#not why i hired them but it does always feel like being shot through a pit crew when they fix me up

[cowvboyenema]

you would never understand the warriors bond between a man and the person hired specifically to clean him up while hes dizzy and disoriented

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

I just love your Mob turtles and their headcanons! I was wondering how each turtle would act with a medic crush. Maybe someone that works for the Mob as a lower leveled nurse that catches their eye after they need to be treated by them. How would they meet again? Who would move their crushes position up in the Mob to get closer? And who would just bash their head in again to see their crush to get treated? Love the headcanons your write and keep up the amazing work! ✨

This is really interesting, thank you for this!

DISCLAIMER!!! Because they're all evil pieces of shit, this will not be cute. it's gonna be scary and abusive (esp Donnie's one) so viewer discretion is advised

Mob! Leo

you first treat him for a stab wound, it was a bad night at one of his clubs. Some guy got too handsy with one of the dancers, Leo intervened, the guy smashed a bottle....

he got stabbed just beneath the ribs, although the other guy was put in a medically induced coma when Leo was done with him sooo... A small stab was nothing by comparison

He's sat, slumped down, in the doorway of the living room, enter: you

his body guards (as useless as they normally are) called you straight away. the pay is pretty damn good if you say so yourself, being on the mob boys retainer has its perks.

you're got your kit with you, all your medical supplies.

"sir" you start "We need to head to the kitchen, I need a flat surface to examine you" you were polite, but clear.

Leo stands without so much as a grunt even though it's got to hurt

lies down on the kitchen table

you talk him through every step you need to take, starting with "I'm going to need to cut the shirt off, I'm sorry"

he doesn't care, it's ruined anyway

when you're done, he's surprised "I didn't even feel the stitches"

"I have a gentle touch" you wink and then instantly regret winking at your boss, it shows because you're blushing

he smiles too. 'He's got such a handsome face' you think and then you can't make eye contact

you almost shove the painkillers at him in your efforts to leave

the next time there's an incident, it's your day off, but he asked for you specifically and you can't exactly say no...

after that, it's you every time and the "incidents" are getting more frequent and less severe

you're at the house almost every 2 days

it gets to the point where a band-aid would suffice for the injury

but he's started sending you home with gifts, now

fancy chocolates, a bottle of wine, gift cards to high end shops ect

it's getting obvious why it's always you he calls

until, one night, it all comes to a head

he accidentally sliced his finger cooking and it will need stitches, but there are 2 place settings at the table and he asks you to stay for dinner after you patch him up

a hour in, and a little wine drunk, you blurt out "You know you could've just asked me out, there was no need to maim yourself to get my attention" you instantly regret this

he just chuckles

"Wish you'd told me sooner, I was deciding which one of my fingers I needed the least"

Mob! Raph

Oh he's so accident prone

will never admit it, but he really is

you're one of his newest hires and were excited at the chance to get some hands on experience since leaving med school

boy does he give you some

his first call is because he was shot right in the thigh

it almost hit a major artery

even you were panicked

you kept asking "is this ok? It doesn't hurt too much right?"

but he had to to keep face and even when he'd wince he'd command "Keep going!"

you weren't exactly dressed for the occasion, you were wearing what was once a baby blue crop top (now red) and and shorts and your mid-drift was showing

Raph seemed to notice this a lot

and when the bleeding had stopped you'd got him stitched up, he put an arm around your waist and told you how great of a job you did

it got you a little flustered

eventually, at some team meeting (you did not know there would be team meetings and neither did the other medics but Raph treated this like it's always happened) he announces you as head medic

this comes with more pay, but more responsibility

you're on call 24/7 basically

you get his personal phone number and a "don't be araif to call if you need anything, the phone works both ways"

this kind of earns you the cold shoulder from Donatello who was usually the one who fixed up Raph

everything was going great as was pretty professional until-

one night the phone rings, it's Raph, and he's clearly drunk

words slurring, talking real slow and basically humming down the line

he asks you to come over and if you "have a nurses outfit"

you ask who's hurt

"It's me, I'm so *fake cough* ill... I could use a little TLC..."

you're a medic, not a call girl so you hang up

the next time you see him he's a weird mix or embarrassed and pissed off

like he knows he shouldn't have done it but he's angry you wouldn't fuck him

it's one of his guys who's been beat up, needs a few eyebrow stitches

Raph is too close, really in your personal space as you're trying to work

when you're done he walks you to the door and, through gritted teeth, says "I'm glad my little.... Indiscretion the other night hasn't made you unprofessional"

"That's a weird way of saying sorry" you reply in the sweetest tone you can muster

he glares

"...I'm....I'm sorry"

you smile until he pulls you in by the wrist

"Don't get cocky now!" he hisses "Remember who pays your bills"

you lean in and whisper "It's funny that you asked, because I do have a nurse outfit. Only men who respect me and my boundaries get to see it" you say that last part more forcefully as you pull away from his grip

after that it's a pretty clear game of cat and mouse between you two

Mob! Mikey

It's been crystal clear since day 1 that he wants you

stroking your hair while you're trying to assess him, rubbing up close to you, giving you pay rise after pay rise...

you try not to be alone with him

but one day, and you're surprised because it's only like 1pm, you get a call

Mikey had a chunk bitten out of his neck and needs urgent attention

you're pretty used to all the weird and wonderful injuries he acquires and when you're done seeing to him, you realise it's now only you two in the room

he gets up and clicks his neck

"That's one thing I love about you, you know" he had a habit of starting sentences like you'd been talking this entire time even when you hadn't "You don't ask questions. It's a lovely quality in a girl" the space between you is getting smaller

"it's not my job to ask questions" you say timidly

he's closing in still "I like that attitude"

your back is to a set of drawers now

he's right in front of you

I think the lidocaine is wearing off, this is starting to hurt" he gestures at his neck "Can you kiss it better?"

your heart is racing and you're not sure if it's because this is threatening or because he's shirtless and you haven't taken you eyes off his abs for too long now

He laughs and puts his hands up

"Hey, just joking!" he begins to back away

you turn to leave and right as you grab the door handle he calls

"But, sweetheart, you ever feel like having a crazy night. You know who to call, no strings attached" and winks

after that, and extra 2k is put in your account under the reference "for your discretion"

lingerie is sent to your apartment as well as flowers

the next time you need to go see him, he asks if you're wearing it

you blush and look away, he just grins at you

eventually he throws a huge party that you're invited to, he never leaves your side

you drink a little too much to cope with the circumstance and before you know it you wake up from a black out in the back of his car just as it pulls up to your apartment

he walks you in, you're still unsteady on your feet, and kisses you at the door

"angel, you should be more careful" he does not elaborate before leaving

you hand in your notice which is only mailed back to you with "nice try" written on it

Mikey always gets his way, one way or another

Mob! Donnie

He's a very hot and cold man

he'll smile and talk to you one day, then you don't exist the next

you can't get a feel for him at all

he's never been inappropriate or rude just... cold and distant

it's normally you he calls, you know this because the other medics are pissed off that they don't have an "in" with him

you did ask why, once

he just said you give the neatest stitches

it had been a while since you'd seen him

his brothers and he just had a big court case so they were laying pretty low

it had been nice, something about him made you feel things

a mix of unsettled and like you had to prove yourself as worthy

you needed a drink

hat night you come home, your phone died at the bar and you're a little tipsy

only to find your door broken in

you walk in

was that a wise move? no.

waiting inside, leaning against a doorway, is Donnie

you can smell blood but can;t see it in the half light

the he grabs you

you freeze, his arms are around you and his face is in your hair, gently smelling it

something trickles onto your face and you wipe it away to find it's blood

"If- if you're hurt... J-just let me grab my supplies"

he lets go

you turn on every light you pass, something about being in the dark with him just isn't right

when you come back he's gone

the next time he needs you, you do get a call

he got into a fight with Mikey, bottled straight over the head

you found out because Raph is still laughing about it when you get there

Donnie is seething

when his brothers leave, all of them including Donnie a little drunk, he pushes you against a wall and gets in close

you can feel his breath on your neck

"You know, Mikey hired on of those topless maids last week. Cleaned his car, tits fully out. How much would it cost me for you to take this off" he pings your bra strap

you're so insulted

he was a man of medicine too and he was treating you like you're something who can be bought

as if he reads your mind he says "Everyone has a price"

"I don't know" you try to sound less scared than you are, let the anger shine through "how much does a new set of balls cost? Because if you don't back off you're gonna need them"

he laughs harshly

then his hand is around your throat

"Was that a threat?"

his thumb strokes your cheek

he leans in, his nose pressed against yours "I like a woman with guts but, if you're not very careful, I'll take them out and keep them in a jar"

"Was that a threat?" you retort

"No, I'm flirting with you"

sooner or later, you know he'll have you

Him and his brothers aren't the type to back down from anything

so the next time you treat him, when he pulls you onto his lap, you kiss him, make it your choice to go through with it

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fix You Part 4/10

+18

Part 5 and 6 are out on my Patreon!

Summary - Reader is hired as Ruben's assistant nurse after receiving head trauma during a football game. He has fallen into a deep depression on his road to recovery and does not accept much help from Reader as she only reminds him of how incapable he is.

Enjoy!

He should have never given you a day off, Ruben thought. You had been gone for hours, without telling anyone where you went. Ruben woke up that morning to an empty apartment. Okay, Max was there but he was an early riser and always went out for a morning run. You, on the other hand, wasn't an early riser. You'd wake up around the same time Ruben did. He would listen to your footsteps puttering around the kitchen while he lay in bed. By the time you knocked on his door to give him his shot, Ruben had been awake for hours, thinking about you and how he would do anything to feel your hands against his face again.

"Do you think she's gone missing?" Ruben asked Max.

"I thought she said that she had an audition this afternoon?"

"A what?"

"An audition. She's an actress, you know? A really good one too."

"Y/N, an actress?" Ruben found it very laughable. Actors and actresses possessed the skill of lying to the world. That night, looking into your eyes as you held his face, Ruben saw nothing but the truth in them. The truth that you were indeed the most breathtaking woman he had ever seen.

"Yeah, apparently she's studied at one of the best acting schools in London."

"Oh, yeah? Then how come I haven't seen her in any movies?"

It was a slow day in the park. However, Max refused to bring out the tennis balls. Despite the surgery, it was obvious that Ruben's conditions had yet improved. He feared that it was getting worse. And with that thought his creeping depression would return to him with the thoughts of never playing football again. That, and the fact that going blind forever meant never seeing your eyes again.

"I dunno, she said something about the movie industry being misogynistic and unfair to women." Max explained.

Ruben snorted. "Sounds like excuses to me."

He was an asshole at heart. Ruben knew that. But you didn't, or at least pretended not to notice. It's the reason why he hired you. You had an attitude like no other, an attitude that was reflected in your snapping tongue. Whatever Ruben put you through, no matter the insult, you always looked at him the same. Not with pity like his mother. You looked at Ruben as if you could see right through him. See through the pain in his heart and the many many failed attempts to better himself. You gave him the illusion that he might be good enough for you. However, the whole world knew that he wasn't. Not with his broken mind.

The sun had gone down by the time you got back to the apartment. Ruben and Max returned from the park hours ago. You had missed dinner and Ruben didn't like that. Did you have dinner somewhere else? With someone else? If that was the case, the two of you really needed to talk.

"Ruben?"

It was right on cue that you knocked on his door. You had made it a habit to check on him before you retreated to your own room. Ruben would never admit it, but this was the favorite part of his day.

"Come in." He said, sitting up in bed. He perked up even more seeing you appear in the doorway, your face painted with makeup, wearing a tight black dress that hugged your shape in ways that struck his sinful imagination. No bandages covered his eyes during these hours and luckily you wore a coat over your naked shoulders, preventing Ruben from completely losing his mind at the sight of you.

"Hey, I just wanted to check on you." You said.

"Well, like all the other nights you've checked on me, I'm still alive."

His cheesy comment made your smile fade. Good job Ruben, he thought. Even in the dark he could see your distaste for him.

"I mean, do you need anything before I go to bed?" 

"No."

"Oh, okay."

You lingered in the door frame, perhaps feeling forced to make small talk. "Max told me that you guys went to the park today, did you have a nice time?"

"Yes."

"Good."

An awkward silence followed. If you would only step a little closer to the bed so that he could see you clearly. Ruben's vision got a bit blurry where you stood, since his eyes still needed time to adjust, even to the dark.

