#2) nothing is as bad as blurred lines so why bother ya know?

[cobbbvanth]

to non glee fans: yes, these all actually happened. to glee folks: please tell me your favourite unhinged glee performances in the tags <333

#glee #new directions #polls #i chose not to include other occurrences of will rapping for two reasons #1) there are simply too many. also i unironically enjoy bust a move and gold digger NOT SORRY #2) nothing is as bad as blurred lines so why bother ya know? #**

[kairos-polaris]

Eris (demon's daughter) Chapter 3

A bunch of different perspectives. New questions and some answers.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Tagglist: @liquid-luck-00 @moonlightstar64

Be aware of your own mind. Your consciousness can and will play tricks, so be careful.

Human mind is fluid. Our memories aren't set in stone but in sand. The lines and finer details blur every time we try to remember something important.

Human mind is the most curious thing. The organised chaos of it still fascinates philosophers and scientists. What is our mind if not a cabinet filled with carefully placed memories? We don't know how our mind decides what we should remember or forget, but we know that strong emotions play an important part in that decision.

Humans tend to forget bad things. They don't disappear completely, but stay in the background. This is the reason nostalgia exists and our past may seem better than present.

It didn't happen to Marinette, right? She was sure of it and her nightmares just proved her right. But she forgot the most important rule: don't take everything at the face value.

***

"You did good, my child," Marinette was still tired after avenging her death (killing them was forbidden, but injuring - not) and didn't comprehend praise in her father's words. "I can answer any question. But only one."

Marinette tilted her head in confusion. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but why? I don't think I did anything to deserve this." Ra's lips lifts up in something akin to a smile. Her words meant his plan was working.

"You showed great strength when fighting. I've heard it took them half an hour to take you down. You are my daughter and you can't forget this," Ra's stopped to let his words sink in. "What is your question?"

"Who was my mother?" The predictability of her question almost makes him laugh out loud. He had expected something better from her. Like, "why don't my assailants have the injuries I've inflicted on them?".

"She was an assassin known as Madame Cheng. A formidable opponent and a strong spirit. She died after giving birth to you. It was a hard pregnancy," Ra's can see a flash of guilt in the girl's eyes. 

"Thank you for this information, father. I will treasure it forever."

The girl slowly leaves the room and Ra's congratulates himself on completing the first part of his plan successfully. 

***

Pale moonlight illuminated a bedroom. The room is completely silent save for soft sounds of breathing. Only two people are there, a man and a woman.

The woman lays on a pristine silk, white cloth barely covering her naked body. Hickies and bruises bloom everywhere like colourful flowers. Her midnight black hair barely reaching her shoulders is splattered across a pillow. Her skin seems to be glowing because of the whiteness of the bed linen. Beads of sweat on her toned arms and legs are highlighted by the moonlight.

The man is sitting near her, leaning on a headboard. His skin is several tones darker than the woman's. He also much older than her. There's white hair in his carefully groomed beard. He's physically fit and strong. He's sitting there completely lost in thoughts. New ideas, new strategies, new plans. The demon's head never rests, after all. He thinks how defenceless the woman next to him is and it makes his blood boil. 

His musings are interrupted by a small feather like touch on his hip. The man doesn't look at the woman, just lets down his hand and tangles it in her hair. It doesn't satisfy her so she seductively slowly raises on her hands to meet the man's eyes. Her smile is small and teasing and it makes the man huff in annoyance.

"Was everything to your liking, oh Great One?" her voice is filled with mirth and there's a strange gleam in her eyes that the man can't identify. 

After several minutes of silent stares the man sighs and decides to humour his lover. He moves his hands to her side gripping hard enough to leave bruises. But the woman doesn't seem to mind. Her small sighs hint that she even enjoys that.

"It certainly was, Madame Cheng," his voice drops slightly at the end of the sentence and it makes the woman giggle like a schoolgirl. Seeing her like that made it hard to remember she was one of the most skilled assassins in the world. Only her stature and white webs of scars reminded him of her lifestyle.

"Why wouldn't you use my name, beloved? We've been married for a year and you still use my alias," Madame Cheng is a formidable woman and she doesn't pout. No, sir, you're just seeing things.

"It's a name you've chosen and made for yourself. Your name was given to you by your parents," he stops mid sentence to change their position. Now he was on the top. "And you killed everyone who knew it to ensure nobody will ever know it. Only people you trust can use it."

"Marriage is supposed to be a sign of trust. I met you almost twelve years ago. I trust you not to kill me every night we spend together. I know you can kill me without any weapon and I know you always have a dagger with you. I… I like my name and would like you to use it. Please."

There's a dangerous gleam in the man's eyes and she needs several moments to stop shivering. That's what she gets for forgetting who her lover is but it was so easy. "I will use your name after you give birth to a boy."

His words leave a bad aftertaste in her mouth and even the man's hard kisses can't erase it. "It won't last. His gentleness won't last." Marrying the Demon's head may be her fall but she will mourn herself later. Now, she's losing herself in lust and please. She tries to not think that some parts of her won't return.

***

Talia remembers Madame Cheng clearly. She always admired the woman who became a mother figure to her.

Madame Cheng was more intelligent than most people gave her credit for and she knew Ra's al Ghul better than she let on. Talia compared her to an actress because she acted so different in front of her husband. Only in the privacy of Talia's room did she let down her walls. It made Talia feel special.

Madame Cheng was smart and she knew what kind of man Ra's al Ghul was and what he wanted from her, so she acted accordingly. She could read his mood perfectly. She gave him what he wanted because her survival and well being depended on it.

That's why Madame Cheng was preparing for the worst after she found out that she had given birth to a girl.

"But you can have more children!" Talia tried to argue. The woman laughed bitterly and shook her head. Her laugh slowly morphed into tears.

Talia didn't know what to make of her reaction. Sure, father wasn't satisfied when he heard that Madame Cheng had given birth to a girl, but he loved her. He would give her another chance, right?

"Childbirth was hard for me. I didn't get help fast enough and there were...some consequences. I can't have children anymore," she patiently explained.

"What are you preparing for?" Talia asked, feeling tears in her eyes. "He won't kill you! He loves you."

Madame Cheng sighed and took a breath to calm down. She got down on her knees and looked straight into Talia's eyes.

"Your father, my husband doesn't love me and...never did. It took me some time to understand that, ya amar. I was too naïve and blinded with his affectionate words. I thought I was special," Madame Cheng chuckled at that thought.

"Was it a marriage of convenience to him then?" Talia didn't know how to feel about this. On one hand, she knew that their union was beneficial to the League. Their child would be strong and healthy, a perfect heir. Everything would be perfect. It would be if Madame Cheng gave birth to a boy. And that was what made everything so confusing. Talia loved and adored Madame Cheng and she didn't know what she would when the woman died.

"Yes," the answer is barely a whisper but still so loud in the complete silence of the room.

"So you are just giving up?" Anger was swirling in her veins and Talia couldn't, didn't know how to get rid of it. "We can fake your death, create a false identity. There must be a way!"

Madame Cheng just shook her head and embraced the girl as tight as she could without hurting her. "Ra's will do everything to find me. He won't be satisfied until he sees my corpse," Madame Cheng noticed Talia's questioning look and continued: "He knows we're close and he doesn't want a stray element influencing his heir."

"What can I do for you?" Talia whispered brokenly.

"Talia, look at me. Talia, please, look at me," when the teen didn't move to meet her eyes Madame Cheng softly turned her head. "I know you're sad and angry but turning away from me isn't a solution. You won't get any closure if you continue avoiding confronting your feelings. They will always stay with you like invisible baggage."

"Would he really kill you because you can't give him an heir?" Talia knew she was grasping at straws but she couldn't stop. 

"He refused to call me by my name until I gave birth to a boy. I should have known how little I mean to him. And I won't be useful for a very long time. And the League doesn't condone and," she explained. "Can you promise me something?"

"Everything!"

"There's no need for that, ya amar. Promise to me you will be safe. Promise to me you will protect Marinette and yourself. Promise to be a better person and mother than your father or me. Promise me you will leave one day. Promise me you will be happy. And that's all I want."

"I promise, I promise, Madame Cheng," and in that vulnerable moment for both of them Talia never felt more confident in something. It was time to make an escape plan. 

Almost a year after that conversation Madame Cheng was sent to Bialiya. The mission should have been easy to a professional like Madame Cheng. And it would be if the woman were healthier. 

It didn't matter how much Talia begged her father to resurrect Madame Cheng. He didn't even bother to find her body for a proper burial!

Talia wanted nothing more than to cry in her bedroom for days straight. And why wouldn't she? The only person who had genuinely cared for her was dead. Unfortunately, mourning Madame Cheng so openly wasn't on option. First of all, she would show her weakness. And secondly, she had a sixteen months old Marinette. The baby couldn't even cry to mourn her own mother. She simply didn't understand what had happened to her.

That day Talia promised to herself dhe would teach Marinette everything Madame Cheng had taught her. She would never come close Madame Cheng but the baby deserved some love. Even if only from her older sister.

***

Emilie Agreste was a strong and independent woman. She didn't need her husband to approve her choices. If she wanted to spend time with Amira, she would do exactly that, Gabriel!

"She was sent to kill me, Emilie. She's an assassin. Butterfly is the only reason I am alive. You can't let your guard down. She will use your kind heart for her own gain," Gabriel explained his point of view.

"She. Is. A. Child! A child that doesn't know anything better. It wasn't her choice. I'm sure her parents did that for her," Emilie's heart bled every time she thought about the amount of trainings the girl had to go through. "And you can't stop me. I will go to her right now!"

Emilie turned away, her dress flaring dramatically after her. She grabbed the door handle, but the doors didn't open. Emilie could feel how she was and could hear Gabriel's exasperated sigh. "Oh great, because pushing doors you have to push to open is very dramatic," Emilie softly murmured to herself.

After capturing Amira they left her in an old bedroom. Gabriel made sure she couldn't open windows without alerting them and activating security before leaving her alone.

Emilie thought that the room was beautiful but wasn't sure Amira had the same opinion on it.

When she arrived Amira was laying on the bed, completely free from bounds. The girl looked bored but Emilie could see how tense she was.

"How are you, Amira? I came here to help you," now the girl was suspicious. Her tenseness was more obvious and Emilie silently berated herself for such poor choice of words.

"I know it wasn't your choice to become an assassin. I want to give you a little bit of love, Amira."

