#no idea if that will be permanent or not we'll see

[katiekatdragon27]

I'm so normal about the teensies.

I'm so normal about the teensies that I made a pre-Rayman origin story for the teensies. The teensies built the world lol, idc how inaccurate it is to the lore lol.

It's my interpretation, I get to decide the lore!

(THING TO NOTE: All of their designs are based on already existing teensies, whether it be canon or concept doesn't matter. If you can accurately figure out which teensies inspired who, I will give you a gold star🌟)

General plot synopsis: Polokus made the world. The fairies were also made; however, they were not "sentient" beings yet. All their births were from teeny terraforming of the land but that'll be explained in a later post. Anyways, the teensies were created not only to make sick beats with their noses, but to give the world guides and watchful keepers of order. Once every creature was created, Polokus took his leave, leaving all his "kids" to figure everything out. As one could imagine, that caused a lot of fighting over who's in charge. One teensy in particular knew in his heart he was built to lead. However, due to his short stature and insistence for violence, many did not even lend a passing glance.

When Polokus had a bad dream and a certain first nightmare invades the Glade, death in introduced into the world and no one knows how to deal with it. In a test of leadership and strength. This one teensy beat the odds, uniting every clan of teeny around, recruiting their most powerful fighters, and taking down the nightmare, restoring peace to the Glade.

Despite the win, there were still many rabid creatures running around, so in an attempt to establish order permanently, they "built" the Snoring Tree, the most middle part of the world where every teensy leader (and other creatures if needed) could come to discuss diplomacy and general plans of action (a knights of the round table kind of thing). It is where the Hall of Doors is located along with a direct link to the Livid Dead, which was established just a few years earlier. (After the Snoring Tree was made, that's when the fairies were "born" with Betilla being the first.)

However, his establishment of peace fell on it's face almost immediately due to teensy nature being lowkey selfish lol. The first "generation" of teensies was very good at this "guide and order keeper" job, but as each generation passed, more and more of the teensies' diplomatic mindset was pushed to the wayside in favor of a superiority complex. And when Betilla made Rayman as a protector of the Glade, many teensies lost interest in fighting themselves, leaving them very susceptible to attacks. That's why every creature ever is adamant in sticking these guys in cages. Cuz they're lowkey assholes who can't fight lol.

There are gonna be 10 important people to the plot, but I only got five finished right now. Their bios are below the cut:

_________

Aurthr the Grand Minimus (Fighter):

Aurthr is actually the First King in his prime. He was the first teensy made by Polokus, although he is not the "oldest" (like imagine a creator making ocs of different age ranges but they were all made at the same time). By default, he feels an entitlement to the first throne position in his kingdom, but before he is deemed "king", he has to go though a trial. That trial is ... defeating Jano! Yes, these are gonna be the group of teensies that defeat Jano and create the Livid Dead lol. But in order to do that, he needs to learn to be a leader. Along the way, he also learns that to be a grand leader, he needs to value solutions through diplomacy over violence (something that is lost in later generations *cough cough*).

Orion the Adventurous Ranger:

Orion is Aurthr's childhood best friend who comes from outside the castle walls. Being a Murkin (a clan of teensies that has since disappeared), he is very good at going undetected and just navigating the world outside of civilization in general. Despite his soft-spoken nature and cowardness, he really wants to make a difference for the better in teensy society, and it may just come around by teaching Aurthr to listen first before attacking (along with how to be an amazing Kungfoot player).

And yeah, he has ears. Ears are a recessive gene, but the Murkin were the clan that had that trait the most. (They usually get cropped if they're too big to hide in their hats.)

Sapphie the Beautiful Bard:

Sapphie is a teensy who's primary magic use is of the darker arts (hence her ability to go natural hair). Before being Aurthr's first recruit, she spent most of her days traveling about and doing small thieving jobs. She was a well-know musician, and she performed for money a lot. However, what she loves more than money is adventure. She immediately jumps onboard to Aurthr's crew, leading as healer until a different teensy joins the group later on and giving her the chance to fight. She teaches Aurthr about strength in presentation (and how to play his nose like a musical interment).

Umber the Undead Warlock:

Umber is one of the two mages that Aurthr sought out to help fight Jano. They are the Griskin Chief and trying their best to keep their people safe. This dedication to their people's safety led to a deal with a slumbering spirit, giving up their voice in exchange for power and sanctuary near his den. While constantly struggling to keep their clan quiet, they have been trying to manage the sudden influx in stressed out and scared ghosts showing up and causing a ruckus. Stressed and overwhelmed, it takes more than just some talking to convince them to go with Aurthr. But after helping with some big tasks and beating them in a game of Kungfoot, they decide to assist, and put a stop to whatever is killing everyone from above the bog.

Soria the Stunning Sorceress:

Soria is one of the two mages that Aurthr sought out to help fight Jano. Being part of the Sylkin sorcerers, she was the main protecter of Polokus's resting place high in the mountains. She is incredibly strong for a teensy in terms of magic, making her quite the formidable fighter. However, she would much rather sing and dance, and overall just have fun being alive than perform combat. She decides to help defeat Jano after being bested in music fight with Aurthr and having her eyes open to the destruction occurring down below.

She also has ears. They are long, but since her hat is also long there was no need to crop them.

__________

There are five more characters that will be posted later, but these are the important ones at the beginning of the story. I have a lot of this world thought out with a very solid plotline, so if y'all got any questions, I would be more than happy to answer them. Thank you for your reading all this and have a lovely day ^^

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Charles representation enjoyed here again! I’ve not read much of the comics bc I can’t afford them but I just rewatched FC and I was wondering if Charles being paralyzed is the same in the comics (Erik doing it)? Do they often include that part of his story?

hello my inquisitive friend :] !!!! im more than happy to give some more info bout the origins charles' disability in the comics- to the best of my abilities that is !

while they don't include an origin for his paralysis in EVERY story/run, as far as i know there are three major ways charles loses his mobility (though like yourself, i havent read many of the comics so far, so i could be missing a few. this is the part where i invite readers to submit additional info if im leaving any out)

the very first manner of charles losing his legs was relayed to us in the original X-Men run of the 60's in issue #20

(X-Men #20: "I, Lucifer!")

before magneto was regarded as charles' main adversary there was the extraterrestrial lucifer (who sported the same color scheme, ironically. it wasnt as though lucifer came before magneto so it was definitely A Choice..) who charles would have a semi-reoccurring feud with for a bit early on in the series. during their first encounter, charles would corner lucifer in his lair only to have a stone slab dropped on him, disabling his legs indefinitely

the second manner in which charles loses his mobility- and the time where erik is the most involved and is most deliberate- comes from. Our Favorite Universe in 2001: The Ultimate Universe

(Ultimate X-Men #1: "The Tomorrow People")

as is typically how charles x magneto team-up arcs go, while charles and erik worked together for some time it wasn't very long before erik wanted to pursue more Dramatic Measures for mutantkind. and As This Story Goes, amidst trying to escape the savage lands sanctuary he and erik built, erik drove a metal spike through charles' spine, leading to his disability in this verse

lastly, we have the House of M- or more specifically its prequel miniseries, Civil War: House of M- verse in 2008:

(Civil War: House of M #2: "Revolution")

(Civil War: House of M #3: "Reign")

similar to Ultimate and the movies, this is another timeline where charles and erik team up. this time however, charles is more willing to follow erik's ideas after seeing the horrors of genosha upon reading the mind of a mutant who escaped the island, and the two seek to liberate the other mutants left behind. unfortunately, during their mission, a sentinel collapses the building charles and co. are infiltrating, leading to the loss of his legs

hope you had fun reading- i had fun typing up everything and looking back at these issues :] !

[cicadagaze]

king of bringing home giant litters of kits. this is only two litters btw.

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[xgoldenlatiasx]

I decided on Dark-types for Blake mostly cause I just. have a lotta Dark-types particularly in game for some reason but also cause I think it's an interesting type for them. their team would be: Zoroark (shiny), Honchcrow (shiny, possibly ace?), Houndoom, Shiftry, Sharpedo, and Absol (this one could also potentially be their ace. esp if you gave it a mega. thematically I think that would go hard)

I could also see them being a Fighting-type specialist! dunno what their team would be but their ace would definitely be their blaziken

Edit: OH i also forgot to add; their field would be the short circuit field!

Hey y'all, just curious, but if you (or your OCs) were a member of the league in the rebornverse games, what type and field would you specialise in? Which pokemon would be on your team, and which one is your ace? Reblog and put down your answers (only if you want to lol)

Bonus: tell me more about your OCs

[shytastemakerthing]

Hey there! Maybe this is an odd request but I was wondering if you could do a list or maybe write a few characters of your choice on who would find piercings or body mods most attractive vs who wouldn't? For example I have my tongue and angel fangs done, dye my hair constantly, and I plan on getting a cherry blossom tattoo on my back. Would the Pomefiore house turn their nose at that?? Would it be against the rules at Heartslabyul? Or are there characters that you think would immediately crush on someone who looked like that? If not feel free to ignore, but I was just wondering if I could get your take on this!

A/N: The amount of ideas that I have for this should be criminal XD. But for the sake of not turning this into one massive essay, we'll just cover the basics for each boy. Enjoy!

TW: None

Note: Ortho is strictly PLATONIC

Riddle: He isn't completely against piercings or tattoos, but given how he was raised, his mother certainly beat it into his head that such things were not okay and destroyed one's body. He's been working on that a bit. Certainly would like the single lobe piercings the most, especially if they were rose or flower themed. Tattoos? Yeah, that will take much more getting used to.

Trey: Look at this man and tell me he isn't into that. All he asks is that you take proper care of them. Will absolutely go with you to choose out more. He isn't fully opposed to tattoos, he just doesn't like that caused you pain throughout. But seeing the after makes it worth it

Cater: More of a piercings guy. Absolutely gets you more, whether it be from deals he gets, from his sisters, or he was scrolling and saw an add. Wants all the pictures. Not a fan of tattoos surprisingly. Would be more into the temporary ones or even henna

Ace: Heavily into both. Man looks at you and is fighting the heart eyes. There's just something so attractive about them that tickles his brain just right. If you were to get some kind of a small heart tattoo somewhere, much like the drawing he has under his eye, the ego boost would be insane.

Deuce: Slightly more into tattoos than the piercings. It's a serious thing, permanent in many cases, and it's a long and sometimes painful process. He admires the dedication. Often traces any that you have and 100% goes with you if you want to get another one

Leona: The man has a tattoo. Certainly more of a tattoo guy. Not to say he doesn't like piercings, he just feels like they would easily get in the way or pulled that makes them a bother. Now, tattoos? You're speaking his language. The moment you mention you want a new one, he's taking you to where he has gotten his, only the best is what you get, willing to spend as much as needed. After all, if you want a good tattoo, you must be willing to pay. 1000% find tattoos attractive

Ruggie: Not the biggest on either tbh. Mostly because they cost so much money and as someone who grew up not having much of it, would rather keep what he has than spend it on these.

Jack: Not a tattoo guy. Piercings are hot or miss for him. Depends on what they are and where. He loves seeing little moon or wolf earrings on you, something simple

Azul: Honestly, more of a tattoo guy. The permanence of them is what gets him. Being 100% positive that you want thing on your body for the rest of your life. Absolute game over if you get anything octopus related, he's ascended then and there. Man is so red, stumbling over his words, his brain shuts down. Absolutely traces it whenever it's just the two of you... yes, it has sometimes led to more.. heated moments

Jade: Absolutely a piercings guy. Doesn't matter where, he loves them and if you happen to get a set of moray eel ones or mushrooms for the ears, no one knows where both of you vanished too. Finds them more attractive than he would like to admit. Also goes with you if you want more

Floyd: It's about 50/50 for him, he likes both, leans more towards tattoos, though. Another tracer. Kisses them all of the time, gives little nibbles..... you got one of a moray (where is up to you), he's never been more attracted to you than in this moment. Also, no one knows where you guys went after that... he just wants... further examination

Kalim: Honestly a tattoo guy. Another who will fund when you want more. What you want, you get, and can honestly go a bit overboard, but he just wants to make sure you are happy with what you have! Has more wholesome intentions than the rest when he traces them

Jamil: Not the biggest fan of either. More of a henna tattoo guy if you want them. Will absolutely do them himself, the man is a natural. Plus, it's an intimate moment for the both of you and he enjoys the atmosphere

Vil: Surprisingly a piercing guy. He finds them attractive on you, especially when you pair them well with whatever you are wearing for the day. He can't explain it, but there is just something about a lip piercing that draws him in. His eyes are often drawn to your lips as it is anyways, the piercing isn't helping. If you have a tattoo somewhere hidden, that only he gets to see (may not be the biggest fan of them but knowing he is the only one to ever see it sends this man on a trip), sends a shudder down his spine

Rook: VERY much into both. Both send his brain in a million different directions. Traces them, kisses them, helps you change the piercings. intentions are not always the most pure, but that's the fun of it. Takes you for more, even recommends more bold piercings and offers options for tattoos

Epel: Piercing guy. More so, he just likes them. Likes how they look or would shine. Just more of a pleasant thing he likes to see. Gets you little apple studs to put in your ears.

