#okayyyy i am being a baby it's not like this happens all the time so probably almost everyone is being thoughtful. deep breath time

[coquelicoq]

i could be convinced that it's acceptable for one person to use all of the washers in the communal laundry room at the same time. i wouldn't do it myself, but i don't know your life, maybe that is really making a difference to you. but i do hold that if you do that, you absolutely must set a timer and come back within let's say five minutes of the washers finishing, to switch your laundry to the dryers, thus freeing up the washers (all of them, which you are using at the same time) for one of the dozens of other people with whom you share the use of these appliances. i really feel like that is not asking that much? like you can leave your clothes in the washer half an hour after the load finishes, I GUESS (but again! how is this not rude!), but only if there are other open washers?? did you miss the 60% of kindergarten that is about sharing. what's not clickingggg

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

- I do not trust Sharon. Don't think I don't remember her being missing with the reader's parents. And then all of a sudden the dad is trying to kill his own daughter? And then Bucky and her's history? Not to mention the vial of poison she's so adamant on using? Oh, let's not forget that she got Bucky in the room, said make it quick and then Joey got in without any problem at all? Ma'am, I ain't no fool. Things aren't adding up and you're always at the scene of the crime.

- You know....with everything that's happened you'd think they'd be high alert and have someone be with the pregnant lady at all times. 2 people with her at all times should be the law but okayyyy.

“James, stop!”

Lady, I am begging you. Please let Bucky kill Shodinger man. He's saying to much and I am getting impatient 😭 Plus, he tried to pop the baby out of your womb like a zit on your back. RUDE.

Anyways, snaps for all the bad decisions made by everyone involved. 😂😂

Honor Among Thieves

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying Brooklyn’s most dangerous man was easy. Divorcing him proves to be a bit harder—particularly when you’re pregnant with his child.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Breeding kink. Hurt/Comfort/We-Almost-Just-Died-Sex. Morning sickness. Manslaughter. Brief coerced kissing. Beefy, mob boss Bucky is a possessive expectant father who just wants to make sure he knocked you up properly

Descriptions of violence throughout

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Bucky’s words reverberated like a shotgun’s report, skimming across two dozen feet of marble, glass, and stainless steel before reaching your ears on the opposite end of the room. He was standing at the threshold of the kitchen, and your back was turned to him. Lucky thing, too, or else he would’ve seen the smile threatening to tug at both ends of your lips—effectively blowing your cover.

“Really, I don’t have the slightest idea, Barnes,” you told him, and it took everything in you not to laugh. Having just narrowly preserved your composure, you continued, “You keep me locked in this prison all day and expect me not to find ways to entertain myself? Well, this is all it is.”

Like hell it was, you could already hear in Bucky’s head. Feeling him eye you up and down from the archway, take his first steps into the room, loosen his tie, most likely.

“Prison?” You registered a low scoff, and his voice was already so much closer than it’d been five seconds ago.

Your husband was striding as quickly as his smooth, dark, tailored suit would allow, and he was undressing as he walked. You could hear the clothes coming off but pretended not to notice. Instead staring more intently at the crab bisque simmering on the stove before you, you licked the spoon you were holding and hummed a little.

“Yes,” you answered, simply, “Prison.”

Bucky was by your side in no time at all. Up close, he smelled like rosemary, oakmoss, and gunpowder.

“Well, this is news to me,” he said. He dragged out the middle syllables of his words longer than was necessary, likely to make his move sidling up closer to you. The last sound had scarcely died in his throat more than a second or two before you felt an arm loop around your back. A hand coming to rest on your hip, then his voice, again:

“See, I never knew they built ‘prisons’ up in first-class penthouse apartments in Brooklyn. Must be pretty nice.”

Bucky stepped behind you, and you were half-certain the black suit jacket he’d come home wearing was fully removed. Again, you pretended not to see, or care.

“It’s a metaphor, James.” But your voice wavered.

“A metaphor?” Bucky’s head sank into the soft groove between your neck and your shoulder, and he kissed it.

“Yes.”

Your mouth made a sound more akin to a breath than a real, enunciated word, and you knew Bucky felt it too. He sensed this headstrong, no-bullshit façade of yours was sure to come crumbling apart any second, and each new brush of his hands and lips would be making it happen. Knowing this, he wasn’t in a rush to get the rest of his clothes off. He did, however, start to toy with yours.

“Tell me more. Am I really holding you hostage, doll?”

You took a ladle and started to stir, trying to stay cool. Meanwhile, your husband tugged gently on your dress.

“Hostage, housewife, same thing,” you muttered, low.

For once, it was Bucky’s turn to break character, as he laughed. It was short-lived and sweet, and he pressed another kiss to the skin of your neck, as if in apology.

“Right, right. I forgot. You were forced to marry me.”

“Right,” you shook your head, just slightly emboldened by the way you’d made him crack, if only for a moment, “I’m forced to marry you, move into this horrific little shanty in Brooklyn”—gesturing to the multi-million dollar apartment surrounding you both—“and then you leave me here, all by myself, with nothing to do while you go play Godfather with your mobster friends. It’s not fair.”

By the tail end of that last sentence, you and Bucky both were already grinning a little, coming to terms with just how ridiculous it sounded when you phrased it like that. Still, your husband seemed game to keep the bit going.

“Now that’s just not true,” he said, tone all faux offense.

You felt the soft snap of a ribbon coming undone, and in a second realized it was the satin bow holding the back of your dress together. The fabric loosened, and Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, over your front—of course.

“I didn’t leave you ‘by yourself’ at all, doll,” he said, and suddenly, his palms were fanning out, over something, “Gave you this baby to keep you company, didn’t I?”

The ‘something’ he was touching now was your belly. All soft and smooth and protruding out in a perfect little globe beneath your dress, no bigger than when he’d left for work that morning. Bucky treated the bump like it was a novelty all the same—like he was seeing it for the first time and couldn’t believe he was actually the one responsible for making it get like that. It had gotten to be a hobby of his, nearly, just how much he loved watching it grow. He had his fingers splayed out across your tummy virtually every chance he could get, and that didn’t stop whether you were out in public or sharing a moment in the comfort of home; he couldn’t get enough.

Which was why Bucky was right when he’d said you knew exactly what you were doing when he came home that day. You knew just the kind of effect that wearing a tight, white dress while cooking dinner would have on him, and you hoped it would rile him up just like this: with his hands roaming over every inch of your body, making soft, sweet circles along the swell of your belly, and kissing your neck again and again. Biting some, too. Getting so worked up he was all but gnawing at the skin as he drank in your scent and got lost to pure instinct.

If it wasn’t clear that Bucky had had a breeding kink before, you saw it written plain as day across his face every morning and night since he’d first learned you were pregnant. Like all the life force within him was just a byproduct of the knowledge that you were his—and this baby, growing bigger each day, was a mix of you both.

You hated to say it, but fatherhood suited your assassin-trained, mob-heading, bloodlusting husband better than anyone could have predicted in a million years or more.

Presently, Bucky flipped you around and sank to his knees. He slid you over to the counterspace area, away from the stove, and made sure to flip each knob to ‘off’ to make sure there wasn’t a chance you’d get burned. You cast one last look at the crab bisque and knew at once your hard work would have to be put on the back burner for now, because Bucky wasn’t hungry for that.

Still, you kicked a foot in soft, muted protest when you felt him slide his hands up your legs, under your dress, and start to reach for your panties. You let out a breath.

“I spent two hours perfecting the seasoning on that, Barnes,” you chided him, gently and without much admonition in your voice as you pointed to the soup, “You say you want a good little housewife but won’t even leave me un-fucked long enough to try any food I make!”

“And I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky replied, head disappearing beneath your skirt so he could take your underwear off with his teeth instead.

But, much like your reproach, your husband’s strained apology held less than half of its professed sincerity. Your blue cotton panties were discarded in a second, your hips pushed back against the cool white marble behind it, and Bucky, almost too cheekily, brought his head back up from underneath your dress just to steal a quick look at your belly, then up at you. He was smiling.

“Anything you make tastes amazing, honey. Daddy just needs to eat a little something beforehand, that okay?”

He already knew what you’d say. The sweet, shit-eating grin hovering over your lower half knew all that and more. Bucky just loved to tease, taking the hem of your dress between his index and thumb, and rubbing all the more tenderly, murmuring again, ‘That alright with you, pretty girl?’ and ‘My wife likes getting tonguefucked in the kitchen, doesn’t she?’ while his breaths spread over you.

You nodded that you did. Momentarily forgetting the three-course meal you’d had planned for him since early that morning, you let your knees fall limply apart from one another, and Bucky’s broad form filled the space in between. The fabric of your dress was snug, especially so over your belly. Your husband pushed the material up your hips and let it rest just high enough to expose your warmth to him. Angling your hips back the slightest bit, trailing his fingers up your thighs and inside them, gently, Bucky let out a low groan against your body, and you could feel the vibrations of it travel up your spine.

“I really am mean for keeping you here all day, aren’t I?” he teased, sliding the tips of his fingers between your glistening folds and watching you jolt in response.

“So— so mean. Bucky, please.”

Your voice was far more hoarse than circumstances would seem to beget; your husband had just eaten you out that morning. Nevertheless, your hand was trembling as it reached for his head. Your pull was taut and dire. While your fingers threaded in through his hair and your body opened itself more and more for him, you could feel that kind smile, even if you couldn’t see it. Frankly, the swelling of eight-and-a-half months made it difficult to see much of anything below the waist, but Bucky made sure to let you know he was there. By holding your hand, skimming his lips against your skin, starting, just then, to sink his fingers in toward the heat of your body, and softly pulling his face away so he could look up at you.

“Baby?” he breathed.

Your eyes locked with his as he slid two fingers inside you. The stretch alone was enough to put your brain on the fritz, but, fighting the first shockwaves of pleasure:

“Y-Yeah?”

He withdrew. Pressed them back in and let out a grunt.

“I need you to do something for me.”

You couldn’t fathom what that might be, but you nodded anyway. ‘Anything’ was what you managed to choke out.

“And you might not like it, doll.”

Your eyes widened some.

“O— O-Okay, what?”

Bucky’s fingers curled inside you, and a short, sharp streak of dizzying pleasure pulsed through your body. Your knees felt weak, and your mind even worse, but with what little resolve you had left, you were able to keep your eyes entirely open and fastened to his. A look that struck you as almost bittersweet crossed your husband’s features, and you saw his gaze soften again.

“I need you to wake up,” he said, calmly.

“What?”

Your toes curled tight underneath you, and the warmth between your legs leapt up to over a thousand degrees.

“Melaya, I need you to wake up.”

At the same time, your blood ran cold in your veins. Surely, you couldn’t be hearing him right if the voice he used was so gruff and low—and laden with a Russian lilt.

“Bucky? What— What do you mean?”

But you knew. Or suspected something of it anyway.

Now the sound from your own throat was hardly one that you recognized as yours, so shrill and high and strange—what could he mean by that? Why was he watching you in that way? Your husband wasn’t smiling so brightly anymore, and the once-gratifying conflagration between your legs had grown to an almost scorching degree, no longer nice, generous, or pleasurable in the slightest.

“We need you to wake up now, honey. Right now.”

His tone, too, was distorted. Grating.

“Bucky, I-I don’t underst—”

“WAKE UP!”

“WAKE UP!”

Natasha shook you hard, and it hurt.

She didn’t mean for it to. She just needed you up and out of bed, and you’d been asleep for almost fourteen hours.

You started at the fifth or sixth shake, nearly punching yourself in the face when you tried yanking a set of covers up and over your head and discovered, shortly, that there was none. You were splayed out on a bed in an as-yet unfamiliar home—Steve’s new place—and, while you slept, you’d kicked all of the blankets you’d been given the night before off your body and onto the floor.

Your eyes were wide as saucers as they darted to Nat’s.

There was no need to say what had happened—she knew these dreams were getting worse by the day.

It’d been a week since you fled your Brooklyn apartment in an all-out terror. A week since a senseless, short-sighted idea on your part had led to the discovery that your husband was once part of a HYDRA sleeper cell whose activation phrase turned him into an agent of total destruction at will. A week since you’d seen a half dozen bodies litter your living room floor, more still being bludgeoned by the so-called ‘Winter Soldier,’ as Bucky had formerly been known. A week since you’d sobbed in Natasha’s arms and begged her not to let you go back. A week since you’d been obliged to hide out in Steve Rogers’ new bachelor pad upstate, because, frankly, there was nowhere else you could safely live until this whole ordeal with Bucky was settled—if it ever would be.

A full week since you’d learned you were pregnant, too.

As far as you knew, your husband was wholly unaware of this fact, and of Steve’s most recent real estate purchase up in Buffalo, and you’d been existing in a semi-serene and largely dissociated state for the past seven days.

Your gaze adjusted to the light, and you blinked up at Nat, feeling damp in just about every place on your body. You looked down and found yourself drenched in sweat.

“Hydrate. Please.”

It wasn’t so much a request as it was a standing order: Nat holding out a glass of water and instructing you to drink. Though your first instinct was to make a face and shake your head—you’d found that any new fluids in your body this early in the morning would only get thrown back up when you made your first frantic trip to the toilet—you accepted it anyway. You drank three big gulps to appease the woman standing next to the bed, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled

“I’m gonna go puke now,” you said.

“Aim for inside the toilet bowl if you can,” Steve called out from the doorway. By the look on his face, you’d been doing a pretty shit job of aiming vomit lately.

“My bad, Rogers.”

You had a hand on your stomach, slowly easing back up into a seated position, when you heard something being flung across the room, followed by a ‘HEY!’ and a crash.

“Your aim sucks, too, Romanoff,” Steve griped, loudly, “And I was kidding. She can puke wherever she wants.”

By the door, a hefty hardcover book lay open on the floor. Apparently Nat’s options for projectiles had been limited.

“All good, Rogers,” you offered anyway. Fighting a smirk.

You were starting to stand, and your head felt as if you’d just taken your first steps off a rocking boat. Your other hand jumped to your mouth, and you muttered, ‘Fuck’ before brushing past Nat and her outstretched arms.

She held your hair while Steve retrieved the glass of water, as well as a towel. The unsightly first trimester ritual proceeded as it had for all of the last week, with Nat rubbing circles in your back and Steve making well-meaning but completely useless live commentary like, ‘Babies are a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?’ At the conclusion of each new stupid remark, Natasha would shoot a dirty look his way, but you never let her shoo him away. Through no conscious choice of your own, Steve had become something of a comfort blanket over the course of the past chaotic days. At the very least, you two were no longer at each other’s throats flinging accusations and exorbitantly-priced tumblers in the other’s direction, which was a marked improvement from where you were the day after you and Bucky’s wedding.

At length, you lifted your head from the toilet, and he daubed at your cheek with the towel—mostly just trying to wipe off spit and your own queasy-looking expression. He succeeded in clearing away just the former, but you forced a smile all the same, then shared it with Natasha.

Nat couldn’t smile back. In fact, the grimace on her face only etched even deeper, and her forehead creased.

“This is a horrible time to be asking you this, I know—”

“Nat, please.” Steve groaned.

Nat, what? There wasn’t a lot more that could catch you off guard after all the shit you’d come to see that week. Still, Nat’s breaths were both measured and slow, and you could see she was chewing on the inside of her cheek like she wasn’t quite sure how best to phrase her words. This, coming from one of the most astute legal minds this side of the Hudson River, gave you pause.

“Ask anything. I’m pretty numb, if you haven’t noticed.” You rapped on the side of your head for comedic effect, but neither Natasha nor Steve laughed or cracked a grin.

“How do you feel about filing for divorce tomorrow?”

At the sound of Nat’s words, you felt the bile jump back up your throat. You knew there wasn’t enough food or fluid to make much of anything now, but all the same, you craned your neck back over the toilet and retched. When nothing came out, as expected, you turned back.

“What?”

Natasha looked a little ill herself, but still, she continued.

“How do you feel about just…fast-tracking a divorce from him and taking off new? We’ll talk assets later.”

Assets? Fast-track? Divorce? What the fuck?

“What the fuck, Nat?” you repeated as much out loud.

It normally wasn’t your thing to be so blunt with her, but the inquiry certainly seemed to invite some extra candor. You swiped at your mouth for any excess spit that might’ve trickled out, crudely, and in a second, Steve was handing you the towel. Then helping you to your feet, holding your arm and lower back in a grip you could feel was secure. You were unsteady on your legs, so he and Natasha guided you over to the sink, where you could regain your bearings and freshen up a bit. Sneaking a look at your reflection in the mirror was a bad idea; your face was sallow, and the rest of your body had every appearance of being horribly weak, for lack of a better word. You caught a glimpse of a gash sitting just above your left temple and immediately looked away. Stupidly, you hoped Steve and Nat hadn’t seen it.

“He did that to you,” Nat said without missing a beat.

You winced, and you washed your hands, not looking up.

“I thought you said it wasn’t him. Soldat, you told me.” And for a second, your eyes flickered to Steve, whose expression was a touch more sympathetic, if not visibly discomfited now. Like he didn’t want to speak for once.

He did, anyway: “Doesn’t matter if it was Winter or him, really. Point is he hurt you while trying to protect y—”

“And yet, you asked me to forgive him just last week for killing my dad in the same type of rage,” you replied, and instantly regretted the accusatory tone you’d taken on.

Your anger was misdirected at Steve. It wasn’t his fault for sharing the truth about your husband’s—his best friend’s—past when you’d asked him. These were queries you’d made, helping to form justifications for your own decision to stay after what had happened in Madripoor. Obviously, Steve would be biased to help support his friend in a time of need. But now things were different; Bucky had never been activated as soldat and ended up hurting someone he’d loved before. Steve was free to change his mind after seeing that happen and urge you to leave, or at least reconsider, your marriage to Bucky.

The second look you gave him attempted to convey as much, a bit more apologetic as he and Natasha led the way out of the bathroom. Steve smiled and held your arm again, though you probably didn’t need it. You walked downstairs to the kitchen together. Over by the toaster, Sam was inspecting a charred bagel with a scowl

“Rogers, you really need to ditch this shit,” he said, gesturing to the rusted metal contraption that appeared to be from 1918, and had just burnt two bagels to a crisp.

“It was a gift from a friend, piss off,” Steve replied, grinning a little. Reaching for the blackened bread roll and even going so far as to take a bite, crunching loudly.

“Did your friend happen to fight in World War II?” Nat asked. She lent one look to the archaic machine but said nothing further, opting instead to take a seat at the kitchen table, where a sea of papers was strewn about.

Then, to you, “Come. Sit.”

Somewhere in your tentative stroll from where you stood to where she sat, and in the middle of the men’s toaster bickering, Sam called out that he’d have bacon and eggs ready in a second. Steve offered up his singed sesame bagel in the interim, and you told him no thanks. With a still slightly throbbing skull and a nauseous gait, you took the chair next to Nat’s and looked down at her papers.

Honestly, you thought your present condition might warrant some leeway when it came to holding off on the heavy-hitting topics first thing, but, to your surprise, Natasha slid a crisp white packet over almost instantly.

“Nat, what the fuck?” you groaned for the second time.

“Read it. Give it a second to digest, then we can—”

“No!” you cut in, pushing the packet back to her with a little more force than you’d meant, “I-I can’t. Not now.”

On the very first page, in bold and capitalized typeface, there was printed a brief string of words you’d never wanted—or thought you would ever need—to see:

‘VERIFIED COMPLAINT: ACTION FOR DIVORCE’

“It’s just the petition. No harm in taking a look,” Nat said.

You could hear a faintly gentler tone in her voice, even as you shook your head and looked away from the papers.

“I don’t want to. I can’t do this right now.” You kept shaking your head for a couple seconds after, turning your gaze instead to the bay window of Steve’s kitchen.

A nice, sprawling yard stretched as far as you could see. In the distance, a fuzzy white horizon was punctuated the slightest bit by the outline of a wood fence, but apart from that, the land was empty. The lot was secluded. Happy and effervescent in a nearly cloudless sky, the midmorning sun cast its rays without so much as the threat of a storm’s hinderance. You fixed your eyes on the clear expanse above and silently wished it would rain.

Before more than a minute or two had passed like that, Sam was approaching the table with two platters. Steve balanced four more by himself, watching the sway of one plate of scrambled eggs in his arms with a wary look before setting each one of the dishes on the table.

“Bon appétit,” Steve said, butchering his French just about as badly as Sam had the bagels. You and Nat thanked them both anyway and started clearing off the table, pushing papers away in favor of steaming plates. Sam and Steve sat down, and all of you began to eat.

While you dutifully piled on each scoop of eggs, bacon, sausage links, biscuits, gravy, and grits—far more than you knew you could feasibly consume—you wished again for a rainstorm, and maybe a quiet breakfast. One that wasn’t marred by talks of legal separation and lengthy battles in court, if you could help it at all. To this end, and perhaps against your body’s best interest, you shoveled two supersized spoonfuls of egg in your mouth, so that if Nat tried reviving those subjects again, you could put off the conversation by simply continuing to chew. You felt your stomach turn inside you but, stubbornly, ate more.

You had just swallowed it all, about to make way for a warm, flaky buttermilk biscuit, when a sound cut in, and your belly flipped again. Your teeth had barely sunk into the bread a second when Nat set her own food aside, then used two fingers to push something toward you.

“Just skim it. Let me explain what the process can be,” she said, tapping her index on the first line and meeting your eyes as if to plead. She had to have known she’d be met with resistance—from you, of course, but also Steve. She raised a defensive hand to him before he even cut in:

“Come the fuck on, Nat. Will you give her a break?”

“I’m saying this for her sake! I’m doing it for her.”

“And throwing divorce papers in her face over breakfast is really the best way of going about it? Is that for her?”

Sam swallowed whatever he’d been chewing on, glanced down at the top paper, and seemed to brace himself.

“Guys, is now really the right time—” he started.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Steve barked over him.

Natasha ignored the plainly disdainful look from the latter, lifted her hand off the paperwork and instead trained her gaze solely on you. Just like she had in Zurich. Focusing intently on your face, ignoring whatever Steve or Sam were saying in the moment, she turned to you and found your expression was stale. Unmoving. Frankly, half of what was running through your mind right then was how badly you wanted to puke again. As if the eggs had turned rotten in your gut the second they reached their destination in your GI tract, you felt a heavy, oppressive fog of nausea taking shape between your ears, and you just wanted everyone to stop talking.

Sam and Steve continued on without a hitch, agreeing vaguely but also appearing to bicker over other things, like when was the most appropriate time to have this conversation. Natasha was leaning in, reaching for your hand this time, and you knew she meant well. You would bet any large sum of money there wasn’t a malicious bone in her body, and she was doing this for your benefit. All the same, you were grateful when the front door swung back on its hinges, and a new person walked in. Nat, Sam, and Steve all suspended their conversations.

“Hey, wh—” the blissfully unaware, semi-stranger began.

“Sharon!” Steve cried, “Would you tell Romanoff she’s being a goddamn pest with no sense of boundaries?”

Sharon halted at the threshold of the house, skating a look between Nat and Steve at first, then Steve and Sam, then just at you. The look didn’t linger for long, and before you knew it, she was setting down a fistful of grocery bags and twisting her mouth into a frown.

“Will you shut up, Steve?” was her only response.

Sam rose from his chair and pointed as if to say, ‘Yeah, that’ before joining her in the foyer to help carry in the Wegmans bags. Natasha leaned back in her chair with a vaguely pleased look, and Steve just rolled his eyes. He slapped his palm overtop the stack of divorce papers still laying before you and, seemingly undeterred, continued,

“Do you think it’s fair for her to force divorce papers on this poor soul—” pointing to you, the poor soul, apparently, “—when it’s been a week since she left?”

Sharon started handing off the frozen stuff first, sliding a box of Stouffer’s across the counter to Sam, who then deposited it in the freezer. These exchanges took place in relatively quick succession, with Sharon only chancing a look toward the kitchen table once or twice as they did.

“I think she should do whatever the hell she wants,” she said, “And I think their divorce is none of our business.”

Fair enough take. One that you could respect, at the very least, even if you weren’t certain she particularly cared for you at all. You reckoned she had no reason to, and on the whole, appeared to be a pretty reserved person.

You wanted to add a word in her defense, reiterate to Steve that he didn’t have to go to bat for you, the poor, defenseless soul, right now. Instead of being able to speak, though, you felt an upsurge of something heavy in your throat. You clamped a hand to your mouth again, cheeks flushing with the heady sensation and also out of embarrassment, then pushed your chair back and stood.

“I��� gotta—” you stammered, just audible to the table, through the wall your fingers had made over your lips.

You sprinted up the stairs without another word.

The first trimester ritual repeated, and ten minutes later, you re-emerged from the bathroom feeling two big spoonfuls of scrambled eggs lighter and still none the happier, healthier, or wiser. You took a peek in the full-length mirror at the other end of the room and discerned from a distance of ten feet that you looked like dogshit.

You flopped down on the bed face-first, heedless of the pool of sweat that still encompassed roughly half of it, and let out a weak, muffled breath into the sheets. Someone had been gracious enough to replace all the blankets and pillows you’d kicked off last night. When you heard a knock on the door, it sounded a lot like Nat’s.

You rolled to the side, eyes screwed shut in frustration.

“If you’ve come to tell me my marriage is a fucking dumpsterfire, I agree completely, Natasha. I’m dumb.”

A little huff of a half-laugh sounded from the doorway. You opened your eyes and saw Sharon standing there.

Up close, she looked a little paler than you’d remembered seeing her last in Switzerland. Soft beads of perspiration dotted her neckline from what had likely been a hot and arduous journey walking up the driveway with all the food, and presently, she seemed tired. She wore a simple gingham blouse that had her eyes shining with vibrance, though, and both hands, you noticed, were full—she had a mug in one and a spoon in the other. She smiled kindly.

“The mob tends to have that effect,” she said, strolling in. Setting the mug on the nightstand and easing the spoon into it, stirring, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You had no idea what all she knew about your marriage. You weren’t so sure you could extricate yourself from all the blame of having the thing go up in flames in four short weeks. Nevertheless, you smiled back and offered up something good-humored in return, like, well, I’m not exactly winning wife of the fucking year anytime soon.

Again, Sharon chuckled. It was small. She leaned back against the nearest armchair and, pointing to the cup she’d left to rest on the nightstand, said in a soft voice,

“Give that a minute. It’s hot.”

You glanced over and saw a little string that you guessed was attached to a teabag sitting at the bottom of the mug. The drink smelled like chamomile, maybe. You sat up, readjusted your pyjama top, then slid your socked feet underneath you so you could scoot closer to the edge of the bed. On a deeper inhale, you decided the tea was definitely chamomile. And too hot, as Sharon said.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” she replied. Letting out that funny little chuckle of hers—one too low to be considered a full laugh, but very close—and then, seeming to realize what she said might’ve sounded off, “Like— I heard what happened with Schröder. Him trying to drug you after the wedding and all…that. I— I’m sorry.”

Bad time to be making jokes, she appeared to chastise herself, but you just nodded along with the faintest grin.

“It’s OK. I’d pay money to be knocked the fuck out now.”

You grinned bigger, and she smiled too.

“It should make you sleepier, if you wanted to nap.”

You replied that you would, in fact, love to be unconscious right now if it meant not having to put up with all this bullshit morning sickness, and you slowly reached for the mug. Sharon stood up, and while you took your first sips, she fluffed the pillows behind you.

She was right. The tea felt like a hug. You settled under the covers and brought the cup to your lips once more, taking two big draughts before setting the drink aside. Yeah, that shit’ll put you right out, no drugs needed. You sank even further under the sheets and watched Sharon hover between the bed and the doorway, looking around as if trying to find something to do—some way to make herself feel more useful, if you had to guess from the pensive look in her eyes. Finally, she settled closer to the door and gave you one, fairly sanguine look. The warmth of your drink had already begun to nestle inside your weary bones, and your eyelids felt heavier. Still, you tried to return the sunny look before getting fully settled.

“Thanks again, Sharon. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She started to leave. In fact, she’d already made it three-fourths out of the room when something stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to you, and you looked up.

“This…probably doesn’t mean a whole lot coming from me, but—whatever you decide to do with Bucky…is okay. We’ll support you, whether you choose to raise this baby with him or do…whatever it is you want to do. Don’t let Nat or Steve or Sam or anybody tell you differently. It’s your choice, y’know, whether you wanna stay married…”

Sharon trailed off, and somewhere inside, you could tell she meant to finish with words like, ‘…even if you didn’t get to make the choice to get married in the first place.’ You appreciated it. You beamed with just your head poking out from over the covers and thanked her again.

And, before she left, for the second time, she stopped. She walked over to the nightstand and bent slightly at the waist, just enough to set something small down. You turned to the side and saw a vial—a minuscule tube—on the surface. Your eyes widened, realizing what it was.

“Sam picked it up in Madripoor. He said Steve had given this to you…to, uh, give to Schröder, and I thought you should have it back,” she said, pausing, “Just in case.”

You eyed the little vial of poison on the nightstand and nodded, still not completely understanding. Your head throbbed, your stomach was still turning, churning. Your brain was about ten blinks away from logging off entirely and drifting to sleep. All you could do, then, was repeat what Sharon had said as you exchanged one final look.

“Just in case.”

Your eyes closed, and you fell asleep very soon after.

You couldn’t have been out for more than an hour; you were sure of it. However, the next time you glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, you saw it read 11:04.

P.M.

Shit.

SHIT.

That chamomille tea was no fucking joke.

Just as your thoughts drifted back to Sharon, the conversation you’d shared, the drink she’d given you, the poison she’d left behind for you to keep, you heard her voice all over again—and now, not just in your own head.

Presently, she was standing over your bed again, though the room was much darker this time around. She pressed a finger to her lips, hey, please, please, be quiet, alright? At first you wanted to make a sharp and strangled sound. A cry for help? You weren’t sure. Didn’t know. Couldn’t see very much of the woman at all, except for the outline of her face from the moonlight streaming in through the window. She stared and ‘shh’ed’ some more.

And you were contemplating yelling out a loud obscenity in response to it when next she cut in, markedly gentler:

“Keep it quick. Nat and the guys will be back in thirty.”

You blinked hard into the darkness and waited for your vision, or else your still-missing voice, to return. It didn’t. You just stared back, eyelids going up and down and up and down like a goddamn idiot gone sluggish off one too many Quaaludes, and it was several seconds more before she gestured behind her, into the shadows.

You tensed under the covers, chock-full of terror. You squinted, and shrank, and might’ve nearly pissed yourself were it not for the intervening force of a face.

A familiar face.

Bucky’s face.

You leapt up from the bed, displacing each one of Sharon’s cool and careful warnings from your mind all at once. You didn’t mean to, and as soon as she’d shushed you again, you shut your mouth. Fell still. Sharon slipped out of the room, reminding you both, again, that you had to be quiet, and you had to be quick. Then it was just you and Bucky. Silence and slightly less than five feet of space between you two. Then, shortly, no space to spare at all, as you ran to meet each for a hug a second later.

Your head struck his chest, and it was hard. That, alongside the python’s squeeze he wrapped around your body, hugging you to him in the tightest embrace imaginable, had your mind reeling, skull pulsing just a bit. You pulled back and stood smiling up at Bucky, whose eyes were wide, drinking the sight of you in.

‘Are you hurt?’ were his first words.

You shook your head that you weren’t, still unable to talk.

“Why are you— Who— who brought you— I didn’t—”

It seemed Bucky was equally hard-pressed to form a sentence himself, while his eyes were roaming wildly, all over you. Looking for bumps or bruises or cuts, whatever the wound might have been. He stumbled to the lamp and flicked it on. You tilted your head left, reflexively.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said. Sudden and swift, “I’m good.”

But you didn’t move your head too far to the right, either, for fear he might see the cut above your temple—the one soldat had caused when he’d pushed you to the floor, trying to protect you from a threat he couldn’t see.

As it was, your husband seemed to be too much in shock to see anything else apart from what stood immediately in front of him. He hugged you again. He kissed the crown of your head. He constricted your body so tight in his arms you felt a pressure start to build behind your eyes, and suddenly you weren’t so much pulling away as you were wrenching your body from him. When you met Bucky’s gaze again, the sweet blue irises were glossy.

“Nat wouldn’t say where you were, just that you were safe and needed to be…be alone for a while, but I—” He stopped, and it was as if he couldn’t even finish with the words, because his breath was stuck in his throat and his eyes were stinging too much. He looked down, briefly.

You wanted to reach for his hand but hesitated. He took yours a second later, holding extra tight as he continued:

“I thought I’d— thought you might’ve…left. I don’t know. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and then she— Sharon, she called me tonight, said you were here, so— so—”

You felt a pang of guilt holding his gaze, seeing how all the hurt that had come to accumulate behind those eyes over the last week went spilling, at length, into emotions he was either too overcome or sleep-deprived to express. The weight of this suffocated him, made him extra quick to speak his mind but slow to make sense of just about anything that was coming out of his mouth. He stopped, sucked in a breath, then pinched your hand in his, and you didn’t know what to do. You had no idea what to say.

“I was scared, Bucky.”

It sounded pathetic coming out of your mouth. Your husband nodded as though you’d just said the most profound thing in the world. His knuckles went white from just how hard he was gripping your hand, his head bobbed along in agreement, and for a moment, you winced to think that he might hug you again. Instead, the fingers tangled between yours just made a tighter knot.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You scared me,” you added, voice wavering.

Your left hand was going numb. You didn’t want to give him pause—possibly hurt his feelings—by freeing your touch from his, but that grip was brutal. Deathly rigid and unforgiving. Thoughts of Brooklyn and Madripoor came flooding back; Bucky was so much stronger than he realized. His tone, in contrast, was dulcet and soft.

“I didn’t know I’d get like that. I should’ve told you, doll.”

“I shouldn’t have tried the activation in the first place.”

You shouldn’t have tried digging into Bucky’s past all. When all there seemed to be at every turn was a brand new way for him to hurt you, or the people you loved, maybe there came a time when you had to stop asking questions altogether. Maybe that was what his mother and all the women who’d gone before her had known to do, what you had been too stupid to see all along. There was no knowing these men at all, only taking them as they were and learning to cope with what they became.

Bucky shook his head.

“No, doll, it’s not on you,” he murmured low. Still forceful

Thankfully, he released your hand to cup your cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. You felt your pulse in your palm, throbbing from where he’d held it. When he let go the second time, his expression was considerably softer.

“Listen, I’ll take you home, we can talk things over. As long as I know you’re safe, it doesn’t have to— to—”

Hey. He was already halfway toward the door before he realized you weren’t following him. He turned and gestured forward. He beckoned you, brows drawing in.

“Baby? C’mon.”

You didn’t budge.

Your feet were rooted in place, as though cemented to the floor. No matter how much you wanted to appease him, go along with whatever he asked, you couldn’t. You shook your head, and Bucky tilted his own, confused.

“Baby?”

“I’m leaving, Bucky.”

You couldn’t hear your own words slipping out between your teeth, only the blood rushing through your ears. Bucky stopped and turned to face you completely.

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What— what do you mean, ‘you’re leaving’?”

“I want a divorce.”

That part you did hear yourself. You wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t seen the light break off from Bucky’s eyes, expression going limp the instant your words registered with him. You nearly wished you hadn’t said them at all, seeing just how far his face fell and how hurt he looked by them—but quietly, from somewhere more rational-headed inside yourself, there was a voice reminding the rest of you that it needed to be done. You couldn’t keep pretending like this wasn’t what had had to come next. What you’d been skirting with Nat all day and hadn’t been able to bring yourself to admit before now.