"Did Max let you exercise again?" You asked.

Ruben snorted. "No." 

"I'm sorry about that."

Perhaps you felt guilty ever since his little fumble in the park, where Ruben's heart topped the average rate. Max refused anymore advanced brain exercises after that. The reason for Ruben's newfound restlessness. Nevertheless, he didn't blame it on you.

"It's not your fault." Ruben said, looking at his hands. "We'll start again in time."

You nodded. "You will get better in time, Ruben, your doctor said so himself."

You had started taking him to his weekly appointments. Although you were much better company than Ruben's mother, he didn't like the look of pity that you gave him as the doctors would pin all those needles in him to run their many many tests. You would never see him for the man he really was, a football player.

"Where were you?" Ruben asked, pleased to change the subject.

"Erm...out." 

"Out with who?"

Your arms folded. "Why do you assume I was out with someone?"

"You were out alone?"

"Yes, yes I was. Believe it or not."

"Why were you dressed like that?"

You looked down on your dress. The light from the hallway reflected off of the little specks of glitter, putting dots on Ruben's walls, making it look like little stars roamed above their heads.

"What's wrong with the way I dress?" You frowned.

"Nothing." He shrugged. "It just looks like you were going on a date or something."

"And if I were?"

"What?"

Ruben's reaction made you smile. "Yeah, if I did in fact go on a date, what's it to?"

"I don't....." 

He choked on his words and you laughed.

"Relax Ruben. I'm only dressed like this because the audition I went to required it."

Of course, he thought. Max told him about your acting pursuit, although he still doubted that you were a good one. However, Ruben was curious. "How did it go?"

"Shit." You sighed and to his surprise stepped into the room. "The directors wanted me to run lines in a scouse accent. Like, who even knows how to do that?"

Ruben laughed. He thought about the many times he had been scolded by the Liverpool fans. He never managed to understand a word of what they were saying to him. He doubted anyone knew what they were saying, not even themselves.

"All I'm saying is thank God for this job, otherwise I'd probably be on the street begging for leftovers."

"I'm sure you'll get your breakthrough." He said and really meant it. If it wasn't in your heart to work for him it could turn ugly very quickly.

"I dunno?" You sighed and to Ruben's surprise, felt comfortable enough to take a seat on his bed.

His legs stirred under the covers to distract him from the blood rushing to parts of his body that he really didn't want to come alive right now. Luckily, the room was dark and you sat on the foot of his bed. Nevertheless, your silhouette was enough to send him off. You were beautiful beyond the light, and if he was ever given the pleasure to touch you one day, he'd forsure make it memorable.

"Ruben?"

Fuck, he thought. You must have caught him staring.

"Yes?" He replied, cupping his groin under the covers.

"I want you to be honest with me."

Fuck.

"Before I go to bed...."

Yeah, he's done.

"Of course." He said, clearing his throat.

"Do you need my help getting to the toilet?"

"Pardon?"

You avoided his eyes out of cheer embarrassment. "You know...." You said. "To help you pee?"

If only God did drive-by's. "No, Y/N." He sighed. "I'm good to go on my own if I have to."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. It's my body, isn't it?"

"I'm just saying. Last time..."

"Last time was a first."

"Right." There was a hint of a smile on your face. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Ruben's heart sank, seeing you leave his bedside. "Y/N?" He exclaimed, stopping you at the door. 

You turned around, eyebrows raised. 

"Erm...you look beautiful."

Your face lit up. "Thank you."

"Yeah, um....goodnight, I guess." Ruben was quite desperate for you to leave.

"Goodnight Ruben."

He fell onto his back once the door shut. And an odd surprise awaited him as he slid a hand down his sweatpants. Ruben had been told that parts of his body could remain permanently affected by his injuries. Like the next man he wondered if that meant his abilities to perform in other places than just the football pitch, and unfortunately the answer was, yes. Like the next man Ruben had tried watching porn in all kinds of outrageous themes. However, nothing had done it for him. But now here he lay, with a full fledged erection and one person on his mind. 

As he began stroking himself, Ruben thought of stripping you of that dress of yours, touching you in ways that would pleasure you to a point of rapture. Oh how he would love to rip you apart, to hear you moan his name.

"Fuck."

As much as he wanted to make the moment last, Ruben was too horny to maintain a steady pace. He stroked his dick like his life depended on it. As if his mother could burst into his room at any minute.

"Shit...." 

Ruben ground, succumbing to his own temptations. He felt pathetic afterwards. Like an animal unable to control his urges. Nevertheless, he made a promise that the next time he came, it would be inside of you.

Part 5 and 6 are out on my Patreon!

[jacksprostate]

Bob in female fight club au. Thoughts

Probably named Marge

Rather than doing a direct inversion (ie making the character the exact opposite, much tits -> no tits, etc) I think sort of an analogue would work better riffing off the motherly role Bob has, in combination with the group being for uterine cancer/ovarian cancer

The women come together, and they cry, cry, cry, over lost husbands, who left them because they got cancer, because overwhelmingly, men leave if their wife gets cancer, over lost relationships with children, who stayed but resent them, over lost Motherhood, that thing you were told was your worth but now you are told you're shit. Remaining Women Together. Despite. Despite despite despite.

What is it, about purposes. Want to see misery, see women fed their own physical oppression as lost salvation.

Marge, whatever her name is, her husband divorced her, left her with the kids and medical bills stacked as high as she is tall. She is thankful she still has her kids, it makes her feel like she's still worth something. She's had to try and get back into the workforce. No one wants to hire dear former stay at home mother Marge. She shows you her kids in her wallet in her purse and there are no pictures of her. There's a picture of her old husband, which she keeps to show her kids if they ask. They're old enough to go to school now, which is good, because it gives her more time to work. Life is hard, but she's doing her best.

Marge, who is on hormone therapy so she doesn't get those "side effects" she's heard about from other total hysterectomy patients, the future of early dementia and degeneration and horror. Who does pelvic floor exercises in hopes it will minimise the fallout of the surgery. Who carefully rips every hair out of her upper lip and chin because even if it would be normal for a woman, a woman whose gone through menopause, a woman at all — she knows, it's probably the estrogen tipping back over into testosterone, and she can't handle any more losses. She compensates. They all do.

The support group is her Me Time. It is the single hour plus half hour commute she can afford once a week for herself. So she gets here, and she cries, cries, cries, and the others cry with her, all over how their lives have fallen apart since they got ovarian cancer, got breast cancer, and their lives derailed because they can't be proper women anymore.

They cry in their waterproof makeup. Another product to promise womanhood. Identify yourself via consumption. Identify yourself by covering yourself up.

And when she finds fight club. When she finds something that says, jesus fuck. You are more than your children. You are more than your ability to have kids. You aren't a failed woman, that's a sack of shit you've been sold wholesale. When she finds something that promises her she will grow, achieve personhood, not because she was the ultimate martyr mother, not because she played the game of human or woman, but because it promises a freedom from all that, identification and repulsion of such sickening chains. When she stops worrying about her slightly deepened voice, and works to keep her dose even keel for her health, to avoid the toxic highs of accidentally juicing, rather than the lesser effects of a black lip hair or two. When she has a photo, not of herself in her wallet, but of the things she makes with other women from fight club, of the one view of the sunset from that one parking lot that she always thought was wonderful, when she has things in her wallet for her and her enjoyment. When she has corded muscle and a built up spine, when she sits her kids down and explains why they only see dad one weekend every other month, all the fun holidays, because dad decided staying with her through cancer was too hard even when she stayed with him through four lost jobs pissed away in alcohol and lottery tickets.

And Marge, who gets shot by the police on a regulation chill-and-drill assignment for Project Mayhem. Whose obituary in the newspaper talks about the children she left behind, how she battled cancer and kept caring for them, how she was such a strong mother, whose kids would now be shipped off to their grieving father who is so, so brave and stunning for standing up and taking care of the kids he made and dropped as soon as his live-in servant had a few issues. Her name is Marge Paulson, and she was forty-eight years old. She was a person. She will be remembered in the annals of Project Mayhem, lest what little there was of her be stolen from the world. She was killed by Project Mayhem, but they're the only ones who will remember Marge Paulson.

[all-pacas]

i know i've talked about it before but god. when house and chase are alone together their vibe is just.

chase is usually deeply and pretty happily subservient to house. he's the boss/mentor, chase is the underling. where cameron and foreman both push to be house's equal, chase really never does: he's happy to follow along. but then you get them alone. every now and then chase just strolls in and reveals he can see through house perfectly, and house … never really gets offended or annoyed by this. he's pretty indulgent. he even enjoys it. "sometimes i forget why i hired you," he says, pleased.

in the jerk chase calls him out for cancelling foreman's interview. unlike when foreman did the same, house admits it, clearly pleased to be caught. chase offers him advice:

CHASE: You cost him a good opportunity and gained nothing. HOUSE: I cost him a crappy opportunity. New York Mercy's where you go to treat boils and cysts and build a 401K. CHASE: If you want him to stay, tell him. HOUSE: I don't and there'd be no point. CHASE: You do. And the point would be to make him feel like he's wanted. HOUSE: He doesn't need that. CHASE: All right, then. It'd make him feel like maybe you weren't evil. He needs that. Talk to Foreman.

he gives him orders. and house doesn't push back, doesn't dismiss chase for trying to lecture him, answers honestly.

in human error, they actually briefly continue this conversation; chase's frustration at house not taking his advice leads to his outburst that leads to his firing. (not that house fired him for getting involved or nosy.)

and then no more mr nice guy comes around, and they go bowling. first of all: this is the only time in the series house has ever invited anyone who is not named wilson out without it being a bet or a bribe. he really needed a bowling partner and went chase. but the same thing happens.

CHASE: So what are you going to do to screw up Wilson's relationship so you don't have to listen to me while you bowl? HOUSE: I wish the best for them and their tragically deformed children. CHASE: Well, she's good… At being bad. You might not be able to destroy her. HOUSE: Well as long as I give it my best shot, I can hold my head high. CHASE: Cameron had this one insufferable friend. She wasn't going to get rid of her and I sure wasn't going to join them, so I just said, see her on Thursday's. I know it's not as exciting as an exploding birthday cake, but, hell, I don't want to hang out with her every night anyway. HOUSE: That's amazing. Cameron only has one insufferable friend?

(insufferable friend you will always be a legend) chase just! jumps in! gives advice! completely casually, like it's nothing, house not blowing him off or dismissing what he says. later in the episode, he takes this advice and tries to work out joint custody with amber.

it isn't that house never takes other people's advice. he quite commonly solicits opinions. cameron and foreman have also both offered house their takes, and he's sometimes even listened. but usually he's dismissive. he's sarcastic. he doesn't have a conversation about it, he listens and does what he wants. chase can just stroll in and say stuff and house engages.

and of course there's my favorite example of all, from the social contract, when house needs a surgery done:

CHASE: You want me to help you? Tell me why. HOUSE: Why what? CHASE: Why you care. The puzzle's solved. The guy's alive. And the odds of coming out of this surgery with that same status aren't that great. HOUSE: My patient has a quality of life issue. CHASE: He says awful things. Hardly a medical condition. HOUSE: When he leaves here, he's going to lose his family. He's gonna alienate the people he works with. And if he ever finds a friend who's willing to put up with his crap, he'll be lucky. Until he drives them away too. CHASE: …I'll see what I can do.

he gets the truth. house all but says i identify with this person, i want the surgery done for me. chase doesn't ask questions, he gets it. but also he asks house why, and he gets an answer. no bullshit, no evasion.

we've all joked about how chase gets house, but it's like. he really does. he's incredibly observant, he's good at reading people, it's why house hired him. but he also doesn't… push. he doesn't use this ability to push house. he's not constantly trying to poke and prod and fix and understand house (because he kind of already does), but in return it means chase can jump in and just say stuff. because he doesn't make demands, because he doesn't ask anything of house, the few times he does, house tends to respond honestly in return. it makes me. insane

[crabdrabbles]

Graves + Shadows Headcanons Part 3 [Part 1] [Part 2] Words: 766

Praise for DAYS. Did Shadow 5-8 get a good shot on the target? Punch in the shoulder at the end of the mission and a bright grin “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, 5-8!”, 

“Atta’girl, 6-12, I couldn’t’ve done that better myself.”

