kiss you like that? Does he know how you like to be man-handled? Does he know that you like it doggy-style with your hair pulled?” In between each question he would kiss you with his hands roaming your body.

Someway, somehow you ended up on your couch with Billy on top of you, pulling off each other’s clothes. Both of you were very close to getting naked when Billy’s phone went off. Angrily, he answered the phone and by the sound of it, you wouldn’t be continuing your little rendezvous.

“Work emergency,” he explained while putting his clothes back on. “But this is far from over. I’m picking you up at 9 tomorrow morning for breakfast. No arguments. I love you.”

“Love you too,” you replied back, before he kissed your forehead and rushed out the door.

With one door closing another one opened and you finally remembered about Frank. When he came out, he had a look of despair on his face and you felt so fucking bad. How could you be so inconsiderate of him while he was in pain?

Pushing him to the chair you apologized. “I’m so sorry, Frank. I just get so caught up in Billy that I forget about everything. I should’ve never let him in. I’m sorry.”

Frank grabbed your hands just like Billy did earlier. “No, I’m sorry.”

Now you were definitely confused. Why in the hell is Frank apologizing to you? “Umm for what,” you dragged out.

“You know I used to nag Billy about finding a good woman and settling down, you know the whole quality over quantity thing, and now look at me. I’m falling in love with his girl. Some fucking friend I am.” Frank confessed, keeping his head down.

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. Frank knew Billy. It wasn’t far-fetched, both were in the marines and at the same time. Great, it was just your luck that you fell for two best friends.

“Did you guys meet in the service?” You whispered, not trusting your voice to crack.

Frank shook his head yes. “Yeah, saved my ass more times I can count. He was on that special ops team with me that Rawlins and Schoonover headed.”

Nudging his head, you got Frank to look at you. “Frank, I didn’t know,” remorse filling your voice.

Frank held your face in his hands. “No, no, no. Its not your fault, sweetheart. Just my luck to fall in love with my best friend’s girl, huh?”

“You love me,” you asked, tears pricking your eyes.

“Oh yeah, who wouldn’t? But I already had my chance at happiness, now its Billy’s turn. You won’t see me again. I’ll get Liberman to fix me up.” Frank claimed, walking towards your door.

You grabbed his hand to try to pull him back, but he snatched his hand away with ease despite being hurt. “Frank don’t do this,” you pleaded with him.

Nodding his head to himself, he looked down at the ground. “I got to. Billy needs you. He needs a strong woman in his life. If you can make an angry, bitter fuck like me happy, you definitely can do the same for Bill. I can’t be around you, because I’ll do my best to keep you for myself.”

The both of you let reality sink in. This would be the last time you’d see Frank Castle. Just before he crossed the doorway, he slammed the door shut, gripped your face and backed you against the door. “Shit, I’m gonna regret it if I don’t do this.” Suddenly, his lips were on yours and it was divine. His kiss was gentle, but no less dominant or passionate than Billy’s. He just expressed it in a different way.

Before you got to truly relish in the kiss, Frank released your lips and leaned his forehead against yours. “Take care of Bill for me, ok,” and with one last kiss to your forehead Frank was gone.

--

Billy stood by the gate staring daggers at a cuffed Frank. Only if Frank would’ve stayed in hiding, he wouldn’t have to deal with all this and could be spending time with you.

“Just ask it, Bill. I know you want to,” Frank told him.

He pushed off the gate and got right in front of Frank’s face. Both men staring each other down in hate. “You screw her, Frank?”

Frank leaned back to take a look at his former best friend, a man he once considered as his brother. He toyed with the idea to lie to him but disregarded it because, he didn’t want to disrespect you by lying on you.

Getting fed up with waiting, Billy asked again with more bass in his voice. “Did you sleep with Y/N, Frankie?”

“No, but I should’ve.”

Billy cocked back his hand and punched Frank.  No other man could have you, only him.

The punch didn’t affect Frank one bit. He just laughed it off and egged on Billy. “Man, you messed up, Bill. You lost her. Do you think she could ever forgive you after what you did? Was killing my wife and kids worth you losing the best damn thing in your miserable life!?” Frank ended up screaming in his face.

