#but my eyesight is fine but driving in the dark is hell and its not b/c of the dark!

[rose-lalondde]

pro tip: if you think you have adhd then don't start a master's program before you even get a diagnosis (also you need a stronger prescription, you have astigmatism, and reading glasses aren't gonna cut it)

#i can handle one class just fine but 2 classes??? im killing myself #im working too so its like i never have time for myself and its just a neverending well of assignments and work plus i hate the schedule #why is everything due at 10:59 and why is it due in the middle of the week but i have to come back the next 2 days and write responses #one of my classes will trade out a disucssion for the week with an assignment thats due at the end of the week and i like that sm better #the other class makes use do a discussion and an assignment in the same week #and usually they're all due at the same time so i go to work and then go home do my homework and then do more homework on the weekend #then go back to work do you understand my problem #anyway my mom casually confirmed that i have astigmatism recently which ??? #but my eyesight is fine but driving in the dark is hell and its not b/c of the dark! #any kind of bright light blinds me like it could be a sunny day and i won't be seeing shit for that entire drive omg #just realized that this might be the cause of an increase in headaches wait... #ok back on track: adhd consultation (maybe) in a month and a half! #i don't have a therapist so im hoping my doctor can help? or at least refer me to somebody that can help b/c looking is hard omg #where the therapists at omg #moon posts #long one today because i am procrastinating so i can give up <3

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Arrival - Bit 2)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Well, these posts seem to be getting longer. I’m pondering if I should make them shorter and more often.

As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and @onereyofstarlight​ for their amazing support and who without putting up with my crazy this fic would likely not exist.

We are finally there and things can start happening. Wow, planning makes for longer fics apparently.

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

As the rest of the family exited the cockpit, Michael watched John deploy the last of the long chain of communication buoys into orbit around Callisto and held his breath.

The space monitor was frowning at his console as they both waited for that final connection to click into place.

A moment and John’s face relaxed.

And Michael with it.

His own board flashed up with a connection confirmed through the chained micro-tunnel drives.

John hit his comms. “Tracy Island, this is Thunderbird Excel. Do you copy?”

They waited.

A heartbeat.

“Thunderbird Excel this is Tracy Island. Great to hear your voice, John.” Even Michael could hear the smile in Kayo’s voice. “I have a lot of green and pretty lights here. Send me the tests and I will bounce them back.”

“Sending now.” John’s fingers darted across his board and Michael watched the system take on the workload and churn data all the way back to Earth. “And I must say, Kayo, it is lovely to hear your voice, too.”

“Looking forward to hearing yours often. Data incoming. Will apprise results.”

“Looking forward to it, Thunderbird Excel out.” John’s fingers flicked again and the comms signal closed.

“Thunderbird Excel?” Michael arched an eyebrow at the astronaut.

John shrugged. “Well, I think she’s earned it now, don’t you?”

“Mmmm.” He looked back down at his board. The thought of having contributed to creating an actual Thunderbird...

He was startled when a shadow passed over his hands. “You’ve done well, Michael. Thank you.”

He looked up at the red-headed Tracy floating beside him. John was an enigma. He was a brother like any Tracy, but unlike the eldest who hated him with a passion that saw no border, John was quiet, even kind. Michael had been working alongside Brains and John and occasionally the youngest, for over a year now, and while he doubted he and John would ever be close friends, there was a mutual respect.

Plus, the distinct feeling that if Michael ever laid a finger on any of John’s brothers ever again, he would not survive the attempt.

It was definitely the quiet ones who should be worried about.

Not to mention Eos.

Michael really wished he could get his hands on that piece of code.

But again, he felt that it would be his last action in this universe.

Not that John had ever threatened him.

He didn’t need to.

“Are you feeling okay?” Turquoise eyes were peering down at him.

“I am well. No need to worry.”

The astronaut smiled. “Good. Monitor the comm network and liaise with Brains regarding the T-Drive’s performance. Let’s see if we can cut down on the jumps on the way back. I’d prefer to go through as little of the nausea as possible.”

“Agreed.”

John arched an eyebrow and his lips curled up. “I’ll be in Thunderbird Five assessing the danger zone and coordinating with Thunderbird Three.”

“FAB.”

The astronaut stared at him for just an extra moment longer before pushing off Michael’s console and throwing himself towards the cockpit exit.

“Thank you, John.”

A flicker of a smile and the last Tracy disappeared through the door, leaving Michael alone.

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated the IR spacesuits. They were far too tight and left nothing to the imagination.

Also, the red baldrics clashed horribly with his green stripe enough to rip his eyeballs out.

But although his standard uniform was satisfactory for short forays into space, it was not enough for a space mission of this magnitude as it did not have the survival and safety mechanisms needed in an emergency. So, here he was dressed like some kind of spandex wearing superhero, his heavy lifting muscles providing a great anatomy lesson to any within eyesight.

“Looking good, Virg.” Gordon’s eyes were laughing.

“Shut up, Fish.” The aquanaut was used appearing all but naked in front of thousands. Hell, Virgil had nothing to be ashamed of, it was just difficult to keep a straight face in a professional capacity.

How the hell John lived in one of these things was a mystery Virgil had no interest in exploring.

The alternative was wearing something like Alan’s spacesuit, but that had its own issues regarding his exosuit and despite the...exposure, this was the best option.

At least he had a little security with the addition of his exosuit support padding and his harness – never leave home without it. That and his baldric covered a little of his modesty.

Didn’t stop his brothers’ comments though.

Alan actually snorted in laughter.

Scott raised an eyebrow, but then their commander was dressed the same and, much like John, was giving the Greek gods a run for their money in the process.

Virgil felt like a dwarf from The Lord of the Rings. What was his name? Gam? Gim? Gimli? Standing next to that bleached elf.

Virgil grunted. “Let’s do this, already.”

Okay, the grin on Scott’s face was both worth it and damned annoying.

Dad had chosen a version similar to Alan’s suit. Due to his health concerns, Virgil had recommended extra support with arm guards and greaves built into his boots. He had glared at Virgil, but Virgil was a Tracy and just as stubborn as his father and if he wanted to go on this mission he could damn well meet him halfway.

Dad wore the protection.

They had Uncle Lee’s ‘space skivvies’ measurements on file and the IR fabricators had churned out an IR uniform echoing their father’s. Considering the astronaut’s skillset, Virgil had coloured his baldric stripe as green as his own and thrown in some of his own kit.

The colour combination still ripped out eyeballs.

Thunderbird Three was nestled into the Excel much like she had been into the XL, but higher up, leaving the massive thrusters behind her and nestling instead of providing the main superstructure of the craft.

To compensate for the loss of One and Two, the Excel now had a third engine on her dorsal plane to offset the two massive pectoral lightspeed engines. Together the three engines provided the huge ion thrust needed to propel them vast distances. And when the T-Drive was required, the third would go dark, the original two engines would flare up and give him his next case of nausea.

Three still connected with Five for extra stability, but she was no longer mandatory for the Excel. Where the XL had basically been an exosuit for Three to break the lightspeed barrier, the Excel was now more Five’s exosuit as she was the one Thunderbird the Excel needed to operate at her best.

Johnny’s ‘bird now had wings.

Very, very big ones.

The cockpit was crowded but quiet as Alan smoothly disengaged Three from the bigger craft, spinning her in space and pointing her towards the moon.

Virgil shifted in his suit, uncomfortable as hell. Not enough to be world ending, but annoying. Beside him, his father glanced in his direction with a concerned frown.

“Are you okay, son?”

That, of course, prompted an equally concerned frown from Scott in front of him.

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he could live with the suit. His arm was still aching and his stomach had yet to forgive him despite the food he had shoved into it, but he could probably get away with that.

The worst of it was the lack of sleep.

Scott’s eyes were far too knowing.

The medic in him knew that they were going into a potentially dangerous situation. Hell, they were in space right now, not exactly Tracy Island’s pool patio for relaxation. They needed to be alert and ready.

He had tried to sleep. He had sent all of his brothers to nap during the voyage out here. But he doubted any of them managed much.

He certainly hadn’t.

Scott knew because Virgil could see it reflected in those blue eyes of his. He still looked worn, though he tried to hide it, ever the professional.

Dad.

Dad was still looking at him with questioning eyes.

Virgil sighed. “I’m just tired. I can manage.”

Those lips pressed together, obviously displeased.

Typical.

His father was so like Scott in so many ways that having both of them to contend with on this mission was going to send Virgil grey.

It was okay for them to go out on a limb, risk their lives for the greater good, but if someone they cared about did the same, they were all worry and you can’t do that.

As if to emphasize that thought, his father’s frown fixated on Scott. Virgil followed his gaze, but from his angle could only see the back of his brother’s head.

Another glance at his father and the concern was clearly there.

Perhaps something was starting to sink into Dad’s head. Maybe he was realising what he was risking.

Who he was risking.

Three shook a little as she breached the minimal atmosphere of the moon. Alan was muttering orbital calculations. Each large planetary body was different and required a catered approach.

The Base had sent vectors and the conditions that constituted ‘weather’ on the barren moon, but there were many firsts in this mission and this was one of them.

For the benefit of the rest of them, Alan threw up a hologram of their approach.

The massive crater known as Asgard swelled on the screen. It was very bright, even in the weak sunlight. Probably ice. To the north of it lay an even brighter splash of white, rays extending out across the heavily cratered surface for miles.

As they sank, the horizon formed in a sharper curve than Virgil was used to. Sharper than Mars which was the only other planetary body beyond Earth’s Moon Virgil had ever set foot on.

“There it is.” Alan, ever enthusiastic in his element, pointed out a spot quickly growing on the display. “Callisto Base.”

It was a white cross with a massive airlock at its centre. Surrounding the arms of the cross was machinery, storage tanks and energy production facilities. It shone ever so bright, like a blunted star plastered on the side of the moon.

As they drew closer, the Tracy Industries logo could be seen branded across the airlock doors.

The base was a massive endeavour. Almost entirely underground taking advantage of a small crater in the Doh crater wall, it had capped the landform and sealed off the space creating a series of caverns to house the transport ships moving between the Base and the Jefferson or any other destination they chose.

Entirely self-sufficient, TI’s hydrogen technology gave it power, TI’s heavy duty excavation equipment gave them the power to dig the base out of the rock and ice. It had helped to find unexpected caves under the surface. All and all the Base was a robust structure, protecting its fifty-odd inhabitants from the hazards of living on an exposed and radiated moon.

“Callisto Base, Thunderbird Three requesting permission to dock.” Virgil was suddenly irrationally proud of his little brother.

Commander Walters answered immediately. “Permission granted Thunderbird Three. Hold in the airlock for repressurisation and permission to proceed.”

“FAB, Callisto Base.”

“One of these days, Jeff, you are going to tell me what that means.”

Both Alan and their father snorted.

As they approached, the big airlock doors slowly began to open, splitting the TI logo in half. The hologram stayed fixed on their destination, but Three pivoted her nose to the darkness of the sky bringing the ever-hovering presence of Jupiter back into view through Three’s windows. Alan flicked a wrist and the Thunderbird started lowering into what was now a gaping maw below.

Three slipped into the airlock and the doors closed behind them.

-o-o-o-

Alan was a professional, but he had to admit that he was internally bouncing around in joy. The air was still thick with tension, his family caught up in this thing with Dad, but Alan was doing his best to ignore it and focus on his job.

And oh my god, he was landing on his second moon of Jupiter! This had to be a first. He could go down in history as the first person to land on several moons, another planet and multiple random comets and asteroids.

Okay, so Virg and Scott had been with him, even Gordon on Europa – that had been one hell of a mission that still gave him both dreams and nightmares – but he had been the only one to land on all of them.

Alan Tracy, astronaut extraordinaire. He couldn’t help but grin as the airlock repressurised and the Callisto Commander finally gave him permission to land.

He slowed his ‘bird to a perfect touchdown as the secondary airlock doors closed above him.

He killed her engines and let her begin her cool down sequence.

The whole cockpit sighed a little in relief. A pause as if to reset and then everyone was moving.

-o-o-o-

Gray Walters rubbed the back of his neck as Thunderbird Three coasted smoothly from the decontaminating airlock into the main hangar. The pilot of that ‘bird had to be a Tracy. The huge red rocket barely fit nose to tail with only inches to spare between the two massive sets of doors. After all, they had never expected such a large craft needing to dock.

He had Kate to thank for arguing the hangar’s size...with Ju backing her up as usual.

The thought of his wife froze him for a split second. Ju was going to be okay. Jeff was here now. He had always been their good luck charm. Hell, the guy had survived eight years in space alone. Ju could manage a few days.

Couldn’t she?

“She’s docked.” Mary, his second, looked up from her station. “Shall I shunt her into a bay?”

“Leave her in central for now. We’re not going anywhere and they may need to leave in a hurry.”

“That will piss Benji off.”

“Benji can stew. His team still has a week left of their Jefferson rotation.”

“He will cite regs.”

Gray turned away. Let him cite regs. “This is an emergency and takes priority.” He sighed. “Run decon in the central core. Anyone not crucial to this operation is to steer clear of International Rescue. Lock off environmental systems. Keep the two crews contained to keep the risk of contamination as low as possible. We can’t afford an accidental bug in the system.”