“Keep it up, 10-4!” Reaches over and brings them into a side hug and ruffles their hair like a proud dad. 

Coming back to Graves having a lot of respect for his soldiers, remember that scene in SWCW where it's like

"We're clones, sir, we're meant to be expendable..." "Not to me."

Yeah that's Graves.

He has kept every set of dog tags that belonged to Shadows that died during missions. They’re kept locked away in a box, safely tucked away.

A lot of Shadows were previously mercenaries, even criminals, but they are good at what they do which is why they get hired in the first place. Not to mention that Graves sees hiring them as a way to give them a second chance at life. 

Shepherd has learnt that the way to make Graves do what he wants is by threatening his Shadows. He could very easily dissolve the entire company in a day and expose Graves for technically harbouring wanted criminals.  

Yes, Shepherd called him a ‘dog with a bone’, but he’s more like a Dragon with a hoard. His hoard being his soldiers.

Some rando who was visiting the base once snapped at a Shadow, calling them a ‘stupid fucking mercenary’. That was his mistake when Graves had to be restrained by 3 of his own men. 

“What the fuck did you just say to them? You’d best walk outta my base before I make you leave in a goddamn body bag!”

As shown above, he goes absolutely feral if someone ever insults any of his soldiers.

“Be quiet, sergeant, your betters are talking.” Said some hoity Commander who hasn’t stepped foot in a battlefield in over a decade. Suddenly, it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out like a vacuum. All eyes go to Graves as he glares long and hard at the man. 

“Apologise. Now.” “What–” “I said: apologise, ‘fore I show you my own version of ‘southern hospitality’.”

Compulsory language lessons. Every Shadow has to know at least 2 languages, English and another language of their choosing. Missions sometimes rely heavily on communication, so fluency in different languages is important.

Graves knows several languages himself, but his pronunciation is downright awful. Sometimes he makes his accent worse because it’s funny watching the horror in people’s eyes when he speaks. 

One of his Shadows has a tendency of crawling around in the vents in the base and because he’s not really harming anyone, Graves lets him do as he pleases. Because of the habit, however, and the fact he’s somehow able to go around almost silently through the metal vents, he’s earned an affectionate nickname amongst the Shadows; Roach. 

Graves doesn’t get along with family. Don’t get him wrong, he has some semblance of respect for his Momma cause she taught him good manners and other things like how to cut hair and how to cook a hearty meal for 12 people, but she was a narcissistic bitch when it came down to it and he took a lot of pleasure cutting her out of his life the second he was able to. 

He never met his father, and doesn’t much care for him, either. 

Paid leave/Holidays? Check. Paternity/Maternity leave? Check. Bed ed and board? Check. Medical and dental plan? You know it. Any possible benefit that can come with a job, being a Shadow has. 

No matter what they’re doing, if Graves does a run up to them, they will always catch their Commander. 

Is the first or last port of call when a fight/argument breaks out. It depends on how out of hand it's gotten in the space of about 15 minutes. Usually people don’t want to interrupt whatever the Commander’s doing and invoke his wrath.

“They started it!” “Well I’m endin’ it!”

Has the type of authority that if he were to suddenly yell at a recruit “Drop it. Now!” Everyone in earshot would absolutely drop whatever they were holding even if the comment wasn’t directed at them. 

There’s a Shadow that’s the largest of the entire company– but he is the biggest scaredy cat and coward anyone has ever met, which makes people wonder why he’s even in Shadow Company. The reality is that, despite being a coward, he’s damn intimidating. Perfect for him to shadow hover behind Graves during mission briefs and so forth.

have a request? send one in!

[da3drat]

I was looking for something else entirely and found this old snippet from the university au and honestly I liked it so much I had to post it lol. Meri teaches a third era history of Morrowind class (this is not why she was hired, they just make her teach it because she's oddly knowledgeable about the subject).

A hand shot up in Meri's peripheral vision and she grimaced. She knew exactly what was coming, it always did eventually.

"Sadri." She called on the student.

"But what happened to her after that?"

"To whom?"

"The Nerevarine. The primary source said she married Almalexia, is that true?"

"Most historical accounts seem to agree on that, yes."

"But how? Why? I mean she worked with the Ashlanders and the Dissident Priests. She read the alternate histories. Didn't she doubt her safety?"

Meri sighed. These questions had been so much easier to dismiss fifty years ago when she was still teaching exclusively Temple doctrine. In the years since several heretical documents had leaked with the Ashlander's account and been added to the historical conversation around the Tribunal.

"You would have to ask her that. There's no knowing for sure. However we do have some journal entries from her, and they don't seem to imply any kind of fear." She hoped that would end the conversation, but her hopes never seemed to turn out.

"They're SAPPY, too." Another student chimed in.

She should have burned that damn journal.

"Oh my gods, this passage killed me." One student snorted and flipped through his handouts. He placed a hand over his heart and vastly overacted as he read aloud. "Sometimes I get lost in her curls. Like the fires of red mountain they consume me and I can think of nothing else. The heat, the smoke, the sensations are all the same to me now. When I dream of her I feel lava. When I dream of the mountain I see her eyes."

"Is there a question there, Mero?" Her eyebrow quirked with irritation.

"No." Mero laughed. "I agree, she didn't sound scared to me."

"Well, yeah, she was brave." A tiny bosmer girl said.

"Fearless." Meri corrected. "Not quite so admirable as brave."

"Aren't they the same?"

"Bravery is acting in spite of fear." Meri walked slowly between the podium and her blackboard as she spoke. "If you're not feeling any fear, there's no bravery in your action." She pointed at Mero with her chalk. "Take Mero here, he doesn't fear being made a fool and acts without considering the possibility." A chuckle rung through the lecture hall. "If he, say, was anxious about the way he were perceived maybe it could be considered brave to constantly interrupt my lectures. Or me; I'm not afraid of spiders, is it brave to carry them out of my office in my hands? Or does it seem that way to you because you fear spiders? The spider could bite me, it could be poisonous, but I carry it all the same. It's not brave to take unnecessary risk, but it does imply a lack of concern for the consequences. Fearlessness."

"So... she married Almalexia because she didn't fear the consequences?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps it was political, or convenient, or any number of other things. But look through those journal entries again after class today. Try to find one example of fear, or any time she seems concerned about the consequences of action or inaction. I expect to hear your findings tomorrow when we finish discussing her trek beyond the Ghostfence."

[wifiwuxians]

Yi City group in Star War AU? 🤔

HOUH it's been a while since i've starred in a war. let me see if i can come up with anything remotely compelling ... the good thing about star wars is the setting is so huge i can just make some planet up and nobody could contradict me i feel like

always gotta start with XXC. he lives on a remote, tiny planet with tall, jagged mountains and floating rocks, training in the ways of the Force and connecting with all of the universe thanks to the stern (yet loving) hand of a legendary runaway Jedi master said to be so powerful that she can bend time to her will, rendering her immortal. XXC is not native to this small planet, of course. this master chose such a place due to its lack of people. he is a war orphan, rescued from the conflict and taken somewhere safe. he is not the first, and he may not be the last, but as of right now, he is her only pupil.

XXC loves his master. he wants to make her proud and be beside her forever. but the more he senses The Great Unknown Out There off their tiny rock, the more he wishes to explore, to learn. he wants to see others. he wants to help those caught in conflict as he once was. his master tells him he isn't ready, but she's been saying this for a while now. he knows she's making excuses to keep him here, but he doesn't want to defy her will. and yet, one fateful day... he senses the ship before he sees it. long before, causing him to watch the skies like a hawk from his perch. as soon as it breaks the atmosphere, he knows exactly where it'll land and prepares for his rescue mission armed with medicine and blankets!!!

the unconscious pilot within is immediately fascinating to XXC, who has not seen another person in the flesh beside his master in decades. he wants to grill him with questions, but has to treat him first! carefully tending to whatever wounds he can see on-site, he prepares to transport him, making a mental note to come back and pick the ship apart when he has a moment. maybe he and this mysterious stranger can fix it up and... oh, he gets ahead of himself.

the pilot has a lightsaber!! and dark robes with intricately woven patterns that can only be seen up close. he carries an arrowhead-shaped crest over his heart, looking as if it were carved of ice. XXC's master says she recognizes the symbol, but only once she's caught staring at it and is pressured to speak of it. as XXC treats the pilot's wounds, she tells him the man belongs to a sect-like subgroup of Jedi known as the Knights of the Frost Line. she explains that they are known to travel the galaxy to help the needy (said with some suspicion and disdain). when XXC asks why she sounds displeased, she tells him that even those with the best intentions can be bought for the right price.

after a few days of treatment, the man awakens in a panic, but is quickly soothed by XXC. in the coming week, they learn a lot about each other; the man's name is Song Lan, and he was knocked out of the sky and sent flying through space when he attempted to bring aid to a city on a nearby planet, whose resources are being hogged by four tyrannical families. he seems antsy about possibly being followed here, but XXC reassures him that nobody else has made it to this small planet. SL reveals that the one who shot him down is a runaway Sith-trained mercenary hired by one of the four families to do their bidding. he is ruthless and relentless, known to chase his targets down and annihilate them and those they're close with, going so far as to burn down the remnants of their existence. XXC, horrified, vows to keep such a man away from SL and his home.

while trying to get back on his feet, SL trains with XXC, finding them to be a near perfect match. just like XXC is fascinated with him and his tales of the galaxy, he is fascinated with XXC and his deeper connection to the Force. when SL speaks of leaving and returning to his mission, he does so with reluctance. XXC begs him to take him with, to let him aid him in his quests and learn more about the galaxy beside him. SL can't bring himself to say no, even though his teachings strongly discourage bonding with outsiders. the two repair the busted ship and go find XXC's master, who knows what they're going to say before they've set one foot in the door.

BONUS since i already did 6 instead of 5 oops: A-Qing is a little stowaway who sneaks onto their ship while they're doing a pitstop in a marshland town. having grown up on the streets after being separated from her only family, she is often looked down on by both those in the town and the neighboring larger city, who know her to be a thief and a pest who is mysteriously too quick and limber despite having eyes like pearls. they only find out about her presence on their ship once XXC's stash of candied (space) pine nuts starts getting smaller than it should, and by then the marshland town is but a speck in the distance. they have to spend a few months at their destination and do not have the heart to just leave her on a random doorstep, nor do they want to turn around and go back to where she came from; XXC understands what it's like to want to leave home behind. unsure of what to do with her, they let her stay beside them as they do their work, and she begins to study their movements remarkably closely. one day she surprises the two by swinging her staff at the man they're pursuing! it seems someone taught her the basics of fighting when she was very small, but she can no longer remember their face.

[kylosbreedingkink]

Hot sugar and/or carnage?

(I'll do Carnage as another post) Hot Sugar is a kylux fic where Hux is every single bit of the British Conservative that Domhnall Gleeson channels when playing the character. LGB without the T, telegraph reading, doesn't understand why people don't like Piers Morgan, would very happily burn money in front of the homeless, gets ahead in life due to nepotism but tells himself it's meritocracy, can see that sending asylum seekers to rwanda is just a culture war ploy but also doesn't see why people would be against it, sort of absolute utter cunt.

(The exact reason why I love Hux as a character is as the actor managed to get this feeling of British upper middle class wankery into Hux without a lot of the other situational 'tells' and so went purely on how he reacts to the world around him and expects to be granted everything he wants by virtue of who he is. ) Except, through work, he becomes obsessed with someone that calls himself an 'influencer'. He would never admit it, though. The obsession grows, this guy gets under his skin and just won't leave him alone. So hux has decided to get under this influencers skin in return. --Fic is one sided kylux, some attempted noncon, with background bentai and renbentai. Kylo and these other ships are seen only through the PoV of Hux who is obsessively watching the content that influencer Kylo puts out. Here's the first page of it

He keeps an Instagram for his photography. That’s what he tells himself. He expands to Twitter just to broaden his horizons, and it turns out Twitch has an entire art category where he knows he can find like-minded people interested in his hobby.

So what if he ends up logging more hours on the 'Let's Chat' category, sometimes the streamers there talk about genuinely interesting topics (Though he always ends up watching the same channel). And sure, he might only follow ten accounts on his Twitter; a quieter timeline is an easier timeline. Nevermind that five of them are dedicated to one person, one being the person themselves and four being 'stan' accounts. The others are his favourite newspaper (The Telegraph, of course), his favourite author Bret Easton Ellis, Morrissey, Piers Morgan and an account which shares daily cat images. He’s on twitter right now, zoomed into an artfully posed picture of his… Well, he wouldn’t say obsession. That makes him sound like a stalker. Special interest, maybe? No, that makes it sound formal.