“My life wasn’t ruined until you decided to start your little revenge mission! I already had the ring picked out, the perfect wedding venue, and her father’s permission, but you ruined that Frank! You dragged the one pure thing in my life into your mess!”

Frank tried to jump up from his chair to get in Billy’s face. “No, you did that all on your own! After Madani found you out at the hotel, she brought Y/N in for questioning. Madani told me she railed into her. She thought Y/N had to know something, but she didn’t. Eventually, Madani believed Y/N and felt bad for her, so she told her the whole truth about you.”

“You’re lying and if you aren’t Y/N didn’t believe a word.” Billy sneered, pointing a gun at Frank.

“I’m not lying, Bill and you’re right…she didn’t believe Madani. Y/N/N didn’t believe it until she talked to me. I used to be able to find solace at Maria’s grave, but it wasn’t enough after I found out you betrayed me. So, I went to Y/N to talk and you wanna know what happened when she opened the door?”

Billy rolled his eyes at Frank’s dramatic storytelling. “What happened?”

“She broke down and cried.” Frank reminisced on your last encounter. The heartbreak on your face solidified his hatred for Billy. “All it took was one look at me and she knew everything Madani told her was true, and you wanna know what the kicker is? She apologized to me. To me! Like she was the one who pulled the trigger. She apologized for loving the man who destroyed my family. Hell, Billy she was so fucking disgusted with herself that she wouldn’t even let me touch her! Do you know what a fucking gift you had, Billy!? A woman like her only comes once in a lifetime.”

Billy had to hold himself together, no matter how much he wanted to break down. Whatever chance he thought he had with you was gone. There were a lot of things you could forgive, but his recent actions were unforgivable. “So, what now? You think you won now that you ruined my relationship with Y/N? What, are you two going to live happily ever after?”

“Hell no! Even though she hates what you did, she still loves you and that’s the beauty of Y/N. So, I can’t be with her when I kill the love of her life. I would be a constant reminder of that.”

Bending down, leaning on his knees Billy said to Frank, “That’s not gonna happen. You’ll be dead and then I’ll have time to fix things with Y/N.”

The former friends couldn’t resume their argument, because Rawlins finally showed up. This conversation would have to pick up at another time.

—

Miraculously, Lieberman was able to get in contact with you and informed you of Frank’s crazy plan. David only told you, so you can get to their safe house before Homeland Security and save Frank. He had a horrible feeling that Frank was being tortured or at the brink of death.

And he was absolutely right. When you got to the safe-house Frank was beaten at the worst you’ve ever seen him, and Rawlins had a knife to his eye.

Knowing Rawlins’ death belonged to Frank, you let off a warning shot by his ear. “Get away from him you cyclops looking ass bitch!”

All eyes turned on you. Both Frank and Billy were in shock that you were there, but Rawlins was happy.

“Forget the eye you owe me, Castle. I’ll just take one more thing you love.” Quickly, Rawlins grabbed you and put the knife to your neck.

“What the fuck are you doing, Rawlins!?” Billy yelled, drawing his gun.

“Let her go! You got me! Come kill me you son of a bitch!” Frank shouted, attempting to jump from his seat.

Both men kept yelling at him, but it didn’t deter Rawlins. Instead he added more pressure to your neck, drawing blood.

“Shut it, Russo! You don’t get to question me; you work for me.” Rawlins leaned into your ear. “I thought I would have to find you and make your death look like an accident. But look, the last loose end, struts right into the lion’s den.”

Desperately, you wanted to knock him out, but with how close he had the knife to your neck, there was a great possibility that Rawlins could get in a fatal blow.

“I’ll get her under control. She won’t say a word.” Billy tried to reason with him.

“No fucking way! I can’t wait to see Frank put a bullet in your fugly face!” You said to Rawlins, correcting Billy.

You could practically hear Billy roll his eyes at your outburst. One of things he loved and hated about you is, that you always spoke your mind, but it was one of the times that it was detrimental. “Y/N, shut the fuck up!” Frank and Billy reprimanded you.

Rawlins laughed at the interaction. “Sorry to end this little love triangle, but you can blame Castle for pulling her in Russo.”

What you and Rawlins didn’t know was that Frank and Billy were silently communicating on how to save you. Earlier, Billy loosened Frank’s restraints, because Rawlins was being a dick to him, so he deserved what was coming to him.