“Will do.” She paused before bringing up the topic he knew she would. “What about Jeremiah?”

“What about him?”

“You need to tell them.”

“One thing at a time, Mary.”

“But-“

“First we find Kate and Ju.” He swallowed. They had to find Ju.

They had to.

-o-o-o-

Stepping onto a new world was never as grand as it appeared. Hell, landing on Mars for the first time had been a trip over his own toes’ moment.

Stepping onto Callisto was no different.

It was Scott who grabbed him before he could flip head over heels across the gantry. Changes in gravity always took time to get used to and less than twenty-four hours ago, it had been Earth oppressive.

Callisto gravity was a relief…if a little disorientating.

His eldest’s strong grip wrapped around his arm and held tight. Jeff looked over at Scott and was pinned with such worried bright blue eyes that his heart clenched.

All the tension, the argument, the resistance to his presence on this mission boiled down to the emotion in those eyes.

Love.

And fear.

Scott was terrified.

Jeff did it without thought or care for what anyone would think. He grabbed his son and yanked him into a hug, holding him close. The squawk across comms and the scrape of their helmets against each other did nothing to stop him.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“Uh...”

Scott’s arms wrapped around him, ever so hesitantly.

That hesitation hurt almost as much.

He clung that much tighter.

“Dad?” It was breathless.

He clung a second longer, but… Yes...right.

It was a moment stolen.

Because they were on a mission.

Jeff let Scott go.

His son pulled away slowly, not quite fully releasing him, and again those blue eyes were fixated on him in worry.

So much worry.

“You okay, Dad?”

Jeff straightened with more ease than he had managed in a long time and became aware of all the other eyes on him.

The ever-present echoes of Lucille’s beautiful brown eyes were assessing him. That was a given. But another two pairs of blue and a frowning fishy amber had him targeted as well.

He looked at each of them before turning back to the massive cavern around them. A mix of rock wall, structural support and storage, the docking cavern was lit with strong lighting, the red of Three reflecting on patches of frozen water embedded in the walls.

They were standing on a walkway that had been extended out to Three’s hatch. It was obviously of variable height and length and Jeff couldn’t help but admire the design.

He wondered who was responsible.

He wondered if it was Kate.

Her green eyes smiled at him at the back of his mind.

His lips pressed together as his sons and brother-in-law continued to shoot concerned expressions in his direction.

A breath.

“Let’s do this.” And he led them out and into Callisto Base.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #Jeff Tracy #John Tracy #the mechanic #callisto #Gordon Tracy

[bellesque]

Hi :) I had this idea, since I miss winter so much... could you maybe write a scenario in which Loki and the reader are in stark tower while it's raining or snowing? possibly getting a little cuddly and/or smutty? Thank you and by the way your fics give me lifeeee I literally could not survive quarantine without them

Blackout (Loki x Reader)

Rating: T

Word Count: honestly no clue i wrote this all on tumblr oops

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF, cuddles in the dark and thunderstorms that’s all it really is

A/N: i’m not really taking requests right now, but good golly miss molly did this idea make me soft i just had to. i hope you enjoy this little ficlet, and don’t mind the minor plot holes just shh we’re here for the fluff ok glad we’re in agreement <3

* * *

The entire city of New York is cast in a dull gray, so it’s no surprise that Stark Tower’s inhabitants are as gloomy as the world outside.

And that includes you.

You heave a long sigh, peering at the busy street and then skyward to the storm clouds that hang low. Every cab you hail drives past you with a sharp honk. You’re probably not going to make it home until after the storm. Shit.

“Mr. Stark says you can stay the night.”

Pepper Potts stands a few feet behind you, a gentle smile on her face. “He knows it’s hard to get a ride at this hour. Not to mention the storm warning has the whole city in a frenzy.”

You turn to walk back into the Tower with her. “Well, I’d be an idiot to refuse.”

Pepper lets out a short chuckle as the elevator dings. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not.”

Your room is next to Loki’s, she informs you before she leaves. Should he cause any trouble, you shouldn’t hesitate to let her or Tony know.

He doesn’t. Which is strange, for you at least, since every time you’ve been in the same room he’s always found some way to raise a little hell. Even when he isn’t wanted, he saunters in board meetings with a quip at the ready and a sly curve to his mouth. So it’s perfectly reasonable for you to have half your attention at the door, ready in case the mischief-maker comes barging in unannounced.

As your luck would have it, you’re in for a quiet evening.

You’re content to sit at the large windows of your room, watching the sky darken and the city lights flicker to life as the first huge drops of rain fall around it. It’s peaceful. Calming, even.

Until the windows rattle with the boom of thunder, and the fluorescent lights in your room flicker.

Your heartbeat slams against your ribs, a powerful surge of panic coursing through you. You’re a grown woman, damn it. You’re past the point of being afraid of a little lightning and thunder.

There’s a bright flash of white, a sickeningly quick crack of thunder, and a shriek, before the hum of the Tower goes dead silent and you’re in darkness.

Tony’s tech is powerful. There’s no way a measly thunderstorm is enough to kill the power.

Your eyesight adjusts to the change in lighting quickly, but you still stretch out a hand in front of you as you walk towards the door. Just in case there’s something in your way unseen to you. You barely make it three feet forward when a silky voice cuts through the quiet.

“Now, now, any further and you’ll find your hand on something you’ll not want to let go of.”

Quick as the thunderclaps before, you jerk your hand away. “Fucki — how did you get inside?”

“The door,” Loki answers. His silhouette is barely visible, but you can see and hear the amused smirk in his tone.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s raining, in case you haven’t noticed by now.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, about to retort. But whatever you plan on saying slips away from you entirely as another bolt of lightning and thunder propel you forward and towards Loki’s chest.

“Shit,” you mutter, cheeks heating as his masculine scent envelops you, “I’m sorry, I — ”

“Afraid of storms, it seems?” His voice is nearly drowned out as the winds pick up and the rain falls heavier and more relentlessly.

You swallow, shame gnawing at your ankles. “I’m not giving you any ammo, Laufeyson.”

His chest rumbles with genuine laughter, moving against your hair. Why... why are you still standing so close to him? And why is he letting you?

Loki rubs his hands along the tops of your arms. “Oh, little one, you already have,” he sighs, a smile in his tone.

His hand clasps around yours, a soft touch that you welcome begrudgingly. Despite that, you can’t stop yourself from mumbling, “What are you doing?”

Another flash allows you to catch the quirk of Loki’s eyebrow. “Do you not want the company? Because I can go and leave you here, alone, in the dark, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

Thunder rolls overhead, less of a sickening crack and more like a lazy rumble. The clouds are moving farther away, but the downpour of rain is still heavy.

You’d definitely prefer company, even if that company is an unpredictable, unreadable God of Mischief.

As if sensing your resignation, Loki leads you towards the couch that sits in the center of the room. The only time he lets go of your hand is when he plops down on the floor — not on the couch — facing away from the window. By now you’ve adjusted fully to the darkness, and your cheeks burn once more when you see Loki’s legs splayed open and hear his hands pat his thighs.

“Come on. The storm outside is far more threatening than I am.”

“You sure about that?” you deadpan, limbs moving of their own accord as you nestle yourself between his legs and against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady behind you, and while thick drops of rain continue to pellet against the window and winds sway the Tower, being encased by another human — well, a humanoid alien, but now’s not the time to be choosy — is significantly comforting.

Loki’s arms come around you protectively, and whether he means for it to come off as such or not, the skip in your chest is unmistakable. “I suppose you don’t want to talk about this completely irrational fear of yours,” he murmurs, gently guiding your head against his shoulder.

You scoff. “It’s rational.”

“Really.” There’s that smile in his voice. He brushes your hair away from your forehead. “Do tell.”

“You’re mocking me,” you dodge. Your tone is close to accusatory, but there’s barely any real bite in it.

“Maybe I am.” His fingers thread through your strands, twirling his finger around the ends. “And if I’m not?”

“I don’t understand you,” you say under your breath. It’s a defense, your attempts at verbal attack. Your fingertips are tingling from the casual intimacy. You need some semblance of normalcy, if that’s even within your reach at the current time. Your tiny crush was never supposed to blossom the way it is now.

His chest rumbles with a short chuckle, and he rests his cheek against the top of your head. Almost... no, completely affectionate. “Must be difficult, trying to comprehend the mind of a god.”

What’s difficult is keeping your heartbeat in control. Who knows what kind of teasing you’d endure if Loki could feel its staccato.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask quietly. The rain has slowed somewhat — it’s still strong, and loud, but it’s not as roaring, deafening as it was earlier.

“Have you forgotten, mortal? You came to me. Practically flung yourself into my arms, you poor damsel.”

“Shut up.” You shove him lightly, allowing yourself the tiniest of smiles. He can’t see. It’s fine. He can’t know you’re smiling.

But as the rain continues to pour and you remain nestled against Loki, easygoing banter between you, you begin to hope the blackout lasts the entire night if it means even just one more hour being held by him.

* * *

Masterlist

If you like what I write, maybe consider buying me a coffee?

Loki Tag List (OPEN): @cheriesugarr @shiningloki 

Want to be added to my tag lists? Check them out here.

#belle's drabbles #violetica #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fluff #this was inspired by the fact the power is so iffy where i live #I DON'T KNOW WHY #but hey at least something good came out of it #by belle #maybe the title is a reference to in the heights #and what if it is

[blurhawaii]

yuletide 2020

dear yuletide writer,

hello and happy yuletide! i’m pretty sure my letters get longer and longer every year and yet i’m still terrible at putting what i like into words. just know that the prompts are just suggestions--if you’ve got something else in mind, go for it. and sorry this is so disjointed.

likes:

dysfunctional relationships eg. codependency, messed up father/son dynamics, enemies to lovers, power imbalances.

vulnerability in men, uncertain intimacy.

UST, slow burn, first times.

magical realism/cosmic horror. weird hints of it in an otherwise normal universe.

redemption arcs.

found family.

big loyalty kink. love it when trust is earned and kept.

praise kink.

open and honest communication between partners.

polyamory. it’s the journey of them getting together and making it work that interests me the most. or how a couple goes about bringing in a third person.

stories set in canon. or a divergence of canon. fix-it fics.

dark/bleak fics. don’t be afraid to drag characters through the mud. happy endings are welcome but i like the struggle.

i’m fine with anything from gen to porn but would be happiest with something in the middle.

canon typical violence is fine and to be expected from some of my choices.

characters and their relationships are more important than plot for me.

dislikes:

AUs that are completely disconnected from canon e.g. high school, coffee shop AUs.

established relationships

crossovers

genderbending

feminisation of male characters

fics that are entirely fluff

A/B/O fics

PWP

mpreg 

first person fics (i have no problem with second person fics tho if you think that could work.)

The Departed (2006) *Billy Costigan                    *Sean Dignam

one of my favourite films ever. i request it every year so you can't really go wrong with this as i'm just thirsty for anything.

most of my love is for dignam and his tough love attitude towards his job and the undercovers he's responsible for. i am endlessly endeared by his wild card quality, expletive fueled speech and hair trigger temperament. the father/son relationship with queenan that’s contrasted against billy’s father/son relationship with queenan. his complete disregard for everyone else in that office, especially sullivan. and how despite all of that, it's obvious that he cares. i don't think you could do a job like that and not care, and it’s those few and rare moments where we see him soften around billy --we need you, pal-- that's what i would like to see more of. that juxtaposition of good cop/bad cop coming from the same guy. shipping fic is preferred but whatever you are comfortable with is fine. due to the nature of the film i am perfectly comfortable with violence and the screwed up relationship they are bound to have. the friction born of the situation vs the fact that they need each other to get through this is what i am all about.

things that really get me with these two: codependency, power imbalances, the enemies to lovers trope, vulnerability, the whole constructing intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men thing they have going on, as seen in the gif above.

fics where billy survives are my usual go-to. i'd love something that explores the angst of billy's ‘where the hell were you when i needed you’ reaction towards dignam following queenan’s death all the way up to the ending, and beyond that assuming billy lives.

i’ve spent far too much time thinking about the line --why don’t we just meet up, sweetheart, let me buy you an ice cream. the jokey seriousness of it just kills me. if you can somehow write that happening in a believable, in character fic you would earn my eternal respect. whether that’s a clandestine meeting during billy’s undercover period or some kind of post-film scenario where dignam makes good on his promises, i have no idea.

daemon au - very curious how this would impact going undercover. daemons expressing feelings that the characters otherwise can’t. the intimacy of touching/comforting each other’s daemons.

soulmate au - either having their names on each other or their first words. this is admittedly a longshot but interests me for the same reason the daemon au does, because i’d love to see how this would work in a universe where you’re undercover.

time loop/groundhog day fic where things go better. or worse, i guess.

