#i just plan to eventually work at a blood bank

[littlebluespoon]

Stuck (Again) Octo!König Part 2

Here we go, part 2. A bit of a darker but still as adorable König. This ended up three times the length of part 1 and I'm considering a part 3 if y'all want it :)

Part 1 - Stuck Part 3 - Unstuck Part 4 - Stranded

On the journey back to base you noticed that König was still bleeding, while it was slower than in his human form it was soaking through your shirt. At some point you were going to have to treat him but you had no experience in aquatic shifters and seeing as it wasn’t in his file, you doubted the Kortac medics knew more than you. Of course, priority number one was to get him unattached from you, 

“König, you’re still bleeding. You gotta let go so I can figure out how bad it is.” Gently you try to pry his tentacles off but every time you get one and move onto the next he just re-attaches it,

“König! You need to let go now!” you resort to scolding and annoying him in the hope that something will work, “You need medical attention you stubborn ass, let go or shift back.” Emphasising each word with a poke to his face.

A staring contest with an octopus was not on your to-do list for today. But for the last hour it’s the only thing you’ve accomplished. Everyone else has been seen to, all patched up and every joke about your new accessory ignored, even the paperwork has been finished. You needed a plan and you needed to know more about octopuses.

Firing up everyone’s best research tool, Google, you delve into the world of an octopus. Learning that their tentacles are actually arms and that they taste with them; that they have a beak; three hearts and that they can lose and regrow their arms. The last fact seemed the most important to you, it meant you didn’t have to be gentle in pulling him off you. But first you tried something a little less rough, getting into the shower. Figuring that he had to be feeling a little dried out you opted to get under the water and hoped it would encourage hum to pull off. It took some persistence but after about ten minutes and with some more, slightly rougher prodding, König eventually detached himself from your chest,

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” you gently splash some water over him and watch as he rolls around, throwing it all over the place. 

After a while of playing and laughing at the small octopus’s antics you made a move to get up as your wet clothes were getting uncomfortable but the movement startled König,

“hey, no, sorry buddy. I didn’t mean to scare you,” you’re reaching forward to pick him up when it happens, “ No, König come back!” he scurries off, faster than you thought he could and by the time you’ve slipped your way through the shower bank, he’s gone.

~~~

In the weeks following on base, you only ever saw König out of your peripheral. Always lingering but with no interaction. And then Kortac were called out. Months went by with no sign of him but every week you learned a little more about him. Taking aquatic hybrid first aid courses, researching more about octopuses and their hybrid types. Learning that they were solitary animals explained a lot for you and it was in your first aid courses that you learned how rare an octopus hybrid is. Most female octopus hybrids die after giving birth, it's something they have in common with the animal counterpart, so they mostly live isolated lives with only other females for company and it’s the males that keep the genetics going by taking a human partner.

The day König returned to your life was a bad day. You slept through your alarm and missed parade, your supply delivery was missing nearly everything you’d ordered, drowning in paperwork meant you missed lunch and to top it all off, it had not stopped raining. So when you heard the shouts outside the infirmary you nearly burst into tears. Instead your door burst open and six men rushed in carrying König. Time froze, you could no nothing but stare at him, at the cuts, burns, the pole sticking out of his arm. The blue blood covering the room in seconds. In reality you were already screaming orders and reaching for your fully stocked aquatic first aid kit. Something that had never been used, something that you had only gotten for him even though he wasn’t your responsibility. 

Hours passed; marked by vital checks, medicine doses and dressing changes. Hours passed and König remained unconscious, too exhausted to even trigger his body’s defences and shift into his smaller, more durable form. Hours turned to days. Days that were marked by the cold cups of tea left undrunk, the smell of antiseptic burning its way into your skin, the cold of his hand under yours. You had vowed to not move until you were sure he’d heal. Until he shifted and you could carry him with you.

Eight days passed in this manner. You as quiet as him, only your breathing and the machines made noise in the room. That’s when it happened, the heart rate monitor alarmed, the oxygen meter, everything in the room was going off but all you could do was stare at him. Now dwarfed in the bed was König, seven and a half arms, bright orange, and awake. And trying to run away,

“Oh no you don’t.” You snatch him up from the edge and immediately pull him to your chest, “Not this time buddy, you’re missing half an arm and even if you weren’t you lost so much blood I looked like a smurf!” sensing that he wasn’t getting away, you watched with a fond smile as he squirmed his way under your shirt and returned to his favourite spot.

“Right, now that you’re out of danger and awake lets get some food first. Crab or shrimp?” You asked the little guy, giving him a pet on the head and chuckling as he lets out a series of clicks. 

Walking into the mess hall meant you were rushed by every Kortac soldier there,

“Is he okay?” “Can we see him?” “Will he survive?” 

While not a very sociable person, König was well respected as a soldier and commander. The lower ranks looked up to him and idolised him.

“He’s fine, he’s doing a lot better but he needs some more monitoring. I’m sure you can all see him soon.” You let them all know that you’ll tell him they were asking and pass on their get well soon messages before heading through to the kitchen and to the freezer at the back which held the specially ordered food for hybrids with dietary requirements.

Dinner was interesting. If anyone was watching you they were going to think they were hallucinating as they watched you drop bits of crab down your top. The few sounds König made were quite, small pops and low whistles that only you could hear and you hoped it meant he was enjoying the food. In between feeding him you fed yourself and eventually it was time for to head back, König needed more medicine and you wanted to check for infections after your little excursion.

“On the bed please, I gotta grab your medicine.” Expectedly holding out your hand for him to climb onto as you pull down your shirt but he doesn’t move, “König, sweetheart, move.” More prodding, more pulling, all id did was leave you with little sucker shaped bruises.

“König, I swear to god I’m not doing this again. Get on the bed. Maybe, if you behave- we can go in the shower again” Bargaining was your last resort, you couldn’t check him over if he was still attached to you.

Slowly you watched as König’s arms moved, one at a time, to pull him up your body. Pulling harder at your skin than he had before to leave marks up your neck before eventually settling on your throat with his arms wrapped around your neck. Your protests were short lived as the second you opened your mouth he squeezed a little tighter, not relaxing until you stopped trying to speak altogether.

Your night continued like this, paperwork was done with the occasional ink drip, talking to patients was done with as few words as possible, bending over wasn’t comfortable and your top ended up soaking anyway as König dumped your wattle bottle over himself and then demanded more with whistles increasing in pitch as you refused. As you signed the last report you tried once more to get him off,

“You’ve had your fun König but I’m tired. I want to go to bed and you need medication so plea-“ your words are cut off by a harsh squeeze that takes your breath away. Louds clicks punctuated by the slapping of tentacles against your skin fill your ears before eventually you’re allowed to breathe again. Taking the hint, you make your way to the shower before bed, promising yourself that tomorrow you’ll find a way to get him unstuck.

~~~

As always, asks and requests are open. Feel free to send me stuff, questions, whatevers 💙

#bluespoonswriting #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #konig #könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #könig call of duty #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #könig cod #octo!könig #Octo!konig

[natalievoncatte]

CW: Violence and such

A wave of air rolled over Lena and she heard the telltale crackle of one of Lex’s portals. Waiting in the shadows, she watched him stumble into the room, bruised and panting.

She wasted no time, stepping forward and shoving the device into the crook of his neck like a stun gun. His body went rigid as she relieved of him of his stolen powers, negating the effects of the Harun-El serum he’d manipulating her into creating. Something else he stole from her.

He stumbled back and turned. She already had the gun out in her hand, aimed at his chest. He backed away, moving to the far end of the room, in front of banks of computers and monitors.

“Hello, sis. I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Save it,” said Lena, raising the gun in front of her to aim at his head.

A heartbeat passed. Lex grinned.

“If you were going to shoot me, you’d have done it by now.”

“I can’t let you live,” Lena said, feeling the weight of each word as it escaped her, weighing her down. “The world will never be safe as long as you live.”

“Oh, dear sister,” said Lex. “Take it from someone with experience. If you’re going to murder someone in cold blood, work yourself up before you get to the scene. It prevents awkward situations like this.”

“Shut up.”

“You might want to make sure you have the right target, while you’re at it.”

Lena let out a long, slow sigh.

“Put your hands on the table and don’t move a muscle.”

Lex laughed. “What, are you arresting me now?”

There was another soft puff of air, and then a shriek of rending metal as the doors buckled in. Supergirl stormed into the room, parting the steel the way a normal woman might part curtains. She stomped into the room, even more bruised and bloody than Lex, hair matted with mud and blood, eyes blazing with righteous fury.

“You,” she snarled. “Murderer!”

“We’ve established that”, Lex said, almost casually.

Lena still held the gun ready, aimed at his chest.

“You can put that down, Miss Luthor. He’s not getting away this time. We can track his portals now.”

“Oh, can you?” Said Lex. “That’ll certainly be a wrinkle in my plans.”

“You’re not making any more plans,” Lena spat, fighting back tears as she thumbed back the hammer on her revolver.

That’s it, Lex’s voice murmured in her mind. Ease the hammer back and you just have to touch the trigger and it’ll go off. I had it tuned special for you. Remember, aim small, miss small.

“Miss Luthor,” Supergirl said, turning to her. “Don’t do that.”

“If you take him to jail, he’ll just get out again,” said Lena. “He’ll just escape and kill more people.” She choked out a sob. “He’ll kill you eventually. We have to win every time. He just has to win once.”

“Sounds like a good reason for you to join the winning team, Lena.”

Lena put her finger on the trigger, and Supergirl stepped between them.