Finally, getting the hint Frank broke free. The shock caused Rawlins to loosen his hold on you, which allowed Billy to grab you.

“You good? Are you okay, baby?” Billy questioned while his hands roamed your body for injuries. When he was satisfied that you weren’t hurt, he kissed you deeply. For a moment, you forgot that he was backstabbing murderer, but the sound of Frank attacking Rawlins pulled you out of it.

Never had you seen Frank fight. You only saw the aftermath. So, you were intrigued when he fought Rawlins.

Billy tried to turn your head. “Don’t look. Y/N don’t need to see this.” You slapped his hands away and continued to watch anyway.

The way Frank fought was unbridled, ruthless, and brutal. Truthfully, if it was anyone else you would be concerned about their mental state, but you understood the depth of his anger and that was how he expressed.

You ran to Frank when he almost passed out after killing Rawlins. “Hey, baby wake up,” you lightly slapped his face.

“BABY!?” Billy roared from the other side of the room.

“I wish I could see your face right now, Bill. You just realized you’re done, and you lost everything you gave a shit about.” Frank struggled to speak.

“This isn’t my gun, Frank. I was never here. Y/N was never here.” Billy pulled you up from, Frank’s body and dragged you across the room.

You managed to pull yourself out of his hold and give Billy a right hook. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Do you think we still have a chance after everything you’ve done?”

Billy crowded your space and pointed the gun at Rawlins. “I offered Frankie a ticket out of the country before and just now I loosened the zip tie, so Frank had his chance. Ain’t that enough? What else do you want from me?”

“How about some remorse!? Can you even access that emotion or does that require too much selflessness from you?” You challenged Billy. You had to be hard on him or you would be too weak and take him back like nothing.

Taking a second, he looked up to the ceiling in deep thought. Billy leveled his eyes to yours and sighed, “What was happening when I broke up with you?”

“Huh? That’s irrelevant, Billy!”

“Its not! Now think what was in the news when I ended things?”

It took you awhile for you to remember, but when you did it hit you like a freight train. “Frank. His trial. Everything with Frank was front and center,” you mumbled.

“How does that matter, Billy?” Frank yelled off from the side. He didn’t need Billy charming his way back into your good graces.

“None of your business, Frankie. Why don’t you stick to dying over there?”

Punching Billy in the stomach, you scolded him. “Stop it!”

This time he let you go when you went to check on Frank. He was bleeding badly, so you took off your shirt to slow down some of the bleeding.

“Well, ain’t that a sight to go out to,” Billy commented on how Frank got an ample view of your breasts.

Billy’s smartass remarks were getting on your everlasting nerves and you were running out of patience. “William ‘Billy’ Russo quit your shit!”

“He ain’t lying sweetheart. That beautiful face being the last thing I’ve see is a blessing.” Frank took a bloody hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned down to his ear, playing it off as if you were leaning down to kiss him. “Stop talking. I need to stall him long enough until DHS gets here.”

Then you placed a kiss on his cheek, earning you a shot dangerously close to Frank from Billy. “None of that,” he warned.

“Okay, since I can’t do fucking anything but listen, please enlighten me what Frank’s trial had to do with us breaking up.”

Scratching the side of his head, Billy was trying to figure out where to start at. He had to make you see sense, to make you understand that he wasn’t as heartless as you believed him to be. “Y/N, you changed everything. Maria, the kids, I pushed all the guilt down and reasoned that their deaths were necessary, because I deserved better. And when all that shit went down with Frank and why he was killing everyone, all that guilt came back up.”

“Why then, Billy? Why did you feel guilty then!?”

“Because of you, damn it! Because I could finally relate. Because if someone as so much laid a fucking finger on you, they’d be dead. Shit, I already told Frankie over there, so I tell you, I was planning to propose to you. That pregnancy scare we had right before we broke up made me ready to have a family with you and I knew if someone took it away like Frank’s family, I would’ve ended up the same way.” Billy confessed.

Frank tried to stand up after he heard Billy’s confession, but he was too hurt, so you gently pushed him back down. “Having a family of your own made you regret your decision, even though we considered you family!?” The hurt was evident in Frank’s voice and you thought he may never recover.