Your husband still didn’t seem to be computing it fully. He walked closer to you, and his gait was unsteady.

“Divorce?”

Your vision was bleary; you hadn’t even realized tears had begun to brim at your waterline as you watched him.

“It’s what we need, Bucky,” you could barely get it out.

“I don’t,” he shot back, not missing a beat, “I don’t.”

“It’s what I need.”

“You don’t mean that.”

His voice was hoarse, face shifting from lax incredulity to one of a wince—screwed up in a way that said he felt ill. You shook your head but couldn’t look away from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeated.

“It’s what I want,” you pressed on, just as sick yourself.

“You said what you wanted was me.” Again, Bucky’s voice splintered, and you could feel the pain in it.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.”

Gritting your teeth, unsure where else to fix your stare on his face but those eyes—while your own betrayed their feelings too easily, fraught with wet, rolling tears—you shouldn’t have been surprised when his went wider.

“What are you talking about?”

The question was short, sharp, and biting, spoken with such haste as might be mistaken for anger, but the eyes softened his look at once. The anguish painting them now as he stared back at you were a proof, beyond a doubt, that it was betrayal, not rage, which steered him. He turned, and it was as if he couldn’t see a thing but you; his elbow clipped the lamp and knocked it over, but still, he just stared. In turn, the ceramic appliance rolled onto its side, toppled the mug and the vial beside it, and all three went crashing to the floor. Bucky didn’t blink.

“Wh—” he started again, but you didn’t hear the rest.

You remembered Sharon. Heard a flash of her last admonition in your head—be quiet, be quick—and without thinking, you fell to your knees. You tried retrieving what pieces of chipped lamp and shattered mug you could, quickly. You spotted the small vial on the floor and shoved it in a pocket. Your hands swept over the broken pieces without any real idea of what you were doing—all except needing to clean Bucky’s mess—and then swiftly, stupidly, you tried picking it up by yourself.

Of course, a shard cut you. The little slit that was left in its wake could have been no wider than a fraction of an inch, but still, it bled. You looked down at the cut, just then starting to sprout red from left to right along the side of your palm, when a new sight crossed your vision. It was fast, too. All but thoughtless in the way it broke in, gripping your hand in his, and yanking you to your feet. Bucky hadn’t seen that you’d cut yourself, it seemed, and, out of instinct, had grabbed your hand to help you up. As before, his grasp was like a vice, and his thumb pressed right inside the lacerated flesh, sending a whole new maelstrom of pain shooting up your wrist and arm. Now, as then, he was heedless of his strength and his sheer, brute force, that he didn’t even see the effect of his grip. He just held on, held you, tighter, tighter, and—

“STOP!” you shrieked.

You shoved him off. Pried his touch off your palm and gripped your forearm in your other hand and pored over the sight, seeing the gash almost doubled in size from just where Bucky’s finger had sunk into the fresh wound. You let out a sharp, muffled cry through lips that tried to stay closed—remembering Sharon again. You shook your head, clenched your jaw, and tore off the other direction.

And when your husband reached out, eyes wide with their own shock and apologies, ‘Baby, fuck, I’m so sorr—’ you threw him off again. With your non-bleeding palm, you thrust your hand against his chest and pushed hard:

“Don’t touch me!”

When he reached for you again, as if by force of habit, you held up a defensive arm and sobbed out, ‘Stop!’

‘Don’t touch me, don’t—don’t—don’t fucking touch me.’

You screamed it. You didn’t mean to. Thinking only vaguely of the need to be quiet, and almost entirely on the stabbing pain in your hand, the imprint of Bucky’s touch on your body, and the blood trickling down your forearm, you darted into the bathroom and threw the door closed behind you. You locked it. You meant to.

Twenty minutes might as well have been twenty years in Bucky Barnes’ mind. In a moment like this, following yet another supreme fuck up on his part, he felt powerless. He had had to fight the instinct to barge into the next room over with every fiber of his being, and, making fists by his sides and pacing the floor and hating himself was all that seemed capable of occupying his mind just then.

He’d knocked on the bathroom door at least ten times. He’d been ignored each time, no matter the duration.

He still had your blood on his thumb, and it made him ill.

You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.

While he uncurled his hand from a fist just long enough to stare at the streaks of red stretched over his finger, he heard those words replay over and over again in his head. He’d said it—swore it—himself, and still your blood was turning a cool, dark, dry shade of crimson on his thumb.

This wasn’t how he’d meant for any of this to go. Still, notwithstanding his best intentions, none of it mattered. He’d seen a sincere look of fear in your eyes looking up at him, and nothing in the world would change what he’d done, or who he was. He’d caused you pain tonight, last week—though his memory of that was still so hazy and dark he hardly knew what else had happened, even now—and above all, he’d failed you as a husband, a protector.

You were likely curled up in a ball by the bathroom sink, cowering in fear because of him. The thought sent another tidal wave of nausea thrumming through his skull, a lump in his throat growing larger alongside it, and before he knew what he was doing, Bucky was striding back to the bathroom door. He banged his fist against it.

“Honey?”

No answer.

“Baby, please open the door.”

More silence.

The moment brought to mind a memory from the night you two had been married. How you’d fled to the en-suite bathroom and locked yourself in it; how Bucky had rattled the whole doorframe with the force of his knocks, demanding you come out. He’d hardly known you then. You hardly knew him now. The realization of this made the weight in his throat all the more excruciating as he stood, and, wincing with pain, Bucky kept knocking.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Pleading now. His voice was hoarse all over again.

Had he been the slightest bit more desperate and reckless, he might’ve been tempted to muscle through, kick the door in with his boot. But Bucky knew better. He could already guess how much that action would terrify you now, while tending to an injury that he himself had inadvertently made worse. Barreling inside would be neither romantic nor sweet, just sinking what may then be a lethal dose of salt in the deeper, metaphorical wound. He refrained. Instead of continuing to knock, he dropped his forehead to the door and closed his eyes.

“Please believe me, baby,” he tried again.

He’d said it so quietly he feared you might not hear it. Then, a little bit louder, ‘Please, please believe me.’

No sound to be heard inside but running water.

“You mean everything to me, doll.”

By now, his voice was clogged with pain, teetering on the brink of agony as he rested his hands on the door, and willed you to open it. Say something to him. Anything.

“I’d never mean to hurt you. Not in a million years.”

For a moment, he heard nothing more. Just how desperately he needed to hear a voice in reply could not be overstated. Craving a new sound worse than oxygen in his lungs. At first, when he heard something other than himself nearby, it nearly knocked him back with joy.

A voice right next to his ear, “But you did, didn’t you?”

The joy lasted less than a second.

The voice beside him was low. And close. Not coming from the other side of the bathroom door, as he might’ve reasonably expected from you, and not even in the tone of a female’s voice, as he might’ve seen, were Sharon to have appeared by his side. This new voice was deep, and masculine, and in his ear now, chuckling some as a gloved hand pressed the barrel of a gun to his temple.

Bucky didn’t blink.

You stepped outside not wanting to see him.

The bleeding had long since stopped, thanks to the aid of a cool, damp washcloth and a few minutes’ pressure, but even once it ceased, your legs were reluctant to carry you back. You dreaded the thought of having to resume your conversation with Bucky—of having to look him in the eye and tell him all over again that it wasn’t safe for you to be married to him. But you didn’t have much of a choice now, either. This wasn’t your honeymoon, where you could stay locked in the bathroom, try climbing out a window, and hope for the best like you’d done before. You had the man’s child inside you, for fuck’s sake.

That uncomfortable subject and at least a dozen more were already swarming your brain as you made your way out of the bathroom. You’d taken a few extra squares of toilet paper to press into the cut, were looking down at it with a tense, uncertain gaze as you ventured out, when you were obliged to stop just a few steps into the room.

“Hi, honey.”

It wasn’t Bucky.

Your eyes snapped up to the source of the voice in an instant, and, on seeing you were right—that it wasn’t Bucky but a gaunt, grinning blond with a gun to your husband’s head—you almost screamed at the sight.

You’d wanted to scream, anyway. It would’ve been the sane thing to do, and one that nobody could’ve blamed you for in the moment, you reckoned, but strangely the sound never came. You just stared at the two, eyes wide and jaw slightly more lax as your lips made an ‘o’. Bile jumped up in your throat. You wished it would choke you.

‘Please. Don’t.’ was all you could get out.

Johann Schröder’s smile stretched wider.

“Don’t what?”

The question was clearly meant to be derisive, rhetorical. Still, with your fingers trembling, you tried answering:

“Don’t hurt h—”

“Why?”

You watched the gun sink deeper against your husband’s face, and he flinched. Your stomach clenched inside you.

“Why shouldn’t I hurt him, hon? Seems like he’s gotten pretty damn good at doing it to you,” Schröder sneered.

His words stung. The grin didn’t flinch. And, as if to punctuate his sentence, or else remind your husband that he was tied to a chair and entirely at his mercy now, Schröder struck Bucky in the face with the butt of his gun. If an onlooker hadn’t known better, they might’ve mistaken you for the one who’d been hit, though—at last, you unleashed that scream, and you reached out for Bucky, hands open and pathetic and desperate to help.

“Think it hurt as bad as your hand?” Schröder hummed.

Your feet were stumbling forward, “He didn’t mean—”

Another resounding thud against Bucky’s skull, this time hard enough to split his lip in half. If he’d grimaced in the slightest, you would’ve seen the teeth smeared with blood. But, true to form, James Barnes didn’t wince. He hadn’t even seemed to acknowledge the blow as it landed. Just stared at you and, with eyes as hollow and deadened and faintly pleading as you’d ever seen them before, manifested their silent apology to yours—again.

“Bet he didn’t mean to hurt anyone as the Winter Soldier, either. Still couldn’t have felt too good for all the folks he butchered, though.” At that, Schröder’s sick amusement morphed into a laugh, and he was taking Bucky’s collar in his other hand. Shaking him lightly while he spoke.

“Couldn’t have felt all that great for your dad, I bet.”

The diversion turned to you, all toothy smiles and mocking eyes. He didn’t care. He let you stagger another step toward the two of them, even try to get your hands close to Bucky. But when you’d drawn too close, he stopped you cold. Not thinking much else in the moment, you made a move to push Schröder’s arm away, hard, and were shortly rewarded with a shove of your own. He knocked you sideways onto the bed, and you landed on the hand you’d hurt. Before you could let out so much as a sound yourself, Bucky’s voice tore in:

“Schröder.”

Schröder turned. He raised his Ruger to your husband’s head again, as casually as if he’d asked him for the time.

“Yes?”

“Don’t touch her.”

Schröder turned to you. Though he didn’t move the Ruger again, he did point his finger at your form, haplessly curled into itself amidst the covers and pillows.

“Why? Saving all the rough stuff for later, are we?”

You cowered as his free hand reached for you, and just as your husband’s eyes went wide and a vein nearly tore through his skin from how hard it protruded, you cried,

“What do you want?!”

Schröder stopped. He brought his hand to a halt just south of your thigh—and then he dropped his weight on the bed beside you. He gestured indistinctly, almost disbelievingly, toward Bucky. The latter appeared near-apoplectic, nails raking down either arm of the chair.

“What do I want?” Schröder quipped, incredulous, “What do you want, doll? To stay married to him?”

And you knew he’d intended the question to be hurtful; you knew it by the glint in his eye, the goading tone of voice and the look he’d flitted to Bucky—nondescript and yet saying a world more than words could ever convey. He knew what had gone on between you, had likely heard your last conversation in its entirety, and was now using it against you. Mostly to taunt, then to injure your husband with truths he hadn’t yet uncovered himself.

Schröder’s eyes were shining with sadistic delight as he took your hand in his. He didn’t waste another second.

“No, no, that isn’t what you want at all, is it?”

Ignoring the screech of Bucky’s restraints as he tried to lunge out of his chair. Hearing him curse when he failed.

“—you said you’re leaving him, right?”

Schröder slid the thin, glistening ring off the hand he’d been holding before you could even think to stop him.

“—said you want a divorce, is that it?”

Then his grin got so big and conceited and enlivened by the sight of pain working its way onto Bucky’s face that any good sense you’d had left inside you was abandoned in a blink. You didn’t hesitate, or else try and make a pass to retrieve your ring—you just hit the man in the face.

Your fist was small, and his chin was hard. You knew before you ever threw the punch that it’d probably hurt you more than him, but you did it anyway. It succeeded, at the very least, in catching Schröder by surprise and swiftly pissing him off. Seeing this and feeling a bit bolder, you were somehow able to dodge his hands when he lurched for you again. Inside, your own anger flared.

“Why the fuck do you care?” you spat.

You found momentary respite in the corner of the bed, sliding back against a wall that would only protect you for so long. As soon as Schröder regained his bearings, he had you back in his sights and his grasp just as quick.

He dragged you back. He pulled you up. He dug the tips of his fingers so hard into your side that you thought the flesh might tear in two across your ribs. But it didn’t. Crescent-like indentations did leave their mark in a grisly set of five, though. You felt the sting of it as Schröder loosened his grip, then sucked his next breath through his teeth as if calming himself. Your gaze only hardened.

“I care,” he said, once he’d completed this slow inhale. He replaced his touch by pinching your face in one hand and bringing it up to his, expression more like a snarl. Then, raising the gun to your face in his other hand, “because I made a deal with your father. Remember?”

You did. Your head jerked back by force of instinct, but he held it. From every direction, then, you had nothing to hear but the sound of your own pulse thrumming a fast, panicked tempo in your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth without a drop on your tongue. And, had that deafening fear and revulsion been anything less, you likely would’ve heard something else beneath it all.

Would’ve felt it, if you weren’t already so numb: Schröder’s hand sliding its way down your body, diamond ring still stuck to the tip of his index finger. You sensed it as though seeing yourself from another perspective—watching his hand trail lower, lower, lower until something in Bucky split in two and he bellowed:

“SCHRÖDER—”

He said something more after that; you were sure of it. You just couldn’t hear him, or see him, or discern much of anything else but your own racing heart as the man who’d just beat your husband twice and lifted a gun to your head proceeded to press his touch to your belly. Almost conscientious and gentle as he lowered it.

“Was this part of the deal, too, doll?”

Your eyes widened. Realizing—then feeling fear seize you completely. Forgetting the metal at your temple and shaking your head with a force, but slow enough that your husband wouldn’t see it. Meanwhile, across from you both, Bucky seemed more than sufficiently occupied by his own blinding rage—he spit a glob of blood to the floor and, with his teeth bared again, swore he’d kill him.

Over and over and over again, oaths of taking Schröder’s life and making it gruesome and painful and slow filled your ears, but none of it stuck, for either you or Schröder. Instead, your maniacal captor just smiled, leaning in.

“I said, was this part of the deal, Mrs. Barnes?”

The heel of his palm sank into your stomach, and as the shock of his first words began to fade, a pain replaced it. His hand made an impressive demonstration of flattening and forcing itself so hard against the skin that a flurry of stars cropped up in your eyes, and you cried:

“Stop! I-It wasn’t— just— just stop. Stop.”

“Stop? Was it part of the deal or not?”

Schröder bore down even harder.

“It just happened!” you keened. Unsure why you felt compelled to answer for what had gone on at all—addressing the baby in this awful, oblique way—though reckoning it had something to do with the pressure he was applying to your stomach. You tried to squirm back.

But your stuttering pulse and your pleading gaze and the ache in your stomach proved to be all too much for any real progress to be made. You’d scarcely moved off an inch before he drove his palm deeper, and with the agony of a body about to rupture beneath it, a shriek clawed out of your throat. Your mouth fell open, and for once, you couldn’t curtail the pain, or fear. Schröder’s hand had just forced the noise from your mouth, along with some mindless, broken pleas to stop pushing, it hurts, please, please, when the face above yours only brightened. Schröder’s cruel, snide mouth flashed a smile above you, and before you could whine again—

He kissed you.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second.

Still, the moment seemed to stretch indefinitely. And felt perverse. So deeply nauseating and unsettling to every last nerve, muscle, tendon, and bone in your body that the response it evoked could be nothing less than visceral. You didn’t need to think at all to shove him off. Whatever might’ve given you pause with a loaded gun to your head was forgotten in a second, and soon enough, you weren’t alone in letting your reproach be known.

It started off with a crack, then a harsh, crude splintering of wood. A violent rift, from what you could hear of it, and when you turned your head, your suspicions were confirmed: Bucky had snapped half the arm of his chair away from the seat, and his right hand was almost freed.

Whatever barrier he faced in being bound more than four times over with rope seemed immaterial to him now. He could strain as hard as he pleased—feel the coarse synthetic fibers dig into his flesh and leave streaks of red, if not break the skin itself—and any pain, as before, hardly appeared to register with your husband at all. He just muscled through it, thrusting his wrist even harder. The whole force of this movement rocked the chair on its legs, and just when you sensed it might collapse beneath his weight, you felt Schröder stand up. The man didn’t need to move too far or do much else other than drop his hold on you and flip his gun to point it at Bucky instead.

Even when he had, though, Bucky didn’t flinch. His hands were in fists and his drive was like a machine’s—he tried forcing his way out of the right hand’s restraints, and the second the wood gave way, he was shoving it off.

Blind to the firearm Schröder was holding, or his words:

“Stay where you are, Barnes.”

Bucky was just then shaking off the rope that had been loosened by the break in the wood, jaw still tight as ever.

“You’ve got three other limbs to free, my friend, just—”

Schröder was still speaking when you saw his finger slip to the trigger, and it seemed to you it was itching to pull.

“James, stop!”

That plea came from you. More of a strangled cry, really—no more pleasant for either man to hear than it was for your throat to shriek. It did, however, stop Bucky cold. Your husband paused just long enough to meet your gaze. And in it, you saw, at least, that he was all there, if not enraged. But not soldat, or anyone else but himself.

You sighed in relief, despite what seeing two red rivers seeping out of Bucky’s mouth might otherwise provoke.

It was him. You might’ve smiled if another hadn’t cut in.

Schröder seized Bucky’s wrist. With it, you saw his hand just as mangled and bloodied as his lips. Knuckles cracked, slit, and soon to be littered with bruises of every shade, he shocked you again by how calmly he took it. Even when Schröder sank a thumb inside a big, gaping crater of a flesh wound he’d found on the back of his hand, your husband didn’t blink; he just looked at you.

‘I’m sorry.’

When the barrel of the gun returned to his head—this time, at the rear, as Schröder had circled back around the half-broken chair and was leaning over him—you could see the apology lodged in his eyes on full display.

“For safekeeping.” The man wielding the gun seemed almost pleased as he dropped your ring inside the breast pocket of your husband’s shirt, before patting it gently:

“Now where were we?”

A beat. Bucky’s right hand twitched beside him, but evidently, he knew better than to move in that moment.

“Right, right—” Schröder pretended to be remembering, tapping steel to Bucky’s skull, “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”

More silence.

You wanted to speak, beg Schröder for mercy, anything.

“Do you know why that is, Bucky?”

But before you could utter even a word of protest, the voice pressed on. Schröder was leaning in his ear.

“—what you did to her?”

The baby. Brooklyn. All the bloodshed that had ensued last week, leaving your husband completely in the dark. Of course, he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been himself, and was scarcely more able to control his actions as the Winter Soldier than he could in a dream.

To your horror, Schröder reached down for Bucky’s hand, and, still holding the gun to him with the other, lifted it.

Pointed it.

Pushed it closer to you.

“C’mon, Buck. You don’t want me touching her, right? Why don’t you feel for yourself what she’s been hiding?”

Your blood turned to ice. You’d never felt so immobile—paralyzed—in your life, but seeing the hands drift closer and closer and feeling defenseless to their course, your body went numb. Your limbs grew heavier than lead.

And when you felt the smug, smiling blond guide your husband’s touch toward your head, you understood it all.

You were perched at the edge of the bed a foot away. Schröder was nudging Bucky forward in his chair, urging him to reach out and tilt her chin a little, go on, that’s it. And neither one of you had a choice, so he touched you. His fingers, directed by someone else, were obliged to brush the skin of your chin, your jaw, your cheek, and your brow, before finally settling above your left temple.

Your husband felt the cut—touched the stitches.

You winced, but not from any physical pain. It was Bucky’s face as the tips of his fingers skimmed the wound. The look of chagrin that crossed his eyes. Then bewilderment. Fear, as plain as anyone could see it— was he the cause of that? Had the hurt been from him?

You couldn’t bear to answer him, so you looked away. It was Schröder, again, who had all the power to speak.

“Can’t remember pushing her down?” he said, tone dark, “Making her split her head open on the bedside table because soldat didn’t know his own strength—only that he had to keep her safe—and sensed a threat outside?”

Bucky shook his head. His face was grave.

Schröder kept making him prod the skin.

“It’s bruised here, too. You feel it?”

Your husband did, and you thought it might break him. So tender and forlorn were the eyes, raking over every spot where a touch, his touch, had left you hurt before.

If nothing else could bring you back to your senses, the wounded look in Bucky’s gaze was sure to get it done.

You hardly thought again, just croaked: ‘It’s not his fault.’

Schröder’s hand then descended your neck, your torso.

As if he hadn’t heard you at all—

“You already saw what happened to her hand.”

—and forcing Bucky’s touch lower still.

“But what about here?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt your husband’s hand come to rest on your stomach.

It was like a fire had ignited in your lower half, and nothing close to the soft, pleasurable kind. Not the flutter felt in anticipation of a touch from your husband, not the desirous sort. In fact, you dreaded it now; seeing Schröder over his shoulder, urging him closer, making him flatten his big, broad, scorching palm over your belly.

What should’ve been the ecstatic scene you’d conjured in your mind at least a hundred times since marrying him—the picture of domestic bliss as you said it, smiling, I’m pregnant—was now nothing short of torture. Choice all but stripped from you here, forced to emerge inside this terrible place, you found yourself needing to shrink back, shake your head, look to Schröder’s stubborn, unyielding gaze and beg him not to make you do this now. Not now.

Not here, with Bucky’s skin a shade of glacial white and his eyes going wide, taking on a look you’d never seen.

“What do you—”

He stared hard at the hand on your belly, but it didn’t last for long. As if realization were trying to seep in, he couldn’t meet it. His eyes flitted back to your face.

“Baby, what’s—” he tried again, stammering.

“—right, that’s it, Mr. Barnes.” That was Schröder.

Satisfied in the suspense of the moment keeping your husband still, he lifted his hand from Bucky’s and snapped, that’s it, and clapped him over the shoulder.

Congratulating him before the truth had even sunk in.

“A baby, that’s right! You’re going to be a father, Buck.”

And how far was the look on Bucky’s face from the one you’d dreamed before. The lips you’d envisioned in a smile now twisting bleakly, parting slightly, and the eyes you’d once hoped to be bright and elated only staring back with rings of red enveloping the irises. Whatever tears formed at his waterline were decidedly not of joy.

Only guilt.

“You did it.”

Desperation.

More moisture in his eyes as his hand started to tremble across your stomach, voice hoarse and soft, “Is it true?”

You didn’t need to nod. You just watched him, let your own eyes fill with the worst, stinging tears you had felt in your life, and from the silence that followed, Bucky knew.

As if the life beneath his palm were something dear, but still too much for him to comprehend, he shook his head. He stroked his thumb over the cotton of your pyjamas and tried inching closer, as much as his restraints would allow him. Then, with words that were audibly strained, but always gentle, he lowered his voice—as if to keep the communication between you two, despite your position:

“I love you.”

His hand was still on your belly as he said it. He reached up to cup your face. Even lower than before, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That much was evident from every look he’d given you tonight. Every move he made a de facto apology, all actions in the vein of atonement, it couldn’t possibly escape your mind or his that he knew he’d done wrong. It was only a matter of accepting this—maybe coming to terms with the fact that your life wasn’t safe in his hands—for the guilt plaguing Bucky to multiply. Paralyze him.

There was no better time for Schröder to strike. Just as the anguish had flooded Bucky’s face completely, and his hand had had to lower itself from want of strength, a sound split the air. Bucky was so lost in his thoughts that it didn’t even register at first, but the impact was real, and it was harsh: Schröder punched him squarely in the jaw. The next, swift snap was his nasal bone taking a blow, and breaking beneath it. Blood breezed down and into his mouth. Feeling warm, his lips and chin doused in a second, he sensed nothing else. He might’ve groaned.

He caught another swift right hook, and his mind went blank. Nothing of substance threatened to materialize between his ears, save for the rush of blood through and from his skull and the dim recognition of something ugly.

Something horrific.

He couldn’t protect you.

His body was as much an idle waste as it was a danger. Useless now, as he was tied to this chair, and a risk to your well-being even if he weren’t. The hazard was him.

Schröder hit him again, and Bucky realized that the ringing he’d heard in his ears was your screaming.

“I’m doing her a favor,” Schröder spat before shoving him back in the chair, almost knocking it sideways.

The blond advanced with ease. His knuckles were drenched in blood; none of it was his. When he reached for Bucky again, the resistance was slight, and a simple, firm grip on the collar was all that was needed to drag his frame to sit straight. Bucky was barely upright for a second before the next—and worst—blow struck his face. His whole head rang with it, reeling, but still, he could make out the words as they were spoken to him.

“She’ll never be safe with you, Barnes. Never—” and at the last, Schröder lowered his gun. Started to loosen the rope from Bucky’s left arm, “—I could free you now, and you still wouldn’t get within an inch of what you want.”

He nudged the rope away and let it fall to the floor. Bucky lifted his hand, but the effort was in vain. No sooner had a finger of his stirred than Schröder was delivering a kick to the chair and letting it splinter. Topple. Skitter a half-foot across the hardwood floor with Bucky’s ankles still bound to it, before finally, gracelessly, breaking apart.

Bucky was on the floor, blinking through a stream of blood and a sea of muddied thoughts when Schröder kicked the chair again. The rope slackened some more.

“Her own father knew as much, so he made me a deal to take her off of your hands. Settle his debts the way he should’ve done the first time around,” Schröder said, and now his tone was lower. Lethal as it ever was, and stern.

“I know how much you hate to lose your playthings, Buck, but this one’s better off with me, I promise.”

And, as if to emphasize his point, Schröder turned and reached for you. Bucky’s own hands were slow, fumbling in fits and bursts to get the rope unwound from his ankles, but they were determined. He just couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, the ringing to subside, or his brain, in its concussed state, to let him move with a little more agility. He’d been hit too many times. He could barely lift his head off his shoulders and hold it straight, so he was forced to stay where he was, keep at his task, and listen.

“You’re weak when you’re not soldat.”

Using his knuckles, Schröder brushed the blood that was evidently all Bucky’s across your cheek, and you flinched.

“When you make the switch, still…you’re inhuman.”

Then he tilted your head, making you show them both the mutilated, stitched-up flesh above your temple. Again, you tried to slink away, but his touch was firm.

“Don’t you think your bride deserves better than that? Your child? Forced to live in fear of that thing you are?”

Blood coursed down Bucky’s face, and his lips were curled apart in a grimace, mouth hanging slightly ajar. His eyes fixed their look on you. The rope was undone.

He’d just started to try and stand when the edge of his vision blurred. He felt the lacerations in his face pulse as one, and with it, half his sight went skewed to the left. Schröder couldn’t help but crack a smile seeing him stumble, pitch back, and barely catch himself on the bedside table. When he stood, he was mostly hunched.

“Look at you, Buck. You can’t try and save her like this,” Schröder taunted, drawing you closer, “So stop trying.”

The man’s hand was like ice holding your face. The grip grew tighter when he saw your husband limping your way, and before either one of you could move, the index of Schröder’s other hand had slid down to the trigger. He didn’t wait to give another warning before he did it—just pointed the gun and fired one shot over Bucky’s head.

His aim was good. The bullet missed your husband by less than an inch. The gun had gone off by your ear, and immediately, you seized the side of your head as a sharp, searing pain cropped up. Your skull was still ringing when you heard the thing discharge again, and you realized it had been aimed at Bucky’s neck. He’d ventured another step, and Schröder had fired a second round to graze the top of his shoulder. Crimson bloomed through his shirt.

Bucky should’ve stumbled again. He might’ve staggered back with a grunt of pain, lifted a quick, reflexive hand to feel the wound, but the sense of it all was slow to reach him. The moments that passed him were delayed just the same, as if the world around him were distorted—the fibers of time tugged and stretched before his eyes—and he could hardly keep himself straight. When he got another look down the barrel of the gun, he didn’t blink. Couldn’t see, really. It was all misshapen sights and sounds and a dim recognition that his mind was in a fog.

Somewhere from within that mist, he heard, faintly:

“I’ll go— I’ll go— I’ll go with you, I’ll go— just stop.”

Schröder turned to you, and the smile that he wore was cruel, but Bucky wasn’t able to make out the expression.

All he could see then, to the faintest extent, was you—your face, gripped hard in another man’s hand, eyes pleading and wet with tears, and a slightly slack jaw.

“Leave him for me?” Schröder repeated, sneering.

You nodded. Blinked. Rolled your tongue along the inside of your cheek before pulling it back and biting down once. There was a hint of a wince in your eyes, but, from what Bucky could tell, it vanished just as fast as it came.

Your lips parted again. Your eyes widened a little.

“So the girl has some fucking sense.” That was Schröder.

He’d had his weapon re-holstered and your face firmly seized in both of his hands in no more than a second.

What came next surprised no one, though the sensations of disgust and rage were as quick to turn a stomach as the shock would have done. Schröder bent down and, having pulled your face closer to his, kissed you again.

Schröder’s mouth was glistening with a grin and Bucky’s own blood—smeared all over your face from how hard he’d been holding you—when he looked up and turned.

“Sensible and sweet, isn’t she? Tastes like it, too.”

Bucky saw nothing but red. It wasn’t just blood crowding his vision now but violence and rancor and outright hatred, stirring his limbs to start moving again when the rest of his body was plainly too battered to venture an inch in that condition. He staggered again, watched you again, and had made it almost halfway across the room when another sight slowed him, if only for a moment.

Schröder’s lips were back on yours, as if to mock him, but what startled him, really, was the way you’d opened your mouth. You couldn’t mean it. Clearly. Schröder was gripping your jaw, forcing it open—it had to be—and he was coaxing your tongue out from inside and weaving it with his. Once more, time moved like molasses, and that was all your husband had had to see: you kissing him back, gripping his arm through the thick, black tactical gear, and still parting your lips more and more for him. Like you needed a touch, or something, worse than ever.

That stalled Bucky, though he was nowhere close to stopping now. Briefly preoccupied, and seemingly shocked as well that you’d accepted the kiss so eagerly this time, Schröder didn’t see the approach. If he had, he likely would’ve turned and made a move for his Ruger, but as it was, he had only to blink—and there was Bucky.

He hit him with a force that was blinding, directly to the side of his head so hard that he’d had no choice but to separate from you. Schröder was stunned one second and on the floor in the next. Bucky threw him there, kicked him down, and, wavering for only a moment to cock back the shoulder that’d been shot, he ignored the pain and punched the man again. And again. And again.

There was a callousness, an indolence, and an ease with which he was able to inflict the pain, that much was evident. What didn’t seem so natural, at least in Bucky’s mind, was the weight that was in his hands: Schröder’s body felt limp before he’d even landed the second blow.

The pressure grew heavier and heavier in his hands the harder, and more frequently, he delivered each hit, but for now, he didn’t care. Bucky kept on punching until the face beneath him was gnarled and bloody, and his own fist, too, slashed every which way with more cuts than he was able to count. He would’ve kept going—could’ve ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder for as long as it would take to ensure the man was dead—but as it was, he refused to ignore the voice he heard. It was yours.

Muffled now, as your body was bent to the side and your head drooped lower still. Your voice was soft but clear:

“Bucky, please, stop.”

He did.

He dropped the man’s collar from his hands as soon as he’d heard you say it, and he turned away as if nothing had transpired behind him at all. His focus was on you.

“Baby—”

To his surprise, he watched you spit on the floor.

Your face was grim and almost sick, and you spit again.

The look grew even worse, and afterward, you didn’t waste a second more; you stood and left the room.

Bucky was stunned at first, and his instinct had been to follow. Then he heard a rattling sound beside him. He glanced down and paled, seeing Schröder there.

His face had turned blue much sooner than Bucky had expected—and not from any bruising but a lack of oxygen in his lungs. He was choking, foaming slightly at the mouth while he gasped for air. Surely, it hadn’t been the hits that caused it. The whites of Schröder’s eyes were as conspicuous as he’d ever seen them. Desperate.

Bucky swiftly got the sense that the life of his former captor was lost, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to watch him die. He left what remained of Schröder’s form to continue writhing on the floor, choking and sputtering for a breath that would never come, and went after you.

Downstairs, he found you hunched over the kitchen sink—spitting, retching, and trembling, too, but breathing.

You let the water from the faucet fill your mouth, and you rinsed again. You winced as something stuck your cheek.

Bucky drew closer, quickly, and when he was right by your side, he saw you spit a shard of glass into the sink. He looked over to the counter, and he spotted three more

They were minuscule, really. Nothing quite the size to leave a wound too deep, but sharp enough to cut your lips, your tongue, or the insides of your cheeks. When Bucky leaned in, he saw droplets of red joining the flow of the water beneath it. You coughed over and over again

“Don’t,” you croaked, seeing Bucky reach for the glass.

Before he could reply: “It’s the poison. From Madripoor.”

Your husband’s blood went cold in his veins. He didn’t touch the glass, but he did press closer to you, feeling his insides churn as the cogs started to turn in his head.

The vial of poison you’d been given to slip in Schröder’s drink at the Foxy Den—how the hell had you gotten it back? Why would you think you needed it, if he— but no, that couldn’t be the case. There wasn’t a shot you just—

“—put it in your mouth?” Bucky couldn’t curb the fear in his voice. He reached for you and spun you to face him.

“Did it kill him?”

Your eyes were wide for entirely different reasons. Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing; his mouth was dry.

“I didn’t want to kiss him,” you went on, voice shaking a little, “I didn’t— I just— I couldn’t get him the poison any other way. I knew he’d kiss me again, and when he did—”

“I know,” Bucky said. He smoothed the hair from your face, shaking his head. Feeling his stomach clench with fear and dread as he hurried to get a look in your mouth.

You’d snuck the vial inside your cheek, then crushed it between your teeth before Schröder had kissed you. You’d all but forced him to swallow the poison, shoving your tongue down his throat, but what of the stuff that remained? The rough, trembling fingers of Bucky’s hand were trying to pry your lips apart as gently as they could, ensure all the serum was out, but at present, you wouldn’t let him. You pushed back gently, though not too far to prevent your own touch from roaming his shoulder.

“The bullet—” you started.

“Barely nicked me,” Bucky cut in, “Baby, I need to see—”

That you’re safe. That you won’t be hurt in any way. He couldn’t finish the thought himself, having seen what the poison did to Schröder. Instead, he just held you closer and fought the lump that was starting to form in his throat. Adrenaline had worked well enough to clear his mind of the haze, but the rest of him was all high-strung.

Your clothes clung to you both, wet with blood and sweat. Your breaths were fast. Your expressions were feral, eyes no calmer as they scanned over the other’s form and soaked in every trace of what had happened. Bucky in his formalwear and you in something close to a chemise—like your honeymoon night all over again—you each got a glimpse of the gore ornamenting yourselves and let the room fall quiet, if only for a minute or two.

Your husband was the one to break the silence, at length, with cracked and grisly hands sliding down to your hips.

“You’re okay?”

His touch shifted you back in place to sit on the counter.

“I’m alright.”