Godless (TV 2017)

*Roy Goode              *Bill McNue               *Alice Fletcher

i’m a massive fan of westerns. the harsh way of life, the violence, the isolation, drawn out revenge plots, the murkiness of good vs evil or sheriff vs anti-hero, the importance of honour and heroism and how that differs for men and women, especially in this universe and its town full of widows. having said all that, i’m still very much a sucker for cool cowboys in a shallow female way.

my favourite thing to do is turn every love triangle into an ot3. so i’d love a fic post canon where roy comes back once he realises his found family is just as important as his real family. i imagine bill would try to do the gentlemanly thing of bowing out and letting roy and alice be together but i’d love for alice to have the agency of choice, getting to have her cake and eating it too by choosing both roy and bill. however you jigsaw them together my main thing here is that i don’t want bill to get left out.

i feel the roy/bill aspect in particular could be explored a lot more. i love the earned mutual respect and how easily they move around each other during the gunfight at the end. (bill’s deteriorating eyesight side plot fascinates me, how it goes with his loss of purpose and comes back when teaming up with roy to defend the town.) the usual ideas of western masculinity get all twisted around when roy and bill are in the presence of alice and they both seem kind of subby towards her, which yes please. the way alice kisses the scar she gave roy and the fact that he simply lets her is *chef kiss*

i’m actually very okay with letting them be soft with each other after all of their tragedy.

honest communication between partners could work wonders here.

Locke (2013)

*Ivan Locke                            *Donal

i honestly think this film is an underappreciated masterpiece. a hour and a half long car ride that's totally compelling, and it's all down to tom hardy and his welsh accent that's not even welsh. of all the relationships broken down, strengthened, or tentatively started, it's the one between ivan and donal that interests me the most. you're given just enough background to know there is a history between these two. whether donal is his right hand man on the project or is just an assistant that effectively gets promoted because he's the only one still there willing to take ivan's call. either way, there's trust there, on top of the shared knowledge of donal's capacity to get drunk on the job --this has clearly been a problem before-- but ivan still trusts him enough to get his baby of a building built when he can't be there personally, and that fascinates me.

the film ends very much in a lurch and i can't bring myself to see the ending in a positive light. a baby with a woman he doesn't particular like is not a recipe for a fresh start and i honestly can't see ivan not following up on the progress of his building.

i have this image of ivan sleeping on donal's couch because his wife won't take him back, bethan realises she just wants the baby and not him, he's lost his job and he has nowhere else to go and so he's just backseat driving this buildings construction through donal’s position. you've got this man who's lost everything and an alcoholic just wallowing together, maybe clinging to the idea that with this buildings success, they can fix themselves.

i also ship it and if you manage to take it in that direction i would be totally into that too. i guess i'm just looking for something post film with these two.

i don't know anything about concrete farming tho so feel free to fudge that as much as you need to.

The Boys (TV 2019)

*Billy Butcher                          *Homelander

what i like about this show is that it’s dark, it’s violent and the relationships between the characters are about as fucked up and convoluted as you can get. i am specifically interested in the relationship between billy and homelander and how the power is constantly shifting. i’d love something that just takes into account every horrible reason why they want to kill each but also all the reasons why they haven’t. ship fic is more than welcome.

details that interest me the most:

all the bizarre family dynamics - their shared bad relationships with their fathers. loved the scene where billy learns about homelander’s childhood and how that tiny humanising moment might affect his view of the man. especially in season 2 where we see them both interacting with ryan. love the inverse of homelander trying to be a good dad and billy wanting absolutely nothing to do with the kid. i wish we could have seen more of the dynamic immediately following the cliffhanger at the end of season 1. what happened between that moment and billy waking up somewhere else. maybe some kind of bizarre hostage situation family in this small suburban home.

i am fascinated by the idea of having the buffer of both becca and ryan between them. not being able to kill each other at the end of season 1 because of the deal becca made, and then again at the end of season 2 with homelander not wanting to be seen as a villain in front of ryan. maybe billy doesn’t ship ryan off at the end of season 2. maybe he thinks he can keep him safest by raising him himself and you get this weird co-dadding situation where the kid is the only thing keeping them from killing each other.

the public cleaning of the slate post-season 2 with billy not being a wanted man any more and homelander having to appear as a united front with the seven. would love something with billy pushing things in public because homelander can’t do anything about it.

homelander’s desperation to be loved. the potential of obsessive one sided relationships.

thank you writer and best of luck.

#yuletide #yuletide 2020

[fullmetalscullyy]

Could you write something where Riza has a miscarriage and Roy takes it a lot harder than anyone thought he would and when Ed and Winry come with their kids to check up on them, roy freaks out and has a meltdown and blames himself for it says people he love always die and Riza has to calm him down?

this was a really hard one for me bc its something i’ve never lookedinto (or experienced) however it has happened in my family and i’ve drawn onthat experience for this piece

tw: miscarriage

“We’re expecting,” Roy had told everyone, beamingproudly with his arm around his wife. He’d been so excited about the news heliterally couldn’t contain himself and told everyone he could. Although therewere reservations regarding this path they were now on, he heeded advice fromRiza on this one. Of course, she was always right.

If Maes Hughes could return from the war and manage to find happiness,why couldn’t they? It wasn’t in their character to let themselves be happy,especially after everything they’d done. They didn’t deserve a child, they bothagreed on that, however what had happened had happened and now they had to livewith it.

That little ray of hope and happiness stayed with them for about twomonths before it petered out to nothing but darkness.

Just like everything Roy had ever touched.

Riza had awoken in the night, gripping his bicep so hard that thebruises still remained two weeks later.

“Wha –? Riza? What is it? What’s wrong?” he’d asked,panicked.

“I don’t know,” she’d whispered before doubling over inpain. Roy threw back the sheet to discover a worryingly large pool of bloodstaining the white sheets. Their eyes met - horror meeting desperation - andRoy hopped out of bed, moving around it to throw Riza’s arm over his shouldersas he helped her walk to their car.

She never once stopped clutching her stomach.

“A miscarriage,” the doctor had said. Roy had barelyregistered it because that couldn’t be true. No, Riza wouldn’t have had amiscarriage. She couldn’t have. Their child… “We’re almost finished,”the doctor explained. “I’ll be back when she’s ready to see you.”

He’d waited for three hours.

Three hours in that waiting room, all alone, with only the wordmiscarriage floating around in his head. He’d felt completely numb. There wasno word in any language to correctly articulate what he was feeling.

All Roy knew was Riza falling pregnant had been too good to be true allalong. And, just like everything else Roy Mustang came into contact with, itturned to ash.

Just imagine Roy having to go around telling people that they were nolonger expecting.

Miscarriage.

The sympathy was unimaginable and there were constantly offers fromtheir friends to visit as they passed on their condolences.

“If there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”

Rewind back the last twenty years so that Riza Hawkeye never met RoyMustang, so she could live a happy life, and not the cursed one she’d besubjected to by his side.

There was no way he’d leave Riza to pass on the news. After all, he’dbeen unable to keep his big fat mouth shut and told everyone before the twelve-weekmark.

He’d just been so excited.

He’d finally done something good and given Riza what she wanted but haddenied herself for years because of her actions. Roy felt like he’d finallydone something good in his life and this was how he’d been repaid.

“Go home, Roy,” Riza had urged him from her hospitalbed. She’d taken the news hard, but apparently not as hard as him.

Their child was gone.

“Roy, please,” she’d pleaded, grabbing his hand tightlyto try and coax him out of his self-destructive thoughts. “Go home andrest.”

Apparently, he’d been staring off into space because when he came aroundand finally looked her in the eye for the first time since receiving the news,there was a nurse next to his wife, also looking extremely concerned.

“I’m fine.”

No, she wasn’t. She’d just lost their child.

Miscarriage.

Roy did go home, and it was one large blur. He’d sat on the armchair bythe window - a chill emanating from it that coated him and coaxed goosefleshonto his skin - and hadn’t moved until the sun rose three hours later.

Miscarriage.

Once the sun was up, he was back at the hospital. One look at Riza andhe knew she could tell he’d been unable to sleep. Hell, Riza knew he hadn’teven tried.

She knew him so well.

Twoweeks had passed since then and the Elrics were on their way to Central tovisit. Roy had passed on the news. It was nice to do it over the phone becausehe didn’t see the sympathetic look on anyone’s face. He’d had enough of thatfor one lifetime.

Butwhen Edward and Winry showed up at the door with their two kids, that had been too much for him.

“Howare you doing?” Edward asked as Roy stood frozen in the doorway, eyes locked onthe infant in Winry’s arms. That question was worse, especially from Ed. Therewas no sarcasm, no scathing remark or nickname, only real sympathy.

Thatwas so much worse. It was so far from the familiar that it made this situationsuddenly very, very, real. The infantand young boy looking expectantly up at him only added fuel to that fire.

“Hey,Mustang?” Ed called but it surrounded oh so very far away. “You okay?” Hisvision tunnelled and greyed around the edges, his breathing picking up as hecontinued to stare at the baby who’d just yawned in her mother’s arms.

Miscarriage.

You ruineverything you touch.

“Roy?”Riza’s voice managed to break through and into his mind. Her arms were placedon his shoulders, meant as a comfort, however he shrugged them off violently.

No,she couldn’t touch him. If she did, he would hurt her again, just like he alwaysdid.

EverythingRoy loved was hurt by his actions in the end. He couldn’t do it to Riza again.She deserved so much more. She deserved so much better than him.

Blindly,Roy moved through the house, blocking out the concerned shouts from the frontdoor. He stumbled, shoulders banging into walls hard enough to leave a bruise.His hand hit a door handle in passing and pain flared at his wrist, but Roy didn’tfeel it. All he knew was this crushing weight on his chest and the darkness ofhis vision.

Hefell to the floor, slumping down the wall in his dark study. The door closed softlybehind him, leaving him in the pitch black.

Itreminded Roy of his brief time being blind. Every day he’d open his eyes and panicbecause he couldn’t see anything, then reality would set in. His eyesight hadbeen unjustly taken from him however the only thing he’d been able to thinkabout was how he’d never see Riza Hawkeye again. She was the first person he’dseen when his vision returned and he vowed to himself that after the PromisedDay, he would do everything in his power to make her happy.

Thatincluded giving her a child.

He’dfailed at that too.

So,in that dark room, his panic doubled as his chest felt like it was tearing intwo because they’d lost their child. He’d only known about it for two monthsand he would have died for that child. Granted, it was still only a foetus, butto know that they’d finally begun to create something good, only to have it ripped away…

Thatpanic and crushing despair was what he deserved.

Whenarms encircled Roy, he begun to protest.

“Leaveme alone,” he’d whispered brokenly to the darkness.

“No,”Riza replied.

Thatcaused him to struggle even further because she couldn’t be near him. He’d onlyhurt her again.

“Roy,please, stay still.” Her own voice was thick with emotion as her hold remained.“Please, I… I need to hold you,” she replied desperately.

“Why?”he whispered, and he felt Riza pause. “I only hurt you.”

“Thiswasn’t your fault,” she replied,adamant. Roy scoffed. “These things happen –”

“Yes,but they always happen to you, and it’sonly when I’m involved.”

Rizahushed him. “If I agreed with that, I’d have left you a long time ago. There’sa reason I stayed.”

“Whatis it then?” he asked, tone bitter. He was truly curious because since the newsof their loss he was still trying to figure it out. He hadn’t touched her, hadn’tbeen near her, and Roy knew Riza was hurt by it. He’d overheard her on thephone to Catalina, worrying that she was no longer desirable to him since she’dmiscarried. He’d broken down then. But he’d done it alone.

Shehad it all wrong. It was he who feltunworthy of her.

“Yourcompassion and your drive to right the wrongs of this world,” she began, brushinga hand through his hair. She’d brought his now unresisting head to lay againsther chest as she cradled him to try and calm him down. “Your ability to see thebigger picture and determination to do right by those you have wronged. You don’t shy away from your sins, like me, youembrace it and try every day to try and absolve yourself of them.” Riza shiftedon the floor to try and become more comfortable. “I could list more but we’d behere all day,” she added, a small smile appearing on her face.

“Thisis a setback,” she whispered, placing a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m justas hurt and disappointed as you, but this isn’t the end. We’ll try again. The doctorran some tests this afternoon and the results will be in soon. Then we can seeour options.

“Whydidn’t you tell me you were going?” Roy asked, head shooting up.

“Youwere working,” she reasons, although her answer came a little too quick, herexpression schooled a little to quickly. There was more than she was lettingon. It was probably because she didn’t trust him there with her. Roy wouldn’t blameher after his behaviour the last two weeks.

“We’llbe fine,” she whispered, bringing his head back down to her chest. Roy wrappedboth arms around her middle, feeling more secure in both himself and theirfuture as husband and wife. “We’ll work through this. Together.”

Royhoped so, because he didn’t know what he would do if he failed her again.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #ask #anon #writing prompts #fic request #emma writes

[quillreflections]

Title: Electric Blue

Chapter: 5

Series: Yugioh GX

Pairing: Chazz/reader

disclaimer: I wrote this when I was feeling Bad so it’s kinda sadder than the others

Are you hiding, somewhere behind those eyes?

You know you shouldn't be watching, shouldn't be listening.

It's a personal matter between them. It has nothing to do with you.

But honestly, you'd been looking for Chazz anyways; you'd stuck some quarters in a capsule machine in the hopes of a cool prize, but you'd ended up with an Ojama pendant charm instead. He uses those cards, right?