Idia: Honestly? He leans either way.But anything that relates to his interests or pomegranates (if you know, you know), and the man is a goner. Hair is entirely pink as he tries to avert his gaze. Funds more for you all of the time, he has the money for it and he loves to spoil you. Absolutely traces tattoos while you are asleep. If you're awake? Will absolutely lead to heated moments

Ortho: Helps you make sure that new tattoos and piercings are kept nice and clean! We can't have you getting any infections. He doesn't want anything happening to his best friend, after all! If you are looking for something new for your piercings, will have the best shops available with the best metals to use.

Malleus: Surprisingly, a tattoo guy. If you get a dragon, he is gone.... and so are you. Congrats, you're married now. Just the thought that you are willing to sit there for hours under a needle piercing your skin brings a new sort of admiration. Starts with pure intentions, but instincts get the best of him

Lilia: Piercing guy all the way, he loves them. Recommends all different types and styles. Bats are the most common that he finds for you. Intentions are nowhere near being pure most of the time, knowing him. Especially with a lip or tongue piercing, kisses you all of the time

Silver: Surprisingly big into both of them. Again, it's the permanence of them, something that he loves. Like Epel, just enjoys the meaning they may have and how they would look on you.

Sebek: HEAR ME OUT! Big on both of them all of the way, especially piercings. Again, some of it is a dedication thing for him, but there is just something about a tongue piercing that riles him up a bit, most because the way that it feels during more intimate moments that you would both have with one another. Tattoos are a dedication that he admires all the way. You have one croc related and he is a goner

Have a wonderful day/night!

[eggcats]

A really funny idea would be that practically all main Alastor ships are canon, but Alastor HIMSELF is the only one who doesn't know he's in a polycule. (RadioRose, RadioHusk, RadioDust, RadioApple)

(They don't tell him because he doesn't handle being confronted with caring about others very well, and the last time it was implied, he ghosted and didn't talk to Husk for almost a decade. Alastor is very dedicated to being the untouchable Radio Demon, and if you try to make him come to terms with the idea of being Perceived, he freaks out.)

And so, when Angel and Husk notice Lucifer and Alastor starting to circle each other, they grab Lucifer to tell him the Rules of the Polycule.

H: "Hey, we noticed you giving Al eyes, we wanted to let you know how to go about this since he's dating us too."

L: "Oh shit! I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

H: "Nah, you're welcome in. We just gotta give you the ground rules because the last time I didn't, it didn't end well for anyone."

L: "What."

A: "Smiles isn't big on being seen as soft, so you just gotta avoid letting him know he IS, is all."

H: "Here's our current schedule, let us know the best times for you and we'll adjust it fairly."

L: "You....you have a SCHEDULE???"

And they hand him a sheet that's basically like:

No telling Alastor about the polycule!

No telling Alastor anything that implies he is soft or cares about you or anyone in the polycule! (He WILL disappear for another 7 years, and everyone else in the polycule will be mad at you)

No trying to force Alastor into doing anything with you (Obviously!)

Ask before joining someone else's Alastor Time(tm) (One on one time isn't always required, but it's just rude to hijack it for no reason)

Try to stick to the schedule the best you can (adjustments are allowed with prior notice, other conflicts, or Alastor himself asking you to do something outside your time)

Dating others (in and outside the polycule) is fine, just be respectful

Respect everyone else in the polycule!

VOX IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE POLYCULE

DO NOT LET VOX SEE THE SCHEDULE

L: "What's...what's with numbers 8 and 9? The TV guy???"

H: "Ugh, he's the reason FOR these rules! I tried to let him join me and Rosie a few years back, and instead he tried to make Alastor his own, permanently. Not only did he tell Alastor that they were dating, and tried to force him to join the Vees, he tried to kick me and Rosie out of the picture! Dealing with that mess was a NIGHTMARE. It took Rosie months to get him to talk to her again, and he practically ignored me before he completely disappeared. We JUST got everything back to normal after that mess."

L: "Uh, okay. Got it, no Vox."

And then, without Alastor ever noticing, he just gets another member of his polycule.

[moviecritc]

hiii, idk if you like to write about lewis, but what about lewis having a fav tattoo artist, he revealed her @ and now everyone wants to get a tattoo by her and then they can become closer? thankss

many tattoos ⋆ lewis hamilton smau

pairing: lewis hamilton x tattoo artist!reader

warnings: none

a/n: silly ass title bc i couldn't think of anything better, also i have no idea about lewis tattoos lore, or anything about tattooing, so sorry if there are inconcluences. i also added that apart from tattoing she also kinda draws¿ like, she works both tattoing and drawing. i hope you enjoyed it

remember that request are open <33

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourname.tattoos just posted!

liked by yourbff, friend1 and 145 others

yourname.tattoos a single mother that works two jobs (+ some tattoos im really proud of)

view all comments

yourbff make me a baby

friend1 smoking hot

user1 price?

yourname.tattoos depends on the size and shape, you can ask for a session and we'll tell you in the shop <3

lewishamilton just added to his story!

[caption: tysm to @yourname.tattoos for making all of these tats all this years]

yourname.tattoos just posted!

liked by yourbff, lewishamilton and 1297 others

yourname.tattoos heyy, this weekend i'm going to be at the miami gp doing some temporary (and permanent) tats thanks to @mercedesamgf1 you can join the waitlist in the link on my bio <33

view all comments

youbff im so jealous like what??

user1 lewis in the likes omggg

user2 and what abt lewis hands in the second pictures????

lewishamilton Let's go 🤜🏿🤛🏿

user3 are lewis and y/n a couple or something?

user4 she's his tattoo artist! she made most of his tattoos and they're probably friends

user5 i can see a soft launch soon

part 2

[protagaster]

Part 1 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

Just a heads up, some of the vignettes in this AU will be structured around the songs in the musical, and some will be short stories detailing the events of the Odyssey (like the prequel did)

Credit to Tumblr users @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium, for their own ideas surrounding their warrior!penelope AUs led to inspiration for mine!

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

The Horse and the Infant

After 10 years of war, of battle and bloodshed, the Greek army has finally gained the upper hand against the Trojans. 

From within her Wooden Horse, Penelope vows to do whatever it takes to end this war once and for all. Whether she is truly up to the task, the Gods will see… 

~

Growing up in Greece children are taught to beware of Pandora’s Box: though something may appear to be enchanting on the outside, what it hides within could bring devastating consequences. 

Penelope was thankful the Trojans did not heed the warnings behind this tale. 

The people of Troy underestimated her and her armies, for no greater reason other than the fact they happened to be women. All of Troy assumed that Greece was in a dire state, for why else would the Greeks have to resort to sending their women to fight in their men’s stead. 

While most of her comrades were offended by this notion, Penelope saw an opportunity to finally turn the tides of war in their favor. 

Everything went according to plan. By pretending to sail their ships back home the Trojans assumed the Greeks to have surrendered. This left them cocky, feeling invincible, to the point they did not question the mysterious “gift” left at their gates. 

They brought the beautiful wooden horse into the heart of their palace, not knowing their very own “Pandora’s Box” was about to be unleashed upon their city. 

~

Penelope let out a deep, steady breath.

Inside that very same wooden horse her comrades sat patiently by her side, their clenched fingers fidgeting on the hilt of their weapons. The eyes of her sisters-in-arms were hungry with scorn, their red and gold armor eager to be stained with Trojan blood.

Penelope looked at each and every woman who had chosen to place their trust in her. The Queen of Ithaca’s confidence had never been higher.

The night was silent and the atmosphere calm. There would be no perfect moment rather than now. 

Penelope stood. In her posture she managed to portray the grace of a Queen, the strength of a Spartan, the innate blood-lust of a warrior of Ares, and the anger of a Mother. 

Her comrades, women who fought both willingly and not against their society’s views to stand by her side, who were forced to part with their futures and families over the course of 9 years, they gazed upon their Captain with only the highest of respect and admiration in their eyes. 

After all, it was only with her leadership that they had all managed to survive up to this point. 

All 600 of them. 

Penelope held her head high, addressing her comrades. Her friends. Her sisters. 

“Alright my sisters, listen closely.” She spoke to them in a hush but commanding voice. “Tonight, we make the Trojans pay.”

“These years of war have killed us slowly, but now we'll be the ones who slay!”

Penelope’s eyes dulled in the middle of her speech, her mind momentarily retreating into its most sacred place. 

Home. Ithaca. 

“Think of your husbands and your children!” 

Many of the women grew angry, recalling how many of their spouses were now permanently maimed and broken because of the Trojans. How their children were forced to grow and mature without their mothers, all because of this damn war. 

“Your families wonder where you've been! They're growing old and yet you're still here,” 

Penelope couldn’t help but look at her hair, not as vibrant as it once was 9 years ago. She couldn’t allow this war to go on for another decade. Not after so much time has been lost already. 

“Do what I say and you'll see them again!”

“Yes ma’am!”

~

The women snuck out of the wooden horse, moving with as much quiet and stealth as they were physically able. Each soldier remembered her role, of what Penelope had ordered of them.

“Aegiale will lead the charge,” 

“Clytemnestra will flank the guards,”

“Helen of Sparta will let our mates through the gates to take the whole city at large,”

“Eune will shoot any ambush attack,”

“And little Glauca will stay back,”

“Eury, free Menelaus and the others,”

“Hermy, help your betrothed, kill Hector's home and brothers!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Penelope watched from the shadows, beaming with pride at the success of her army. 

Her plan was coming to a monumental success. The Trojan warriors, men trained in the art of combat from the moment they could walk, were being hunted from the shadows, one by one, as if they were livestock. 

Less and less guards roamed the halls, their bodies lying against each other in a hidden corner of the palace. The palace walls, once an elegant and expensive marble white, were now stained with the vibrant stains of war-red. 

Troy was now vulnerable. 

“Find that inner strength now, use that well of pride!” Penelope reminded her sisters. “Fight through every pain now, ask yourself inside: What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Every woman reminded herself of why it was she fought, their answers ranging deep within themselves. 

“What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Penelope stared down at the helmet in her hands, unable to forget what it represented. It was specially made just for her, with a metal said to be indestructible. She remembered when it was given to her, only one day before she was forced to leave her home. 

She could never forget the tearful gaze, apologetic and filled with love, of the man who gifted her this helmet. 

Oh how she missed him. 

“Odysseus…”

How she longed to see those intelligent eyes once again. 

“Odysseus…” 

She couldn’t help but recall the time those eyes beamed with pride as they fondly looked down at the very symbol of their love. 

“And Telemachas…” 

Her baby girl, whom she had only known for a single year. What did her baby look like now, 9 years later?

“I fight for us…” 

This was for them. 

“I fight for us!” 

Fighting in this war, aiding her cousin, empowering her fellow woman, following the whim of the Heavens themselves. All of it was for them!

Not for Greece. Not for the Gods. Not even for her. 

For them.

What do you live for?

“Odysseus.” Penelope whispered to herself. 

What do you try for?

“Telemachas.” Penelope stared at her reflection from the helmet’s surface. 

What do you wish for?

“I'm on my way,” Penelope placed the helmet over her head, taking hold of the very spear that started her down this path. 

What do you fight for?

She was going to end this. 

Now. 

“Attack!”

The Greek army made themselves known by jumping out for the shadows, startling the Trojan warriors unlucky enough to be missed during their secret infiltration of the palace. 

Penelope and the others wasted no time inflicting their carnage upon the once untouchable Kingdom. The Trojan warriors were startled at first, desperate to know how their indomitable palace could have been so easily infiltrated. 

It did not take long for them to ready themselves, determined to keep their Kingdom from being painted with even more of that familiar war-red. 

But it was all for naught. 

It did not matter that the Trojan warriors were male; it did not matter that they were bigger, stronger, and more durable than their female counterparts.

For the Trojan soldiers fought to maim, whilst the Greek soldiers fought to kill.

These women recalled how they were forced to watch their husbands leave, only to return one year later with their bodies shattered and spirits broken. They recalled that feeling of loathing and helplessness, unable to even think about avenging their men until permitted by the Gods. 

They remembered the shame on their husbands’ faces for not being able to protect them from fighting in their stead; remembered how their children cried, pleading for them to stay, for the younglings were unable to bear the thought of both parents being destroyed by the war. 

No. Troy had every chance to end this war. Now they suffer just as Greece has, for even the Gods have sealed the kingdom’s fate. 

Tonight, Troy will die.  

~

Penelope, now inside the main court of the palace, speared the throat of one of the Trojan men attempting to slice the back of one of her women. 

There was only a small army of them within that court, both Trojan and Greek alike. The majority of the Greeks fought at the gates of the palace, keeping their adversaries from storming the vicinity.

The warriors fighting by Penelope’s side, only her most trusted sisters-in-arms, worked together to keep themselves and each other alive. Using their many hours of intense training, innate battle prowess, and the blessings bestowed upon them by Ares and Artemis, the women had achieved what was previously thought to be impossible: gaining the upper hand against the Trojan men. 

Bodies littered the dance floor of battle, all of them of Troy. Through Penelope’s strategy, not a single Greek had fallen.

However, as she speared and cut down her enemies, Penelope couldn’t help but notice the Trojan soldiers began fighting sporadically; as if they were desperate to keep her and her comrades from infiltrating the palace any further. 

But why? 

Suddenly, Penelope felt a sharp sting to the back of her head. 

“Ahh!” She collapsed to her knees, rubbing her head to find some relief from the dimming pain. “Who was that?!”