You wanted to say more; assure him, in a voice as sedate as you could manage, that this wasn’t his fault. Whether he would believe a word of what you said was a separate question, but, at any rate, it didn’t matter. The next thing you knew, Bucky was slotting himself in the space between your legs and pulling you into his arms.

In spite of himself and all the wounds, he held you tight.

“You’re alright,” he repeated.

His face sank into the crook of your neck, and you felt his muscles contract again—pulling you closer—as he drew a shaky breath against your skin. You hugged him back.

“Are you?” Your voice was small.

In a blink, Bucky resurfaced. He lifted his head from your neck and, still holding you, hadn’t seemed to have heard.

“The baby,” he said quickly.

He stepped back. Lowered his gaze and his hands to trail over your hips and near your stomach, and he stared, as if trying to make sense of something dire. His blue eyes were wide, and they assumed such a look of panic that you feared a blood vessel might actually burst in one.

After all the great lengths he’d gone to, ensuring you were safe and taking extra precautions, on the off-chance you might be pregnant, here you were.

And there he went, sliding his touch lower and lower again until his hand was pressed into your belly, and the gaze you’d once thought soft before had all but melted into tenderness—delicacy. Complete, loving unreserve.

When his eyes met yours a second time, they were shiny.

Wet with the only kind of tears you’d want to see in them.

“You’re really…” he started, just to taper off, blinking.

And then his cheeks were dotted with the tiny, round droplets, and he’d finally ventured a smile for the first time in what seemed like ages and you couldn’t keep from reaching for him. The second you’d lifted your arms you were back in his, lips and nose smushed against the front of his stained white button-up and breathing deep.

Or trying to, anyway. Bucky had you squeezed so tight to his chest you had nothing but his shirt to inhale at first. You didn’t mind, and when he pulled away a moment later, you realized that your eyes, too, were filling up quick. You had to steel yourself against a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to emerge—the aftermath of a half-dozen traumas laid bare over the last hour—but the longer you were here, and the more your husband stared at you like that, the quicker your courage was depleted. In the span of five seconds, your senses were shot to hell. All you could think was what you could feel, and all you felt was Bucky: his arms and his hands and the raw, blistering heat between your bodies. The rest was noise.

It surprised you both when you kissed him. Physically, your mouth and his were hardly up to do it, injured as they were, but the impulse was strong, and it flowed between you. As soon as your lips latched onto his, Bucky was holding your face, molding his body to yours without so much as a second thought, and the mouth you met was sturdy. Hungry in the way it kissed back.

A string of words from Schröder flashed in your mind—‘Never be safe’—and you grit your teeth together, snagging the cusp of Bucky’s lower lip as you did it. He groaned. Before you could even try to apologize, though, he was gripping your face harder in his hands and coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. His front was still flush with yours, and your legs were starting to wind around his hips. Your husband nudged you back against the cabinets, and from the force of that push, you felt it.

Felt him.

Surely, it had had to take two very fucked up individuals to get all hot and bothered from a bloodbath that had just taken place; but, again, here you were—together.

And there you went, grinding your lower half with his.

“Doll?” Bucky broke out, word slurred just a little.

For a second, you thought he was going to stop you. Your eyes scanned his, and you were already planning to apologize for being so horny, it must just be the—

“You know I love you, right?” he breathed.

You blinked. You were about to nod, when you felt the bulge in his slacks start to rub against your barely-clothed heat, and something akin to a shockwave coursed through your frame. It couldn’t be helped. A monsoon of hyper-sensitized pleasure trembled over the skin in a way you’d never felt it before, and suddenly you were letting out a moan: a muffled cry of, ‘Yes, I-I know.’

Your husband swallowed and stared, slightly taken aback by the reaction his erection had produced. He’d never felt that either. At least from what he could remember.

The truth was that he’d never had a pregnant wife before—someone whose body was now extraordinarily responsive to his touch, nearly aching for him.

When you scooted your butt to the edge of the counter and dug your heels in the backs of his legs, humping him, almost, he got the idea. Bucky swallowed again.

“I love you too, I— I—” you started, already out of breath, “I just really need you to fuck me. Can you— please—”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked once, much less twice. He already had his belt, button, and zip undone before you could even look down, and then your own pyjama shorts were sliding off too. The counter was cool against your skin, but your husband’s warmth was more than enough to compensate for the loss. You smiled again, sheepish.

“It’s just…hormones,” you said, quieter toward the end.

You weren’t sure why you felt so ashamed to simply say, ‘James, I’ve been damn near insane with desire ever since you put a baby in me. Can you give me five more?’ But you did. You felt your cheeks start to heat as your lower half was left exposed to the air, and Bucky slipped his hand down between your legs, practically groaning:

“Honey, you’re soaked.”

There wasn’t one iota of shame in his tone.

He was more than happy to find you drenched beneath his touch. He had a smile on his face and a warmth bleeding from every fingertip as he caressed that soft, tender spot. You didn’t need to tell him what was on your mind, either. He sensed something was making you shy, and rather than have you say it aloud, he just touched you gentler, stroked the skin more affectionately, and tilted his head so only you could hear him, quiet as ever:

“That’s my girl. Feeling good for me?”

You felt your heartbeat between your thighs.

“My baby,” Bucky went on, voice dulcet and slow.

Your body was trembling at the edge, waiting. Impatient.

“My wife,” he said that with a smile, into your neck.

He lowered you onto his length, and you whined.

“Mother of my child.” The smile got bigger.

You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Feeling him slide inside the most precious, wet, pliable part of you, stretching you out, you couldn’t help the sounds you made. You felt full in a whole new way; the groan Bucky let out when you were impaled down to the base of his cock said he shared the feeling. He throbbed inside you.

“You’re—fuck.” Bucky’s words broke off at the sensation.

Your walls were as slick as ever, your body delicate, rolling your hips to the first gentle thrusts that his shaft carved inside. Neither one of you could last long like this.

Still, at the threat of sublime pleasure, you felt fear, briefly: Schröder’s implacable stare—and the thousands more like him in HYDRA. You couldn’t help but grip Bucky tighter, willing these thoughts away with the rhythm of your body over his. Feeling him fill you up, fuck you with quick, deliberate thrusts and hold you, ‘That’s it, take what you need, sweet girl, you’re okay.’

You wished you were. You wanted to be. With every stab of Bucky’s hips, you hoped this would be the last night you ever feared for you or your child’s life, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. This was everything your husband’s varied ‘enterprises’ entailed, and a life with him meant never knowing a day without it—fear.

The head of Bucky’s cock grazed an especially sensitive ridge in your walls, and you whimpered into his shoulder.

You smelled blood.

He pushed you back against the counter and pounded harder, breaths heavy and labored and gruff as he spoke:

“You’re okay, baby, it’s alright.”

Your mind tried clinging to that thought, nodding along as if to convince yourself. The pleasure grew stronger, and your body was hot. Everything was heightened. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes or his lips or his rough, bloodied touch from roaming you wherever he could reach, and he kept rutting his hips, assuring you gently, again and again, that it was all okay. He was right here.

The pleasure from the depths of your body was beyond your control—you couldn’t help it when the band inside of you snapped. You held Bucky closer and you moaned, more desperate and needy and soaking for him, taking something from him, and knowing the bliss you felt would only steal the dark thoughts for a moment or two.

Bucky’s eyes said it just the same. He couldn’t keep stuffing you full, feeling his pleasure hit its peak, and finally painting your insides without sharing that look.

You were less than halfway down from your highs when you felt him go still, panting fast, then hold your face.

“I love you.”

It was desperate. Hoping for something.

“I love you, too,” you told him, and you meant it.

But there was more. Both of you knew there was more.

“I can’t be married to you, Bucky.”

You didn’t know why it had to come out now, but the emotions were there—his gaze had all but drawn it out.

Still sheathed inside you, your husband tensed. He looked as if he might try and shake his head, but the movement was stalled by his own momentary shock. He’d known the words were coming, but the sound of you saying them now wasn’t any less jarring to hear. Before he could reply, you found yourself cutting back in:

“Not now, at least. We need some…time. To think.”

You weren’t sure what you were saying, just that your lips were moving and every new word was hurting him more.

“Even with Schröder gone, there are so many…dangers for both—or, all—of us, and I don’t know…I just can’t—”

—imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like his.

You didn’t need to say it.

The pain in Bucky’s eyes already communicated as much, and the conviction in your own only convinced him that you’d meant it—and what you said was the truth. You couldn’t stay in a marriage that wasn’t safe.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something more, the man surprised you when he squeezed your hand.

Nodding, almost imperceptibly, in front of you.

“I can wait,” he said, “Whenever you’re ready, doll.”

His voice was hoarse, words strained from the lump in his throat as he spoke, but the message was sincere.

“Whenever you feel safe,” he added, softly.

You wanted to hold him again. Like before, your eyes began to well with something stinging and harsh, but the look you’d fixed on him was filled with nothing but love. You would’ve reached for him then, if he hadn’t moved his hand to his pocket. He felt around inside it, briefly.

Then Bucky retrieved your wedding ring.

Holding you up against him, pressed snugly into the counter with your legs still wrapped around his lower half, he pinched the silver band between his forefinger and thumb and held it up to you. It glistened in the light.

“The next time you wear it, I want it to be because you chose to marry me. Not for anything, or anyone, else.”

Nothing arranged, no game, no being forced to stay.

You nodded and had to blink through a layer of tears.

Bucky’s thumb traced the moisture, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. He’d had to keep blinking himself, and before you could reach for him, he kissed you.

“I really hope you marry me again one day, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled, having parted but still holding on.

“I think I would like that, too. One day.”

The next thing you heard was a sound at the front door: what sounded like a crash. Half a dozen sets of feet stumbling inside, crowding the foyer, making a loud, frantic clamor that you and Bucky knew only too well. The two of you scrambled to get your clothes back on as Steve, Nat, Sam, and Sharon all seemed to yell at once.

You had one hell of a story to tell them.

Taglist: @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @wilsons-striped-ties @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @lunaroserites @first-edition @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @mostlymarvelgirl @yujyujj @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @5thgoddess @oogaboogabeepboop @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @mimimarvelingmarvel @counteveresttt @thepetitemandalorian @diannana @aagn360 @aka-tua-braindump @shortnloud @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @ladyvenera @gyokujyn @bigtreefest @winterschildren8 @mega-kittyglitter-1

[aanglican]

natla s1e1 reaction liveblog ^.^

“in partnership with nickelodeon”

THE COMET

CAPITAL CITY

the earthbender from the trailer yassss come on prequel

GET THEIR ASSSSSSS

they didnt know he was an earthbender huhhh

THEYRE GOING TO START A WARRRR

PLEASEEEEEE

sozin BITCH

“we arent the real target” OH

not the fire sages watching sozin burn a man alive

THE INYRRTOOOOOOOOOO

why the fuck is it kyoshi narrating -_-

KURUKKKKK CAMEOOO

that random ass “aang” in the intro

aang is flying…. your ass will never be guru laghima!!!

“there may come a day when you wish you spent more time with your teachers” ��

SKY BISONNNN + “all of them”

this female airbender is so pretty

the last comet festival before 0 AG was a hundred years ago

“i don’t want the power” “which is why you’ll be a great avatar” “cant you just pretend im still your friend?” “you’ll always be my friend” 😮‍💨😮‍💨🥹🥹🥹

gordon cormier THESPIAN

the fooking comet……..

APPA ENTRANCE

“monks dont even trust me to feed the baby bison and im supposed to save the world??”

i understand why people said there’s a lot of exposition in this pilot now

these fuckass fire nation bitches GO AWAY

“brothers and sisters we’re under attack”

okayyyy choreo

these firebenders dont feel like they’re superpowered at all aside from when they’re blasting at the buildings hmmm

poor babies :(

they burned my girl alive in her own tornado

OH SHIT GYATSO PULL UP

not sozin doing an amon walk

CINNAMON TOPOGRAPHY

the southern water tribe YASSSSS

not katara being in the old fire nation ship

WOLF COVE

i’ll never understand why fc yee chose wolf cove as the name for the village. wolf what? this place is weird.

“if dad were here—” “but hes not here. i am!” 🫥

zuko here (and he is polluting the skies and seas)

zuko drawing fanart

why do statues and statuettes with the image of the avatars all glow when aang awakens? that was never explained in the cartoons and it only happened once (?)

LMAO whose uncle is this

this michael goi ahs: murder house ass camera angle lol

aang thinking the southerners know what a sky bison looks like aw :( cus 100 years ago was just yesterday for him

this whale bone architecture slayssss but why is this longhouse so huge

not gran gran stealing katara’s lines 😮‍💨

“ass” word dropped!!! okayy TV-14!!!

this big ass ship omg no wonder the fire nation was polluting all the damn lands. they needed that metal.

poor babies holding rocks trying to fight off the firebenders :(((

girl i am not rocking with this dialogue just yet hold on….

“lord of uh snow and ice” okay i take it back

AAAAANGGGG

“it can’t be” u thought u were gonna get an old ass man to beat huh

CMON SWT RESISTANCE

iroh and aang scene ouuuu

“the drive to conquer … is peace and unity” ouuuu iroh telling on his old self or what?

zuko flop

not katara realizing she can do shit with water lmao that quick tho???

“flameheads” new slur for firebenders dropped

they fucked up yangchen’s shrine real bad ouuu

gyatso reaction INCOMINGGGG

avatar state babeyyyyyyy

KATARA THESPIAN

aang let go baby this isnt you ;(

zuko chill bro

[kysfimagines]

KYSF characters reacting to you dying during childbirth

warning: this is a very sensitive and sad topic which cointains youre dies. sorry

TUO: y/n noooo :( way to bring down the mood y/n!

MIKIYA: Oh, god, it can’t be... y/n is really gone, aren’t they? Well, it’s just you and me, Mikiya Jr. Mark my words, I will teach you everything I know, and we WILL avenge y/n by razing every last hospital to the ground! ...Oh, the good doctor! I was joking of course. Touchy, aren’t we? Obviously I’d never hold a grudge for you killing the person who birthed my child.

HAUNA: ok

CIJUNE: *cries for 19 minutes* my child.. you are all i have left. i will raise you into the best human being you can be for y/n's legacy. i swear i will protect you and love you the best i can *the whole time the baby is biting and scratching nurses and hissing*

PAYU: dang it! *snaps fingers* that’s such a bummer. welp. anyway. im gonna teach this baby to surf

AYASA: I am going to sue this hospital so hard that by the time I’m through with you, my child will be set for college AND retirement twice over. I have my lawyer on the line right now, actually, would you like to hear from him? *hands the doctor the phone but its his voice on the phone* Me again, bitch.

SOKEMUI: *rampaging though the hospital and screaming like a white woman in film's oscar winning scene*

ML: *kind of liked it* wow, y/n fucking died.. wow. kind of weird. i mean, i guess its sort of cute… oh yeah um *turns to the crowd of adoring fans and paparazzi* does anyone want this baby

HEAVENLY: i refuse to believe it… y/n CAN’T be dead! no way… it can’t be true…. *phone notification* oh! my starbucks order is ready. byeee

CADENCE: no.. how could this fucking happen… you’re a sham quack doctor *tries to fistfight the doctor and loses and dies*

JACOB: *through tears* y/n……. my poor sweet darling…….. i will send you off in only…. the finest of funeral rites. with highest honors. *blows up your corpse*

AURE: *glaring at baby* you did this...... you killed my beautiful yummy y/n..i am NOT going near that thing *the doctor: that is your child you have to raise them* no. i refuse to care for that creature

MARSHALL: what the fuck man...

ROO: Oh this is terrible :( Rest well, Y/N, you were wonderful... Now, who wants to raise this child? Nose goes!

LEN: this is so fucking sad *plays a perfect violin adaptation of Music of the Betrayed - 1 HOUR Of Epic Dark Sad Tragic Emotional Dramatic Music*

MIN: hahah funny prank ok y/n you can wake up now :p ....okayyyy,, theyre not waking up. you seeing this doc? o__0

CELESTIUS: *takes a picture* You’re going into my cringe compilation.

N*AH: ugh y/n 🙄 you know this is so embarrassing for me right? i couldn’t go to your seminars about “human rights” and “emotional intelligence” and “benefits of personal hygiene” because i was busy getting beer with the bros, ever think of that? you never think about my feelings. no, you always tell me that my cis white straight privilege clouds my better judgment and that i need to educate myself, even though i’m not even homophobic, no really. you always make ME look like the bad guy, and this is no different! you just went and died for attention. ohhh look at y/n, they’re dead, that’s so sad. boo hoo. because when people start caring about ME for a change you just can’t handle that because you’re a sensitive snowflake. god. and now i have to raise this stupid baby. pc culture has really ruined life for honest good men like me

[thestarsanctuary]

Hello! I’m not sure who you take requests for, but could I request Midoriya, Uraraka, and Kirishima with an s/o who they think is cheating on them but it turns out they were just playing an otome game? If it’s not too much? Have a wonderful evening!

BNHA CHARACTERS WHEN THEY THINK YOUR CHEATING (but it’s just an otome game)

I accept almost anybody from BNHA, except a fewwww (Overhaul, Endeavor, Kurogiri, that’s probably it tbh) anyways thank you for the requesfksnsksk!

MIDORIYA

Midoriya was on his way to your dorm, excited to finally spend some time with you after a few weeks because he had extensive training with All Might. He was right in front of your door, and almost entered, and right when he cracked the door he heard,

“He’s so cute! Ugh, yes I would love to go out with you!” Izuku’s breath hitched.

You heard a creak and turned to see Midoriya’s head peeking through the door, with his eyebrows furrowed. You smiled and waved,

“Hey Midoriya! I was waiting for you, I was thinking today we could-

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes faltered, taken aback at his rough tone.

“Tell you...what exactly? Was Bakugo talking about me again? Everytime that loser opens his mouth I swear-

“IF YOU DIDN’T LIKE ME ANYMORE JUST TELL ME. DON’T- don’t lead me on like some lovesick dog.” He shouted, tears ready to fall at any second. You looked at him mouth wide open.

“Izuku, I do like you? I love you quite a lot that’s why I’m dating you, what’s-what’s the problem?” You cried, confused at why he was looking so angry with you.

“I heard you! Calling- WHOEVER THAT WAS CUTE, AND SAYING YOU WOULD GO OUT WITH THEM! H-HOW COULD YOU?” He sputtered out, wiping the tears out of his eyes with an aggressive fist. You looked at him and a slight grin began to grow. You walked over to him.

“You mean...this guy right here?” You say as you lift up your phone to show some animated boy on your screen, with the words ‘I will pick you up at 8, my love’ showing up from a speech bubble. Midoriya stepped back, processing what he had just read.

“S-so...you’re not cheating on me?” He said with big eyes.

“No, it’s just an otome game baby, I could and frankly would never. I love you too much.” You whispered, running your hand through the hair on the back of his head and he hugged you.

“Oh...I’m sorry baby, I didn’t realize-

“It’s alright. Let’s just go lay down yeah? I found this awesome movie I think we would like!”

Just like that, Midoriya was back to being your lovesick puppy. Was there something wrong with that?

URARAKA

Uraraka wasn’t one to be too nervous about cheating. I mean, you were hers. Who was there that would even make you think about being whisked away from the bond that you two had? Apparently, there was somebody. And apparently, you didn’t mind.

Uraraka was walking out of the school, ready to go home and get all of her homework over with. Present Mic had no mercy for the kids of 1-A. As she walked she saw you, beautiful you, out of the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, he’s the best! I can’t believe how flirtatious he is though...not that I mind” you say as your friends laugh and giggle with you. Uraraka covers her mouth, and for a second she almost thinks about ignoring it.

You and her had something special. She knew it. You knew it. So what was it that she had done that had made you resort to somebody else? Was this her fault? Either way, maybe if she ignored it and tried to be a little better for you, there would be no reason to cheat. But that thought was quickly pushed away as Ochako knew her worth. She stomped over to your group and pulled you away by your bag.

“Woah! Ochako what’s wrong with you? I thought you were going to go home and do Present Mic’s 27-inch tall packet?” You laughed as you faced her. But she couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She couldn’t even find it in her to look at you, so she chose her oh so boring shoes.

“So, who is it.” She states, biting her tongue. Her heart was shattering, but what could she do?

“Who is...who? Did I miss something or are you having short term memory loss.” You joked, smiling at her.

“STOP JOKING AROUND. JUST- JUST TELL ME WHO IT IS AND WE CAN BREAK UP AND I CAN LEAVE. PLEASE.” She yelled, voice cracking aggressively. You stepped back, your smile dropping in an instant.

“Ochako, I don’t know who told you what, and I don’t know what you think you’ve figured out, but I don’t know who you’re talking about or what you mean.” You explain slowly, trying to analyze her anger.

“I heard you. I heard you talking about some stupid guy and how flirty he is and all that and well...I’m not mad...I could never be mad at you. But please, don’t push me to the sidelines.” She begged, tears falling vigorously. Your eyes widened as she spoke. She finally looked at you and seeing her eyes as red as they were broke you the most.

“Ochako...there is no boy. I could never, I would never want to. We’re us remember? There’s nobody out there who could take me away from you but...I think I know what you meant” You said as you held up your phone. She saw the boy on the screen giving you a despicable smirk and the relief washed off her face and she relaxed in front of your intense love-filled eyes. This was all some big misunderstanding. And her sweetheart was just playing some stupid game. And the boy- wasn’t real. She grabbed you arm and pulled you into her.

“I love you. I love you so, so much. Never leave me.” She whispers.

“Where would I find anyone better?”

KIRISHIMA

Kirishima was the type who could be insecure but would never tell you about it. To project his problems and insecurities onto you would be rude of him. They’re his problems, not yours. However today, all would be set free.

Eijiro was walking past your lunch table to go and get some yogurt. Usually you two would sit together every other day because you liked to interact with all other members of the class so you usually sat with a somebody else on days like today. And as you sat with Mina, Uraraka, and Tsuyu, Kirishima heard you say something that could have made him pass away on the spot,

“Guys I’m telling you she’s so hot. Like please come get me, she even asked me out!” You screeched with a grin as the other girls smiled back.

“And what did you say to her?” Mina giggled.

“YES! WHAT WOULD YOU SAY MINA!” You said as you jokingly rolled your eyes. “If God requests I take the opportunity” you all laughed and as you saw Kiri out of the edge of your eye you gave him a smile. The sweetest smile, God he was in love with you. But...did you feel the same? He decided that he didn’t want to make a scene and waved back at you with the best smile he could manage.

Later on that day as Kirishima sat in your room, as you doodled in your notebook he glanced at you and decided to bring up the dreadful fact. That you didn’t want him anymore.

“So what did I do.” Eijiro whispered. It was so quiet but since there was no noise you heard it easily. You looked up at him confused.

“What?” You asked, your eyebrow raising.

“What did I do. To make you find somebody else?” He asked, looking away from you. Eijiro knew that if he looked at you he would cave. He would always cave for you.

“I haven’t found somebody else? I’m not too sure who told you that but-

“STOP LYING. I HEARD IT. I HEARD YOU. TALKING ABOUT SOME GIRL AND HOW SHE ASKED YOU OUT. I KNOW I’M NOT PERFECT, AND I KNOW I AM NOT AS SMART, OR AS ATTRACTIVE AS OTHER PEOPLE BUT I THOUGHT- I THOUGHT YOU COULD LOOK PAST THAT. I THOUGHT YOU DID LOOK PAST THAT.” He yelled, his fists clenching and unclenching when the pain became too much. You couldn’t even answer at first but the first thing you could think was..is that really how he saw himself? Not good enough?

“Eiji...what do you mean you’re not as smart or attractive? Who- where did you even get that from?” You choked out as tears began to build. You couldn’t help it, yelling was never something you could take.

“Does it matter?” He spat.

“Yes! God yes it does. Because Eiji you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are incredibly smart when it comes to hero work, why would I care about some test grade made by old people with no life? And handsome...Kirishima you are so handsome that I stare at you everyday and wonder how you wanted me. You could have anybody, with your personality, your looks, and your talent combined what could I give you? Seeing you now...it hurts Eiji. I love you, you will always be more than enough for me.” You sputtered out. You tried moving closer but he moved away from you once again as tears fell down your eyes and built up in his.

“Well obviously I wasn’t enough because you found somebody else.” He ranted as you shook your head.

“No no no, Kiri I didn’t find anybody I was talking about some otome game I found! There is nobody else sweetheart- there could never be anybody else.” You whispered as you tried one last time to move closer. And Kirishima didn’t move.

“Really? There is nobody else? You still...you still love me?” He cheered as he hugged you tight, and put his head in your neck as you two sat there in a peaceful embrace.

“Of course not. I have you. Everything I need, and so, so much more. I love you Kiri.” You whispered as you kissed his cheek.

“I love you. Until the end of time.” Lord knows Kiri would love you even after that.

FIN

Okayyyy that was my first request jesus christ- I tried to kinda give the reader different personalities because I don’t really like it when people make all their readers have the same personality like- there are so many people in the world! Anyways I think I need to make a page on what I will and will not write but the list is quite open. Platonic, romantic, up to 5 people for a headcannon, and no smut...That’s simple right? (no.)

Anyways thank you all for reading!!! <3

[cottoncandyjester]

Joining rin’s gang is no easy thing

Warning this contains: dark topics, Rin being a little feral, talk of noncon

“I said no. How many times to I have to say it stop asking”

Rin hissed out as he was doing his clown makeup infront of the bathroom mirror. You have been asking to join his gang for months now and each time it’s the same..flat out rejection. He was about to leave to meet up with his gang and luckily you were stubborn and weren’t giving up

“I thought you said anyone can join! I’m in that anyone group”

“Actually you are a special case, the answer is no y/n just drop it we aren’t some kids club” Rin said firmly and you huff3: “I know that! What is the real reason you won’t let me join?” You asked and Rin slammed the makeup brush on the table barley even able to do his makeup cause you were pestering him.

“Y/n, there are murders in there. People who do violating things, things I order them too so if I were to tell you to kill someone would you really do it?” Rin said lowly and you got serious giving him a nod.

“Let me join Rin.”

“I’m a different person when I’m with them, so different. You ready for that?” He stated and you gave another firm nod.

It wasn’t long til Rin and you walked inside the building disguised as a clown rental. Rin was dressed in a jester like outfit face painted up, after walking down a hallway he kicked open a set of doors

“My babies!”

“Boss!”

He was soon surrounded by loss of people all dressed up as clowns and each having their own special theme, you awkwardly moved over to a corner waiting to be introduced or something. It didn’t take long for someone to notice you

“Are you new sweetheart? I haven’t seen your face around here” you heard a gentle tone and looked up to see a tall male leaning down smiling brightly at you, he wasn’t dressed in makeup or crazy clown attire instead he had a black lab coat with rainbow polka dots all over.

“I-um, y-yeah” you stammered out nervously shocked to see someone who looked downright gentle and pretty in a gang. Rin finally turned back to you and grinned “ohhhhh BB~” he chimed out standing tall and gazing at Rin “yes boss?”

“Can you have our new comer tested? The rest of us are gonna start the other preparations” Rin chimed out now humming excitedly as he swayed side to side much like a child.

“Certainly, come with me okay there honey?” The one named BB chimed out soft grabbing your wrist and pulling you along.

“Your name is BB?”

“That’s the one that was picked for me after I completed the test we all have a real name and a clown name” he explained as he walked you to a medical room before letting you go and turning to a shelf.

“What am I getting tested for?”

“STDs or anything with that. A lot of members get intimate so it’s a safety thing take a seat on the examination table for me please” the male stated as he held an empty syringe in his hand wiping your arm with an alcohol wipe

“You don’t look like a member”

“I don’t do the things they do, I’m simply a medic patching them up and what not, now stay still okay?” He asked as he pressed the needle in taking some blood from you making you wince lightly.

“What’s the test to join like”

“I’m sorry, I can’t say” he said as he took the syringe and poured your blood into a machine that tested it. While you two waited for the tests to print he ended up making you a clear glove balloon filling it up with rainbow glitter, he also ended up feeding you a bunch of snacks he had stashed away. Of course you were clean and once done BB walked you to the spot humming softly as he did, he took you outside to a garden area that led out into a thick woods area. Outside stood Rin and the others, all having different weapons in their hand.

“Good luck sugarplum” bb said before giving you a hug “look for a maple tree marked with a star symbol, in the leaves should be something to aid you..please be careful” he whispers before letting you go and softly pushed you infront towards Rin who was tossing and knife in the air catching it skillfully

“Last chance y/n, you sure you want this?” Rin asked out and you gulped giving a nod making him sigh before turning to the group flashing a smile “okayyyy! You know the rules! you got an hour to catch the bunny, if you do you get to violate them until you’re satisfied but if time runs out the bunny wins and they are a part of the family!” Rin cheered out making your heart beat faster as all eyes were on you and your body looked ranging from hunger to bloodlust and even a murderous excitement filled their eyes.

“Ears please tutu” Rin demanded and soon an excited pastel clown girl skipped up to you placing bunny ears on you “please lose, I’ve been itching to try my new toys on a girl!” She cheered out before skipping back to her area. Rin walked up to you eyes no longer having that sweet loving look but instead had a murderous excitement

“If I catch you, god knows what I’ll do..so run okay? Run really really fast and make sure you hide cause if I catch you..” Rin paused now holding you close “I’ll cut your stomach open and fuck the hole until you die..” Rin whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek now pulling back

“Now! What do bunnies do folks?”

“They hop!”

Everyone cheered as Rin stabbed you right in the leg digging the blade in deep and leaving it in there “a weapon for the bunny..to make it fair now hop along bunny, you have a five minute head start”

You were crying in pain and panic filled your eyes as you realized what will happen if you were to lose..why did you think this was a good idea? With a shaky huff you ignored the pain and ran for the woods remembering what BB said about the tree, maple tree with a star. Okay got it

After five minutes Rin set a timer for an hour “alright, time to play!”

[laceymorganwrites]

Why do I feel like I’m the only Mikey and Kazutora Stan you like XD

-Chaotic

(probably because I vibe with the fact that you don’t care for Kazutora because honestly the only reason redeemed Kazutora has more fans than redeemed endeavor is because he’s pretty and more shippable)

because

1. you don´t attack me and I can actually talk to you like a normal person because we both respect each other and our opinions

2. we both ignore canon like everyone should (also every time I talk about Kazu w u I picture an alternate version of him where he never killed Shin so that helps too, it´s the same way I portray him in my fic, makes it easier for me because in canon I do blame him a lot but for different things that ppl think)

3. the Mikey thing w me is super complicated because I hate it when ppl only see him as the cute murder baby and not the complex person that he is. like yes he needs a hug or ten but he has too much shit going on to just ignore that imo (also can adults pls stop thirsting for the explicit past and minor Mikey when they read the manga, thank you very much)

4. and oh boy am I gonna use this to rant abt Enji? Am I using every opportunity I get to rant abt this man? um yes so here goes:

- I think both redemption arcs are equally well done

- I hate how in my friend group I´m the only one who reads the manga and has read the redemption arc and boiii I have so many opinions

- like the same chapter I fell in love with Enji is the same chapter I started hating Rei and obv it was the opposite just before that. But his arc is so emotional and I hate it when ppl are like: yeah he doesn´t deserve redemption, he can´t just show up again and spend time w his kids

and I´m like: you do know that this doesn´t happen over night? that he´s not like: oh yeah let the past be the past and all be besties

that he suffers from his mistakes every day? that he actually and truly regrets the things he´s done and would do everything for his family? the fact that he cried before his kids proves that for me as well (also fuck Rei for being like: oh you´re the only hero this family has left, Shoto. like Enji´s not there in the hospital bed, opening up his heart but okayyyy)

I sadly agree w ur reasons for the fact that Kazu´s redemption is more accepted than Enji´s >.< but I mean I wrote a fic w him and my oc Luna out of spite so yeah xD

[seijorhi]

asks :)

Below the cut 💕

OMFG I JUST READ UR SPLIT FIC AND AHHHHHHHHHHHH IT WAS SO GOOD. Ur such a good writer I’m jealous

BBY!!! I’M GLAD YOU LIKED IT!!! but fr no need to be jealous it’s just some horny ramblings 👉👈

I just wanted to say that I LOVE your haikyuu fics! Especially the Oikawa/Iwa soulmate au one! Just a quick question tho, would their darling be able to turn the duo against eachother? Like maybe she/he/they prefers Iwa more than Oikawa and that could lead to some competition?

ok i’ve talked about this a little bit before in another ask but my tags are a mess and i can’t find it but tbh i think it would be almost impossible for their darling to actually turn them against each other - even in a tiny way just because their own relationship with each other is rock solid. Iwa knows how to deal with Oikawa at his worst and vice versa. if you do end up showing preference to one over the other - say you cling to Iwa because he doesn’t go as hard on his punishments or Oikawa because a pissed off Iwa scares you they’re gonna notice, and there is nothing like a little exposure therapy to cure your fears.

Inquiring minds need to know: does the slasher trio fuck you in front of their victims? When they’re alive? When they’re dead? Both???

Bruh.... I think you know the answer to that ;)

I just read Final Girl and I just wanna say that it scared the shit out of me??? I rarely watch horror let alone slasher movies and most of the time I imagine what would happen if they keep one of their victims and your fic just damn. It was scary good

you have no idea how happy that makes me?? because like when i write fics i’m trying to convey emotions and build tension and stuff but until somebody else reads it you never know if it’s actually worked?? so this makes me all 🥺

Yo I just read your Shiggy fic the chikan and boy oh boy I am a huge fan of it. He’s so gross but it does something to me and I don’t know why but I’m here for it. Also I love your writing I may or may not have just binged your blog but it was so good and I just could not help myself 😅, anyway I hope you have a good day!

SHIGGY SUPREMACY!! no but i took so long with that fic and now i just wanna write a bunch more creeper shigaraki i love him sm! anyway thank you fo being such a sweetheart - i hope your day’s going well too!!

Idk if it's thirsting hours, but I'm a horny bastard, so I'm just gonna express myself. Every time, I watch Ushijima show emotion and get excited about volleyball, I think about Outrunning Fate and daydream about the kind of face he would make while he rails a resistant, crying reader. And I feel like Tendou would just watch his facial expressions for a while because this is a side of Ushi he's never seen, and he just wants to admire him. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. @ks350

so it’s not exactly a secret that Ushi’s a little... stoic, but with things he genuinely cares about - volleyball, and you guessed it, his adorable little resistant soulmate - that’s when he lets himself soften a touch, smiling easier, seemingly without even realising it. He tends to get a little carried away when he’s fucking her because he’s honestly just so fucking content, this is exactly where he’s supposed to be and nothing else matters, not even your pretty tears and soft whimpers for him to stop. Of course Tendou’s gonna watch!

Okayyyy so I just read Split and, as always, your writing is superbbbb. Osamu acting like he was innocent in the whole situation? Atsumu being the sadistic little shit that he is? 💯 My brain is just full of thoughts of the Miya Brothers that I decided to read their Soulmate AU this early in the morning and I noticed how the party was set in the new captain's house.

And OMG as third years Atsumu's the new captain of Inarizaki and holy fuck there's a huge possibility the reader, their soulmate, just lost her V card in either of the twin's room or bed. Wouldn't that situation be a cluster fuck that drove them both crazy to do those things at the end after denying reader? Goshhhh I love this little subtle details in your fic. You are such a genius writer that endless possibilities are available to be interpreted by us readers. Thank you so much Rhi 💖💖💖 @pamdamonyum

👀 sqirugpq3urnioklnjk you’re a sweetheart 

but can you imagine if it was Atsumu’s bed and he was the one to find you and the soccer captain? because like i genuinely debated about having them kick his ass and i think in that circumstance... not even Samu would be able to hold him back!