As you'd passed the conference room on your way to your next class, hearing Chazz's voice had slowed your pace. And then his voice cracked, and he sounded legitimately upset- you'd pressed yourself up against the wall to listen. He wouldn't take well to you walking in, but you're certainly not going to walk off, either.

"We told you this before you enrolled, Chazz. Either you're at the top, or you're not even part of the running." Who was that? You'd never heard his voice before.

"Hey, you have to understand-"

"There are no excuses, Chazz." Another voice cuts him off; damn, how many of them are there? "If you keep it up at this rate, you'll ruin our names, and everything we've worked so hard to build."

The first voice pipes up again.

"We're pulling you out, Chazz."

Even from outside the room, you can hear Chazz inhale sharply. His voice is quiet and icy when he responds.

"You can't do that to me. I'm- I'm not here for y-"

"Yes, you are." The sounds of a chair scraping back, someone standing up. "It's for the best, brother, just like everything we've ever done for you."

"Don't lie to my face like that! All you've ever done for me has really been for yourselves, and we all know it!" You hear Chazz slam his fists against the table and then, presumably, shove his chair back and stand to face his brother.

You lean your head against the wall, listening intently, dangling that small, silly Ojama charm in front of your face.

He wouldn't want it. He might think you're mocking him. Besides, if he was leaving the school- if you were never going to see him again, you should get him something special.

The harsh sound of a slap pulls you from your thoughts.

"Now, brother. You know I never want to do that. But you shouldn't question us; do you have any idea what we've gone through to take care of you?" The voice is sickly sweet and mocking. The other man speaks up too.

"Chazz, you know we care. We've both worked so hard to get to where we are, so that we can help you make something of yourself too. You don't want to ruin what we've spent our entire lives on, do you?"

Chazz whispers something, and although you can't hear it, the other two men hum favorably.

"There's a good little brother."

Chazz's voice catches, and you can hear him stumbling over his words.

"Slade, Jagger, I'm sorry-" There's an underlying note of panic to his words. "Please, please, please let me finish out this year! I promise I'll do better- and just one year, even if I end up failing, won't ruin the two of you. Not that I'll fail-" he hastily adds that last part.

His apparent brothers mutter amongst themselves for a moment before one of them replies.

"Only this year, Chazz. And don't expect any more favors from us when you drive your future into the ground."

At that, you hear them all shuffling their stuff, and footsteps approach the door; remembering that you shouldn't be caught listening in, you dart around the next corner of the hallway you've been standing in, hoping they don't catch a glimpse of you.

Standing in the empty hallway, their voices echo eerily as they mockingly wish their brother goodbye.

You stay ducked around the corner for a moment before creeping back to the door. Chazz hasn't stepped out yet; you can hear him breathing heavily, and then he sniffles loudly, and a small whine makes its way from his throat before growing to a lonesome wail.

You can't just stand here and listen to this.

Cautiously, you bring your hand up and knock on the door, not waiting for a response before stepping in. Seated at the professional table, Chazz jerks up from where he'd laid his head in his hands. Although he glares as if he wishes you'd combust, he's still crying- his face is red, and when his sleeves fall a bit, you can see angry scratch marks on his wrist as well.

"What the hell do you want, [Name]?!" He tries to spew venom, but his voice cracks. Embarrassed and knowing he feels too vulnerable being seen like this, you avert your eyes and sit across from him.

"I don't want you to leave, Chazz."

He lets out a wheeze, and even that manages to sound sarcastic and bitter. "I don't need your pity!"

"It's not pity-" you retort, and he sneers at you through his tears. "We're friends, Chazz. You're important to me."

"Oh, please." He goes to rub his eyes with his sleeve, but notices the visible scratches and tugs his sleeve down instead. "You don't actually care. You just want access to whatever pull my family has, just like all the others." He glares at you again. "Name your price. What will it take to get rid of you."

You sigh heavily, closing your eyes for a moment. When you open them again, you're glaring at him with twice the intensity he'd focused on you.

"Chazz Princeton, if you're right about all your other friends only being superficial, why won't you accept a real one?"

You lean forward over the table, reaching out to touch the visible handprint on his face, where his brother had slapped him. He recoils, so you lower your hand. Your eyes soften at him.

"It hurts me that you don't consider us friends when I do."

His dark gray eyes start watering all over again. He looks away from you and down at the table.

"I don't want to get any closer because there's nothing I can do to stop my brothers." He reaches for the hand you'd extended to him, gently bringing it up to his face, still stinging from the hit and wet with tears. "I don't know why, but I want to believe you, [Name]."

Chazz's mind is absolutely racing as he admits to that, and his heart starts beating wildly; he can't bring himself to open his eyes yet, in case you're looking at him like he's lost it. That would ruin him.

No, for now, he just wants to enjoy your touch- it's definitely not under the circumstances he'd hoped for, but it's still nice. When you start rubbing your thumb across his stinging cheek, his breath hitches for a second, and he opens his eyes again; your gaze is filled with something he doesn't recognize, but it's warm and genuine and sparks something in him.

You're telling the truth.

As if yanked right out of a spell, Chazz suddenly lets go of your hand and turns his head away. "D- don't you go telling anyone about this, [Name]!"

You laugh at the sudden return of his hot-and-cold personality. That means he's fine- or, you realize sadly, he's used to this.

"Don't worry, Chazz. We're friends. Nobody could get this from me if they tore it right outta my throat." Remembering the entire reason you'd stumbled upon this messy scene, you reach into the pocket of your uniform and pull out the small Ojama charm. "Hey, I got this and it reminded me of you!"

Chazz falters for a moment, mildly stunned that you ever thought about him when he wasn't in eyesight. He gently takes the pendant from you and holds it up to look at.

". . . it's really ugly." He chuckles. You pout at him.

"Hey, if you don't want it, I'll just go give it to Jaden-"

"Now I never said that!" Chazz closes his fist around the charm and holds it close. "I'm gonna keep this stupid thing forever. Just. . . somewhere nobody else will ever see it."

The two of you laugh, and then from above, the school bell rings. As you and Chazz step out of the conference room, he turns to you once more.

"[Name]-" he stops, searching for the right words, "listen, just forget everything. If we could pretend this never happened. . ."

Your face is serious. "Chazz. I respect you as a friend, but what I heard- this is heavy. I don't want to just ignore it, and then it gets so big it can't be fixed." He opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. "If you don't want to discuss it often, fine, I can respect that. But like I said, you're my friend, Chazz. I want you to lean on me."

The bell rang again, cutting off whatever he was going to say next. You muttered a hasty goodbye, and as Chazz watched your retreating form until you were out of sight, he realized that he might have just fallen a lot harder than he'd originally intended.

#electric blue #chazz princeton #yugioh #gx

[tjroewrites]

Natural Selection

Pairing: Castiel x OC!Fallon Fawkes

A/N: I started this one-shot with a certain ending in mind but it took off in a totally different direction. This felt way more natural with the scene. Supposed to take place after the events of my fic. Which I’m still working on. Fallon wouldn’t act this way before everything went down. But this is something that helped me shape her as a character. 

Prompt: Callon (I know, I’m dumb) has finished up a hunt in an Oregon beach town. Castiel gets an idea. 

Warnings: Baby sea turtles. That’s all I’m gonna say.

Word Count: 2.1k (lol)

           The last vamp nest had taken its toll on then.

           Most times, it was a cakewalk. Castiel would smite a few; Fallon would start swinging her machete around. Save some vics; reunite a couple families. Easy-peasy. But most times the nest was small-ball. Not this time.

           Gold Beach was on her side of the states. Maybe six hours from her hometown in Oregon. It was a tiny little beach town. About as small as Lakeview. She’d never been, but she’d heard plenty of stories. Tight-knit community. Good people. Not a lot of trouble to find out there.

           Which was why the idea of the mother of all vamp-hives being located no more than half a mile from the town marker was a bit shocking.

           They’d just gotten through talking with a dad whose daughter they’d just pulled from the nest. No more than fifteen years old. The girl was damn near cold by the time they’d cut their way through the abandoned warehouse. If Fallon had been hunting alone, she’d be delivering a dead body to his door step. Lucky for the girl, there was at least one angel that still gave a shit about humans. God only knows why.

           The town’s main road actually ran alongside the ocean. If you pulled onto the shoulder and jumped from the car, your feet would hit sand. White, fluffy sand. Like a cloud on a warm summer day. Not like the swamp-muck shit they had over near Hat Creek. It looked so much different than those sappy movies they played on TV. It was the first time she’d seen it in person.

           They passed by one spot in particular on their way out of town. A giant boulder sat right at the lip of the shore. Every time the tide rolled in the waves would crash into it, forcing white spray in every direction in the most dramatic fashion. Then it would slide over the stone and weave through the cracks back to the sand. Over and over again. Roll, crash, slide. Roll, crash, slide. It was kind of relaxing to watch.

           Castiel slowed the truck down and veered off the asphalt, the tires hitting gravel along the shoulder. He insisted on driving them back to Lebanon since she’d gotten them there. And now she was paying the price. “What are you doing?” She groaned.

           He wiggled the shifter into neutral and fumbled with the emergency brake. The truck jolted a bit. He’d gotten good with shifting but parking a manual still wasn’t his specialty. “Stopping.”

           “Yeah, not very well.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, why are we stoppin’? It’s damn near dark and we still haven’t cleared the cliffs yet.”

           “Just because you cannot see five feet in front of you does not mean my eyesight is poor.” He climbed out and shut the door, striding around the front of the truck in that wide-leg stride he always did. Arms out slightly. Head bobbing up and down. She jumped out of the cab and planted her boots in the gravel. “My vision is just as clear at night as it is during the day.”

           Fallon scoffed. “My eyes work just fine. Just don’t like drivin’ mountain roads in the dead of night.”      

           “So you allowed that vampire to nearly tear out your jugular vein back at the warehouse.” He tilted his head to the side and raised a brow. “It wasn’t because you could not see nor hear him. I was forced to come to your rescue just for fun, correct?”

            The creep had popped up out of nowhere. She’d spent too long making sure one vamp was dead and not long enough trying to figure out where the next one was. Too much noise, not enough light. Her ears had still been ringing from the last blood sucker to hear another snarl behind her back. She was seconds away from becoming the next Dracula before Castiel plucked him out of thin air. “He’d’ve gotten his share. Was just givin’ him a bit of false hope for his last few seconds on Earth.”

           Castiel chuckled and shook his head. Then he started out into the sand. His dress shoes left imprints with every step.  

           “What are you doing?” She asked for the second time. He knew how much she hated being ignored. Drove her crazy. Why did he insist on doing that? He turned back and smiled. The sunset cast a vibrant light around his head like a halo. She forgot how to breathe for one long-ass second.

           “I think we have earned a moment of peace.”  

.           The air was even thicker near the water’s edge. Castiel had suggested she take off her boots. She had suggested for him to shut his trap. But then he’d given her that look. The one where his stare glazed over and turned doe-like. His chapped lips puckered slightly. Dean called it the ‘puppy dog pout.’ Fallon called it the ‘bitch’s way out.’ But there she was, holding her boots in her hand, bare feet walking beside a shoeless Castiel along the damp shoreline. She’d say no next time. She swore on it.

           They were quiet for a while. The scene spoke for itself. The slap of the waves against the sand was something she never thought she’d enjoy, the white foam tickling the thin layer of skin on top of her feet as it rushed over. They had both rolled their pants up but the water still nicked the fabric a couple times. The sand squished between her toes with every step. The salty wind blew through her hair and pulled loose strands from underneath her bandana. The air was like a thick blanket draped over their shoulders. For the first time in a long while, she couldn’t find one thing to bitch about. She let her eyes close for a minute while she breathed it all in. But when she opened them again, something caught her eye.

           “The hell’s that?” She pointed at a deep hole farther up from the lip of the shore. There weren’t many holes out here, just dents and footprints, but this one stood out. Castiel looked down at her as she strode toward it, her right leg dragging a bit more with her increased speed.

           “A hole.” He said. He wasn’t wrong. It was what was inside of it that had her damn near splitting apart at the seams.

           “Holy shit.” She stared down at the hole. Inside were ten or twelve baby turtles.

           Baby. Freaking. Turtles.

           Real living and breathing (did turtles even breath?) animals. Not the little bath toys you see kids throwing around in a tub. Not the cartoon ones from that ‘Finding Nemo’ show. No, no. These were the real deal. The whole nine yards. The turtles were scampering into each other like bumper cars, desperate for a way out. But the hole was too deep. And they were tiny little things. They flapped their fins like they were trying to fly.  

           “Sea turtles.” Castiel confirmed, his knees hitting the sand a foot from the nest. Fallon followed suit. “They are attempting to make their way to the ocean to begin their life cycle.”

           “But they can’t get out.” Fallon waved her hand at them. What kind of mother sets her kids up for failure like that? “How’s a sea turtle s’posed to live if it can’t even get to the sea?”

          “Some nests do not survive the first stage.” Castiel sighed. “Charles Darwin was correct in his studies. Natural selection plays a primitive role in this world.”

           “So, what, we just let ‘em die?”

           “It is best not to interfere with the nest. It could confuse them further.”