No, what this is, is research for work. That’s all.

That annoying little upstart Dopheld, the new hire heading the marketing department, suggested they get an influencer to help promote their new product. Gin. They’re a winery, for Christ’s sake. A prestigious brand, and now Brendol wants to jump on the Gin bandwagon and add that to their long history of wine. Made from the leftover grape skins from their vineyards.. Who would even drink that tosh?

And then added to that, Dopheld has to come in with something to prove, and suggest they jump on another bandwagon and get an influencer to help push it. Ridiculous. How he got the job, he does not know. Some stupid modern day fad, entrusting their brand to an external body just because some people on the internet like them. Dopheld even had a whole presentation with suggestions of who to contact. Anyway, it was shot down right away. Brendol might jump on one trend, but the whole concept of ‘influencers’ just wasn’t on his radar, thank fuck. Though Dopheld better watch out for his job, he’s still in his probationary period.

However, he would be a poor executive if he didn’t thoroughly research everything his employees suggested.

And that leads him to this situation. Just taking the odd glance at the ‘influencer scene’ as it were. He didn’t realise it was so lucrative, and he can’t help but admire the work ethic these people had. Even if their career choices were distasteful. It’s just the odd glance anyway, just to see what’s going on in that ‘world’, to keep himself up to date with the current youth culture. 

---

He calls himself Kylo. That can’t be his real name, a lot of these ‘influencers’ seem to have made up names (Just why? What do they have to hide? Not like anyone is going to turn up at their doorstep, it’s not as if they offer any true value to the world). 

In his brief research, influencers seem to form their own niche. Games, fashion, traveling, cooking.. Even, bizarrely, household chores. This Kylo though, a young man who featured prominently on Dophelds slides, doesn’t seem to have a theme at all outside of all that made up gender nonsense and being a goth. Calls himself a ‘they’ despite clearly being a ‘he’. Preaches accepting yourself for who you are, only as far as Hux can see the ‘who you are’ part is just whatever bollocks comes into his head at the time.

It’s with a sneer that he closes out of the Twitch stream, Kylo chatting animatedly about some fake farm video game he’s playing with some ‘VIP subscribers’, catching half the sound effect of a horror scream denoting he’s got yet another new subscriber before he’s faced with his own reflection in his black desktop background.

[observeowl]

Her Assistant | Chapter 5 - Feelings

Summary: After losing her family, Natasha Romanoff builds her company from the ground up. During the rise of her company, she decided she needed an assistant, one that works in her office and her house. That's when she saw your resume. After working five years for her, how was it like working for her? Or more importantly, how things progress?

Series Masterlist

Your POV After Miss Romanoff rushed me out of the house for absolutely no reason, I called my friend to see if she was free to hang out. She works as a freelance photographer so her schedule can be a bit hard to guess. This wasn't the first time I got hurt after a mission, I don't understand why she was so adamant on me resting.

Turns out she was free so I went to her house to fetch her before driving us to the bar we frequent since young.

"How's working for Natasha Romanoff?" She said as she got into the car.

"Wow. No hi or anything? Geez, get out." I said jokingly, playfully shoving her out of my car. She doesn't know what it was like serving Miss Romanoff, she thinks that I am serving a normal wealthy family that does normal duties in the house. You know, the normal cleaning and helping the family. I do that, just adding the extras.

"Fine. Hi, nice to finally see you, my friend." Victoria said while rolling her eyes as she buckled her seatbelt. We reached The Eden pretty quickly and got seated at the bar.

"My life is boring. Tell me about yours. I've seen your photos, you've been overseas?" I asked her once we had a couple of drinks. Victoria nodded but didn't say anything else. "It didn't go so well?" I asked her wearily. I knew about her passion for photography, she has been taking photos at every opportunity.

"It's just not easy being freelance when you haven't made your mark. It's almost like you're paying people to get work." She shrugged her shoulders.

"I know you'll make it someday. You just need that one shot. By then you have to remember I'm your first ever supporter." I cheers her drink before downing the remainder of the drink and ordered us a refill.

Once you get drunk, even the coaster is a sore eye. I flicked it aside and set my glass on the oak table. "I've been avoiding this topic for a while..." Victoria began. "But really, how is it working for Miss Romanoff?"

"I've been working with her for a few years, she's been through a lot since what happened to her family. She hired me after the incident, I never asked what happened but I know it's not something good. But she's really strong, she managed to build her own company from the ground up." I said what I could, avoiding all the side stuff Miss Romanoff does and obviously the contract. I may be drunk but I still have enough consciousness to know what I can say.

"Is... her family still alive?" She rested her head on her fist and asked.

"I'm not sure. I've never heard her say anything about it. But I know she gets nightmares once in a while." The house and mansion is big but I never fail to hear her screams when it gets bad. I tend to just wait outside to make sure that nothing goes wrong. She wants to maintain a strong front and not be seen as vulnerable and I'm pretty sure she doesn't want anyone to know and talk about it so I've told Bucky to keep quiet as well.

Victoria gave me a knowing smile and I scrunch my eyebrows at her.

"I've never once seen you describe a person without saying a single negative thing about them."

I watched as the ice melted in my glass. It's true, there was always something to hate about the person I've met - like their punctuality, not that that stops me from being friends with them but their negative point was still there. I just have to live with them as long as our waves match. Even Victoria has them.

People can never be perfect, but Miss Romanoff seemed so. She may be rough at times, but I like it sometimes. Here I am trying to figure out what to pinpoint about her cons but I couldn't come up with anything. I- I like everything about her.

"Hey hey, what got you smiling like that?" Victoria tapped the table and pulled me back to reality.

"Nothing. We should get going. Miss Romanoff said I needed to be back at night. I'll drop you off." I said as I paid the bartender for our night of drinks. "Once you're famous, this kind of treat would be yours to pay."

"If I ever get famous. Are you sure you're okay to drive back?" She checked on me.

"I'm sure, let's go. Since when have you seen me dead drunk?"

She put on her thinking face and answered. "Never."

"Precisely. Let's go." I drove out of the parking lot once she was ready. I could smell my alcohol breath so I searched for my mint and offered it to Victoria at my side while still looking at the road. She took one before placing it back.

"Get back safe." She said after I dropped off.

"I will. See you soon." I waved at her before driving back to the house. It was nice to catch up with an old friend that I haven't seen for a long time. To be honest, ever since working for Miss Romanoff, I haven't been given the time off since we were usually engaged in missions and were sometimes overseas as well. And I've lost some contact with my friends, not sure what they were doing.

But I let my mind wander about what Victoria said regarding Miss Romanoff. Why am I feeling this now? She is my master, I'm not supposed to be feeling this way. This was not how they taught me. Her face flashed in front of me and set butterflies in my stomach. What is this feeling? I just can't seem to describe it. I think I need help. 

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

How did I get back to the house? I don't remember anything after dropping Victoria off. I don't even remember parking my car in the garage. Just how much did I drink yesterday?

I woke up with a pounding headache when the alarm rang and turned it off immediately. As the head assistant, my day starts earlier than the rest. And I got to work while trying to shake off the pain that even seems to make my hand shake.

"Are you okay?" Bucky's voice came out of nowhere and scared me, causing me to spill the hot coffee over my hand. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." He came and guided my hand under the running cold water. I clenched my jaw trying to control the pain and stop myself from whimpering in pain.

"What has gotten to you these few days? You never get hurt so often." He said as he applied cooling gel on my hand and wrapped it. He was always very well versed in first aid.

"Just the alcohol from yesterday night. Thanks." I patted his shoulders and assured him that nothing was wrong. "Help me set the breakfast on the table for Miss Romanoff." I nodded towards the food that was already plated.

Natasha POVAfter I told Y/N to leave, I didn't see her until it was almost midnight. I was still in my office getting ready for the release of a new product when I heard the garage door open so I went to check things out. Y/N came back stumbling into the house, unable to walk in a straight line. A huge part of me wanted to help her seeing how she was still injured from the mission earlier but I didn't think she'd want my help so I stayed behind the corner and made sure she got back to her room safely.

I stood outside her door trying to guess what she was doing but there was no sound until I heard light snores coming from her room. Content that at least she was safe, I retreated back into my room and went to sleep as well.

---

"Miss Romanoff." I could hear Y/N's voice. I groaned and faced the inside of the bed, not wanting to wake up yet. "Miss Romanoff, your coffee is ready." She said once again, and I finally got up. I mean, she asked so nicely, how can I get mad at her?

I noticed the white gauze on her hand as she handed me my coffee which I did not see when she came back yesterday. "What happened to your hand?"

"Just a burn, nothing much."

"You need to be more careful. You're supposed to be the best." I said. "What's the schedule for today?" I asked as I took a whiff of my coffee before sipping it, letting the aroma linger among my senses for a while longer.

"Tony is coming over today and the warehouse requested for your visit today." She informed me.

"Ahh yes... they have been bugging me to visit. I guess I'll go today." I gave her back the cup and she passed me my outfit for the day.

Breakfast was already on the table at my seat and I began eating when Tony barged in again. What's with him and his entrances especially during breakfast?

"Yes! I managed to catch you while you were still having your breakfast!" He cheered as he sat on the table opposite me. Are you sure this guy is a grownup? Doesn't he have any other better things to do other than to disturb me?

Bucky placed another set of breakfast in front of him and he started munching on his share. "I came to deliver what you asked."

Your POVDeliver what Miss Romanoff asked? What could it be that she didn't ask me to do it? Requests usually go through me and I try to source it to the best of my abilities.

A muscular guy came into view and I furrowed my eyebrow lightly. His tall structure and muscles are almost ripping out of his shirt. His blonde hair and blue eyes seemed so cold.

"Right... he will be your assistant for a week, Y/L/N." Miss Romanoff said while still eating her breakfast. So now I have an assistant...

"Steve Rogers." He held his hand towards me and I shook it as a kind gesture while nodding. "Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you."

"He's working with me and I'm lending him to Natasha for a week." Mr Stark said and he finished his breakfast, faster than Miss Romanoff. "He's pretty good at fighting."

"But... I don't see the need..." Given his recent track record of people working for him and actually being dangerous, I don't see how this is a good idea to use people that Mr Stark has hired. I am enough to protect Miss Romanoff, more people just add to the hassle and complexity.

"He's mainly here as my bodyguard. Your job remains the same."

"Yes, Miss Romanoff." I cleared her table and brought them to the kitchen. Was I not doing enough, is she going to replace me? But we have the contract. Where did I fail? Was it because I got hurt in the last mission and she thinks I'm not competent enough?

I got the car ready to leave for the warehouse and saw that Mr Rogers was following her. Not once in my one year of service I had the privilege of standing so close to her. We attended events together but I stood so far apart that I wouldn't even be included in pictures.

I opened the car door for Miss Romanoff and Rogers got into the back row with her. My knuckles were turning white from my tight grip I have on my steering wheel. Why is this affecting me so much? I am hired to follow orders, stop thinking so much. I pressed on the gas and we took off.

Once we reached the warehouse, there were already people there to greet Miss Romanoff. She followed Mr Simson, the head of the warehouse who was showing her the new products that were due to be out on the streets in a week.

"Here's a sample." He took a piece of chocolate and presented it to Miss Romanoff. She swirled it in her mouth, tasting it before giving an emotionless 'hmm' and moving onto the next section. I could see that the employees were flustered as they looked towards me for help since they didn't understand what kind of signal she was giving.

I gave them an okay sign and they hurried off passing the message that the product was in the clear. The production line started moving again and things were getting packed.

I looked at Rogers and he was eyeing Miss Romanoff like a piece of meat. Shouldn't he be looking out for dangers? Stop looking at Miss Romanoff!

Just seeing him sets off my anger, I am so irritated but I can't seem to calm down. I want to punch something, someone, more specifically him but I have to keep my image. I want to scream to let the world know I'm angry but I just take a couple of deep breaths while clenching my fist.

"Y/L/N! Aren't you coming?" Miss Romanoff shouted and I took a couple quick steps to catch up to the group.

Just a week, I told myself. He's here for just a week. You have better patience than this. 