❤️❤️😍😘💕✌️

I love you too, you funky little anon

Ok omg split was amazing! I have to share smth tho when my bro and I were kids (like pretty young), when one of us did something “bad” we’d be like “no that wasn’t me it wasn’t me it was my evil twin,” and like then we’d forgive the other and shit talk abt our “evil” versions bc it wasn’t the “good” twin’s fault lol. So the “Osamu you promised!” “Osamu isn’t here rn,” had me dying. Like so perfect. What bs. Then the end with Osamu “I couldn’t stop him” miya like oh yeah ofc just your evil twin nothing you could have done 🙄 like it was so perfect, I loved it!

aw that’s actually really cute tho! i honest to god think that Osamu’s worse in this one - at least Atsumu never pretends to be anything other than what he is. Osamu’s just as toxic and warped, but he acts like the hero, like it wasn’t his obsession that started this all

So, I just read the Dear Old Friend Osamu drabble and I couldn't help but grin. The implications I got from it and the initial one-shot were the following;

1. Atsumu is a titties man, considering how much he bit and teased them in DOF.

2. 'Samu I don't have a favourite twin how dare you is an ass man considering how many words of that drabble were dedicated to his thoughts lingering on the titular dear old friend's arse.

And I'm just LIVING for it because they really do complete each other in that regard. But also because 'Samu strikes me as the kind of guy that likes face sitting and spanking his partner while they sandwich his face between their thighs. And Atsumu strikes me as the kind of person that likes just randomly fiddling with his partner's tiddies because tiddy = fun.

Also, hi! I love your writing! Pretty sure this is my first ask, even though it's not, really??? @pavlovs-titties

ahh you’re so sweet, thank you bby!!

and yeah, Atsumu’s definitely a tiddies kinda guy and Osamu prefers ur butt (but also not me writing that little drabble because i wanted to tease the idea Osamu have his turn leaving his mark on the reader by spanking her till she’s nice and sore 😉)

Baby, you were amazing ❤️! I don't know how I still get surprised by your awesomeness, but I do. You're amazing and no one can tell you different 🥺🥰

💖💖💖 sdfghjhgj you’ve got me all blushy and soft, thank you!!! 

the jokes on you tho because in actual fact you’re the one who’s amazing?? ily!!

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #501: Heartfelt Reunion (RWBY)

Nora: MY BABY BOYYYYYYYYYYYY!!! (Immediately Rushes Inside the Bar and Hug Tackles Oscar into the Ground with Tears and Mascara Falling Down her Face) I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE OKAYYYY!!...(Cries Softly Onto her Embrace with Oscar)

Oscar: (Smiles Softly While Hugging Nora Back) I'm really glad to see you too, Nora.

?????: Oscar.....

The duo turns to see Jaune and Ren staring below them with tears and relief in their eyes.

Jaune: (Almost at a the Loss of Words) Y-You're okay......('Sniff') Oh thank the brothers that you're okay! (Rushes Over to Nora and Oscar to Hug Them)

Ren: Oscar, what happened?! (Immediately Rushes over to his Team/Family to Join in on the Group Hug) At the base....W-We saw you ran off and everything! We thought we really lost you.....

Jaune: Oscar......Is it really true that.....

Oscar: Ironwood shot me? ('Sighs Heavily') Yeah........ It's the truth......

'Dead Silence'

Ren: Bastard.......

Nora: (Already Has Dark Expression Around her Eyes in Anger).........It's official......The next time I see him..... I am going to break both of his entire legs in half.......

Oscar: Wouldn't blame you if you did really......

Jaune: Wait. If that's the case, then....How are you still alive?

Nora: Y-Yeah? Did your aura broke? Did you finally developed a semblance?

Oscar: .........................

Ren: (Starts Getting Worried) Oscar?

Oscar: Guys.........If I tell you, could you promise me you won't be mad me?

Jaune: Buddy.....Of course we'll promise not to be mad. Why wouldn't we be?

Oscar: (Took a Deep Breath Before Speaking Again) Because it involves Ozpin coming back ......

Ren: (Eyes Widened) What?

Nora: (Eyes Widened in Surprised) O-Oz?

Jaune: (Already Speechless).........

Oscar: (Slowly Nodded) Yeah......I honestly wouldn't even be here if it weren't for him coming back and save me. I think I even obtain some of his magic and everything. I-I know you guys are still upset with him and everything, but-

Jaune: (Pulls Oscar Back into a Loving Hug)

Oscar: (Taken Back from Jaune's Sudden Hug) J-Jaune?

Jaune: I'm just.....('Sniff') Too happy and relieved for you being here and okay to even care right now, you know?.......

'Scroll Rang'

Jaune: (Gently Pull Oscar Away for a Second) Hang on....(Takes out his Scroll out of his Pocket) I have to take this....(Takes the Call) Hello?....... We're in a bar......You won't believe who we found.... It's Oscar....('Sniff') He's okay...... N-No. I'm not tricking you or anything! I'm telling you the truth. Oscar is here with us right now as we speak!........('Sigh') Okay. (Turns to Oscar) Hey, Oscar?

Oscar: Hm?

Jaune: (Gives his Scroll to Oscar) It's Ruby. She wants to speak with you.

Oscar: Okay. (Answers Ruby's Call) H-Hello?

Ruby: (On the Other Line) O-O-Oscar.....I-Is it really you?......

Oscar: Yeah. It's me, Ruby. I'm okay now-

Before he could even finish his sentence, Oscar expression Immediately turn into shock, worry, and then heartbroken once he heard Ruby begins to cry her eyes out on the other line.

Oscar: Ruby.........

Ruby: (Still Crying and Whimpering) ('Hic') O-O-Os....('Sniff') car-

'Call Abruptly Ended'

Oscar: (Starts Getting Worried) Ruby?!

Jaune: Crap......I forgot to charge up my scroll before we got here....Sorry, Oscar....

Oscar: (Brings Jaune his Scroll Back to Him) Don't worry, Jaune. It's fine. I....Never heard Ruby cry like that before.....

Ren: That's because she was worried sick about you....We all were....

Oscar: (Immediately Starts Feeling Terrible) You guys....I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-

Jaune: (Hugs Oscar Yet Again) It's okay, Oscar. We understand why you ran off like that. Just....('Sniff') please, please, please, please promise all of us that you will never do that again.

Ren: (Joins in on the Hug as Well) Please.....

Oscar: Don't worry, you guys. I won't leave you guys like that again. I promise.

Nora: (Joins in on the Group Hug) ('Sniff') You....Are in so much trouble once we get back to the others, mister.

Oscar: (Chuckles Lightly) I know, Nora. I'm just....(Tears Fell Down his Face) Really happy to see you guys again, you know? I love you.....

Nora: (Kiss the top of Oscar's Head) We love you too, Oscar sweetie....

@optimisticfruitcup

@albion-93

@keyenuta

@miki-13

@rozanime

@littlemisssquiggles

@oscarpineprotectionsquad

@maripr

[itsanerdlife]

Everything You Want 13/18

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Lies. Fuck ton of lies. So many lies. Lots of secrets. So many fucking secrets. Language. Violence. Slow Burn. Lots of fighting. Heartbreak. Death threats. Kidnapping. Murder.

Someone is coming for you and your son, Anthony. Too many secrets and too many enemies for you to count. You got out, for reasons. Secret reasons, only Clint Barton knows. Or so you think? Clint takes you back to the safest place there is, Avengers Tower. But how are you supposed to face Peter? Keep your secrets in check? Keep your feelings under wraps? It’s been almost two years, can you really keep it together? You just need to put an end to whoever wants you. Than walk away, like everything is the same, right? Or will you be the one surprised? Everything blows up, leaving you holding the shreds of your secrets and fear.

Tag List Is Open!!

You step on the elevator, Anthony in your arms.

“Own.” He pleads, trying to wiggle down your side. 

You help him stand on his feet, holding his one hand, Wanda takes the other. He grins, content to be standing, even a little unsteady on the moving box. You grin at him, he wore the little outfit Nat picked up for him, a navy blue, button down onesie, and tan pants, with the little black converse Peter had argued he needed. He wore a matching navy blue beanie to keep his wild brown hair tamed for the night.

He matched you in color, your long sleeved, maxi, wrap dress is navy blue. The front v-ed, held shut by the tie around the waist, a slit in the front left from the over lapping material. Your heels matched in color, and your hair pulled into a messy braid over your shoulder. The doors slide open, you and Wanda hold Anthony’s hands, as he walks between the two of you.

“There’s my little man!” Tony claps his hands, a massive grin on his face. “You look breathe taking as well.” He kisses your cheek.

“Thank you.” You blush as Tony scoops Anthony up. You look up as Clint pats Peter on the chest, a smirk on his lips. You faintly hear Clint’s voice.

“Breathe.” He chuckles. Peter’s lips turn up into a crooked grin as he watches you.

“He might get hungry. So, don’t stray far.” You warn Tony.

“I have a bottle of mom’s house white behind the bar just in case.” Tony chuckles, kissing Anthony’s cheeks. You laugh, shaking your head at Tony’s antics. “Enjoy yourself, Y/N. When’s the last time you had any fun?” He winks at you. Your head tips ever so slightly as you watch him. Wondering if there was hidden meaning in his words, knowing Tony? Of course, there was. “Your bag is behind the bar, if you need it.” Clint kisses your cheek. “Thanks.” You look him over, brushing a hand down his suit jacket.

“Come have a drink.” Wanda grins, grabbing your hand. “Oh, that’s probably not a good idea.” You laugh. “Scared of a little fun, or just what you might do with a lower tolerance?” Buck chuckles, joining your group. He pokes Anthony in the belly, lightly causing Anthony to full belly laugh.

“I am not scared of fun. I believe fun is what got me that.” You point at Anthony.

“No.” Your son laughs, reaching for Bucky.

“Oh like you would know.” You roll your eyes as Bucky laughs, taking Anthony from Tony.

“Stop being a baby.” Nat swats you on the ass, making you laugh. “The best parts about Tony’s parties are the alcohol and all the shameful things we remember in the morning.” She grins, wiggling her finger at you as her eyebrows slip up and down. “I believe there are several memories I still have very fondly of you, oh shoot and what was that one?” She taps her chin.

“The skinny dipping.” Buck chuckles.

“The table dancing.” Tony winks.

“The body shots.” Wanda smirks.

“Strip poker.” Clint snorts.

“Okayyyy!” You hold up your hands. “Are you trying to convince me to drink or stick to my sobriety?” You flush pink.

“Peter, what’s your favorite memory?” Wanda grins, playfully. He chuckles. His hands in the pockets of his suit pants.

“Too many to pick one.” He shrugs one shoulder, smirking at you.

“I’ll take that drink.” You clear your throat, before swallowing. Following Nat and Wanda towards the bar, as you scold yourself for flushing at Peter’s remark. 

----------

“I’m going to put him in my room. I’ll have FRIDAY on alert and the video put straight to my phone.” Clint explains, Anthony is sound asleep on his shoulder. Unphased by the party, chatter and music going on around him. You swore the kid could sleep through World War III sometimes, he slept so hard and sound.

“Let me know if you need me.” You nod, leaning in kissing Anthony’s cheek. Clint nods, before he starts off for the elevator. You watch him go, wondering if you should follow, call it a night and avoid temptation.

“Dance with me.” His voice makes you turn around, coming face to face with him. Peter smirks, his hand out, waiting for your own.

“Oh, um.” You flush pink. Tony bumps you from behind. You stumble forward and into Peter’s arms. Your head snaps around, glaring at the smug man wandering away. “Sure.” You straighten up, as Peter chuckles. 

He leads you out among the others dancing together, pulling you into him. His other arm slipping around your waist. The two of you fall into an easy, simple, slow dance together. So why were you so god damn nervous?

“You know, Tony’s right.” Peter’s voice was soft, only for you to hear. You glance up at him, confused. “You look breathe taking.” The corner of his mouth twitches up. You smile softly, looking down at your hand on his shoulder.

“You were always a weakness in a suit.” You reply, smiling.

What was the harm? Flirting with Peter, it was like breathing, and no matter what, when you left it was going to hurt like hell. So why avoid it, when you didn’t want to in the first place? Leaving again would be like learning to breathe after having your lungs ripped out, but you might as well soak it up while you have it at your fingertips.

“Y/N,” his mouth was close to your ear now. Warm breathe against your skin made you shiver before you could stop it.

“Peter,” your voice shakes, as your eyes sink closed, fear of what was going to fall from his lips next.

“Stay.” His voice soft and serious. “I love you.” Your heart jumps to your throat, and your stomach twists.

“Don’t.” You plead.

“But I do. Always have.” He leans slightly back to look at you.

“Well stop.” You swallow, avoiding looking at him.

“No. I don’t want too.” He retorts. The two of you no longer dancing, he was still holding you though.

“Damn you Peter Parker.” You rip yourself away from him. You instantly miss the feeling of him, but you shake your head. “You don’t love me. Don’t kid yourself.” You look away.

“Don’t tell me what I feel. I know I love you and I have for years. I loved you when I pushed you away, when I let you leave. I still do.” He blinks at you.

“You know nothing about me now. You would hate me if you knew.” You shake your head, you swat his hand away from you. You turn walking off. You head for the elevator, you knew it was going to happen. You’d only hoped it wasn’t going to be so soon.

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

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @all1e23 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @crist1216 @a--1--1--3 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @nishanki1 @bugalouie @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @tomhardy41 @abschaffer2 @justrae9903 @tony-stank3 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @callie-bear15 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @amberkay284 @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11

@elite4cekalyma @this-is-mycrisis @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @xrosegoldwolfx @paintballkid711 @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @optimistic-babes @childishhoebinoo @elizabethaellison @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @nerdypinupcrystal @atlas-of-the-world @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @dumbbitchenergytm @abbypalmer14-blog @fanfictionjunkie1112 @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx   @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mustbeaweasleyginger @mcuwillbethedeathofme @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy   @dottirose   @jcc04220 @rockagurl @mizzzpink   @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers   @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters   @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00   @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect  

Peter ‘Fuck Me I’m Weak’ Parker: @ml7010 @ariminiria @dkpink123 @boltsgirl919 @quokkatrash   @everthenerd @ms-rogers06 @crayonwriting @baebeepeach @bellamouse16 @honey-bee-holly @messofamasterpiece @britkane-shsl-librarian @kiss-the-stars-goodbye

Everything You Want: @gabile18 @kriswu46 @starkbelova @bellewithbooks @princessizzy36 @little-dr-cranberry @tom-hollands-blog @simply-sams-things @misswritingintherain @hitoshi-s-stupid-bitch @verymuchclosetedfangirl

[wellhalesbells]

I see you reblogging some comic stuff an I was wondering if you have a favorite comic or favorite character or ship?

this ask is from so long ago but [DEEP BREATH IN] i’m finally going to answer it, nonny.  finally.  i kept wanting to read a little bit farther in my comics stack because.... maybe i’ll like that and will regret not having recced it, i just hafta--get--to it, see?  and, honestly, i’m still there BUT, come on, i’ll never be caught up because that would mean comics would just have to stop coming out and i would be sad forever if that happened, SO

i’m not even going to pretend like i can narrow this down to one comic.  (one ship?  sure, that’s spideypool.  one character?  sure, that’s the merc with a mouth, the regenerating degenerate, wade motherfucking wilson.  but one comic?!)  there is just straight-up too much out there to make a definitive ‘yes, this is it, this is THE ONE ™ ’ statement.  instead, uh, let’s break this shit down, yeah?  (super special secret bonus round, will note all lgbt+ rep and standalone comics.)  in no particular order, here the frig it goes!

HORROR

infidel, by pornsak pichetshote and aaron campbell.  in case you haven’t seen this on every 2018 best list ever, here it is.  and, yeah, it was good.  a muslim-american main character living in a haunted apartment building where the entities feed off the xenophobia of its occupants.  if that’s not a fucking modern horror story i don’t know what is.

spread, by justin jordan and kyle strahm.  THIS IS ONE OF MY NEW AND ALREADY ALL-TIME FAVORITES.  what an awesomely weird and epic story.  the spread is an uncontrollable, unstoppable monster-making force that humanity accidentally unleashed by digging too deep.  it infects everything it touches and basically all of humanity is running from quarantine to quarantine just hoping for the best.  and speaking of hope.... she’s a baby, rescued by no, and the only thing that’s ever been able to stop the spread.  also, no’s gay?  and i just DID NOT see that coming.  it seems like it’s going to be such a formulaic, bro-y story about the action hero who kisses the face off his girl (her name’s molly and she’s batshit insane and amazing) and instead, nope, it is not that at all.  lgbt+ main characters.

the black monday murders, by jonathan hickman and tomm coker.  hate capitalism?  think all the rich and powerful are evil, soul-sucking monsters?  [obnoxious, low-budget commercial sound effects] MAN, HAVE I GOT THE SERIES FOR YOU.

the beauty, by jeremy haun and jason a. hurley.  i just started this recently but so far, oh my good golly gosh, i looove it.  a sexually transmitted disease that makes you conventionally gorgeous.... at least before it explodies you.  [wide, creepy smile]  the art is gorgeous, the characters are aces and i am very, very pleased so far.  lgbt+ minor characters.

the great divide, by ben fisher and adam markiewicz.  this?  was a COOL idea.  the execution stumbled a bit but, gosh, was it neat.  it’s post-apocalyptic where touching another person will literally kill.... one of you.  the survivor then absorbs the memories of the person who dies, taking on a ‘rider.’  some people collect them, some people go mad, some form a bond, all have the side effect of dyslexia.  like i said, neat as all get out.  lgbt+ minor-ish/main-ish character.  standalone.

revival, by tim seely and mike norton.  a rural town in wisconsin experiences ‘miracle day,’ where the dead rise again.... except, they were kinda already mourned and buried and this is really just fucking up the status quo.

the woods, by james tynion iv and michael dialynas.  a high school gets picked up and plopped down in an entirely new, and wickedly hostile universe.  it’s all survival and alliances and seeing what you’re really made of when it comes down to it.  lgbt+ main characters. 

clean room, by gail simone and jon davis-hunt.  a cult, a journalist and a clean room walk into a bar...

anya’s ghost, by vera brosgol.  you think it’ll be a cute story of a girl and her ghost.  HA HA THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENS AT ALL, OKAY.

FANTASY

rumble, by john arcudi and james harren.  SCARECROW WARRIOR GOD, SCARECROW WARRIOR GOD, SCARECROW WARRIOR GOD!!!  okay, first off, the art in this?  pushes every friggin’ button i’ve got, and many i did not know i had.  second, this book is so fucking fun.  it’s mythology that’s balls to the wall ridiculous, funny, and features a main character whose life motto is basically: ‘do i have to?’  infinitely relatable and then some.

heathen, by natasha alterici and rachel deering.  UGH, ONE OF MY FAVORITES.  the art is just horribly, horrendously gorgeous and it’s LESBIAN VIKING MYTHOLOGY, OKAY.  OKAYYYY???   lgbt+ main characters.

the wicked + the divine, by kieron gillen and jamie mckelvie.  one of my favorite ever series right here.  it’s a hella cool concept (gods reincarnating as humans every twelve years, and burning up their hosts in two), whip-smart and if you’ve ever met a human being who likes a pun more than kieron gillen i defy you to produce them.  lgbt+ main and minor characters.

batgirl, by gail simone and adrian sayaf and vicente cifuentes.  you know how people rave about gail simone?  there’s a reason people rave about gail simone.  honestly, i’ve never had much interest in babs.  i don’t tend to go for superheroes who don’t kill and i have even less interest in ‘the killing joke’ story line and i am convinced only gail simone could’ve done the recovery on that and she did a GLORIOUS job of it.

red hood and the outlaws, by scott lobdell and dexter soy.  (ignoring recent - and annoying - developments), this is my favorite of all the rebirths dc did.  scott lobdell is the only writer to have gotten the idea down of: okay, we’re starting over, i assume you don’t know anything but i also assume there are a bajillion people reading who know everything, and hit the perfect medium between those two things.  so if you want to start a jason todd run, you legitimately can here, and get all the found family, badassery, batman-teasing enjoyment there is to be had.

iceman, by sina grace and robert gill (covers by kevin wada).  classic super-heroing here and bobby’s first solo title.  he’s figuring out coming out while fighting (and flirting) with baddies.  sina really gets his humor and how truly wonder-awful it is!  lgbt+ main character.

spider-man/deadpool, by joe kelly and ed mcguinness.  watch those names there, those are your guys right there, period.  they looked at the void of a spider-man/deadpool series and filled it with absolutely everything you could possibly want for the pair (sans a hardcore make-out sesh, though they did get a few variant covers with some puckered up lips in there!)

limbo, by dan watters and caspar wijngaard.  a fusion of 80s aesthetics, voodoo elements and a noir tone.  just some remarkably cool shit in this.  the ending, for me, left something to be desired but it was more than worth it to see worship via mixtapes.  standalone.

hawkeye: kate bishop, by kelly thompson and leonardo romero.  kate bishop is, apparently???, a super impossible character for a lot of writers.  kelly thompson is not one of them.  kelly thompson is my favorite kate bishop writer, actually, and the fact that she is ever not writing her is a gd travesty.

the unbeatable squirrel girl, by ryan north and erica henderson.  honestly, i’m so tempted to just stick this under ‘contemporary,’ because it really does just feel very... normal.  doreen’s navigating college, new friendships, and y’know... the squirrely-ness.  this had every opportunity to suck and instead it’s funny as heck, never takes itself too seriously, and is just pure good-hearted entertainment through and through.

wolf, by ales kot and matt taylor.  a paranormal detective and the-possible-antichrist go on a road trip.  people hated this comic and i don’t know how you can hate a comic that has a character called freddy chtonic who has tentacles for a mouth??? 

ms. marvel, by g. willow wilson and adrian alphona.  hi, you read ms. marvel because the world is a garbage fire and people are terrible and your cynicism is at an all time high and then kamala khan waltzes in and reminds you people generally want to help each other and the world improves when we work together and that thing optimists feel?  you’ll feel that for as long as you’ve got the pages open and that’s a magical thing.  lgbt+ minor character.

monstress, by marjorie m. liu and sana takeda.  psychic links with monsters, matriarchal societies, magic and witchery, half-human/half-animal (and other ratios) characters, all through a steampunk lens.  what’s not to like about that??

inhuman, by charles soule.  i love this series, i love the idea of being a total average joe/joanne, getting smacked in the face by a cloud of mist and suddenly having to figure out how to live basically a whole new life.  also, if you don’t fall madly in love with dante pertuz, i don’t even know what to tell you, my dude.

heart in a box, by kelly thompson and meredith mcclaren.  break-ups suck, but only because of that whole pesky broken heart thing, right?  so emma gives hers away.  problem solved, no?  standalone.

i kill giants, by joe kelly and j.m. ken niimura.  i didn’t cry my eyes out or anything.  did not.  standalone.

sex criminals, by matt fraction and chip zdarsky.  having sex = stopping time, which leads suzie and jon to the only logical conclusion: let’s rob some banks!

hawkeye, by matt fraction and david aja.  honestly there are a lot of other artist combos in this run but the only ones that are worthwhile are the ones that have fraction and aja’s names on them - sorry not sorry.

SCIENCE FICTION

black bolt, by saladin ahmed and christian ward.  saladin revived this character one hundred million percent.  there is absolutely a reason this was parading around all over ‘best’ lists when it was released.  it really, really did the damn thing.

saga, by brian k. vaughan and fiona staples.  this is the comic you recommend to people who don’t even like comics because it is that good.  like, my dad - who hadn’t read a comic since he was a pre-teen, eagerly awaits each new trade.  the world-building, the characters, the care put into every single solitary bit of all the things?  unparalleled.  lgbt+ minor characters.

frostbite, by joshua williamson and jason shawn alexander.  a post-apocalyptic story that has humanity dying from a plague that literally freezes you from the inside out.  very neat, very cold, very readable.  standalone.

descender, by jeff lemire and dustin nguyen.  this had a rough start, for me, with the main character of the first trade being tim-21, an android who is literally incapable of having the depth to be a lead BUT that does not last through to the next trade, thank god.  lots of space and found family and world-building in this to be had!  but you know how people rave about jeff lemire?  there’s a reason people rave about jeff lemire.

paper girls, by brian k. vaughan and cliff chiang.  the 80s and time travel and lifelong friendships.  it’s brian k. vaughan, you know it’s good, okay?  why do i even have to sell you here, man?  lgbt+ main characters.

injection, by warren ellis and declan shalvey.  this is another one on my list that started out a little rough but really appealed to me later on.  there was just a lot to absorb in that first trade but, once you’ve got it, the ride gets way, way smoother.   lgbt+ main and minor characters.

black science, by rick remender and matteo scalera.  this was a rocky start, because the main character is such an asshole but in a way where he can’t see he’s an asshole, he’s just a tortured genius who’s superior to all of you, don’t you know? but i am so glad i persevered because if that’s the set up?  the rest of the series is knocking him back down.  super scientist grant mckay finds a way to access the eververse, every possible reality the universe has on offer, and that’s really what causes every single problem that follows.  hard to cause the apocalypse and be an arrogant prick, ya know?

CONTEMPORARY

giant days, by john allison and lissa treiman.  this series is so funny and smart and warm.  these girls are so kind to each other and relatable and failing at adulting regularly and often and i love reading about them.  lgbt+ main character.

lumberjanes, by noelle stevenson and grace ellis and brooke a. allen.  this is funny and ridiculous and kind and cool and all other awesome adjectives and you should read it, fact.  lgbt+ main characters.

my brother’s husband, by gengoroh tagame and anne ishii (translator).  this is such a sweet story about acceptance and family tbh.   lgbt+ main character.

fence, by c. s. pacat and johanna the mad.  i mean... i need to see nicholas and seiji hook-up, i need that, stat.  stat means now!   lgbt+ main characters.

WEB/INDEPENDENT COMICS

long exposure, by kam heyward.  so mitch and jonas are my absolute faves and i love them to death and the author is so kind in that they actually put this up in print on indyplanet so i can read it the way i, personally, love to read comics (and - bonus! - support them with the monies).  lgbt+ main characters.

modern dread, by pat shand and ryan fassett (editors).  i’ve been trying to find more better horror comics lately so i’ve been kind of half-heartedly stumbling through kickstarter on the hunt and this was SUCH a great find.  it’s an anthology but more cleverly done than any other kickstarter anthology i’ve read, with a main story line that seamlessly strings together the would-be-disjointed ones.  this was really thoughtfully put together and really well done!  standalone.

heartstopper, by alice oseman.  a very sweet story about two high school-aged boys becoming fast friends, playing rugby and falling in love.  the two characters are mentioned as an aside in the author’s book, solitaire, and she became so invested in them that she wrote their backstory as a free webcomic.   lgbt+ main characters.

the pale, by jay fabares.  JUST started this (like, just a day or so ago) but i’m enjoying it so far!

hotblood!, by toril orlesky.  i mean... is it a webcomic about a centaur falling in love with his boss?  it just might be.  did i get a bound edition through a kickstarter campaign?  maybe.  maybe i did that.  who’s to say?   lgbt+ main characters.

the bay, by bbz.  life on mars through the lens of three young professionals who form an odd but lasting friendship.  lgbt+ main characters.

hard drive, by artroan.  is it a nsfw comic about a dude and a robot?  .... it might be a nsfw comic about a dude and a robot.  [coughs]   lgbt+ main characters.

seen nothing yet, by tess stone.  a nsfw comic about two amateur ghost hunters.  can’t imagine why i might be interested in that [coughs]   lgbt+ main characters.

captain imani and the cosmic chase, by lin darrow and alex assan.  i mean did i want a starship captain who can’t help but lust after the smuggler he’s chasing.  i mean, maybe i did.  maybe.   lgbt+ main characters.

taproot, by keezy young.  ghost falls in love with boy, boy falls in love with ghost, AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER.  lgbt+ main characters.

always raining here, by bell and hazel.  just two boys falling in lurve.  lgbt+ main characters.

[alitoowell]

One year—365 days—and still I cannot find the words to do justice to the magnitude of gratitude that I feel, and will forever feel, for the magic that was October 22, 2017.  It’s funny because meeting Taylor was always in my mind as a possibility.  In that people DO meet her, so it’s possible.  But I always viewed it as possible, yet unachievable.  People would meet her, but they wouldn’t be ME.  Simply because the odds were too great of being noticed or picked from a crowd.  So I never planned out how it would go, or where, or what I would say, which left me even more absolutely floored when it happened.  Even a year later my brain cannot quite wrap around the fact that the woman who I’ve looked up to since I was 15, who’s music has been the soundtrack to my life for an entire decade, had me over at her house?  I got to hug her?  Dance with her?  And listen to her entire unreleased album and the stories behind it?  That seems unbelievable.  And it will always seem unbelievable because people. don’t. do. that.  But Taylor does.  My friends have been encouraging me for a whole year straight to type everything out, and I never quite got there.  The task seemed too great, I didn’t know where to start, or what words to choose to capture those memories adequately.  In one of those moments of frustration I realized I actually already had written nearly everything—in the no less than 63 messages I sent to my best friend Shaina less than 24 hours later on October 23, 2017.  Though it’s jumbled and not perfect in any way and contains the misspellings and keyboard smashes and all, here’s my Taylor story, a year later, as told the day after it happened—in message form.

~

I MET TAYLOR SWIFT SHDJEKJDKROF

I CANNOT BELIEVE MY LIFE

I HAVEN’T CRIED YET BUT ITS 4 AM AND I THINK ITS FINALLY HITTINGME

photo of wristband

SHE FUCKING DANCED WITH ME DURING LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO LIKE GRABBED MY HAND AND JAMMED WITH ME AS I WAS SHOUTING THE LYRICS GOODBYEEEEEEE

photo of merch

GOODBYEEEEEEEEE

Shaina: You’re lying

IM NOY IM NOT OH MY FOD OH MY FREAKINF GOD

PARKER THOUGHT I WAS DRUNK OF SOMETHING CUZ I WAS SHOUTING VIA TEXT ASKING IF HE WAS UP HOLT SHIT

Shaina: Ok. Spill. I’m shook.

Okay okay so I’m literally about ready to pass out I haven’t slept well since finding out last week and legit got two hours of afterwards last night, well this morning ahhh

And about to board my flight but I’ll try to type quick

So basically her team DMed me last Tuesday saying they’ve noticed what an amazing fan I am and asked for my information

And people have been making fake TN accounts and sending fake messages to be awful, and I thought it was fake because I never expected to ever be contacted

So I’m like in the gym parking lot thank god I didn’t see it while I was still at work

And I realize it has a blue verified check and that it’s legitimate and the last questions was have you ever met Taylor and I LOSE MY SHIT IM IN HYSTERICS IN THE CAR AND CALL MY MOM AND SHE THINKS I GOT IN AN ACCIDENT

So basically I’m a freaking ass mess because I’m 99% it’s for a secret session since at that point one had happened and we all assumed that there would be more cities, and I was almost positive they would NOT send that message to someone and not follow through and call and tell them SOMETHING

So I can’t sleep I leave my phone on cuz I don’t want to miss a call

It of course doesn’t come til the next day while I’m AT WORK

And they freaking ass knew my twitter and tumblr and asked for all my socials and I now know the people I talked to weren’t asked that so that’s weirddddd

Anyway so sure as hell it’s a ‘very special event’ and it’s all too secret and I can’t tell anyone except a parent for safety

And once I confirm I can get myself to LA she gives some instructions and said final details will be emailed  

And so that was Wednesday and I’m crying at work and their dinner was late lol

And I called my mom and was like this weekend Sunday book flights nowwwww

And then the quick version is for the next two days I was practically puking every day so nervous and the email wasn’t coming and I was like shitttttt

So finally on Friday I straight up call Taylor Nation back and get straight through and say my name and she’s like what’s up?! And she says they’re coming out later that day

And so I flew down Saturday and I rented my very first car and took my first legit solo trip in the name of Taylor freaking swift honestly I’m not surprised

And bless Briana’s fam’s heart they were out of town but let me stay in their guest apartment while they were away with no explanation so that was very nice and less stress for me

And then I had to sit from 3:30 Saturday until 5:15 Sunday in LA by myself unable to tell anyone and it was wilddddddd

Like I was like sweeeeeet I can get caught up in my journal!!!  Noooo I deadass sat there and felt like I was dying and about threw up hourly like how the freaking hell do you just casually chill when you know your damn outlandish never thought it would occur dream is about to happen and not only that but like on a times 100 scale?!?!

So basically I went to her damn house and we hung out by the pool and ate food and the weirdest part is I’ve been unable to eat and have been panicking all week but the second I got to the first check point and to her house even more I was just like chillllll like ayeeeee this is gonna be fun omg I’m so hungry and let’s eat all this food

And so basically it’s a listening session for the new album and we obviously can’t say anything about it or what she said about it besides like probs that it’s AWESOME OUTSTANDING IS GONNA SLAY THE WORLD AND SHES SO LROUD OF IT AND MY BABY DID THAT AND IM REAL PROUD

Okay okay but she like explained each song in-depth and was the cutest cupcake singing along fully jamming to everything and like looking at everyone the entire time and locking eyes as she’s singing ya feel

My flight is about to leave but I will continue later!!!!!

Shaina: This is insane I can’t believe it I’m beyond stoked for you safe travels and talk soon

Okay we not leaving quite yet sooooo I’m missing parts. So we are told we’re gonna go inside and sit down and I book it fast to get a spot on the ground like only two people sitting in front of me and there’s a red plush chair not even 10 feet away that she’ll obviously be sitting in and we’re all like sjedjekkdir

And I was wondering who all I would know there right!?? And was bummed there’s one girl I talk to frequently who loves Shawn Mendes and we know each other cuz she saw my Shawn poster on twitter and she’s from LA but I hadn’t seen her

And then someone pokes me and is like ALIIIIIIII AND ITS HER AND WE FLIP AND SXREAM SO LOUD THE WHOLE ROOM THOUGHT IT WAS TAY AND WAS PISSSSSSED AND SHUSHING US AND SOMEONES LIKE THEY KNOW EACH OTHER!!!!! HAHAHAHA

Shaina: This just keeps getting better and better. How did you keep this a secret?!?!?!?

Shaina: How many people were there

AND SO ANYWAY WE ALL THOUGHT TAYLOR WAS GONNA COME IN FROM THE FRONT AND SIT RIGHT DOWN??? AND ON THE BUS SOMEONE WAS LIKE YOOOOO WHAT IF SINCE TONIGHT IT’S IN LA SHE BRINGS FRIENDS????? AND SO SHE OF COURSE INSTEAD COMES FROM THE BACL AND THE DAMN ROOM EXPLODES AND SHE LOOKS LIKE A DAMN GODWESS AND SHE’S LIKE HIIIIIIIII AND GRINNING AND ALSO COMES IN JACK ANTANOF (SPELLING IDK IM CURRENTLY OFFLINE SO I CANT CHECK), TWO OF THE HAIM GIRLS, AND RUBY ROSE AND THE ROOM IS LIKE SHATTERING

AND SO SINCE SHE IN THE BACK SHE STARTS MAKING HER WAY THROUGHHHHHH US AND IS GRABBING PEOPLE AND PEOPLE ARE STANDING UP AND HUGGING HER AND HOLY CRAP

Okay lololol shoot I just woke up and didn’t realize the rest of this story was notttt in constant caps like I’ve been using all day my bad my bad

And so she’s playing the songs in order off the album and I think it’s okay to say that her and jack are losing their minds because they’ve never gotten to experience our reaction to new stuff they’ve worked on when they’re together, and definitely not together and in person, so she kept being like this is so cool for us you have no idea and he’s in the back confirming lololol

And so anyway she gets to Look What You Made me Do and she’s like soooo how do we want to do this??? Do we want to keep sitting do we want to dance…??? And we’re all like DANCEEEEEE SHDHIEOKRKR and shes like okayyyy we’re dancing and Shaina this is deadass like straight out of a dream.  Actually wait no I couldn’t have imagined this, but she starts and I was anticipating part of this but not the whole thing…

So she obviously doesn’t just have us bopping along and staying and dancing on her own up front… she starts making her way into our basically tiny crowd and we’re so packed together that she’s grabbing people’s hands so she doesn’t fall as she goes. And she’s stopping and dancing with people and stops and stays dancing like staring at one guy and he’s going for it and not afraid and singing the lyrics dramatically right back to her….