“Frank, it’s done and over with. That chapter of your life is done. Matter of fact,” Billy gripped you by the back of the neck and pulled you against him. Then he cocked his gun and aimed at Frank despite your protests. “It’s the end of your story.”

Just before he was able to pull the trigger on Frank, a bullet from a Homeland Security hit his shoulder. He recovered quickly and dragged you with him, not caring that you left behind a bleeding Frank. The only solace you had in that moment was Madini would be able to get him the help that he needed.

--

“This is stupid, you know. You have DHS, NYPD, and my dad on your ass. Just turn yourself in and end the madness, Billy.”

Billy looked away from the window to look at you, “I’m not going prison. All I gotta do is get rid of Frank and then we’re off to a country with no extradition and starting a new chapter of our lives.”

Thankfully, Billy trusted you to a degree and didn’t tie you to the chair. So, you got up and wrap your arms round his waist and laid your head on his back. “If you go after Frank, do you really think you’ll survive that, Billy? He’s pissed and he’s not gonna stop til you’re dead. The only way to stop this is to convince you, because I know Frank can’t and more importantly, I won’t ask that from him either”

Insulted that you didn’t believe he could survive, Billy stepped out of your embrace. “You rather have me in prison?”

“I rather have you in prison than six feet under! God, Billy do you know how fucking conflicting this is for me!? I have to deal with two men I love trying to kill each other and one of em deserves it! Do you know how much it hurts my heart to say you deserve to die, Billy?” Sobs racked your body and eventually your body gave out and you fell to the floor. Never has Billy seen you cried like this. He got down to the floor and held you until the sobs subsided. “Please Billy, if you can’t go to prison just leave the country, but I can’t go with you.” You whispered against him.

It seemed like an eternity passed after you gave Billy that ultimatum. He truly considered it, but he couldn’t live without you, even if it would mean you would hate him forever. “You said it best, doll: Frankie ain’t stopping, so neither am I.” He admitted, right before he ripped your shirt in half.

“What the fuck, Billy?!” You slapped his hands away, but that didn’t deter him. His hands began to drift off to your pants and you were positive they were going to be his next victim.

Twisting your hip away from him, you were able to escape Billy’s embrace. “Bill, what the hell are you doing?”

Billy went down to push your pants down. “Just like I told you neither me or Frankie is stopping and if this is my last day on earth I wanna make love to my soulmate and possibly leave her with a little gift.”

“Uh huh. There’s absolutely no way I’m having sex with you.” Your voice quivered as you tried to reject Billy. Despite seeing him callously kill those DHS agents at his house, your body thrummed with excitement at the prospect of having sex with Billy.

Softly kissing the column of your neck with little nips in between, Billy cockily asked, “Is that so?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you shook your head yes, which was a big no no for Billy. He loved you being vocal. Even when you two would sneak around in public, he made no efforts to quiet your moans.

“Use your words, darling,” he warned with two quick slaps to each butt cheek.

You melted into him despite the stings on your ass. “We’re totally not having sex,” you stuttered while Billy was massaging your ass.

Billy said nothing as his hand slid up your neck and lightly squeezed your throat. “See, your mouth is saying one thing, but your body is saying the complete opposite. Are you sure that’s what you want, baby? You know how good I can make you feel. How full I make you feel with me between those luscious thighs. How blissful it feels when I get at just the right angle and hit that spot. How high you feel when I start rubbing that pretty clit of yours while I’m plowing into you. Or how about how good it feels when I finally let you cum and you gush all over me. Do you really want to miss out on that for possibly the last time?”

At this point, you were a puddle. Billy always had a way with words. You only had enough energy to turn to face Billy and rip off his clothes. “That’s my girl,” Billy chuckled as he helped you take off his clothes and the remaining of yours.

Billy lowered himself to his knees and threw one of your legs over his shoulders, but you stopped him before he could get started. “No, I need you inside of me,” you ordered him.

“Someone’s impatient,” Billy smirked, standing up to his full height.

“Stop playing around or I’ll go find someone else to finish the job.”

Billy’s whole face darkened, he lifted your leg around your waist and entered you roughly. Both of you moaned in ecstasy. Both enjoying the familiar feeling of each other.