           Castiel made to get up. For a very rare moment, she actually felt her heart clench. A heavy weight right on her chest. Her eyes burned in their sockets. Fuck Charles Darwin.

           Her hands dug into the sand, breaking away the lip of the nest and building some kind of ramp with her fingers. A few of the baby turtle’s flippers grazed her skin as she worked. They felt like gently worn leather with a soft finish. The sand clumped underneath her fingernails.

           “Fallon, what are you doing?”

           “I might be a cold-hearted bitch, but I ain’t gonna watch these turtles become some bird’s evening snack.” They were moving now, flapping a bit more wildly at the foreign hands working around them. “You gonna stand there and supervise or you gonna get down here and help me?”

           For a second she didn’t think he’d do it. Castiel had a big heart, but he was also methodical. There was a rhyme or reason to everything. Natural selection definitely fell into that category. But no more than a minute later he was down next to her, scooping sand out of the nest like his life depended on it. They broke the nest wall with a couple more handfuls. Then the race began.

           They moved quick after that. Waving their fins like mad in a dash to get to the water. Little ripples of sand trailed behind them as they swam through the grains. Fallon and Castiel had to actually move out of the way to avoid their frantic crawl. One after another, each one followed the next. It was a clumsy dance. Not very graceful. But if it wasn’t the prettiest waltz she’d ever seen. Her smile widened as she watched them run, their tiny little bodies blindly wading over the land until they finally hit home. They flopped a bit in the wake before disappearing under the water. She hardly noticed the tear sliding down her cheek as it all unfolded in front of her.

           If this had been a year ago, she would’ve kept on walking. Told herself the same bullshit Castiel had argued about natural selection. Or something close to it. If they couldn’t make it on land, how were they supposed to survive in the sea? Better to struggle on your own than to rely on an extra hand to help out. Can’t count on anyone. But now, sitting with her toes dug into the sand, her blonde hair stained with vamp blood and the sea spray in her face she felt something… different. That maybe, sometimes, people needed help. Like those turtles needed help getting to the ocean. Like that girl needed help from that vamp nest. Like she had needed help all those months ago.

           Her eyes fell to Castiel. He was watching the turtles crawl across the sand, his lip tugged up in one corner. His eyes shone a brighter blue than the ocean stretched out in front of them. But that’s how they always were. Bold and deep, a never-ending pool that always seemed to see right through her bullshit. The same ones that stared right through her on Mount Nebo when she let him heal her for the first time. The same ones that stared back at her when she asked for a socket wrench to tighten the Chevelle’s lug nuts. Every monster, every case, every car ride worth remembering: it all came down to those bright blue eyes. They’d been there through everything.

           He noticed the tears. And when he raised one of those callused hands to wipe them away with his thumb, she didn’t even stop him. Her cheek burned hot under his touch. But it was the sweetest burn she’d ever felt. She leaned into his hand and his chest stopped mid-rise under his suit jacket. His lips parted. She licked her own.

           She couldn’t remember telling her body to move. She was sure she hadn’t. She didn’t need to. Like pure instinct her lips landed on his and the entire world stopped spinning. Every moment came tumbling down. Every sleepless night he’d helped her through. Every time he’d saved her ass. Every time she’d saved his. It all crashed down like the waves on the shore as their lips moved as one. When they broke apart it was only a few inches, breathing each other’s air and staring at the other like they were a lifeline. His eyes shone down on her like a second moon. She was bathed in his glow.

           “Hey, Blackbird.” You could hardly hear it above the waves. He let out a breathless laugh and slid his fingers into her hair. Her bandana slid off somewhere behind her. His other hand found her neck and traced her pulse point with his thumb. Breathing became difficult. When he answered it was a whisper against her lips, his eyes half-closed and his head tilted a bit to the side. The tip of his nose grazed her own and she sighed.

           “Hey, Falcon.”  

#castiel x original character #castiel x fallon fawkes #supernatural #supernatural oneshot #spn one shot #sea turtles #lmao idk #natural selection #the callon collection

[shions-heart]

((happy belated birthday to the wonderful and talented @ichigomaniac !!! I’m glad you had such a great day. XD This little fic isn’t much, but I hope you like it. /)u(\ <333))

this takes place in my Being Human AU, set after The Awakening

(semishira, rated T for violence and mild suggestiveness at the end)

The roars of the hell beasts shake the buildings surrounding Semi Eita, as he struggles to maintain his balance. Gritting his teeth, he wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist, the magic spear in his hand thrumming with energy. The hell beasts in front of him shuffle around in the tight space of the alley, lifting their long snouts to sniff the air. Their eyesight is better at night, so Semi’s grateful for the light of day. But daylight doesn’t negate their sense of smell, and he knows that before long they’ll find him. He has to strike before that happens.

Twirling his spear slowly, he calculates the distance between them. There are at least four of them, the others scattered about the city. Semi’s team had to split up in order to chase them all down. Semi paired up with Shirabu, as they are wont to do, but in the chaos they lost track of each other. Semi can sense him, though, through their bond. He’s frustrated but unhurt. He doesn’t need Semi’s help.

Semi tells himself he doesn’t need help, either.

With another roar the first hell beast charges, claws digging into the pavement and leaving dark grooves in their wake. Semi calls upon his magic and leaps straight into the air, flipping over the hell beast’s head; he lands on its back and drives the tip of his spear directly into the back of its skull. With a scream, it dissipates into black smoke, causing Semi to fall through onto the ground. He coughs, waving his hand in front of his face to dispel the smoke.

When he looks up, the three other hell beasts are almost on top of him.

“Shit,” he mutters, quickly rolling out of the way of a massive foot.

“Pitiful little human,” a voice from above cackles. “Did you honestly think you could take on four of my pets all by yourself?”

Semi glances up with a frown. Leaning against a balcony railing three floors up is a demon. It leers down at him with a mouth full of sharp teeth. Its tail flicks back and forth, as its wings rustle slightly in the wind. It whistles, and Semi doesn’t have a chance to throw his spear, before he’s knocked back onto the ground, a large claw on his chest. The weight presses into him, crushing his ribs, but he manages to stab the claw with his spear. The hell beast yelps, moving off him, and Semi jumps to his feet.

“If you’re controlling these creatures, that means all I have to do is banish you, and they’ll disappear,” he shouts, grinning slowly.

“You’re welcome to try,” the demon says with a smirk, before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke.

Semi can feel the dark energy in the air shift, and he turns around just in time for the demon to appear, claws outstretched. Semi bats them away with his spear, backing up, but now he’s surrounded. Calling upon his magic, he forms a sword in his other hand, slicing down at the tail that snaps at him. The demon shifts it away just in time and whistles.

Semi spins away, as the hell beast behind him nearly crushes him to the ground once more. His back hits the wall of the alley, and a moment later he cries out in pain, as the demon’s tail pierces his side, pinning him back against the wall. He brings his sword up, but the demon grabs his wrist, forcing him to release the sword, as its claws dig into his skin. Semi releases the spear, reshaping it, but before he can utter the spell, the demon’s other hand covers his mouth.

It leans in close, licking its lips slowly with a glistening black tongue.

“You’re mine, witch,” it whispers.

Semi glares back at it, trying to think of what he can do. The pain in his side feels like fire burning him from the inside out. He’s sweating, dizzy; his wrist is bleeding, and the stench of the demon’s skin makes his eyes water.

But he’s not going to give up.

As the demon leans forward, mouth opening wide, he jabs his knee upward into its stomach. It hisses and withdraws, just enough for Semi to grab its tail and yank it out of his side. He covers the wound with his hand, twisting away from the demon’s grasp to stumble toward the alley’s entrance.

It’s then that he feels it, through the haze of pain, the anger building, sharp and hot. He can’t help but smirk, as the demon reorients itself and turns back toward him.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Semi says, as he feels the weight of dark energy grow stronger. This time, however, it’s not coming from the demon.

Shirabu leaps over Semi’s head, golden magic crackling around him. The demon doesn’t have time to react, before Shirabu’s on top of it. From his hand grows a dagger, bright and sharp, and he stabs downward, toward the demon’s chest. But the demon disappears from underneath him, knocking him off balance.

“Shirabu, the tail!” Semi calls, as the demon reappears, its tail flying toward Shirabu’s unprotected back.

Shirabu spins around, the dagger slicing straight through the tail. The demon howls, charging forward with its horns lowered. The hell beasts also charge. Semi’s eyes widen, as his breath catches in his throat. He stumbles forward, wanting to help, despite the way his side screams at him to stay still.

He needn’t have worried, though. Calmly, Shirabu stands and flings his arms out to the side. He utters no spell, but the hell beasts and demon freeze in place, halted by Shirabu’s magic. Semi can feel his energy rolling off him in strong, powerful waves. He senses anger, fear, hatred.

“I could tear you all apart, piece by piece,” Shirabu mutters, eyes glinting red.

Semi steps closer, placing his free hand on Shirabu’s shoulder. “Just banish them. They’re not worth the energy.”

Shirabu shoots him a glare. “It hurt you. It deserves it.” 

Semi shrugs. “Maybe. But you already took its tail. That’s going to take a while to grow back.”

Shirabu narrows his eyes, but after a moment he flicks his wrists, and the demon and beasts explode into black smoke. Relief causes Semi’s limbs to tremble, and he nearly falls, as the adrenaline rush fades, and his body registers just how fatigued he is. Shirabu catches him before he can, however, and lowers him carefully to the ground, as he kneels.

“I’m fine,” Semi says dismissively, still sensing the fear and anger swirling inside Shirabu.

“You should’ve called for me,” Shirabu says. “I could’ve taken care of that thing before this happened.”

Semi wrinkles his nose. “You’re extremely powerful, Kenjirou. Sometimes I want a piece of the action, too.”

Shirabu huffs. “Your pride thing is stupid.”

“Like you don’t make stupid choices ‘cause of pride.”

“Not this stupid!”

Semi laughs, which turns into a grimace, as the pain flares. Shirabu’s brow furrows, and he moves to carefully lift Semi’s shirt. He inhales sharply, as he finds the wound. Semi’s too afraid to look.

“I don’t think it hit anything important,” Semi wheezes, shaking his head.

His skin quivers, as Shirabu lightly places his hand over the wound. His gaze focuses, lips pursed in concentration, and Semi feels his magic seep into his skin, warm and gentle. He closes his eyes, as his body knits itself back together, guided by Shirabu’s magic. He could have done this himself, but he’s grateful for the assistance, for Shirabu’s presence.

“Hey,” he says quietly, reaching up to thread his fingers through Shirabu’s hair.

Shirabu glances sidelong at him, tension still lining his features. “What?”

“Thank you.”

Shirabu’s face turns red. “Whatever,” he mutters, turning his face away.

But Semi tangles his fingers in Shirabu’s hair, tugging him closer. “Kenjirou,” he murmurs.

Shirabu looks back at him, frowning. “You’re being weird, again,” he complains.

“You like it when I’m weird like this,” Semi counters, before pressing a soft kiss against Shirabu’s lips.

He doesn’t resist; Semi knew he wouldn’t. His fingers spread against Semi’s side, holding the newly healed skin in a firm grasp, as he leans into the kiss. His lips are dry and chapped, but Semi’s aren’t much better. He loosens his grip on Shirabu’s hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His heart hasn’t slowed it’s quickened pace since the fight, and now it beats even faster, threatening to burst.

He pulls Shirabu closer, still feeling the magical energy vibrating through him, through them both. He parts his lips, slipping them between Shirabu’s, and Shirabu responds by pushing his tongue through the gap, licking into his mouth with a soft moan.

“Oi! Lovebirds! Can’t you make out somewhere cleaner? You haven’t even showered yet!”

Semi’s tempted to ignore Yamagata’s interruption, but then he hears the shutter sound of a phone’s camera, and he turns his head to frown at his teammate. His face instantly warms, however, when he notices the entire team is there, watching with varying levels of amusement.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asks, scrambling to his feet. Shirabu stands as well, looking more smug than embarrassed. Semi gives his arm a shove. “Stop with that face.”

“The hell beasts disappeared, so we figured someone must have taken out their master,” Reon states, still smiling. “We followed the energy signature here.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m pooped!” Tendou exclaims, stretching his arms above his head. “Let’s go home and veg out in front of the TV.”

“You barely did anything,” Kawanishi says. “Ushijima blasted through your beasts in seconds. Look, he’s not even tired.”

Ushijima blinks at them all. “I thought about going for a run,” he admits. “You’re all welcome to join me.”

“I’ll join!” Goshiki cries, because of course he’d be up to it.

“Ah, what the hell, I could use some more exercise,” Yamagata says.

“Semi-san was injured. I think he needs to lie down for a while,” Shirabu says, eyes straight ahead.

Semi’s about to protest, reprimand Shirabu for being cheeky and insist he’s fine, but then he notices the red tips of his ears, and he suddenly understands.

“Ah, yeah, some rest would probably be good,” he says, laying his hand over his side. “You all go on without me.”

“I’ll make sure he gets home okay,” Shirabu says, taking Semi’s arm to help him walk past the others. Semi ignores Tendou’s knowing smirk, as they pass.

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” Semi mutters under his breath.