And then she makes her way towards and wait for it

GRABS MY DAMN HAND AS SHE’S TRYING TO GET FARTHER INTO THE MIDDLE AND I’M LIKE OKAY OKAY JUST CHILL SHE JUST GRABBED MY HAND NO BIGGIE AND IM LIKE SHES GONNA KEEP WALKING LIKE THAT WAS MY MOMENT RIGBT?!?!

NOOOOOOOOOOO SHE STOPS THERE ONCE SHES BY ME AND IS DANCING WITH THE PEOPLE THAT ARE AROUND HER BUT HER BACK IS TO ME AT THIS POINT BUT IM STILL LIKE HOLY SHIT WHAT IS LIFE AND THEN SHE FREAKING ASS TURNS THE HELL AROUND AND IS DANCING! WITH! ME! LIKE! SHES! LOOKING! AT! ME! AND IM LIKE JAMMING OF COURSE AND SCREAMING THE LYRICS AND I LITERALLT DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN

And then Vanessa (my Shawn buddy) at this point has scooted up to me cuz everyone’s shifted and the people around me are like dude holy shit SHE DANCED WITH YOUUUUU

BYEEEEEEEEEEEE

Okay okay so after the whole album was played she gave us like the lowdown on the meet and greet portion and she passed out the target exclusive magazines for us to see while we waited and talked a bit about the making of them and why and things and she’s really pumped about them and they worked really hard to have them be affordable as possible and cut down the pages and things

And meanwhile like the whole night she’s so close that people would make comments and she’d hear and respond and it was so cute and amazing

Also I don’t think I’ve mentioned her outfit yet???  She’s been looking bomb at all of the other sessions and holy helllll she looked bomb like damnnnnnnnn she had on a black crop top and these high waisted and slightly folded down camouflage pants and these black boots and her hairrrrrrr this era is like natural curls and soooo damn cute

Okay okay so anyway we thought it was a greattttt idea to wait towards the end so we could stay longer and not go first and be done and sent home… yeah well it ended up being a not great idea because we ended up waiting two hours but I’m obviously not complaining one freaking bit

And she’s doing pictures in the other room so we can’t really see much for most of it but every so often we can see people talking to her and taking photos and it’s so cute it’d melt your hearttttttt

And so those of us that have bonded together at this point are like um shoooooot what pose and what the hell do I say to her??????? Like all week to my parents I was like ummmmm soooooo I’ve imagined this happening but like never thought it’d actually happen so unlike some people I had nottttt planned like a monologue of what I’d want her to know if I ever met her???? Like with Vance I was lost too but with my posters it was easier and I’ve seen him recently and yada yada but this is TAYLOR FREAKING SWIFT WHO IVE LOVED WITH MY WHOLE DAMN HEART SINCE I WAS FIFTEEN AND SHIT IM TEARING UP ON THE PLANE WHAT THE HELL DO YOU SAY TO HER WHAT DO YOU WANT HER TO KNOW YOU’VE GOT LIKE TWO MINUTES WITH HER GOOOOO

And so we were all really curious if she’d somehow recognize us because people have been saying that they walk in and she shouted their name! And I’m like idk if that’s gonna happen but might as well see if not just ask if she’s seen anything idk idk???

So okay buckle up for like the greatest time of my entire damn life

So I walk in and hug herrrrrrrrrrrrr

And I wish to god I can remember everything she said but I was focusing so hard on keeping it together and saying my bit that I know for sure what I said and can put together mostly something the general sentiment of what she said if not it exactly. So we’re huggingggg and I say I think hiiiii it’s so nice to finally meet you thank you for having me I’m so excited to be here or something and she’s like awww thank you for coming!! And I’m like I have to know how did we all get picked, was it by you or your team or how did it happen?? And I don’t know what the first part of her answer was but she says so the people from LA have been picked for about a year, and the people from elsewhere (I’m guessing with exceptions) have been picked more recently like within the past few months so like now I know it has nothingggg to do with whatever we’ve been doing online recently…. It’s from at least when she first came back if not before and they realized we were active while she was away….

And so I’m like okay ali say something else so I’m like so I really like making concert posters and the first ones I ever made were for you and shes like aw thank you!! And I’m like I realized other people were making posters and I’d been a RA and I was like hey I can make some really bomb posters tooooo. And so I’m like the fist ones said ‘Taylor someday we’ll meet you even if it’s just in our wildest dreams’ and she grabs me and is like AND NOW WE’RE MAKING IT HAPPEN!!! And so I say after I got the phone call I was in my car listening to Ready For It and started bawling when she sings ‘in my dreams, I know I’m gonna be with you’ cuz I knew it was actually happening and shes like awwwwwww or something you get the idea

And so then I straight up start talking about my dad???

I’m like so my dad loves you and she’s like omg and I’m like no he adoresss youuu and is so sad he couldn’t come and she’s like awww tell him hi!!! And I’m like he loves your Out of the Woods piano Grammy performance and I say how I’d found him listening to it repeatedly and he wanted it on his phone. And she’s like he sounds amazing! And I’m like he is he’s awesome lol and I’m like actually and so him and I went and saw you at F1 last year and of course I’m like and I made signs for there too and so I describe them IN DETAIL like what they said, I realized later I told her I was from Oregon, because I said they were the states and the dotted line and the paper airplane and I think she really liked that??? And as if that all isn’t already insane enough at some point in there I mentioned how this month has been insane and how I’d met Vance Joy and it was my birthday and now this and she said something excitedly about that like ahhh so much excitement or idk something about it. And so she’s like so what pose would you like to do? And I’m like I’ve really been going back and forth between just hugging or doing something sort of funny (low key said that hoping she’d be like girl let’s do both but lololol it’s okay) so she’s like it’s completely up to you!! And I’m like um um okay let’s just hug so she grabs me and we take the freaking photo and ahhhhhhhh

And so Vanessa and I had it planned out and she had me go first and at this point I was like would it be okay if my friend and I got a photo with you together and she’s like of course!! So V comes in and hugs her and we take one photo together and she squeezes us together tight and then I hug her one last time and thank her and say I love you so much (lol I had to throw it in other people forgot it and have been upset) and then I walk out and they hand me my merch bag and are directing me to the bus but I’m like can I wait for my friend and they’re like sure. So she comes out and she’s like SHE KNEW MY NAME SHSJEKOFN and she’s like yelling and I’m like shut up and I grab her and I’m like shhh shhhhh hahahaha and so we walk to the bus and it’s the funniest thing cuz they’re just waiting for it to be full so anytime someone new walks on everyone’s like SPILLLLLLLLL

And then once it was full we went back got our things, exchanged details with people on that bus and took photos and whatnot and turned our phones on to the madness anddddddd so well thats the story of the best damn day of my life

~

Taylor, thank you thank you thank for giving me such incredible memories that I’ve blown up the phones of every person I know, and have talked every person’s ears off that I’ve met during these past 365 days, about how special they are to me.  Thank you for making it happen, thank you for holding my gaze so intently and being so genuine every second I was talking to you, thank you for bringing me some of the best friends I’ve ever had, thank you for being so prominent in the highlights of not only this past year, but this past decade.  I love you forever, babe.  Long, long live October 22, 2017.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

A Simple Favor

If you had told me in 2009 when I was sitting on my couch in my crackerbox pre-furnished grad school apartment avoiding grading papers that I would one day fall head-over-heels in love with the girl who played Serena Van Der Woodsen on Gossip Girl, I would have said, “What do you mean? I like boys!” And then AFTER working through that whole thing, I would have laughed and said “Blake Lively? Okayyyy...girl can put together a good outfit, but she just doesn’t strike me as that special.” Oh, 2009 me. You sweet, soft summer peach. How wrong you were. Which brings me to A Simple Favor. This new film from director Paul Fieg brings Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively together in an escapist thriller that verges on genreless - it’s a mishmash of suburban mommy drama, neo-noir murder mystery, erotic thriller, black comedy, and twisty, turny, lesbionic BFF goals. That’s a lot to manage, and sounds like kind of a mess, right? Well...

If being this kind of mess is wrong, I don’t want to be right. The bare bones version of the story is that Stephanie (Anna Kendrick) is a goody two-shoes mommy vlogger whose life gets blown to smithereens by the sudden introduction of Emily (Blake Lively), a ball-busting gender-bending fashion executive. They quickly become Odd Couple-style BFFs, but then suddenly Emily goes missing...leaving Stephanie to comfort Emily’s hot husband (Henry Golding) and try to piece together what happened to her best friend. As you might imagine, all is not as it seems, and that’s all I’ll tell you so as not to ruin the fun. Because godDAMN this is a fun movie. Its twists and turns start to become a little much - by the end, I felt like I was at my middle school’s sock hop after they’d played Chubby Checker’s “The Twist” for the third time and everyone was just feeling really over it. BUT, the ride along the way is a damn good time, and did I mention Blake Lively in tailored men’s suits while she calls Anna Kendrick baby girl? I think my soul evaporated out of my body just typing that. 

Some thoughts:

If it’s not obvious already, Blake Lively steals the movie. Just takes it and runs away with it. Literally her first appearance onscreen is in slo-mo while she walks through the rain in her Louboutins and a tweed suit with *wheeze* leather driving gloves on. The camera pans in on Anna Kendrick’s face and it’s like she’s a Bond girl watching 007 walk out of the ocean in that teeny tiny blue swimsuit. 20GAYTEEN IS REAL AND I AM HERE FOR IT Y’ALL. 

Anna Kendrick more than holds her own against Blake Lively’s hurricane of a character. Their chemistry is through the roof. When they kissed, I think all of my insides liquefied. At one point, right before the final climax of the film, there’s a point when all other options have been exhausted and Emily says, “Well there is one other option...” and I legit thought they were going to run away together. You guys - I cannot make it clear enough how gay this movie is and how much fun everyone in it is having. 

The thing I love most about Paul Feig as a director is that he lets women have fun. While this normally lends itself to comedies like Bridesmaids, The Heat, and Spy, in this movie it translates to women having a devilishly good time behaving badly. Drinking in the afternoon, wearing men’s clothes, cursing, fighting, fucking, adultering, lying, scheming, murdering - it’s all shown through a sheen of such winning charisma and wicked fun that it’s hard not to root for these antiestablishment anti-heroines.

I will say I’m a little leery of yet another depiction of the Depraved Bisexual because it’s such a worn-out (and offensive) trope. The power of Emily’s character is that she’s so much more than her sexuality, but I think the only reason this doesn’t feel as tired and biphobic as it could is because every person in this movie is a devious motherfucker regardless of sexuality. So at least we’re all on an even playing field.

The detective played by Bashir Salahuddin is so delightful, I want to have him follow me around and just do a running audio commentary on all the people passing me by as I go about my day. Just a gem.

There are times when this definitely feels like you’re watching an adaptation of a novel because some of the plot developments feel very *book of the month club pick.* Case in point - I called the biggest reveal regarding the number 3 a mere 45 minutes into the movie, because it just felt like something I’d read in a soapy female-driven thriller. But honestly, whatever shortcomings the overplotting brings is MORE than made up for by the charismatic performances of these two leading actresses.

This is a fun, frothy, funny thriller that you can’t help but be swept away by. It’s not perfect, but it’s a damn good time, and I highly recommend doing yourself a favor (GET IT) and seeing this as soon as you can.

[popculturespiritwow]

THE WICKED + THE DIVINE #20: I WANT TO BE IN THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENED

“DID I DO THAT?”

I spent way too much time looking for an Urkel/Family Matters pun about Baphomet’s real name. Please give me points for effort.

(Fun Fact: Points for Effort is also the name for my Completely Unauthorized Biography of Baphomet. He really puts in some solid effort here. You gotta love him.)

THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR

Q: Is there a place for a Dionne Warwick reference in the analysis of a comic book about early 21st century pop culture gods who die in two years and spend all their meanwhiles basically doing whatever the hell they want while their spooky, veiled mentor figure quietly steals their heads/murders them?

A: Context is irrelevant. There is always a place for Dionne Warwick reference. You will be assimilated.

Pretty much every friend/loving(-ish) relationship in WicDiv is undermined to some degree by competition (Luci/Ammy), betrayal (Baal/Inanna), just plain fear (Ananke/Woden – we’re using “love” her REALLY loosely); and that sweet sweet cocktail of life, jealousy + shame (Baph/Morry).

(Random aside: I want to pitch a Morrigan spin off entitled “Tuesdays with Morry” in which a visitor descends to meet the Morrigan over the course of weeks and slowly goes crazy and then is torn to pieces. You know, for the kids.)

Even the great relationship between Laura and Luci marinates in a certain amount of Fan-with-Object of Fan, How Do I Get What She’s Having instability.

Cassandra and Laura spend most of the first two arcs as frenemies. (It’s hard to be friends with a person who is always telling you how naïve you are.) But near the end of arc two, we get that moment where Laura shows Cassandra some real kindness and Cassandra actually allows herself to be vulnerable.

Can you hear the Warwick, Clarice? Can you hear her singing?

Of course then Laura ascends/sings/dies/watches her family get murdered/escapes, and it’s all sort of lost in Ananke’s reality-unsettling fire.

But then when Laura comes back and sets her plan in motion, she tells her story not to The Internet’s Best Friend Dionysius or to its Yum Yum I’ll Have that To Go Baal, but Cassandra.

And unlike the typical exposition dump, aka CUT TO:

INT. LOCAL CAFE - NIGHT

CASSANDRA SIPS COFFEE WHILE LAURA SMOKES CLOVES AND TELLS HER WHAT HAPPENED.

(Hear the pretty wheels of a good story coming to a screeching halt)

-- that exposition is absolutely in service of the story. Cassandra absolutely needs to know what happened to Laura before she’ll agree to join them.  

But even with that, we end on this lovely, unexpected beat where Cassandra wonders why Laura would share the Baphomet stuff with her. And Laura’s answer is not as huggy as before.  She’s sort of graduated from that into something quieter and more vulnerable.

I loved Luci and Laura, I love Baphomet and Laura, but the friendship I really ship in WicDiv is these two.

What really makes me angry, though? Laura’s reveal about her and Baph is a Writer’s Convenience. There is no obviously good reason why Laura would have had to tell Cassandra about that. It’s there because the narrative needs the scene to “finish” Laura’s Secret Underground Journey and also to add some twists to what actually happened between them.

Cassandra asking about The Reveal You Need is your classic hang a lantern way of mitigating against the problem. If I name your problem you’ll think it’s all part of the plan, or at least like I see it, too.  

And what’s appalling, I mean deeply offensive, is that Kieron has an answer to the problem that doesn’t stop at satisfying my questions but takes the characters deeper and makes the scene into something so much more.

How dare he be that good.

How. Dare. He.

(I’d love to know which came first, the dilemma of how to justify that information or his sense of their relationship at this point and the opportunity this moment could provide if he stayed in it just one more beat. But either way, it is an really delicate bit of work. And I am filled with envy.)  

RIGHT?

My favorite beat of the flashbackery has got to be this moment of seeing Baphomet and Inanna react to what is about to happen to Laura. It’s like getting to see the horror in my soul from a safe distance.

PERSEPHONE IS IN HELL

I’m always interested in the precise blessing that each god bestows. We got a glimpse of Persephone’s magic in issue 18, the dark vines ever deepening around her listeners while the words “Persephone is in Hell” resound. And it’s clear it’s a shattering experience for each of them.

But the specifics of that experience are unclear. What does Persephone get them in touch with? What does she give them?

After issue 20, it’s still not totally clear, but I sort of wonder if Laura’s gift is actually allowing others to experience her own horribly sad story. Maybe going to a Persephone concert is like watching Schindler’s List, or Born on the Fourth of July or Twelve Years a Slave. Basically you’ve just signed up for horror and grief. And yet you come anyway, because the opportunity to face the monstrous truths of our reality is cathartic. 

Seriously, if it weren’t for Peak TV keeping me distracted (just started Counterpart, wow is it good) I would be on a non-stop diet of World’s Saddest Movies. As it is I’m repeat watching Infinity War basically just for the last five minutes (and really for the very last minute’s “I don’t want to go”, which somehow only gets more upsetting to watch after you know it’s coming).

The thing I like about this idea of the blessing of Persephone being her story is that it’s a little bit different than the other gods. Their blessings certainly come out of their own lives and experiences, but the gift itself is more of the quality of an experience.  You walk away from an Inanna residency or an Amaterasu performance with a certain feeling, maybe a take on life (and in the case of an Inanna residency probably some unwanted new hitchhikers, please get tested, everybody.)

Persephone’s gift, if I understand it correct, is not about you but her. You walk away from her show with an experience of what happened to her and where that has left her.  Persephone is in Hell.

I haven’t thought very much about the meaning or Easter eggs to be found in the specifics of the different gods of the Pantheon – at least not until they hit me upside the petunia, like the reveal of the Woden’s true identity or the ongoing discussion about the appropriateness of Hazel’s take on Amaterasu.

But the more I sit with Laura’s journey, the more I think about the fact that she was transformed not into one of the classic A-List Greek gods but a relatively minor one who became a bridge between them and the rest of us via abduction, forced marriage and missing her mom (Greek myths are so messed up, I’m rereading The Iliad right now, it’s basically just a million lines of women being treated and talked about like garbage).

Laura has always been our stand-in, our bridge to this world. Maybe her blessing reflects that. It’s not some divine gift from on high, but the sharing of one really cursed human being with others.

(Am I trying too hard here? I may be trying too hard here.)

HEY, RORSCHACH

“I triggered it thirty-five minutes ago” Watchmen nods seriously never get old.

 IT’S ALL GOING TO BE OKAYYYY?

So we’re halfway through Super Hero Fight Wow, about to go into the Big Punch Finish. And  I love that Gillen and McKelvie have married the genre to the idea of teen individuation. Our kids are going to literally kill their mom, and in doing so achieve lives “of their own”.

It’s a coming of age story, basically.  It’s the end of the first act of Into the Woods. Problem solved. Happily ever after.

(Yeah, there’s still a giant left and a Great Darkness out there, but if we can take care of the Witch who Stole Our Baby we can take care of that. IMPERIAL PHASE, BABY.)

So of course Kieron ends instead like this.  

Just shut up, we’ve got it handled, it’ll be fine.

[iraacundus]

Project Partners - Taeyong

I know this isn’t superrrr great but I tried hard. I hope you like it, have a great day - Em x

Requests: Can you do a scenario teacher put you in a group with Taeyong who you have never talked before. You think he is a typical badboy but after being partners you see him in a new light? Thank you :)

 Genre: Fluff

 Word Count: 1836

“Everyone stand at the back instead of taking a seat. Today I’m setting a project and after last time there is no way you get to pick your own partners.” Your teacher said. Everyone groaned but you knew it was true. Half of last terms projects were laughable. You were still a bit disgruntled though, one of your best friends was in this class and you could have had so much fun together. You just hoped you got partnered with someone vaguely decent.

Your teacher began to list names of your classmates. She had managed to partner everyone with someone they barely knew.

“y/b/f and Yuta,” The teacher said handing them a project pack. “y/n and Taeyong,” she called out next. If you had been cheekier you would have protested at this. Taeyong was just some badboy in your year who chased after a different girl each week and didn’t bother with anything. That’s what everyone said.

Your friend shot you a sympathetic look before turning around and grinning at Yuta. She had had a crush on him for ages, he was nice and cute so she was lucky to have him for a partner.

You sat down at a desk next to Taeyong and gave him a quick, fake smile. The teacher walked up to the board and wrote the deadline, a week from now, in big letters.

“We have done many projects in the past but I thought we would do something a bit more interesting for you this time,” she announced. “In your pair, each of you will have to present about the other person and something you have learned from each other this week. This is another reason you can’t go with your friends. You may have the rest of the lesson to discuss with your partner.”

Your teacher pulled out her laptop and put headphones in. Your social science class wasn’t always the most educational fo your classes.

You turned to Taeyong.

“Um... hey so I’m y/n,” You said to him smiling as best you could. Taeyong raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“You’re a pretty girl,” He said to you with a wink. “I’m lucky in that regard,” You internally groaned. Was it humanly possible to work with him? This was one of the many questions you had. But you ignored him.

“What days are you free?” You asked him politely. But he didn’t reply he had gotten out his phone and was texting someone. You didn’t mind faking happiness but he could at least pay attention.

“Hey, Taeyong!” You said tapping him on the shoulder. He looked up at you, seemingly amused that you were still trying to work.

“I asked you what days you were free to work, that is if you’re not too busy beating people up or chasing after poor girls or whatever you do in your free time. I don’t really feel like doing the whole project myself but I mean with you has a partner what should have I expected.”

He looked surprised by your small outburst, it wasn't immediately obvious but you could have sworn a flash of hurt ran across his face before his smirk regained its usual place. He was about to speak but the bell rang.

“Look you can do whatever, but if you want to help meet me in the library tomorrow after school,” you told him getting up. “But don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to show.”

The next day after the last bell rang you walked down to the library with your best friend.

“Yuta is so kind and he is really good at this project, I’m having so much fun,” she gushed her cheeks blushing red when she saw Yuta waiting for her in the library. Your eyes scanned the room but there was absolutely no sign of Taeyong. 

If he was gonna show there was no way he would be early. But then you felt a tap on your own shoulder. You looked around to see Taeyong grinning at you as he sat down.

“I’m here to work y/n,” he said saluting you. He was funny, you would give him that.

“Great,” you replied, smiling earnestly this time. “So then tell me about yourself, Taeyong Lee,”

“There isn’t much to say really, I’m seventeen and I like to have a good time,” He grinned, you did the opposite and frowned.

“Taeyong seriously?” you questioned. “My part of the report can’t be ‘yeah this is Taeyong and he likes to party,’ we would get an F, you idiot,”

Taeyong shrugged.

“Not everyone is what you want them to be. I’m an out of control badboy who gets into fights, drinks, smokes and chases after helpless girls. That’s what people say right.” He told you looking down at his desk.

You looked at him sceptically. You had a feeling that this wasn’t a whole truth. Just by showing up he had shown he was different to what people said. But that didn’t really say much. It wasn’t proof of character enough.

“Fine,” you said relenting. “I will tell you first. I’m y/n and one day I hope to achieve something that shows I can be great. I want to do well and make and impression on people,”

He interrupted you, “Babe you made an impression on me with just one glance,” You cracked a small smile.

“How do you get girls with such terrible lines, gosh Taeyong, is your secret you’re a wizard?” You asked him.

“Oh, yes y/n you see I’m the Asian harry potter,” he flicked his pencil forward at you as if casting a spell. “Makeus this girlus fallus in loveus with meus!” he shouted. The whole library turned around at his sudden cry. The librarian cast you both a look that would kill.

It was all so funny, Taeyong being so childish and the shocked looks of others you couldn’t help but laugh loudly.

“Already you're proving everyone wrong about the badboy. You are such an idiot Taeyong. Wait…,” you stopped. “Is the humour how you reel the girls in?” you asked curiously. Because if it was it was working.

“Nope. That would ruin my image. The humour is just for you baby girl,” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The other girls can’t avoid being taken in by my beautiful face because my face is beautiful. But not as beautiful as yours.” Taeyong said with his classic smirk back.

“Why are you trying to reel me in then, if the other girls like you more easily?” You questioned.

Taeyong blushed slightly pink. You thought your eyes were playing tricks.

“Because those girls only want one thing from me, and me from them. But that’s not what I want from you. Well, not all I want anyway. I won't tell a lie. You intrigue me y/n, which is why I think you should go on a date with me.” He said. He sounded confident but you could just about tell the nervousness in his voice.

“Tell you what Taeyong, if we get an A on the project we can go on a date, but that means you have to tell me about the actual Taeyong. You are more than a badboy I can see it,” You answered.

“Fair deal,” he agreed. “Well then… I’m Taeyong and I don’t enjoy getting into fights, I just can’t help it. I have a slightly short temper. I feel pressured to hold up a reputation I don’t even like and I don’t know why. I sleep with lots of girls because the one I always liked from afar can’t see through my façade and I never have the guts to talk to her which in turn makes me angrier and I beat up more people. I want to be a good person, I don’t even like drinking that much. In fact, my favourite thing to do is to sing.” He dropped his face into his hands.

“Ah I can’t do this y/n, I seem so dumb,”

“Nah that was the best thing that you have ever said,” you said happily.

“Can I hear you sing?” you asked later as you were walking home with him.

“Absolutely not. No way. Never gonna happen.” He said walking faster to get away from you.

You ran to catch up and grabbed his arm lightly, just enough to stop him.

“Please,” You asked grinning, “I will do anything if you sing. Just two lines that’s it. Please Taeyong?” you asked. Both of you had just spent two hours writing up one of the bets social science reports of all time.

“Anything?” he asked eyes widening. You nodded.

“Yeah pretty much.”

“Okayyyy fine.” He said and stopped walking. “This is so awkward, here goes nothing…

It’s too much, your red lips

Un Bel Viso, all of you

Makes me imagine an image of an angel

Only mine, you got to be mine”

 His voice was so beautiful. He turned around shy.

“Omg Tae that was so great, if I could sing like you I would never stop singing!” you praised him.

He smiled brightly.

“Glad you liked it baby girl. But now you have to do that one thing for me.” He said. You nodded wondering what he would say.

“y/n,” he said seriously. “I want you to kiss me,” and he didn’t have to tell you twice. You took a step towards him. He eyes flickered briefly between your eyes and lips but almost as quickly they pressed together. Your lips caressing each other softly but passionately. It lit a fire inside you.

He pulled away after a few seconds and leant his forehead against yours.

“I really hoped I proved I was different. Because I realised it doesn’t matter if other don’t know who I am. But it does matter that you do.”

“Don’t worry, I think I have a clear idea. And I like this new Taeyong a lot.”

He was beyond sweet from that point on. That weekend you went on an ice cream date and fed ducks at the park. He was the opposite of your preconceptions.

So, the next week in class when it was your turn you felt confident. Taeyong started off with a nice little talk about how people were sweet and we needed to take chances to get to know them like he did with you.

“To conclude, before this I thought I knew who Taeyong was. But people aren’t always the way they present themselves or the way people say. Sometimes it's just easier to act a certain way. Taeyong is one of the best people I have ever met and I only know that because he had to prove it to me. We should try and see beyond people’s outward attitudes.”

Taeyong gave you a hug and a warm smile.

“Lovely.” The teacher said calling up the next pair. In the end, she gave everyone an A but you knew it wasn’t a waste of time as you walked into lunch to sit next to your boyfriend Taeyong.

[bad-draft-stuff]

Fate Goes (to the market)