Quick to recover from her bound of shock, Penelope threw herself back to her feet and gripped the hilt of her spear. She was prepared to defend herself against the Trojan foolish enough to strike her. 

What her eyes fell upon, however, was not one of the large, daunting men of Troy. 

It was a Peahen. 

However, this was no ordinary peahen. She was not a modest brown like the rest of her peahen kin. No, this one had her feathers bursting with the familiar blue and green seen on her male equivalents. 

The feathers atop her head had the appearance of a crown, her eyes glowing an eerie white and gold hue. 

Somehow, against all logic, Penelope found herself more fearful of this fowl than she had ever felt against the Trojan armies. 

“A vision…” A voice suddenly appeared in Peneleope’s mind. 

Penelope knew instantly that the voice was coming from the Peahen. The voice was feminine, deep, and full of power. She spoke the same way Penelope would when sitting upon her throne, addressing her subjects. 

“Of what is to come, cannot be outrun. Can only be dealt with right here and now…” 

From that moment she knew the true identity of the Peahen. 

Hera. 

Queen of the Gods. 

Mother of the Heavens. 

“Tell me how.” Penelope asked of the divine Queen.

“I don't think you're ready...” 

The Peahen was honest with the mortal Queen about her thoughts, yet continued with her declaration.

“A mission. To kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before…” 

The Peahen walked with grace as she spoke, silently beckoning the mortal to follow. The disguised Goddess led the Greek to a secret staircase, the very thing the Trojan were trying to hide. 

Penelope instantly understood what the God-Queen was commanding of her.

“Say no more!” Penelope ran up the stairs, confidently holding her spear in anticipation. “I know that I'm ready!”

“I don't think you're ready…” 

Penelope pushed the double doors at the end of the stairs open, eager for her spear-point to make contact with Trojan flesh and to finally end this war once and for all. 

She would not have been surprised to see a bulking man waiting for her behind those doors. After everything she’s gone through in the past 9 years, Penelope genuinely thought herself to be immune to the kind of surprises the Gods could throw at her. 

Unfortunately, the Gods never did follow the whims of the mortals they ruled over. 

There was no man standing behind those doors. In fact, no one stood behind them. 

There was only a cradle. 

Penelope’s eyes widened. Unconsciously dropping her spear, she walked over to look inside the beautiful bassinet. 

There he was. Not a cruel man filled with sin, but a babe. Innocent. Pure. Sleeping with not a worry in the world. 

“It's just an infant…” Penelope couldn’t help but hold her hand out, stroking the child’s untainted cheek. “It's just a boy…”

The baby leaned into the warm hand caressing his cheek, recognizing the hand of a mother. 

“What sort of imminent threat does he pose that I cannot avoid?”

The Peahen, once perched on the ledge of the window in front of the babe’s cradle, spread her wings and flew into the sky. 

“This is the son of none other than Troy's very own Prince Hector!”

Clouds started to surround the flying Peahen. They wrapped around the fowl, slowly covering the beautiful bird in white mist. In seconds the Peahen disappeared, the place where she once hovered now a perfectly shaped mass of clouds formed into the appearance of a tall, beautiful, regal woman.

Commanding the clouds around her with a flick of her wrist, the woman shaped one of them into a tiny baby. The cloud-baby morphed, transforming into the figure of a large grown man. 

“Know that he will grow from a boy to an avenger! One fueled with rage as you're consumed by age…“ 

The cloud-man brandished a cloud-sword, slicing at smaller clouds shaped into a crowd of defenseless people. 

“If you don't end him now, you'll have no one left to save…” 

Hera commanded some of her clouds to begin filling the room, surrounding Penelope and the cradle. She modeled the clouds into the form of a very beautiful, very comforting, very familiar man. 

“You can say goodbye to-”

Penelope’s eyes widened, staring at the face of the man whose life she cherished far more than her own. 

Odysseus… 

This cloud-Odysseus, more detailed than any of the other cloud creations Hera had created, stared longingly at the Greek woman reeking of blood. He smiled, that oh-so familiar smile she had longed to see for the past decade.  

“You can say goodbye to-”

Odysseus…

The cloud-Odysseus gazed down at the baby in the cradle. There was this look in his eyes, this desire to cherish and protect. Penelope knew this look well, for it could only be known by a fellow parent... 

No! 

Penelope couldn’t do this. She was a mother! Her role in life was to treasure and protect children, not discard and kill them! 

“I could raise him as my own!”

“He will burn your house and throne.” 

No… 

No! 

Penelope needed to find a way!

“Or send him far away from home!” 

“He'll find you wherever you go.”

 There had to be another way!

“Make sure his past is never known!” 

“The gods will make him know.”

Why was Hera doing this? Why couldn’t she understand!? Penelope can’t do this!

The mortal threw herself down, bowing before Hera in a desperate final plea. 

“I'd rather bleed for ya, Down on my knees for ya-”

“He's bringing you down on your knees…”

The Queen of Ithaca couldn’t hear herself, the Queen of the Gods overpowering everything within her. 

“I'm begging please-”

“Oh, this is the will of the gods!”

Hera’s voice boomed. Commanding. Declaring. Inevitable. 

Penelope shook her head, slowly and in disbelief. Her chest felt heavy and constricting, making every breath a difficult and pained one.  

…how…

“Please don't make me do this…”

How could she be expected to do this? Something so evil, so cruel? 

Something so monstrous?

“Don't make me do this…”

Penelope didn't know when she began to weep, only realizing when her tears splattered on the cold, hard ground. 

She felt a hand being gently placed atop her bowed head. This hand, once commanding and brimming with devastating power, now offered an ironic sense of comfort. 

From one who was also a Queen.

A Soldier.

A Wife. 

A Mother. 

“The blood on your hands is something you won't lose…” 

The hand’s presence disappeared, along with the many clouds surrounding her person. 

The cloud-Odysseus, whose eyes Penelope couldn’t bear to meet, took hold of her chin. This hand, as large and scarred as she remembered it, held her with a firm gentleness she knew was reserved only for her. 

He tilted her head up, compelling her to meet his gaze. Again, Penelope recognized the look he was giving her. It was the same one he always gave her: eyes filled with a warm, comforting love. 

“All you can choose is whose…”

The cloud-Odysseus faded away, still gazing upon her with those eyes until he was fully gone. 

Would the real Odysseus continue to look at her that way, knowing what she was about to do? 

…

Penelope waited.

… 

And waited. 

…

And waited. 

…

Nothing. 

Hera’s presence was no more. 

All that was left was Penelope, blood-soaked and guilt-ridden, and the baby, still sleeping with not a worry in the world. 

Penelope said nothing. She could only stare at the boy, the very symbol of innocence before it was tarnished. 

Slowly, soundlessly, Penelope picked the boy up. She cradled him gently in her arms, similar to the way she held Telemachas after bringing her into the world. She wanted to make sure he was comfortable. 

Then, without a word, Penelope made her way to the roof of the palace. 

[bellshazes]

dreaming up a syllabus for an imaginary course on metanarratives about gameplay, which i think would go something like:

unit 1: who do you think you are i am - auto-documentary & games

Vlogs and the Hyperreal, Folding Ideas

The Slow Death of Let's Play Videos, Meraki (to ~10:00)

World Record Progression: Mike Tyson, Summoning Salt

ROBLOX_OOF.mp3, hbomberguy

Life as a Bokoblin: A Zelda Nature Documentary, Monster Maze

optional: Braindump on the History of Let's Plays, slowbeef

unit 2: what like it's hard? - intro to challenge narratives

Chapter 26: Games as Narrative Play: Two Structures for Narrative Play, Rules of Play

A different kind of challenge run: Minimalist 100% (BOTW), Wolf Link

Surviving 100 Days on Just Dirt, Mogswamp

Can You Beat DARK SOULS III with Only Firebombs, the Backlogs

Is it Possible to Beat Super Mario 3D World while permanently crouching?, Ceave Gaming

The Pacifist Challenge - Beating Hollow Knight Without Collecting Soul [CHALLENGE] - Sample

optional: How to 100% Snowpeak Ruins in under 15 minutes, bewildebeest

unit 3: nelly you don't understand, i AM the narrative - form and function

The Future of Writing about Games, Jacob Geller

Can You Beat GRIME Without Weapons?, the Backlogs

Mushroom Kingdom Championships, Ceave Gaming

My Life as a Barber in Hitman 2, MinMax (Leo Vader)

MyHouse.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod, PowerPak

optional: Mega Microvideos, Matthewmatosis

the theme and structure is mostly intended to introduce at least one critical or historically contextual work followed by examples of the type of narrative in question.

in unit 1, this is the idea of "How do people talk about their own experiences in the context of YouTube and playing video games?" across three rather different kinds of documentaries. unit 2 is intended to take that lens of who is telling what tale and dial in on challenge running, where i first noticed the way some videos turn the story of overcoming a challenge into its own narrative that is distinct from but related to the narrative events of the game itself. unit 3 circles back to the bigger picture with a variety of examples that, to me, are maximally metanarrative, the emergent story of the player-narrator now functionally replacing the game's embedded narrative.

bonus unit: broken narratives

Glitch & the Grotesque at the MLA, Sylvia Korman

Watching time loop movies to escape my time loop, Leo Vader

The Stanley Parable, Dark Souls, and Intended Play, Folding Ideas

Breaking Madden, Jon Bois

The TRUTH about the Pizzaplex in FNAF: Security Breach, AstralSpiff

this one is highly underdeveloped, but i'd love to work out something more robust building on randomizer challenges that produce intentionally bizarre, semi-ironic "lore," and bois-esque endeavors to break games so hard the story itself crumbles. but that's really out of scope so i'm just including the links to things i couldn't bear to get rid of. more rambling abt the challenge runs I chose under the cut.

Challenge runs represent one of the most obvious places to start, due to being extremely plentiful and having a hook that makes a "here's how I did X thing in Y video game" format almost unavoidable. Minimalist 100% is an underrated and sweet straightforward example that I mostly include as a baseline for reporting-out style narrative; here are the facts, here's what happened, this is the thing that it is. Mogswamp's 100 Days on Just Dirt is similar in style, but the physical measuring of days is a delightful and, more importantly, external narrative device.

Now oriented, we get a taste of Ceave Gaming's narrative approach to Mario challenges with the no-crouching run, and while we still aren't at the degree of player-characters being constructed for the narrative's sake, the spirited belief in crouching sets the stage for other rhetoric in more extreme cases we'll see later.

The Backlogs' entire body of work qualifies here, but GRIME is the strongest inspiration for putting this list together. I include the DS3 firebombs run because what was initially a factual description of how his wife's use of firebombs inspired him to play differently in the original DS1 firebombs run has developed into full-blown multi-game narrative arc with the Firebomb Goddess (his wife, who also voices the character) compelling his in-game character to achieve his destined quest. Grime takes that even further,

In-Game Documentaries

I include Life as a Bokoblin mostly as a contrast to My Life as a Barber - there is a level of fictionalization and roleplay involved in the Zelda in-game documentary that highlights exactly what I want to single out when I am talking about metanarrative, the story about a story.

[awaywith-thefaeries]

YOU MIGHT WANT TO STEP ASIDE | j.seresin

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x floyd!reader

summary: two times your boyfriend and twin brother had to stand up for you, and the one time you shocked them by doing it yourself

warnings: anxiety, shy reader, protective Hangman, protective Bob, insecure reader, self doubt.

a/n: this idea came about when @cherieann-2001 and I were discussing the dagger squad with twin siblings, and we came up with Bob’s twin sis. @cherieann-2001 i’m sorry this took me so long! I hope you like 😊.

word count: 4K

masterlist

the time where your brother introduces you to his friends…

The noise coming from the beachfront bar makes you pause as you follow behind your twin brother. Your hand reaches up unconsciously to grab at the back of Robert's uniform, tugging just hard enough to make your brother pause and turn around to see your eyes shooting from side to side, one of your clear tells when you're nervous.

"You're ok, y/n/n," Robert says gently, bringing his hands up to rest on your shoulder's, knowing from experience that the weight of it brings you comfort when you start to get anxious.

"I...I d....don't think I w...want to g...go in there, Robbie," you say, tripping over your words as your breathing starts to get heavy.

"It's gonna be okay, y/n/n, you're gonna be just fine," Robert says again, pulling you into a tight hug in which you manage to get your breathing under control, "it's just gonna be Nat and some of my squad, we'll have our own table and you don't have to talk to anyone else for the entire night if you want."

Robert can see the exact moment when you make the decision to come into the bar, the spark of curiosity lighting in your eyes at the mention of your brother's co-pilot. You had met Natasha "Phoenix" Trace shortly after your brother's squadron had been permanently assigned to the San Diego base, where you had been working as a kindergarten teacher for the on-base school for the past two years. Being so close to your brother again has been so fun, with the two of you hanging out in every spare moment you had.

The two of you had grown up very close, with Robert being the protective older brother (by three minutes, you had always been quick to whisper sarcastically under your breath whenever he had tried to pull rank) to your quiet, unconfrontational manner.

"Are you ready to go in, or do you need a minute?" Robert asks, hand coming up to rest on the top of your head.

"I...I'm ready," you say, reaching out to tug on your brother's arm and follow after him as he puts his arm around your shoulders and steers you toward the entrance to the bar, under the shining sign reading THE HARD DECK.