“Don’t,” she said, very softly. “He wants you to be like him. We’re the good guys, Lena. We don’t kill. You’re one of the good guys.”

“No I’m not,” Lena said, her voice hitching.

“Yes you are. I believe you, Lena.”

Lena met her eyes, their gazes linking with that same pull she felt whenever she made eye contact with the Maid of Might, and she faltered. Lex was right. She didn’t have it in her. Not now. Not in front of her. Lena lowered the gun and Supergirl gave her a soft, ethereal, profoundly familiar smile.

Lex shoved a Kryptonite dagger into her back, and Supergirl cried out in agony, green poison ripping through her flesh. With a savage grin, he twisted the knife, breaking off the fragile blade with a hideous snap.

Lena forgot everything but Supergirl as she collapsed to the floor, rushing to kneel beside her. Supergirl convulsed, her back arching brutally as she stared into the void, blood gurgling in her throat.

“Cooked that one up special,” said Lex, panting. “She has minutes at most.”

Lena did not speak. She raised her gun and shot him twice in the chest, two rapid thunderclaps that left her ears ringing, and he toppled back into the wall.

“Fuck,” he choked out. “Guess you do… have it…”

“Shut up!” Lena screamed, “you fucking bastard! Shut up!”

“But that’s not all, Lex choked out. “I’ve got one…” he coughed, “one more… for you…”

Feebly, he reached into his jacket and drew out a remote control, hand shaking as he strained to activate it.

The monitors lit up, assaulting her with a savage truth. She saw Kara Danvers breathe grown men off their feet, blasting the searing heat of a dead star from her eyes, snatch bullets from the air.

“Kara Danvers… is Supergirl.” Lex grinned out, with a rattling laugh. “She’s been lying to you… manipulating…”

Something glinted on his wrist. The watch. The portal watch.

Lena lunged, throwing herself at him. Lex pulled his hand away and shoved. He pushed her back and threw himself on top of her, sending the gun sliding away. Pinning her wrist to the cold floor, he knees into her stomach, crushing the breath out of her in an explosion of pain.

With his other hand, he rapped his chest. “Bulletproof vest. Couple broken ribs. Should have brought a bigger gun, Lena.”

Lex knotted his fingers in her hair, pulling savagely to turn her head, forcing her to look.

Kara lay on the floor, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. A low moan escaped her throat and she rolled on her side, looking at Lena with eyes streaked with putrid green.

“I’m sorry,” Kara rasped out. “I’m sorry, Lena.”

Lena stared, a hopeless, helpless feeling spreading through her as though she sank into freezing water.

“I for-“ she began, only for Lex to close his hands around her throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you having a moment?”

Lena flailed as he tightened his grip on her, her head pounding and her lungs burning as he crushed down her airway. Lena thrashed, desperate to fight him off.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die and I never told her.

With a scream of animal fury, somehow, Kara threw herself at him, bodily knocking him away from Lena, freeing her.

It must have been the last of Kara’s strength, because she collapsed in a boneless heap, moaning. Lex snarled, jamming his thumb into Kara’s wound.

“Oh my, I hope you weren’t using that kidney.”

Lena rolled. She grabbed the gun, rolled again.

Aim small, miss small.

Bang.

Lex snapped back, away from Kara, his genius fanned out from his skull to paint the wall. Lena ignored the sight, forced herself not to think about what she just did, forced herself to feel no pain as she scrambled to his body and peeled the watch off his wrist, locking it around her own. She had to hope.

The interface was simple enough.

“Almost there,” she told Kara. “Almost.”

The portal swirled to life and Lena began screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Help! It’s Kryptonite, help her!”

Alex stormed through, eyes going wide at the scene before her. She immediately began shouting orders. Someone pulled Lena away from Kara, forcing their laced fingers apart. Lena told herself that Kara was going to be okay, that her hand hadn’t been cold and limp and lifeless, she pleaded for it to be true.

The only thing she said was “let me see Kara.” As they bandaged and examined her, it became a refrain. A chant. Alex finally came in to the medical bay and looked at her, a little piteously.

“Kara’s fine, Lena. She’s at her apartment. We just need…”

“She’s Supergirl,” Lena rasped through her bruises throat, “please let me see her.”

Alex swallowed hard. “I can’t. She’s in surgery to get the Kryptonite out of her abdomen. We can’t go in. It’s very delicate and the procedure has to be done under red sunlamps.”

“Please just let me see she’s alive.”

Alex nodded gently, and helped Lena to her feet. Her head was pounding, her knees pained her, and she ached where Lex had knees and choked her. She had to lean on Alex’s shoulder to walk to the operating room.

They watched through a window and Lena couldn’t help but stare. Kara lay on the table on her side, and oxygen mask over her face. There was blood in her hair and she was covered in bruises -even around her own throat- and she looked so small, so delicate and fragile. Lena pressed against the glass and strained with her entire being not to cry.

Alex placed a soft hand on her back. “Let it out.”

Lena did just that, sobbing into Alex’s shoulder.

“You saved my sister, Lena.”

Lena wept harder. Alex waited for it to stop, for Lena to pull back and swipe at her eyes like a child and step back.

There was a bench outside the operating ward. Lena sat down and refused to move. Eventually, Alex brought her food, but she didn’t eat. Nia tried to cheer her, and Brainy came to give her more details about Kara’s condition, probably trying to soothe her.

Lena waited in silence, needing to know of her sun would ever rise again. She waited and waited until, finally, beautifully, they rolled Kara out. She leapt from her seat and stormed after the medics, Alex joining her moments later.

They put Kara in a bed and connected more equipment to her, and hooked up another IV. The red light coming from the ceiling gave the room an eerie, sanguine glow.

“Why the red lamps?” said Lena.

“She has too much Kryptonite in her system,” said Alex. “We need to flush it out before we can turn on the sunlight and let her heal up fully.”

Lena swallowed, hard.

“Is my lab equipment still here?”

“Yes, why?”

Lena turned without a word. “Brainy,” she called, without looking for him, “get down here and help me.”

In the lab, Lena began to work, drawing on everything she knew, while Brainy structured and prepared the nanites for her.

Seven hours later, she returned to the recovery ward and found Alex quietly bent over her sister’s wounded body. She might have been praying. Eliza Danvers had joined her, and Lena momentarily paused, a little scared of the older woman, for reasons she couldn’t say.

Alex looked up, spotting the syringe of dark fluid in Lena’s hands.

“What’s that?”

“A cure for Kryptonite.”

Alex blinked. “You cured Kryptonite poisoning?”

“No. I cured Kryptonite. She’ll never have to fear it again.”

Alex blinked, and looked at her mother. They both looked at Lena, who nodded and injected the fluid into Kara’s IV.

It only took a few minutes. The green bruises all over her body began to fade and her breathing steadied. She moved slighty, groaned, and reached out.

“Lena,” she whispered.

“She’s okay,” said Alex. “She’s here. Everybody is here for you, sis. Lex got you pretty good but the surgeons and Lena patched you up again.”

“Hurts.”

“I know.”

“Lena.”

Alex swallowed. “I’m going to go get the yellow sunlamps set up.”

“I’ll help,” said Eliza.

As the both left, Lena waited an awkward beat and then rushed to Kara’s beside, lacing her fingers with those of Kara’s reaching hand.

“Kara, it’s me. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lena sat down in the chair Alex had been using and smoothed back some of Kara’s hair, to better look into those beautiful blue eyes. Kara smiled softly.

“I lied to you,” Kara whispered.

“I know. I… I can’t say I don’t care but… it doesn’t seem to matter that much.”

Kara sighed. “I want to make it better.”

“I know,” said Lena, her voice cracking. “Kara, don’t worry about it now. Listen to me, okay?”

She gave a slight nod.

Lena sucked in a breath, feeling the ache in her belly and the burn in her throat. The desire to release these words warred with the fear and the anguish and the dread. She was about to reveal a truth of her own, one that she’d held so deep that she barely knew it was there until she saw the light dying behind Kara’s eyes.

The release of them was relief, like unyoking a great weight from her shoulders.

“I love you.”

“Lena…”

“No, please listen. I don’t mean as a friend, Kara. I mean I have feelings for you. Intense feelings. I… I don’t know if that’s something you’d ever want, but if it is, is there. If it’s not, you don’t how me anything. I’m still your friend. It’s just…”

Kara squeezed her hand ever so gently. Lena had forgotten that she even held it. She went quiet, waiting, feeling dread and hope swelling in her chest.

“Would it be forward of me to ask for a kiss?” Kara whispered.”

“No,” said Lena.

Kara’s lips were soft and warm, and though it was awkward to bend and place a soft peck on Kara’s lips, she did. She remained bent over the side of the bed, her forehead resting against Kara’s, sharing something quiet and fragile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” said Kara. “I will, I promise.”

“You already have,” said Lena. “I just hope I don’t screw this up.”

“You wont. I believe in Lena Luthor.”

Lena cracked a smiled, sighing, and ran a hand down Kara’s arm, reveling in her new freedom of touch, now matter how limited.

Alex cleared her throat.

“She needs a full day under the sun lamps,” said Alex, without elaborating.

Lena drew back but did not loose he grip on Kara’s hand.

“She’s going to get every minute of it.”

“Good,” said Alex. “Kara, are you hungry?”

Kara nodded.

“I’ll scrounge up something for you to eat. I have to find Nia first.”

“Why?” said Lena.

Alex offered a smile.