“You want the house to ourselves or not?” Shirabu hisses back.

Semi’s body grows warm. “Fine. But I’m topping this time,” he says.

Shirabu turns to look at him with wide eyes. “You shouldn’t exert yourself too much, Semi-san. We wouldn’t want you to re-injure yourself.”

“Cheeky bastard,” Semi growls, grabbing Shirabu around the neck and ruffling his hair.

Shirabu laughs, a free, lighthearted sound that comes so rarely, that Semi can’t help but grin in response.

#semishira #semishira fic #semi eita #shirabu kenjirou #semi x shirabu #fic: bh #my writings #happy birthday lissa love!!! #sydrabbles

[openthevoid2]

Christine- The Nephilim

"They get angry when they drink. I get angry when I don't." She growled. Quickly Benjamin reached in his duffle bag, amidst the weaponry he snagged the Whiskey bottle and handed it to her. Downing the alcoholic beverage Christine sighed in relief. Bullets blazed through the forest as bark from distant trees exploded into shrapnel. Ducking behind a boulder she felt the air ripple violently as bullets whizzed past. The strong taste flooded her mouth as it crawled down her throat into her stomach where it burned, like a volcanic eruption. Gasping her eyes widened, as she quickly finished the bottle holding it by the neck. Benjamin eyed her bewildered as to how getting hammered would help in this chaotic battlefield. "Are you okay?" He inquired, his words stirred the air like leaves in the wind. "Never better." Christine quickly responded. "You sure, cause you drank that like water." He commented. "I said I'm fine Benjamin, I'll keep in touch." Loading her firearm and bag of tricks strapping it behind her back, she took off into the woods. The buzz of the alcohol fueled her drive to complete her mission. Nothing else mattered, tightening her grip, the bottle become a weapon. Closing in on a nearby target she swung the bottle in a left hook fashion smashing it against someone's head. "Ah!" They cried out crashing into a tree, shattered glass littered the ground. Walking through the thick brush, Christine equipped herself with a gun aiming into the foggy thick forest glancing through the scope. All was quiet as she sniped three targets, they all fell dead. Like on a boat at high seas her steps were flimsy as she waltzed through the forest obviously quite drunk, she dug into her pocket pulling out a lighter lighting a cigarette she lit the end and pressed it against her lips. Exhaling her eyes rolled back cracking a small smile reminiscing on her past which was of a time when the skies were much brighter. Suddenly a faint odor bought her to reality. "Huh?" She caught the scent of fresh gasoline. Scanning the ground she rubbed the dirt feeling a damp section, sniffing her fingers she was correct. With superior eyesight see could see a housing facility where more of her enemies were staying. "Well, my birthday's next week. Let's light these candles a bit early" Christine muttered. Crouching she placed the cigarette on the ground instantly it ignited as the trail blazed toward the facility. It quickly burst into flames, as bodies, and limbs flew into the air scattering the ground like rain. "Incinerate." Christine mumbled as the reflection of fire glistened in her eyes. Stepping back she bumped into a solider. Twirling around she snapped their neck, taking a grenade from their hand she took off. Within the next few minutes. "Hey! She's over here!" Someone shouted. Speeding away she jumped through the low branches and corkscrewed from a tree tumbling to the ground. Within seconds she was surrounded, all was quiet as she unveiled two pistols, swirling in a swift motion the encircled wave of men lay dead. Within the mist a lumberjack emerged from the darkness, he was over 8ft tall hairy armed, and scarred from previous battles, the skies cracked as rain fell down. "Hey you little shit, you're dead meat. We've been looking for you for quite some time." His thick Russian accent roared through the rainy fog infested forest. She quickly fired shot after shot into the monstrous man. He laughed jovially, the earth quaked as he approached. "Your American shit like that won't work on me, I've trained my body to endure relentless treatment especially high velocity firepower; I'm essentially bulletproof. 350lbs. of pure muscle a-" Christine rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, FEE! FI! FOE! FUM!" She mocked in a drunken slur. Burping loudly, she laughed leaning against a tree. He grit his teeth. "You're filled to the brim with alcohol you couldn't possibly do much" "Come catch these hands then." Christine grimaced as the rain fell. He loomed a devilish grin, sizing up Christine he chuckled. "With pleasure young lady," Without hesitation he rushed for her tiny frame. Christine parried his colossal hands, moving in such a perplexed grace her fighting style was unpredictable. She teetered side to side, punching and kicking Lumberjack, dodging attacks and even performing acrobatic moves to assault him. Slipping between his legs she clung to his overalls and climbed his back. Peering the scenery from new heights she saw Benjamin, quickly waving she laughed. "Hey BennyBoy!" Benjamin sighed in disbelief that she was bold enough to attack such a giant. "Piggyback ride!" Christine yelled. "Aaaargh!" The lumberjack grew frustrated scrambling to capture the young woman. Reaching all over his body as if a squirrel crawled on his back, Christine quickly took hold of his ears and steered him directly into a great oak tree. "Whoa there boy, easy!" Christine said. Lumberjack bucked like a wild animal but Christine held on tight. Realizing she needed to tackle this from a different approach she devised a plan. "GET THE HELL OFF ME!" He spun in a circle faster and faster. Gaining speed Christine lost her grip and crashed to the ground... Woozy and nauseous a growl in her stomach told her the alcohol wasn't a good idea and she vomited. "That was quite the display of drunken boxing, haha never have I seen quite a graceful display of power." Lumberjack said quite impressed yet furious. The downpour continued relentlessly as the fog grew thicker. "My hair is gonna frizz." Christine sighed. Lumberjack disappeared within the haze but she knew he was still nearby. Now alone in the woods the grey. She knew how to end this. All was quiet before a loud buzzing pierced the ambience. "Arghh!" Time slowed down as Christine heard the ear shattering chorus of loud machinery, peering into the shadows she could just barely see a shadowed silhouette. Suddenly Lumberjack appeared. Leaping from the mist with a chainsaw in hand Lumberjack dove for Christine. Sliding on her knees through the drenched soil she leaned back parrying the oncoming blades of the chainsaw. The air tore like rice paper. Time resumed as he swerved around bringing with him his spiral of death chainsaw. Back flipping continually managing to evade Lumberjack Scratching her oak brown hair Christine wiped her mouth and spit. "Okay, come on big boy," Lumberjack slammed his fists in the ground rushing for her, arching the weapon over his shoulder he slashed every tree in sight. Christine swerved and flipped past him. Snagging his chainsaw in a thick tree trunk, he swirled around searching for Christine. "Where are you, you bitch" He screeched. Christine swiftly and with precise accuracy punched and kicked Lumberjack in all his pressure points. The whizzing of the chainsaw grew louder as hidden within the shadows Christine continued her assault. "Argh!" Lumberjack felt his entire body go limp as he slumped over the chainsaw was behind him still buzzing caught in the tree. Panic flooded his mind as his eyes searched the area for young Christine. "Argh!" She called out springing into view. Raining pattered her clothes and hair as she delivered a haymaker to Lumberjack's temple. Stumbled his ankle was severed by the chainsaw, blood splashed the ground as he cried out in pain. Unleashing a fury of punches he wheezed in agony. Every step was like tiny thorn burning in his big heel which hurt like hell. Everything suddenly became inaudible, only Christine's heartbeat. Steadying her feet she parkoured his monumental body and leaped in the air tornado kicking Lumberjack. Pulling out twin pistols loading with pure diamond bullets she fired shot after shot. Lumberjack now weakened began to crumble physically as the bullets left their mark with tremendous pain. "Oh found my Achilles heel. Diamonds as firepower huh? How'd you figure that was me vice?" Lumberjack asked impressed through the pain. "Easy I noted the Russian experiments, that lead based firearms are of no effect. Yet diamonds, oh they're for some reason pack quite a punch." Christine added joyously. Pushing through the pain Lumberjack gripped her throat and strangled her against a tree. "Well...," With blood oozing off his lips. "THATS THE LAST TRICK IN YOUR BOOK!" He shouted. Aiming the gun at the ground she unloaded two final shots, diamonds blasted straight through into his kneecaps. "SONOFBITCH!" He screamed he tossed her high into the sky as if he was a professional shot-put player. Time seemed to stop as she sailed high into the air. Backflipping through the sky Christine grit her teeth. "THIS ENDS NOW!" She cried descending fast. With all her strength colliding into Lumberjack she gripped his overalls and using his colossal frame to her advantage, Christine spiraled his body downward into the buzzing chainsaw. Lumberjack collided face first into the horizontal spinning blades. Blood sprayed everything. A croaking in his throat as he faded. Christine was sprinkled in a deep raspberry red. Rain caused the carnage to spill into the soil. Breathing heavily, she slumped down. Her heartbeat synced with her breathing as she slowly stood to her feet. Looking at her shoulder it was out of its socket. She bit down on part of her shirt as she grabbed her left arm and wincing popped it back in place while still eyeing the body with a haunting seriousness. Gasping through the pain Christine confidently walked away. Her body bruised and beaten. Getting to her bag her phoned Benjamin. "Hey....yeah I surprisingly handled it....yeah I'm heading back now...quick question...I'm fucking starving. Think we could get some sushi soon?.." She mumbled holding her stomach. Disappearing into the storm.

#short story #writer #writing #fiction #author #me

[calamitysshatteredson]

[Me: *would like to actually get to more RP replies someday soon, and still owes 7 requested drabbles at another blog* Also me: *instead speed writes a completely spontaneous drabble on an RP account regarding a sudden urge to explore an idea in a verse in which the character only kind of technically exists in developer interviews*  Behold my accomplishment.

This is actually supposing that Safay doesn’t somehow transform into a daemon of some kind after “certain events”.  For the record.  FFXV spoilers, if that’s still a thing to mention.]

He was trying.  And he expected it to be difficult. It was.  More than he'd prepared himself for.  He'd been a symbol of pride and glory, before.  Celebrated and pointed to more than he was ever comfortable with, but it had been in a positive light. In Lucis, after the empire crumbled and left behind very few of its citizens to brave an endless night, he saw the hatred.  Understandable.  Sometimes, rarely, it was worse: pity.  He could handle being hated; hated himself as much, admittedly.  There came a time when "just following orders" was not in any way excusable, and maybe it truly never had been.  He'd reached a point of questioning, and then ultimately of abandonment. Even if the empire no longer existed, he was in every possible sense a traitor.  Secondary to being completely responsible for the fear and hatred, for breaking up families, for murder.  He might not have individually stabbed or shot every last one of the dead, but he never prevented it.  Many were under his orders.  There were ghosts he had resolved to live with.

The ghosts weren’t difficult.  Though he didn't particularly sleep well, the waking hours were worse.  Trying not to shrivel away and hide.  There was no pride to carry with him, not there.

The living were what haunted him.  Surely no one would ever believe his change of heart, that his intent was to use what remained of his life to aid the survivors, no matter where they were from, what he had or hadn’t done to them personally.  He’d abandoned the white coat long ago, soaked through with red and black.

Maybe his flesh was tainted.  That was fine.

Supply runs were suicide missions.  Drive to somewhere, look around for anything useful to take back, return with as much as possible and no one left behind.  The trips back and forth were suited for him, as far as Safay was concerned; with some ropes to hold on to, he was perfectly suited to riding atop one of the larger vehicles transporting necessary supplies back to Lestallum thanks to all his time on Imperial airships and their questionably sane operators.  He’d never had magic to warp, but he could leap and attack the larger daemon’s trying to chase them, blade swift and true.

He couldn’t always reliably leap back onto the vehicle itself, but ropes could be tossed.  Motorcycles followed with brighter lights, at times.

He had no doubt that they’d all have preferred to leave him there.  But so long as he proved valuable, he wouldn’t be abandoned.

He slept through the night when he exhausted himself.  That was payment enough.

One supply run went wrong.  It was only a matter of time.  As much as they all knew that--

It stung.  Glass containers, blankets and a few sacks of admittedly questionable quality grain had been lost, set ablaze by a Red Giant.  It sounded like so little to fight for, in one sense, and yet they needed every last resource they could get.  The loss was personal to all of them.  After a few minutes of fighting, trying to radio desperately for help, the decision was made to retreat.

Ah, but how did they retreat when they were surrounded?  A direction was picked: straight back to Lestallum.  Consensus: fight their way through, pray that they might be favored by something, and hope help was on the way.  (Unspoken orders: take as many of the daemon bastards down with them as they could.)

They fought well together for six individuals.  All primed fighters in their own rights.  Ultimately, Stone, an older hunter, lost his life.  His wife Astrid had managed to shoot the Ronin in what passed for its face, and whether or not daemons could feel pain remained unknown, but they could swing wildly when injured.  Stone had just been reloading.  Safay had no chance to block the blade when he was on the other side of the flaming vehicle contending with particularly vicious late-coming Imps who’d already gotten a few claws into his legs through sheer force of number.

It had been a disaster.  It had been what felt like a total loss, even if they did manage to make it back thanks to three motorcycles showing up to shine lights on the remaining daemons, forcing them back.  Those who could walk, did.  Those who couldn’t, rode slow.  Anyone who could hold a light just kept pivoting them in a slow spread.  An imperfect glowing halo of protection.  Safay--

Logically, Stone was dead.  Logically, it was a waste of energy and resources to do anything but leave him behind.  That was what a soldier of the empire would have done.