When the silence became too much to bear Emilie decided to continue talking. Even if it meant talking to herself. She told Amira stories about her family and how much she loved them. How Gabriel could be so annoying! And how talented Adrien was.

Amira slowly leaned away and laid on the bed. "Are you tired?" asked her Emilie but the girl just nodded. "I will let you have some rest."

The girl just silently hugged her. Emilie counted it as a victory. She slowly left the room activating security once again. 

"Did you check your pockets?" Gabriel's voice made her jump from surprise. Emilie nodded in denial and silently checked her pockets. Nothing was missing, except...for her phone. "Judging from your face that girl has stolen your phone."

Emilie felt so heartbroken she couldn't answer. It must have shown on her face because Gabriel softened. "I will go and take back your phone, love. After that I'll make you a cup of tea."

Emilie didn't notice anything. She didn't notice when her husband returned with her phone. She couldn't recall how they had ended up in their kitchen. Emilie couldn't remember how she had got a cup of tea.

"I don't blame her," she whispered so softly that Gabriel wasn't sure he had heard hee right. "I don't blame her for trying to escape. She doesn't know us. Why would she want to stay here?"

Gabriel just resignedly sighed. His wife was being too kind to that brat. He decided to not comment but his silence made Emilie more confident.

"Yes, I won't give up on her. I will do everything to deserve her trust," Gabriel could see fire in his wife's eyes. The very one he fell for years ago. Only now it wasn't directed at him but the brat that tried to kill him. It made him older and wearier. 

"I know you will get through her shell," Gabriel didn't believe in that. He knew the girl would attack Emilie if she hadn't seen his butterfly. He knew she knew what he had wanted to say.

***

Talia knew she was a bad older sister. A good sister wouldn't sit idly and drink tea while her little sibling was suffering! And Talia couldn't even do anything to help her (she checked three times before giving up).

"Why would you do that? Why?" Talia asked herself. "Was I not…"

But then she clearly heard Madame Cheng's voice in her head: "We both want her to be happy. You have to be honest with yourself. Are you angry because she left or are you hurt because she didn't take you with her?"

No matter how much she tried Talia couldn't answer that question. If she did, it would open a can of worms. She would have to answer more questions. Who did she love more? Her father or her sister? What did she value more?

But it didn't matter right now. Talia will be there for Marinette. She will protect her baby sister.

***

Sometimes Emilie Agreste was a mystery even to her own son. Nobody explained to him why she had spent so much time in one of the bedrooms. Adrien didn't know why she was so sad after she had stopped visiting that room. 

Every answer he got was too vague. "I'm mourning missed opportunities, my heart."

Adrien tried to not think that it was about a girl he had seen once in family's gardens. Her appearance blurred in his mind with time but he could remember midnight black hair and sky blue eyes. Adrien could admit she was pretty but he hated the fact that his parents refused to tell him anything about her. 

After Adrien understood that his questioning wouldn't give him any answers he decided to move on. It was quite easy. His mother disappeared not so long after his decision to stop pestering them about the girl in the garden. His father closed himself in his office and Adrien had to make an appointment to see him.

Adrien didn't understand why meeting Eris had brought back memories about the garden girl. 

"Why are you calling yourself Eris?" Adrien blurted out. In his defense it wasn't every day that he met superheroes.

"Eris is a greek goddess of discord. I wield the Miraculous of Destruction. I thought it was a fitting name," Eris sighed and tiredly rubbed her forehead. "One day I will make an official statement regarding my alias. Everyone asking why like they are banned from Google. Annoying."

"I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't know what to say," Adrien was really sorry. He knew how annoying it was to repeat things. He wanted to ask her about being a hero. He would ask "how does it feel to fly in the sky" and "how does it feel to be free". But Adrien is a perfect boy and perfect boys don't ask such questions. His words about freedom could be used against Gabriel. 

#maribat #future dickinette #angst #i love hurting characters #referenced character death #eris (the demon's daughter)

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Patchwork: Avengers x gn!Reader

S.S: Hey! Ive been pumping out stories today so I hope whoever reads them are enjoing them! Im not sure how I feel about this one... it was kind of just thrown together so please let me know what you think about it!!

The only refernce that may not be GN is Bucky’s nickname ‘Doll’, hope thats ok!

Warnings: blood, mentions of surgery, wounds, passing out.... idk what else... 

Word Count: 1849

MASTERLIST

============================================

I stumbled into the opened gate of the quinjet, falling to the ground, rolling over just in time to put a bullet through the head of the last Hydra agent that had been chasing me through the foliage.

“Jarvis, close the gate.” I command, letting my head fall back against the metal flooring. The ache and exhaustion taking over.

“Gate is closed Miss. Should I pilot home?” 

“Just give me a second and I'll be up to the seat. Gotta catch my breath.” I closed my eyes trying to keep my head from spinning, taking in deep breaths.

After a few minutes I moved to sit up only to feel a sharp pain shoot through my middle. I thud back down, my hand moved to the affected area feeling the sticky substance that coated my suit around the open gash traveling from my stomach to my ribcage.

“Oh ya, some bastard tried to filet me. Forgot about that.” My head lulled back, realizing that I’d have to do some patch work on the ride home just so I didn't lose more blood than I already had. “Hey Jarvis, can you take the wheel and get to the compound asap.”

“Of course.” With that the quinjet roared to life and jerked into motion.

I carefully rolled over, using my elbows to prop me up as I moved slower than a sloth to my feet. Managing to use the walls of the jet for support I made my way to the medical cabinets, taking out one of the various first aid kits, hydrogen peroxide and a few towels. I opened the cherry red box pulling out the sterile packaging containing a needle with medical thread connected to it and plenty of gauze and bandages. I grabbed the pair of scissors carefully gliding them through the fabric of my suit to get to the gash.

I grabbed the bottle of peroxide and haphazardly poured it over the gash soaking my skin. The stinging sensation was overwhelming, causing me to stop and lean against the table to regain some stability. The blood mixed with the hydrogen peroxide as it bubbled with in the wound, stinging sensations tickling the area.

“Alright, uh, if I pass out call Tony or set off the sprinkler or something.”

“The quinn jet doesn't have sprinklers.”

“Well damn. Nevermind then.” I look down at the sterile needle and thread that were encased in the package. “Here goes nothing.”

Getting stitches was never a problem for me. It didn't bother me at all, however I have never given myself stitches nor done it without any numbing medication. My heart was racing and the cut throbbed with each shaking breath I took.

“I suggest you sit on the medical table so that if you faint, you'll have less chance you'll injure yourself more.” Jarvis' voice breaks through my nervousness.

“That's probably a good idea.” I nodded taking a deep breath as I hopped onto the table. My shaking hands moved back to their previous position and pierced through the tender skin. 

“Urhg! Son of a bitch!” I cursed, letting out a guttural cry, tears stinging my eyes. I pierced through the other side of the wound letting out the same guttural cry as I tied and pulled the stitch tight. I continued with another two stitches before Jarvis interrupted my panicked concentration. 

“Mr. Stark and few of the Avengers are wishing to be patched through.” the A.I.’s voice broke through the overwhelming pain coming over my senses.

“Seriously right now?” I sniffed looking to the ceiling of the jet, holding the curved needle as still as possible, each movement tugging at the skin I had just pulled through. “Fine patch them through.”

“Hey Kiddo! Saw you were heading back. How’d things go?” Tony’s voice asked through the sound systems of the jet.

“Oh  you know…. Fine.” I replied hesitantly as I positioned the needle to pull another stitch through. I bite my cheek trying to keep down the pained yelp as I pull the needle through.

“Glad to hear it! I assume you got all the files and information needed.” Steve inquired.

“Ya, ya got it all.” I could tell that my voice was shaky as I began to pull another stitch through. I let out a shaky breath as I tied the knot, taking a moment to regain my fading consciousness.

“You gonna need any medical care when you get home?” Bruce questioned.

“Uhm, ya, ya probably.” I replied pulling another stitch through, letting out a small pained cry as it tugged at the sensitive skin.

“How bad is it?” Bucky’s baritone voice reverberated against the jet walls.

“I’ve got no clue what you're talking about.”

“Y/N.” Bucky’s voice was stern, a no-no-joke- voice. “Tell the truth. How bad is it?”

“Uh Jarvis?” I asked, pulling another stitch through the skin, biting my lip to hold in the cry.

“Agent L/N has sustained a few minor injuries, however, managed to be on the receiving end of a knife. They enduring a severe cut along her abdomen reaching from their navel to the bottom two ribs. No internal damage, however the wound is bleeding profusely.” Jarvis read off my injuries.

“Why wasnt that the first thing out of your mouth?” Tony yelled, concern laced in his voice.

“Cause I’m doing my best to take care of it right now.” I replied, allowing the pain of pulling the thread through the skin resonate in my voice.

“And how are you managing that?” Steve asked in his serious Captain tone.

“I’m stitching myself up.” I replied meekly “You know we should really put some morphine into these first aid kits.”

“You’re stitching yourself up?!” Bruce exclaimed “Just put pressure on your wound, stop the bleeding. We’ll stitch you up properly here!”

“Yes sir.” I replied by pulling another stitch through, moving a little faster, eliciting more pain. I let out another guttural cry.

“Jarvis, how far out are you?” Tony asked quickly.

“20 minutes sir.”

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, obviously concerned.

“Peachy Keen” I snap trying to take a few deep breaths keeping my head from spinning. Closing my eyes had little to no effect in calming my spinning vision. “So uhm there is a slight chance someone will be picking me up from the floor when I get in.” I stated hoping that one of the Avengers heard.

“Do your best to stay awake. We don't want to risk anything.” Bruce pleaded.

“I'll try doc but right now it's not looking too good.” 

I continued to pull a few more stitches through, despite the protest from Bruce earlier. The pain rushing through my body, causing each and every sore area more pain.

“Jarvis, please tell me we’re close. I can't do any more.” I asked tiredly, the pain overwhelming my senses and darkness playing along my line of vision.

“Landing in 2 minutes.”

“Thank god.” I said moving from the table and standing, using the edge to balance as I waiver in my step. The wave of dizziness hit harder and the lightheadedness took over. My knees buckled as I held myself up against the metal table. The jerk of the jet landing caused me to stumble slightly and bump into the table, sending a wave of pain through my system.