---

Once we were done with the inspection of goods about the new product line, Miss Romanoff decided she wanted to have lunch outside so we went to the Italian restaurant we always frequent. There was a private seating area inside which was always reserved for us.

I was about to step inside when Rogers caught my arm and my attention was directed to him. "Where do you think you're going?"

I looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you going in?"

I chuckled at him and stepped backwards to stand right in front of him. I dusted the invisible dust on his shoulders and straightened his collar for him. "You may look tougher than me, but I worked here longer than you. So stop questioning me."

"Y/L/N, why are you so slow?" Miss Romanoff called from inside the room. I smirked at Rogers before heading into the room.

We were choosing our food when a waitress came in holding a cup of coffee and I instantly knew it was Rogers doing. Even though it was placed in front of Miss Romanoff, I took the cup and drank it instead. "Sorry about that."

We gave our orders to the waitress before she left and it was back to silence. She was busy with her phone and I sat there looking around... or at her. It was a weird quirk of Miss Romanoff, she never liked to eat alone so I had the luxury of eating at the same time as her. I'm guessing she hated the feeling of being left alone, one of the reasons why she never liked staying in her mansion. This was a plus compared to my other master, my meals were never on time.

Our food came and we proceeded to eat until I thought of Rogers again. "What about Mr Rogers?" I quietly asked as we were eating.

"You can go and order anything with him when you go get my coffee." She simply stated as she glanced up at me.

"Yes, Miss Romanoff." I got up from my seat and Rogers was still standing outside, I nodded for him to follow me and told him to order anything he would like to eat. Using my card, I paid for the food and collected Miss Romanoff's ice coffee that we pre-ordered.

"Miss Romanoff drinks specific coffee at different places."

---

The launch went exceptionally well and the profit was rolling in. The front page of the papers were showing the new products and the logo of the company can be seen. Once again, Miss Romanoff gave me another day off and went to work with Rogers. I don't understand why she was giving me so many days off all of a sudden. It made me very out of place and I had nowhere to go since the rest of my friends were working.

I walked where my feet took me and I ended up in front of a busy shop. People were crowding the entrance and there was even a queue to enter. I looked up slowly and it was the Romanoff Corporation. Kids were begging and dragging their parents into the shop, wanting them to buy the latest edition of toys and such. It was very chaotic with lots of screaming and yelling and the parents trying to remain strong and not give into their puppy eyes.

From the window, I noticed that Miss Romanoff was there as well. Out of every shop, my feet chose to walk to the one she's in. She liked going down personally to check on things and experience from the consumer's point of view, which was what made her company so successful as well. Due to the crowd of the store, Rogers' hand was on her waist, standing next to her.

I was boiling with anger and slammed my fist on the brick wall before heading back to the apartment. I found Bucky working out in the gym and I went to join him in the boxing ring after wrapping my hands.

I poured my anger into my punches and pushed Bucky to the edge of the ring. "Woah woah. Okay, stop!" I dropped my hands to my side and panted. "What has gotten into you? Has your wound healed?"

"I- I don't know." I stepped out of the ring and wiped my sweat.

"Ever since Rogers got here, you've been a lot angrier." Bucky noted as he took off his gloves and checked on my wound. "I've never seen you lose your cool." He lets my shirt down when he sees it's not bleeding through the bandage.

"Just drop it okay. I'm going back to my room."

Bucky POVI sighed as Y/N went back to her room. This week was not going to be peaceful at all. Rogers was daring and often overstepping his boundaries as a bodyguard while Y/N was staring daggers at him.

The tension was thick when both of them were in the same room. Rogers wished to serve Miss Romanoff better but Y/N would prove that he was not needed and he was making things a lot more complicated. Even though I have been here for slightly more than six months, I have yet to learn all of Miss Romanoff's habits.

"Just you wait, at the end of this week, I'm going to replace you." I heard Rogers say to Y/N one day in the kitchen.

"I'd really like to see you try." She shoved him aside before bringing the dinner out. I cleared my throat before entering and carried the rest of the plates out.

"Brother, a piece of advice. Don't mess with women." I stopped at his side before reaching the dining area.

"The two of you are dismissed." Miss Romanoff said and we walked out, leaving Y/N and her alone.

Natasha POVI could tell that Y/N has a lot on her mind and I told the guys to leave. We haven't had a mission for a while so I was curious as to what was clouding her mind. "You know, you can always tell me what's going on. I may be able to help. You don't always have to think of me as your boss."

She looked at me and gave me a kind smile. "I just don't understand why Rogers is here. Is he doing something that I can't be doing?"

I didn't think I was making her feel that way when I requested an extra assistant from Tony. I just wanted her to heal in peace since it was my fault she got hurt. But seeing Rogers here seemed to make her uncomfortable.

"I just wanted to see what having two assistants is like." Well, it's almost the end of the week. Just two more days and Rogers will be returned to Tony. But I guess I should let Y/N return to her normal work so she's more comfortable. Rogers... well, he can just stand somewhere.

We finished the rest of dinner in silence until Y/N cleared the plate.

"You can resume your work as per normal tomorrow." I told her before leaving the dining area. 

[nine-of-words]

(Harpy + XVIII The Moon)

Trans M Harpy x M Reader

Wordcount: 2907

Content Warnings: Magical Disguise, Brief Description of Death, Public Sex, Cloacal Sex (Reader Tops)

I’m doing a little self-inflicted challenge using the monstertober prompt here. But also with tarot card pulls for additional RNG! 

I’m not going to call this monstertober though, because there’s no way in hell I’m finishing all of these in October- knowing me, they're probably going to stretch out a few months. So, not sure what to call it: Autumnal monster one-shots? The name ultimately doesn’t matter.

The moon is full overhead, casting a dull, pale glow over everything.

The tall cedars and pines of the forest loom over you as far as your vision can go in the darkness, no familiar safety of guard towers anywhere in sight.

The sound of baying hounds has finally grown so distant that you feel like you can rest momentarily.

At least you and your fellow guard Kira managed to escape from the conflict relatively unharmed.

You still can't risk a fire, lest you be spotted by any pursuing bandits.

Kira sits perched on a nearby tall stone with the map, sitting in that peculiar way he favors; heel of his boots tucked to his ass. He doesn't seem to be looking at the map though, instead scanning the tree line. You’ve removed your armor, working to bandage the various scrapes you received from the scuffle with bandits on the toll road and the following sudden retreat through the undergrowth.

The adrenaline has finally begun to wear off, leaving you to sit and contemplate your failure.

The caravan you were escorting was attacked, that much is clear. But an ambush on the caravan? …Why?

There wasn’t anything particularly valuable in the caravan, past the everyday possessions of a nobleman. This toll road isn't even known for a high amount of bandit activity- It's why your employer chose to use it.

You grimace, growing tired of trying to sort out the reasons. Instead, your attention is drawn to your partner.

He looks the same as he always does: A slight, handsome male numan, with angular features, silky black hair with a near violet sheen depending on the light, cold pale skin and deeply curious, sharp grey eyes.

You’ve been in what could be called a romantic entanglement since shortly after he was hired on by your employer. You were tasked with training him as the senior guard on staff, though he didn’t need much training at all. Being paired together for guard shifts with someone you found blisteringly attractive only made the inevitable outcome happen sooner. While you’ve enjoyed the trysts, you’ve tried to keep them from interfering with doing your job.

He’s usually cool and collected under the pressure, even when things have gone wrong. But there’s some silent panic happening here, something shifty and out of character with what you’ve come to know.

But something isn't sitting right. Something… is off with him. Different.

You squint at him, getting to your feet with a grunt. 

"...You're hiding something. I can tell."

"No, I'm not." He blatantly denies, dismissive and matter of fact. But you can hear it in his voice, and see it in the hunched way he’s sitting, trying to make himself look smaller. That, and he's been avoiding looking you in the eye since this whole doomed journey began.

You approach the rock he’s perched on, worried he’s concealing an injury from you; he shrinks back, so subtly you almost don’t notice it.

"Hey-" You grasp his face between your hands for emphasis, turning his gaze on you. Perhaps a bit too intimate for the moment, but it's been far too long, nearly a week since you could feel his skin under your fingers, so you indulge yourself. It's been nearly impossible to wedge in any alone time on the road to do so."Talk to me."

You're considering pressing your lips to his for the much needed comfort, when you stop short. The movement causes the hood of his cloak to slide back, just enough to reveal tiny blue-black feathers that have sprouted on the bridge between his eyes, and at the edges of his cheeks.

"...Feathers…?"

"L-Let go-" He brushes you off, turning his face away and drawing his hood back up. "Why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the time? You make everything ten times harder-"

"Don't change the subject!" You sputter, stepping back but not dropping it.  "Feathers! What's happened to your fa-"

In backing away, you’ve given yourself room to see him clearly as a whole, and things seem to change right in front of your eyes.

Wide, shiny black wings hang down from his arms, nearly covering him, like a blanket draped from his shoulders.

Swathes of smaller feathers pepper his face, as well as chunkier feathers dispersed to form ear-like points, and a soft looking crest of plumage peeking out over his collar.

Ill fitting boots fall off and hit the ground with a hollow thunk. They're followed by the padded leggings more suited for less rounded, unfeathered thighs. He's left with just his long hooded tunic, looking almost comfortable.

The rock he’s sitting on certainly looks more like a perch now, between his wings and large scaled avian feet, each tipped with a glossy, blade-like talon.

“Huh.” You can only manage a surprised grunt, forgetting what you were even going to say- too busy taking in the new details of his appearance. Or at least- new to you.

“Glamour.” He laughs mirthlessly and pulls his hood all the way down in defeat. "Racist old fart only ever hired numen on."

"You're involved in this? But the others-" You conclude. Your fists clench, as does your jaw.

"The others aren't coming." He says, pointing a taloned finger towards the darkness of the woods. "And if they're smart, they ran instead of trying to fight. But that's on them."

"But… why?"

"Doesn't matter why, does it?" Kira sighs, shoulders falling as he seems to fully accept that he's been caught. "Someone’s why was big enough they paid a lot of gold for him to be dead. And so, now he's dead."

"I can't believe this-" You glare at him. The residual guilt from failing in your duties morphing into indignance of being lied to by someone you trusted. "You lied to me?"

Your hand instinctively reaches for the hilt of your sword hanging from your belt for some feeling of security, but you only feel empty space- you’ve left it back in its scabbard, where you were sitting on the rocks.

"I did. So, is this where you valiantly avenge your dead employer in the name of loyalty?” There’s the sound of feathers rustling over fabric and claw scraping against stone, just barely there. 

You simply stand there, nostrils flaring and teeth bared, ready to scrap for your life at the hint of violent intent.

“…I don't want to have to hurt you, love, but I'm not dying tonight- and we both know I'm the faster draw."

You don't need to have a clear view to know his hand is already on the hilt of a concealed blade somewhere on his person as he speaks. You've worked and lived and done other things with him long enough now to know.

Everything else- you should've known. Even appearing as a numan, everything about his movement, his way of handling weapons, even his mannerisms at times- screamed criminal. Concealment. Trickery. Deceit.

But you're not one to judge someone on their past, especially not when they're looking for honest work.

"...My loyalty to my employer only persists if he's still alive to pay my wages." You shake your head, recalling from the blurry memory of the tumult the sight of the old man getting a bolt to his neck and toppling from the gilded carriage. "That’s the risk you take hiring mercenaries as your personal guard… He was a sour old bastard, anyway."

The tightly wound tension, thick enough to cut with a knife, evaporates with your acknowledgement.

"And here I thought you just enjoyed playing the hero." His voice is already lighter, back to his normal, jovial tone, devoid now of the cold edge of necessity.

"I enjoy a job well done! That doesn't make me some paragon of virtue!"

"That's exactly something a paragon of virtue would say." He quips, feather bristling as he laughs his decidedly caw-like laugh at his own joke. You wonder how you never noticed that about Kira’s voice before, or if the magic downplayed that too.

You simply groan in response.

"I'll tell you one thing, I'm never buying from that miserable old hag over by the lake again." He spits on the ground in front of him in scorn. "Damned glamour didn't even last half as long as she claimed it would."

You can't hold back the laughter. The absurdity of the situation is too much, and you finally crack. 

“I thought you were taking this a bit too well…” Kira mutters to himself.

You slide a calloused palm down your face, silencing yourself. 