bbbbb

Arsé-kun: *A NEW DAY A NEW START I HOPE SENPAI THE WIZARD DIDN'T FUCK SHIT UP* Sheepy: Satoru: *he comes downstairs* Good morning, everyone- Arsé-kun: Vlad: Good morning, Satoru. I hope you didn't need this garlic bread. Sheepy: Satoru: But... aren't you allergic? Arsé-kun: Vlad: I was, until I stopped being a vampire for some reason? Sheepy: Satoru:.....? Sheepy: Satoru: That's odd... Arsé-kun: Vlad: No, odd is that I'm suddenly a Lancer, as is Carmilla. Sheepy: Satoru: Is Carmilla no longer a vampire too? Arsé-kun: Vlad: ... I.... Don't know. Get something to eat, then head outside. That's where the others went. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Thank you! Sheepy: *Satoru eats and then goes out.* Sheepy: Satoru:...... Arsé-kun: Mori: Ah, good morning, Satoru. Welcome to... Whatever happened. Sheepy: Satoru: Um... Sheepy: Satoru: Wh...what is Cu Chu... wearing? Arsé-kun: Mori: Caster robes. Sheepy: Satoru: He's wearing a see through top... Arsé-kun: Mori: That isn't the worst of it. Either way, all of our classes- Bar Hessian Lobo- seem to have been shuffled. Sheepy: Satoru: What is everyone now? Arsé-kun: *Mori covers what he Knows* Sheepy: Kintaro: A very very golden good morning to you, Chief! Arsé-kun: Mozart: Volume, Kintoki! Sheepy: Kintaro:...Sorry, Ruffles. Arsé-kun: Mozart: It is all right. *he resumes attempting to aim an arrow. he misses, but it makes a cool musical twang noise* Sheepy: Cu: Oi, Master! Hanging out is nice, but shouldn't we get busy? Let's go fishing! Sheepy: Cu: Right now, you're just a baby, but if you try hard, you'll grow into a respectable man. Arsé-kun: Proto: Fishing? Sheepy: Cu: Fishing requires patience and- What in the...?! Proto! What happened to you?!? Sheepy: Cu: You have a centipede thing coming out of your back! Arsé-kun: Proto: I want to know that, too! *he wags his tail..? tail?* It's kinda cool though! Sheepy: Cu: Did you switch classes too..? Arsé-kun: Proto: Apparently. I don't know what to. Sheepy: Cu: I want to go to town and see pretty women. And fish! Master, let me teach you how to fish! Sheepy: Satoru: *he hides behind Mori. Nevermind.* Sheepy: Cu:...Alright, you come, Proto! Arsé-kun: Proto: Excellent! *his tail is really wagging now* Sheepy: Lobo: *he sniffs Proto* Sheepy: Cu: Let's go, then! Sheepy: Lobo: Boof? Arsé-kun: *An arrow soars past Proto, snagging itself in the fur on Cu's hood* Sheepy: Cu: *AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA* Arsé-kun: Herc: I wouldn't leave if I were you. *he's. fully dressed for once? Summer outfit. FULL SENTENCES* Sheepy: Cu: You trying to kill me gives me all the more reason to leave! Sheepy: Lobo: *growl* Arsé-kun: Herc: It was aimed for your hood as to not inflict harm. Leaving may mean that you will not receive the counterspell. Sheepy: Cu:...*he hesitantly takes ths arrow out of his hood* Sheepy: Lobo: *he is still growling but not as much. that was his friend...* Arsé-kun: Proto: *he lowers his voice a bit* It's so weird hearing him use full sentences. Sheepy: Cu: It's weird seeing him with clothes. Arsé-kun: Proto: I had no idea he could use a bow. Sheepy: Cu: I don't think he can. I think it was just a cover-up for a murder attempt. Sheepy: Lobo: *he continues to growl. is he scary yet? his tail is wagging.* Arsé-kun: *there's a howl from the other house, followed by a wolf... thing busting out of the doorway. Jekyll is clinging onto it's back for his life. help him* sheep: Lobo: *he sniffs the wolf thing* Sheepy: *Lobo has already decided that he's the alpha, apparently, because his tail is sticking up like a flag. He's standing with an air of confidence* Sheepy: Guin: Ah, does this mean Lance has changed classes...? I need to go find him... Arsé-kun: *the wolf lies down next to a bunch of the girls. Jekyll looks shaken but unharmed* Arsé-kun: Hyde: Do any of you lovely ladies want to have se-- Arsé-kun: Jekyll: HYDE! Be quiet! Sheepy: Guin: Nevermind, I already hate him. Arsé-kun: Jekyll: I am so, so sorry for his behavior. sheep: Rider: "As long as he isn't a bad influence on Lobo and doesn't mess with anyone I know, I don't care." Arsé-kun: Jekyll: He most likely will. sheep: Rider: "Does he wish to keep his head?" Arsé-kun: Hyde: Don't touch me, headless. I'll kick your ass. sheep: Rider: "Don't touch anyone from our household or make sexual comments towards them if you want to keep your head." Arsé-kun: Hyde: Fine, I'll wait. sheep: Rider: "Wait? For when?" Arsé-kun: Hyde: Wait to stop being this ratty canine so I can go to a bar and pick up some dudes n' chicks. sheep: Rider: "Good." sheep: Lobo: *he sniffs at Hyde again* sheep: Rider: *he claps his hands* "No, Lobo, don't associate with him. You have standards, don't you?" Arsé-kun: Hyde: What do you want, stinko? You wanna go to the park and sniff some bitches? sheep: Lobo: *he looks excited!* sheep: Lobo: *boof* sheep: Rider: *he claps his hands again, but this time louder* "No, Lobo!" sheep: Guin: Jekyll, where is Lance right now? Arsé-kun: Jekyll: Lancelot? Inside, I believe. Do check on him- I haven't seen him all day. sheep: Guin: *she goes in* Arsé-kun: *She immediately sees Andersen lying on the floor. This is normal and Andersen-like, except he's an adult, and he looks downright miserable. More than usual* sheep: Gil: Big brother! Are you sick? sheep: *Gil, meanwhile, is the opposite: hes a kid.* Arsé-kun: Andersen: I may as well be. Tell me not to take more medication. sheep: Gil: Don't take more medication! It can hurt you in large quantities. Arsé-kun: Andersen: Thank you. sheep: Gil: That's what Goldie read. Thankfully while Goldie isn't here, I still know a lot that he knew! sheep: Guin: ...Um, excuse me, have you seen Lance? Arsé-kun: Andersen: Yes. sheep: Guin: Do you know where he is right now? Arsé-kun: Andersen: Upstairs. Please pardon my appearance. sheep: Guin: No, no, we changed classes too. sheep: Guin: Don't worry about it. Arsé-kun: Andersen: Is that it? I should have noticed.. sheep: Guin: Do you mind if I go visit him? Arsé-kun: Andersen: Go ahead. sheep: *Guin goes upstairs to find Lancelot* Arsé-kun: *No sight of him at first, but the bathroom light is on and the door is open* sheep: Guin: *she hesitantly peeks in* Arsé-kun: Lance: *he's... facing away from the door, trying to cut his own hair. He's mumbling as he does, but it's intelligible* ... No, no, this isn't right... sheep: Guin: Lance? Do you need help? Arsé-kun: Lance: *he jumps like an entire foot into the air, dropping the scissors and knocking things over turning to look at her* I-I wasn't ready yet! sheep: Guin: Oh. Sorry. sheep: Guin: I'll come back later if you want. Arsé-kun: Lance: Uh... Um, no, it's okay! sheep: Guin: Okay, do you need help? You sounded like you were struggling with something... Arsé-kun: Lance: Please. *he bends down and retrieves the scissors* Sheepy: *Guin comes over to help.* Arsé-kun: *Significant improvements are made. To his hair.* Sheepy: *Thank goodness.* Sheepy: Guin: Your hair is much neater now! Arsé-kun: Lancelot: I feel a lot better! Say, do you think Merlin did something? Sheepy: Guin: I don't know. He might've... Sheepy: Guin: ...That'd explain everyone's, uh, situation. Arsé-kun: Lancelot: Uh? Did he make a mistake? Sheepy: Guin: Everyone's classes have been swapped. Sheepy: Guin: Instead of being a Saber, I'm a Rider now, for example. Arsé-kun: Lancelot: ... .... I would be inclined to believe I took Saber from you, then. Sheepy: Guin: I wouldn't be surprised. Sheepy: Guin: I prefer you taking Saber from me than anyone else, at least. Arsé-kun: Lance: Fair. Let me clean up, and then we can talk! Sheepy: Guin: Okay! Arsé-kun: *He does so, and then starts talking. At least half of it is apologies, a quarter is being a hopeless romantic, and the last quarter is miscellaneous. They head back out, meanwhile* Arsé-kun: Lance: -- But what I mean to say is that I apologize for my behavior Sheepy: Guin: You don't need to apologize. I understand. Arsé-kun: Eliza: *chanting from the roof* O T P, O T P, BEST SHIP Sheepy: Guin: ?! Arsé-kun: Lance: ?!? Sheepy: Guin: Why are you on the roof?! Arsé-kun: Eliza: Nobody stopped me from climbing up! Hey, do you think I could sing well from up here? Sheepy: Guin: ..I guess? Sheepy: Guin: I don't see why altitude would affect your singing, unless you're on a mountain. Arsé-kun: Eliza: Well, okayyyy! Arsé-kun: Eliza: Lemme just warm up, first! Arsé-kun: *both Jekyll and Hyde immediately cover their ears. Mozart notices and follows suit* sheep: Guin: ...? Arsé-kun: *Eliza just takes a moment to scream. Honestly? relatable* sheep: Guin: *she covers her ears* sheep: Lobo: *he starts growling and barking loudly. he doesn't like it.* sheep: Rider: ......... sheep: Cu: SHUUUT UUUPPP!! Arsé-kun: Eliza: YOUUUU SHUUUUTT UUUUUUPP Sheepy: Cu: YOU SOUND LIKE A DYING CAT! Arsé-kun: Eliza: And you look like a biiiiitch~♫ Sheepy: Cu: That's not singing, lady! That's just screaming at the top of your lungs! Arsé-kun: Eliza: I didn't say it was! It was a warm-up, now shut up! Sheepy: Cu: If you sound annoying when you sing, I can't guarantee I won't set up ablaze! You already make me really mad and all you've done is your "warm up"! Arsé-kun: *And Elizabeth kicks into singing God of Marie. Elizabeth.... She's probably doing this because few people will even know what it is. Either way, Eliza, no.* Sheepy: Cu: *he is quickly getting impatient* Arsé-kun: Mozart: .... If not for the actual lyrics, not so bad. Grating, but not awful. Sheepy: Cu:..... *he looks irritated* Sheepy: Kintaro: ? Arsé-kun: Proto: *he also looks irritated* ....... Sheepy: Cu: *and he, unsurprisingly, loses his temper* Shuuuuuuut uuuuuup, lady! Sheepy: Cu: You said you'd sing! You're still bleating like some stupid goat! Get down from your stage for your imaginary concert before I ram this staff so far through my heart that not even battle continuation can save me! Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she DOES shut up. ... followed by falling to her knees and crying* Sheepy: Cu: Rather than crying, actually try learning from a music teacher instead of listening to "music"! Sheepy: Cu: Music tells stories of intense battles and of the tears of maidens! Not drugs! Sheepy: Satoru: But Uncle Mozzy's songs don't discuss either. Sheepy: Cu: Mozart does what Mozart pleases. Arsé-kun: Mozart: They do sometimes. Sheepy: Satoru: Really? Sheepy: Satoru: I don't understand music. Sheepy: Satoru: She didn't sound bad, but I was tuning her out. Arsé-kun: Andersen: *he stumbles outside, groaning loudly* Whatever that was, it better not start again! Sheepy: Gil: Miss! You're upsetting big brother!! He's hurting! Be nice to him! Arsé-kun: Proto: *he was angry, now he's.. Still angry, but also super confused* What did you just say? Sheepy: Gil: I said, "Miss, you're upsetting big brother! He's hurting so be nice to him!" Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she peers off the roof. She DOES lower her voice* Oh my gosh, you're adorable. Sheepy: Gil: Huh? Arsé-kun: Herc: ..... *even he has to suppress a laugh* You're finally joining us, Gilgamesh? Sheepy: Gil: Big uncle Herc! You're here too! Sheepy: Gil: "Gilgamesh" sounds really formal. Call me "Gil"! I'm not like Goldie! Arsé-kun: *In the far background, Minako excuses herself so she can have a fit of giggles* Sheepy: Gil: I don't want to become Goldie! I hate him! Arsé-kun: Hyde: Then why don't you spam his phone with pictures of yourself? And send them to everyone else, so he can't play "LOL THIS DIDN'T HAPPEN" bingo. Sheepy: Gil: ? Arsé-kun: Andersen: Check your pockets. *he sit down on the grass* Sheepy: *Gil takes out a phone* Arsé-kun: Andersen: Camera. Go nuts. Sheepy: Gil: Big brother! Take a picture with me! Here, here, I'll get you in the shot! Arsé-kun: Andersen: ... I look awful. *he adjusts his glasses* Look, you can even see burns on my face. Arsé-kun: Andersen: ... *he sighs and forces a small smile for the camera* Sheepy: *Gil takes a picture with Andersen!* Arsé-kun: Andersen: *he proceeds to flop down onto the grass* Sheepy: Gil: Are you okay? Arsé-kun: Andersen: Nope. Sheepy: Gil: Do you need anything? Arsé-kun: Andersen: A barrel to be smashed over my head, killing me instantly. Sheepy: Gil: I don't think I have anything like that. Arsé-kun: Andersen: Hey, do you think big uncle Herc wants to take a picture, too? Sheepy: Gil: Probably! Sheepy: Gil: Take a picture with me! Arsé-kun: Herc: I don't suppose I have a reason not to. Sheepy: *Gil takes a picture with Herc!* Arsé-kun: Eliza: Me too! Me too! Arsé-kun: *And now, a short list of background events that May or May Not be happening: Proto is trying to take a branch from Lobo, with his mouth. He's hanging off off this branch. Progress is Low. Lance and Guin are being hopeless romantics. Mozart thinks it's adorable, as does Elizabeth. Emiya can't see. Carmilla is a fucking catgirl.* Arsé-kun: *Also Merlin is alternating between fixing his staff and napping. On occasion, he also tries to piece together a broken perthro rune* Arsé-kun: *I'm gonna keep doing this until you inevitably Do Something. Moriarty is standing with Satoru. Vlad still hasn't finished the garlic bread, and he isn't sharing under any circumstances. Cu is dying inside. Robin wants to leave. Medusa can't hold this bow and this book at the same time and keeps dropping both. Jekyll takes a nap on Hyde's back. Hyde wants to shake him off. Emiya still can't see* Sheepy: Satoru: You know, there's still a few people missing. Sheepy: Satoru: Mephisto, Merlin, and Minako. Arsé-kun: Minako: Hey! I'm right here! Sheepy: Satoru: Then, if it's not you, who am I forgetting? Arsé-kun: Minako: Not Merlin either! He's over there. Sheepy: Satoru:.... Arsé-kun: Minako: Mephisto is... ... Y'know, I don't know where he went. Sheepy: Satoru: Maybe he left because he was sad. Sheepy: Emiya: *he has his arms outstretched and is waving them around as he walks. he's going to get where he wants to go eventually.* Arsé-kun: Minako: ... No idea. Emmy, do you need help? Sheepy: Satoru: That guy is covered up completely! Maybe he's Mephisto! Sheepy: Emiya: I'm baking. Arsé-kun: Minako: No horns, no tails. *she goes and tries to pull the bandages off his head. or whatever those are* Sheepy: Emiya: Thank you. Arsé-kun: Minako: Why didn't you just take it off? Sheepy: Emiya: I couldn't see what I was doing. Arsé-kun: Minako: Too stubborn to ask for help? Sheepy: Emiya: It's easy to poke an eye out that wa- Sheepy: Cu: Oi, Archer! Let's fight with our new classes! Arsé-kun: Minako: Oh, right, you guys were gonna do that! Kick his butt, Emmy. Sheepy: Emiya: I don't know where my weapons are. Sheepy: Emiya: Do I even have weapons? Sheepy: Emiya: Anyway, no. Arsé-kun: Minako: No? Sheepy: Emiya: It'd be stupid to waste my energy when there's clearly more important things to deal with. Arsé-kun: Minako: After, then? Sheepy: Emiya: Lancer has a luck stat of D anyway, so chances are his spells will explode in his face, anyway, killing him instantly and wasting my time. Sheepy: Cu: Excuse me! I'm no idiot! Arsé-kun: Minako: Harsh! All right, but give me advice. I'm gonna go check on Mephisto, but, who should I bring with me? Do you wanna come, or? Sheepy: Emiya: I'll come. Sheepy: Emiya: I believe he is in the attic as always. Sheepy: Cu: Don't run away like some baby! Sheepy: Emiya: Babies can't run! Sheepy: Emiya: They crawl! Sheepy: Kintaro: Let's give Moose a visit! Arsé-kun: Minako: Oh, are you coming, too? Sheepy: Kintaro: Yes! Arsé-kun: Minako: Okay! We're all set, let me just.. *she looks to Cu* Could you get Proto down from there before he breaks something? Sheepy: Cu: Proto! Get down! Arsé-kun: Proto: *he goes to talk. first mistake. he lands on his ass* Arsé-kun: Minako: Quick, Emmy, get inside. Sheepy: *Emiya goes inside and up to the attic* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he's lying on the couch, shaking and shuddering* Sheepy: Emiya: Mephisto! *he rushes over to his side* What's wrong? Sheepy: *the music box is playing...* Arsé-kun: *Mephistopleles does not respond. In fact, he doesn't seem at all aware that Emiya is present. Upon closer inspection, "shaking" and "shuddering" are not proper terms. The most accurate terms would be "twitching" and "convulsing".* Sheepy: Emiya: Something is wrong! Arsé-kun: Minako: What do you mean something's wrong? *she climbs up the ladder* What's up? Sheepy: Emiya: He's shaking. Sheepy: Kintaro: What happened to Moose? Sheepy: Teddy: ...he started trembling all of a sudden. is he going to be okay? Arsé-kun: Minako: ! ! Sheepy: Teddy: it's not helping... Arsé-kun: Minako: *she moves a bit closer* Did.. Did this only happen now? Sheepy: Teddy: uhuh! Arsé-kun: Minako: .... I guess it's better than happening repeatedly. *she bends down and unties Mephisto's bow. she's on a mission* Sheepy: Teddy: if mama was here she could help mister pheles. I need to find her... Arsé-kun: Minako: Huh.. *she glances towards Emiya* Is that whatever was going on with paperwork? Sheepy: Emiya: Yes. Arsé-kun: Minako: Neato. We'll get back to that after all this. *she starts sifting through Mephisto's hair, like she's looking for something underneath...* Sheepy: Kintaro: Moose! You've gotta snap out of it! Sheepy: Emiya: What are you doing? Arsé-kun: Minako: Looking for something. Doubt he's shown you guys, so maybe I shouldn't... .. Aw, fuck it. *she just moves his hair away from his neck to show some sort of markings on it. If inanimate markings and circles could be unhappy, they fucking are* Sheepy: Emiya:....? Sheepy: Kintaro: It's like...ehh, pictionary on his neck! Sheepy: Kintaro: Except without the guessing! Arsé-kun: Minako: May as well have guessing. I know nothing about alchemy except stuff from anime. Sheepy: Emiya: I know very little about alchemy myself. Move. Arsé-kun: Minako: ...? *she moves to the side* What are you gonna do? Sheepy: Emiya: Trace, on! *he touches Mephisto's neck* ... ... ... Arsé-kun: Minako: Eh??? I thought you said that didn't work on people.. Sheepy: Emiya: It doesn't... Arsé-kun: Minako: ... Sheepy: Emiya: *he is doing his best to focus on it.* Arsé-kun: Minako: *she wisely shuts up* Arsé-kun: Minako: ... ....... *she's considering this with a grain of fear* ... And I thought the first time was bad. Hold on. *she goes to the window and opens it* Yo, Merlin the wizard! Hurry your ass up, it's starting to cause problems! *she now returns* Nailed it. Sheepy: Emiya: First time? Arsé-kun: Minako: Later! Sheepy: Emiya: Fine. Arsé-kun: *the shaking finally stops. He did not Die.* Sheepy: Kintaro: Moose? Sheepy: Kintaro: Is Moose dead? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: .... ngnnnh? *he finally comes to, blinking in confusion and looking in Kintaro's direction* Taro..? What're you doing here...? *he sounds exhausted* Sheepy: Kintaro: I was very, very concerned! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: About what...? This clown looking thing we call me..? Sheepy: Kintaro: You were shaking violently! Sheepy: Kintaro: Like I do when I see a boob! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: .... Heh? Run that by me again..? Sheepy: Kintaro: You were trembling like you saw something that terrified you! Like a boob! Arsé-kun: Minako: Now make it possibly lethal. Sheepy: Kintaro: Breasts can kill you! Arsé-kun: Minako: ... At least Lizzie's can't. Sheepy: Emiya: Are you feeling alright, Mephisto? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: ..... Nnnnnot really.. Sheepy: Emiya: Everyone changed classes. Your body appears to be rejecting it. Sheepy: Emiya: For example, I am an Assassin, and Kintaro is... Kintaro is...? Sheepy: Kintaro: My intended class, a Berserker! Sheepy: Kintaro: A very very golden greeting to you, Moose, in my true form! Cool! Powerful! Shocking! Because I use electricity! Sheepy: Teddy: mister pheles is back!! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: ... So you're Currently making Re-Volt-ing puns? ... Oh, hey, Teddy.. Sheepy: Kintaro: I should write those down! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: .... I'll help when I feel better. Who'd know better about bad jokes than a clown? Sheepy: Kintaro: Meese? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: oH NO *he starts laughing* Sheepy: Kintaro: ? Sheepy: Kintaro: You're a moose and you know a lot about jokes. Sheepy: Emiya: A group of moose is moose. Arsé-kun: Minako: I can't believe he's a moose, Emmy. Sheepy: Kintaro: No, no! Sheepy: Kintaro: The plural of goose is geese! Sheepy: Kintaro: The plural of moose must be meese! It's the golden rule! Arsé-kun: *Mephisto keeps laughing at "meese". Why? No idea. It's just That Funny.* Sheepy: Kintaro: Similarly, the singular of beef is a "boof"! Sheepy: Emiya: Incorrect. The plural of beef is beeves. Arsé-kun: Minako: I thought it was just beefs! Sheepy: Emiya: No. Sheepy: Kintaro: Beef is a plural! Sheepy: Kintaro: The singular is a boof! That's why Lobo says it so much! Sheepy: Kintaro: Right, Moose? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he wipes away a single tear. he was laughing that hard* Apparently so, if it's the Golden Rule. Sheepy: Kintaro: You see? Moose knows the Golden Rule! Sheepy: Emiya: When Merlin can he'll fix this mess. Until then, just relax. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: hnn. *he shifts himself* When'll that be? Arsé-kun: Minako: I don't know, and I don't like it! *she frowns* It's bad enough that happened. I thought the first time around was bad, but... Arsé-kun: Mephisto: ... We're really gonna talk about that? *he sighs* That one was worse. Took longer to fix. Was a lot more lonely. No puns. Ehe. Arsé-kun: *Minako doesn't seem amused* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Okay! Sorry. Sheepy: Kintaro:? Sheepy: Emiya: First time? Sheepy: Emiya: I assume I wasn't present for it. Sheepy: Kintaro: There's always a first time for anything! That is the second golden rule! Arsé-kun: Minako: It was a whiiiiile back, Emmy. None of you guys were there yet, except Mephisto. sheep: Emiya: I see. sheep: Kintaro: Ah, ah! I've got it! Arsé-kun: Minako: Oh? sheep: Kintaro: I know what can make you feel better! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: ... What? sheep: *Kintaro leaves and returns with golden delicious apples!* sheep: Kintaro: Here, here! Golden delicious apples! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: ... Didn't you say it was your favorite..? sheep: Kintaro: Yes! sheep: Kintaro: That's why it'll make you feel better. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: ... Thanks, Taro. sheep: Kintaro: No problem! Sheepy: *Meanwhile, Bedi finally arrives.* Arsé-kun: *Bedi is not stopped by the security wolves. One is being a lazy sack of shit. The other is Lobo* Sheepy: Bedi: There you are, Merlin...! *he pauses and looks over at Lancelot, visibly surprised. he has emotions past :) ????* Arsé-kun: Lance: Good afternoon, Bedivere! Sheepy: Bedi: Sir Lancelot! You look much better than you did yesterday! ...You're speaking clearly, too. Were you just not feeling well yesterday...? Arsé-kun: Lance: Not at all, unfortunately. Merlin decided to try something. While it worked, it's ruined everyone else's classes. Sheepy: Bedi: ...I see. Arsé-kun: Merlin: Don't blame me, you plum! My staff broke right in half! There was also an unexpected reaction to the runes.. Sheepy: Bedi: But don't you keep your staff well-maintained? Sheepy: Bedi: ...So clearly, you must've made a mistake... Arsé-kun: Merlin: Someone tried to use it as a fetching stick. *he shoots Lobo a glare* Sheepy: Lobo: *he walks over to Merlin, places a paw on his face, and pushes him over. no.* Arsé-kun: Merlin: Ach! I'm being assaulted! Sheepy: Lobo: *boof* Sheepy: Guin: Lobo, no. Arsé-kun: Lance: Lobo, yes. Sheepy: Lobo: *he places a paw on Merlin's chest and stares directly into his eyes with a penetrating glare. know your place, Merlin* Sheepy: Lobo: *he hesitantly raises his paw and looks over at Guin and Lance* Sheepy: Bedi: Merlin, are you okay? Sheepy: *Bedi comes over to help Merlin up* Arsé-kun: Merlin: I'll live. Sheepy: Bedi: Sir Lancelot, I apologize that I couldn't stick around to talk yesterday. Arsé-kun: Lance: Accepted. You were busy. Sheepy: Bedi: I work as the ... I guess the term is "barista"? Arsé-kun: Lance: That sounds correct. Sheepy: Bedi: I'm there often, so if you go to the store again, I'd appreciate if you stopped by and said hello. Arsé-kun: Lance: If I am able to remember that after this, I shall. Sheepy: Bedi: I'll be looking forward to it, then! Sheepy: Bedi: How have you been and what have you been up to? Arsé-kun: Lance: Not very much. It's hard to keep a goal in mind as a Berserker. Yourself? Sheepy: *Satoru has finally left Mori's side to investigate Bedi's arm. touch. touch. Bedi doesn't seem to notice...* Sheepy: Bedi: I've been fine. I live with Merlin, so things are usually entertaining. Arsé-kun: Lance: I'm unsure if I should pity you or not. Sheepy: Satoru: It's shiny... why's it so shiny? Sheepy: Bedi: We are the only two servants, though, so... Sheepy: Bedi: It can be a bit overwhelming at times. Arsé-kun: Lance: That sounds peaceful. Or it would be, if not for Merlin. Sheepy: Bedi: ....Ah. Peaceful... Sheepy: Bedi: ...No, no, not really. Sheepy: Bedi: Even without Merlin it wouldn't be peaceful. Arsé-kun: Lance: Oh? That seems like a stretch. Sheepy: Bedi: Delving into detail would be breaking the trust that has been put on me, but at the same time, you're a very close friend... Arsé-kun: Lance: No, no. If it's that kind of case, I can live not hearing it. Sheepy: Bedi: Thank you. Sheepy: Bedi: If it weren't for that, then yes, it would be peaceful. Sheepy: Satoru: Do real knights always wear armor, Uncle Lance? Arsé-kun: Lance: We often do, yes. Sheepy: Bedi: I'm...very conflicted. Arsé-kun: Merlin: Doooo it. Sheepy: Bedi: But- Arsé-kun: Merlin: Before I do it! Sheepy: Sherlock: *he strides over like he owns the place* Based on my interrogation's results and the way you're acting... You know his biological father, yes? Arsé-kun: Merlin: Certainly. Congrats, kiddo, the dad you have was adopted! Sheepy: Bedi: Merlin, no! Arsé-kun: Merlin: Merlin yes! Sheepy: Guin: That... that'd explain a lot. Arsé-kun: Lance: I've been utterly underinformed. Catch me up to speed. Sheepy: Guin: How do I explain this... Sheepy: Guin: His "father", Masato, is... Sheepy: Guin: Neglectful, uncaring, and at times, downright abusive. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... .... Sheepy: Guin: And that's why Satoru summoned us. To be the family he wanted, as opposed to the family he had. Sheepy: Guin: The fact that he's the result of a different relationship makes a lot of sense. All that man sees him as is a tool. Arsé-kun: Lance: ..... I regret asking. Bedivere, spar with me. Sheepy: Bedi: Right here...? If you want to, but... why? Arsé-kun: Lance: Because I most likely won't be able to later. *he sounds a little growly..* Fight me. Sheepy: *Bedi takes out his sword* Arsé-kun: Lance: *he takes out his own and steps away from the others* Sheepy: *Bedi follows so they can spar over where they won't hurt anyone.* Arsé-kun: *AND THEY SPAR. INTENSE* sheep: Bedi: *pant* Have you calmed down now, Sir Lancelot...? Arsé-kun: Lance: *pant, pant* Yes, thank you. That was the best spar I've had in years. sheep: Bedi: Ahah, I can say the same... sheep: Bedi: We should go sit down. I think I overdid it, at least, haha. Arsé-kun: Lance: That would be... A great idea. sheep: *Bedi comes back to the group and plops down in the grass* Arsé-kun: *Lance follows his example* sheep: Guin: Welcome back! Arsé-kun: Lance: Thanks. sheep: Guin: *she joins them* sheep: Satoru: *he followed* Uncle Lance! Why aren't you a Lancer? Arsé-kun: Lance: Because I don't use a lance. sheep: Satoru: *he looks confused* sheep: Satoru: But... you lance a lot. Sheepy: Satoru: ...right? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he's been dragged outside by Kintaro. He's hanging onto Kintaro's shirt for dear life. Either way, he hears the pun and starts laughing* Sheepy: Satoru: .... Sheepy: Satoru: I thought it was a title? Sheepy: Satoru: You're Sir Lance A Lot because you use a lance a lot? Sheepy: Satoru: But I didn't know your name so I used what Auntie Guin called you instead. Arsé-kun: Lance: It's a name as well. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh! Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: What's going on out here, anyway? Sheepy: Satoru: Everyone's switched classes. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Oh, I learned that part the hard way! Sheepy: Gil: *he looks over at Mephisto* Hello! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Why, hello! Sheepy: Gil: You haven't met me before, but you've met Goldie! I'm Gilgamesh, but you can call me Gil! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Oh, there's a difference? Are you not going to threaten everyone? Sheepy: Gil: Goldie's a snobby rich king who let power get to his head. Sheepy: Gil: Unfortunately, I have no choice but to become him one day, but... Arsé-kun: Mephisto: But we can sure annoy him, can't we? Sheepy: Gil: Goldie doesn't deny my existence because he hates me, is embarrassed by me, or finds me in some way lacking in worth compared to him. Sheepy: Gil: Goldie denies my existence because he never was me, and I never will be him. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Actually, I just want to annoy him in general, but okay. Sheepy: Gil: You'll need to wait until that wizard is done to be able to annoy him. Sheepy: Gil: Since, I doubt he'll remember anything from now. Sheepy: Gil: Unless you mean you want to take a picture with me. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: You're taking pictures??? Of course I'll take one. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: That's gonna drive him nuts for sure. Sheepy: Gil: I have my doubts that it's possible to remember him ever being me. Arsé-kun: Merlin: i suggest magic. Sheepy: Gil: ? Arsé-kun: Merlin: Magic tends to be the answer to everything when done properly. Sheepy: Gil: But what if it's done improperly? Arsé-kun: Merlin: More magic fixes it. Sheepy: Gil: Well, okay. Arsé-kun: Merlin: Either way, I think I'm ready for the fix. Sheepy: Satoru: Really? Sheepy: Satoru: So is Uncle Lance going to make gurgling noises to communicate again? *he seems a little disappointed, despite only communicating with Lancelot for a few moments.* Arsé-kun: Merlin: I've got my doubts. Once given sanity, the brain most likely won't want to lose it, or something. I'm a magician, not a doctor. Sheepy: Satoru:....Well, okay. Sheepy: Satoru: I'll believe you. Sheepy: Sherlock: Once you finish your fix, I can finish my case, so the sooner, the better. Arsé-kun: Merlin: Righto. Everyone hold onto your hats. *he (finally) stands up and begins casting magic. the effect is near immediate.* Sheepy: Gil:....When did I get out here? Arsé-kun: Minako: This morning! We used your phone to keep track of everyone, if you don't mind. Sheepy: Gil: I see! Then, feel grateful I let you, mongrels! Arsé-kun: Herc: ... Stop talking. Sheepy: Gil: Don't order me around, mutt! Sheepy: Guin: Lance? How are you feeling? Arsé-kun: Lance: .... Tired. Unsure if it's the same tired or more tired. Sheepy: Guin: I'm sorry to hear that. Did you sleep last night? Arsé-kun: Lance: Yes, surprisingly. Sheepy: Guin: That's good. If you sleep more often, you may start to feel better. Arsé-kun: Herc: Then quit calling me a mutt, you gold-plated flapdoozle. Arsé-kun: *this is met with roaring laughter from Andersen. He seems to feel better* Sheepy: Gil:...Mmh, I thought that that pretty woman over there only taught one dog to speak. I wasn't aware that she taught you to speak as well, mutt. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... You shut up. Sheepy: Gil: Unfortunately, I haven't a care in my entire treasury to give you. Arsé-kun: Herc: Good. I don't want one. Sheepy: Gil: What, do you dislike me calling that woman with you attractive, or calling you what you are: some mongrel? Sheepy: Guin: Unless you want the beating of a lifetime, I'd suggest you not insult my husband. *she's smiling, but...* Arsé-kun: Lance: ... .... *he slowly copies her expression, making this more uncomfortable than it ever needed to be* Sheepy: Gil: Hahah! I love women with a wild side! Hahahahah! I guess even dirty mutts can choose good women sometimes! Good going, Lancelost! Because you are a Berserker and have lost your sense of self! Hahahhaa! Laugh, a King of Heroes Joke! Arsé-kun: Lance: ....... ......... Guinevere, dear, may I borrow your sword? Mine is far too small to do any damage to his thick skull. Sheepy: Guin: *she nods and passes him her sword* Arsé-kun: *Lance stands up with it. He stares at Gil* Sheepy: Gil: Ah, ah? Are you protecting your woman, mutt? How respectable! I wasn't aware there was more than anger in that one-tracked mind of yours! Arsé-kun: Lance: There is more. I don't believe you know the definition of loyalty. ... That, and I'd rather face you myself than let her destroy you. Sheepy: Guin: I am nobody's woman except for my own. Lance is protecting you from me. Sheepy: Gil: Loyalty is for weaklings. Sheepy: Gil: Loyalty is simply a word people use to control you. Sheepy: Gil:...Oh dear, I forgot! Sheepy: Gil: I'm speaking to the great Lancelot, Knight of the Round Table, loyal to the King Arthur! But wait, wasn't it that woman there who caused your downfall, along with your betrayal of your king? Sheepy: Gil: Why should I listen to a speech about loyalty from someone who's anything but? Arsé-kun: Lance: No. You won't listen anyway. Sheepy: Gil: I won't listen to a hypocrite like you. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... Well, then. Guinevere, take your weapon back. Sheepy: Guin: *she is shaking ftom anger. maybe now is a good time for everyone to back off and recollect their thoughts- aaand she almost yanks the sword away, clutching it tightly. there's the armor.* Arsé-kun: Lance: Go get him, babe. Sheepy: *Despite her very heavy-looking armor, Guin launches herself at Gil! Gil jumps away. he attempts to defuse the situation by complimenting her appearance in comparison to Artoria's, which only serves to make Guin more mad. A fight breaks out.* Arsé-kun: Jekyll: *since remerging with Hyde, he's had a killer headache. This is not helping, so he decides to stumble his way back to the house.* Arsé-kun: Lance: *he keeps his eyes on the fight, just in case Guin needs help* Sheepy: *After a while, Guin seems to start to tire.* Arsé-kun: Lance: *he, with his armor, decides to step in, hijacking a fallen weapon to get started* Sheepy: Guin: *pant, pant* Sheepy: Gil: *he aims a few Gates of Babylonia at both of them* Who invited you, dog? Sheepy: Satoru: *he gently tugs on Gil's coat* Sheepy: Gil: What is it, mongrel? Can't you see that I'm busy?! Sheepy: Satoru: *stare* Sheepy: Gil:...Out with it, pup! I don't have all day! Sheepy: Satoru: *stare* Sheepy: Gil: You're making me uncomfortable!! Stop!! Arsé-kun: Lance: *he skids to a stop upon noticing Satoru. He's far too close.* Arsé-kun: Merlin: Well, that's one way to stop a fight. Sheepy: Gil: Can someone please get this kid away from me so I can go back to teaching those two a lesson? Sheepy: Satoru: Oh, oh! I remember what I wanted to say now! You forgot your hair gel! Sheepy: Gil: ?! Sheepy: Gil: *He rushes inside. His hair is more important than Lancelot.* Arsé-kun: Lance: .... ..... *he quietly laughs, but it ends up louder* No one tell him it's empty. Sheepy: Satoru: Huh? Okay. Sheepy: Satoru: But how will he know to go to the store and buy more? Arsé-kun: Minako: Thhhree, twooo, any time now.. Sheepy: *Gil basically kicks the door open* Sheepy: Gil: Who did it?! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Did what? Sheepy: Gil: Used my hair gel? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Wasn't me. I was upstairs all day. Sheepy: Gil: I demand whoever did it to speak up, or I'll punish the person of my choice! Arsé-kun: Mori: It was no one of my household, so keep us out of it. Sheepy: Gil: It doesn't matter if you're responsible or not if it's intended to make a statement! Sheepy: Gil: ...So, since obviously no one is going to speak up. Sheepy: *Gil snaps his fingers. Kintaro gets hit with Gates of Babylon! Ouch.* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Hey!! Uncalled for, you jerk! Sheepy: Gil: What're you going to do about it, clown? Sheepy: *Satoru goes over to Kintaro to see if he's okay.* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: I'll stuff your damn treasury full of bombs, that's what I'll do! Sheepy: Gil: Hah! What do you care anyway? Sheepy: Gil: Why stand up for some idiot mongrel when nobody cares about you anyway? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *his tails stop moving. He's silent for a moment, then suddenly grins, cheshire style* Because it entertained me, of course! Ehehe! It doesn't matter! What did you expect from a clown? Sheepy: Gil: Ah, so you're a daredevil. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Not exact-ly! You want to know what I am? Sheepy: Gil: What? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: I'm not going to tell you! Did you think I'd make things so easy for the King of Heroes? Laugh, for I've made a Kings of Heroes joke! Sheepy: Gil: Don't compare yourself to me, fool! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Tooooooo late! Arsé-kun: *Mephisto dodges the attack, before making a beeline for the gate itself* Sheepy: Gil: ?! Arsé-kun: Mephisto: You can't hit me if I've got all your stuff hostaaaaage~ *he zips in before Gil can close it* Sheepy: Gil: ...Hmph, idiot. Sheepy: Gil: Have fun rotting in there. Arsé-kun: Minako: Hey, you said nobody could get in there! Sheepy: Gil: He just got lucky. Arsé-kun: Minako: Nothing bad better happen to him in there! Sheepy: Gil: Whatever. Sheepy: Gil: I could get him out if you really want me to. Arsé-kun: Minako: Without stabbing him? Sheepy: Gil: *He points his Gates of Babylon at Kintaro again* Arsé-kun: Minako: Hey, hey! Sheepy: Gil: Mephisto, do you want your friend to live? Then get out. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he pops his head back out* Sheesh, you're an asshole! Sheepy: Gil: Get. Out. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Then don't you dare ever hit him again, or I'll start taking shit. *for once, he's dropped the grin in favor of being dead serious* And I'll personally destroy them, you got it? Sheepy: Gil: I'll hit him again if you don't get out. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he gets out, mostly* Don't do it again. Sheepy: Gil: Get out and I won't. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he exits, but still looks cross with Gil* Sheepy: *Gil closes it* Arsé-kun: Medusa: .... *this is interesting and all but is the dude alive* Sheepy: *Sort of? Satoru has a blank expression on his face* Arsé-kun: *what do you mean Sort Of* Sheepy: *He's a little conscious?* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he decides staring down Gil is not going to help anyone and floats away to check on Kintaro.* Youuuu all right, buddy? Sheepy: *Kintaro looks over at Mephisto. He seems dazed. It'd be easier to tell if he was if he wasn't wearing his stupid sunglasses.* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he moves a bit closer, to try and peer over his glasses* Sheepy: *Kintaro squints, trying to clear up his vision* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Taro? Sheepy: *Kintaro pats Mephisto's face, visibly confused* Sheepy: Kintaro: Your face is all... blurry. Sheepy: Satoru: Clown, is he okay? Can you help him? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Well, he's alive. I'm of no help otherwise here. Arsé-kun: Minako: *she goes to retrieve the weapon that was thrown at Kintaro. It proceeds to be fucking heavy. be entertained by her trying to drag it to Gil. so she can try to smack him with it* Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Thank you for stepping in. Sheepy: Lobo: *he comes over to Minako and picks it up* Arsé-kun: Minako: Good boy! Sheepy: Lobo: *his tail is wagging. he is waiting for direction as to what to do wih it.* Sheepy: Gil: Don't touch my treasure, fleabag! Arsé-kun: Minako: Let him have it, pup! Sheepy: Lobo: *he drops it on Gil's foot. Gil yelps and clutches his foot.* Sheepy: Kintaro: *he slowly sits up* D-don't worry - this is nothing. Arsé-kun: Roman: *he's been freed from Lobo, so he can FINALLY come over. and check on Kintaro, while he's at it* sheep: Satoru: Ah! Dr. Marshmallow is here! Arsé-kun: Roman: I said I was coming, didn't I? Here, let me see the wound. Sheepy: Kintaro: *he sits still so Roman can look* Arsé-kun: Roman: Ouch. Doesn't seem to be too bad, but don't do too much until it heals. *he sticks a bandaid onto it. it's gold. it has hello kitty on it* Sheepy: Kintaro: A very very golden thank you... Sheepy: Satoru: It's, uh... Sheepy: Satoru:...Pikachu! Arsé-kun: Roman: *he looks to Satoru, and hands him the bracelet he owes* As promised! Sheepy: Satoru: !! Sheepy: Satoru: Thank you! Arsé-kun: Roman: Quite welcome! Sheepy: Satoru: Dr. Marshmallow, Kintaro said he'd drive you home, but at this point that'll be impossible until he recovers. Sheepy: Satoru: So what will you do until then? Arsé-kun: Roman: Oh, I'll figure something out ^^ Arsé-kun: Merlin: Yooo, Doc Ock! *he comes over and claps Roman's shoulder* What are you doin' here? Arsé-kun: Roman: Had a delivery to make, Magi- Arsé-kun: Merlin: Don't you dare say anything about that in public! Arsé-kun: Roman: Okay, okay! I won't! I was just going to remind you to fill queue! Arsé-kun: Merlin: Yeah, yeah! Hey, Bedi, do you think Eij would mind a visitor? Arsé-kun: *Another Meanwhile! Vlad has hurried back inside, most likely to "discard" the garlic bread. Eliza's gone back inside, but she's eyeing Carmilla-senpai from the window. Jekyll- or is it Hyde?- comes back outside. Lance has sat back down with Guin. Proto lies down on the grass for a nap* Sheepy: Bedi: Good afternoon, Dr. Romani. Sheepy: Bedi: I doubt he'll mind Dr. Romani visiting, if you mean him. Detective... Holmes, I believe? Already left to speak with him. Sheepy: *Guin has taken off her helmet and looks exhausted. Cu joins Proto in taking a nap in the grass. Gil hurried back inside. Carmilla is petting Lobo. Rider is staring at Eliza... maybe? Emiya has gone back inside.* Sheepy: Bedi: Although, I suspect that he will be taking action sooner than expected due to what Detective Holmes will be informing him of, and his mood may not be the best. Sheepy: Bedi: So, while you stay with us, please don't bring up Satoru's similarities to him. Arsé-kun: Roman: ... You know, I hadn't noticed until you brought it up! But yeah, gotcha. Arsé-kun: Herc: ... ... *he doesn't seem sure what to do. Time to resume archery practice. This bow is not his. He's using it anyway* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: ..... *he puts a hand on Kintoki's shoulder* You wanna go inside n' do something? Sheepy: *Kintaro nods* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Cool! Just don't make me carry you! *he'll try if he has to, though* Sheepy: *Kintaro unsteadily stands* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Steady! You're not some broken see-saw, are you? Sheepy: Kintaro: No, Moose... my head just hurts a lot. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Gotcha. Here, let me... *he goes behind Kintaro, and hooks his arms under taro's. Support!* Sheepy: Kintaro: *he appreciates this.* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Hum! My place is closer. Not a problem, right? Sheepy: *Kintaro shakes his head* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Neato. *and they Get Going* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Here, Taro, have the couch. Sheepy: *Kintaro takes the couch.* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: You, uh, want anything? Or something? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Oh, duh! Sure, lemme see if we haaaave any! Sheepy: Kintaro: Alright.. Arsé-kun: *Mephisto zips off to find one. He comes back with an icepack and two icepops* Sheepy: Kintaro:...? Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he hands the icepack over, and starts opening a pop* ...? What? You want one? Sheepy: Kintaro: No thank you. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Well, okay! *he opens the other one. and proceeds to stick them both in his mouth* look Taro, I'm a walrus. Sheepy: *This makes Kintaro laugh. mature.* Arsé-kun: Mephisto: *he makes some fucking noise. is it supposed to be a walrus noise??* Sheepy: *Kintaro laughs more. please* Sheepy: Kintaro: Moose... thank you for acting like you cared when I was hit. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: What do you mean "like"? Thank you for acting like you cared when I was sick. Sheepy: Kintaro: No problem, buddy. It's what friends do. The number one golden rule. Sheepy: Kintaro: Don't believe Goldie, by the way. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: .. Huh? Sheepy: Kintaro: I heard what he said to you when you went into that portal thingy. It's not true. I care about you and Chief likes you as well. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Oh. Yeah. Of course he lied! Master Mink cares about me, too..! Sheepy: Kintaro: Yes, her too, I'm sure. Sheepy: Kintaro: I can't see why she'd be too different from Chief in that respect. She's just more open and expressive compared to Chief. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Is it hard figuring him out? He seemed so..... Sheepy: Kintaro: Chief has... difficulties showing how he feels, probably because of Masanori. You'll come to learn the subtle differences that show how he feels if you're around him enough. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Gotcha. We're neighbors, so I'll probably be around a bunch! Sheepy: Kintaro: Earlier, he was actually very upset. His left eyebrow was furrowed. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Just the left? Sheepy: Kintaro: Yes. Sheepy: Kintaro: It's important to know when you're pushing his emotional limits. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Well! The more I know! *his tails have finally stopped being stiff. He seems to have relaxed, and they're kinda just doing. whatever they want* Sheepy: Kintaro: Yes! If he plays dead, you know you've gone too far. Arsé-kun: Mephisto: Hmm.. Sheepy: *Meanwhile, an arm suddenly wraps around Mori's shoulder..* Sheepy: Sherlock: Good evening, Professor Moriarty! Arsé-kun: Mori: *fOR THE LOVE OF GOD* What do you want, Holmes?! Sheepy: Sherlock: Is that how you greet all of your friendly rivals? Sheepy: Sherlock: Ah... I guess I'm the only one, now that I think of it. Arsé-kun: Mori: You're going to give me cardiac arrest at this rate! Sheepy: Sherlock: Can servants even have cardiac arrest? Arsé-kun: Mori: I don't see why not. Sheepy: Sherlock: Well, they can survive car accidents just fine, so... Sheepy: Sherlock: Although, I wonder if car accidents count as Rider type damage? Arsé-kun: Mori: Carry on. What, exactly, do you want? Sheepy: Sherlock: Can I not speak with an old ...hmm, friend is too strong of a word. Sheepy: Sherlock: Even if two people are friendly, that doesn't necessarily mean they're friends. Arsé-kun: Mori: We're absolutely not. Get your hand off of me. Sheepy: Sherlock: *he moves his hand* Arsé-kun: Mori: Where did you run off to, anyways? Sheepy: Sherlock: To his father's house so I could discuss the matter with his mother. Arsé-kun: Mori: You did not come from... ... Ah, I see what you mean. Sheepy: Sherlock: Until I find the "missing person" and clear up all loose ends, my case isn't done. Arsé-kun: Mori: Then go finish up, will you? Sheepy: Sherlock: You are the one who asked. Sheepy: Sherlock: And so, I told you where she is. Sheepy: Sherlock: Masato didn't appear to care. Arsé-kun: Mori: You have. However, Satoru needs to be given an understanding of the situation. As the detective, it is your job to do so. Sheepy: Sherlock: You yourself stated he didnt care.. Arsé-kun: Mori: And he does not. What I'm trying to say is to leave me alone. Sheepy: Sherlock: *he frowns* Sheepy: Sherlock: So you're saying that you didn't get any enjoyment out of our battles of wit? Sheepy: Sherlock: Do you intend to let yourself stagnate with no one of your caliber to compete with? Sheepy: Sherlock: I see. Arsé-kun: Mori: This is not competing. If we have the chance to, then I'll enjoy it. Sheepy: Sherlock: However, if all we do is compete, what are we? Arsé-kun: Mori: Rivals. Sheepy: Sherlock: Incorrect. Sheepy: Sherlock: We are strangers. Sheepy: Sherlock: Two people can compete for any goal, but if they don't even stop to speak to one another, they might as well be strangers- Sheepy: Satoru: If you're lonely you can talk to me. Sheepy: Sherlock: Lonely...? No, no. I'm not speaking with him because I want companionship. Arsé-kun: Mori: Sure. sheep: Sherlock: I'm not! Arsé-kun: Mori: Then why not interact with anyone else? Or is it because I'm the only one you're familiar with? sheep: Sherlock: I don't know anyone else. Arsé-kun: Mori: ... Fine. I will tolerate you for now. sheep: Sherlock: "Tolerate"... Arsé-kun: Mori: As nice as it is to see you, it's not exactly comforting. Neither of us want a repeat of the last time we were together. sheep: Sherlock: As long as we stay away from waterfalls, we should be fine. Arsé-kun: Mori: Touché. sheep: Satoru: Your corset makes you look like a spider. Arsé-kun: Mori: Doesn't it? sheep: Sherlock: I... guess so. *he mumbles something about hating spiders* Arsé-kun: Mori: What was that? Speak up. sheep: Sherlock: ... sheep: Sherlock: *he mumbles again about spiders.* Arsé-kun: Mori: .... .... Would you like to come inside? Perhaps we could have a bout of wits over chess and tea. sheep: Sherlock: Ah! That sounds nice. sheep: Satoru: Grandpa, I found Choo Choo earlier today, but... Cu Chu stepped on him! Arsé-kun: Mori: Rest in the floor tiles. sheep: Satoru: Choo Choo was my friend. sheep: Satoru: He was Lobo's friend too. Lobo would play tag with him, but Lobo always seemed to be it... Arsé-kun: Mori: Choo choo gave everyone anxiety because of that damn movie. sheep: Satoru: Kintaro didn't see it so he can't say whether he liked it or not Arsé-kun: Mori: I doubt he would. sheep: Satoru: I didn't understand it but I found it strange! sheep: Sherlock: What's Choo Choo? Arsé-kun: Mori: A particularly large bug. sheep: Sherlock: ...... sheep: Sherlock: ...how many legs? Arsé-kun: Mori: How many does a centapede have? Fifty? sheep: Satoru: They can have between 15 and 177 pairs of legs. Arsé-kun: Mori: Too many. sheep: Satoru: Choo Choo has 15 pairs of legs. Arsé-kun: Mori: Enough of this discussion, though. sheep: Satoru: He's a male because his 15th pair isn't really long. sheep: Sherlock: *he looks downright terrified* Arsé-kun: Minako: What are we talking about? sheep: Satoru: Choo Choo! Arsé-kun: Minako: Ours? Or..? sheep: Satoru: He's a centipede and my friend!! Cu Chu stepped on him. sheep: Satoru: He didn't like the human centipede that much... Arsé-kun: Minako: I've heard things about that movie... Is it worth it? sheep: Satoru: I didn't get it but I liked it. Arsé-kun: Minako: If a kid can watch it, it can't be that bad! sheep: Satoru: Auntie Guin was the only one who didn't leave partway through or hold someone else for comfort. sheep: Satoru: I don't get why. It wasn't that bad. Arsé-kun: Minako: I take it back? Now I wanna watch it though. Arsé-kun: Mori: .... So, Sherlock, lets get going, hm? sheep: Sherlock: *he nods, looking a little sick to his stomach* Arsé-kun: *Mori and Sherlock escape successfully* sheep: Satoru: I named Choo Choo after a train because he looked like one. Arsé-kun: Minako: Good point! Millipedes kinda do, too. sheep: Satoru: I want a pet millipede! sheep: Satoru: They look like really long rolly-pollies! Arsé-kun: Minako: They're cute! sheep: Satoru: I like centipedes because they're prickly! Lobo likes to play with them. sheep: Satoru: And then he eats them. sheep: Lobo: *he heard his name.* Arsé-kun: Minako: Puppy! sheep: Lobo: *boof* Arsé-kun: Minako: Oh, hey! You got the bracelet! Sheepy: Satoru: Uhuh! Dr Marshmallow gave it to me! Arsé-kun: Minako: *she laughs* Marshmallow??? Oh, I'm so calling him that from now on! Sheepy: Satoru: His hair reminds me of marshmallows. Arsé-kun: Minako: It does, you're right! Sheepy: Satoru: Why do doctors need teleporters? Sheepy: Satoru: What will ambulances do if they aren't needed anymore? Sheepy: Satoru: Is he a real doctor??? Arsé-kun: Minako: Oh, he's definitely a doctor. He's only allowed to use the teleporter cause Chaldea needed a stand-in boss, and he was the only one there with enough qualifications. As for the ambulances, no idea! Sheepy: Satoru: He looks like a college student from movies. One who sleeps and then realizes that he never did his essay and is going to fail his finals. Arsé-kun: Minako: Hhhhhuh. Maybe? Sheepy: Satoru: That's why his hair is messy and he walks around with his coat open. Sheepy: Satoru: Because he's always just gotten out of bed. Arsé-kun: Roman: *this isn't weird.* Sheepy: Satoru: Hello! Arsé-kun: Roman: Hi again! I realize I forgot to show you how that bracelet works! Sheepy: Satoru: How does it work? Arsé-kun: Roman: Easily. *he presses a button on the O of Fiction. A little holographic screen pops up!* Here's the main screen. Sheepy: Satoru: *he is visibly impressed* Arsé-kun: Roman: ....And here's the last thing! This is what I call the mission screen! If there's ever anything that needs to get done, it'll be posted here. If there's one close by, why not take one up tomorrow? Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. I'll do my best. Arsé-kun: Roman: Great! Sheepy: Satoru: What are missions usually like? Arsé-kun: Roman: They vary. Sometimes they're just community service. Sometimes there's a monster that needs to be stopped. Sheepy: Satoru: Monsters? Arsé-kun: Roman: M-hm. That's not too common, last I checked. Sheepy: Satoru: I saw a monster earlier. Arsé-kun: Roman: Literally, or are you insulting someone? sheep: Satoru: It was Godzilla. sheep: Satoru: She was on TV and fighting a moth. Arsé-kun: Roman: *he sighs with relief* Not that kind of monster. I wouldn't expect anyone to fight something that big! sheep: Satoru: I wouldn't fight Godzilla. sheep: Satoru: She's just a mom who's trying to protect her baby. Arsé-kun: Roman: Fair point. sheep: Satoru: She's a good parent. sheep: Satoru: I wished for a dad like Godzilla and instead Vlad appeared... Vlad isn't a dinosaur but that's okay. Arsé-kun: *Roman takes a moment or so to take in that information* sheep: Satoru: He's as old as a dinosaur. sheep: Satoru: Vampires come from the age of the dinosaurs but they all died when the comet hit which is why we never see vampires anymore. Arsé-kun: Roman: If he's alive, apparently not. sheep: Satoru: The comet was actually Santa Claus delivering the greatest gift to humanity: life. sheep: Satoru: ...So says Kintaro, but... sheep: Satoru: ...Santa Claus doesn't exist, so who killed the dinosaurs? Arsé-kun: Roman: The meteor did that. sheep: Satoru: But who sent the meteor? Arsé-kun: Roman: Space? sheep: Satoru: *gasp* Arsé-kun: Roman: Space kind of does what it wants. sheep: Satoru: I don't like space anymore. Arsé-kun: Roman: Space is scary. sheep: Satoru: I wanted to meet the dinosaurs... Arsé-kun: Minako: Birds are pretty close.. sheep: Satoru: Birds are the dinosaurs after they went to heaven. sheep: Satoru: That's why they have wings. sheep: Satoru: They're angels. sheep: Satoru: Flightless birds are fallen dinosaur angels whose wings burned when their hearts opened to sin. sheep: Satoru: Kiwis are like the bird equivalents of Icarus. They're blind because they flew too close to the sun. Arsé-kun: Roman: Who told you that?? sheep: Satoru: The same person who told me that vampires are weak to the sun because it reminds them of their final moments before the meteor struck... Kintaro. Arsé-kun: Roman: Well, Riders do tend to be... Eccentric.. sheep: Satoru: He's very smart, which is why nothing he says makes sense sheep: Lobo: Aruuuu? *he heard Rider. he's curious. he tilts his head some* Arsé-kun: Minako: Puppy!! sheep: Rider: "Don't group me in with the likes of him." sheep: Rider: "His intended class is Berserker, anyway." Arsé-kun: Roman: I meant the class. You and Lobo are Avengers, after all! sheep: Rider: "I see." Arsé-kun: Roman: But, yes, having originally been a Berserker probably does play a part in it. sheep: Rider: "Berserkers are usually idiots." Arsé-kun: Roman: Not exactly. Most often, they're just sanity-impaired and judgement-impaired. sheep: Rider: "They act like idiots, then." Arsé-kun: Roman: Fine. sheep: Rider: "The only exception being Vlad, surprisingly." Arsé-kun: Roman: His I can explain. He was originally a Lancer. Berserker was the best class to give after becoming a vampire with a reason for bloodlust. sheep: Rider: "I see." Arsé-kun: Roman: This might be rude, but do you..? Like, actually? sheep: Rider: ........ sheep: Rider: *he slowly raises his hands to answer and then stops* sheep: Rider: ............. Arsé-kun: Roman: You know what? Never mind. sheep: Rider: "I... don't know." Arsé-kun: Roman: Chalk it up to ghost powers and call it a day? sheep: Rider: .... sheep: Rider: "...Sometimes during the spring, because of the pollen, my eyes water and I feel like sneezing but..." sheep: Rider: "...When I go to rub my eyes or sneeze, I remember that I'm incapable of it." Arsé-kun: Roman: That's harsh. sheep: *Rider walks off, having an existential crisis* Arsé-kun: Roman: I hereby fire myself from asking those kinds of questions. Sheepy: Satoru: I once asked him how he can think or feel considering he has no brain and later I found him huddled in the corner in a fetal position, shaking. Arsé-kun: Roman: Maybe we shouldn't ask at all. Sheepy: Satoru: Lobo never makes him sad like that. Lobo knows him well. Sheepy: *Bedi is quietly lurking near Lance* Arsé-kun: Lance: .....? Sheepy: Bedi: ...Ah, sorry, am I bothering you? I can leave. Arsé-kun: Lance: Not at all. Sheepy: Bedi: Do you mind if I sit next to you? Arsé-kun: Lance: Nope. Go ahead. Sheepy: *Bedi sits down* Sheepy: Bedi: I'm happy for you. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... Thank you, Bedivere. Sheepy: Bedi: I know I sided with King Arthur, but... I don't think of you as any less of a person for your actions. I think more of you. We who served the king were called "brave" for our actions, but we had a strong leader. You were alone fighting this strong leader for your beliefs, and that... takes courage and love that I never knew existed in such levels. Arsé-kun: Lance: ..... ..... I tried to come back, too. I wanted to help fight at Camhain. I was not allowed to. Sheepy: Bedi: I'm sorry. Arsé-kun: Lance: ... It's fine, I suppose. I got what I deserved eventually. Sheepy: Bedi: Yes. Life with the one you love. Arsé-kun: Lance: That wasn't what I was saying... Sheepy: Bedi: Huh? Arsé-kun: Lance: ... Artoria let me off. We knights were meant to be punished for crimes, yes? But she wouldn't. It drove me nuts, until she finally did so. I don't want to say I was a masochist or anything of the sort, but.. Sheepy: Bedi: I wasn't punished for my crime either. Sheepy: Bedi: I can understand how it feels. Arsé-kun: Lance: I'm a Berserker for a reason. I'm not sure you do. You want me to kick your ass for it? Sheepy: Bedi: Yes, you're right. It hasn't driven me nuts. Arsé-kun: Lance: ... Though, I'm still a Berserker, and I'll most likely return to my former mentality tomorrow. I'm over it, so why am I still..? Sheepy: Bedi: I don't know. Sheepy: Bedi: Do you want me to punch you for it too? Arsé-kun: Lance: Please. Sheepy: Bedi: *he punches Lance* Arsé-kun: Lance: Yow! Did... Did you just dent...? *he has to take his helmet off to look* Sheepy: Bedi: It's a representation of my sin. Arsé-kun: Lance: Almost breaking my shoulder isn't a sin, Bedi. Sheepy: Bedi: Ah...I'm sorry. Sheepy: Bedi: My arm isn't just metal like when we were alive and I forget this sometimes. Arsé-kun: Lance: What did you do, anyway? Sheepy: Bedi: I failed King Arthur's final mission for me. Arsé-kun: Lance: Is that really a sin..? Sheepy: Bedi: I hesitated before returning the Excalibur to the lady of the lake and found I couldn't do it. Arsé-kun: Lance: ..? Sheepy: Bedi: I lied to King Arthur, stating that I had seen nothing out of the ordinary, and was berated for my actions. Sheepy: Bedi: He was dying but he lost his trust in me and insisted to watch as I returned it. Arsé-kun: Lance: ... You don't have to say he, you know. It's only me. Sheepy: Bedi: It's habit. Sheepy: Bedi: To remind me of my crime... Arsé-kun: Lance: Fair enough. You got berated, though. That on it's own is a punishment. Sheepy: Bedi: My arm was infused with the power of the Excalibur. Arsé-kun: Lance: I want to be jealous of that. Sheepy: Bedi: It's not as fun as it might sound. Arsé-kun: Lance: More fun than going berserk. Sheepy: Bedi:...You're not wrong. Arsé-kun: Lance: ... I wonder if it would be able to stop me from going berserk, actually. Sheepy: Bedi: We could try... Arsé-kun: Lance: But not now. Sheepy: Bedi: How will we fix your armor? Arsé-kun: Lance: Like we always do. Stop looking at it for a while. Sheepy: Bedi: That's how to never get anything done... Arsé-kun: Lance: Punch the inside of it. Done. Sheepy: Bedi: Do you want me to...? Arsé-kun: Lance: Later. Too much of a hassle taking it all off now. Sheepy: Bedi: Have you experienced the magic of making coffee yet? Arsé-kun: Lance: Nope. Never had it. Sheepy: Bedi: You haven't? Arsé-kun: Lance: Nope. Sheepy: Bedi: I'm not a fan of the taste myself unless it has milk, but... I think I've gotten skilled at making it. Arsé-kun: Lance: You can do that..? I've only seen it be... Just coffee. Then again, I'm using Andersen for reference.. Sheepy: Bedi: Yes. I can't handle bitter things. Arsé-kun: Lance: Oh, it's bitter? ... Maybe not, then. Sheepy: Bedi: You can make it sweet. Arsé-kun: Lance: Thank goodness. Sheepy: Bedi: It depends on the beans you use, your blend, and whatever additional things you put in it. Sheepy: Bedi: Eiji has us working at the store as well because, well, I wouldn't say we have a lot of money.... Sheepy: Bedi:...But we're happy with what we have, and that's what matters. I learned about coffee for my job, which is fun except when it's crowded. Arsé-kun: Lance: ... Huh. Arsé-kun: Lance: Either way, I'll come by one day. If you're not busy, maybe you can tell me more. Sheepy: Bedi: That sounds nice. Arsé-kun: *anyway, everyone goes home. kintaro is dropped off by Mephisto. Vlad hasn't stopped dying, but that's his problem.* Sheepy: *In the middle of their conversation, Sherlock suddenly rolls up a nearby paper and... maybe there was a spider there? If there was, there isn't one anymore.* Arsé-kun: Mori: Good shot. Sheepy: Sherlock: ...I don't know where it went. Arsé-kun: Mori: It's probably gone. Don't worry about it. Sheepy: Sherlock: Did you see the size of it...? Arsé-kun: Mori: I did not. I was not looking. Sheepy: *A few minutes later, Sherlock bats at it again... it's not there...* Arsé-kun: Mori: ... Sheepy: Sherlock: Ah... I missed. Arsé-kun: Mori: I did not see anything that time. Sheepy: Sherlock: I did. Arsé-kun: Mori: .... .... Have you eaten at all today? Sheepy: Sherlock: Are you concerned about me? *he laughs* I had a granola bar, don't worry. Arsé-kun: Mori: That's it?? Sheepy: Sherlock: Yes. Arsé-kun: Mori: I'm more concerned about the energy tolls you may be taking on your master. Go eat something. I can't believe I have to tell you this! Sheepy: Sherlock: You sound like you're my mom! Sheepy: Sherlock: Babysitting truly has taken a toll on you Arsé-kun: Moriarty: When your lack of self care skills kill your master, I don't want to hear anything. Sheepy: Sherlock: Okay, Mother Moriarty. Arsé-kun: Mori: Go home and take care of yourself. I absolutely cannot believe I have to tell you this. Sheepy: Sherlock:...Fine. Sheepy: Sherlock: Watson used to tell me. Sheepy: *Sherlock gets up* Arsé-kun: Mori: We can continue our discussion tomorrow if you're still alive. Sheepy: Sherlock: Good night, Professor Moriarty. *he leaves* Arsé-kun: Mori: *he waits a minute or so* I'm free. Arsé-kun: Mori: *he swivels his chair around, and puts the tv on. It's a science documentary about waterfalls.* Sheepy: *Remember your great fall, Mori?* Arsé-kun: *He'd rather not to! He changes the channel. It's the Emperor's New Groove! All well and good... Except it's the waterfall scene.* Sheepy: *Thats your favorite scene, right?* Arsé-kun: Mori: *he skips a few stations. Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull-- Tv is turned off* Sheepy: *Did you have a nice trip at the Reichenbach falls, Mori?* Arsé-kun: *Nope!* Sheepy: *Meanwhile, Satoru in his room, reading!* Arsé-kun: *There is a Knock on his Door.* Sheepy: Satoru: *he opens it* Arsé-kun: *It's Dad! And he doesn't look mad or annoyed at you for once!* Sheepy: Satoru:...Um, hello. Arsé-kun: Masato?: Good evening. *he's carrying himself and speaking in a rather proper manner... It's rather odd* It's come to my attention that not all of your homework has been handed in. Has it been completed? Sheepy: Satoru:...Not all of it. Arsé-kun: Masato?: Oh? Whyever not? Sheepy: Satoru: I got busy with... other things. Arsé-kun: Masato?: May I take what has been done, then? Sheepy: Satoru: Yes. Arsé-kun: Masato?: Then go ahead and get it. I shall wait. Sheepy: *Satoru goes to get the homework he's completed.* Arsé-kun: Masato?: *he takes a step into the room, but does nothing else* Sheepy: Satoru: *he hands it to Masato* Arsé-kun: Masato?: Thank you. Sheepy: Satoru: Um.. you're welcome. Arsé-kun: Masato?: *he starts looking through the papers* Sheepy: Satoru:........ Arsé-kun: Masato?: .... This is all you have done? Sheepy: Satoru:..Yeah. Arsé-kun: Masato?: This entire week, and this is it? Sheepy: Satoru:...yeah. Arsé-kun: Masato?: Forget about what we want you to do for a moment. How will you survive as an adult if you don't handle responsibilities now? Sheepy: Satoru: Um... I don't know. Arsé-kun: Masato?: Has the lesson not been hammered into you yet? Sheepy: Satoru:....I don't know. Arsé-kun: Masato?: I see. *he neatly puts the papers down* Sheepy: Satoru:....... Arsé-kun: Masato?: Come here, you. Sheepy: *Satoru slowly approaches* Arsé-kun: *Masato? grabs a hold of Satoru. A single, disciplinary smack is one thing. Actively hurting the child is another.* Sheepy: *Satoru goes limp... apparently he's decided playing dead is the best solution to this.* Arsé-kun: Masato?: Pathetic. *he drops Satoru. literally* No wonder your mother left. She's probably embarrassed by how worthless you are. *with that, he picks up the papers and leaves* Sheepy: Satoru:......... Arsé-kun: Mozart: *he comes in moments later, clearly concerned* Are you okay? Sheepy: Satoru: *he shakes his head. no. no he isn't.* Arsé-kun: Mozart: I should have come in before I heard... That. I'm very sorry. Sheepy: Satoru: There's nothing you can do. Arsé-kun: Mozart: I could have stopped him. *he sits down next to Satoru* Sheepy: Satoru:...No. Arsé-kun: Mozart: No? Sheepy: Satoru: He'd just come back later. Arsé-kun: Mozart: Which he may do anyway. I'm going to stay here with you. Sheepy: Satoru:...thanks. Arsé-kun: Mozart: Quite welcome. Would you like me to help you change, or are you ready for bed as is? Sheepy: Satoru: I can't sleep. Arsé-kun: Mozart: We'll see about that. Sheepy: Satoru: What if he comes back...? Arsé-kun: Mozart: Then I'll kick him out. Sheepy: Satoru: ...Okay. Arsé-kun: Mozart: Here, it's getting late. *he offers a hand to Satoru* Lets go to bed, shall we? Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Arsé-kun: *Mozart carefully picks up Satoru, and places him into bed. He sits down nearby, and picks up a toy keyboard from the floor* Sheepy: Satoru:...? Arsé-kun: Mozart: Does this still work..? *it turns on* Excellent. Arsé-kun: *Mozart slowly begins to play it.* Sheepy: *It seems to be helping Satoru relax.* Arsé-kun: *as intended.* Sheepy: *Eventually, Satoru drifts off to sleep. you did it mozart you helped.* Arsé-kun: *Mission Accomplished.* Arsé-kun: *The next morning, Mozart is no longer there. Time to get up!* Sheepy: *Satoru gets up and goes downstairs.* Arsé-kun: *And the first thing in sight is Vlad holding back Mozart's arms so he can't scratch and tear at himself. Vlad looked annoyed at most, but Mozart, poor Mozart, his wild eyes darting about as he struggles* Sheepy: Satoru: Uncle Mozzy?! Sheepy: *Satoru rushes over to the two* Arsé-kun: *Mozart doesn't seem to hear him at all, not noticing Satoru until he is seen* Sheepy: Satoru:...? Arsé-kun: *Upon closer inspection, Mozart looks more panicked than anything* Sheepy: Satoru: *he hugs Mozart. does this help?* Arsé-kun: Mozart: ..! *it helps a little* Arsé-kun: Vlad: Temporary hearing loss. He'll be fine. There seems to be a boggart about. Arsé-kun: Vlad: From Sherlock having seen a spider, to James having seen nothing on the telly but waterfalls, there is no other explanation. Sheepy: Satoru: Boggart...? Sheepy: Satoru: ...........Maybe... that was just the boggart too. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Wolfgang did mention something occurring last night.. Lets presume it was the boggart until otherwise noted. sheep: Satoru: Okay, it makes more sense that way. sheep: Satoru: How long will Mozzy be deaf? Arsé-kun: Vlad: I don't know. sheep: Satoru: Can we make the boggart go away? Arsé-kun: Vlad: Yes. sheep: Satoru: How? Arsé-kun: Vlad: By attacking it and driving it away. sheep: Satoru: ........ sheep: Satoru: I don't want to hurt it, but it's hurting us. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Exactly. Gather everyone. It's best to confront it in a group. sheep: *Satoru goes off to find everyone* Arsé-kun: Mori: *he's trying to unlock a door. with a paperclip. Hm* sheep: Satoru: Hello! Arsé-kun: Mori: Morning. *he turns the paperclip around. try #5* sheep: Satoru: What're you doing? Arsé-kun: Mori: Trying to unlock this blasted door. sheep: Satoru: I didn't know there was a key... Arsé-kun: Mori: There isn't. Back up. sheep: *Satoru backs up* Arsé-kun: *Mori whips out the coffin gun and shoots the doorknob clean off. Much easier now.* sheep: Satoru: Dad said to collect everyone together to kill the Babadook. Arsé-kun: Mori: I'll join him downstairs soon. *he pulls the door open* sheep: Satoru: Okay. Arsé-kun: *Look at all those BOOBS! I mean, serious honkers. Real sets of badonkers. Packin' some dobonhonkeros. Massive dohoonkabhankoloos. Big old tonhongerekoogers.* Arsé-kun: *... All over the walls. I should have specified that.* Arsé-kun: *The walls are quite literally covered in gigantic bonkhonagahoogs.* sheep: *Kintaro is hiding behind Cu Chu, who has his hands over his own eyes* Arsé-kun: Mori: Out, quickly! sheep: *Kintaro and Cu run out* Arsé-kun: *once theyre gone, the room resumes looking normal* sheep: Satoru: ... sheep: Satoru: What was on the wall? Arsé-kun: Mori: Those are referred to as breasts. sheep: Satoru: Like chicken breasts? Arsé-kun: Mori: No. sheep: Satoru: Oh. Arsé-kun: Mori: Moving on! sheep: Satoru: We need to find everyone else still. Mozzy is with Dad. Arsé-kun: Mori: Carmilla is downstairs last I checked. Rider and Lobo I do not know. Guin, I am not sure about either. sheep: Satoru: Let's look for Rider and Lobo then. sheep: Satoru: They're always together so if we call for Lobo he should come with Rider. Arsé-kun: Mori: Good plan. sheep: *Suddenly, there's loud barking!* Arsé-kun: Mori: Found Lobo. Sheepy: Satoru: Let's check on him! *he goes* Arsé-kun: *Mori follows him* Sheepy: *Lobo is in deep trouble!! THERES A VACUUM CLEANER!! it's not on.* Arsé-kun: Mori: .... Sheepy: Lobo: *grrrooowwwlllll* Sheepy: *Rider is in a fetal position in the corner...* Arsé-kun: Mori: Shush, Lobo. *he goes to walk past the vacuum. It makes a fucking watery crashing noise. Mori hurries up.* Sheepy: Lobo: *he hesitantly approaches it...it starts up. Lobo starts whining, creating a huge distance hetween it and himself.* Arsé-kun: Mori: *he sits down next to Rider* Are you all right? Sheepy: Rider: ....... "my face..." Sheepy: Rider: "it...itches... I have no face... how do I see? how do I hear?" Arsé-kun: Mori: ... .... I wouldn't know. Sheepy: Rider: "I have pollen allergies..." Sheepy: Rider: "Every spring I feel it." Arsé-kun: Mori: ... Perhaps Vlad would have an answer? I do not. Sheepy: Rider:....."wheres... vlad?" Arsé-kun: Mori: Dining room. Sheepy: Rider: "I have a headache from Lobo's barking." Sheepy: Satoru: It can't hurt you, see? *he touches the vacuum. Lobo whines gently picks him up by the back of his shirt, moving him away from the vacuum. no.