“She owes me fifty bucks.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #love confessions #near death love confessions #identity reveal #Alex is on Team Supercorp #kara danvers loves lena luthor #lena luthor is secretly soft #Lena Luthor loves Kara Danvers #softcorp #they’re both down so bad #I am once again asking you to read a tearful identity reveal #🥺 #🥹

[kingkenzieofmold]

The Jewelled Maverick AU: ‘Pink Starlight’ Ashley Jang

Hi, I have a habit of yoinking other peoples characters and making them into Alternate Versions of themselves. I have created many and have gotten the green light to show off and talk about! This is my Role Swap AU that I made with @mai-mai-lim characters! Ashley Jang and Henry Stickmin [Min Seung-Jae] have Swapped Roles.

Mentioned Characters belong to Respective Creators: Brutus - @smoresthehalloweenqueen Cameron Copperbottom - @rarestdoge

Ashley went on to be a Dazzling Thief Named ‘Pink Starlight’ or ‘Starlight’. She failed at breaking into the bank and was arrested. It took her too long to pick pocket a guard of a phone but she eventually lawyer up!

She heard about the diamond and was not about to fail again. looking into it she discovered the Toppats Plans to steal it and executed the plans before they could. Successfully stealing the diamond and picking up a Mary Popins bag from the museum old movies section.

The government impressed kidnapped her to inflate the airship. Offering her to pardon of her crimes, which is rude cause she worked hard on her criminal record and instead asked them to add more crimes after she done. She gets onto the airship pure blood thief and private Investigator style, heading to the records room she meets Brutus and they have awkward moment. Ashley disguised as a Toppat gets Brutus to help her find a file on the newest heist. He does and she has her file for Galeforce.

Eventually she makes her way to the cells which lead to the vault room. As she wants to rob the Toppat of their Ruby on top of their files. She kidnaps Dave by lock picking his cell and making him get into her Mary Popin’s bag of holding. Fiddling with the door, she can’t get it open and ops for the vents.

She in counters Cameron on the way and after some convincing they head to the vault. Cameron who is really suspicious of her is ready for if she try’s anything. Ashley tricks him and lipstick tasers him, yoinking the ruby making a get away. You see, Ashely did grab the headset for PI. She just never put it on but now in the dark photo room she does. Charles is asking and Galeforce is demanding what’s happening she explains that she needs a distraction and ask if Charles can hack into speaker.

He can and so she makes her move. Heading to the Cargo bay she encounters Cameron again pissed the fuck off and ready to kill her. Speaker hacked they end up in a Friday Night Funkin’ inspired battle. Ashley ends up winning and dipping out of the cargo bay doors. The files she grab were not the correct ones but she did kidnap Dave and handed him over to the government as a witness.

Of course the add crimes made her a prime Wall target and she gets captured by them. Without her bag she has no way of getting out just yet.

In the background between Infiltrating the Airship and Fleeing the Complex both Ashley and Cameron developed a rivalry to have as many articles written about them in comparison to the other. They are determine to be the better thief and have been creating elaborate heists. Sabotage each other’s heists and Cameron has been trying to learn ‘Pink Starlights’ Identity as he doesn’t know it yet.

When Ashley is captured by the Wall it is posted all over the News ruining Camerons mood, so he spends a week planing a heist to break into the wall and Rescue all the Toppats there. Brutus has to convince him not to bust in and they sneak into the facility. They get to the control panel of all the cells and Cameron being impatient key smashes the panel, freeing everyone including Ashely.

Running out of her cell she find the room where her bag is being stored and cartoon style climbs in and charges into her normal thief outfit. Running to the exit she is in a western face off against Cameron and the Toppats. About to have a face off, to which Brutus interrupts and yells at them that they have to do that later cause the Wall is about to be on their asses. Ashley and Cameron give each other the ‘I get you next time’ look before awkwardly exited out the same doors.

The Toppats make their escape towards there stole truck before Brutus gets grabbed by Dimitri, Cameron flipping off Dimitri distracts him and they get away. Cameron about to enter the trucks get pulled out by Dimitri, who is pissed the fuck off by Cameron. Ashely seeing this is not letting it slide and drives up on the motorbike slamming Dimitri with a roundabout sign. Silence before Ashely and Camron start arguing again before Brutus grabs him again and forces him into the truck. Ashley drives out to the small bar and ask Charles for a pick up leading us into Completing the Mission.

The space station launch site is a battle felid when Charles and Ashely arrive. Fighting their way through the chaos they mange to make it to the Space Station just as Cameron Launches it into the air. Managing to grab hook her way onto the cargo bay she climbs in. Charles yelling into her ear that she is going to high altitude and to abort mission looking into the cargo bay determined. She see him.

Seung-Jae, her cousin, who she has not talked to for nine years.

“Ashley?” He whispered unsure whether it’s her or not.

“actually, its Starlight now.” Smiling she jumps from the cargo bay doors pulling out an umbrella and floating down grabbing onto Charles Helicopter rails. Upon Climbing in Charles asks her what happened and she smiles a wide sly grin.

“meet an old acquaintance again.”

On the cargo bay Seung-Jae is stunned not expecting to see his cousin after everything. Brutus in the background looks startled at the realization that Henry Stickmin Knows who ‘Starlight’ actually is. This changes everything.

I hoped you enjoyed my little role swap AU I made from my friend’s characters. I have some more but want to wait to ensure I get the green light on them! I had to leave out a lot of details, as this was meant to be a synopsis. Still ended up way too long so if you made it this far… Hi! I wish you a wonderful day and hope you enjoyed!<3

Any further questions ask maimai please!

Bonus Art

✨Sly Starlight Emote✨

#the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin fanart #henry stickmin au #henry stickmin oc #thsc fanart #thsc au #thsc oc #thsc #thsc ashley jang #thsc henry stickmin #thsc cameron copperbottom #thsc brutus #ashley jang #henry stickmin #cameron copperbottom #brutus #the jewelled maverick au #role swap au

[scarasimping]

But have we talked about Pirate! Scara angst?

He knows he’s a pirate and he steals and gets in trouble but it doesn’t you from loving him, he’ll distance himself not wanting you to get hurt, if he got caught stealing something of value you would run after him and the guards, you know when they lost him were he would be and when you find him…

Insert fluff

note before you start!: I haven't mentioned it in anything yet, but in my mind the princess is under strict watch, so it's almost impossible for her to leave the castle and see scara....almost. I'm also trying to stick closer to the plot I have in mind for pirate scara and the princess’s story, so it's a little different than the request. hopefully it all makes sense.

also i was listening to work song by hozier while writing this i think its fitting for how scara feels about the princess.

word count: 1.85k

Pirate! Scara believes wholeheartedly that he does not deserve you. He's a liar and a thief; he can't wash away the blood on his hands from all of the battles he fought, where someone had to die and he couldn't let it be him.

Yet, these same hands are the ones you hold so gently, the ones that you bring to cup your own face and kiss the palm of. He feels as though being with him is going to stain your perfect and gentle soul, that he's smearing the blood he's taken onto you while you just smile so beautifully and tell him how much you love him.

He doesn't even notice he's begun to distance himself from you; it happened instinctively. His nightly visits soon turned to every other night, to once a week, until he stopped showing up all together. 

It wasn't like you could ask someone to check up on him, or else that would give away all the rendezvous you were having, so you really had no idea why he stopped coming to see you. All you know is that in his more recent visits before he disappeared, he seemed so much more...sad. He clung to you tighter, his voice cracked like he was going to cry, but the tears never fell, and his responses were much more vague, whereas before he would tell you all sorts of stories in great detail about his adventures on the open sea.

For a while, you thought he left your kingdom all together, without even saying goodbye. That soon proved to be false, however, when you overheard some guards talk about how they heard someone sneak into the people’s bank on the far side of your kingdom, and how they almost caught him, but were a few seconds too late. 

So, not only was he ignoring you, he was getting sloppy with his work, meaning something had  to be wrong with him, and you were determined to find out what. 

When the moon rises the following night, and the kingdom is asleep, you put your plan into action. Waiting until just after a set of footsteps passes your door, since there’s usually a large gap of time between each person passing, you step out onto the terrace and start climbing down the same way you had watched your lover do many times before. It definitely took a lot longer than he would take, too scared of falling and getting gravely injured to go any faster, but eventually you made it to the cold, grassy ground underneath. Pulling the hood of your cloak over your head, you made a break for the treeline that separated the castle from the ocean. After a short run through the miniature forest, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks and sand reaches your ears, soon followed by the ocean coming into view. Though there were many ships at the pier, it was easy to tell which one was Scaramouche’s, his being the only pirate ship in a swarm of those meant for business only. 

The crew members on night watch easily picked up your presence as you approached, as any cloaked figure nearing the ship would be suspicious and hard to miss. Though you hadn’t met most of them before, you could tell the man staring down at you from the edge of the ship was Xiao. Scaramouche had described him before, and said he was the only crew member with tattoos.

He was observant and knew who you were as well, staring down at you with an unblinking and piercing glare.

“I know why you’re here, but if I let you on, you won’t like what you’ll see,” he warned, and a loud thud coming from the ship drew your attention away from his face. It didn���t take a genius to figure out that it was Scaramouche making that noise.

You look back at Xiao with a determination on your face, your own glare matching his own. He sighs, turning his back to you and lowering the gangway for you to climb on. Walking on the ship without Scaramouche right next to you is definitely a  different experience, and one you are not happy about. 

Xiao watches as you approach the captain’s cabin, before walking away, not wanting to invade at a moment that should be private.

The thudding you heard earlier only gets louder as you approach the door to Scaramouche’s quarters. You knock softly, barely audible, and there’s no answer, so you assume he didn’t hear you.