Bucky and Steve were the ones to enter the craft quickly. Bucky was the first to get to me, Steve looking over his shoulder watching me. 

“Jeez Doll. You really got banged up.” His words were incoherent as I started to drift out of consciousness.

“Mhmmm.” I murmured, too tired to talk. My eyes closed for a millisecond.

“Hey stay awake. I know you're tired but you gotta stay awake.” Bucky squeezed his arm around me coaxing me awake.

“Sorry.” I mumbled “You're just so comfortable. And Hot. Im freezing”

“It's because you lost so much blood. And because of that I need you to stay awake so we can avoid you going into a coma.” He insisted as he pushed through the lab doors.

I felt the cool metal of another examination table underneath me and the lack of heat caused me to shudder. Tony’s blurry face came into my vision as he looked over me.

“You should really work on your stitch work.” He joked.

“Sorry, was too busy trying not to pass out in between pulling the needle through my skin.” I said back, trying to be more joking then a snapback.

“Fair enough. But I hate to break it to you that we're gonna have to take them out and redo them.”

“I figured. But can you hurry up. I'm starting to see the darkness and the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Don't go towards that. Its a lie.” He retorted as he moved into action, Bruce following in his footsteps.

The pressure of a IV being placed into my arm turned my attention to Bruce standing next to me, a grim look across his features. A bag of blood hung above me as it traveled through the tube into my veins.

The slight tug at my skin around the wound made my attention wander to see Tony cutting away the stitches that I had previously done. The sight made me nauseous and I turned my vision to the ceiling, focusing on the speckled design of the tiles. My vision blurring in and out, the noise of voices were muffled as tears slid down my face.

A cooling feeling drifted over my wound. I looked down to see perfect stitches and Tony spraying a white substance over the gash.

“What’s that?” I asked, my voice cracking as I watched the foam soak into my skin.

“It's a multipurpose antibiotic.” Bruce began.

“It’ll decrease infection and inflammation and increase healing!” Tony exclaimed, clearly proud about the invention. I just nodded my head as all the words jumbled together into an incoherent sentence.

“I think you're out of the red zone, so if you want to sleep you can. We’ll keep and eye on you.” Bruce spoke quietly.

“Can I be moved to a different bed, this one hurts.” I whispered as my eyelids feel weighed down.

“Ya, ya we can do that.” Bruce smiled gently. “Bucky do you mind carrying her into a different room?”

  I saw Bucky nod curtly and he gently slid his hands under my back and knees, picking me up from the metal table. Bruce followed close behind with the IV stand holding blood and medications.

Bucky gently placed me onto one of the sterile beds of the medbay, tucking a warm blanket around my chilled body. Bruce situated all the machines before leaving the room. Bucky had his hand intertwined with mine as I drifted to sleep, moving his thumb in a rhythmic pattern over my knuckles.

“Thank you Buck.” I whispered as I drifted off.

“Not a problem doll. Get some sleep, you deserve it.” with that I gave him a small smile as I dozed off to sleep.

===========================================

S.S: As always let me know what you think!! Thanks for reading!!

#marvel #the avengers #reader insert #stever rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #jarvis #tony stark #iron man #bruce banner #hulk #graphic #angst #fluff #avengers

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Winged Arthur AU (part 13)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 , Part 12

Note: Backing up a bit with a Lewis POV 

.

“I’m telling the truth!” Lewis reaches towards Vivi like he’ll be able to physically close the distance between them. He tries stamping down his flames, which are leaping about, mirroring his emotional distress. Maybe, if he looks human, she’ll be more sympathetic.

“Please.” All he needs is a chance to explain and make her understand that the Arthur she is protecting isn’t the person she thinks he is.

Her expression hardens into a glare. The front door to Kingsman Mechanics’ is slammed which such force that it rattles the frame. For a long moment, all Lewis can do is stand, stunned, with his arm outstretched. Flames run down its length, eating away at the human illusion, leaving black cloth and a skeletal vestige behind. Slowly, he clenches his hand into a fist, which alights a bright purple, letting off a frustrated yell. A column of fire shoots up into the air.

Conflicted, Lewis tries to follow Vivi but, as soon as he steps in close to the building, he is stopped by some unseen barrier. It smothers his flames and saps him of energy, leaving him weirdly exhausted. Accompanying this process is a sense that he is very unwelcome and should leave right now. A ward of some sort? Lewis has come across a few in his brief time as a ghost, and trying to force his way through had never ended well.

Upset, he steps back to stare longingly at the door. Around him, flames creep out over the ground, feeding on his frustration. The fire is halted by the same barrier. Why? Vivi acted like he was a monster. He’s not…Lewis glances around and realises he’s set the whole front driveway, and all the scattered debris, alight. Shame creeps up on him, settling in alongside the anger. It’s not the first time he’s lost control since awakening.

It is a deliberate effort, but he manages to cut his emotions off from the flames, leaving them to wither and die without fuel. Luckily, they don’t ‘burn’ inanimate objects, meaning the driveway is unscathed. The same protection is not extended to other living creatures. Lewis grimaces. He has almost burnt Vivi several times now. That wasn’t counting him running her off the road. Lewis glances over at Arthur’s van which is a twisted mess of steel. She could have died. 

What’s wrong with him?

Lewis circles the workshop, attempting to find an alternative entrance. He needs to explain himself. He needs Vivi to understand and remember who he is. Once she knew the context for his death and Arthur’s true nature, she’d understand…right?

“…I have is this feeling that I know him, the ghost that is, from somewhere...” 

The sound of Vivi’s voice drifts through one of the glassless windows. Lewis inches as close to the window as he dares, trying to see in. The barrier doesn’t let him get near enough for a good view, forcing him to crouch and listen instead.

“…Did we meet on a case or something?”

“Not quite….” Lance answers, voice less angry now he’s not aiming a gun at Lewis. The is no sound of Arthur, meaning the traitor is either not in the room or still unconscious.

“Yeh know that thing… The thing Arthur’s been searchin for this last few years.”

“Yeah…of course I do. I mean I should, I’ve been here for most of it.” Vivi responds, then pauses before adding, “Lewis is connected to my memory loss, isn’t he?”

It makes Lewis’s heart ache, to hear Vivi talk as if he is a stranger who’s motives needed to be dissected like he’s one of her mysteries.

“That thing… not really a thing at all. More of a person. A person who went missing the night yeh lost ya memories and Arthur lost his arm.”

“…and this person is Lewis,” Vivi finishes to which Lewis frowns.

“That’s the name.”

The are several seconds of long silence while Lewis waits anxiously for Vivi and Lance to continue talking. Why would Arthur search for him after murdering him? It would explain why no one came looking for him. Lewis had always suspected that something might have gone wrong when no one came to collect his body.

“That ghost…the one outside…is he the same Lewis?”

Yes! He is Lewis. He came back.

“No idea.”

Vivi continues, her tone sharp and angry, making Lewis wince. “Because he was pretty intent on hurting Arthur. Why would Arthur want to find someone who’d want to hurt him?”

“The three of ya were close friends for years. Did everything together. Don’t know nothin about wraiths, but if it wants ta hurt Arthur, then it’s not the Lewis Arthur is searching for.”

“Surely, I would remember someone that important? Or Arthur would have mentioned him.”

“The kid tried,” Lance answers, “Multiple times. Whatever got the memories, it targeted Lewis and stopped yeh from retainin any info about him.”

It was a ruse? It had to be a ruse. Arthur must be putting on the appearance of trying to find him to cover up his murder. Though, if Vivi ready had forgotten everything about him, like this conversation implied, then what would be the point of a that? Lewis massages the floating heart at his chest, trying to relieve some of the tension. If Vivi had been Arthur’s goal, then why bother to search for him? Unless Arthur is telling the truth about not remembering.

“I knew it.” Vivi comments, “There is a connection between all the missing memories. It’s not random. No wonder Arthur always got upset when I asked questions.”

If Arthur hadn’t been the one to erase him from Vivi’s memories then who? Why? Hadn’t he suffered enough? Wasn’t dying enough torture?

“…But I remember now. Well, I recognised the name at any rate…so that’s something. A wraith is an embodiment of anger and pain. When a person dies, and the circumstances surrounding the death are traumatic enough, their negative emotions trap them between here and wherever souls go. That’s what the books say.”

Lewis doesn’t want to listen anymore. He can’t bear to hear Vivi talk like he’s a monster. And yet he feels he can’t move. Not yet.

“You said Lewis disappeared the night Arthur…When Arthur lost his arm. What if, whatever happened back then, it killed this person…Lewis. I mean, we already know the event was bad enough to give us both blackouts, and god knows Arthur gets enough nightmares from the incident. Maybe it was bad enough to create a wraith. Of course, that still doesn’t explain why it wants to hurt Arthur. If you are right about us being friends and stuff, it shouldn’t be targeting us.”

“The Lewis I remember wouldn’t have hurt either of yeh…” Lance grunts. 

Lewis stumbles upright, wrenching himself away from the window. The fire is back, more subdued now it is fuelled by pain as opposed to anger. Instead of bright purple, the flames are dark, almost black. This is all wrong. This isn't how his revenge is supposed to play out. With Arthur not remembering his death and Vivi not remembering him at all. 

Hastily, Lewis makes his way to the opposite side of the crashed semi-trailer, so he has a view of the Tempo desert. It is empty, a flat plane of nothing stretching to the horizon. The perfect target for a long stream of fire which shoots out in a line. Lewis lets it grow and feed off his unstable emotions.

‘A wraith is an embodiment of anger and pain.’ During his time alive, Lewis had skimmed many of Vivi’s books on the supernatural. Hard not to when she carried them around everywhere. A wraith was a malevolent spirit that brought indiscriminate death and destruction on those around it. Described as evil, uncaring, unthinking, they thrived off the pain of their victims.

Lewis never planned on killing Arthur. All he wanted to do was force out the truth and get some closure. Maybe, scare the shit out of him in the process. Yet, in that moment, as he was chasing Arthur down, he hadn’t cared. Then he had thrown Arthur off the cliff, mimicking his own death. It hadn’t been satisfying. In fact, he had felt pretty bad afterwards. Really bad. Like he’d made a huge mistake.

He'd killed Arthur and regretted it. Or, he thought he had killed him…Arthur wasn’t dead after all.

Lewis summons his smaller companions, affectionately named Deadbeats. They are all a little shaken from having one of their compatriots severely injured by Vivi, so only two, the bolder of the bunch, answer his call.