And logically, when he could already feel the very start of poison burning through the wounds in his legs, drawing his thoughts slowly into the distance, Safay should have traded his sword for an iron bar and stayed with the body, taking whatever daemons he could find to hell with him.

Logic had been left on battlefields long ago and far away, it seemed, hearing Mrs. Stone (”Was ‘Calamity Astrid’, but y’may as well call me ‘Calamity Stone’ now.”) swallow and sniff, packing up her husband’s guns, motorcycles turning to go.  There was no thought before the action, Safay simply kneeling to maneuver Stone’s body over his shoulders, lifting with agonizing effort.  He joined the march without a word, and no one argued against it.  “No one left behind” was one of the rules.  He was still useful for something.

For whatever reason he had not questioned at the time, and didn’t ask about later, one of the other hunters crushed a precious remedy bottle against his chest.  Safay blinked, relief instant, fog lifting from his mind and legs still heavy from effort and wounds but not poison.

Potions were still too precious.  He felt somewhere between understanding and grateful for feeling every step.

They made it back.  His legs felt utterly useless by the time he stumbled into the makeshift tent that counted as his housing, but that was a full night’s sleep well into the next day.  As far as days and nights went in the darkness.

He woke up to see clean bandages and  variety of medical supplies next to his bed.  He never asked who or why.

There were no bars.  He heard the lament occasionally, mostly said in jest.  Sometimes very serious, passed off as a joke.  Things were still fermented, of course.  That was how a lot of folks lived through the time.  If barely, in some cases.

There weren’t bars, but there were gathering places.  Safay usually avoided them, but he took any task that was handed to him, and one evening such a task happened to be delivering a squeaking wheelbarrow of various bottles sloshing with liquid he himself wouldn’t have referred to as “drinkable” to such an establishment.

He accepted no payment, took no suggestions of “something on the house”, simply raised a hand and turned--

“Well well.”

Every part of the former general went cold.  His own uniform had been abandoned years previous, but the one he saw mere feet away was recognizable.  Far from pristine, but well-kept.

A Glaive.  One of the few survivors of the attack on Insomnia.  Suddenly inviting him over with a gesture.

After regaining his ability to breathe, there was no hesitation.  Safay fully expected to be stabbed by the end of the night.  Within the quarter hour, truth be told.  He accepted the judgment and the sentence immediately, sitting at the Glaive’s left side.

“Heard about you.”  The conversation was immediate, halfway to the point.

Safay looked around subtly, took note the place was mostly empty.  Probably for the best.  “I suspect you’re not alone in that.”

The Glave snorted.  “You’re right.  That hair of yours a little obvious, isn’t it?”

He supposed the braid must look a mess.  He hadn’t bothered to do anything with it for quite some time, only when it managed to fall out.  Showers were quick, cold, and there was no time to worry overly much about appearances.  Perhaps he should have simply cut it, and yet...  “I see no reason to hide, if that’s what you’re inferring.”  He looked over then, really saw the other man; and took note of the braids in his own hair.  Galahdian.

“Looks like shit.”  Somehow the words came out sounding more matter-of-fact than incendiary.  It surprised a laugh out of Safay, which in turn seemed to break up some of the tension.  “Re-braid it for you.  On one condition.”

That cold set in again, freezing his chest.  “I’m not good with conditions.”

“No shit.”  The Glaive was grinning, though.  “Why you stayin’ here?”

The answer seemed so starkly simple: Where else is there to go?  That wasn’t what was being asked of him, though.  Not that that made it less true; there were many reasons.  He could be of help.  He could do something to make up for what was ultimately a personal failing, and yet something so vastly far beyond that to the point where he couldn’t even begin to grasp his part in the very darkness they lived in.  Accidental.  Unintentional.  But not blameless, all the same.

What Safay ultimately offered was, “It’s the least I can do.”  That wasn’t enough, not by a long shot...

But the Glaive nodded once, scooting an empty shot glass aside.  “Turn around.  Gonna be here a while.  May as well get a drink.”

“I prefer to keep my eyesight intact, thank you.”  He received a chuckle and a light tug for that as his mess of a braid was untangled.  As far as surreal situations went, it was hardly the worst.  “Unless you’re going to stab me anyway.”

“Oi.  If you keep moving, I will.  Hold still.”

#drabble #drabble-turned-fic whoops #FFXVverse!SafayRoth #ffxvspoilers #ffxv spoilers #((who is the Glaive? both obvious and not I suppose)) #((also totally trying not to compare/contrast to my WOR Prompto right now)) #((so I'm being constructive...)) #((...just in absolutely nothing I actually wanted to be doing)) #((brain will you work with me here)) #((I mean I'm glad I'm writing but at the same time could I be I don't know... WRITING WHAT I WANT WHEN I WANT TO)) #((brain)) #((hello brain)) #lookitmequeue

[charactersadvocatechimata]

Blood Is Not The Only Game In Town

Natasha, having nothing better to do this evening, has found themselves making a game of ‘what is the pervert after.’ Again. Most likely, he's been aiming for their chest, not as if the man in questions has made much progress but the general swing of those paws and his almost focused eyesight at their chest are good indicators. Of course, the way they are leaning against the bar with their hips out, the target could be their ass. It is a fine ass.

Currently, it’s the bonus round: is he aware that his attempts at stilted conversation in no way hide his true purpose. His random laughing at what, they assume, are supposed to be jokes, not squashed alphabet soup, implies that no he does not.

After some more jokes, something finally seems to click in that booze drowning noggin of his, as the man straightens and furiously blinks at them. “So da you a girl or a boi?”

There is no suppressing the quirk of their sultry sangria painted lips, because this part, this is the part where they get to put on a bit of a show. They widen their smile into a predatory grin showing off a pair of pearly fangs. “Neither. I’m a vampire.”

(Cut. Mobile Beware.)

There is the polite pause for the punch line because a vampire existing in reality always seems to short circuit most mortals brain. Something that exists that humanity never seems to comprehend. An impossibility, their brain always reasons. Yet the man has lost the patience for that some bottles ago and instead just scrunches his nose.

“Iss joke?”

“Wanna test that theory and step out for a bite?” They softly snap their teeth driving in the point and giggle when he rapidly shakes his head, backs up, missing the stool and falling flat on his butt. Yet they hardly snort at the man’s comic retreat because that brings them back to the reason they entered the bar in the first place. Boredom.

When the Thirteenth offered to turn them all that filled their mind was the power that would be gain, the possibility of flight, and the only noteworthy side-effect was losing the ability to eat. Not that food was ever a major priority for them, and they do prefer blood. It’s both quick and efficient. But the boredom. The boredom. Damn him for never mentioning the fucking boredom.

“Please Ty. I don’t want too.”

Natasha tipped their head, trying to filter out the crap for that nugget of something-fucking finally- interesting. Maybe a fight. Not that they would ever start a bar fight on purpose.

“Really, you are such a fucking embarrassment, Anthony.”

Their sight jumps from face to face, but there is nothing but gawkers and drunkards everywhere. Useless fuckers existing only to block their view of the sight. The only thing to do is stand on a table.

“I don’t care Ty. I don’t care. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the girls that prance in and out of our apartment. Sick of the boys you fuck in our bed. But mostly I’m sick of you.”

Natasha hears a strike, and it attracts more gawkers to the scene, acting as a path for Natasha to follow.

“You worthless slut. You don’t get to talk down to me. We are leaving.”

“No! I’m not going home with you.”

There. In the corner of the room, slowly being surrounded by flesh clumps drawn to the same spectacle Natasha was, a mop of dark hair and brown eyes that almost glowed goldenly. Anthony, if they heard the name correctly, held himself taut, with his shoulder near his head but his eyes told a different story. His eyes remained defiant even as small, possible only perceived by a creature like themself, shudders shook his small frame.

“Ty. Let go. Please.”

This time the hit isn’t just a sound they picked from the crowd. Now it’s the reddening of his cheek, the iron tang smell of blood, and the smaller mortal refusing to back down. Something in that moment struck a chord within Natasha. They found a strange desire to be an actor in this ridiculous farce. It is the only reason they figured for why their in front of “Anthony” and the attacker is slumped against a wall. The wall that may have a small crack. Oops.

The crowd is apparently not as drunk as Natasha had guesstimated. Because several of the onlookers are showing beginning signs of panic. And really, they do not want to deal with those SHIELD nimrods. Clint was fine and sometimes Coulson, but they weren’t always that lucky. Mostly they’re never that lucky.

“Come. We need to leave.”

Anthony must be in shock or something. His eyes still have that ‘trapped in the light’ look. Also, blinking. A fair amount of blinking. Huh. Natasha had kinda forgotten that humans did that. They huff. More and more phones are being pulled out, although people usually take pictures sometimes there is that one square that will inevitably call the police.

They don’t even stop to think before their arm is securely wrapped around Anthony’s chest, backflipping out the window (maybe it was a wall) shielding him from the glass and running down towards the park near their apartment. Under Natasha’s least hated tree, they dumb the boy onto the grass. He still doing that dazed blinking thing.

“Anthony? You okay? Should I steal something for you?”

“Tony. Don’t call me Anthony. Or Mr. Stark. Please. I just- No. Okay.”

Tony has curled into one of the smallest balls Natasha has ever seen. It reminds them of a kitten abandoned by its mother. They are rather fond of cats. But Tony isn’t a pet. He is a wild animal and needs to go home. They nudge their foot against Tony’s leg. He flinches. They bite the inside of their cheek. “Can I walk or carry you home?”

He laughs. And laughs. The pitch dancing wildly around them. Ending with a hitched breath and a soft sob. “I live with the bastard. I- I don’t have anywhere to go. I’ve been abandoned. By everybody.” There is another soft sob from Tony. “Isn’t that the funniest thing you ever heard?”

“No.”

“No? Do you pity me then?”

“No. I’ve been abandoned too. It happens.”

Tony uncurls from his ball. His eyes are wet from the tears that are still silently rolling down his face. Natasha's impressed. They didn’t think that it was possible for someone to cry while making no sound. They never managed that. All they could do was bury it all. Even the metaphorical bleeding.

He pushes himself up, sitting on his knees. The iron is back in those Bambi eyes, and Natasha finds themself genuinely curious to hear what the mortal will say. “Could you please do me a favor?”

They purse their lips and bunch their eyebrows even as they tingle in anticipation. “It depends. The devil is in the details.”

“True,” Tony smirks. “My son is back at the apartment. Could you please help me save him? I cannot abandon him. I will not abandon him.”

Not quite what they were expecting. Maybe a little revenge. Some maiming would have been fun. But a child. What a surprise. Natasha hadn’t figured Tony as the child rearing type. Nor that he was even old enough to have his own. “Isn’t sixteen a little young to be having a baby?”

“I’m twenty-one.” He bites and huffs and pouts. “And my kid is three, almost four, thank you very much.”

Natasha smiles offering a hand for Tony to lift himself up. They figured no more surprise. What were the chances that the same mortal would surprise them, not twice but three times? But damn. Was Dum-E, Tony’s only son, one hell of a surprise. They might have cursed a little, inside their head of course, when Tony made the introductions. But he didn’t have to know that.

Although, Natasha would never have considered a giant metal arm to be anyone’s child. Tony insisted that it had some form of artificial intelligence. And they had seen books about the concept. Yet artificial intelligence had always sounded a little too much like a conman’s newest game.

They had even spent an entire moment considering if Tony’s whole night was some trick, a misguided attempt to find the Thirteenth, but Natasha had never seen or heard so much love before. Tony loved Dum-E fiercely. You’d have to be incredibly stupid or oblivious or both to miss it. He cooed at the arm, petted it like it was alive, and talked it through it’s ‘anxiety’ as they loaded into a stolen van.

Driving to their apartment, Natasha had only asked if the metal arm really understood what was happening and what Tony was saying. That prompted him to launch a lecture regarding modern technology, computers, and artificial intelligence. They understood nothing, not even where to nod. But Tony was in some far off world and hardly noticed.

Probably not a trick.

@@@

“Okay. Fine. But did ya have to bring the two strays here? To our real apartment.”

Natasha rolls their eyes. “Tony and Dum-E are not strays. They’re my new cats.”

“They are wild animals.”

“That I’ve domesticated. You’ll love the both of them. Dum-E likes to play fetch, and Tony has the most beautiful purr.”

“No, Natasha.”

They pout. Tilting their head in a way they know most perceive as fragile. Probably is that the two of them have known each other far too long. In the end, all they get for their trouble is a snort and a roll of his hand indicating for them to move the act along. “You got both Steve and Sam. I don’t see why I can’t have my Tony and Dum-E.”

“That’s different. And you know that Natasha.” He scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “And Sam is not my anything. Steve picked that one up all on his own. Fucking bird brain.”

“So Steve gets his pet, and I don’t.”

“It’s too dangerous.” He growls low and demanding. He tries to use his position as their “Father.” There isn’t anything they can do against him. But that doesn't stop them from letting the red bleed into their eyes covering the color they’ve had since birth, an unusually glowing green color.