You’re cautious as you open the door, peeking your head inside. Scaramouche is there, standing over his desk with his hands gripping the wood so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Crumbled pieces of paper were scattered across the floor, his bottle of ink thrown across the room as well as his hat. Everything was shoved off of his desk as well, as if knocked off in one fell swoop, and many other things were thrown around in anger, making a mess of his usually neat room.

“Did I say you could come in?” Scaramouche seethes, looking up with such fury in his eyes, it had you scared. He didn’t seem to realize it was you until after he said those words with such a bitter tone. When his eyes lay on you, they soften just a bit and a look of regret washes over him. He never wanted you to see this side of him - the angry and harsh side he only showed to his enemies or his crew when he was really upset.

“You..” he starts, sighing and dropping his head to avoid looking at your fear-stricken face. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you really think you could disappear and I wouldn’t notice?” You responded, shifting awkwardly where you stood, still behind the door. 

“Can I…come in?” 

Scaramouche runs a hand down his face, shaking his head at his own foolishness. It was clear you were trying your best not to upset him more, and that only made him feel worse.

“Yes, yes, of course, get in here.”

At his words, you cautiously step inside his room, closing the door behind you softly. Still, you were barely inside, hanging by the door and attempting not to overstep. Scaramouche sighs once more,  moving away from his desk and sitting down on his bed, head in his hands. “Sit.”

Though it’s true he was a man of few words, how little he was saying made you anxious. You sat down on the bed, keeping a few feet of space between your bodies.

“So what happened, dearest?” You asked him, breaking the silence that had grown between you.

“Nothing, I was just writing, that’s all.”

“Just writing?” You looked at him incredulously, glancing at all of the papers and the ink bottle spilling on the floor. “What were you writing that could have possibly made you so angry?”

“It’s not necessarily what I was writing, more so that I couldn’t explain everything the way I wanted to,” he responded, and true to his deceptive nature, you could tell he was only telling half-truths. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole story.

“I’m sure it’s not so bad, let me see,” you say, leaning down and picking up a crumpled paper from the floorboards, unraveling it in your hands.

“No! Don’t read that!”

Scaramouche snatches the paper from your fingertips, but it was too late. You had already seen the most important part.

“You were going to leave? And you were going to tell me through some letter instead of coming to see me?”

Scaramouche sits in silence, tonguing his cheek as he looks away from you, crushing the paper once more in his hands. It took him a while to form words, and for a second you thought he simply wasn’t going to answer. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before, finally, he speaks.

“It’s for the best…that way you can finally marry someone like your father wants who would treat you way better than I.” Again, he doesn’t say the whole truth, but growing up with a dismissive father and a mother who never spoke up, you have learned to read between the lines.

“You don’t think you’re enough for me, do you? Is that what this is?” 

His silence answers your question for you, and the fact that he couldn’t face you only enforced that fact. You scoot closer to him, closing the distance that separated you two. One of your hands rests on his shoulder while the other cups his cheek, turning his head to look at you. His face was tinted red and tears welled in his eyes. You decide not to point that out though, as to not ruin how far you had gotten to being able to comfort him. When it came to emotions, Scaramouche was difficult, to say the least, so the fact that he was almost crying around you was a big step.

“I don’t want some pompous prince or a rich man’s son; I want you.”

He simply clicks his tongue at this, rolling his eyes. He takes hold of the hand that holds his face and removes it, simply planning to let go afterwards, but you intertwine your fingers instead. When comforting a man that’s as emotionally constipated as Scaramouche is, persistence is key after all.

“Dearest, if you weren’t enough for me, I wouldn’t be with you despite the universe being against us or sneaking out of the castle to come see you. I only want you, so stop being an idiot and avoiding me!” You tried to reason with him.

He simply drops his head once more, and you lean your forehead against his. He bites his lip, holding back a smile as you insult him in this situation.“Alright, I get it, now drop it please.” 

A small chuckle escapes you, and once again you hold his cheek in your hand. His eyes look up, meeting your own, and you can see the relief flooding through him.

“Are you still going to leave?” You whisper, and Scaramouche shakes his head.

“Not yet, though you know I will have to eventually? A man like me can’t stay in one place for long.”

“We’ll figure that out when the time comes, but for now, can I stay with you?”

Scaramouche doesn’t answer; he simply leans forward and presses his lips against your own. The hand that holds onto yours tightens as he pulls you even closer, turning his body to face you even more. His other hand holds onto your waist, thumb caressing you over your shirt. He’s smiling as he kisses you, each movement filled with more and more longing than the last. Even without words being spoken, you can feel how much he’s missed you these past couple of weeks. He’ll allow himself to taint you with his hands that have committed countless sins just this once, and be selfish with you, because who knows how long it will be until his hands can’t hold you anymore. 

#pirate!scara #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fluff #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer genshin #genshin x reader #genshin drabble #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche #genshin wanderer #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst #genshin angst

[zvdvdlvr]

- in which they watch you die

☆ - featuring :: arthur morgan, john marston, dutch van der linde

☆ - warnings :: death, coarse language, death threats, smoking, murder, reader's gender is not specified, pov changes

☆ - k.j.'s diary says... this writing is both short and not my best work. sean maguire, javier escuella, charles smith will be in part two

☆ - ARTHUR MORGAN

my fault, all my goddamn fault was all arthur could think when he watched your body fall in slow motion to the ground.

"arthur!" dutch called over the loud gunfire. arthur was unable to tear his gaze from the warm blood leaving the four bullet holes in your side dripping onto the ground.

he told you to come into the bank, to help him get up to the roof to snipe the guards. he told you to leave the relatively safe position you were in to come help arthur with a job he could do perfectly fine alone. he just wanted you out of there and quite unfortunately, you died because of that.

"get up to the roof, son!" dutch yelled, shoving arthur out to the alley of the saint denis bank.

"'m sorry, y/n. god i am sorry. i ain't- christ. . . i ain't mean to getcha killed. shit, i ain't even know where you were," arthur mumbled. he climbed three ladders before he got to the spot that would do him well.

he killed every guard he saw with a headshot, spilling the oily bastards' brains onto the ground and walls of the glorified 'city of the future'.

not five minutes later the man arthur called his brother was shot in front of him too.

ain't that just the way, arthur thought. the man's jaw was sore from how hard he was clenching it, and his eyes stung like nothing else.

"let's go, damnit!"

the gunslinger was pulled to his feet.

arthur was pushed forward. "we need to get out now so there aren't more dead later," dutch said.

and that was that. . . for now.

☆ - JOHN MARSTON

it was completely preventable, what happened to you. at least from what john heard.

of fucking course he had to be locked up the day you died.

he had looked around when he got back, a wry smile pulling his lips thin. past arthur's shoulders, past sadie's unsmiling face. "where's y/n?" he asked, smile faltering.

sadie swallowed, eying arthur. "uh. . . y/n-"

"is dead," arthur finished. "agent numbnuts, uh, ambushed us. we were all good up until the end, adrenaline. . . adrenaline wore off. y/n fell behind me," arthur explained, avoiding eye contact with john. "they showed me two bullet holes they'd been hidin'. . . y/n died in my arms. talkin' 'bout you." arthur clenched his jaw and sniffed.

sadie looked uncomfortable. she'd gotten close with y/n and she had been crying alongside arthur while y/n spent their last minutes just talking with the pair. it's been so long since i've just talked with someone. ain't know how much i missed it, they had said. miss you asshats already, was one of the last things that had bubbled up from y/n's bloody lips.

"we're sorry, john."

"did- did you bury them?" john's voice wavered dangerously.

sadie nodded. "we can, uh. . . show you."

the rest of the day was a blur. a mix of voices, the slur of a familiar voice. john didn't know what to do.

☆ - DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

"goddamn it, y/n!" dutch yelled. the man's voice was hoarse from lack of sleep and water. his irritation stemmed from plans going wrong, scores being set-ups, and his own gang showing slowly showing their distrust.

"what, dutch?" y/n asked tiredly. they massaged their temple.

their most recent argument was because of y/n tackling dutch to prevent him from being shot in the shoulder. because of this, dutch missfired his bullet and eventually their getaway stagecoach was blown up.

"you have nothing to say?! no apologies!? we could be halfway to tahiti right now, y/n! if it weren't for you-"

y/n scoffed in disbelief and ran a hand down their face. "if it weren't for me saving your life? how much do you even know about tahiti, dutch? i trust you, i have faith in you, i believe in the power of this gang but please. we need to take our time with these pla-"

"don't you tell me what to do!" dutch strode over to y/n who was shaking their head.

y/n- clearly done with the conversation- made their way to their horse. from the faint lamplight, y/n could make out javier and charles both watching the interaction. micah tipped his hat to y/n; micah didn't talk to y/n enough to hate them. john watched dutch and y/n from the fire, already sensing something in his gut.

the anger radiating off of dutch was downright murderous. y/n hadn't even done anything wrong! john gnawed on his lip, one hand unconsciously drifting to his holstered gun.

"we are not done talking about this!" dutch grabbed y/n's arm and yanked hard.

"fuck!" y/n cried, instinctively jerking away from dutch's touch. y/n tore their arm from dutch's hold and, because of all the power that y/n used to get away from dutch, fell forward. a loud snap followed right after y/n collided with the ground.

a morbid choking sound fell from y/n's lips as their head made sharp contact with a rock. y/n felt blood rush to their head because of the odd angle y/n landed in: their head was below their broken legs.

dutch stood, parayzed in his spot. blood flowed out of the side of y/n's head, sliding down the dirt in rivulets. "i'm sorry," he whispered.