“What’s wrong with me?” He asks. 

The two Deadbeats glance at each other, bobbing up and down, which is pretty much their standard response to most questions. Deadbeats were little more than a manifestation of his fire, made semi-sentient through bonding with weaker wisps and spirits. He still takes solace in their reaffirmation.

Letting his fire simmer down, Lewis recalls his memory of the cave…of Arthur pushing him and smiling. The single, blurred, frame of memory is all he has from that night.  He compares it to memories from his life before, which are equally hazy. Like half-forgotten dreams.

“I’m still Lewis.” He is just angrier. Rightfully angry. He’d been murdered! Anyone would be angry about that. Though, re-evaluating his motivation, the anger, while still destructive, is more directionless now. For the first time since dying, he doesn’t know what he wants.

Lewis is unsure how long he stands there, stewing in a mix of anger, confusion, pain and regret, but it must have been a while because the sun starts to lighten the sky. He is about to return to Kingsman Mechanics and maybe try and sort something out with Vivi and confront Arthur again when a strip of white appears on the horizon. The longer he watches it, the thicker the white band grows, heading in his direction. A wave of white, speeding across the desert. The ground under him shakes, and Lewis floats a few feet into the air, eyeing it with apprehension. It is a good thing he does because, without warning, several trees sprout from the dirt and rocket upward. With white bark and twisted limbs, the trees curl toward the sky, forcing him to dodge to avoid them.

Confused, Lewis stares at the forest growing around him.

.

Note: Kudos to an answrs who guessed the eavesdropping plot point back around part 9 XD. hope this lived up to any expectations. 

#mystery skulls animated #MSA #fanfiction #fanfic #Lewis pepper #Vivi Yukino #WINGS! #winged-arthur #descriptions of violence #lewis re-evaluates his reason for existing #angst #all the angst

[monst]

T’is the season Day 31

Last TDS fic how ya feel?? Happy New years guys ^.^ let’s have some more fun next year yeah?

All Might, Midnight, Nezu, Stain, AFO, Best Jeanist! (In order so ya can skippies the ones u no likeies)

Warnings: Dark Chocolate, Death mentioning? Or mentions of impending death? Also I don’t know about ya but I found Stain to be so hot o////o Oh and Best Jeanist spoiler. (Also AFO & Stain make more sense if you’ve read Day 25 pt1 AFO)

All Might! (Toshinori Yagi)

               No one could get in touch with him. It was as if he was avoiding everyone. Well avoiding you. He had been ever since he had used up the last of his power in the fight with All for One. You knew because he’d do everything in his power to try to get out of the area you were in quickly, his responses to you were short and curt. And, in all honesty it as beginning to hurt you. You didn’t confront him wanting him to speak to you out of his own free will but, it was almost a new year. You didn’t want to start it off without him. So, you confronted him….

               “Toshi! Wait.” You had blocked him off and even though he could easily move out of the way he choose to listen. “I think I know why you’ve been avoiding me…. And, I want you to stop. Please stop avoiding me, it’s hurting me a lot more than what you think.”

               “I-It’s better this way (Name)” He sighed. “At least this way when it does happen you won’t feel the sting so much.”

               “You idiot!” You shouted. Reaching up to yank his shirt to pull him down to your height. Tears welled in you eyes as you glared at him. “I want to be with you. Why don’t you get that? Even if you don’t have much time here... I want to spend your last moments together. I don’t want our last words to be a ‘See you tomorrow at work (Name)’! I want to make more memories with you before that. S-so please Toshi Please j-just-“An ugly sob racked through your body and the tall man wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you. With your face buried in his chest you wailed freely. When you pulled away your eyes were puffy, and you sounded a bit nasally. “I-I just want to spend the n-new years with you and p-pray that you’ll get to see m-most of it. W-with me if y-you’d like.”

               He gave you a melancholic smile and with a nod he spoke: “I’m sorry for thinking ignoring you would hurt less. Let’s spend the rest of the time I have left together. And, whatever this new year is going to bring, I’ll be happy to share it with you. The laughs the tears all of it. And, when I do go It’s with good memories. No more ignoring let’s walk until the road ends...”

 Midnight (Nemuri Kayama)

               “Got any plans?” It was those words that had brought you to where you were now. Nemuri had asked you that the day before the end of the year and, you had replied in earnest. You had no plans and she was eager to invite you to a party. And, not one of those faculty ‘End of the year bash’ parties that Nezu threw. So, there you were your closet’s best framing your form and a cute smile on your lips.

               “That guy is totally checking you out.” You heard the erotic hero say. Your smile fell. The last thing you wanted was to end up in the arms of a stranger drunk off your ass. You didn’t not want to wake up on the first with a roaring hangover in a dingy motel bed. ‘No thank you’ you thought looking back at Nemuri.

“Well that’s to bad he’s gonna have to look elsewhere because I’m staying right here with you!” You chirped. “Besides we said we’d do the countdown together.”

Much to your disappointment he came over. You groaned and looked to Midnight as he stood beside you. His ratchet breath tickled your nose and you cringed at what he said. It was the grossest most slurred pick up line you had ever had the misfortune of hearing.

“Soo pretty thang whaddya say~” You scrunched up your face in disgust. And before his hand could touch you Nemuri slapped it away.

“I think you should go your making my girlfriend very uncomfortable.” Her tone serious as she spoke.

“Girlfriend ha!-“ before he could finish Nemuri stood up her eyes slits.

“Are you sure you want to finish what you were going to say? Because I can’t guarantee that you’ll have teeth afterwards.” She threatened. You looked away, You thought she looked hot when she was mad. However, you brought your attention back to them when he went to hit your girl. But, as a pro hero Nemuri was able to knock him out effortlessly with her quirk. You both looked to each other then to the man on the ground.

“He got drunk and passed out.” You interjected.

“He got drunk and passed out.” She agreed, laughing as she sat back up on the bar stool. She slid her hand into yours and smiled. “Why is everyone trying to steal you away from me?” She teased.

“It’s because I’m amazing.” You sassed.

“That’s got to be it.” She grinned. “We missed the countdown you know.”

“Did we?” You hummed leaning in closer to her.

“Yup.” She smiled her nose brushing against yours.

“Well then how about we have one of our own?” You whispered.

“3”

“2”

It wasn’t exactly twelve but, it was the best first kiss of the year you’ve ever had.

Nezu

               You let out a groan as you stretched all your joints popping pleasantly. With a deep relived sigh, you turned off the computer. You had finally finished the lesson plans for next year and you were beat. You didn’t have anyone to celebrate New Years with and you really didn’t mind it as much. Once upon a time you had but after years of hero work and teaching it all just became a blur and another day. So, you never really had any issues working through holidays.

Your co-workers had all left to celebrate the coming of the new year. In fact, they left hours ago it was Eleven. They had plans. You had been invited but you refused. You didn’t feel the need to party when you had so much work to do. You were also regarded as a bit of a buzz kill and, you didn’t want to be the wet blanket at the get-together.

You stacked the papers that you needed to give to the principal and made your way to his office. Your brows furrowed when you noticed that the light of the room was one. You thought that maybe someone left them on. But you knocked to make sure. And, when you heard a muffled come in you knew the doctor was in.  

“Hey” You greeted “What are you still doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing (Name).” He replied taking a sip of his coffee.

“Right. Well I finished the lesson plans for the next semester I have them here if you want to go over them.” You offered since the both of you obviously had nothing better to do.

He nodded and you pulled up a chair to join the cute small bear, rat thing. You both went over the material with him making comments and you adding to the curriculum. When the clock struck twelve you jumped. Not only at the noise but because Nezu shot up from his seat and scurried to a cabinet off to the side in his office.

You would admit to being surprised when he pulled out a bottle of brandy. Hell, you didn’t even know he drank anything other than liquid caffeine. When he hopped back up his chair, he handed you a glass that was in his desk. You were slightly embarrassed when he poured you a drink as he was your superior.

“Happy New years (Name).” He smiled raising his glass. “It isn’t exactly champagne but I wasn’t expecting company on New years.”

“It’s fine.” You mumbled clinking your glass against his letting the liquid burn your throat. “You always drink alone in your office.”

“I’m always here on holidays.” He hummed pouring himself another.

You swirled your drink a bit before deciding to ask him something. “You mind If I join you on those days?”

“Not at all” He chirped “Some company is fine on days like this, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” You grinned.

 Stain (Akaguro Chizome)

               (Part of the same story line as AFO Christmas)

You were working New Year’s as well. But, could anyone blame you? For starters you had no one waiting for you at home, you didn’t really have people who invited you to things and lastly the pay was tripled. After what happened on Christmas with AFO you had wanted to quit. But you figured that it would be hard to find such a good high paying job. Besides you were good at being a guard and you weren’t about to let some eyeless bastard dictate your life.

Speaking of villains, the area you had jurisdiction over seemed to be filled with the worst of them. And, you wouldn’t lie you had fun asking the villains of Tartarus questions. But your personal favorite was the hero killer. Due to your high rank no one bothered you when you went to chat with the blood quirked man.

In the back of your mind you heard AFO speaking to you, but your quirk easily dissipated the use of his quirk and you severed his mind link. Afterall you wanted to speak with Akaguro.

You used your card to unlock the door and, entered the white room. When you entered the room, you ignored the chair in the center and went to the glass separating you from the villain. His bloodshot eyes followed your movement in boredom and, when you leaned your back against the glass he spoke.

“Why are you always here.” He rasped.

“What? Can’t I visit my favorite prisoner to wish him a happy new year?” You teased.

He scoffed at your words. What was there to look forward to? Taco Tuesdays? Pizza Friday? Your random visits to his cell? Actually, he looked forward to those. Everyone else thought his views were bogus but, you actually listened to him. He liked hearing you comment on his views of society. What he loved more was that you tastefully agreed with some of his points. You truly were the only capable person in this hell hole. At least that’s what he thought.

“Chizome I’m curious.” You began. “Why the hell didn’t you become a hero instead? Like if you had the clout and attention of the masses people might have put two and two together and, you could have made a reformation movement.”

“Why? I didn’t want to soil myself by becoming the same type of scum as those fake heroes.” He sneered. “And, why are you asking me the same thing again. You’ve been coming here often.” He mused suspiciously. “You look like a rat scurrying away from a large prey.”