“I take it then,” You feel so foolish, that despite the calamity you just experienced, the idea of him faking his interest in you is what is truly bothering you about the situation. “That all of this was an act?” 

"No! ‘Seduce handsome guard’ was not on the agenda." You feel him risk reaching out for you, the first time since the facade dropped. The familiar feeling of his hand on your forearm is comforting, but the addition of a claw scraping lightly across your skin is surprising. …Though not entirely unwelcome. “That part sort of… fell into place all on its own.”

“Right.” You continue looking at him, trying to discern if this too is a lie.

“You don’t believe me. I don’t blame you.” Kira says, mimicking hurt. Or maybe it’s sincere…?

"Why lead me out here then, if you knew? Distraction?” 

"I wasn't about to let you die pointlessly in a little caravan scuffle. So, I was just… making sure you got out of the woods okay."

"You could've let me know ahead of time." You grumble.

"Ah yes, because that would've gone over flawlessly!"

You let out a resigned huff. You don't like this- but there's not much you can do about it now.

"Maybe I can make it up to you?" He says, voice suddenly suggestive and almost melodic. "For playing along so nicely."

You know that tone very well. Your body stirs on its own in response, without regard to your higher faculties.

A little subterfuge and a few feathers aren’t enough to eradicate your care for him, it seems. 

Before you can think to object, he's hiked the hem of his tunic up, showing off the soft slope of the upper portion of his raised and spread avian legs. His taloned fingers part the plumage of short feathers between his legs, showing you the pinkish hole underneath, his tail feathers spread out against the rock below.

That’s new. 

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious…

"Well?"

You peel your eyes away and glance around pointedly with raised brow, not having to say out loud that you're out in the middle of the woods right now- and while you’re no stranger to making do in the wilderness when the need strikes, you have recently fled from an ambush within the last few hours.

“I told you, no one’s coming. It’ll be fine.” The hand on your forearm migrates to claw at the front of your tunic, encouraging you closer with a smirk on his face. “...No one else, at least.”

You can't resist anymore, one hand moving to hold him around the waist. 

“There you are,” Kira coos in approval at the weight of your touch on the bunched fabric at his waist, taking your face in his hands to kiss you on the lips, then press a few in a trail down your neck. “You’ll have to make this angle work for you, I’m afraid. I'm not in the mood to roll about in the dirt tonight."

He reclines slightly, bracing himself against the surface of the rock and balancing himself, making it look easy.

Wasting no time, you bring your other hand up and probe two of your fingers experimentally into the opening. It's soft and warm as usual, but it’s already fully slicked and the way its ribbed edges are pulling at your fingers, like it’s trying to drag them inside, is a foreign sensation. You thought two fingers might be too much to start with, but you’re starting to think your whole hand could easily be swallowed up whole at this point with how deeply they’re sinking in, lost to the ribbed interior.

Your mind tries to make sense of the newness- you know you’ve been acquainted with this part of him before, because there are some things even glamoury can’t change, but the experience of it being different and yet so familiar is making your head spin.

It was a bit suspect that he always seemed to be lubed before you got down to business, despite how unlikely the scenario. It’s partly your reasoning behind thinking he was out to seduce you, but now you’re realizing that he was just telling the truth about genuinely finding you attractive the whole time- at least if the slippery fluid coating your fingers now is any indication.

“Aaah,” His bird-like feet clench in the air at your sides, grasping at nothing. He winces as he watches down his torso, half-lidded eyes focused on your hand working inside him. “Nnh-”

You thought you liked the sounds you could draw out of him before, but now they’re downright enchanting.

It doesn’t take much exploring before you’re burning up with lust under your clothes, unable to hold back any longer.

You wrap your hand around his thin scaled ankle, making enough room for yourself between his legs. Then you close the distance until your boot tips are nearly flush to the face of the stone, hastily rustling yourself just barely free between your breeches and your tunic, already painfully worked up and ready to go. 

After a bit of somewhat blind searching, you manage to press your cock inside, his cloaca relatively in the same location that it’d be if he were still in numan form. The sweet crush of his vent is even better wrapped around your dick than on your fingers, to little surprise. Downy feather edges tickle the damp surface of the sensitive, just barely exposed skin on your pelvis.

Once you’re sure you’ve gotten where you need to be, you grip the other side of his waist as well. Your instincts kick in and you’re out the gate, already thrusting into the heat like your life depends on it.

Even the slightly unconventional staging isn’t enough to keep you from your goal. You’re well enough acquainted with what your partner needs to only need some minor adjustments to quickly find a familiar, if a bit harried, rhythm.

“Fucking hell,” You emphatically hiss through clenched teeth, over the wet, slightly muffled sounds of wet flesh and rustling feathers. “Does that feel good.”

“Glad it’s good for something- Nngh-” 

You continue to rut into him like a wild beast, grunting and chasing down the growing tightness in your loins. 

You want to hit every part you can reach, touch every part of him there is to touch, hammer out a permanent space for yourself.

It may be a change from what kind of hole you’re used to fucking, but you couldn’t care less at this point. The difference is inconsequential.

It’s still him.

Kira’s legs wrap around you like a set of arms embracing you, crossing over your lower back, holding you closer as he grinds back against your thrusts. His oversized talons dig into your flesh through the fabric like human fingers demanding more. The harder and faster you thrust, the closer you get to having the skin on your lumbar rended to shreds through your tunic, but you're too enamored to care.

He goes to cover his mouth with his feathered arm as his body starts to shudder, but you intercept with your own, pinning his wrist to the rock at his side. 

If you went through all this trouble tonight- and find out the lover you’ve been fucking this whole time is a bird- you’re at least going to get to hear him sing.

“Uungh-” Kira lets out an interrupted noise in surprised approval, mouth agape in a pleased rictus. His vocalizations hit their highest, quivering pitch just as his vent constricts around your cock in the hardest squeeze. “Aah-Aaaah-”

His spine bends in an elegant arc and his sharp talons dig into your knuckles as their hand grips into yours where you have him caught. As his strangle hold on you lets up, a new wave of slickness coats you, making it hard to keep yourself together.

You’re dead on your feet by the time you unload inside of him, running only on pleasure and leftover vestiges of adrenaline. You unwind, senses overloaded and your thinking thoroughly dulled. All you are sure of before you sleep is that you managed to satisfy; both him and yourself.

In the morning, you wake to sunlight filtering through the trees above, flat on your back on a relatively evenly-faced slab of rock.

"What am I going to do now?" You wonder aloud and grind one of your palms on your grimy face. "I'm out a job and a place to live…"

Even if you go back now, your reputation is ruined. You won't be able to find work, and there will certainly be questions…

Pointed tips of clawed fingers brush through your hair from behind you, raising gooseflesh on the back of your arms.

"Well, as luck would have it, I know someone who's hiring."

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[unproduciblesmackdown]

right i keep forgetting: speculated another layer in lackadaisy murder mystery

so my premises being:

atlas, mordecai, mitzi being in on atlas's death, which was somehow necessitated &/or inevitable. such that mordecai was the one who shot/killed atlas, which everyone was also in on, so that there'd be maximal control over the situation. mordecai would do it, because it was made part of his job, ordered by atlas. see: mordecai banging on about how he just deals with his approach to Work & Professional Business & The Job, which is obviously already relevant to being the effective professional assassin who everyone keeps going "aren't you here b/c you're having so much fun? why aren't you having fun. what a weirdo" at, but gains even more relevance if he's also a resident of coping city over killing atlas, even at atlas's behest.

mitzi and mordecai now having the best relationship ever where they keep this secret and also never talk to each other after mordecai goes fuck it i quit this specific operation. both of them being aware of the material, transactional aspects of their relationships with atlas, who wanted this wife and this talented hire, but there also being emotional aspects, at least mostly on their ends. suspecting that atlas, as this central, opportunist figure, had feelings as well but was always centrally opportunist regarding his relationships with them, and regarding anything else, and much more detached from them than they were towards him. and they're both probably aware of that, in no small part, And Yet. the emotions still matter hugely or what are we doing here, with characters, in a narrative? these two, who aren't really so dissimilar, being locked into this "ugh. only you understand my experience here" connection lmfao the tragic widow of this mf where the marriage presumably wasn't this epic love story, and yet, and the gayass bodyguard/hitman from out of nowhere whom nobody likes because he's just so particular and uncharming hmm but who is also effectively brought into things on atlas's arm, parallel to mitzi going from showgirl to glamorous wife....competitiveness between them? unbelievable. by which i mean "believable" and through which there can still be this begrudging recognition of the self, or, at least, begrudging recognition of the [atlas's preferred party] status that means being motivated by him says you put up with them, and now, recognition of the shared understanding in this shared secret involvement in atlas's death.

just preemptively i guess like "mordecai said he's trying to find out who killed atlas" he didn't, that's only one way to read between the lines; "he quit lackadaisy to go investigate them regarding atlas's death" he didn't & he does say that there was no overt reason to suspect any involvement Until Now, like a day & a half ago in the timeline lol; "he would not kill atlas b/c he was loyal to him" yeah, unless he Would b/c he was loyal to him, that is, because atlas told him he had to

anyways so i of course have no idea what mitzi specifically could've gotten up to such that she and mordecai think she had a key role in atlas's death, that was her fault, but wasn't her directly killing him or anything. though we do see already how she won't abandon the hope for better via lackadaisy, and won't cut her losses, she can put it back together....but what could she have pursued when atlas was still alive, that confers some blame onto her? idk. but it's not something that mordecai Really harbors this vengeful grudge over, so he knows enough about it And has some kind of understanding about it....and/or just doesn't choose to pursue a grudge over a dead man. whom he shot & killed btw! is my firm theory. even though he didn't want to, of course. but that might help him sympathize with mitzi / her sympathize with him, here lol....part or all of this is understood to be her fault, even if of course she wouldn't have chosen that outcome, while it's also understood that mordecai carried out killing atlas, even if of course he wouldn't have chosen that outcome: maybe enough of a balance there

so my One More Layer to add on, that does feel necessary (b/c mordecai sure IS investigating something very motivatedly rn, & marigold's mysterious goings on do seem to be connected to the murder mystery that'd apparently otherwise been in stasis before that fateful brunch like one day into the timeline) is simply that atlas had more involvement in whatever led to his death than mordecai or mitzi know about. i'm sure it's plausible that in this one last Event, atlas was totally fine leaving them more in the dark about things, if that preserved his ego or was otherwise somehow more Advantageous, perhaps simply convenient, even if it leaves them with less info and more blame. like, it's sure possible there's some kind of Reveal that's all heartwarming like reassurance that aww atlas really cared....i just always presume he's essentially shitty & is this central force of peak Opportunism in the middle of this mystery, fine to benefit from mitzi's and/or mordecai's emotional investment without being beholden to genuine reciprocation on that front

sure wondering who runs marigold, since it's not asa, night manager, little more than a messenger in these matters. sure wondering if this is all about some feds going "and this time we mean it" with investigations like hey hey stop with this economy we don't have formally organized access to, which seems bolstered by the pilot emphasizing that element as a reason to "tie up loose ends," and by mordecai seeming to have found this thread where the comic's tying up of loose ends / sizable thorn in marigold's side subplot (sidenote about his own "thorn" nickname thrust upon him lol....presumably about him being Thorny, but it sure seems like he's now a problem for marigold, with his conflicting motivations stirred up: Now looking into things surrounding atlas's death, beyond who pulled the trigger (since i think that was him) more so, who might know that he did, what does asa/marigold Know just in general about the whole situation)....sure thinking that whoever runs the place is Very secretive about it, like, even if mordecai and/or mitzi know who it is at all, why is communication all so indirect & [as little info as possible] if not to insulate/protect this highest up person? e.g. mordecai's tasked with doing all this dirty work, but if he was the one being interrogated, he couldn't say why, even if he wanted to....and he'd like to know, as being left this in the dark did bother him enough to ask asa about it, even before the fateful brunch.