"y/n!" javier called, running to where y/n lie. charles followed closely behind, along with john and arthur.

charles set both of their lookout lamps by y/n's head. "be calm, y/n, you're okay," charles soothed, clutching their hand.

javier grasped y/n's other flailing arm, tears springing into his eyes. "you're okay. por favor- please- keep your eyes open," he begged. "mrs. grimshaw will be here soon, yeah? she will get you all fixed up."

arthur shouted for the women to hurry up because he knew y/n probably wouldn't survive this.

charles kept mostly quiet, checking y/n's pulse at random. javier was telling a story, talking about all the beautiful sunsets and sunrises in mexico. john waited off to the side, watching tilly and mrs. grimshaw and abigail share a look before giving arthur a terrible look.

dutch fled. he got on his bright white horse and left. he didn't know how to deal with thaf. he just killed you. you are dead because of him. dutch felt tears roll down his face. he felt the softness of his horse's hair. and he also felt the burning two foot hole in his chest because of the hollow, fearful look in your eyes after hitting your head.

on and on he rode, never stopping and never stalling. with no destination in mind, dutch figured he'd ride till morning then go back to help bury you.

you. you are his new ghost.

#x reader #female reader #x female reader #male reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral post #jules writes 📓🖊 #jules writes 📓 🖊 #angst #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 fanart #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #dutch van der linde x y/n #dutch van der linde x female reader #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x male reader #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #john marston x reader #john marston angst #john marston x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Hey. I’m tired. I guess you are too. Do you – do you want some H/V fluff with trans girls? I think we could all use fluff with trans girls. Let’s go.

*

Through the Mirror

Before accessing Villainess’ lair, you had to step in a hall of mirrors. It was like entering inside a huge crystal ornament. Knowing the owner, Heroine supposed it was meant to have some symbolic sense, something like “dare to know yourself before daring to catch me,” or some pretentious message like that. Granted, it was confusing for the potential intruders. Heroine used to hate that hall. Now, she was pleased to find out it was nearly reposing. There was no guard in that part of the lair. It was just her and her hundred twins. She secretly thought that all of them looked quite good. Her stance was so much more self-assured than before. Her brand-new suit was better, too. Dull colors like dark green or blue or gray had worn out their welcome. She was a Heroine, she wanted something that popped. The costuming department had grumbled, lectured her a bit about the seriousness of her mission, but she hadn’t budged. Eventually, they complied. Now a vivid pink and blue skirt floated around her tights.

“Nice look,” said a voice from the hidden microphone.

“Thanks.”

“Come on in.”

One of the mirrors shuddered. Heroine pushed it back and entered.

Villainess’ hidden place looked like a comfortable but plain living room. Pale brown walls surrounded a large table covered with notebooks and sheets of papers, another table with a TV on it, and a huge, old couch who had seen better days. That was all. Villainess was there, arms crossed behind her head, laid down on the couch. She examined Heroine with a critical look, then raised an eyebrow.

“White boots,” she said. “Bold choice. Is that some kind of message? Something like “I’m so skilled I won’t even dirty them with the blood of my foes?”

Heroine clasped her hands behind her back.

“ The message is I liked them.”

“Ah.”

“Not everything has to have subtext.”

“Most things do, though.”

Heroine pulled out two bottles of beer from her belt:

“Fine. So if I have two of these with me, can you deduce the meaning of their presence?”

Villainess held out an arm. Her guest sighed and stepped forward to give her the bottle.

“Can you spare a bit of strength to scoot over, or is it too much to ask?”

The dreaded woman that made cities tremble in fear didn’t answer, too busy to open the bottle without exercising any actual effort. Heroine shook her head. Taking upon herself to move the long pair of legs on the couch to the ground, she sat on the free space.

“Give me that.”

“No, wait a minute. I need to prepare myself psychologically for my inevitable sitting up.”

“Didn’t we fight for hours last week?

“Yes, that’s the consequence of that.”

Seven days ago, Villainess had suddenly threatened to explode all the banks of the cities, which was news for everybody. Until then, she was only used to rob them blind. Some bankers had taken offense of the sudden abruptness. Heroes had been called, even Superhero, but no one could catch her. At a last resort, the agency had remembered that Heroine had always kept her in check.

“So, how are you enjoying your last victory against me?”

Heroine took her own bottle into her hands, fidgeting with it:

“It’s nice. Most people are kind to me now. Superhero even told me to keep doing whatever I was doing with my hormones if they made me that much better.”

“Idiot.”

“He really has no idea how it works.”

She sighed:

“But yeah, seems like people is okay with the new me. All it took was a whole afternoon of fighting with collateral damage all around.”

“Eh, you know how people are; morals are nice, but spectacular is better. I had to make one building or two collapse to prove a point.”

“Which is?”

“I’m awesome. And so is the woman able to stop me.”

Heroine blushed.

“Not really. We cheated.”

“Nah. I just told you my plan in advance and you just told me when the other heroes were trying to ambush me. I’m calling that good planing. Cooperation is so much better than competition.”

It was true that it was her motto. None of the banks could have been robbed without the active help of several employees. Heroes were still trying to decipher the genius way she was infiltrating the security system while someone else was just opening the door for her. It was said employees who had helped the evacuation of the buildings before the official fight. No casualties. There was no need. There was never any need.

Heroine knew that since long ago, but since she had better fish to fry and villains who actually murdered people to stop, she generally looked the other way. They were warily avoiding each other, until the day Heroine had officially announced she wasn’t Hero anymore. The quality of the news coverage concerning her had wildly declined until she’d received a text from an unknown number:

I have a plan. Let’s show the world who you are.

It’d worked.

With a weary sigh, Villainess pushed herself back up. Their fight had not been faked at all, and she still was bruising everywhere. Heroine looked at her tossing back her long hair and finally opening her bottle.

“Thank you,” she said.

Villainess shrugged:

“Hey, you’re welcome. You were there when I came out. You gave me that doctor’s address and voila, it’s going to be five years on hormones in two weeks.”

“How does that feel?”

“I’ve never been happier in my life.”

Heroine smiled and raised her drink:

“Here’s to you.”

“Here’s to us.”

*

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

#hero x villain #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #trans oc #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #fluff #villain and hero #creative writing #hero and villain #heroes and villains #anyway in case that wasn’t abundantly clear this blog is safe for trans people #go support your local trans girls

[dalchiid]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 41

A story of obsession, fear, and lust. You're a maid whose Masters forbid you in meeting their guests for the night but your luck runs dry when you run into them and catch the attention of Lord Hoseok himself. He's smitten from the beginning and thus, your fate has been decided.

Pairing: Yandere Vampire Hoseok x Fem/AFAB Reader

Word Count: 7,089

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Possessive, Angst, Fear, Blood, Biting, Dub-Con, Eventual smut

Will add or remove warnings based on what's in each chapter.

I do not condone the behavior being exhibited in my work. This is solely for entertainment purposes and I hope if any of you are ever in a situation like this that you have the chance and ability to run away from it. Take care out there.

DO NOT copy, edit, or repost my work anywhere.

Chapter 41 Warnings: Yandere, Possessive, Obsession, Dub-Con, Smut, Biting, Blood, Cum Eating

Prev | Next

You still feel gross. A few days have passed with your cold kicking your ass but you feel like you might be getting better. Hoseok has been playing the caregiver role and making sure you're happy and comfortable. Well as happy as you can be given the circumstances.

The two of you have been spending your meal times in his room as per your request but it doesn't mean you have gone without seeing the others. Yoongi has come to see you one time while Namjoon and Taehyung have seen you a few times. If it isn't them bringing you tea it's just for them to check up on you to see how you're doing. You appreciate that, honestly. They've been really sweet with you despite you occasionally leaving them on delivered because you're too tired to check your phone.

In other news Hoseok hasn't touched you or at least he does but doesn't go through with the plan of having sex with you whenever he gives you his saliva. He says it's because he wants you to conserve your energy. Just touching you while you were high seemed to take a lot out of you and so he would pull back and just let you rest. Even in the shower he would hold off for your sake. You know he's been wanting to do more but he's been trying his best not to take it a step further.

Today, while Hoseok is out fetching you something to drink, you check your bank account. You know you're playing with fire by not putting it into use but the time to leave just doesn't feel right yet. You'll do it some day, you're sure, but for now it's a no.

There's a knock on the door and with a raspy voice you welcome them in. You doubt that it's Hoseok because he would have just come in without question.

The door creaks open before Namjoon sticks his head inside. Seeing him brings a smile to your face. One that lights up his features as well.

"Where's Hoseok," he asks.

"Getting me something to drink." You pat the spot next to you. "Come here."

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. When he comes to sit by your side his hand reaches out for yours.

"How are you feeling today, princess?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Better than the other days."

He rubs his thumb over your hand. "Still you could be better."

You smile. "Could be better."

"My brother been taking care of you?"

You look down at your combined hands with a small frown.

"Hey."

It takes you a second before you look up at him again.

"I'm sorry I can't be there for you. The way I'm sure you want me to." He licks his lips. "Can you forgive me?"

Your brows draw together. "Of course I forgive you. It's not your fault things are the way they are."

He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles. "If I could I'd be here for you every step of the way."

"I know."

There's a sorry smile he sends your way as he squeezes your hand.

You wish it were just you and Namjoon but the fact is that it's not and you have to deal with that. No matter how much you wish for something you know to not let it consume you otherwise you'd feel miserable about it. It doesn't stop you from bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles. He smiles in response.

"What have you been up to," you ask.

"Not much. Working most of the time. Now that I don't have you to distract me," he smirks. "I've been pretty busy."