“Wow thanks.” You rolled your eyes turning to look at the extremist man. Your eyes looked to the sides suspiciously as you leaned in closer. He too moved in closer. And, in a voice barely above a whisper you spoke. “That man, he’s been trying to talk to me.”

“AFO?” he questioned. You nodded grimly. “Then tell one of those shitty doctors to up his sedation meds.”

“And, have them be suspicious as to why he’s speaking to me?!” You whisper yelled Stain just shrugged.

“That sounds like a you problem.” He dropped to the ground to perform pushups and you groaned.

“Come on Chizome I thought we were pals?” You whined.

He glared at you. “Are you serious? You’re a prison guard (Name).”

“So?” You pouted.

“Get out.” He sighed continuing his set. “I can’t deal with the stupidity coming out of your mouth right now.”

“Did you get flustered?” You snickered.                “Shut up.” He grumbled.

“Oh, you did!” You grinned. “Well I’ll leave you to your pointless sweating, Happy new year’s Chizome!” You called exiting his cell.

“Whatever.” He huffed he’s face feeling warm. But it was because he was working out! It wasn’t because you thought of him s a friend! Definitely not!

  AFO

               After you left the hero killer’s cell you could feel it. His presence that is. You had cut him off from your mind, but you could still feel him trying to push in. You were just grateful that even though he had a multitude of quirks he wasn’t proficient in all of them. Telepathy being one of his weaker ones as he had admitted during your conversation that one Christmas night.

               Tired of his insistence that felt like a constant poke at the back of your head you walked to his cell. You wouldn’t risk going inside. Even you would be heavily questioned if you entered his room without a medic or another guard. Therefore, you resorted to glaring at him from the small square window on the door. And you dropped your mental fire wall.

               ‘What the fuck do you want potato head.’ You hissed in your mind link with the criminal.

               ‘My, my such awful treatment to your elders (Name).’ His voice echoed in your mind. ‘I believe the Hero Killer was treated with much more respect than that.’

               ‘So? I don’t think that’s any of your business.’ You sassed. ‘And, I told you the 25th stop trying to communicate with me. Whatever it is you have to say, say it to someone else. As a matter of fact you can go ahead and tell All Might. I think he’d be down for another visit.’

               ‘This brash way of speaking will no doubt get you in trouble.’ You could hear the frown in his voice. His distaste at your brazen disrespect hung was palpable. ‘I don’t appreciate this tone in which you speak to me in’

               ‘Boo fucking hoo.’ You continued ‘Are you gonna do something about it?’

               ‘Not when your hand is above the emergency button.’ He answered .

               You felt a chill run down your spine. ‘Just how powerful is he.’ You thought ‘Is he fucking omnipresent now??’

               ‘Not quite’ He chuckled ‘I can teach you how to do it as well.’

               ‘Offering me power isn’t gonna get you anywhere.’ You hissed.

               ‘No, I suppose it isn’t not with your abilities. I just offer you help in understanding how to use them.’ He proposed.

               ‘No thanks.’ You spat ‘Now if that’s all you had to say I’m leaving.’

               ‘(Name)’ He called.

               “What!?” You snarled.

               “Happy New Year, He’s to seeing more of you this year.”

               “Doubtful.”

 Best Jeanist (Hakamata Tsunagu) :’)

               You weren’t one to partake in Hatsumode. You usually let the year roll in and didn’t think of temples or shrines. And, you felt a bit silly for being there in your warm kimono. You were one of those who didn’t believe in superstitions especially ringing a bell for a wish. It was part of your culture, but you had never liked it. Well that was before, now it seemed as though it was your only hope.

               You stood in the long line waiting to get to the front. It didn’t matter that the cold nipped at your skin. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t feel your toes. No one else had given you any answers or results. When you finally reached the front, you tugged on the thick rope and clapped your hands to pray. Pray for what? For Hakamata Tsunagu known to the public as Best Jeanist. After his aid in the fight with AFO he disappeared.

               You just wanted him back. You could feel how your tears escaped your tightly closed eyes. And you knew that those behind you were getting impatient but what else could you do. You begged and pleaded to who ever heard to bring him back to you safely. Or at least to protect him. You begged that he would be able to come back. ‘Please, please, please I beg of you. Have mercy. Please let him be alive. Please bring him back. Please let him come home. Please allow him to see our son being born. Let him be okay. Please, please……please.’

               *Ring*

#Amari's TDS #bnha ficmas #bnha christmas #mha christmas #All Might #All Might x reader #Toshinori yagi x reader #Toshinori yagi #All Might Angst #Midnight x reader #Midnight #nemuri kayama #nemuri kayama x reader #nezu #nezu x reader #Stain x reader #staino #akaguro chizome #Chizome akaguro x reader #AFO #afo x reader #best jeanist #best jeanist angst #best jeanist x reader #tsunagu hakamata #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers

[maskydoo]

Gas Gas Gas

Way back when I was a wee little private in basic training, I had a few gripes. Ok. A lot of gripes.

Griping is just what soldiers do – it’s our favorite pastime. What else are we going to do, actually read the Army manuals? What for?

To learn the words the Army Song? Pssh! Like I’ll ever need to know that!

Training is hard. It’s supposed to be. So embrace the suck. If it was easy, everyone could do it.

It wasn’t all bad. I genuinely had a lot of good times in the army, even in basic training. Sometimes the training was fun, and found things I was surprisingly good at.

I knew it would be hard, but I was young and invincible and I could do anything. 

So I was ready for the shouting, the challenges, the pushups – all that. Bring it on.

But the gas. The gas.

The recruiters never said anything about tear gas.

Just forgot to mention that one, did you SSG Nett. Left that one out of the recruitment brochure. Join the Army, set your lungs on fire.

The gas was the absolute worst experience, in basic, in the Army, and probably in my entire life.

Not so tough anymore when the gas hits.

I don’t care what a big, strong, stoic soldier you are. Doesn’t matter. You’re gunna cry, GI Joe.

Zero out of ten. Would not breathe CS gas again.

CS gas, that’s … this.

(text: orto-chlorobenzylidene-malononitrile /  2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile )

The drill sergeants never called it by these names. They always just called it CS. Probably they assumed we wouldn’t be able to pronounce these words. Well HA! Jokes on them. I’ve been practicing, and-

They’re right.

CS gas is a riot control agent. A tear gas. And, according to the internet, it’s really an aerosolized powder.

The more you know.

Imma keep calling gas anyway.

If you’ve never been exposed to tear gas, maybe you think all it does is irritate people’s eyes a bit and make them cry, like someone managed to weaponize the feeling of chopping onions.  

I mean yeah, the gas will do that, but it’s so, so much worse.

Day whatever of basic,

I don’t know, it all blurs together,

Aint like I kept a diary like some kind of pioneer on the Oregon trail, days away from dying of dysentery.

The drill sergeants issued us all these enormous green pouches. Inside, some ancient gas masks that look like they’re in even worse shape than my rifle, which by the way was held together with wire where a takedown pin should have been.

The upper and lower receivers were not on speaking terms. Rattled like a… well, a rattle.

And like my rifle, we were taught to take masks apart and put them back together. Some are missing pieces.

Like my rifle.

Drill Sergeant: “GAS! GAS! GAS!”

This is the command to put you mask on.

Drill Sergeant: “Gas! Gas! Gas!”

Pretty straight forward as far as commands go. Nothing left to interpretation there.

Also, there’s gesture signal. Shoulder touching. Like this. Looks goofy.

We drilled putting on those masks quick, because when their air is poison, you’d better be fast or you’re going to have a bad time.

Speaking of bad times, next we ran laps. You do a lot of running in basic, and it’s death. I hate running even on a good day. I can do pushups all day long, but cardio can pound sand. Running laps with a facehugger doesn’t improve the experience.   

The purpose of this is to prove that yes, you can in fact breathe in these things, so just quit whinging and do it, Drill Sergeants have no time for your claustrophobia nonsense.

That wasn’t a problem for me. The heat was. Running laps in Missouri, in the summer heat, with my face covered material designed specifically NOT to let air flow.

Well the good news is you don’t have worry about breathing poison if you can drown yourself in your own sweat first.

All of this was in preparation for the gas chamber.

The gas chamber was a tiny one-room building full of that nasty CS gas that we would all have to spend some time in, as a required part of training in the US military. Why?

To instill confidence in your equipment to protect you, we’re told.

Yeah… about that…

(gas mask falls apart)

We get marched into the woods, to this run down looking shack, where we would get locked in.

This sounds like a setup for a horror movie.

The room is already filled with gas. They make sure it’s nice and thick before they send us in. When we were lined up outside, masks on, I could already smell pepper. Trying to clear my mask was not working.

Not feeling super confident in my equipment right now.

So we file in, and to prove to us that our masks can protect us from the gas, what do they do?

They have us take our masks off. Immediately.

What?! How are our masks supposed to protect us if we just take them off as soon as we’re inside? I don’t know. Training people to remove their masks and just stand around when exposed to gas doesn’t seem like a great idea…

You can’t hold it forever, eventually, you have to breathe. And holy heck that is some SPICY air!

I’ve been told that CS gas works by reacting to your mucous membranes, which I basically just took this to mean anything moist will burn.

This is when I became literally painfully aware of what it means to be a lifeform made mostly of water. I regretted every drop.

Just a scratching in your throat at first, makes you cough. Then it burns. Your throat. Your nostrils. Your eyes.

Now you’re crying. Not so tough now, are ya? The tears fall and the trail burns down your face.

All your exposed skin burns more as you sweat – and if you weren’t sweating before, you are now.

Your mouth burns. Down your lungs. It even reaches your stomach. You realize a lot more of your body was exposed to the outside environment than you’re comfortable thinking of that way. And it’s all on fire.

You hack, you cough, you gasp, you cry, you snot, you drool, you puke. You’re not pretty.

Did you know CS gas use in war is prohibited by the Chemical Weapons Convention? We literally wouldn’t use this stuff on our enemies.

The trick to making the gas chamber not so bad is to remain calm, but that’s difficult to do when you feel like you’re actually melting.

Your bodys like WTF?! Alert! Alert!

Your sympathetic nervous system kicks in – you freak out. Your heart races, your breathing quickens – or tries to, and you sweat more, all of it makes the reaction so much worse.

30 seconds in, I thought I was gunna die. A minute in, I wished I would.

I think we were there for at least five. It could have been ten. Felt like an eternity. Like a preview of hell.