His eyes flinch away. There is always so much guilt when they transform their eyes. Some sort of reminder that Natasha never understood. Why turn them if he was going to hold all that guilt? However, they never saw his eyes any color but gray. Gray like the day they both met, with all that snow. When they thought they would become the snow.

Now he's just staring at them. Now they are just staring back. It would probably have continued if a voice hadn’t spoken up.

“If it’s about the both of you being supernaturals, I don’t care. And I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

He smiles warmly, a farce if ever they saw one, at Tony trying to appear human. Yet coming off more as a predator than if he just acted naturally. Not surprising since the man had never been anything close to human. “I’m not-”

“The redhead who, at most is a hundred and twenty pounds, easily pushed a two hundred pound man into a wall, lifted someone of similar weight, and backflipped through a concrete wall. Of course, even if you ignore all that, her-”

“They, if you please.” Natasha blows a kiss at Tony.

“If you ignore all that, even their entire presence screams danger. And then there is you. Stand against them like you would ultimately be the winner in the fight. You have to be so stupid to ignore that and think ‘Oh, my. These are some strange people I’ve met.’” Tony finishes with a snort.

It doesn’t stop there. Tony doesn’t back down. Just like before. It is exciting. Exciting! They hear Thirteenth’s heart spike. It takes all their control not to smile wide with all their teeth. They can see it now clearly written on Thirteenth’s face. Desire. Something that is entirely new for them. Desire is something that is so very mortal. An urge that quickly dies away when death is no longer a fathomable concept. For the most part, Thirteenth made decisions as if he had a checklist to complete. Steve was one check, and Natasha knows she was another. Sam and Clint were probably on this imaginary list as well.

Tony was different. They knew Tony was different.

It’s exciting. Unexpected. Oh, they lusted after the unexpected.

“Fine. You can stay the night. Only the night.” Thirteenth growls out each word. Then looking away. Trying pull of an act of apathy, disinterest in Tony. Hardly works with the way his body is vibrating.

“Can I get your names before you dash into the night?”

Thirteenth hesitates.

It’s clear that giving Tony both their names would be reckless, creating a connection. Really they almost felt pity for Thirteenth. “I’m Natasha.” They gestured at Thirteenth, just a beat away from naming him. Watching his horror as he is forced to form a relationship with Tony.

“James. Call me James, Tony.”

“Okay, then. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

James. . . leaves. Natasha follows. It’s been a long time since they wanted to pull him apart with their eyes. “James, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You told me to call you Winter. Steve calls you Bucky. Sam says, Hobo. Yet Tony gets James.”

“So?”

“It’s a name.”

“Yeah, it is.” He reveals nothing. It’s irritating but ultimately the game they both must play.

“You know, by human standards, Tony is completely legal.”

James. James actually blushes. Red checks. Red ears. Downcast eyes. Actual embarrassment. “Shut up.”

Best night. They can’t wait to tell Clint all the gossipy details.

#natasha romanoff #vampire #Avengers #winteriron #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #Winter Solider #tony/bucky

[thankyoumskobayashi]

Walk a Mile in my Rainboots

Crossover between: Guardian and Kamen Rider Blade

Ships: Zhou/Shen, Kenzaki/Hajime.

Summary: Stranded in a rainstorm while driving, Zhou Yunlan shelters at a gas station and meets veteran cryptid Kenzaki Kazuma. They both agree that keeping ancient rocks around to wreak havoc is a fucked up thing to do.

The giant, heavy, modded red Jeep -the SID's official work vehicle- stalled one night while Zhou Yunlan was driving it. As the rain drummed eerie rhythms on the jeep's roof, he called SID headquarters, that eclectic old building, and Shen Wei interrupted Wang Zheng to ask if the Dark Energy Detector was working.

Dutifully, Zhou checked. "No, it appears to be a simple mistake of me not remembering to fill the gas tank this morning. That's all." He grinned, shivering. "Oh, and I forgot my coat, so I'm going to hang at the gas station down the road."

"I will go get you. Wait for me, and don't get into trouble." Shen ordered. Yunlan laughed, picturing him scowling with his eyes, his brows lowered, his lips a tight line. He cut such a noble figure even through everything, and it always made Yunlan's heart beat faster with the thrill of being by his side.

"Oh, Shun Wei, don't you know that Trouble is both my first and last name?" Yunlan teased, laughing riotously.

"This is no laughing matter," Shun Wei insisted. "Your safety is my priority. I will be there to pick you up shortly."

The phone call ended and Zhou Yunlan hung up, picking up the keys and locking the car as he left it on the side of the road. He trudged through muddy puddles which soaked through his sneakers and left his threadbare socks wet and uncomfortable.

"Damnit," he muttered as he reached the awning. He leaned against the side of the building that was in the lee of the storm, with the least rain pattering down a few inches away from his face.

"Hey. Do you need this?" He jumped as a shadowy figure appeared next to him and offered some giant rainboots. The voice was lower and less elegant than Shen Wei's, and its owner was a sorer sight for sorry eyes. The youth in question was Japanese and somewhere in his twenties, a hobo or stoner perhaps, with mussed brown hair and dark circles under his eyes.

Zhou eyed the man warily. "Why do you ask?" He burst into grin. "It's not everyday that I'm offered such fine galoshes, after all."

"Your shoes squeaked with each step," the man explained, setting the boots between them. "Take them or leave them, I don't care. You'll never see me again, anyways." A shadow of a frown crossed his brow with a spray of droplets from the gale around them.

"Ah, where are you headed? I'm off to visit a friend's," Yunlan asked.

"Who knows? I go where the wind takes me," the stranger shrugged. Undeterred, Yunlan tried again.

"Ah, same with me, unfortunate that it had to take me to the next case without regard for my recently recovered eyesight."

"You... are human, no?"

"Of course."

"I thought so. Why would a human recover sight?"

"First you visit an eye doctor, then you schedule an appointment with an eye surgeon..."

"I wasn't born five centuries ago." The mysterious man snarked. "I know what modern technology is like. Although, I haven't seen what cell phones can do in.... say.... 12 years."

Zhou whistled. "That's an enormous amount of time. Were you stuck in Azkaban, then?"

The man laughed. "No, I'm worse off than even Sirius was. He at least got to see his husband before Rowling killed him off. I'm cursed to be wandering eternally to avoid meeting and having to kill the love of my life."

"

...................That's tough, buddy."

"Yeah."

They both watch the rain in silence for a while. Zhou doesn't sense any ill intentions from the other man, so he tried again. "I'm Zhou Yunlan. Want to join my crew? We solve mysteries caused by the Dixings coming to the surface of the planet."

The youth laughed. "Well, Zhou Yunlan, you have noble intentions, but I'd rather not get you involved in the extinction of another species. My name is Kenzaki Kazuma, and an ancient rock fucked up my life."

Zhou Yunlan's eyes lit up. "Same here! There's this giant pillar at Dixing which tried to manipulate me-"

"The Möbius Rock tries to manipulate me-"

"-To believing my boyfriend is evil."

"-Into killing my boyfriend."

They stare at each other, shocked, in the rain. Zhou laughs and changes his wet shoes out for the galoshes. "You know exactly what I'm going through."

"You're just like me when I was still a human," Kenzaki smiled sadly. "It makes me sad to know I'll have to leave you behind in case he gets too close."

"Why leave anyone behind at all?" Jiu Zhu's voice echoed from the darkness around them. Yunlan tensed immediately as he continued, "You won't make it out of this place alive."

Zhou pushed Kenzaki behind him, pulling out his dark energy gun. The youth pulled a belt out from his back and fastened it around his waist. "I've got this." He placed the Ace of Spades card in the belt, making the words "Turn Up." Then he ran through a glowin blue rectangular window, appearing like a one-horned silver stag beetle with red eyes. His sword appeared too, which he slashed at Jiu Zhu with.

Jiu Zhu dodged, and countered with a kick that did... Nothing. Kenzaki walked forward, even when the Dixingian kicked his vulnerable belly. He pulled out a sword, swiped a couple cards, and the words "Lightning Sonic" appeared in the same voice as earlier.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYY~!" Kenzaki screamed as he slashed Jiu Zhu in the elbow, right where Yunlan had shot him earlier. Zhou marveled at his ability to notice his opponent's limited range of movements and from there pinpoint a weakness. He evidently wasn't new to fighting.

Jiu Zhu winced with pain, then cursed and disappeared in a cloud of dark energy. Kenzaki pulled the card from his belt and returned to human form, collapsing to his knees in the rain.

Yunlan ran over to help him, unaware now of the rain soaking him to his core. He reached out to help Kenzaki, but was stopped by Shen Wei's arm on his at the same moment that he noticed green blood dripping from Kenzaki's mouth.

"Zhou Yunlan, what happened here?" Shen Wei scowled at him through the mask.

Zhou grinned at him, then turned to Kenzaki. "Ah, my boyfriend's here."

Kenzaki nodded.

"Stop ignoring me, I sense dark energy. Was it him?" Shen asked, kicking Kenzaki backwards and pinning him expertly. He materialized his guandao to point it at Kenzaki's throat. Kenzaki, for his part, did not resist.

"No, no, no, no, he was protecting me!" Yunlan insisted. "Jiu Zhu showed up and Kenzaki fought him off."

Shen stared at him, then narrowed his eyes at the green blood dripping from Kenzaki's mouth. "He certainly looks different than all of my people I've met so far. What powers does he have?"

"You'd have to ask him that, he's sitting right there." As hot as it was to see Shen Wei pinning someone down while using his royal persona, Yunlan didn't want to explain his boner to the wanderer he just met.

"Please let me stand up," Kenzaki asked, in a voice that was too Tired for anything.

Slowly, Shen Wei removed his guandao and released Kenzaki's wrists. He stayed between Yunlan and the newcomer and eyed Kenzaki warily, as if he would jump up and lunge for Yunlan's throat.

Kenzaki sat up slowly, as if trying not to startle Shen Wei. He had returned his cards and belt to some pocket within his torn and baggy pants before Shen Wei could notice.

"I used my basic finishing attack on him. That's all."

"What is that? Show me," Shen Wei commanded. Kenzaki opened his mouth, then jumped a meter in the air when Yunlan's cell phone rang. Yunlan retreated to the side of the gas station to open his cell phone. Shen Wei noticed the relieved face Kenzaki made when he realized ringtones were still Like That.

"Yep, I'm alright. Mhm. Uh-huh. No, don't... I'll have him report directly to you." He covered the receiver. "Babe, come over here."

Giving Kenzaki one last glare, Shen Wei strode towards Zhou and took the phone. He murmured some things, as Yunlan noticed Kenzaki had disappeared into the night. The only physical evidence he had been there was the pair of galoshes.

"Won't you need these?" He called, softly enough not to alarm Shen Wei.

"If I give up the chance to help somebody, even with something as small as this, I could never live with myself," Kenzaki replied distantly. "Farewell, Zhou Yunlan. I wish Hajime and I could have gotten something like what you have."

"Hajime? What's he like?"

"I don't know anymore. He was cold and rude at first, but over time I grew to trust and care for him, enough to protect him with my life."

Zhou whistled. "That sounds familiar."

"I know; we're the same." The laugh was evident in Kenzaki's voice now. Shen Wei passed the phone back to Yunlan as he did not know how to hang up.

"I apologize; my reflexes took over earlier," Shen Wei called to Kenzaki. "May I see just one of your abilities?"

"Sure, what the hell, why not." Kenzaki stepped out of the darkness looking the same. As they watched, he became a monstrous green bug just taller than a human.

"Now, let's test whether you are one of my people or not," Shen Wei said, summoning a ball of dark energy below his hand.

"I'm probably not; the rest went extinct about 10,000 years ago," Kenzaki muttered. Shen Wei froze.

"There was an extinction....Justiciar didn't keep any of the records on this. As the Envoy of Dixing I must atone for this grievous sin, too."

"Babe, don't keep placing the burdens of the world on your shoulders. Sooner or later, you'll fall and collapse from the stress." Zhou wrapped his arm around Shen Wei's shoulders encouragingly.

"For Dixing and for the sake of peace, I must," Shen answered, although he leaned into Yunlan's arm a bit.

"Earlier you offered to help me; now I propose we help each other. I don't want another evil rock nearly destroying the world, since I already barely scraped by with avoiding that once."

Shen Wei stared at Kenzaki breathlessly. "H-How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine," Kenzaki answered.

"What do you want in return?" Zhou asked.

"To have an evil rock destroyed so I can be with my boyfriend again," Kenzaki answered.

"Do you work well in teams?"

"I trust my coworkers with my life, even when they betray me or shoot me point-blank."

Zhou considered this, then smirked. "I'll approve your application. I feel that we can kill two birds with one stone by working together. Do you need a place to stay?"

Just like he'd use the hell out of these rainboots, he'd use Kenzaki's powers to end Jiu Zhu's plots once and for all.

#the joke is that he already knows the answer to that #gay prince of cryptids #i dont know if shen wei uses a guandao or a #puandao? i think it was??? #to find those names i searched chinese glaives. or is it just a glaive instead??? #kamen rider blgayde #in any case im not putting this in the main tags so people dont get smited by censors for reading it #stay safe everyone