You pout as you go to pinch his hand. He hisses in pain but laughs to cover it up.

"Sorry, sorry," he says.

"If I'm that much of a distraction then why bother with me?"

Namjoon huffs a laugh. "Don't pout, princess. I'm just messing with you."

You're still pouting but the way he smiles at you lightens your mood.

"You're lucky I like you."

"That I am," he says with a smile.

Loosening his hold on you he goes to stand up. You're about to ask him where he was going but he holds a finger up to his lips. A minute later the door opens and reveals Hoseok with a tray filled with tea along with little snacks. He doesn't acknowledge Namjoon as he must have already known his brother was in here with you.

"I brought you some more tea, baby. Plus, some crackers and cheese and those little cakes you like." He smiles brightly as you sit up and take the tray onto your lap. Once you have a hold of it he straightens up and turns to his brother.

"What brings you here?"

Namjoon just shakes his head and smiles. "Was checking to see how Y/N is doing. She seems a little better than before."

Hoseok makes an "Ah" sound as he rounds the bed to sit on his side. When he's settled next to you he dabs the teabag into the cup of hot water a few times for you.

"Careful it's hot," he says softly. He looks up to Namjoon then with a smile. "How's work been? I heard there's a new dealer you're working with? How's that going?"

Your movements still for a moment at the mention of their work but you're quick to snap back and grab your tea to blow on it.

"It's going as good as it can get. Jackson recommended him and I trust Jackson enough to give the man a chance."

Hoseok hums in agreement. "It's been a while since we last saw him. We should plan a get together."

"That would be nice."

You don't know who Jackson is nor care to know but it seems Hoseok has another plan in mind.

He looks down at you with a smile and a hand to the back of your head. "One day I'll introduce you to him. He's a great friend of ours."

You take a sip of your tea and look away without a word.

We'll see about that, you think.

Namjoon slips his hands into his pockets and leans back against the wall. "Any plans for today?"

His brother shakes his head as he continues to dote on you. "Just staying in with Y/N. I want her to be at her best again before I take her out anywhere."

"Understandable." Namjoon directs his attention towards you. "I should leave you alone then. Take care, yeah?"

You don't want him to leave but you know you have to so you nod.

"See you," you rasp out.

Namjoon waves before stepping out. The door shuts behind him hiding him away from you leaving you alone, once again, with Hoseok. The sound of the TV fills the air but your captor doesn't remain silent for long.

"How's the tea? Is it too bitter? I didn't want to put too much sugar for you."

The tea tasted fine. You take another sip before answering him.

"It's fine." A short answer.

He hums. "Don't forget your snacks." His hands clasp together as he stretches his arms out in front of him. "I wanted to bring you something to munch on. Something to hold you down until it's time to eat."

You place the tea down and look at the three small cakes that come in a wrapper. They're birthday cake flavored and he's right - you do like them. You open up one of them and begin to take little bites from it so you can savor it. You're enjoying it despite the fact that Hoseok has been staring at you non-stop.

Your eyes shift over to see him smiling at you and it's a little unnerving.

"What," you ask.

His brows perk up at the attention you give him. "Nothing."

You send a knowing look his way. "You have something to say. So what is it?"

For once he looks a little shy as he bites his bottom lip and fiddles with his thumbs. It's uncharacteristic of him and you don't know what to do with that information.

"Hoseok."

He releases his lip to smile at you. "Nothing it's just... I feel bad that you're sick but I've been enjoying taking care of you. You don't fight me as much."

Your brows furrow as you think on it.

You guess he's right. You've just been wanting to rest, get your high and go back to resting. He's been taking good care of you and you've been letting him. You did promise you would tone it down with the aggression but with you being sick you've really calmed down. The thought of that makes you purse your lips before taking another bite of your cake.

Hoseok picks a piece of cracker and cheese for himself but you don't react to it. He seems to smile around the food in his mouth and you don't know what to make of it.

Things feel a little domestic between you two. Something you hate but you're too sick to care. Let it be, you think. You'll just let it be.

You pick up your cup and sip some more tea that just hits the spot. It makes a warm trail down your throat and into your stomach. With the cake it tastes all the more sweeter.

Hoseok takes another piece of cheese with a cracker for himself before he brings his thumb up to wipe the corner of your mouth. You look at him to see he was getting to a piece of cake that sat on the edge of your lips and instead of brushing his hands of it he brings it to his mouth to lick off. The sight of him doing that makes you feel a little off but you try to not acknowledge him. Especially when he looks at you with heady eyes.

You clear your throat before swallowing more of the tea down.

"Easy there," he says. "I don't want you burning yourself."

You just grunt in response.

You can see from the corner of your eye how he keeps staring at you. It's unnerving and you make the mistake of locking eyes with him when you shift your sights.

His eyes are half-lidded and his smile is soft. He looks absolutely in love with you and it makes your stomach turn. You take a bite out of your cake and it just makes his smile grow wider.

"Hoseok," you say around a mouthful before swallowing. "You keep staring at me like that."

"Like what," he asks but you have a feeling he knows what you're talking about. He's just playing around. "Like what," he asks again.

You sigh before looking at the TV. It's some trash reality show that's on but it's had your attention before now. You try to ignore Hoseok as you watch the people interact but he laughs a little before leaning into your space and kissing your cheek softly. You catch him from the corner of your eye and see how he stares at you before giving you another kiss.

"You're too cute, Y/N."

Without a response you drink down more of your tea until there's nothing left.

"How's your throat, by the way?"

You place the cup onto the tray and shrug. "It doesn't hurt but you can already tell something's up with the way I sound." And you're right because it's still raspy.

Hoseok hums. "The tea should help with that." He taps the plate with the crackers and cheese. "Eat."

Before finishing off the cake you do as he says and eat the other snack he's brought. He takes another piece for himself but you don't complain. When you're done he takes the tray and places it outside his door like he's been doing as of late.

He closes the door behind him before walking up to you and smiling.

"Let's get you tucked in, yeah?"

Without much fight you let him baby you. You don't have it in you to go against him so you let him do as he pleases. Much to his content.

He goes to bring the covers over your arms but you lift them up to keep them on top. He barely raises a brow over it but he doesn't make a fuss. Instead he kisses your forehead, the tip of your nose then your lips. Focusing on your lips he kisses them a few times more before pulling back. It actually makes you wonder about something.

"Hoseok," you say.

He hums questioningly.

"Aren't you worried I might get you sick?"

His head tilts a little as he pouts. "Why would I get sick?"

"Because you keep kissing me and I'm sick."

Hoseok smiles before perching himself on top of the bed so he can straddle you. He pushes the strands of hair that slipped from the braid he did for you out of your face.

"I don't get sick easily."

"Oh." Is all you can muster.

It's a reasonable thought you had but he isn't the least bit concerned.

"I'm not one to get sick so easily. Not like Seokjin or Jungkook. I've always been like that since I was a kid. If I do get sick it's a pretty big deal but for the most part I'm fine."

You swallow and feel the way your throat aches. "Don't you think you're risking it though?"

The edges of his lips curl into a smile. "If I don't kiss you then who will?" He's trying to be cute.

His words make you think about Namjoon but you're quick to clear those thoughts lest he find a way to read your mind. That's something you're glad he can't do.

His hand comes up to cup your face where his thumb swipes over your cheek. He seems to grow serious and the look he sends your way sends a wave of discomfort over you. He looks concerned. Like a negative thought has struck him but he's trying his best to not let it show. You would ask him what's wrong but do you really want to know?

Hoseok licks his lips and gives you a small smile that barely reaches his eyes. "I love you, Y/N. I know I say that a lot but I really, truly love you. I don't know what I would do without you."

His eyes seems to grow teary and the idea of a crying Hoseok hits you and hits you in all the wrong places. If you thought you felt uncomfortable before then you feel so ten times more now.

Your hand reaches up for his to pull it off your face but he just laces your fingers together.

"Tell me you love me."

Your head jerks the slightest bit at his command.

He wants you to tell him you love him? Over your dead body, but instead of feeling entirely mad you actually feel concerned. How can you express the words he seeks when you don't in fact love him? Your heart's rhythm grows quick and heavy with the fact that you can't give him what he wants. And he seems to notice that because his eyes grow even more watery.

What was with him? What can you do to get him to stop? What can you do to appease him for the time being? The only words you can think of to say stand firm on the tip of your tongue. You think maybe you should stay quiet but they slip between your lips anyway.

"Kiss me."

His brows draw upwards for a moment before he gives you a teary smile and leans down to do just that. Kiss you.

Your lips meet and you swear you can feel every ounce of emotion he's bleeding in to you. His hand that's wound with yours squeezes you tightly to the point it has you gasping in pain. He pauses as your lips part and for a short second he does nothing but keep you close. Until you moan in pain his name where he then releases you so he can cup your face with both his hands.

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you. I Iove you."

He meets your lips again with his own and kisses you deeply.

You don't know what's come over him. This isn't the Hoseok you're used to. The Hoseok who always seemed so sure of himself. It's giving you whiplash and you have to admit that you're worried.

What happened to make him this way? Did you say or do something? Does he... does he know about you and Namjoon? No, he wouldn't act like this because of that right? You had to have said something to make him act like you're about to slip between his fingers. You just have zero recollection of what it could have been.

You pull back to breathe and place a hand against his chest. When he tries to kiss you again you keep your hand firm against him.

"Hoseok wait."

He pulls back to stare at you and for the moment that he looks you deep in your eyes something switches within him. He just smiles like nothing is wrong with him. Like he didn't just try drowning you in his love. He smiles and smiles and the sheen over his eyes seems to lessen.