We weren’t allowed to leave or put our masks back on. So there we are, just choking and coughing for as long as it amused the drill sergeant.

And he was in no hurry. He was in full MOP gear, and presumably his mask was one that actually worked.

The Drill Sergeant is completely indifferent to everyone’s suffering. He walked up and down the line holding a plate to shove at everyone, like a pusher church user with a collection plate. But you couldn’t pay this guy not to waft some fresh-ly made, concentrated CS directly at your face.

But we’re not left to our misery, no. The Drill Sergeant has tasks for us.

He was doing everything he could to make the reaction as bad as possible. He wanted us breathing hard, getting our heart rates up, and sweating. And Drill Sergeants know just how to do that.

Pushups, cardio, shouting.  All things the Army loves. All things that require breathing.

But the worst was yet to come.

Y’all, I made a huge mistake not reading the entire Army manual. The task we had to complete, without making a mistake, in order to escape this horrible room was to scream-sing the Army Song.

I didn’t know the words. No one knew the full song. At most, a few of us knew some parts of it – but no one bothered to memorize the whole thing. And the Drill Sergenat was not about to help us at all.

It took us all soooo many agonizing tries to get it right. But enough of us knew enough bits and pieces to eventually piece it all together, after many, many tries.

All: “First to fight for the right… (trails off)

One Private: “And to build the nation’s might!”

Drill Sergeant: “Start again!”

All (wheeze) “March along sing our song *cough cough*

Drill Sergeant: “Louder! Start over!”

All: (Anguished wail)

This singing portion went on for a long time, and not because it was music to anyone’s ears. The patriotic tune as covered by the wails of the damned wasn’t going to make top 40, but there’s no accounting for schadenfreude for the drill sergeant. He seemed entertained.

And… as much as I hated his guts in that moment…. I get it. I totally get it.

If there was a version of American Idol, like, insane edition, where contestants had to sing their hearts out while Simon Cowell pepper sprayed them in the face…

I’d watch that.

I did not know the Army Song going in, but I sure as heck knew it by heart by the time we left.

It turns out you can learn pretty fast when it feels like your life depends on it. Still, doubt,  gas chambers will catch on as a study aid.

Teacher: “What’s the quadratic equation?”

Students: “

Side note: The Army Song doesn’t hold a candle to the Marine Corps Song. Yeah, I’m a traitor and I don’t care. Don’t at me.

So remind me again, what was supposed to be the purpose this training? Between all this singing, exercising, and not mask wearing, I forgot.

“To instill confidence in our equipment.” You know, the equipment we were not using in the one exact situation it was designed for. What does screaming the Army Song and working out in a gas chamber, puking my lungs out, demonstrate about a mask that we are not even wearing?

----

(Cut to an airplane)

Skydiving instructor: “Alright everyone, I want you all to feel confident in your equipment to protect you. So today you’re all jumping… without your parachutes.”

Jumper: Uh… it’s Ok, I trust the parachute.

Skydiving instructor: (Tosses someone) “Out you go.”

I think the methodology of this experiment is flawed, the test doesn’t do anything to support your conclusion.

I think the real reason they didn’t let us wear the masks at all was just keep us from realizing these old things have been used for every basic training company to come through probably since Nam and really don’t work.

I’m sure the newer ones fielded to the real army work just fine, but no one is shelling out that kind of dough for a bunch of newbie kids in basic. We just get the hand-me-downs..

We take them off so we don’t get the change to lose confidence in our gear.

That, or it’s just plain hazing.

Probably both.

Finally it was time to leave. We were half blind but could see daylight enough to rush for it. And if we’re not careful, rush right into a drill sergeant waiting in ambush, just standing there evidently in hopes of a collision as an excuse to shout at us some more.

In other places, I’m told this drill sergeant is a replaced by a sturdy pole, there for no other reason than to be in the way.

By the time we finally leave, we’re a mess. We’re crying, we’ve got drool and snot hanging down our faces all the way to the ground, which we’re not allowed to wipe away. We have to keep our heads down while flapping our arms to air out our uniforms, while hacking and coughing and puking all the way out.

We looked like ostriches with a plague.

And you’ll get to have that look remembered forever. There was a sneaky photographer dude I’d sometimes see following the company around, taking shots for the class yearbook and… I guess Army publicity.

He won’t get that sweet action shot of you scaling a wall, or crawling under some razor wire on the night assault course, or when you stab a dummy right in the chest with your bayonette, looking like a total bad one.

But he’ll totally make sure to capture your ugly-crying gross booger face for your siblings to laugh at when your family buy your class yearbook on graduation you’re your grandma will frame the photo and hang it on the wall, telling proudly telling everyone in her book club “that’s my granddaughter.”

And your teachers will use it to threaten their students with “This is the face of someone who didn’t complete their homework on time. This could be you if you don’t get your grades up. Get a scholarship or you’re joining the military.”

Ah yes, this is the face I want to show the world. That dangling snot rope really brings out the agony in my eyes. Gunna put that right on my Tinder profile. Yep.

(If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.)

Wikipedia suggests several methods for treating victims of CS gas exposure. Our post exposure treatment was - nothing.

Yeah. We got nothing. Just sat around in a field and waited for the effects to wear off and for life to suck slightly less.

And that’s the funny thing about it. Just a short while before, I was having probably the worst 5 minutes of my life up that point, but as soon as it was done, it was done. I felt fine.

Actually, I felt a little better than I did that morning, and not just out of a new appreciation for fresh air.

Stick 60 people from all over the country in one sleeping bay, in an environment where no matter how hard you try hygiene is never great, and then there’s that donkeyface who stands behind me in formation coughing directly at the back of my head, and sicknesses tend to get around.

Me: “Cough in my hair one more time, and I will jam this patrol cap right down your throat to feed back you your own germs.“

I don’t think many people make it through the first weeks of basic without catching some kind of bug.

One lady in our platoon even managed to catch a staph infection, like, the first week. I dunno how. Eventually, she got sent home, and I got to take her rifle, which wasn’t much better than my original one, but at least was not held together by a bit of bent wire.

Anyway, if there’s anything good that can be said for CS, it really works wonders to clear the sinuses. I was breathing better after the gas chamber than before I went in. Everything that was stuffing me up was gone.

Gotta find that silver lining somewhere.

And in this case it’s a snot lining, and you’ll find it coating the gas chamber floor.   

Me: (reading my own script.) “Ew.”

-Infomercial-

Sinus congestion got you feeling down? Don’t have time to wait around for normal medicine to kick in?

Not to worry, the US Military has the solution for you! Formally declare war on enemy boogies with CS gas! 9 out of 10 riot control teams agree, CS is the number 1 choice to make all your troubles panic and scatter in terror. Just pop one CS gas capsule and it works instantly, scientifically proven to make the sniffles the least of your problems.

Mission accomplished!”

Side-effects include:

Burning sensation in eyes, skin, mouth, and internal organs, coughing, wheezing, watery eyes, difficulty breathing, difficulty speaking, sweating, thoughts of revenge against your recruiter, elevated heartrate, snot rockets, drooling absolutely everywhere, vomiting, making this face, secondary gassing of yourself and others later when puff of CS come off your clothing, pain – like - lots of it, and regret.

Harness the power of chemical weapons today! Ask your doctor is CS gas is right for you and your entire neighborhood!

Not approved by the Geneva conventions.

#maskydoo #storytime #script #feedback welcome #army

[poppyknitt]

Baby Steps (A JSE egos fanfiction + smol easter egg)

(Please note that this fanfiction is a slight deviation from the main storyline of my current line of fanfictions, and is still just as important, but also will not be totally necessary to read if all you wanna do is read the main story)

(Also, if you are triggered by even just the mental image of things like extremely loud noises, slight psychosis, and other things that can surface when dealing with post-coma brain issues and also Darkiplier type demons at the same time, I suggest not reading past the dog park scene. It gets real bad after that. Especially because i wrote this at fucking 10-11PM like an idiot.)

Seán sat on a bench in a dog park, his memories still blurred together. His doctor had recommended he get a dog or something to help ease the stress of not being able to remember anything from before he slipped into a coma, but honestly he felt like he didn’t have the time for it, so he just took daily trips down to the dog park, and hope that he was lucky enough to be able to pet one of the dogs there.

A few hours passed, and wouldn’t you know it, there’s the one and only Mark, who’s visiting for a few days, because he’s on tour.

“Oh! Hey buddy!” Mark yelled, and jogged over.

“Hey Mark.” Seán said. He would have to get used to being called “Jack” whenever he was with his youtube buddies, for whatever weird reason. He didn’t really understand why people didn’t just call him by his name now, since everyone already knows it.

“What’s going on pal? I heard about the coma thing. How long have you been back in it?” Mark was already bombarding him with questions.

“Agh, slow down! My head’s still getting used to the real world..” He said, gripping his head as another migraine started setting in.

“Oh, jeez-! God, I’m sorry, Jack. I forgot about the brain stuff that comes with comas... Man, if I knew you were haning out in dog parks, I would’a brought Chica with me!” Mark said, laughing at the last part.

“Ah, jeez... Who was Chica again..? Wasn’t that a yellow bird in a horror game..?” Seán trailed off.

“Well, yeah, kinda, but Chica’s the name of my golden retriever!” Mark replied.

“Oh! Yeah, right! I remember now! Aw, man, I miss ‘er! She looked so cute the last time I saw her!” He grinned.

“Anyways, since I’m here, wanna do a collab? Maybe stream a few things together? I dunno. Just.. Do something fun, I guess.” Mark suggested.

“Heh, yeah, maybe later though. I need to get home and take some painkillers or something.” Seán said.

“Oh. Well, alright then! See ya later, nerd!” Mark waved happily as Seán slowly walked off, and then muttered under his breath once his friend was out of earshot, “Ha. Painkillers. Fucking wuss.”(because this is actor! Mark. Not real Mark.)