Immediately, the noise of the bar makes you flinch and Robert's arm around your shoulders squeezes slightly, and you turn to look at him, finding him already looking at you, asking you if you're okay with his eyes.

You nod at him and tap on his hand, which he lets fall off of your shoulder as he nods towards a booth near the back of the bar, situated right by a pool table. You drop slightly behind him as you follow, preferring to take in your new surroundings from your slightly hidden vantage point behind your brother.

"Bob!" A voice calls from the direction of the table, and you peek slightly around your brother's shoulder to watch as a tall blonde man with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen saunters up to Robert and swings an arm around his shoulders, pulling him forward into a light headlock. You watch, slightly frozen as your brother laughs and fake punches the new man in the stomach, causing him to release Robert, and take a step back, hands going to his hips, stance relaxed as he smiles.

You're so entranced with watching your brother and his pretty friend that you don't notice Natasha coming up on your right, holding a glass of sparkling water in one hand.

"Hey, Y/n," she says softly, just loud enough for you to hear, but not so loud as to startle you.

You turn to look at her, and the first real smile of the night graces your lips.

"Hi Nat," you say, voice quiet as she smiles. She gently holds out the glass of sparkling water to you.

"For you!"

You look down and take the drink from her, thanking her shyly as she smiles at you and tips her head towards the booth, inviting you to go sit with her.

You glance at your brother, finding him already watching you, the tiniest gleam of pride in his eyes as he nods encouragingly. You smile and as you’re turning back to Nat, your eyes meet those of the man who had greeted your brother. He’s looking at you, not staring so much as just observing, and you shiver a little under the the intensity of his green eyed gaze.

Taking a tiny leap of faith, that has your stomach whooshing from the unfamiliarity of it all, you shoot the stranger a shy smile, before quickly ducking your head and sitting down next to your friend.

Much later, you’ve loosened up enough to laugh a little with Nat, who has been sitting with you at the table since you’d arrived. You have even met some of your brothers other pilot friends, including the first guy who had approached the two of you. You’ve learned that his name was Jake, but everyone calls him Hangman. You haven’t had the courage to ask why they call him that, but you noticed your eyes straying to the tall blonde more times than you care to admit. He just has this aura around him that makes you gravitate towards him, although your anxiety won’t let you do more than watch from afar.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the ladies room, are you good here for a bit?” Nat asks you, scooting out of the booth and standing, waiting near the head of the table. You smile, nodding as you wave her away, scooting out of the booth as well.

“Yeah, I’m gonna g…go get another drink, I think,” you say and Nat nods, before heading towards the back of the bar.

You watch her go for a second, then glance around to spot your brother in the middle of a game of pool with one of his friends, Coyote, you remember.

You steal yourself and then make your way through the crowded space, ducking between people until you stand at an open space at the bar.

You watch as the pretty bartender, smiles at the brown haired man she was talking to, who you remember is called Maverick, before making her way over to you.

“Hey, can I grab you a refill?” The woman asks, nodding to the empty glass in your hand.

“Um y…yes pl….please,” you say, stuttering through your words.

The woman’s smile puts you a little bit more at ease, as she asks what you’re drinking.

“Just sp…sparkling w….water.”

The woman nods at you and takes the cup from you. As she uses the soda spout to refill your glass, she introduces herself as Penny, the owner of the Hard Deck.

“We don’t usually get a lot of new customers this time of year,” she says, pushing the newly full glass back towards you, “are you new to town, or just passing through?”

Something about the way she seems so at ease puts you immediately at ease, and you only trip over your words once as you answer, voice getting a little stronger with each word.

“I live about t…ten minutes away, and my brother is in the Navy, he was just recently assigned here. I don’t usually go out by myself, but he asked me to meet some of his friends here tonight.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, who’s your brother?” Penny inquires.

“Um Robert Floyd? You’d probably know him as Bob.”

You wave a hand in the direction of your brother. Penny nods, turning back to you with a smile.

“Well you are always welcome at the Hard Deck! I didn’t catch your name, dear.”

You give your name, and Penny smiles at you once more, before heading off to help another customer.

You look down at your glass to hide the small smile that plays across your lips at the idea that you just met someone without the buffer of your brother.

You’re so caught up in your own head as you make your way back through the tables, you don’t notice the man until it’s too late.

A body slams into yours from the front, causing your water to splash over your hands and down your front as you stumble backwards. Just as you feel yourself falling, a warm presence appears at your back, steadying you with an arm around your shoulders as another pushes out in front of you. The tan hand shoves the man who had hit you, sending him away from you with such a force that he staggers before righting himself.

You look up at the person who saved you, only slightly surprised to see Jake already staring down at you, concern apparent in his gorgeous green eyes.

“What the fuck man?!” The man who had shoved you says loudly, causing you to jump slightly and subconsciously move in closer to Jake’s side.

“Watch where you’re going!” Jake’s voice holds the slightest hint of anger and you instinctively deflate a bit as you open your mouth to apologize.

“Not you, sweets,” Jake says, unknowingly making your heart flutter wildly in your chest at the name, “you did nothing wrong.”

Jake’s hand smooths over your shoulder, as he glares at the other man. The guy scoffs and looks around, as if making sure he doesn’t have an audience, before swinging his glare back to you and Jake.

“Um, I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was the one not looking where she was going!” He accuses, gesturing at you and making you shrink even further into Jake’s side, shame rising when you feel your eyes start to burn with tears.

“You’re gonna want to watch how you speak to her, jackass.”

Jake’s voice is so hard that the guy visibly blanches, and not so subtly takes a step back and away from the angry pilot at your side.

“Apologize to her for spilling her drink, and then fuck right off.” Jake commands, and the guy mutters the quietist apology you’ve ever heard and then disappears into the crowd.

Jake’s hand strokes over your shoulder one more time and then it’s gone. You turn to look up at the man who had come to your rescue, and Jake gently smiles down at you.

“You alright, y/n?” He asks, gaze sweeping quickly over the front of your dress, clearly soaked through from your spilled water, before flicking back up to your face.

“I….I’m o…okay,” you stutter, shame rising at the idea of this handsome man seeing you so humiliated, “th…thank y…you for rescuing m…me.”

“It’s no trouble, sweets,” Jake says easily, swinging his big green jacket off of his shoulders and draping it over your form.

“What do you need?” He asks, once you’ve settled into the material, hiding your soaked dress, noticing your eyes darting around quickly.

Jake’s niece is a shy little thing who has many of the same tendencies that Jake has recognized in you throughout the evening as he watched you sitting with Phoenix. He saw the way your natural tendency is to roll your shoulders forward slightly and curl in on yourself, your hair falling forward to hide that beautiful face from the world.

You stand staring at him in shock for a few seconds, before mentally shaking yourself.

“I’m o…okay, just maybe to sit back down,” you say, and Jake nods, guiding you back over to the booth.

“Wait right here, I’m gonna go grab you another soda water, and then we’ll just sit here until everyone’s ready to go, okay?” Jake asks as you sit down. You nod at him, playing with your fingers as you wait. Once you hear him walk away, you glance up and survey the bar, spotting Nat and your brother engaged in a pool game with Coyote and Rooster watching on.

You shuffle yourself a little deeper into Jake’s jacket, and close your eyes for a few moments, breathing deeply to let the shocking encounter roll off your shoulders.

“You doing okay, y/n/n?” Robert asks as he slides into the booth next to you. You smile up at him, letting your head fall on his shoulder as his arm comes up to rest over your shoulders.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You feel your lips pull up into a smile as you watch Jake lean against the bar and chat with Penny and Maverick, while Penny pours another sparkling water.

“Good.” Your brother is smiling at you when you turn your head to look at him. You grin back, and then let your head drop back onto his shoulder, waiting for Jake to come back with your drink and letting yourself relax into the evening. You might have been anxious going into this evening, but you feel perfectly at ease right now, with your brothers arm around your shoulders and your new (and ridiculously handsome) friend sinking down into the other side of the booth and sliding a fresh glass across the table to you, eyes bright as he settles into a comfortable conversation with your brother.

✯✯✯✯

the time where someone makes the mistake of cutting in front of jake’s girlfriend in line…

The sun is glistening brightly over the ocean as you sit back against your boyfriend’s chest, a soft beach towel beneath you and a book in hand.

The waves lapping against the sand, and the familiar feel of Jake’s fingers combing through your hair lull you comfortably towards sleep, and you close your book, setting it beside you on the towel as you lay your head back against Jake’s shoulder. You eyes are closed as you feel your boyfriend’s arm come up to drape across your chest, caging you into his embrace.

“What are you doing, sweets?” Jake’s voice brings you back from the edge of sleep, his lips brushing across your forehead as his arm across your chest squeezes gently, his fingers drawing small nonsensical patterns on you collar bone.

“Just taking in the moment,” you sigh, shifting to meet his eyes, head still resting on his shoulder. His green eyes gleam with mischief as he meets your gaze.

“But I want to know who she picks,” he says, gesturing to the novel you had put down.

Embarrassment flushes through you as you think about the romance book you had been reading, with its drama filled love triangle.

“Y…you were r…reading it?” You ask, tripping over a few of your words, face burning as you turned your head back to the ocean, away from Jake.

“Hey,” Jake drops his face to your neck, nuzzling you and pressing kisses to the sensitive skin there, “don’t be embarrassed. It was quite an interesting story.”

“Y…you really think so?”

“Of course, y/n/n! I like everything you read.”

“O…okay,” you smile, getting distracted by the attention your boyfriend is lavishing on your neck. You squirm in his grasp as he blows into your neck, causing the two of you to start laughing, as you shake him off and then immediately curl back into his chest, yawning as you snuggle into him.

“What do you wanna do for the afternoon then, Sweets?” Jake asks, fingers going back to trace across your collarbone.

“I don’t know, but I know I’m going to need a coffee for it if it involves being awake,” you say, the heat of the day and the general sense of comfort you feel around your boyfriend contributing to your sleepiness.

“Alright then, baby, let’s get you caffeinated!” Jake says, putting your book into the tote bag lying next to him, before helping you up and shaking out your towel, “Call me selfish, but I’m definitely gonna be wanting your sweet company for a lot longer today.”

You giggle as you hold the bag open for him to deposit the now folded towel in, grinning as Jake uses the opportunity to brush a kiss over your nose. He grins back at you, taking the tote from your hands and slinging it over his shoulder, crooking his elbow so that you can hold his arm.

You snuggle in as close to his side as possible while walking, letting him lead you toward the beaches parking lot and his truck.

You climb into the passenger side after Jake opens the door for you, settling into the well worn leather seat, as your boyfriend starts the engine, pulling out of the beachside parking lot, through a neighborhood, and onto the little high street of your seaside town.

A few minutes later, you’re standing in line outside your favorite coffee truck. Jake has run to the restroom in the shop across the street, leaving you to keep your place in the line, which due to the popularity of the truck, wraps quite far down the sidewalk. You are standing quietly, content to just observe the going’s on of the little high street, when you feel more than see a body push in front of you in line, knocking you back and off balance. You stumble, bumping into the woman behind you, who kindly steadies you, smiling as you stutter out an apology, face flushing in embarrassment.

“No worries, my dear, it wasn’t your fault,” she says, shooting a dirty look over your shoulder at the line cutter, before smiling at you once more and going back to reading the magazine she’s holding.

You turn back to face the man now standing in front of you, as if he’d been waiting in line like the rest of you. You start to think about just letting him stay in the line in front of you, before thinking fuck it and clearing your throat loudly.

The stranger turns around, and the look in his eyes makes you wish you had just let him cut the line. But you’ve come this far and you can hear your brother’s voice in your head telling you to stand up for yourself and not let anyone push you around, so you lift your chin, and ball your hands to stop them from shaking.

“Yes?” The stranger grunts, glowering at you as if you were the one in the wrong.

“Y..you just c..cut in the line. It actually starts b..back there,” you say, pointing down the sidewalk to where the last person in line is standing. You’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, wanting to believe that he had just accidentally just into the line.

The guy just stares at you for a long moment, and you grow more and more uncomfortable by the second. You eventually drop your arm, and wait for him to step back out of the line.

“I…i…i…is it r…r…really,” he scoffs, exaggerating the stutter he puts on as he takes a step closer to you, staring down at you with a mena glint in his eye. “What are you going to do about it, huh?”

Your stomach drops as he crowds you, eyes welling with unwanted tears, which you try furiously to not let escape. You take a deep breath, something which he notices and smirks at, eyes portraying that he’s fully confident in his victory.

Just as you open your mouth to say something, you feel a familiar presence at you back, as your boyfriend slings an arm around your chest, pulling you back into his.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do, buddy,” Jake’s voice is all authority, as he stares down the other man, while simultaneously providing you comfort by letting his fingers stroke over your shoulder as his arm across your chest acts as a protective, comforting barrier, “you’re gonna back the fuck off from my girl, you’re gonna apologize, and then you’re gonna march yourself right to the back of the line and wait, just like everyone else is.

The two men seem locked in a stare down for a few tense moments, as your hands come up to grip Jake’s forearm. The line cutter holds strong for a solid five seconds longer before blinking and taking a step back.

“Fine, whatever.” You and Jake watch him as he walks away, not even in the direction of the end of the line.