"I know," he says. "I know it's going to take some time but I know deep down, you love me. It's just going to take some time."

He seems to have convinced himself this because he sits up a little so that he's somewhat hovering over you with a content look. You're shaken up though. The event makes you swallow deeply in concern.

Should you ask him what that was about? You want to but you're also nervous. There's no way he knows about you and Namjoon. If he did he wouldn't have let his brother leave so easily like he did earlier and you doubt he'd be so calm save for that little episode he had just now.

You lick your lips while your hand rests still against his chest. "Hoseok," you say. "What - what's wrong?"

The smile leaves his lips and he's just left staring at you with an unreadable expression. There he goes again. Hiding himself from you. It's hard to get a read on him when he's like this. It's one of your least favorite things about him. You know besides the obsession and possessiveness. It makes the hand on his chest twitch a little. It makes you wriggle a little beneath him in discomfort.

"Y/N," he says.

He garners your attention with his sudden silence and you wait until he speaks again so he can lower you from the suspension he holds you up on.

"Do you want me? Want what I can give you?"

Your head tilts a little in question.

Where was he going with this? Hoseok never does something without a plan. Was the teary eyes just merely a ruse? A ruse to get you where he wants you?

He's waiting for an answer and you contemplate on the answer.

You do want what he can give you, but it's not in the way he thinks. You want his saliva. You want it so bad and the ugly addiction that eats you up from the inside out makes your lips tremble with an answer.

He doesn't even have to ask you again. You don't think he was planning to anyway but you're quick to answer him with a small whisper. A "Yes."

His lips curl into a smile that feels so devious despite not looking the part, but he has his answer and he delivers his own with a kiss to your lips. A kiss where he slips the tip of his tongue out to run across the seam of your lips and you open up to let him inside.

Your eyes are shut but you feel something wet land on your cheek. You don't know what it is but you vaguely wonder if it's the tears he's been meaning to shed but you're too lost when your tongues meet. Too lost to care about anything else that isn't his toxic kiss.

The high lifts you up and over the moon that shines through the curtains. It's like you're in heaven though the reality is that you're in hell. For a brief moment you think you can live like this but you know this feeling doesn't last forever because what you have shouldn't last for so long. For the time being though you relish in the feeling he gives you. Relish in the way he brings you to the top before the inevitable drop back down to the ground.

Your hand on his chest goes to fist his shirt. You keep him close this way and open your mouth even wider so you can drown in his kiss. He's giving himself up willingly to you like this. He's always willing to give you all of him.

When you part to breathe your eyes open and you see that he did cry. That what you felt was a tear of his. You're too high to ask him why he cried but you don't know if you really want to know.

Hoseok takes the moment to breathe before leaning over to kiss your neck. His hands move to hold your breasts as he nips at your skin leaving you covered in his marks. Just as he likes it.

You moan at the feel of his teeth and gasp at a particularly harsh nip. You know you'll be left with bruises he won't allow you to cover but it's the least of your problems right now.

He sits up with a sigh and bends his arm so he can rest an elbow on your pillow and perch the side of his face against his fist. He just watches you now. Watches the way your eyes glaze over. Watches the way your lips part in pure relaxation. Lifting his other hand he goes to wipe away the tear that landed on your cheek and smiles.

"I love you, Y/N."

A small whine escapes you as your hand that was gripping his shirt begins to grow lax.

Licking his lips Hoseok caresses your cheek. Running his fingers over your face and down to your neck where he traces the marks he left behind.

"You probably," he stops. "You probably don't know what's going on right now but you don't have to worry. I'll love you for the both of us. Love us for the both of us. Until you can love me back. Just whatever you do. Don't leave me. No matter what. Okay?"

You whine again and nod your head. You don't even think you know what you're even agreeing to. You just know that you want what Hoseok has to offer right now. More of what he's given you.

"Kiss me," you say. "Please."

Hoseok's smile grows wider. "Whatever you want, my love."

The two of you kiss again but it's soft and languid. Neither of you are in a rush and you give and he takes and you take and he gives. The feeling coursing through you is outstanding and you know you can never have enough of it. Too bad you won't have it forever but for now you'll take what you can get.

Your tongues mingle and dance with one another. Massaging each other until you're moaning into his mouth. He moans back and by now he'd have his hand between your legs but he refrains from doing that. Instead he just kisses you and kisses you until you can't breathe again. When he pulls back he leans in to kiss your cheek then sits up to give you some space.

You're far beyond out of it and he lets you be as you are. At some point he stands up and goes off to use the bathroom while you're flying high. You can't stand looking without seeing up at the ceiling so you just close your eyes. You think you hear the people on the TV arguing but who cares? They're not where you are right now. Maybe that's why they're so angry. They just need to get high. Who knows?

When Hoseok comes back he slips beneath the covers to join you and holds you close. You can sense his eyes on you but you have nothing to say about it. Let him stare, you think. He's the least of your worries right now.

You're on a time limit now. Soon you'll come down but for now you're good. Hoseok has given you enough to hold you over for the time being.

When you slowly blink your eyes open it's like the high is reminding you that you're still up there with the world seeming to spin around you so you close them again. You're better off with your eyes closed.

Hoseok's hand that rests on your stomach comes up to push your strands of hair behind your ear. You think you hear him lick his lips before he parts them to speak.

"Let me know when you've come down."

You hum in response because it's all you can do right now.

More minutes pass by until you start to feel it. You're coming down from the high and all you're left with is nothing. You feel empty without it but there's nothing you can do other than to accept it. It's boring like this even a little dreadful but it is what it is.

You sigh deeply and mumble an "Okay" to Hoseok. He takes that chance to sit up on his arm to look over you and caress your face with the back of his hand with the other.

"Look at me," he says.

And you do. Your eyes flutter open and you're seeing him. The way his smile seems to grow the longer he stares at you.

"Hi."

You lick your lips. "Hi."

"How are you feeling now?"

"Okay I guess." You shrug your shoulders.

He stops caressing you so he can place his hand over your chest. Over your heart where he can feel it pound if he presses hard enough.

"Sorry about that."

Your brows furrow in confusion. "About what?"

His smile simmers down into a soft one that barely reaches his eyes.

"For getting emotional. I know there's nothing wrong with being emotional but I'm usually much more tamed."

Tamed? The word makes you huff a laugh but if he knows it's at his expense he doesn't show it. You doubt he knows that's why you laughed.

To avoid problems you just shrug your shoulders again. "People get emotional. It's life."

Your words seem to alight something within him because the edge of his lips tilts upwards into a crooked smile.

"Yeah it is life."

He looks around the room for a moment as if he's looking for something else to say. You take that chance to look off towards the side and you note the world isn't spinning like before. What you are hit with is the sudden urge to pee so you grab his hand and push it off to sit up.

"You okay?"

You nod your head. "I have to use the bathroom."

He pushes away from you to allow you some space as you stand up to head off.

While you're using the toilet you take the chance to rub your face with a sigh.

Hoseok inadvertently admitted that something was wrong. You don't know what made him act the way he acted and you have half a mind to ask him but you're stuck between wanting to know and not wanting to know. You could care less but if this will somehow affect your chances of escaping down the line or your time with Namjoon you think you should know what's up. Yeah. You'll ask him what's wrong. You just have to know.

You finish up in the bathroom and wash your hands. When you come back to the bedroom you see that he's staring at the TV. You stand by the doorway and begin to worry your hands between each other. When he realizes what you're doing his eyes snap to you and he frowns.

"You okay, baby?"

You purse your lips as you make your way over to the bed.

"Hoseok," you say as you sit down before him. "Why did you get emotional earlier?"

His brows raise the slightest bit at your question.

He looks like he's pondering on whether or not he should tell you. With the way his eyes shift left to right then back onto you.

"I figured you wouldn't remember."

You frown. What did he mean by that?

"I'm sorry," you ask in confusion.

Hoseok sighs but he pats your spot on the bed beckoning you to lie down. You do so hesitantly until you're perched on your arm like him staring face to face.

He grabs the covers and places them over you and tucks them around your waist. He's stalling. That you know for sure.

Breathing deeply he looks at you and gives you a smile that doesn't last long. You're about to say his name again but he speaks before you can.

"A few days ago. When you first got sick. You asked me something."

"What did I ask?"

He licks his lips. "What happens if I break your heart?"

The look of confusion on your face says it all for him.

You shake your head. "I don't remember asking that."

"I figured you wouldn't. You seemed really out of it." He brings a hand up to brush his fingers over your cheekbone. "I was going to let it slide but you were very adamant in wanting to know what would happen if you did that. I told you I know you wouldn't do that but it just had me thinking. Left me feeling concerned," he pauses. "You wouldn't do that, right?"

He's giving you that look. The one that seeks reassurance. It's a little overwhelming for you to see but what else can you do other than to tell him things were going to be okay?

You have no idea why you were both brave and stupid enough to ask that question. Like he said, you were out of it. That's the only explanation why. Now though you're left with someone who looks the slightest bit insecure. It's a first for you and it leaves you feeling unnerved yet powerful. Here you are holding Hoseok's heart in your hand. You could crush it. You doubt he'd let you go so easily but you could potentially break his heart here and now. If you know what's good for you you wouldn't dare. Otherwise his defenses will come up and you'll never see the light of day again. It's still tempting to do. You want to see him crushed but you won't do it. Can't do it. Not only because you have to play the part but you also realize you don't have a cruel bone in your body. You're not made to be cruel. You're just not.

"I can't," you start to say. How should you word this? "I can't do that. I don't see myself doing that."