Seán sighed to himself as he got into his car and drove home. God, missing out on a little over nine months of his life... What all even happened while he was out...? And why did everyone change..? Mark’s being weird and aloof, Henrik won’t tell him anything, Robin’s being quiet all of a sudden... God, he wished he knew what was happening. He arrived at his place, and went inside, shutting the door behind him. Jeez... maybe he should get a dog.

~~~~

Mark paced impatiently in front of his computer, waiting for Seán to call, “God damn it, where is he?!”

“Mark, don’t be a dick.” Amy huffed in annoyance.

“Well I’m sorry that I’ve been waiting for almost a whole day to do a collab with Jack, and he hasn’t even bothered to respond yet!” Mark said in his weird sassy voice.

——

Seán Jack woke up, and immediately felt a strange sense of dread in the back of his mind, which was abnormal, because this was his house, and if anything, he should be the one igniting fear into the hearts of anyone who tries to break in. He shrugged it off, and got up, looking at his computer instinctively.

“Oh, fuck! I forgot about the collab. Shit! Mark’s gonna be pissed!” He yelped, and immediately prepared himself for a collab video or two. When he was done, he hurried into his recording studio, and began the collab.

Mark joined the collab while Jack was still fumbling around in search of his headphones.

“Looking for these?” A sinister voice voice, much like Mark’s, echoed from the computer, sending chills down his spine. He slowly turned to see...

His headphones on his keyboard.

“Oh, there they are. Hey Maaaarrrrrkkkkkk- AH HOLY FUCK WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” Jack screamed, jumping back from the monitor when he noticed it wasn’t Mark talking to him, but rather, his dark ego, Dark, so naturally, he played it “cool”, “Oh! Hahahaha! I-I see! You’re just fucking with me, aren’t ya, Mark? Yeah! I know your tricks! You can’t fool me!”

“Oh, I can assure you, this is not computer effects. I am very, very real, Jack.” The voice echoed throughout the apartment.

“What do you want from me?!” Jack exclaimed. The lights in his house all bursted, and Jack screamed, covering his head, as his ears began to ring, “Ahhhh! Why?! Why now?! God! No! This is a terrible time! I haven’t even taken any medications!”

“Jack! Jesus fucking christ! Where the hell are you?! Why are you screaming?!” Mark yelled, which, strangely enough, was comforting to hear.

“Mark! Oh thank fucking Christ! Dude! Your dark ego dude just fucking assaulted my house!” Jack yelled.

“What?! Dark ego? What the hell are you talking about? Wait, don’t tell me you believe the bullshit the community’s telling us!” Mark growled.

“I didn’t! I swear! But that fucking bastard just tapped into our conversation! He-He took over my computer! Please, Mark! For the love of god, I’m not crazy-!” Jack got cut off by his house’s alarms all going off, which caused his ears to ring again, his head’s pain to get worse, as he immediately started repeating “ow” and “oh fuck, oh god, oh no” over and over, as he started growing dizzy. Reality and fiction began to blurr as his pain only worsened, and soon he couldn’t tell what was in his head and what was actually happening, as he slowly fell to the ground.

The last thing he heard before passing out was Mark yell, “Amy! Call the fucking ambulance! Jack’s gone nuts or some shit and his house sounds like it’s gonna fucking explode!”

~~~~

Jack woke up on his way to the hospital, and jolted up, his whole mind filling with absolute terror as he recalled the previous events. Lights flashing. His computer screen was glitching the hell out. Alarms blaring. Mark screaming in either panic or anger. Worst of all, however, was that the last thing he could recall seeing was Dark looming over him as he lay on the ground, clutching his head in pain and screaming his ass off as his brain knocked itself out over all the noise and pandemonium that seiged his nerves and made it feel like his head was about to explode. As he realized he was now in a hospital room, he noted that he could also hear the distant sound of Henrik’s distressed voice as he snapped back to reality.

“Seán! Seán, you idiot! Vake zhe hell up! Vhat zhe hell happened?! Why are you back like zhis?!” Henrik bombarded him with questions.

“I-I don’t know! I-I was gonna do a-a collab with Mark but then that Darkiplier dude that tumblr obsesses over appeared on my screen and talked to me and all the lightbulbs exploded so my head was hurting and something happened, Mark was yelling at me, and then all my alarms went off and I-I blacked out but like just before I did, the Darkiplier dude appeared in my apartment?! I-I don’t know! Nothing makes sense! I-It’s all so blurry!” Jack rushed through his words in a blind panic, but that didn’t matter, because as soon as Henrik heard the word “Darkiplier”, he ran the fuck out.

Jack heard him screaming at Mark in the other room.

“Vhat zhe hell is vrong vith you, you idiot?! I zhought I said to not try to speak vith him until zhis all blows ovah!” Henrik yelled.

“I didn’t think you were fucking serious! I didn’t even know the asshole would attack Jack! I thought it would be fine!” Mark yelled back.

“Notzhing is evah fine vhen you are involved, Mark! Not anymore! You zhink you are helping vith your videos, but you are only making zhis situation vorse for zhose of us vhom have to be stuck in zhe damn crossfires of you and your stupid little var vith your stupid little dark egos! At least ve have zhe fucking decency to keep away from ozher youtubers vhen Anti attacks us! Zhose two are not vhat you zhink! Zhey have much more power zhan you can even imagine, and vhat do you do? You release them into zhe fucking vorld by recklessly involving ozher people in your stuff! Just fucking vait! You should be more worried about your stupid friends zhan keeping your channel relevant!” Henrik ranted.

“Alright! Alright! I get it! You think this is my fault! Fine! I’ll take the fucking blame then!” Mark yelled back.

“Don’t you get a fucking attitude wizh me, you bastard! Oh, I am so going have a vord vith zhe ozhers about zhis! And believe me, Mark! Zhis vill not happen again!”