You feel Jake’s arm tighten briefly across your front, before it fell away, one hand gripping your hand, spinning you around and into his arms. You hands land on his chest, and you stare up at him, struck breathless from the clear adoration in your boyfriends eyes.

“You okay, Sweets?” He asks, on hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and he searches your eyes for a few moments, no doubt making ure you were being truthful, before dropping his head to brush his lips against yours.

“Well aren’t you two just the sweetest.”

You pull away from Jake and look towards the voice, seeing the woman who you’d stumbled into. She was smiling, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she does. You smile back, slightly apologetically.

“I’m sorry again for knocking into you,” you say, still feeling guilty despite knowing that it hadn’t really been your fault. The woman waves you off.

“It’s no problem at all, dear,” she says, before glancing between you and Jake. Jake nods at her, silently thanking her for helping you out. She smiles back, eyes glazing over for a second.

“You two have a beautiful day, alright,” she says, before gesturing to the coffee truck’s open window, which you hadn’t even realized had gotten closer, till you were the next people in line.

“You too, Ma’am,” Jake says, hooking an arm around your waist, “now, let’s get you caffeinated, baby.”

✯✯✯✯

the time where someone makes the mistake of hitting on Jake in front of his girl…

🎶Slow Ride. Take it Easy🎶

You laugh, bright and open as you and Jake walk in to THE HARD DECK to the first strains of “Slow Ride” coming from the jukebox in the corner. When you look over towards the music corner, you laugh even harder as you spot your brother and Rooster grinning back at you, and the man next to you.

“Of course, it was them,” Jake laughs, and guides you towards the group of pilots who had quickly become your friends after Bob introduced you that first night at the Hard Deck.

When you reach the table, you sit next to Phoenix and Jake scoots in after you.

“How has everyone been?” You asks, shifting into Jake’s side as his arm takes up its usual spot around your shoulders. Your brother scoots into the booth across from you, and pushes your favorite drink towards you.

“Thanks Robbie,” you smile, raising the drink to your lips and taking a sip.

Much later, you and Natasha are coming back from the bathroom together, where you both had been freshening up after an intense match of darts between Jake and Bradley had left you both crying with laughter, which subsequently caused your mascara to run.

“Omg, look y/n/n,” Nat says, pointing towards the bar, where a fake busty blonde is currently trying to shove her boobs into your boyfriends face.

“Not again,” you complain, which causes Nat to laugh and loop her arm through yours, as you make your way through the throngs of bar patrons to your table. You keep you eyes on the blonde currently chatting up your Jake, although he remains completely un-responsive to her advances.

It’s only when she starts to brush her hand along Jake’s arm, and leans in the closest she’s ever attempted that you and Nat both stand up, and Natasha looks to you for a moment.

“You want me to deal with her?” She asks, rolling her shoulders as if preparing to physically remove the woman from the bar. You love your friend for being so ready to come to your aid, but based on the fact that regardless of Jake’s repeated dismissal of the blonde, this is the third week in a row that she has tried, even you and your non confrontational nature are getting frustrated. Natasha and Bob have dealt with distracting the woman away from Jake every other time she has attempted to put the moves on, but this time, you shake your head at your friend and motion for her to sit down again.

“No, thank you Nat, but I think I’m going to go over there tonight,” you say, the two drinks you had had earlier giving you a courage you normally didn’t possess as you push your hair away from your face and turn to walk over to the blonde to hopefully, finally get this woman to back off from your man, leaving Nat cackling gleefully in your wake.

Meanwhile, Jake drums his fingers in a nonsensical pattern on the bar as he keeps his gaze firmly off of the woman on his right, currently crossing her arms under her breasts, so that her tiny top strains to keep her breasts in.

Penny smiles at him as she slides his beer over to him.

“There you are, soldier.” She says, and Jake laughs at her, shooting her his signature grin as he lifts the pint to his lips ad takes a swig.

“Thanks a million, Penny Pie,” Jake says, jokingly using the nickname that the squad had given Penny when she and Maverick had announced to them that they were getting married.

As Penny walks away, the blonde, Jake thinks her name was Jessica?, moves closer to Jake, brushing his arm with her chest and blinking her heavily lined eyes up at him.

“Oh, the bartenders taken, stud,” she says, in a tone which suggests she thinks that she is saving Jake from a horrible heartbreak. He shifts away from her again and is about to ask her to please leave him alone, when someone beats him to it.

“So is he.”

A grin immediately finds its way onto Jake’s face at the sound of your voice and he turns around, immediately spotting you a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest, eyes glaring at Jessica and an adorable pout on your lips.

“Hi, baby,” he says, opening his free arm for you. You move towards him and wrap your arms around his middle, leaning against him. You kept your glare on Jessica, as the blonde looked between you and Jake, mouth slightly agape.

“Really?” She asks, tone biting and frankly mean, “this is who a stud like you is with?”

Jake frowns, arm tightening around you, as he opens his mouth to defend you. But again, for the second time that night, you beat him to it.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, smiling at the blonde who glares back at you, “and I’m also the person who he’s going to continue to be with, so you might wanna step aside and take your desperate attempts elsewhere.”

You flick your hand at her, still riding the high of your drinks from earlier and then once she leaves, you turn your head you look up at your boyfriend. Jake is gazing down at you, the look in his eyes heated.

“Baby…” he trails off, hand coming up to brush across your cheek, “that was…”

You smile a little sheepishly up at him.

“A little out of character I know,” you say, feeling a little dramatic and self-conscious for what you just did.

“…extremely hot.” Jake finishes his sentence, grinning as he brings you in for a kiss.

“I love you, Jake,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading! My requests are open, so if there is anything you’d like to see me write, please check my rules and feel free to ask! I should be able to get to a lot more because I’m free from college for the summer! I always love to chat and appreciate every reblog, comment and like. Happy Reading!

[anjanahalo]

Potential DPxDC Fic 6

Guess it could be just DP. I just like DPxDC. It's a Bad Fenton Parents fic, but based on me reading about various new forms of child abuse to use. CW below for childhood neglect and stuff.

Danny is born into the Fenton family after Jack and Maddie lose their beloved Jasmine to The Stystem. Taken from their home and placed in foster care for small things like forgetting to get her lunch perfectly on time (or every day after a breakthrough) or getting behind on laundry for awhile (after spending a week backing up their research in case of a ghost or EMP strike. Its not like they managed time to bathe or change clothes, either!). They wouldn't make the same mistake as they would with their lovely daughter. Instead of announcing the pregnancy, they kept quiet. Maddie stayed home so the neighbors didn't see her growing belly. When the birth came, they delivered at home (a biology degree is good enough!), and vowed to home school him so he would stay and not be taken away. The homeschooling didn't...end up with the same results as traditional school. They were both still busy closing in on their portal, after all, so lessons were usually sporadic and centered around their work. Danny definitely had the Fenton Genius (TM) from how he picked up advanced physics, calculus, mechanical engineering and mathmatics. He still wasn't great at reading regular words or writing, but his numbers are neat and his calculations flawless, so things like English and History could sit on the side. It was sad, of course, how Danny was stuck in the home for the sake of the family, the curtains permanently drawn to avoid the nosy neighbors that tore apart their family before, but instead of moping or rebellion, he worked alongside them as soon as he could. Maddie framed his first hazmat suit, gifting him a new one with each growthspurt, always white ("We'll let you pick your own Fenton OSHA Approved Hazmat Color once you grow up, Danny."), and he stood with his parents as they tried to open the portal when he turned fourteen. And it failed. Dejected, all three left and ate the planned celebratory fudge with sullen expressions, the fudge itself feeling overly tacky with their depression. Danny, however, got up in the middle of the night and snuck into the basement, his steps smooth and confident even in the darkness of the house (he could get anywhere in the house with his eyes closed). He crept into the basement, an idea striking him. There was an auxillary power button inside the portal itself, meant as a backup or last resort override. However, Danny knew his dad installed the electrical system overnight one night in a fit of manic inspiration. What if it wasn't the auxillary power button anymore? He slipped on his hazmat suit. He walked into the portal, double checked the wiring, and looked up at the button, red and obvious in the wall. If he was correct, he thought as he raised his hand to the button, all he had to do was-

Jack and Maddie raced down the stairs as the lights flickered and a faint cry rose from below. In the basement they found Danny in his hazmat suit. He stared at them with frightful shock, his hair and left hand singed, then turned toward the humming that enraptured his parents as soon as the descended. The portal was working. It worked! Jack and Maddie and Danny were all elated, but Danny began to recede from their work. Stating he wanted to journal their portal research and development into a story, he began to hide in his room more and more. He ordered and read books on biology, psychology, even philosophy, because he knew what happened to him. The portal opened on him, and he died. He awoke in the basement as a ghost, barely transforming himself into something human looking before his parents arrived. However, what he thought he felt went against everything he knew about ghosts. Ghosts weren't sentient. They were emotions strongly imprinted on ectoplasm. Enough ectoplasm or emotions and an echo of those dead feelings rose, taking on an avatar and acting purely off the instinct of the moods that made them. Considering ectoplasm usually manifested with death, and the strongest emotions of the dying are usually fear and anger, most ghosts were destructive with no care for property or life, mindless monsters who'd tear apart the mortal world if left to their own devices in a vain attempt to soothe their undying emotions. But Danny still felt like Danny. He had thoughts, emotions, physical feeling, everything like when he was...when the portal wasn't open. Research, thankfully, taught him what happened. After all, signs were there that something changed for the worse in him. He felt afraid of his parents, and he'd begun lying to them daily when he could never remember telling a fib. On top of that were the strange new powers he couldn't control and shapeshifting abilities between himself and some ghostly manifestation of himself. The portal changed him. He wasn't Danny the Human anymore, but he wasn't a typical ghost, either. Danny was a Philosophical Zombie, and he had no idea how he's gonna tell his parents.

[otomes-world]

From time to time I see notifications with likes of my not quite au with rsa!mobs. Also considering that I liked Neigh from the very beginning and wrote fics about him, one idea came up. I will regret it very much, very much, but..

As if, now my old-new impression of the characters is like this.

Here they are from left to right:

Aro, - we'll leave the names as they were originally intended, in order to honor of the original author - the quietest and most suspicious of the three. You're walking down the street, there he is. You went into the store to buy some groceries, he's standing in front of the checkout. You went jogging in the woods, and there he is, too.

His image plays into his hands as many times as it takes. At some point, you notice him in the distance or, on the contrary, very close, it doesn't matter, and you begin to consider him part of the background. Who are you to bother him, right?

A huge miscalculation on your part. Because when he actually approaches you to talk for the first time - for any reason - you won't suspect anything strange. Hell, you've known each other for so long. Even if for most of this "time" he simply existed. He's become so integral to your life that it's strange to go shopping without seeing at least the top of his head.

His constant sleepiness completes the picture. You can't help but worry about him, because he could be anywhere at any time. Not everyone around you is as kind or understanding as you.

He's not like all the other boys around you. He doesn't get into fights, he's not rude - he rarely speaks, to be honest - he's a model child and student. If there was an award called "Any Teacher's Dream", he would be in nominating hall as well.

He always listens, no matter what nonsense or stupidity you ask. You were talking about the lifestyle of snowy owls, so why did you stop? Aro doesn't mind if you lecture him about these birds, even if it started an hour ago and it's past midnight now.

As soon as he confesses, you… what are you? It's like he's become such permanent part of your life that you have been dating for a long time. You call him for help. You share with him very first breaking news. You ask him for advice. At some point, you have to wonder if you even had any friends before Aro came along.

Silver or Quicksilver, he is that very child who grew up on fairy tales about brave knights who slaying dragons and rescuing princesses. The very one who will come to sing you a serenade under your window and will dodge flying pillows of awakened ghosts along the way.

The one who will be watching you from the far end of the street, on the opposite side, and when you give in and come over to clear things up, he will drop to one knee and propose marriage right then and there. Ignoring your completely unimpressed gaze, he will look at you with his glowing, childlike eyes.

Getting rid of him is some miracle, no doubt, but you return to the dorm, and there is a pair of white doves with a wreath waiting by the door. Where did he even find them? Are there any companies that provide services of specially trained birds that deliver boxes? What do you mean, there is a whole dovecote of them in the RSA? What do you mean, you will receive flowers and gifts regardless of whether you want them or not?

As soon as you give up on trying to appeal to his working brain cells - you have already convinced yourself that he does not have any - he will jump up and start apologizing for his behavior, simultaneously adding compliments to you in his speech. At some point, you come to terms with the fact that the whole street is watching the unfolding scene. No, you are not filming a teen drama. No, you are seeing him for the first time in your life. No, he is not crazy… although, perhaps, people are right about that.

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you slowly resigned yourself to the idea of ​​turning your dorm into a flower shop. The other students began to run away when they saw you in the hallway, as you handed out flowers to everyone you met. When you ran out of people, you went around for a second round. Then a third...

Good luck trying to explain to this RSA prince, one of the RSA princes, that things don't work like that. As you left with another bouquet, you mentally figured out who you could give it to.

Raven. A fine, well-mannered young man. He never raises his voice, always lends a helping hand to those in need. Wait, why does he have such a sly, suspicious look? If you ask him directly, he will put on an innocent expression and ask in response, “Aren't you imagining things?”

No, you're not. You are more than sure that you have seen the way he looks at RSA-Silver when he thinks that no one is watching. Your compass, magnetized by all the overblots and other NRC students, works like a clock for such things. You will not let his pretty face fool you.