sure thinking about how if the head of marigold is prioritizing this kind of minimizing of risk, even at expenses like the employee morale of your top [killing you] agents (see also: the savoys not assuming that their working with mordecai Now will go on indefinitely, whether because he breaks with marigold, or they do, they sure don't specify, while they do say that they're both parties who'll turn on partners simply over "business" (though it wasn't Just Business for mordecai re: lackadaisy, as he bristles over)) and how really ultimately Everyone Else is a liability, vulnerability, risk....sure wondering if, say, what asa had to warn atlas about had to do with the head of marigold simply starting to rethink the alliance, now that they'd cleared out all other competition, if they thought they could keep that monopoly without lackadaisy, and perhaps also if they were seeing all of lackadaisy as this possible loose end already, all of lackadaisy's vulnerability potentially transferring over to marigold....so planning to benefit by killing atlas, presuming this would get rid of lackadaisy altogether. just also not planning to be open about it, when instead other ambiguous/unknown rival parties could be presumed the killers, or mitzi, to inherit things. maybe it was such a done deal that atlas simply decided he'd rather at least have more control over it (have his own guy kill him instead) and whether he thought this might be better than, say, retiring, and/or if he thought this afforded lackadaisy the best chance of surviving....difficult to suppose how the Opportunist guy would pursue plans for his own death, kind of the opposite of any opportunity, but maybe if he truly thought it was inevitable, and was wanting to try to ensure this legacy that he thought could preserve some status, preserve some of the resources he'd built up, preserve his ego / sense of success....

the kinda summary here being just that maybe marigold did have this role in atlas's death, as vaguely described above lol, but for some reason atlas told mitzi and mordecai it had more to do with some situation that they now both think gives mitzi more Culpability than she had....like, speaking of "it's possible atlas also has feelings lol / any sentimentality here too" maybe he figured that their really not knowing the full/real story could protect them from marigold? since they're not happy with whatever story they know now, but they're not particularly endangered for it, to the degree that they apparently could've never discussed it with each other again without issue. atlas just Always looking for further opportunity and pursuing it without much discretion sure could get him killed, sure could have him seen as too risky an associate for marigold, instead a liability to be gotten rid of if marigold then thought they wouldn't then be worse off (which, they're now not, the only big game in town). and it's similar to mitzi now having less discretion/restraint in pursuing any opportunity, because of how few options they have, and rocky similarly as well, as this potential atlas esque figure who just has no similar veneer/demeanor/style about anything lol, and of course is also scrounging for resources to hold things together day to day.

just sure is the case that mitzi and mordecai do not seem to have The Full Story, despite that they do seem to be the only ones who know the full story of how atlas died, as a specific, isolated event lol (atlas planning & ordering it, mordecai shoots him (with the gun atlas first gave him on the train!! compare the illustrated dramatic silhouettes!! the dramatic resonance of it all), mitzi knows this, they all know that they all know)....and wondering if atlas didn't somehow Use Them a bit more in the end than they realized, though i also hardly think they Only have the rosiest view of atlas....a capacity here to learn Whatever about his death, and be disappointed, but not surprised. or, as i've talked myself around to thinking about, which is a demonstration of putting thoughts into writing as another layer of thinking through things: maybe it Was atlas sentimental mode after all, realizing how dangerous the head of marigold is about getting rid of these loose ends, making up some alternate story about why his death is inevitable that puts more blame on mitzi (somehow. doesn't seem to have been a Complete fabrication, or how/why would either of them be believing it?) which is unfortunate, as well as the unhelpful rumors about her killing him, but it still protects everyone from Knowing about marigold's involvement, and having suspicion towards this party (the mystery head of marigold) who is now willing to kill him, this powerful, valuable, reliable ally, to get rid of someone who could simply Know Too Much, give too much info away, in the course of having this independent but connected operation. mordecai's already in hot water for having suspected something's up with marigold's prior assumed noninvolvement in atlas's death & it's been like a day (we don't Know this, but he's taking major risks & deviating from what he Should be doing, professionally....and i do think the next thing that was going to happen is the savoys busting in like hey lol what tf's going on here. and i don't think they'd race to Tell On Him (though i do think serafine kills gracie just sight barely seen) and i figure he'd be pushed into committing to more of an alliance with them, since now they all know he's already secretly going afoul of marigold at all, asking these questions & whatall. and i think the savoys would also be interested in the answers. like, why not)

[pumpkinpie59]

i hate how enemies to lovers is so popularized but only if they actively despise each other and all their tension is based on physical attraction alone and not rlly genuine emotional connection

like im sorry but my flavor of enemies to lovers is where even tho they’re on opposite sides it genuinely pains them that theyre apart. they try to avoid hurting the one the love as much as they possibly can. if something does happen it rips them to shreds emotionally.

like. examples.

wow shocking

these two are probably the fluffiest enemies to lovers ever.

when they fight it’s clear they aren’t really fighting to hurt the other. they fight because they both enjoy sword fighting and respect each other’s skills. it’s more like playful sparring than fighting.

and being on different sides (depending on who hires lotus) doesn’t affect them all too badly since they respect each other’s choices and choose not to pressure each other to switch sides (at least not after their first episode together).

they’re both super whipped for each other and it’s sweet. lotus doesn’t show up as often as i’d like but when she does leonardo is always rlly sweet with her, and they both help each other willingly.

if yall have been following me for years yall know about them ,

in both the og anime (above image) and in the reboot, pie is fascinated with retasu’s compassion and selflessness.

he was raised to believe humans were evil so seeing how good retasu is made him question his entire mission. in the og anime, while he still fought to save his people, he noticeably avoided fighting retasu for the most part after episode 41 (when she first shows compassion to him). at the end, he ultimately risks everything to save her after doing so many things he regrets. it’s implied multiple times he’s attracted to her (including a shot of him reacting sourly to retasu saving ryou, the one she has a crush on for most of the series).

“if only we had lived in another era …”

the og doesn’t really explain if they meet after he leaves, but the reboot has a much more solid ending for the two of them. they become friends and pen pals, writing each other about their lives and cultures.

they’re more like enemies to friends with feelings but it’s still great.

in the manga they hardly interact but they do end up coworkers which is funny to me. enemies to awkward coworkers to lovers fkdkdk

okay these two are a stretch but i still love them,

blackarachnia isn’t rlly good. unlike pie or lotus, she doesn’t have a lot of redeeming qualities. she’s a mad scientist with selfish goals and she’s extremely stubborn. so why include her?

because she still cares for optimus, even if she hates to admit it. and she doesn’t admit it because of trauma.

it’s not really like she goes out of her way to try and hurt him. she’s angry at him, yes, but when she makes promises to him she keeps them. she acts distant and manipulative but when she has the chance to genuinely hurt him, she doesn’t.

that said, both she and optimus need a lot of healing before they actually try to get together. they’re both traumatized, pained, and flawed individuals.

sentinel too but that’s a rant for another time

optimus has his new found family that’s helping him learn and grow. blackarachnia doesn’t have that. i think if she got to have her predacon family who cared about her, maybe she could find herself in a better place mentally and emotionally and that could open doors for her.

but ye they still have an emotional connection, even if they have obstacles to fight through.

[anonymousfoz]

QUICK WRITER! Put out a piece of writing that you think is probably your best. ADD NO CONTEXT AND LET US READ AND JUDGE IT!

Fuck you Anon, I am giving some context. This was a leak for a DND DLC. That's all you need to know. there is some editing of parts, but that's besides the point. (written: December 28th, 2022)

TW: Alcoholic mention, death, a little gruesome

You enter the fort. It's quiet compared to what Gianna said about it before. On the walls encouraging posters hung around. You go up past the front desk and into a small office on the second floor. There she is, the woman you despise. Alfredo sat in her chair pouring liquor into her drinking glass. She notices you walk in and offers you a seat.

"Took you long enough." Her voice is a strong contrast to when you first encountered her. Her loud intimidating voice was now soft and somber. "Why are you here? You could be defeating Bruno or saving [party member]." You gone quiet. You don't want to talk to her about your choices. She drank the liquor from her glass before putting it down. You notice the other bottles of liquor on the ground, all of them empty. Who knew how long she had been in here drinking but it seemed it wasn't getting her drunk. "You are here to get a new skull, My skull. Correct?" You nod. She let out a smile and sat fully back in her chair.

"Be my guest. Take your best shot." You do. Your choice of murder is brutal but it does the job done. You look at the corpse in the chair. It's slumped over the table, blood all over the walls. You turn your back to leave when you hear the sounds of liquor being poured. You turn around to see Alfredo still alive. You swore that you killed her, the gashes across her body still there and bleeding out. She invites you to sit again before drinking the liquor.

"I respect you kid, but you won't be able to kill me." You ask her why and how. She throws her glass at a portrait of a man on the wall. "Because of that disgrace of a father. He loved to hate me, but he needed an heir who would carry his name on. So he hired people to use magic... to make me nearly immortal." She was no longer looking at you but staring at the portrait. "I still die, I still suffer and he got what he wanted! I saw people I care about, perish because I outlive them. They either grow to hate me or get killed." You realized she's talking about Gianna. You ask her if she cares for Gianna. She gives you an unsettling glare, "Why wouldn't I care for her? A child experimented on by people who promised to take care of her? I am happy that she's found her tribe and living how she wants. But at the end of the day, I am always left alone. She was the thing who kept me sane after all these years." She gets up and moves out over to the window. You follow and see [party member] in the garden. You grow alarmed.

"She's still captive to Bruno, but she escapes every now and then and she loves gardens. Eventually, I'll find a way to send her back to hell. Where she is meant to be, with her older brother. But it doesn't matter to you. You just want to blow my brains out." She wasn't wrong. She goes under her desk and pulls out a book, black and blood-red with a unique pattern of flora surrounding a pentagram. You look back at the window and Bruno is taking [party member] back to places unknown. Alfredo hands you the book. "Only way to beat him is with magic much older than him… [party member]'s magic. Some spells are hard, and others will harm you. I left notes on which." You keep asking her why. Why is she helping you, and why now? "In all my years, I come to regret a lot of my choices. People like [party member] get in harm's way because of what I have done. If I can right a wrong, it's through you. After all, who wants someone like me to be the hero of the story? That's your job. You're just one step closer while I'll spend the remainder of my days in here drinking until I pass out. Where I can finally feel death, before life wakes me up again." You feel almost sad for her but you leave the office. Alfredo sits back down but the thought of her father hasn't left her mind. "I'll get back at you one day, father. After all this time, I still fix your mistakes and right your wrongs you bastard."

As you leave the fort you look back, no longer a place of fear but of depression. You are more curious about her father more than anything. But there is no time for that. Not when Bruno is getting an army to plan to take over [world]. Once again you leave, to be the hero again in your own story, to become the defender of [world] again. You promise you will be back, but who knows how long it will be.

[weeswine]

Stuff I have noticed watching ST season 4 for the 5th or something time:

(Or just my rekindling of opinions and feelings)

Lucas wasn't a back stabber, he sent Jason and the crew to El and Hops old cabin (me too busy just focusing on Lucas (he is babygirl✨️))

Eddie isn't present for like 2 episodes and that is just a big wow [also Erica, miss her :(]

That classic shot of Eddie at the d&d table is not him being a dramatic whore™, rolling dice, but actually congratulating Erica

Why is Erica wearing the flag? Like slay and also the American theme song is playing but like girl?????

Erica supports the gays ✨️ (She probably is a gay 🇺🇲🇺🇸🇺🇲🇺🇸)

Angela still deserves that skate to the head [slayed !]

Murray is slay.

Still cant look at Robins outfit from the psych ward (sorry but yeah nah)

Alexei 😫

Jason is a leader but not a responsible or smart one, like he is hunting down a couple of 20 y/os and their half a dozen 14 y/o children??? And supporting his teammates to do the same (i didnt like him before but jeez dude)

also you can see his style of leadership of basketball and children hunting have some similarities sus

California Dreamin was played because ... *drumroll* THEY ARE IN CALIFORNIA!

The main group are the pick me girls of character developement (they dont develope like other characters~ they get desensitized and are used to death and gore *bites lip, tucks hair behind ear, giggles and pukes little*) but also geniuenly concerned for their sanity:

Argyle: Omg that dude dead, my 1st (?) death, the party is not here my dudes😔, wtf is happening, Ive never been through this, Im meant to deliver pizzas not dead bodies🍍🍍🍍

Byer boys + Mike: Oh my ✨️gawwdd✨️ Argyle get over it already ... like chop chop this agent died like 20 seconds ago move on !

(but they were in danger like Argyle indeed dude chop chop)

Does Yuri always just drug his coffee with sleepy pills? Like my guy thats not what coffee is meant to be used for, and the pills wouldve been low dosage cause unless Yuri is a maths wiz he wouldve been counting his mula for a while

Hop! Just dont have feet. At this point get rid of them! Get those 'orrid manky things outta 'ere!