Jack sighed, and closed his eyes, resting his head against the pillow. He didn’t understand anything they were discussing anymore.

~~~~

Jack opened his eyes, and froze. The world was glitching between normal colors and monotonous colors, like it had been when he fainted. He immediately shut his eyes, not wanting to deal with this again.

Why? Why him?! What the hell did he do?! He just wanted to hang out with his friend! Get back some of the time he lost while he was in comatose! Not this!

“Jack! Jack! I know you’re awake, you clueless bastard!” Mark said, and Jack opened his eyes to find the room was normal again.

... Oh god... What kind of demon did he unleash upon the world this time..?

[Sean #1/Darkilplier Prologue pt. 1]

Henrik #1

Marvin #1

JBM #1

Chase #1/Darkiplier Prologue pt. 2

JJ & Robbie #1

Anti #1

Sean #2

@antis-loyal-puppet

#fanfic #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye #Henrik #henrik von schneeplestein #doctor schneeplestein #markiplier #markiplier egos #mark and amy #amy #darkiplier

[sordess]

7 WIPs Meme

I was tagged by @aliatori to share some WIP snippets. Much to my surprise, I have far more WIPs than I thought, but not quite 7.

1. Suddenly, Ardyn/Ravus content out of left field

Ardyn sighed as he set his glass down, Ravus still frowning at him. He really should hold him at a greater length, especially given the inevitable steps in the empire’s (and his) plans, but the wine had already began to work its magic—a benefit of subsisting on a constantly empty stomach. “Did you miss my company that much?”

Ravus held his gaze for a beat, defiant, then dropped his eyes to the bottle. “It’s you or a cadre of MTs for company,” he said flatly as he poured himself a small amount, just a sip, really.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then.”

2. Can’t think of a better way to meet your SO than pulling an arrow out of his chest

Before he can ease the arrow out, the stranger grabs Ardyn’s bicep with his right hand, somehow having regained a shred of lucidity. Ardyn freezes at the strength and intensity of the stranger’s hot grasp on his arm and looks to find his amber, yet slightly unfocused, gaze on him. It’s not as if Ardyn has been deprived of another human’s touch entirely—his attendants and his brother being the sole sources of such stimulation—but he’s never been touched in such a way, with such a palpable need behind it. Ardyn finds his throat dry and tight but he forces himself to swallow.

“I need to pull it out,” he says, fighting with every bit of strength he has to keep his voice level. “Can you bear with me just a bit longer?” Ardyn has no idea if the stranger can understand him, let alone process what is happening to him, but he holds the stranger’s unfocused gaze. Ardyn does his best to radiate warmth and confidence, to gain his understandably cagey patient’s trust.

The stranger releases Ardyn’s arm as suddenly as he grabbed it. He squeezes his eyes shut and lays his head back against the rock. Ardyn can feel him try to relax his body underneath his touch, though there is an undeniably taut line of unease running through him.

“The others won’t be so bad,” Ardyn finds himself saying.

“Have you ever been hit by an arrow?” the stranger asks through gritted teeth, speech thickly accented but perfectly comprehensible.

Ardyn gapes slightly at the stranger’s words, warmth creeping over his face as he thinks of the inane things he was babbling just minutes ago to try and soothe the injured man. He wants to ask him so many questions—was he involved in the battle (yes)? Did he see anyone fitting Somnus’ description (likely)? Were he and his fellow fighters trying to kill him (most certainly)? But instead, Ardyn just stares wide-eyed at the behemoth beneath him and manages a simple “no.”

The stranger snorts in laughter. It’s one of the most undignified yet unbridled sounds Ardyn thinks he’s ever heard in his life. “They’re all bad.”

3. I still write Gladnis content... sometimes...

Ignis hopped/hobbled around the bend to the top of the rock with as much dignity as he could muster, which was really quite a lot. His vision seemed to blur and spin as he finally reached the top, and his balance faltered momentarily. Ignis was greeted by the sight of Noctis and Prompto in their fold-up camping chairs, already fiddling with their phones, as Gladio pounded the tent spikes into the sheer rock. Spitefully, Ignis would note. He was pounding the spikes in rather spitefully.

"Took ya long enough, Specs. What's for dinner?" Noctis didn't even bother to look up.

Ignis managed his nicest smile, his glasses catching the light from the campfire rendering his expression unreadable. He took another hop into the campsite, raised his chin as haughtily as he could, the light from the fire now catching the beads of sweat on his skin, giving him a manic look. He parted his lips to respond with “a lovely carpaccio using some of that trout you caught this morning,” but found the stars that appeared in his line of sight quite pretty and distracting instead.

"I'm afraid dinner is canceled tonight."

Noctis, Prompto, and even Gladio the gorilla managed to look up just as Ignis collapsed face first in a heap, dignity and his glasses snapping cruelly on the cold, unforgiving rock.

4. Just kidding, Ardyn/Big G is my true love

Though Ardyn had watched Gilgamesh loose countless arrows in the past, he demonstrated the proper form for Ardyn once more. Gilgamesh racked an arrow and, with seemingly little effort, drew it completely back and held it steady, explaining the finer points of his posture. Though Ardyn nodded at the explanation, Gilgamesh’s words fell on deaf ears, Ardyn’s eyes trailing over Gilgamesh’s taut biceps and down his back, wishing he could see the defined muscles of his back and shoulders, hidden by his tunic.

“Are you—are you even listening?” Gilgamesh asked, annoyed, eyeing Ardyn over his shoulder.

“I’m hanging on every word, I promise,” Ardyn replied, lips quirked into a smile.

5. After the first Scourge-sucking

“Stay,” he said with an urgency he didn’t know he had. “Don’t go. Please.” It made his insides churn at how pathetic he sounded, but he pleaded with Gilgamesh nonetheless.

Gilgamesh looked down at him, his expression a mix of pity and concern. All at once it felt like Gilgamesh was his last line to humanity, to goodness—if he walked away, the line would snap and Ardyn would be left to the demons crawling inside.

“Please.” Ardyn pushed himself up and out of the water, bracing himself on the sides of the tub, in his flurry his own nakedness forgotten. Every inch of him dripping and exposed, Ardyn felt that he really would cry if Gilgamesh rejected him now. He took a step toward Gilgamesh, the water lapping around knees, suddenly overcome with the need to touch him, to be held by him.

His head was swimming with doubt and shame, but nothing could stop Ardyn from taking another step closer. And then, everything shattered. Fat, hot tears bubbled over and dripped down Ardyn’s cheeks, his jaw quivered and he knew he’d lost it. A second later the flow of tears was unstoppable. Ardyn covered his face with his hands, he just wanted to sink back down into the water and disappear.

But Gilgamesh grabbed him before he could turn in on himself and held Ardyn upright, pulling him into a crushing embrace. It didn’t matter that Ardyn was sopping wet, that he was a crumbling, emotional mess, Gilgamesh held him tightly and resolutely, as the sobs wracked Ardyn’s body. In time Ardyn wrapped his arms around Gilgamesh’s back and buried his face into his neck.

6. Domestic shenanigans aka oops my hand slipped

Gilgamesh rode back around and slowed his gelding as he came back to Ardyn’s side, his grin infectious at that point.

“I don’t imagine you all sleep amongst the sheep?” Ardyn asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Oh, well some of the men have been known to lie with a sheep now and then,” Gilgamesh chuckled, “but most of us keep to the yurts.”

Ardyn stood up in the saddle, craning his neck to try and get sight of what could possibly be called a village or yurt, but saw nothing.

“Ah, you can’t see them from here,” Gilgamesh explained with a smile.

“Oh,” Ardyn said, lowering himself back into the saddle. “I thought you said this was home.”

“Wherever my people are is home,” Gilgamesh replied simply. “Come, there’s much to be done.”

Gilgamesh urged his horse on and Ardyn followed suit.

“Much to be done? Gilgamesh, what do you mean? Why did we come here?”

Gilgamesh turned back, his expression mocking innocence, like a child caught in the act of something naughty and trying to avoid punishment. “It’s shearing season.”

“I—What? We came here to shear sheep? All of these sheep?”

Gilgamesh blinked. “Yes. You’ll like it, trust me.”

Tagging @porcelainlovebug if you want to share!

#fic #wip #hot pulpy trash

[ruginite]

❤

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR… Status: Not Acceptin’

❤  five times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it.

 [ Deep down i know this never works….. ]

1-

Unholy. That’s what time it is. No hours no minutes. Just unholy. Which can only mean one thing. Something went shit side ways over night, and their number got called. And he half thinks about throwing something heavy at the figure standing in the door way. But he’s too fucking tired to be assed with the idea. Leaving the door open as he turns to shuffle off towards the kitchen. To locate the coffee…and the pot and will himself an unholy amount of caffeine to counteract the unholy hour that it is.

                 Oh stop. You love me. My beautiful mug’s much better lookin’ than the inside of your eye lids any day.

                        “I like t’inside a’m’eye lids….You? Not s’much.”

2-

He’s a good guy. He cares. He’s just bad at ya know…saying it.

He bulldozed you off a building, Steven.

It was one story, Danny. Plus it blew up a second later and I landed on a car. I was fine.

Okay you know what, here….hold this. I’m going to prove to you the guy has no feelings….

There’s a box shoved into the team leader’s hands. A box filled with sweet pasteries. The kind everyone that knows the current topic of conversation, is weak for.

Danny this is stu—

Shut up.

He shuffles into the room. Completely disregarding the room. To focused on the grease covered engine part in his hands. He’d forgotten his phone, and here’s the last place he remembered putting it. And he almost walks into the pair that step into his path. Blue cast towards them in slight irritation.

Hypothetical Twinkle Fingers….you have a choice. Save our fearless leader here from blowing himself up, or take this box of donuts and set the bomb off yourself.

For a second he thinks they’re serious. But then—no they’re fucking with him. And the truth is he can smell it. The sweet sugary goodness inside the box and—he takes the box. About faces, and shuffles back out of the room; without a word. He doesn’t have time for their hypothetical bullshit. And this? This is just one more way to keep the truth to himself.

3-

                   Hey! I just met you! And this is crazy!

Most days he prides himself on the fact he’s seen (and mostly is) enough weird shit that nothing can really phase him anymore. But at the moment…at the moment he’s being proven incorrect. As they speed down an un-populated road towards HQ. Radio blasting and Fish….Fish being the literal most terrifyingly weird fucking thing he’s ever seen. 

                 Here’s my number! So call me maybe!

There are some things that a grown man shouldn’t do. And belting out lyrics to the pop-y monstrosity that’s currently threatening to make Bastian go deaf is by far one of the top five. And it’s taking every square inch of his minimal self control not to reach across the center console and choke the life out of the SEAL. And Steve isn’t at all helping with the look that screams stop being such a sour ass. You know you love me.To which all Bastian can do is glare back with an inexplicable look that can’t be read any other way but…Yea sure, bout as much as I need another hole n’m’head.

4-

Silence.

It’s a stark contrast between how the lot of them usually are. Always picking at each other. Always joking. But just now…just now it’s all heavy silence. And he finds himself wishing for a sound of some kind. Mindless chatter. Someone sneezing for fuck’s sake. But none of it happens. And he’s left to stand there. Apart from them all. Leaned against the wall, folded in on himself.

They blame him. That’s fine. It’s the easier for them. They might all be on the same team, but the truth is it’s always been them…and him. And maybe that’s his fault more than there’s. But it’s all water under the fucking bridge now. The line’s been drawn in the sand. Because their fearless leader’s in ICU, hanging on by threads. And it’s Bastian’s fault; as far as anyone that matter’s is concerned.

The doors open. The doctor comes shuffling in. Babbles jargen and damage and…the other set of doors at the end of the hall swing open. Suits. And for once in his life he doesn’t buck them. For once he lets them do their job without making it hard. Jaw clenching back the pain of sharp toothed rings biting into his skin, and heavy constraining cuffs locking his hands behind his back.

And honestly he really doesn’t notice that the Hobbit’s trailing after, as they lead him away. Doesn’t notice the arguing that ensues. Not until a hand manages to grab him by the arm. Stops his shuffled and slow forward motion. And blue meets blue for fractions of a second before Bastian tears his gaze away to the floor. Because that look? He knows that look. Knows what it said without speaking.

                  What am I supposed to tell, Steve?

             “Fuck should I care?”

And he’s wrenching his arm away. Feet once more picking up pace. And he doesn’t look back. Because it’s easier to make people hate him, than the opposite. Beyond the fact the opposite….is exactly what got Steve where he is. Barely alive, and the fault put on the one person that just maybe it shouldn’t be. But that’s what Bastian does isn’t it? Takes the blows that would other wise break or kill other people. Bears the weight that would crush everyone else. And really, what is one more black tally mark on his scorecard? Not much he wagers.

5-

Evals. He hates these god damn things. Doesn’t understand why they bother with them. It’s not like they actually give two shits what he thinks about anything. They just want to make sure he’s still knows his place. Where on the proverbial food chain his name sits. And there’s a groan as the questions drone on. The answers just as droning.

           “Yea. No. Don’t care. S’a trick question, there ain’t no right answer.”

But then…the questions get a little more personal. A little more invasive and he doesn’t like where this is headed. He sits up a little straighter. Arms fold over his chest. Blue narrows, lines in auburn. And there’s something a little more threatening and border line terrifying when the spit the last question at him.

              How do you feel your relationship with your handler has                       evolved since you were assigned to their team?

There’s a silence that falls on the room. That’s thick with annoyance. Accented with bitter bits of rage. Because if he’s good at anything, he excels at hiding panic beneath inpenatrable layers of rage. And when the answer comes it’s gruff and all together drenched in annoyance.

               “It ain’t. Arrangement’s fucked now as much as it was then.                         M’doin’ this cuz y’jackasses ain’t given me no other choice….”

A heart beat. Then another. Before he’s half growling a question at them this time.

                 “We done?”

6-

R and R. By definition (or at least his) that means sleeping til you wake up. With no where to be in a god damn hurry. But apparently Steven “Fish” McGarrett hadn’t gotten the fucking memo. Because it’s 5am and they’re already having an argument. Not the violent kind mind. But an argument all the same. Because Fish refuses to take inhuman noise as a no about going swimming.

Finally though the gentle back and forth stops. And the covers are yanked off. Bastian’s feet grabbed at the ankles and….

              FUCK! 

Hands scramble for purchase, blindly grasping at sheets that are to tight against the mattress and….

              THUNK.

He face plants. Hard. Cheek to wood floor. And in a split second he’s gone from half unconcious to oh hell no. Twisting around onto his shoulders, wrenching his ankles out of McGarrett’s grip. Getting to his feet much more nibbly, than someone of his build might be expected to move. A shoulder planted right into Fish’s middle and hauled up despite height and weight. Before Bastian’s turning. Tossing the SEAL onto the bed and pinning him down. 

It becomes a blur of flesh and cotton after that. That eventually results in Bastian catching the short end of the stick; and Steve getting away. A pillow snatched up from the floor; a finding it’s mark across Baz’s face.

              “Asshole.”

           You love me.

Foot steps track off out the door. A shake of a head that russles mussed hair. And perhaps a not so loud….

            “Yea….yea I know.”

#hoouna #fish || steve mcgarrett #Guide Us Ignite Us Fix Us || Steve & Bastian #outgoing || answered asks #[ mobile post ] #[ long ass post ]