Exactly, but now you are sitting in a cafe and discussing… what were you discussing?.. He has a mysterious ability to bring arguments in the most neglected cases and convince you to do what you initially did not want. After two minutes of conversation, you no longer remembered your complaints about him, as if they had not existed in the first place. All problematic issues are listened to and turn into such trifles that it is worth considering whether you were dissatisfied with something.

He is attentive, always noticing the smallest changes and reading your mood like an open book. You were thirsty, so he hands you a bottle of water. You were thinking about something sweet, what a coincidence, he has some of your favorite candies in his pocket. You seemed to want to eat a certain cuisine, and during lunch he asks if you would like to visit a cafe where it is served.

At some point, everyone starts considering you a couple long before you hear him confess. It's exactly as you wanted it, as well as it completes the picture perfectly. You tried to refuse, but the same thing happens. He turns all your negatives about the relationship into reasons why you should say yes. This doesn't obligate you to anything. You are mature understanding individuals who are taking closer look at each other. Dating someone doesn't mean that you have to spend your whole life together.

However, you get the idea that it will be impossible to break up with him.

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.9

Chapter Summary: Joel nurses you back to health and you come to a startling realization about your future together.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of some injuries, fluff, protective Joel, soft Joel, little bit of angst, lots of feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

After arriving back in Jackson, you ended up spending nearly three weeks in the infirmary. Your injuries were worse than you thought. From what you could remember, Bill said you had some internal damage along with several fractures and sprains. The cut in your leg was infected, but fortunately Eugene's group did manage to successfully trade for the rest of the antibiotics before everything happened in Salt Lake City.

You ended up sleeping quite a bit in those weeks, but Ellie told you later that Joel hardly ever left your side. She had said she would get into arguments with him, trying to convince him to take turns at your bedside so he could go home and rest, but he refused.

"I don't know which one of you is more stubborn - you or him," Bill mumbled to you as he gently removed the IV from your arm. You chuckled, your eyes finding his broad form outside your bedroom talking quietly with Tommy, just out of earshot.

"Definitely him."

You were grateful Bill let you go home, but he insisted on doing house visits twice a day until you were on your feet. Most of your superficial wounds had healed but you were still very tired and weak. Bill could see improvement every day, and he said that's all that mattered.

On his way out, Bill stopped to check in with Joel, no doubt updating him on your condition and any medicine he would have to administer for you. You watched his face as he listened intently, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the bottles Bill handed him. You had to stifle a giggle when you saw him squint at the label and hold it further away from his face.

While Joel and Bill continued to talk, Tommy slipped past them and into your room, giving you a grin as he plopped down in the chair next to your bed.

"Lookin' good," he said, making you laugh and then wince, gingerly touching your ribs.

"Liar," you said, and he chuckled, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the scabs and yellow bruises with a sigh.

"Just wanna let you know, we cut off all trades with 'em," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"I figured. I know they had a lot of things we could use - "

"We'll find those things somewhere else. Not worth it," he said, cutting you off.

You nodded and cast your gaze to the side.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he replied, tapping his foot on the floor. "Maria said she was gonna stop by later after work, you think you're up for it?"

"Yeah, of course," you said, although you honestly couldn't tell these days. It seemed like you fell asleep at the drop of a hat.

"How's Ellie?" you asked him. Whenever you asked Joel, he frustratingly just gave you the most basic information. She's fine. She's in school. Think I saw her with a couple girls the other day.

"She's adjusting real good. She's been stayin' with Julia, but I'm not sure it's a permanent solution for either of them." He eyed you carefully as your gaze drifted over his shoulder at Joel, who was walking Bill down the steps to the front door. "You got any ideas?"

"Me?" you asked, looking back to him now and raising your eyebrows in surprise. You knew what he was implying, and he just nodded.

"I would love it if she wanted to stay here, but I'm pretty sure Joel wouldn't like that, and I really don't want to push him right now. He's so stressed, Tommy. I can see it in his eyes. He's not sleeping well, and I'm worried about his blood pressure -"

"Have you talked to him about it? About the kid?" Tommy asked, and you shook your head.

"No, but he made his feelings pretty well known when she first got here."

"Lots happened since then. He might surprise you," Tommy said, standing up with a grunt. You frowned and opened your mouth to question him further when Joel walked through the door, his gaze falling on his brother.

"Just headin' out, don't worry, I know she needs her rest," Tommy said, sneaking you a wink as he headed towards the door. You thanked him for visiting and listened to them walk down the stairs, their voices fading the further they got until the door closed and all that was left was Joel's heavy footsteps slowly coming back up. He reached the door and leaned against the frame as he gave you a small smile, but you could see how exhausted he was. His eyes looked bloodshot and his shoulders sagged.

"Come here," you whispered, and he quickly pushed off the wall to come to your side.

"What'dya need, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing at the cup next to your bed, making sure it was still filled with water. "Hungry?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, but he looked at his watch and mentally did the math.

"You'll have to eat somethin' soon with your meds, what can I make you?" he asked, and you shook your head again.

"Can you please just lay with me for a while?"

He hesitated but you reached out to drag your fingertips against his wrist, urging him closer to the bed, and he gave in.

"Alright, only for a few minutes," he said, rounding the end of the bed and collapsing onto the covers with a groan, sliding his eyes closed in relief.

"I wish you'd rest more," you murmured after you gingerly rolled yourself onto your side so you could look at him. "I'm worried about you."

He chuckled and turned his head to the side to look at you in disbelief.

"You're worried about me? You're jokin', right?"

You reached out to lightly brush a stray curl away from his eyes, choosing not to reply. You knew it would be a losing battle anyway.

"Can't rest," he said, staring at you with his eyes all soft. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to rest again."

"Why?" you asked, your brow furrowing.

He shook his head, his eyes still pinned on yours and you watched them slowly fill with tears. You gave him a look of concern and inched a bit closer to cup his face, the pad of your thumb swiping over his rough beard as you waited for him to open up.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice thick as he tried to hold back his tears. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault -"

"I keep lettin' you down. Over and over again," he continued, a tear slipping down his cheek. "And I just wanna tell you that I understand now. 'Bout all of it. Why you're so scared 'bout havin' a family or gettin' married. And it's fine, I won't bring it up again, alright?"

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" you asked, searching his face for answers.

"I can't - " he paused and took a deep breath before trying again. "I can't take care of us. I thought I could but it's clear I can't when all this bad shit keeps happenin'. But if you'll still have me, I'll be right here, okay? I'll take whatever you wanna give me, I don't care 'bout any of that other shit anymore. I just want you."

"Slow down," you said, trying to wrap your fatigued mind around what he was saying. Your grip on his jaw tightened before you continued. "You never let me down, do you understand me? You are the only fucking thing that kept me going the past few years. Without you, I would be dead. I would have died that very first day. I owe you my life, Joel. How do you not see that?"

He just shook his head, refusing to accept what you were saying, so you kept going.

"I should have just been honest with you, but it took me a while to figure out why I was so scared about - "

"You don't need to explain - "

"Let me finish," you said, and he clamped his mouth shut. "It's not you, Joel. Well, it is. But not for the reason you think."

He frowned, blinking back tears as he waited for you to continue.

"It's because I love you so much that it scares me." You could feel your own tears forming now, but you tried to push through. "If something were to happen to you out there and I was left all alone, I don't know how I could go on." You swiped away a few tears that fell as you spoke. "And I'm terrified of getting married because if you die, that day will haunt me, Joel. Every single year when the anniversary comes, I - "

You stopped for a moment, your breaths coming in short gasps. He tried to shush you and pull you closer, but you shook your head.

"I'm not strong enough," you finished with a small sob. This time, you let him pull you into his chest while his big hands cradled the back of your head, patting down your hair, soothing you.

"Does that make sense?" you blubbered, pulling back to look at him.

He nodded slowly, his eyes raking down your face.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Thought I wasn't gonna get you back after they took you. Thought I lost you forever."

The two of you sat in silence for a minute, lost in each other's eyes, the truth finally spoken and swirling around the quiet room as you both clung to the other, just grateful to be alive.

"But you did get me back," you finally said, breaking the silence. "You did that. You saved me. Again." You ran your finger gently over his bottom lip and he gave the tip of your finger a little kiss.

"You might think you can't keep me safe, but in reality, you are the only reason I'm still here." The puzzle was finally piecing together in your mind as you spoke.

"That's not true," he said immediately. "Every situation that's put you at risk could've been avoided if I had protected you more. I wouldn't have to save you if I didn't put you in harm's way in the first place."

"But this is the world we live in, Joel. None of us will ever truly be safe ever again. And it's not because of something you did. It's just a really shitty hand we were all dealt and now we have to figure out a way to make the most of it and survive." You paused for a moment, something in your brain finally clicking as the words came tumbling out.

"We can't let fear run our lives," you said softly.

He looked at you, your gaze fixed on the wall behind him as what Maria said so long ago finally made sense. It was like you were seeing through the fog. Like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you could breathe deeply for the very first time.

It took you and Joel to finally have a raw and honest conversation, but you thought you understood what she meant now.

"You okay?" Joel asked, clearly confused. You let your gaze fall back to him and you grinned.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly, then tugged him forward so you could press your lips against his, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to hold him against you.

You weren't afraid anymore.

A few days later, you woke up to the sound of the front door downstairs swinging shut. Your eyes snapped open and you strained your ears, trying to listen to the muffled words through the closed bedroom door.

"Told ya to be quiet, she's tryin' to sleep," you heard Joel say.

"Sorry, the fucking wind took the door from me and this stupid backpack is so heavy. Why do I even need to go to school? Who cares about this stuff anymore?"

"I do, 'cause it keeps you out of trouble and outta my hair."

"Ha, yeah right. You know both those things are impossible, old man," you heard Ellie scoff.

"How the hell old do you think I am?"

"The way you can barely read the instructions on the back of that pasta box? You don't want me to answer that."

You grinned as you listened to the two of them bicker amongst themselves. You weren't sure when it happened, but at some point in the past several weeks, Joel and Ellie finally seemed to have a breakthrough in their relationship. You wanted to ask, but you didn't want to draw attention to it. The two of them were so alike in so many ways that you knew if you pointed it out, they would pull back and stop making progress. So in the meantime, you just enjoyed listening and watching them whenever you got the chance.

With a small grunt, you pushed yourself off the mattress and swung your legs over the side of the bed, taking a moment to catch your breath before reaching out and using the end table to support your weight so you could stand. Walking was getting easier; the worst part was still the healing gash in your thigh. Bill said the knife one of Amy's men used must have cut through some muscle, so you were slowly building your strength back up by taking very short walks around your bedroom every day.

With small, careful steps, you managed to get to your bedroom door and open it quietly, listening to Ellie helping Joel make spaghetti in the kitchen while she told him about her day. You stopped at the top of the stairs and peered down.

"Ellie?" you called out softly.

You heard a spoon clatter on the counter and Joel's heavy footsteps jog to the foot of the stairs. He looked up at you with a towel in his hand, worry etched across his face. Ellie quickly joined him and looked up at you with a grin.

"What's wrong? Why're you up?" Joel asked, taking the steps two at a time.

"Nothing!" you said with a smile as he reached the top and wrapped an arm around you gently to help steady you. "I just wanted to see Ellie."

"I thought you were asleep," she said, bounding up the stairs.

"C'mon, let's get back to bed," Joel urged. You sighed and allowed him to lead you back to the bedroom, but you chose to sit on the edge of the bed instead of getting back under the covers like he clearly wanted you to do.

"Come on, tell me what's going on out there. Joel's not much of a gossip," you told Ellie with a wink, and Joel huffed somewhere behind you, fixing the sheets.

"Well, Maria wants to get married the second you're back on your feet. Says she wants to do it before she starts showing," Ellie started, and you felt the mattress dip with Joel's weight next to you.

"Yeah, she told me that already. What else? How's school?"

"It's alright. I met a few girls, we hang out sometimes."

"That's great!" you told her, happy that she was acclimating well. "How's Julia?"

Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes at the mention of the older school teacher who graciously let her live with her.

"She's nice, but she's just got such strict rules. I've gotten into it with her a couple times when I was late for curfew," Ellie admitted, looking down at her fingers twisting in her lap.

"It's important that you listen to her, y'know. She's just lookin' out for you," Joel said softly, and you had to tuck your chin against your chest to hide your smile. He was so sweet with her now, like he had known her his whole life, and it took some time getting used to hearing it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ellie said sullenly. "I just get so bored. She spends her evenings planning her lessons or knitting. Knitting! It's so quiet over there, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."

"Well, why don't you move in with us?" Joel asked with a shrug. Both you and Ellie froze, your eyes widened in shock. You slowly turned your head to the side to look at him, unable to form words.

"What?" he asked, swiveling his head back and forth when neither of you said anything.

You were about to respond when Ellie jumped up excitedly, about to wrap her arms around Joel's shoulders, then stopped herself.

"Really? Can I?" Her eyes darted between you both, a huge grin plastered across her face.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly with a nod. "Yeah, of course you can." You tried your best to blink back the tears that were quickly forming.

The three of you heard some hissing coming from downstairs and Joel leapt up, muttering about the water for the pasta as he clattered quickly down the steps, leaving just you and Ellie.