“Feels like my words did the trick. I didn’t even get to taste my favorite meal, because you’re so fucking wet already.” Billy whispered, not moving one inch since he entered you.

To motivate him, you slapped Billy across the face. “I swear to God, Russo if you don’t start moving, I’m gonna—oh shit,” your eyes rolled to your back of your head as Billy pulled out and pushed back in.

Yours and his moans plus the sound of skin slapping together were basically pornographic. Billy was right, he knew exactly how to make you feel on top of the world.

“I’m close, baby. Are you?” Billy asked, moving all your hair to one side so he could kiss the side of your neck. Somehow you managed to tell him yes and he let out a growl of approval.

“I’m gonna bust all in you. You hear me?” Billy yanked back your hair. “I’m gonna fill you with my seed and hope to see you round with my baby. Whether I end up dead or alive, either way I’m getting you pregnant tonight.”

His words shouldn’t have turned you on, but they did. You shouldn’t even be having sex with him right now but fucking Billy Russo could have almost anything he wanted especially when he was deep in your guts.

Billy’s pace fastened, causing both of you to erupt against each other. Both of your bodies were covered in the light sheen of sweat, but neither of you made the effort to clean up. In fact, you snuggled into him, drifting off to sleep, not knowing the shit show you would awake to later.

 --

When you woke up, you were tied to a carousel, Dinah was lying on the ground with a gun shot wound to the head, and Billy and Frank were beating each other to death.

Neither man had the upper hand, they were too evenly matched for each other. “Guys, please stop!” Your throat was harsh, but you managed to scream at them.

It took a couple of more screams for them to finally pay attention to you.

“Sweetheart, you good? Did he hurt you?” Frank asked, oblivious to Billy planning to attack him. Billy managed his sneak attack on Frank and he finally got the upper hand. Your heart dropped. It looked like Frank was going to die, because you were a distraction.

You were in such a frenzy that you didn’t notice you broke the zip ties until you fell from the carousel.

In the nick of time, you were able to cover your body over Frank’s, halting Billy’s assault.

“Get out the way, Y/N!” Billy ordered you.

Shaking your head, no, you pleaded with him. “Please stop.”

Billy rolled his tongue around like he always does when he’s pissed. “Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you love him?” He hissed.

“Yes,” you uttered, knowing it would break Billy’s heart.

“Do you love him more than me?”

“I..I…I don’t know.”

Sheathing his knife, he bent down, gripped the sides of your face and gave you a bruising kiss. You couldn’t tell if the kiss was meant for pleasure or punishment, or maybe both.

“Well, we’re about to find out.” He pushed off of his heels and cocked his gun. “Choose.”

“What?” You questioned, obviously confused.

Frank finally spoke up from under you. “Bill, you piece of shit. Don’t you do this to her!”

Billy was unfazed and instead of pointing the gun at Frank, he pointed it to Dinah. “Choose or she won’t even get the chance to survive the first shot.”

Frantically, you looked between both Frank and Billy. Each man so different but so similar at the same time and both had a vise grip on your heart.

“Frank,” you whispered with your head hanging down. “I choose Frank.”

If he wasn’t bleeding, you would’ve been able to see the red flushing Billy’s face.

He nodded his head as if he understood. “You always make things difficult. That’s ok, it’ll be just like when we first started dating.”

Expert marksmanship was Billy’s thing, so he always had a shot at Frank despite you covering his body. When the shot went off, you got clipped in the shoulder.

That moment set something off in Frank and he had renewed energy. Just like when Rawlins cut you, he was an animal. He attacked Billy so ferociously, you thought Billy was dead. But Frank shocked you, he told Billy he’ll leave him alive. The only thing that worried you was would it have been better just to kill Billy after the state Frank left him in.

—

Things were as good as they were gonna get. David was back with his family, Billy was locked up and hospitalized, Dinah was alive, and the CIA and DHS decided to leave Frank alone, letting him live his life.

Currently, you were waiting on Frank to go to David’s house for dinner with his family.

“Hey, Frank you almost ready?” You asked, putting on your earrings.

Frank came out of your guest room with a big duffel bag and a face full of regret.

Nodding to yourself to stop from crying, you asked the question you already knew the answer to. “You’re not going, are you?”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Frank looked off to the side before returning his gaze to you. “Yeah.”