The most horrific part of ST is not asshole Vecna and his gang, its just watching Hop get his feet dragged or him running around in the snow, no shoes, big cuts, the only thing keeping is feet on his body is Joyce, she is a super glue.

Vecna is more than just a piece of shit, hes the entire digestive system.

But him just targeting traumatised kids and touching them on the fore head, like: "Dw sweetie~ I'll fix you, shh is okay, you be nasty never again <3 Nurse Vecna will make you all better~ :)"

They are not nasty! They just been through some shit. Fuck you twerp

Freds visions with the funeral family giving ✨️Tisphone✨️ vibes ~♡

Early season 4 Mike is an asshole (dw it gets gayer *pats on head*)

Steve 🥰

Robin 😍

Nancy 😘

Eddie 🤩 (star fish boy)

Together united in harmony, they are the power Rangers💕💞✨️✨️

Dacre Montgomery (Billy) was in power Rangers (hes also aAussie which is just so oool)

Conspirewithme: #headcanons

Joyce could totally just go 1v1 brawl with the entirety of the upsidedown, Id pay to see it.

That guy who hired Robin and Steve who also worked at the arcade defo played d&d with Eddie at some point

I need to see El just have a giant therapy dog (think Perrito but Great Dame size)

Mike might be projecting Will onto El butttt he bi af, have you seen his cheekbones??? ( im watching a documentary on "Mike Gay????😱😱")

I am only up to the beggingin of episode 5, gods i hope this makes sense and im not accidently offending anyone

(Im a tag sl**)🐌

[aphilosopherchair]

Vampire Psychologist For Hire

Human recruiter filling position for psychologist:

You left your gender checkbox blank. It's our fault that the system controls were not fully in place, but I do expect meticulousness from my psychologists.

Vampire graduate who majored in human psychology:

My pronouns are they/them.

Human recruiter:

Ah! I really have to tell the technical team to update the form. I have absolutely no problem with your gender identity or your species. But you only have textbook and secondhand insights into human psychology.

Unlike human psychologists, you don't know what it feels on the inside to be human. Observations and textbook knowledge don't tell you everything. Many things are left unspoken.

Vampire graduate:

While I cannot pretend to know exactly how it feels to be a human, I am willing to work as hard as I can to try to understand the complexities of the human mind and heart, perhaps even harder than the average human candidate. Through studying human literature, observing my own relationships with humans, and developing a strong emotional bond with my human friends and classmates, I have already developed a deep appreciation and understanding of the human psyche that goes beyond mere textbook knowledge or casual observations. While there are certain aspects of the human experience that I do not share, I am confident that my empathy and dedication to the field of psychology more than make up for any lack of firsthand experience.

Human recruiter:

Why should I recruit you when I can just recruit a human top scorer with the same grades?

Vampire graduate:

While a human with the same qualifications may also have a great understanding of humans, they are likely to be inherently biased by their own perspective. I, however, also have the advantage of being able to objectively analyze humans' strengths, weaknesses, and motivations from an outsider perspective.

Additionally, as a member of a paranormal race, I have the ability to manipulate human minds and feelings to improve mental well-being.

Human recruiter:

Mind manipulation? By now, you're stark raving bonkers! How do I know you won't put it to bad use?

Vampire graduate:

As a vampire, I understand the importance of being self-aware and responsible when it comes to my ability to manipulate the emotions and actions of others. I take care to only use this power in situations where it is necessary or beneficial, and to never misuse it for personal gain or at the expense of others. I also make sure to seek consent before using my ability on individuals, and I always prioritize their safety, comfort, and well-being.

Human recruiter:

That's what you'd say of course. I have no reason to trust you.

Vampire graduate:

I understand your skepticism and reticence. In a world dominated by humans, it is often difficult for vampires like myself to be seen as anything other than predators or manipulative. However, while it may be challenging, this does not mean that it is impossible for you to trust me. In the end, trust is built through communication and understanding, which is why I have been open and honest with you about my ability to manipulate minds and my intentions in using this ability.

Trust is also earned over time. I think if you give me a chance to prove myself on the job, with ample supervision at the start, you will be able to put aside your hesitations about working with a vampire by and by. The best way to find out if i'm good at my job is not through urban legends, groundless hearsay or unscientific mob opinion but to give me a shot and see how things work out.

I can even agree to a contract outlining specific guidelines for how I will use my vampire abilities, and what steps we can take to ensure that my mind manipulation is always used in a beneficial way.

Human recruiter:

Hmmm. Excellent pitch. But it sounds too good to be true. For one thing, I need to review the clinical evidence and adverse effects records later. And why should I be the first to hire a vampire as a psychologist? I prefer someone tried and tested.

Vampire graduate:

If you would like to work with experienced practitioners, that is certainly your prerogative. However, it is often beneficial to have a fresh perspective on a problem, and working with a vampire psychologist can provide that. Please consider what I have to offer.

Human recruiter:

It's true. We have clients who remain unyielding to all the therapy regimes out there. Psychology has improved by leaps and bounds but is still an inexact science. We do need fresh ideas.

Vampire graduate:

Please also remember other positive traits of the vampire race. For example, I can live for millennia in the absence of mishaps. During my long lifespan, I can examine numerous times more clients than human colleagues are capable of. The synergistic effect of that extensive experience and my unique perspective will empower me to generate breakthroughs in therapeutic innovations.

Human recruiter:

Cool, but the manner in which you're comparing yourself against your human colleagues before you even start your job is concerning. Psychologists are not melodramatic lone heroes. We often need to engage in teamwork with one another in order to serve clients in a therapeutic setting. This can be in the form of team discussions about a client's treatment plan or case, collaboration on the research of a particular issue or hypothesis, or even simply supporting each other as we help clients through treatment. Are you sure you'll be a good team player?

Vampire graduate:

That is a valid point. I apologize for the misimpression. While professional independence is important, collaboration and teamwork are equally essential. I don't view my vampire heritage as something that makes me better or worse than my colleagues, it's simply a part of who I am and a source of unique strengths and flaws. As a member of the greater psychological community, I am committed to collaborating with my colleagues to help our clients in the best possible way. Thank you for the reminder to be a supportive team player.

Human recruiter:

OK. A critical question: HOW do I know you won't succumb to the temptation of your overworked co-workers' and vulnerable clients' blood? You may have excellent grades for your degrees in human psychology, but what about vampire psychology? I can risk neither the life of whichever assessor I assign for your probationary period nor those of all the appointees you see in the reception area outside, who have entrusted their welfare to our practice.

Vampire graduate:

I can understand that the possibility of a vampire drinking human blood is a concern, especially in a field like psychology that works so closely with humans. However, you have nothing to worry about in that regard. I have testimonials from my professors—

Human recruiter:

Ah, yes. But the academic world is nothing like the messy real world of full-time working adults. Our educational system in Typingland is so infantile it requires hardly any practical experience like internships to earn a PsyD. Your self-control may be stretched to its limits by manipulative patients, vitriolic parents and unsuccessfully forestalled suicides, although I must say most clients in our practice are incredibly sweet in spite of their personal difficulties.

Vampire graduate:

The work of psychologists is indeed strenuous. Nevertheless, my lifestyle has given me a strong foundation for coping with the stress.

Human recruiter:

The lifestyle of a vampire?

Vampire graduate:

As a vampire, I understand that I have certain physical and psychological needs, but I have taken many steps to ensure that these are met in a safe and ethical way that don't involve living humans. My physical needs can be met through a diet of donated blood, while my emotional needs can be met through strong professional boundaries, self-care practices, and maintaining a strong support network.

I regularly engage in personal wellness practices such as meditation and physical activity to maintain my emotional and mental vitality. I also check in with my psychologist for vampires at least once a month, adjusting the frequency with the stress I experience and the intensity of the blood thirst at any given time. This helps to provide a safe space for me to express and process my thoughts, feelings, and experiences. It also gives me the opportunity to practice managing my blood thirst through a variety of behavioral and mindfulness techniques.

If you would like, I can arrange for my psychologist to send you an evaluation report.

Human recruiter:

I'm deeply impressed. (Claps and shakes head in awe.) I must say that I've never met a candidate, human or vampire, with your level of dedication. Quite a number of the psychologists I know have undergone depression themselves in the course of this emotionally draining and underpaid work but were late in seeking professional intervention. They need to learn a thing or two from newbies like you.

Vampire graduate:

Oh, why, thank you!

Human recruiter:

However—I'm afraid our clientele and the public won't share my sentiments.

You may think I've been demanding and prejudiced, but the others? They won't even sit down like this to sift through your personal history or examine your well-crafted arguments. Public attention to the fanciful layers and facets, okay, just layers and facets, to marginalized demographics like yours has been fleeting to start with and pretty much vaporized in a Tiktokified economy. Social media?? It's a wasteland made up of countless virtual enclaves out there. Every phone zombie just scrolls past news and advocacy messages that don't amuse them or address their own problems. And algorithms?? Gawd! Don't. Even. Get. Me. Started. On. Algorithms.

What people out there will get with their precious microseconds for us, though, is that our practice is employing a dangerous and powerful person, if they would even see you as a person at all, to work on fragile humans in despair.

Look, we don't need bloody fangs and the bat wing stuff to further complicate the ongoing uphill battle of getting psychological condition sufferers to walk through our doors.

Welp . . . I'm sorry for my bluntness. I tend to let down my guard when I'm not in front of clients. You're a fine young vampire who deserves better.

Vampire graduate:

(Momentary silence.)

(Soars over to fan human recruiter with their bat wings while slightly frowning to themselves.)

Those are indeed tough challenges. How about this? Let's start by offering virtual sessions for clients who would feel more comfortable initially meeting with me through a video conference. This can help to gradually introduce me to them in a non-threatening environment and allow them to get to know me better before they agree to meet in person.

We can complement that with an on-site "try-out" session for clients who remain hesitant to work with me or lack technological access or digital literacy. A try-out session could involve a brief, low-stakes meeting where clients can meet me, ask questions, and get a sense of my approach before deciding whether to continue with therapy. This can help to build trust and rapport with them, and give them a chance to see that I am interested in helping them and can provide effective treatment.

As we graduate to proper therapy sessions and make good progress on cases, we can highlight statistics, success stories and testimonials from past clients who have worked with me, and emphasize my ability to provide effective treatment. That is, with their consent and proper anonymization of course. Given your practice's reputation for integrity, the credibility of anonymized feedback should not be a problem.

Perhaps, I can even make up for the reputation risk at the beginning by offering fun, one-of-a-kind indoor levitation experiences that are a soother of the nerves and a break from the mundaneness of everyday life. The experiences would also attract potential clients otherwise resistant to treatment because of public perceptions of psychotherapists as rigid doctrine-driven professionals, who they think won't understand their unique struggles and decision rationale, like reasons for investing all their time in an unstable line of work or sticking with a violent spouse. They are stress relievers no one can find in self-help books or chat responses from even the best of AI technology!

Human recruiter:

W—ow. I'm tempted to try that levitation myself. I have to think about your proposals and discuss them with the others.

There's just one last thing that I don't understand, and anyone, whatever the temperature of their blood, can sense this coming from miles away.

Vampire graduate:

Please go ahead.

Human recruiter:

Why a career in human psychology? Wouldn't you face less discrimination and be more at home with vampire psychology?

Vampire graduate:

I've always been fascinated by humans and their unique abilities to adapt and survive without paranormal powers, especially the human capacity for empathy. It's been my dream since I was young to study the human mind, to explore the depths of their emotions and figure out what truly motivates them.

Many people think that clinical counselling is about entering broken minds, but it is simultaneously about tapping the power of the marvelous human stores of mental resilience, mental flexibility and boundless optimism.

The wonders and possibilities of human psychology energize me. They keep me going every day despite the uncertainties of my chosen career path and the suspicion and taunts I get. I am one of those who believe that you can flourish in the long term only if you are emotionally invested in what you do.

Human recruiter:

Even if you don't end up on our team, I have no regrets taking time to interview you. It's been a great pleasure exploring the awe-inspiring sides and possible futures of our field with you. This sounds cliché but I sincerely mean it: I wish you the very best in your psychologist career.

Cast

Human recruiter Human (with two AI -dubbed lines)

Vampire graduate AI (with human stand-ins in various instances)