"Holy shit," she said, still grinning.

"Uh, yeah, 'holy shit' is right," you said with a chuckle.

"You didn't have anything to do with that?"

"Me? Nope," you said, quickly shaking your head. "Although it was on my mind, I just never found the right time to talk to him about it."

"Wow," she muttered, sitting on the bed next to you. "Guess he doesn't hate me, after all."

"Told you," you said, nudging her shoulder with your own.

You sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought while you listened to Joel muttering to himself in the kitchen. A smile played across your lips at the sheer domesticity of it. A feeling that you never thought you would get to experience just fell into your lap when you least expected it.

"I never got a chance to ask," you began, and Ellie turned her attention back towards you. "Does anyone else know?"

She shook her head.

"When you were passed out in the truck on the way back, Joel told me he had to tell Tommy and Maria but then he got so distracted with you at the infirmary that I guess he never got around to it."

You hummed and nodded, wondering if Joel truly forgot or if he changed his mind. Either way, you knew it would have to come out some day, but you had hoped it would be on Ellie's terms.

"And what did he tell Tommy? About the Fireflies?"

"The truth. Well, mostly. Just left out a few things. He told him they were working on a vaccine and that they kidnapped you, obviously."

"But how did he explain why they took me without telling him they really wanted you?" you asked, your pain killers making it tough to keep up.

"I told them they took people to experiment on," she said. "I thought that's what they were doing, anyway, at first."

You chewed your lip for a moment, eager to learn more but careful about pushing her too far.

"How did you guys find me?" you finally asked. You had tried to get the story out of Joel multiple times already, but he kept dodging the question, and the curiosity was getting the best of you.

Ellie's body stiffened next to you. She straightened her back as she took a sharp inhale of breath.

"He didn't tell you?"

You just shook your head slowly.

"Well, we, uh, went back to my aunt and uncle's house," she said, dropping her eyes to her lap. "He figured out they were the ones who called the Fireflies to come take you. Or, I guess me, but whatever."

"Oh," you said softly. You hadn't expected Ellie to know about any of that.

"It's alright, Joel told me after you were taken. That you thought they might've sold me off," she said, as if reading your mind.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry," you said, but she just shook her head.

"It's fine," she said, but you could see in her face she was hurt. After a moment, she added "it worked out in the end, right? I found you guys."

You gave her a tight smile as you felt the swell of emotions rising up your chest, squeezing your throat. You cared for Ellie so deeply that you were almost inclined to agree with her. Even though you were just as happy to have her in your lives, it still made you sick to think about what she had to endure to get there.

Then, you realized Ellie never elaborated about their return visit. You glanced over at her and wanted to ask, but decided against it. She looked upset enough, and if it was anything like you saw at the hospital, you preferred not to bring it up.

Joel startled you both by appearing silently in the doorframe.

"You girls ready to eat?"

Girls. The way he said it warmed your heart.

"So long as you didn't burn it," Ellie said teasingly as she stood up from the bed. "I'll bring some up for you," she said to you over your shoulder as she headed down the stairs.

"C'mon, lemme help you get back in bed and I'll get your tray," Joel said, but instead you held out a hand to stop him, making him look at you.

"Thank you," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands.

"For what?"

You smiled at him and he lifted an eyebrow at you, amused but curious.

"For giving me a family."

It took a few weeks, but your bones eventually healed and you were able to get back to work. Maria would only schedule you for half days and you argued that you could do more, but by the time you got home after only four hours, you had to admit you were exhausted.

Bill told you it would take some time for you to feel like yourself again, that it was completely normal and that you would need to build your strength back up. You had to constantly remind Joel you needed to start doing things for yourself, but he would still do whatever he could to keep you from getting up too much.

Joel heard you sigh from the bathroom and within seconds he was in the doorway, buttoning up his dress shirt with a tie draped loosely around his neck.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," you said quickly as you continued to stare into the mirror and fidget with your hair. "I can't get my hair to look the way I want it."

"I think you look beautiful," he said, sauntering over with his shirt still untucked to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, gazing at you in the mirror while he planted a quick kiss to your neck.

You sighed and tilted your head to the side, encouraging him to explore your neck more. You arched your back just a bit, pushing yourself back into his hips, causing his arms to stiffen around you.

"No funny business," he murmured against your skin, and you grinned.

"Not even a little funny business?" you teased, and you felt him chuckle lightly against your back.

"Nope. We're gonna be late," he said, pulling back suddenly but giving you a small tap on your ass with his palm before he walked away.

You glanced at the time and gasped quietly. He was right. Tommy and Maria's rehearsal dinner was in ten minutes, and even though it was just a handful of you at their house, you still didn't want to be late. Maria spent too much time planning this wedding and the last thing you were interested in doing was setting off the short fuse she had developed over the past couple weeks.

Quickly, you put on some old lipstick and fixed your dress before turning off the bathroom light. Joel was just finishing up knotting his tie, leaning forward a bit with his lips parted as he watched himself carefully in the mirror above your dresser and you had to resist the urge to push him down on the bed right then and there.

Ever since your energy slowly began coming back, so did your desire for Joel, but he was adamant about waiting until you were feeling better, which just left you feeling crazier by the day. You weren't sure if it was because you were finally on the mend, or maybe it had something to do with your breakthrough with him, but you found yourself feeling a lot needier than usual.

"Ready?" he asked you before running his fingers casually through his curls once more and walking over to you. You nodded, your lips pressed together as you glanced down at the blue shirt and navy slacks he picked out.

"You look good," you told him, your tone suggestive. He smirked and took your hand, leading you out of the bedroom.

"Ellie, we're leavin'," Joel called out to her, ignoring your compliment. "There's leftovers in the fridge!"

"Okay!" she called out, the sound of her music softly flowing through the floorboards as you made your way downstairs.

"Should we bring any pain killers in case you start gettin' sore?" Joel asked.

"No, I'll be fine."

"You sure? 'Cause-"

"Alright fine, we can bring them," you relented, just eager to get out of the house at this point. You pocketed them in your small purse and the two of you headed out towards Tommy and Maria's house, luckily arriving with two minutes to spare.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Maria as she greeted you with a warm hug.

"Me? What about you?" she said with a laugh.

"Oh, I'm fine! I want to hear all about you and what the future hellraiser is putting you through."

"She ain't fine," Joel said behind you, turning his head away from his brother. "Bill said-"

"Bill said I need to work on building up my strength. To me, that's fine," you told him, and he rolled his eyes.

"You two are so alike, it's scary, you know that?" Maria asked, leading you into the kitchen for a drink. You smiled and waved when you saw Carrie and Jake, along with Eugene and another woman who you thought was named Tina, but you couldn't quite remember, rounding out the rest of their wedding party.

"So really, how have you been feeling?" you asked her, taking the glass of wine she offered you.

"Nauseous, but it's getting a little better. And tired. Oh my god, I'm so tired all the damn time, it's crazy!"

"Oh, wow," you said, taking a sip before adding "you aren't even showing yet. How far along did Bill say you were?"

"I'm close to the end of the first trimester, thank god. He says that's when the nausea usually goes away and I should get some energy back," she said, checking the oven briefly before straightening back up. "But enough about me. How are you two?" she asked, nodding subtly towards Joel in the living room with Tommy and now Eugene.

"Better. Much better. We had a good talk after we got back, and I think we're on the same page," you said, glancing around the room at the others, making sure they were out of earshot.

"What page is that, exactly?" she pushed with a smirk.

"He's okay with not getting married or having kids," you replied with a noncommittal shrug. She narrowed her eyes at you and you frowned. "What?"

"Is that what you really want, though?"

"Well," you said, glancing around once again before lowering your voice. "I've come around to the whole marriage thing, but I don't really know how to tell him. I feel like I keep jerking him around and I don't know what to do."

"You need to be honest with him," she said immediately, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I just made this huge fuss -"

"It doesn't matter. This is your life, you have to do what's right. He might be confused at first but you know he will be so fucking ecstatic he will forget all about it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," you said, glancing over your shoulder to watch him laugh with Tommy, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "I just need to figure out how to tell him."

"And kids?" she asked, causing you to whip your head back around.

"I'm not there yet. But maybe one day," you finally admitted, making her squeal out with excitement and causing the rest of the guests to look your way.

"Sorry! The chicken just came out perfectly!" Maria said with a giggle. You laughed with her as you locked eyes with Joel and he raised a curious eyebrow at you. You shrugged and gave him a quick smile before turning back to Maria.

"Alright, enough of that. What can I do to help?"

"You sure you ain't in any pain? Maybe you should take somethin' before bed," Joel said as he watched you wince when you leaned over to take your heels off.

"I'm okay, I promise. It's the damn shoes," you explained, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing your calf. "Was I this annoying when you were hurt?"

"Worse," he said with a grin before sitting down next to you and taking your legs over his lap, his own fingers taking over, rubbing the sore muscles and doing a far better job.

"Thank you," you said breathily as you closed your eyes and leaned forward so your head was resting on his shoulder. You sat in silence for a moment, his strong hands digging into your calves, content to be in your shared home with Ellie safe and sound, right down the hall.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"Something's different," you said softly, your eyes still closed.

"What'dya mean?" he murmured, his lips pressed against the top of your head.

"I feel... safe," you said, opening your eyes a bit and staring at the wall across from your bed, his fingers still working your legs.

"That's good, baby," he whispered.

"No, I mean..." you paused, searching for the words, not sure how to say it. "I mean I'm not scared anymore."

His fingers paused as he absorbed your words, trying to figure out what you were saying.

"That's... good," he repeated, not quite understanding. You sighed and tilted your face up to look at him, your arm stretching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss. Another time, you thought. You'll figure out how to explain it another time.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, your fingers raking through his hair as the hand that was once on your calf slowly migrated up past your knee and to your thigh. Greedily, you nipped at his bottom lip and leaned backwards so you were flat on the bed, Joel partially on top of you while your lips moved faster, leaving quick, desperate kisses against his mouth.

"Hang on," he whispered, but you kept going, your heart slamming in your chest. Now that you felt him on top of you again, it was sparking a fire between your legs.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked jokingly, pulling back a bit and pinning your wrists into the mattress, your chest heaving.

"Please, Joel," you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

"C'mon, you know you ain't ready yet. You're still healing," he mumbled sweetly, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

"I am ready," you promised, but he just shook his head.

"We got a big day tomorrow," he whispered in your ear before sitting up, his weight no longer pressing against your upper half. "Let's just go to bed."

You pouted as you sat up next to him and he grinned.

"Ain't gonna work on me, sweetheart."

Then, an idea occurred to you. You shrugged and stood up, walking towards the bathroom as you slowly unzipped your dress, letting it pool at your feet only when you were in the safety of the small room. You turned around, hand on the door, only wearing your underwear as you took in Joel's slack jawed expression, his eyes slowly raking up and down your nearly naked frame.

"I'm gonna shower," you said quietly, his eyes still glued to your body. "You wanna join me?"

You could see the conflict in his face, trying so desperately to hold back and keep a clear head.

Finally, he forced himself to shake his head. You pouted again then shut the door, but not before sliding your underwear down your legs first, giving him a little show.

The water had barely gotten warm enough to step under the stream when he ripped open the shower curtain and stepped into the tub. You looked at him and smirked.

"I thought you said -"

He silenced you with his mouth covering yours, pushing you up against the cool tile while his knee slotted between your legs and his hand slowly drifted down your stomach. You gasped and smiled against his mouth when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed him.

"You need me that bad, huh?" he murmured against your mouth, and you nodded.

"Yes," you whined, arching your back off the wall, your wet body pressing up against his as his fingers dipped inside you and dragged them back out, smearing a mix of your arousal and water expertly over your clit.

"Can't be too loud, now," he reminded you, swallowing your breathless moans as his fingers circled faster. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding on tightly as he brought you to the edge way too quickly, months of not being touched by him finally coming to a head.

"Joel," you whispered, burying your face into his neck as you felt the muscles in your stomach tense. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you up just in time. Your legs went lax, your arms and Joel the only thing keeping you upright as you felt the coil in your belly snap, your sounds muffled against his skin and the water beating down around you.

"Better?" he asked when you finally found the strength to hold yourself back up. You nodded, your eyelids drooping, but you still slid your hand down his stomach. Right as you were about to wrap your fingers around him, he stopped you.

"Not tonight," he said, and you frowned. "It's late. We gotta get to bed."

If you weren't so exhausted, you would have put up a bigger fight. You leaned into him as he gently massaged shampoo into your hair, your eyes closed, blindly letting him direct you under the water to rinse before he got started on your body, his strong hands spreading the soap over your skin in circles.

He helped you get out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel as he dried your hair, his own body dripping water all over the floor. You lazily watched him work, a slow smile creeping across your face. He noticed and raised an eyebrow at you.

"I like it when you take care of me," you explained, and you swore you saw a little bit of pink dust his cheeks. He led you to bed, tucking the cool sheets around you as he brushed your damp hair away from your eyes. "Want you to take care of me forever," you mumbled as your eyes slid shut. He smiled, then his hand froze as his lips pursed in thought.

I feel safe.

I'm not scared anymore.