Walking over to him, you stuck your hands in his back pockets and gave him your irresistible puppy dog face. “There’s no way I can make you stay?”

Frank shook his head at you. He had to be strong or otherwise you would have him wrapped around your finger. Who’s he kidding? He’s probably already is. “You’re dangerous. You know that, sweetheart?”

Flipping your hair, you smiled up at him. “Duh. I kick ass on the daily.”

“That’s true, but you can really bring a man to his knees with just those beautiful eyes of yours. So, stop giving me those puppy dog eyes, or I’ll never leave you alone.”

Since, your innocent act wouldn’t work you decided to be a bit more devilish. This time you snaked your arms around Frank’s neck, brought your face closer to his and whispered into his ear. “You sure you can’t stay? At least for dinner?” You asked, licking the shell of his ear before tugging it in your mouth.

Grabbing handful of your ass, Frank pulled you closer to him and growled in your ear. “Don’t go poking the bear.”

“Or what,” you threw back, smirking up at him.

Frank shoved you against the nearest wall to kiss you and fondle your body. The way he was kissing you was almost like he was marking his territory, making it impossible for you to think about any other man.

His hands drifted to the inside of your jeans, where he pushed your panties to the side to insert two of his digits inside of you.

“Frankkkk,” you whimpered, digging your fingers in his shoulders. Those two fingers alone were stretching you out almost making you feel full. You couldn’t imagine how it would feel to get the real deal.

“Hey, open your eyes. I want to see them when I make you cum.” Frank rasped against your ear, making you even wetter than before.

Frank sped up his fingers and used his thumb to massage your clit. He loved how you quivered against him, knowing he was the cause of it. He loved your little moans that made him harder. He loved how hard you were digging into his shoulders that he knew would cause bruises. All of it he loved because he loved you.

He felt you contract around his fingers and he was in a dilemma. Desperately, he wanted to observe you fall apart against him, but he also wanted to draw it out, because this was the last time he planned on seeing you.

“Baby, please,” you begged Frank. Hearing you beg, undid Frank and at that moment he decided to finish you off.

Curling his thick fingers without changing his pace, Frank hit your g-spot, making you cum so hard you saw white spots.

Frank muffled your moans with his lips on yours. The way he was kissing you made you already wanting to start round two when you barely made it through the first round.

You whimpered when he slipped his fingers out of you and into his mouth. Unwrapping your arms from around his neck, you tried to stand on your own, but you stumbled a bit. “You okay, sweetheart?” Frank chuckled while checking on you.

When you shook your head yes, he reached down to pick up his duffel bag. “Still leaving huh?” You asked trying to keep the disappointment out.

“It’s better this way. Gives you a chance at a normal lifestyle.” Frank explained to you.

“What if I don’t want normal,” you countered.

Frank smirked at you before pulling you back into him. “You deserve it after all this bullshit, sweetheart. Go find an accountant or some stockbroker. Anyone who’s not like me or Billy.”

Pouting, you playfully hit his shoulder. “But I like my men a little murderous,” you whined.

Frank couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. He was gonna miss that humor of yours. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

“I’m serious too! What the hell am I gonna do with a stockbroker? I’m gonna be like: ‘Oh what did I do? I beat the shit out of my client’s abusive husband. So, how was your day?’”

“You can’t beat the shit out of those assholes if you’re on the run with me. You gotta stay here help people out. It’s your calling.” It hurt to admit it, but Frank was right. The way Frank loved being a marine was the same way you loved helping out people.

Accepting defeat, you hugged Frank tightly, taking in his scent, committing it to memory. “I love you, Frank Castle.”

Slightly, pulling away from you Frank cupped your face as if he was holding precious cargo and kiss the corner of your lips. “I love you too.”

Just for a couple of seconds both of you stood there silently, getting your fill of each other for the last time. Frank was the one that broke contact first when he reached for the door. “Take care of yourself Y/N.” He advised, right before walking out the door.

After Frank left, you locked the door and slid to the ground, allowing yourself to finally let the tears fall. In a span of a couple of months you were in love with two men, one who was responsible for the deaths of the other’s family, and in a matter of days both were out of your life.

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