* Sheepy: *Rider stands and heads to the dining room* Arsé-kun: Mori: *he stands back up and crosses the room* Go on, Lobo. Sheepy: Lobo:.......*whine* Sheepy: Lobo: *he slowly turns and leaves with his tail between his legs* Arsé-kun: Mori: *he sighs and grabs the vacuum handle. Just in case* Sheepy: Satoru: Who left the vacuum out anyway? Arsé-kun: Mori: I don't think it's a vacuum. Sheepy: Satoru:...? Arsé-kun: Mori: Considering- *the vacuum makes the watery sound again. Mori flinches, but doesn't let go* that. Sheepy: Satoru: So then, it's the one who...... Sheepy: Satoru: ..... Sheepy: Satoru: Do you think if we talk to it it'll leave? Or will we have to resort to violence? Arsé-kun: Mori: Most likely the latter. Go ask Vlad what to do. I'll hold it. Sheepy: *Satoru goes to the dining room to see Vlad.* Arsé-kun: Vlad: *he's let Mozart go* Welcome back. Sheepy: Satoru: We found the Babadook! What do we do with it? Arsé-kun: Vlad: I live up to my name. Where is it? Sheepy: *Satoru states the room it's in.* Arsé-kun: Vlad: *he picks up his lance and heads off* Sheepy: *Satoru follows* Arsé-kun: Vlad: *he stops in the doorway* Sheepy: Satoru: What's wrong? Arsé-kun: Vlad: That's just not fair at all. Sheepy: Satoru: It's just a vacuum cleaner. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Not anymore it isn't. Sheepy: Satoru: What is it now? Arsé-kun: Vlad: You. James, let go. It's mine. Sheepy: Satoru: ? Arsé-kun: Mori: Take it. *he lets go. He's very unhappy.* Arsé-kun: Vlad: *he glances back down at Satoru, like he needs to make sure Satoru is standing there with him, before throwing his lance across the room at the fake. Direct hit! The boggart screeches and turns into an insect, before escaping to outside* Sheepy: Satoru: Oh, it's gone... Arsé-kun: Vlad: It can easily return. We're not safe until it is dead. Sheepy: Satoru: How do we catch it? Arsé-kun: Vlad: Find it, hit it, repeat until it is dead. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Arsé-kun: Vlad: ... I didn't want to go outside this early, but I suppose we must. Sheepy: Satoru: Will you be okay? Arsé-kun: Vlad: I should be. Sheepy: Satoru: Be careful, though. It can change the appearance of rooms. Arsé-kun: Vlad: It's that strong..? What did it do? Arsé-kun: Mori: *he explains how it turned the room into a collection of humungous hungolomghnonoloughongous* Sheepy: Satoru: They're like chicken breasts except not made of chicken. Sheepy: Satoru: They're made of wall. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Satoru, those are called boobs. I'm not sure why James didn't just tell you that. Sheepy: Satoru: Kintaro said that that's where babies come from. Arsé-kun: Vlad: ... I told him that as a joke. How much more has he told you?? Sheepy: Satoru: He told me that birds are angel dinosaurs and that vampires come from the jurassic times. Sheepy: Satoru: They're scared of the sun because it reminds them of the comet. Arsé-kun: Vlad: I'm so sorry. Sheepy: Satoru:? Arsé-kun: Vlad: None of that is correct. Birds evolved from dinosaurs. Vampires do not come from the jurassic. We tend to be weak to the sun because we are purely nocturnal. Sheepy: Satoru: But... Sheepy: Satoru: You're awake during the day. Arsé-kun: Vlad: I only became a vampire when you summoned me. Carmilla is a far better example. Sheepy: Satoru:? Sheepy: Satoru: Then... Sheepy: Satoru: Was Dracula a lie? Arsé-kun: Vlad: Absolutely, one hundred percent. Arsé-kun: Vlad: At least, in the regards of it being about me. Sheepy: Satoru: Do you hate being a vampire then? Arsé-kun: Vlad: I did. Enough talk. We need to find it before it finds anyone else. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Arsé-kun: *they get Going and go outside. Vlad shields his eyes from the sun* Sheepy: *There's the loud noise of clashing swords and swords hitting armor... * Arsé-kun: Vlad: That's our cue. Sheepy: Satoru: Let's follow the noise! Arsé-kun: *they do so, and come across Guinevere fighting Lancelot! .. A very worn down and broken lancelot* Sheepy: *Guin is fighting defensively exclusive, refusing to strike Lancelot...* Arsé-kun: Vlad: *he rushes in, aiming to impale the fake lance on his... lance. ... english.* Sheepy: Guin: ! Arsé-kun: Vlad: It's not him. *he pulls his lance out and goes to stab the boggart again.* Sheepy: Guin: I'm sorry... it has his face. I can't strike it. Arsé-kun: Vlad: You're not the only one it tried this stunt on. *he kicks the boggart down and goes to decapitate it. It just reforms and speeds away as a shade. bye* Sheepy: Satoru: It ran away again... Arsé-kun: Vlad: I can barely see it.. Sheepy: Satoru: Maybe it'll leave for good this time. Arsé-kun: *a sword is thrown from the neighbor's window with perfect accuracy! the boggart has taken too much damage! it. ... unceremoniously poofs into thin air.* Sheepy: Satoru: *gasp* Where'd it go??? Arsé-kun: Vlad: Away. I'm going back inside. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Arsé-kun: Lance: *he's still watching from the window, frowning* .... Sheepy: Guin: *she looks over* ..Thank you. Arsé-kun: Lance: ... You're welcome. I'd come out, but.. Sheepy: Guin: Huh? Arsé-kun: Lance: There's something I have to do first. Sheepy: Guin: Understandable. Arsé-kun: Lance: *he closes the window and turns away before, just* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRTTHHHUUUURRRR!!! *he is IMMEDIATELY responded to by Herc, yelling even LOUDER. Lance opens the window* Morning alarm. I'll be out in just a minute. Sheepy: Guin: *oh.* Sheepy: Satoru: Aaaarthuuurrrrr??? Arsé-kun: Lance: *he comes out. sweatpants, tanktop, this man isn't ready to be ANYWHERE.* Yeah. Sheepy: Satoru: He's an aardvark! Arsé-kun: Lance: Not that Arthur. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh. Sheepy: Satoru: The Babadook attacked us. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... Eh? Sheepy: Satoru: The thing you killed. Arsé-kun: Lance: Oh, the boggart. Sheepy: Satoru: Uhuh. Sheepy: Satoru: I think it attacked me last night but I don't know. Arsé-kun: Lance: All I know about them is that they shapeshift, and very powerful ones tend to be aggressive. So..... Maybe? Sheepy: Satoru: Where did it come from? Arsé-kun: Lance: *he shrugs* Sheepy: Satoru: I was told that it was very strong because it created a boob room, but... it had to have come from somewhere. Arsé-kun: Lance: it made a what. Sheepy: Satoru: A boob room. Arsé-kun: Lance: ...... *snnrrrrkkk* Sheepy: Satoru: I learned that babies don't come from boobs. Arsé-kun: Lance: *he's trying to hold back a grin. he's failing, miserably* Sheepy: Satoru:? Arsé-kun: Lance: *he laughs. work of art, 10/10, need encore* I'm sorry! That's just so...! Sheepy: Satoru: Kintaro told me that babies come from them Sheepy: Satoru: Kintaro is scared of them. Arsé-kun: Lance: *it's stopped being funny. mostly* Arsé-kun: Lance: ... I get the impression nobody has told you anything about that yet. Sheepy: Satoru: About what? Arsé-kun: Lance: Babies. And I'm not doing it. Arsé-kun: *SO OF COURSE, LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE END UP EXPLAINING WHERE BABIES COME FROM. CONGRATS, SATORU, YOU LEARNED THE THING.* Sheepy: Satoru: Do you have any kids? Arsé-kun: Lance: Nope. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh. Arsé-kun: Lance: While I wouldn't mind it, I doubt that's an option anymore. Sheepy: Satoru: Why? Arsé-kun: Lance: I'm doubting Servants are fertile. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh. Okay. Arsé-kun: Lance: But enough about that. Sheepy: Satoru: ...................... Sheepy: Satoru: Where do people go when they die? Arsé-kun: Lance: Depends who they are. Sheepy: Satoru: Where did you go when you died? Arsé-kun: Lance: A grave, followed by the hall of heroic spirits, I guess. Sheepy: Satoru: ...... Arsé-kun: Lance: As did the rest of us, I suppose. Sheepy: Satoru: Really? Arsé-kun: Lance: Well, it'd make sense. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh. Arsé-kun: *the bracelet lets out a little ring!* Sheepy: *Satoru answers* Arsé-kun: Roman: Good morning! Are you and your Servants ready for your first mission? Sheepy: Satoru: ...Um, we just killed a boggart. Arsé-kun: Roman: Good job! Sheepy: Satoru: I guess, but.... I don't know if everyone is up for it. Arsé-kun: Roman: Of course, of course! Recovering from an unexpected boggart attack can take a while! That comes first. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay... what is the mission, anyway? Arsé-kun: Roman: Busting some skeletons. Y'wanna see? Sheepy: Satoru: Skeletons? Arsé-kun: Roman: *he puts some video feedback on screen. Skeleton warriors* Sheepy: Satoru: ? Arsé-kun: Roman: Skeletons. Sheepy: Satoru: How do we kill something that's dead? Arsé-kun: Roman: Smashing it into pieces. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh. Arsé-kun: Roman: That's why Servants do it. Sheepy: Satoru: I'm not strong enough to. Arsé-kun: Roman: I'd hope not. It'd take superhuman strength to break these with your bare hands! Sheepy: Satoru: Kintaro can make trees fall with ease! Sheepy: Satoru: He also sumo wrestled with a bear once! Sheepy: Satoru: Unless you mean a different type of strength. Sheepy: Satoru: Lobo might like skeletons? Sheepy: Satoru: I don't know, but I could ask him. Arsé-kun: Roman: Both sound good, but is Kintaro feeling well enough to? Sheepy: Satoru: I don't think so, so I'll ask Lobo. Sheepy: *Lobo heard his name. He is here now.* Arsé-kun: *the fluffest of boofers* Sheepy: Lobo: *Bawuuuu?* Sheepy: Lobo: *he seems eager about skeletons...* Arsé-kun: Lance: Eager, are we? Sheepy: Lobo: *boof* Arsé-kun: Lance: ... ... I am not particularly in the mood to come, but I will ask if anyone else wants to. Sheepy: Satoru: What's wrong? Arsé-kun: Lance: ..... I'm not very prepared to go, for one. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay! Sheepy: Satoru: That's fine! Auntie Guin will be happy to stay with you probably! Arsé-kun: Lance: *he nods and turns to look at Guin* Sheepy: Guin: That's fine by me. Was there anything you wanted to do? Arsé-kun: Lance: Not really.. Arsé-kun: Roman: ... I'll, uh, I'll stick this onto your mission tab. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay! Sheepy: Lobo: *he is wagging his tail* Arsé-kun: Lance: .... Lets go see if anyone wants to go with them, I guess. Sheepy: Guin: Good idea. Sheepy: Lobo: *he nudges Lance with his snout, as if insisting on him finding teammates* Arsé-kun: Lance: *he is almost knocked over* I'm going, I'm going...! Sheepy: Lobo: *he wags his tail and sits* Arsé-kun: *lance (and guin?) exit stage right* Sheepy: *guin goes as well, yes* Arsé-kun: Andersen: *he's able to be seen from the living room. he's pouring himself coffee- and standing on a chair to reach the counter. tiny boy.* Sheepy: Guin: Do you need help? Arsé-kun: Andersen: I'm fine as is. Sheepy: Guin: Okay. Sheepy: Guin: Do you want to join Lobo? He's going out to helo Dr.Roman with skeletons. Arsé-kun: Andersen: I've got no time for that. I've got impending deadlines to deal with. Sheepy: Guin: Good luck! Arsé-kun: Andersen: Thank you kindly. *he hops off the chair and exits. the coffee is in a fucking kids sippy cup. nobody wants scalding hot emo everywhere* Sheepy: *Guin doesn't comment.* Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she flits and flaps her wings instead of aCTUALLY USING THE STAIRS* Is something happening? Sheepy: Guin: Do you want to join Lobo? He's doing a job for Dr. Roman - destroying skeletons. Arsé-kun: Eliza: I'd love to! Lemme go ask Boss if I can! *she runs off to do so. she can be faintly heard yelling upstairs* Sheepy: Guin: I'm glad it was easy to find someone to help Lobo out... Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she comes back* Boss said it was okay! Sheepy: Guin: Lobo is outside right now. Sheepy: *Lobo is staring in through the window* Sheepy: *...Rider is with him, but it's difficult to tell if he's staring in through the window as well.* Arsé-kun: Eliza: Is that why the big bad wolf is leering at us through our tiny window? Sheepy: Guin: Yes. Arsé-kun: Eliza: Exciting! Sheepy: Guin: He's waiting for someone to come out to join him. Arsé-kun: Eliza: All right, going! Bye, Miss Guin! See you later, grumpy! *she exits the door and runs up to Lobo* Puppy! Sheepy: Lobo: *boof* Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she reaches up to pet him* You ready to get bones, puppy? Sheepy: *Lobo's tail is wagging. He's excited!* Sheepy: *Rider gets onto Lobo's back* Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she gets into the air, but changes plans and swoops down to Satoru* Boss said I could come with you for dem bones! Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Have fun. Arsé-kun: Eliza: I will! Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she leans over Satoru's shoulder to see the video feed* Oooh! Where is this? Sheepy: Satoru: We aren't supposed to go there because there's monsters. Arsé-kun: Eliza: More than just skeletons? Sheepy: Satoru: Yes. Arsé-kun: Eliza: Exciting! Sheepy: Satoru: Why? Arsé-kun: Eliza: I wanna see what kind of monsters are around here! Sheepy: Satoru: Good luck! Arsé-kun: Eliza: Good luck? Aren't you coming? Sheepy: Satoru: I'm not strong. Sheepy: Satoru: I rarely go out. Arsé-kun: Roman: Then make a change! If you go out and get stronger, you'll be fine, right? Sheepy: Satoru: I don't know. Sheepy: Satoru: I'll do my best. Arsé-kun: Roman: You sure will. Do you want me to keep in touch for now? Sheepy: *Satoru nods* Arsé-kun: Roman: All right, I'll keep the line open. Sheepy: *So the four go to fight skeletons!* Arsé-kun: *well roman isn't physically there but he's in this too* Sheepy: *There's harp music.* Arsé-kun: Eliza: ?? *she considers getting off of Lobo's back* Did people beat us here? Sheepy: Satoru: That or the skeletons can play harps. Arsé-kun: Roman: The only recorded case of that was David. Wait, no, he's just really skinny. Carry on. Sheepy: Lobo: *he follows the music* Sheepy: Lobo: *There's the skeletons! That's all that matters. He doesn't care about the redhead playing the harp.* Arsé-kun: Eliza: Dibs on the one with the sword up in front! *she more or less dives off of Lobo to Engage In Combat* Sheepy: Lobo: *he has picked up one of the skeletons and has started shaking it. the music stops* Arsé-kun: Eliza: Hey, hey! *she pushes the skeleton away and looks back to the harpist* Keep going, bard! Sheepy: Satoru: Dr. Marshmallow, who's that? Sheepy: *The redhead, upon request, returns to playing the harp again. The harp is actually a bow with multiple strings. His harp playing seems to be damaging the skeletons closer to him.* Sheepy: Satoru: Do they work for you? Sheepy: Lobo: *he drops the skeleton that he was practicing disembowling on and then places his paw on the head of another skeleton and smashes its face into the ground* Arsé-kun: Roman: Him? He helps out, yes. He's, uh.. *he takes a second to check the records* That's Sir Tristan. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay, that's good. It didn't seem like he was doing anything, so I was worried that maybe he needed help... Arsé-kun: Roman: He is battling them in his own way. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh. Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she's smacking the skeletons around with her lance and humming. Any more than a hum and it's probably a threat of impending death. I'm kidding* Sheepy: *Lobo is still having fun smacking the skeletons around while Rider is making sure Satoru doesn't fall off of Lobo's back* Arsé-kun: *Because Satoru falling off would be Bad* Sheepy: Satoru: There's a lot of them and it doesn't look like the numbers are thinning any... Arsé-kun: Roman: There's usually a reason for that! There's usually some sort of leader. Sheepy: Satoru: Really? Arsé-kun: Roman: Uh-huh! Sheepy: Satoru: Do you know if the leader is nearby? Arsé-kun: Roman: Uhhh.... Yeah! There's a decently strong magical reading a bit north from where you are now! Sheepy: Satoru: Okay, I guess we should go check that out. Should we ask Sirtristan to come with us? Arsé-kun: Roman: I don't see why not! He's here for the same reason. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Mr. Sirtristan! Dr. Marshmallow says that the one commanding the skeletons is up north. Arsé-kun: *Eliza doesn't input, but she giggles. Something is funny to her. here* Sheepy: Tristan: I see. Lead the way. Sheepy: Satoru: But you have your eyes closed... Arsé-kun: Eliza: He can probably see better than I ca- Oof! *she wasn't watching where SHE was going, and slammed into a lightpole.* Sheepy: Tristan: What is there worth seeing in this planet that cruelly stole my life for committing the crime of loving the wrong woman? Arsé-kun: Eliza: That's so sad! Do you wanna sing about it later? Sheepy: Tristan: It is my song to her that caused my life to end, that caused me to be separated from her. ...Yes, I think that singing about it and releasing the emotional suffering that constricts my heart would ease my pain some. Arsé-kun: Eliza: Okay!! *she's amazed someone even ACCEPTED her offer* Sheepy: Satoru: I can give you a hug. Maybe that would help. Arsé-kun: Eliza: I second that, too!! Sheepy: Tristan: I will consider your offer. Sheepy: Lobo: *he is sniffing at the air* Sheepy: *Eventually they reach the leader.* Arsé-kun: *which is a Daemon. Thankfully a rather basic one, but STILL* Sheepy: Satoru: Big!! Arsé-kun: Eliza: What a brute. Sheepy: Satoru: It doesn't look mean! Maybe it's just lonely! Arsé-kun: Roman: Not really! Sheepy: *Rider tightens his grip on Satoru. No running up to daemons.* Arsé-kun: *Smart Rider.* Sheepy: Satoru: Are you sure? It looks nice... Arsé-kun: Roman: Not one bit! Arsé-kun: Roman: They're nasty little shits! Sheepy: Satoru: Okay... Sheepy: *Tristan is playing his harp again* Arsé-kun: *the daemon has Noticed Them!* Sheepy: *Lobo lunges at it!* Arsé-kun: *the daemon backs the hell up and casts magic! ... It's nowhere near enough to STOP Lobo* Sheepy: *Lobo shakes it off and goes for the jugular* Arsé-kun: *C.... Critical hit?* Sheepy: Lobo: *he picks it up and shakes it* Arsé-kun: *This is Painful, but it doesn't stop the daemon from spotting and aiming a shot at Satoru and Rider* Sheepy: Rider:?! Sheepy: *Rider does his best to shield Satoru, but considering Satoru is in front of him, there isn't much he can do...* Arsé-kun: *Satoru ends up getting pushed into Dog Fur Heck. Leaving Rider to, y'know, take the hit full on* Sheepy: Rider:....!!!! *OW OW OW* Sheepy: Lobo: *This only serves to make Lobo stop treating the Daemon like a toy and start treating it like an actual enemy. He drops it on the ground, places a paw on its chest, and starts pulling on its arm* Sheepy: *Rider also fell off. rest in pepperoni.* Arsé-kun: Eliza: *There's no way she can dive fast enough to catch him, so she goes and joins Lobo in fucking this daemon up* Sheepy: *Satoru is playing dead on Lobo's back.* Arsé-kun: Roman: H-hey! Are you still there? Sheepy: *Satoru lets out a small whine. Guess who's scared? It's this kid!* Arsé-kun: Roman: Are you hurt?! Sheepy: Satoru: Uuh... R-Rider is... Arsé-kun: Roman: ... I feel like I should have actually come with you. Anyone else hurt? Sheepy: Satoru: I... uh, don't know... Arsé-kun: Roman: ... I'll come back over to your place and clean up, okay? Sheepy: Satoru: O-okay.... Sheepy: Rider: *he approaches the Daemon and decapitates it* Sheepy: *Lobo begins gently nudging Rider with his muzzle* Sheepy: Satoru: I think it's dead.... Arsé-kun: Eliza: *she goes to punt its head away* Yep! Sheepy: Satoru: That's good. Sheepy: Satoru: I want to go home. Arsé-kun: Eliza: Yeah, me too. I don't like this place. Sheepy: *They head home. ... Tristan follows at a distance...* Arsé-kun: *what a weirdo.* Sheepy: *He isn't playing his harp either. And his eyes are still closed.* Arsé-kun: *As promised, Roman is waiting for them on the street corner. Which is close enough to the house without it being WEIRD.* Sheepy: *Lobo cautiously approaches Roman* Arsé-kun: Roman: Hello, Lobo. You're not hurt, are you? Sheepy: *Lobo nudges Roman* Arsé-kun: Roman: ? Sheepy: Lobo: *whine* Arsé-kun: Roman: What? What is it? Sheepy: *Lobo sits down and Rider slips off of his back. Satoru has his face buried in Lobo's fur. play dead activate.* Arsé-kun: Roman: Oh! *he goes to check on Rider* Arsé-kun: *While this is happening, Eliza doubles back to Tristan* Arsé-kun: Eliza: Are you lost..? Sheepy: Tristan: There is no "lost". Sheepy: Tristan: Every destination has its own adventure set in store, even if it isn't the intended destination. You never lose something by going to the unintended destination... ... Sheepy: Tristan: ... Yes, I should write that down in my list of "complicated excuses that'll make my conversation partners not ask if I'm currently suffering from a moment of weakness". Arsé-kun: Merlin: *presence concealment EX. because he's just suddenly here.* Tristan! Sheepy: Tristan: Merlin? Arsé-kun: Merlin: It's me! Its you! Sheepy: Tristan: No, I'm not you. Arsé-kun: Merlin: That's not what I meant! Sheepy: Tristan: If I were you, I would not be sad, because I would not have ever landed a cursed relationship like the one I had. Sheepy: Tristan: Not to imply that you're incapable of finding a lover, but rather, I doubt you'd be chased down across the country because you had a lover you were not intended to marry. Sheepy: Tristan: Because you have quite the way with people. Arsé-kun: Merlin: The last girl I tried to be with stuck me in a tree for a good century Sheepy: Bedi: I can't really understand either of you... how do you have such bad luck? Arsé-kun: Merlin: No idea. Sheepy: Bedi: Good evening, Sir Tristan. I'll tell Sir Lancelot that you're here. Arsé-kun: Merlin: That'll be fun to watch. Sheepy: *Bedi leaves to get Lance* Sheepy: Lobo: *he is watching Tristan very closely* Arsé-kun: *as is Elizabeth* Sheepy: Tristan: *discomfort* Sheepy: Tristan: I see, it's wrong to follow people home. Arsé-kun: Lance: Yes, it is. Sheepy: Tristan: Sir Lancelot. It's good to see you. Arsé-kun: Lance: You as well, Sir Tristan. Sheepy: Tristan: How have you been faring? Arsé-kun: Lance: Decently... Yourself? Sheepy: Tristan: As well as I can be. Arsé-kun: Lance: That's.... Good? Sheepy: Tristan: I see you got a dog. Is it difficult to walk? ...Are those bear traps a fashion statement? Arsé-kun: Lance: ... That's not mine. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... Neighbors'. Sheepy: *Lobo nudges Lance with his muzzle* Arsé-kun: Lance: *he is nearly toppled over* ?? Sheepy: Lobo: *he plops down on the ground and stares intently* Arsé-kun: Lance: *questioning grunt noise* Sheepy: *Lobo places his head flat to the ground and stares up at Lance* Arsé-kun: Lance: ??? Sheepy: Tristan: Ah, yes, I forgot to mention that I work with Dr. Roman. This dog appeared and started shaking my target. Unfortunately, it decided to blast his rider and the child on his back as a response. ...Have you ever seen a daemon's head be used for soccer? This is my first time seeing that. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... I have. *he gives a pointed look towards Elizabeth. SHE is still looking at Tristan's harp* ... ... *he finally catches on to Tristan having mentioned a child* ..! Sheepy: Tristan: Have you? I didn't know they showed up around here. Arsé-kun: Eliza: Neither did I! We just moved here! Arsé-kun: *Lance, meanwhile, makes a beeline for Satoru, who is still on Lobo's back* Sheepy: *Whether Satoru is sleeping or playing dead is a mystery. Lobo is watching Lance closely. Gaze.* Arsé-kun: Lance: *how do I handle child? if done badly, guin will have my head. uh.* Arsé-kun: *Lance applies a single hand to Satoru's back. are you alive child* Sheepy: *Satoru looks up at Lance. Oh. It's safe to stop playing dead.* Arsé-kun: Lance: ... ? Sheepy: Satoru: Oh, it's just you... Sheepy: Satoru: I was scared so I just played dead the entire trip home. Arsé-kun: Lance: .... *he kinda just. awkwardly pats Satoru's back before picking him up off of Lobo* Sheepy: Satoru: ...How do you become brave? You're a knight... knights are brave, right? Rider was hurt by the monster because I didn't protect myself. I can't fight my own fights, either... I just play dead because I'm too scared to do anything... but it never works... Arsé-kun: Lance: .... You can be scared and brave at the same time. Sheepy: Satoru: ......? Sheepy: Satoru: Are you scared when you fight? Arsé-kun: Lance: ... I have been. ..I've been in things I was scared to do. What makes you brave is that you do it anyway. Sheepy: Satoru: I'm not scared of much.... but the stuff I'm scared of, I don't feel like I can face... but if one can be brave and scared... Sheepy: Satoru: I should at least try to stand up to him. But he scares me so much. He did this yesterday. *he shows off the bruising from getting messed up yesterday. That does not look fun.* Arsé-kun: Lance: ..!!! Sheepy: Satoru: It's not the first time. I just play dead... last night he stuck around and said that I'm why she's gone... am I that bad? Arsé-kun: Lance: *he shakes his head and utters a low growl. Angry.* Sheepy: Bedivere: *he gently places his Metal Hand of Power on Lance's shoulder* Please don't do anything rash. Sheepy: Satoru: Sorry, I didn't mean to make you angry... Arsé-kun: Lance: ... You didn't, don't worry. Sheepy: Satoru: ...Okay, that's good. ...Next time he comes in, I'll try to stand up for myself, but... I don't want it to escalate further... Arsé-kun: Mozart: If you are able to do that, we'll hear it and be able to assist. *he's here* Sheepy: Satoru: Really? Sheepy: Satoru: I don't know if I can do it... Arsé-kun: Mozart: At minimum, I will hear it. I think you can. Arsé-kun: Lance: Whatever you want. Arsé-kun: Merlin: *he's... pulled out a marker and started doodling on Tristan's face* Sheepy: Bedi: Ah, he isn't reacting... Arsé-kun: Lance: ... How does he do that? Sheepy: Bedi: He walks around with his eyes closed all the time... Arsé-kun: Lance: Not that. Sheepy: Bedi: What? Sheepy: Bedi: Sleep on his feet? I don't know. Arsé-kun: Lance: I would say wizardry, but Merlin isn't that skilled. Sheepy: Bedi: Good point. Arsé-kun: Merlin: I'm right here! Sheepy: Bedi: Please don't take it in an insulting way. Sheepy: Bedi: You're good at other things. Arsé-kun: Merlin: I sure am. Sheepy: Bedi:...But in this field, compared to Sir Tristan, we are like newbies. Arsé-kun: Merlin: Is that even a good thing? Sheepy: Bedi: No. Sheepy: Bedi: But you are good at many bad activities too. Arsé-kun: Merlin: Damn right. Sheepy: Bedi:...Merlin, please, I don't mean anything sexual. Arsé-kun: Lance: ..... I'm going to bring this child back to his house. You two keep, uh, talking about that. Arsé-kun: Merlin: I'VE BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION TO TALK ABOUT IT. Sheepy: Bedi: Merlin, please! Arsé-kun: Roman: *he kinda. slides into view, blocking Merlin* I've finished! Rider's a-okay! Sheepy: Satoru: Really?! Sheepy: *Lobo is wagging his tail excitedly!* Sheepy: Rider:..... Sheepy: *Rider is here.* Arsé-kun: Mozart: You're in one piece. Fantastic. Sheepy: Rider: "Yes." Sheepy: Rider: "As are you." Arsé-kun: Mozart: I'd like to stay that way. Sheepy: Rider: "Unfortunate. I could decapitate you if you wanted." Sheepy: *Lobo licks Roman's face. He's thankful!* Arsé-kun: Mozart: Please don't. Sheepy: Rider: "I won't." Arsé-kun: Mozart: Thank you. Arsé-kun: Mozart: Shall I take- oh. *Satoru has been shoved into his arms* Sheepy: Bedi: Please don't go and rough up his father now that you don't have anything in your hands. Arsé-kun: Mozart: Don't at all. Arsé-kun: Mozart: I've got a non-musical theory I'm working on regarding him. Sheepy: Satoru: What is it? Arsé-kun: Mozart: Though the pitch is the same, there are times where his voice has a wildly different tone to it... It is not an emotional thing, either. Sheepy: Satoru: He acts weird sometimes. Sheepy: Satoru: He was acting weird last night. Arsé-kun: Mozart: Yes, exactly. Sheepy: Satoru: Why does he act like that? Sheepy: Satoru: Is it because he's mad? Arsé-kun: Mozart: Emotionally or mentally? Sheepy: Satoru: Emotionally. Arsé-kun: Mozart: No. Sheepy: Satoru: Huh? sheep: Satoru: Then...? Arsé-kun: Mozart: The latter. Just a theory, though. sheep: Bedi: ...Anyway, all of you don't have much to worry about. We'll inform his mother and she'll deal with the rest. But, even though you're servants, you can still get arrested. ...So, be careful - assault and defending a young one can be a thin line. sheep: Rider: "Unfortunate. Decapitation is not allowed. It's regrettable that a man like him has been blessed with a head, while men like myself lack one." Arsé-kun: Mozart: I'm tempted to lift Vlad's ban for this. Sheepy: Rider: "Is that a good idea?" Arsé-kun: Mozart: No. Sheepy: Rider: "Don't." Arsé-kun: Mozart: I can't. It'd have to be a group decision. Sheepy: Guinevere: I vote no because I don't want Vlad to do anything he'll regret. How are you feeling, Lance? Arsé-kun: Lance: Tired. I'm going back in. Sheepy: Guinevere: Good idea. Don't push yourself. Arsé-kun: *Lance Exits Stage Right* Sheepy: Satoru: Uncle Mozzy, is your hearing back to normal? Sheepy: Satoru: You seemed really scared earlier and I was worried about you. Arsé-kun: Mozart: It is, yes, thank you. I.. Panicked, to be honest. Sheepy: Satoru: It's okay. I understand why you would. Sheepy: Satoru: What's important is that you're okay now. Arsé-kun: Mozart: I am. sheep: Rider: "I'm going in now." Arsé-kun: Mozart: Lets. sheep: *so they go inside* Arsé-kun: *hooray* sheep: Kintaro: Chief is back! Arsé-kun: Vlad: *he looks up from his knitting* Welcome back. sheep: Satoru: Is everyone better from earlier? sheep: *Carmilla is eyeing the yarn...* Arsé-kun: Vlad: It does seem that way, yes. My apologies for not having come with you. sheep: Satoru: Rider was hurt during the fight. You might've gotten hurt too. sheep: Rider: "I'm fine." Arsé-kun: Vlad: Still. I had said that I would go with you. Sheepy: Satoru: Did you want to go? I didn't know, sorry. Arsé-kun: Vlad: I would have liked to, but staying put was more important. Aftermath of the boggart and all. Sheepy: Satoru: I understand. Sheepy: *Carmilla looks over at Vlad and then bats at his yarn ball. yarn, meet floor.* Arsé-kun: Vlad: Why are you like this? Sheepy: Carmilla: Lack of attention. Wanting to mess with you. Every fiber of my being telling me to knock it off. Arsé-kun: Vlad: I see this. Please put the yarn back. I'm going to need that. Sheepy: Carmilla: *She puts the yarn back* Arsé-kun: Vlad: Thank you kindly. Sheepy: Carmilla: Were you scared by the boggart? Arsé-kun: Vlad: Merely unsettled. Sheepy: Carmilla: Just unsettled? Arsé-kun: Vlad: If I'd been afraid, I'd have been unable to harm it. *is he.. proud of himself?* sheep: Carmilla: Uhuh, okay. Arsé-kun: Vlad: What's that supposed to mean?? sheep: Satoru: I don't think it ever visited me. sheep: Carmilla: If you can't face your fears that makes you a coward. Arsé-kun: Vlad: .... Right. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Satoru. About that. sheep: Satoru: Uhuh? Arsé-kun: Mozart: I already suggested it, Vlad. Was there evidence..? Arsé-kun: Vlad: And more. I. I may or may not have bent a rule. sheep: Satoru: What do you mean? Arsé-kun: Vlad: I mean I did not break a set rule, but I almost did. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Some of the set rules were: To not harm Masato, to not mess with him, and to not go through others belongings- Especially his. Correct? Arsé-kun: Vlad: I decided to personally ask him about the events of last night. He has no recollection of any events that transpired. sheep: Satoru: ...Really? Arsé-kun: Vlad: Truly. Sheepy: Satoru: Could his lack of memory of last night be correlated to him acting strangely? Arsé-kun: Vlad: Going by what Wolfgang has noticed, I'm inclined to say yes. Sheepy: Satoru: I can try looking into it online... Arsé-kun: Vlad: If you'd like to. Sheepy: Satoru: Do you have any ideas of what might be going on? Anything can help. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Well, he's clearly not doing these things. Sheepy: Satoru: We have a doctor next door. We could ask him. Sheepy: Satoru: In the book he acts differently sometimes too, but that was from the power of science. Arsé-kun: Vlad: We could.. Sheepy: Satoru: You seem a little hesitant. Sheepy: Satoru: Is now a bad time? Arsé-kun: Vlad: It's nighttime. As a general rule, yes. Yes it is. Sheepy: Satoru: Oh...okay. Sheepy: Satoru: I'll wait for tomorrow then. Arsé-kun: Mozart: I'll volunteer ahead of time to go with you. Sheepy: Satoru: Thank you. Sheepy: Cu: Oi, Mozart, just keep Satoru away from that red archer, alright? Sheepy: Cu: He's bad news. Real bad news. Arsé-kun: Mozart: I dislike that tone in your voice. Noted. Sheepy: Cu: If he picks a fight with me, I swear, I'm shoving my spear so far down his throat that he'll be the first human shish-kabob. Arsé-kun: Vlad: I've already done that. Numerous times. Sheepy: Cu: You don't count! You're Vlad the Impaler! Sheepy: Cu: You're known for being unnecessarily cruel and killing people without reason. Sheepy: Satoru: Vlad wouldn't do that! Sheepy: Satoru:...But... Sheepy: Satoru: You're nice, so you're a good person. Sheepy: Satoru: You wouldn't do that now. You're better than that. Arsé-kun: *Vlad's heart has grown one size. So has his ego.* Sheepy: Satoru: You wouldn't be my dad if you were malicious. You'd just be like Masato, so I'd avoid you. Arsé-kun: Vlad: *CRITICAL HIT!* Arsé-kun: Mozart: Gee, I didn't know Masato impaled people. Arsé-kun: *Mozart gets punched in the shoulder. That's leaving a mark* Sheepy: Satoru:? Sheepy: Satoru: That's not what I meant. Sheepy: Satoru: I meant that Masato is mean and hurts people, while Vlad isn't. Sheepy: Satoru: And that whether or not Vlad hurt people in the past doesn't matter - he doesn't hurt people now. If you base your opinions on people off of their past mistakes instead of who they are now, what's the point of turning a new leaf? Arsé-kun: Mozart: A fair point, I suppose. Sheepy: Kintaro: Does that mean that's accurate, Chief? I know very little about human nature. I had a very very golden childhood in the forest! Arsé-kun: Mozart: I'd believe it. Sheepy: Kintaro: Believe what? Arsé-kun: Mozart: I'd believe what Satoru said as correct. Sheepy: Kintaro: Golden advice! Sheepy: Kintaro: My advice is! Sheepy: Kintaro: Bears are good people! You just need to get to know them better! Arsé-kun: Mozart: Glad to know. I'll become more acquainted with one while it eats me alive and sh- Sheepy: Kintaro: No no no! Arsé-kun: Mozart: No? Sheepy: Kintaro: Bears are good friends! Sheepy: Kintaro: When I was a little one, I sumo wrestled with a bear! He was my playmate! Sheepy: Kintaro: Our friendship was golden!! Arsé-kun: Mozart: *he mutters about something else being golden* Sheepy: Kintaro: Bears! Bears are golden! Sheepy: Kintaro: Chief, let's go camping and meet a bear! Sheepy: Satoru: The outside world scares me and I like my room more. Arsé-kun: Mozart: Count me out. Sheepy: Kintaro: It'll help you come up with music ideas! Sheepy: Cu: Hmmm... sounds fun. Sheepy: Cu: I'm in. Sheepy: Carmilla: I'm not going unless Vlad is going. Arsé-kun: Vlad: I don't know. Arsé-kun: Vlad: While it would be nice, I don't know if I would be able to do so. Sheepy: Carmilla: Because your sun sensitivity. Sheepy: Carmilla: If you wear sunscreen you should be okay! Clearly. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Because there is no human blood in the woods outside of our own. Sheepy: Carmilla: Hmm. Sheepy: Cu: Oi, Master, here's a reason to go camping: You'll get away from Masato. Sheepy: Satoru: *he has a blank stare on his face...* Arsé-kun: Vlad: ... He has a point. Go with Cu and Robin. You cannot be harmed there. Sheepy: Satoru: ...Okay. Sheepy: Satoru: I want to meet a deer. Arsé-kun: Vlad: Plan it tomorrow. It's too late for this. Sheepy: Satoru: Okay. Arsé-kun: *And then everyone goes to bed, unless they don't*