He finally understood what you were trying to tell him, and his heart began to flutter excitedly in his chest.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarahhxx03 @oscarissac2099 @motherjoel @silas-222 @b3l1nd5 @rocket-raccoon-silvie @missladym1981 @angie2274 @maried01 @ashleyfilm @alltheotps @mybworlds

[nev3rfound]

anyone but you : b.b

you were Bucky's pocket of sunshine, his sweet girl outside of the avengers. a slice of normality in his less-than lifestyle, but what happens when you're pulled into it in the worst way? (2.6k)

we've got ourselves a good'un today angels, and you have @imagine-all-the-fandoms for the brill idea :)

warnings - graphic descriptions of torture and wounds. (but fluffy ending)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

“Mmh, okay. So, our options- wait stop laughing at me!” Throwing the menus in his direction, Bucky stifles the rest of his laugh by trying to play it off as a cough.

Shaking his head, Bucky picks up the menus that had been promptly thrown at him. "I'm not laughing at you doll." Bucky reasons, moving across the sofa to now kneel in front of the coffee table where you're perching opposite him looking through your phone for alternatives.

"Sure sounds like it to me." You chide, glancing up with a mischievous glint in your eyes, one Bucky can't help but get lost in, completely missing the words sounding from your lips. Clicking your fingers in front of him, Bucky snaps from the depths of his mind.

"What did you say?" Bucky asks, only elated as your grin widens into a playful smile. "Right, dinner!" Bucky slaps his hand down on his thigh before rising to his feet and dramatically clasps one hand over his eyes. "How 'bout we do the random selector, huh?"

Chuckling to yourself, you nod along before rising to your feet. "Let's do it, Barnes."

Covering your eyes as well, the pair of you reach down and clutch a menu in your grasp and open your eyes. "I got Chinese!" You announce, and Bucky grunts in disappointment as he holds up the leaflet loosely.

"I got the shitty pizza place a few blocks away." He groans, watching you cheer victoriously. "You won this time, Y/n." He rushes over to your side of the table, wrapping his arms around your waist before lifting you up, hearing you squeal before dropping the menu. "But I'll win next time, mark my words."

With your arms around his neck, Bucky dips you lowly with a smirk. "That so, Barnes?" You tease, leaning closer to his face. "We'll see." You add, closing the distance between you both with a sweet quick kiss. "Now come on, I'm starving!"

*

"Thirty minutes til we land, guys." Natasha announces from the front of the jet.

Unable to keep his knee from bouncing once the announcement was made, Bucky cannot stop his thoughts from returning to you. It had been a longer mission than anticipated with little to no contact with the outside world. He's so used to sending a text, a quick call to just hear your voice and know you're okay whether it be doing a mundane task or listening to you moan about a colleague.

That's one of the things Bucky loves about you; the normalcy of it all. You couldn't be more of a polar opposite to the former soldier, with a 9-5, a pension scheme, and health benefits included. Whereas he just gets thrown into the unknown more than he cares to admit and comes out slightly more traumatized with each mission.

Noting the nervous actions of his friend, Steve nudges Bucky's arm. "You got plans with Y/n once we get back?" Steve asks, knowing it'll help pass the remaining time until they land.

Within seconds the tension melts from Bucky's body and even Sam catches the barely there smile on the soldier's face.

"Going to this movie theatre she loves, it's kinda run down but she likes to call it 'old school.'" He quotes, picturing the first time you dragged him along to the theatre. "And well, I've got something planned for her, but I don't know." Bucky trails off, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Well, sounds great to me, Buck." Steve comments, moving slightly closer, and lowers his head in an attempt to keep the overs from interrupting. "So, you ever gonna bring her to the compound?"

Bucky sighs deeply and Steve backs up, knowing it's useless to even pry further into it.

"It's just so good, Steve." Bucky starts, glancing around at those around him, some looking through reports and others dozing off. "I don't want her to get enveloped in this side of our life." He explains and Steve simply nods. "I love what we have, and, and I don't wanna risk ruining that."

"Understood." Steve pats Bucky's arm. "She really brings out the best in you, you know?"

"Yeah, he's been notably less grumpy since they got together." Sam comments from the other side of the jet, receiving a brief glare from Bucky. "Less grumpy, Barnes. You're no ray of sunshine yet."

The rest of the flight sped by whilst Bucky remained deep in his thoughts which mostly circled around you. He was jolted from his memories once the jet landed and they all began to disembark.

As the team began to walk through the compound, Bucky quickly got his phone out to send you a message. But before he could even start to type one, a series of urgent texts flash up on his screen.

"Bucky?" Steve calls out to his friend who is almost frozen in place, staring down at his phone with panic written across his expression. "Buck?" Walking toward his friend, he looks down at Bucky's phone and feels his heart drop at what he's reading.

With a shaky hand, Bucky forces his head up to meet Steve's eyes. "Steve, I," He can barely form the right words, unsure what to even say. "This, this can't happen." His mind shifts to denial, but upon hearing his name being called urgently up ahead by Tony and Bruce he can feel his whole world crashing down on him.

*

The first sensation that came back was your smell. In hindsight, you wish it wasn't and that you could've remained senseless, but you weren't so lucky.

It smelt like metal, smoke, and sweat. Little did you know, that was all coming from you.

Your eyesight followed suit and quickly alerted your captures with delight that you were conscious at last. "Help!" You cry out, now noticing your arms shackled to a wall in a dank-looking cell. "Please, help me!" Within seconds the screams tear at your throat, scratching it raw as laughter enters your ears.

Through the shadows, a large figure emerges holding up an old school camcorder whilst he grimaces at you, eyes roaming over the wounds inflicted. "Bout time you woke up darling." The man snarls, moving closer into your enclosed space. "Wanna say hi to your friends?" Forcing the camera to your face, you're quick to turn your head away, only to feel a sweaty hand clench your jaw and force you to look directly into the lens as tears glisten in your eyes. "You know what to do if you want her back." The man comments, further confusing you about the situation before he reveals a small knife in his grasp.

"No, please," You plead, shaking your head at the sight of the knife rising before plowing it down into your thigh.

The last thing Bucky sees is your face contorted in pain, the movement of your lips as you scream in anguish. But all of the sounds have become white noise.

"Do we know who sent this?" Steve is the first to ask, noting Bucky standing too still for his own liking.

Raising his hand, Bruce swipes across and reveals three headshots of so-called reformed criminals. "Jason Donahough, Mark Whitehall, and Edward Polaski." Bruce points to each, pausing at the sound of Bucky's metal arm whirring, the plates sliding as he clenches both fists at the images.

"I know them." Bucky states through gritted teeth.

"A message was delivered with the video, we're trying to locate the source with the help of FRIDAY." Tony explains, revealing the two simple sentences.

Come get your girl, Winter Soldier. It's time to resume the game.

A shudder spreads through Bucky at the second sentence. They still remember what he did, and clearly aren't messing around this time.

"I have to go." Bucky tells himself, too in his own head to notice several pairs of eyes fall on him in alarm.

"Bucky, that's," Steve starts, but Bucky is already walking out the door before he can finish his sentence. "We gotta go, who's in?"

Almost every hand shoots up and Steve nods, everyone starts to file out, knowing what needs to be done.

*

They came in abruptly, knocking the chains on your ankles to alert you of their presence. Mostly they just wanted to taunt you, sometimes they'd spare you the pain of reminding you that you were alone and no one would come for you. But more often than not, they'd add to your growing list of injuries, conflicting another wound to your skin as more blood stains the tiles.

No one answers the questions you ask when conscious enough to form words. 'Where am I?' 'How long have I been here?' and the one that scares you most of all, 'Why me?'

"You think he'll come?" Your ears perk up at the question, and you force your heavy head up an inch to see two of your attackers conversing outside of your cell.

One of them is holding a phone tightly in his grasp, chewing on his lip at the question. "For her? Hopefully." He scoffs before looking back at you, noticing the corners of your lips rising weakly. "What're you smiling at, bitch?" His voice rises before he marches over to you, grabs a hold of your face with one hand, and stares you dead in the eyes. "Somethin' you wanna say?" He demands, eyes widening awaiting a response.

Instead, you spit in his face, watching him recoil in disgust.

"You'll pay for that," He states, reaching into his pocket for something whilst your eyes grow heavy once again, unaware of a red light flickering through the base and alarms blaring.

The two men exchange a look, one you're oblivious to when your head slumps back down to rest against your chest.

"Showtime." One of the men laughs, clapping his hands before they both exit the cell, leaving your weak body alone-something you can be silently thankful for.

"Bucky," His name passes from your lips before your eyes drop once more.

Leading the mission, Bucky refuses to trail from the plan. Sometimes, he'll swerve from the set motions, but when it comes to you, nothing is to be changed or come as a surprise.

Continuing through the dank corridors, Bucky keeps his gun aimed in front of him whilst Steve and Natasha follow behind. So far Bucky has not left a single guard standing, and some without breath.

"You think this is it?" Natasha questions, looking at a series of locked doors, each with a number printed above and the red light flashing.

Bucky remains silent, trying to zone out from the murmurs behind him. His eyes continuously scan over the doors, he homes in on the furthest down the corridor, noting the light flashing white instead of red.

"There." Bucky speaks up, picking up pace toward the door only to be surprised by three guards who start shooting.

Wasting no time, Bucky tears the three down with ease. He ignores their screams whilst he shoots and punches his way through them.

Breathing deeply, Bucky leans forward to see a series of buttons to unlock the door. "Got any idea-" Steve starts, only to be met with Bucky smashing his metal fist into the panel, causing the door to open.

Adjusting their eyes to the dimly lit room, the trio enter apprehensively.

Scanning the room, Bucky's breath catches in his throat at the frail figure in the corner of the room. "Y/n?" His voice croaks, wasting no time to rush to your side, delicately lifting your head up to his lap. Eyeing over your various injuries, Bucky shakes his head and nestles your cheek with his hand. "What've they done to you?"

"Buck, we've got to get her out, now." Steve places his hand on his friend's shoulder, watching his oldest friend help you up and break the chains keeping you cemented in place. "Nat's clearing our exit, we don't have long."

Upon picking you up, Bucky freezes at your loud cry. "I'm sorry, doll, I'm so sorry." He repeatedly mumbles into your neck as he cradles your body in his arms all too aware of you dipping in and out of consciousness.

Much to their surprise, their exit is easier than anticipated. With you lying limp in Bucky's arms breathing heartlessly, Nat starts the jet up.

"It was all just to prove a point." Bucky states quietly, an oxygen mask now covering your nose and mouth. "just to show they could still get back at me, after all this time." His fists begin to clench on the edge of the seat, something Steve quickly picks up on as he moves to sit beside the pair of you.

Looking down at you in daylight, Steve could feel his heart clench in his chest. From what he saw of you briefly in photographs, you were shell of the woman you were physically, let alone mentally when you eventually come to.

"She's safe now, Buck." Steve reminds Bucky, feeling a sense of hope wash over the jet at your eyes open.

"Buck?" You croak, trying to lift your hand up, only for it to be held tightly by Buckys. "You, you found me." Tears start to build in your eyes upon seeing his, only for them to quickly refill with black spots.

"Of course, I'll always find you." Bucky whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead as a tear glides across your skin.

two months later

"Okay, okay!" Bucky chuckles heartfully, clutching the menu in his grasp above his head whilst you pout up at him. "Just say sorry and it's yours, doll."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you lightly sigh. "Come on, that's not fair. Steve will agree with me on this, right, Steve?" Glancing over your shoulder, Steve doesn't move a muscle from the armchair situated in the compound living area. "Steve?" Waving your hand, you reach for a cushion to throw at him, only for it to be deflected at the last second.

"I think you've got a slight advantage here, Buck." Steve chimes in, much to Bucky's playful dismay.

Lowering his arms back down, Bucky kneels in front of you with the menu in hand. "Here you go, doll." He winks, watching you snatch it from his grasp before wheeling backward toward the coffee table.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Barnes." You salute, reaching across for your crutch to ease you out of the wheelchair.

Upon hearing a quiet wince, Bucky's gaze falls upon you, and starts to walk in your direction to assist. "She's got this." Natasha pipes up, now entering the room to see what all the commotion was.

"Thanks, Nat." You smile, now using the crutch you reach for your phone, revealing the scarring on your forearm which sometimes hurts to see.

With a quick tug, you pull on the sleeve of Bucky's henley you've stolen before dialing for the takeaway and leaving the room.

Now left alone with two old friends, Bucky can practically hear their questions protruding. "She's just taking things a day at a time." Bucky explains, burying his head in his hands at the memories of the past few months.

"I mean, I haven't heard her laugh like this since before," He trails off, not wishing to finish the sentence as images of blood, your screams, and pleads replay.

"It's alright," Natasha comments with a soft smile. "She's tougher than she looks, for a civilian that is." She adds.

"Who're you callin' a civilian?" You speak up, feigning shock at Natasha's remark. "I happen to be a very special person." You add, slowly making your way toward Bucky.

Smiling at the interaction, Steve dares to ask. "And what makes you special, huh, Y/n?" He plays along, thankful to see Bucky's smile growing as you reach him, wrapping your free arm around his middle.

"'Cause this guy gets to date me." You state with a smug grin, feeling Bucky kiss your temple with a smile on his lips. "Nothing more special than that, right?" Looking up at Bucky, his smile only widens as the sparkle in your eye flashes for a moment, slowly making its return.

"Yeah, doll." Bucky tells you. "Luckiest guy around."

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