There's a glossy sheen that takes over his eyes before he brings an arm around you to hold you close. He inhales your scent with a sniffle and you think he just might be crying.

"I'll trust you," he says. "Even if you don't mean that. I trust you know what's best."

What's best for you. For him. You feel so stuck in the middle. Like a fly caught in a spider's web. No matter how much you wiggle you just can't find a way out. Is it your fault that you're this stuck? Yes and no. It's a tricky question. Everything about this is tricky.

When he pulls back he goes to wipe his eyes before smiling at you. He doesn't look as worked up anymore and it brings you a small sense of peace.

You're used to the confident Hoseok and not that his sensitive side makes him weak but you're not used to it. All it does is make you worry.

The two of you go back to watching TV and wait until it's time to eat. It's not that long of a wait and most of the time is spent with both you and Hoseok making out. You're surprised he's so willing to give you the high more than once and you suspect it's all due to the recent conversation you had. He's feeling clingy and wants more of you. All of you really.

Your leg is hiked over his hip with him lying partially on top of you. His cool hand is slipped under your shirt palming at your breast - hardening your nipple to a peak. The occasional moan slips out of you with one of your hands in his hair and the other gripping the front of his shirt tightly. He's not far behind with the noises he makes. Absolutely salacious.

He pulls back a little so he can bite your bottom lip. He does it hard enough to make you gasp but he soothes the ache with his tongue. A silent apology.

The hand gripping his shirt loosens and slips between you so you can palm him over his pajamas. He's semi-hard and it twitches at the feel of your touch.

He takes in a quick short breath before resting his forehead onto your collarbone.

"Wait," he says but you're still touching him.

He has to grit his teeth before forcing you to stop with the hand he pulls out from under your shirt.

"Y/N wait."

In your high state of mind you make a questioning sound. "What," you slur.

"I don't want to go too far. You should be resting."

Your brows furrow as your eyes close. He's right but you're not in the right state of mind. All you know is that you want more and he's a somewhat willing participant.

"I'm fine Hoseok. Just give me more. Please." You release his clothed cock so you can wrap your other leg around him and pull him flushed against you.

"But you're sick, Y/N."

You arch your back as if you were in pain. "I don't care, Hoseok. I don't care."

With the hand in his hair you pull him up to which he hisses but it's over quickly when your lips meet again.

Hoseok groans into your mouth and as if your words were all he needed to hear he slips his hand between you two and into your shorts where he palms your sex.

"You really want it," he questions between kiss.

You can only nod your head before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

Hoseok grabs the side of your head to keep your lips close as he maneuvers himself so that he's kneeling between your legs. Your head can barely comprehend what's happening right now but you know it's what your high state of mind wanted.

He's quick to raise your shirt above your breasts and they peak from the cool air. The next to go are your shorts and underwear leaving your bottom half completely exposed to him. He takes the chance then to remove his clothes entirely before palming his weeping cock that stands at full attention now.

With your distracted mind you jump when you feel his fingers touch your core. He slips his fingers over your entrance to spread your slick everywhere and makes it easier for him to slip into you easily. You sigh at the feeling as he begins to stretch you out. He spreads his fingers apart with every pump until your walls begin to relax around him. When that happens he slips a third finger inside and repeats the process. He's not here to go faster than the pace he's already going. He's just concentrating on relaxing you for him.

As soon as you're ready he pulls himself out and aligns his cock with your hole that leaks more of your arousal. Your high state amps up the pleasure that you're feeling and so when he begins to slip inside your back arches. Even with the foreplay he's still a tight fit but at least it doesn't hurt.

Your toes curl as he slips more and more of himself in until he reaches the hilt. He presses his hips into you and leans over to grab your hands. His fingers lace with your own and he brings them up above your head to rest. With a slow and steady pace he begins to move leaving you to feel ultimate pleasure.

He's in no rush. He's just taking the time to feel you just as you feel him. This type of sex is new to you. You're used to the fast and hard feeling. Now he snaps his hips into you at a languid place but the pleasure is steadily building up.

There's something so sweet about this. You're not ready to acknowledge all of that but for now you'll let things be as is. This slow and gentle sex that has you pulsating around him makes him openly moan. Your lips part to let out a moan yourself. Your breaths intermingle with every pump of his hips. One after another. One after another...

There's a particularly harsh thrust he makes that makes you gasp but he doesn't go any harder than that.

"Y/N. Look at me," he commands.

And you do. Your eyes are open and take him in. You see the way his eyes have turned blue and you know he's feeling it. His scleras grow red with unshed blood but they glisten like he has to cry again.

"I love you, Y/N." He begins to pant. "I love you so much."

You whine at his words and in a delirious state you reciprocate his feelings. "I love you too."

That seems to do it for him because he closes his eyes in pure bliss.

You ride each other out - slowly but surely nearing the end. His hands squeeze yours but not enough to make it hurt. Only enough to keep him grounded as he pushes in then out. Despite it being new to you you find that you enjoy this type of sex. You just need a little bit more.

His pace picks up a bit with a shaky breath. "Are you close?"

You whine. "Yeah."

He releases one of your hands so that he can play with your clit. A substantial amount of pressure that he rolls in circles with his thumb. You're entirely slick down there and it makes the turns his digit makes smooth. You gasp out loud to the feeling he sends throughout your body. You're definitely close and he can tell with the way your walls flutter around him.

"Come on, baby," he says. "Give it to me."

You moan out loud as you hold his hand tighter.

"Ah Hoseok I'm so close!"

"I know, beautiful." He picks up the pace a little. Both his hips and his thumb. "Come for me."

You gasp over and over again - your body trembling beneath him. Your legs wrap tighter around him limiting his space of movement but it doesn't slow him down.

You're so close and he realizes you're about to come when your walls clamp down on him. So tight that he hisses in pleasure before he comes tumbling down right after you.

His hips jerk over and over with each powerful burst of cum that spills from him. Your walls massage his length and pulls from him everything he's got. The sight of you two is pure eroticism as you come together. Until there's nothing left but weary bones. It doesn't stop him from biting you though and taking your blood deep inside him. He rolls his hips as he drinks from your neck leaving you feeling just the slightest bit light-headed.

When he comes to a still inside of you he retracts his mouth to lick your wound and just lets you keep him warm. It's wet and messy down there but he wouldn't have it any other way. And apparently neither would you when you're this high.

Hoseok sighs before pulling out a move that makes the two of you hiss. He sits up and pulls your legs apart so he can admire your sex.

"Push," he says and you know what he means.

You push down a little until you feel his cum slowly slip out of you. He brings his thumb over to smear his essence and brings it up to his lips to taste. He takes it all in before leaning over and kissing you so you can taste him just as well. You're not a fan of the taste but you take what he can give and if whatever he gives comes with the high then you'll have it.

You kiss slow and long until you both have to come up for air. Your body feels heavy after cumming and because of the state of mind you're in. You can feel the way Hoseok kisses your forehead before removing your shirt off of you.

You know what comes next. He expects for the two of you to shower, but not right now. Right now you just need to relax. At least until the high leaves you. It stays for a while and you enjoy every bit of it. It's when you start to come down do you realize what your actions lead you up to and you're left feeling shameful.

You shouldn't feel shameful you think. It's not the first and will possibly not be the last that you do this. You scratch his back and he scratches yours. You want the high and so you give him your body and your nonexistent love. It's the high that possesses you to say and do wild things. You'll deal with these things another time. For now it is what it is.

You'll let him take care of you however he sees fit and you'll lose yourself in him. It's just how things are. You'll take it. Even if it makes him fall more in love with you every time you do it.

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #hoseok x reader #yandere hoseok #yanderebts #btsfanfic #jhope #jung hoseok #hoseok #reader #fanfic #reader insert

[theworldvsyoshiko]

Since I just linked it from my main blog anyway, I guess this would be a good time to do a State Of The Union for the colony. I usually do some kind of summary a week or so into each colony, but never got around to it for this one.

The fine seaside orphanage of Robot's Ocean is fucking huge now.

We've got multiple nested layers of defensive walls, a world-class temple and rec room, three geothermal generators, a tidal generator, a solar generator, a full natural gas helixien system for heating and cooling, a greenhouse, a genetics lab with an extensive gene bank, space for 5-6 prisoners to live in comfort, and enough freezers to keep about a year of food on hand at all times. And an in-colony hot spring, most importantly.

The colony's currently worth is about $400k, which is $50k more than any of the previous ones have hit, so it probably isn't a coincidence that I've needed to burn two antigrain warheads on recent attacks. That growth has stagnated a bit, which is fortunate, because as combat goes we're about at our limits. On the upside, we now have something like seven combat owlbears, a Scyther, a Tunneler, a Tesseron, a Centipede Blaster on the way, and of course Yoshiko's pet thrumbo Chiyo.

On the other hand, after investing about $15k into building and upgrading Spencer only for it to die trying to get to its bedroom, we're pretty strapped for cash. And we need some, because the map is just about mined out, and all of these robots and endgame weapons require a lot of materials. Unfortunately the map being mined out also limits our options for producing trade goods. The current plan is to mass-produce... corsets. If you haven't played the game just trust me when I say that this is a sensible plan, but we'll need to do a lot of hunting to make it work.

Following the terrible Tactical Nukes In The Hospital incident, I've rearranged things a bit. The short version is that we've only got one outdoor orbital targeting beacon now, and it should steer most drop pod raids to a less terrible location. Will this help much if another group shows up with a dozen rocket launchers? Hell no. Eventually I'd like to set up one or two extra beacons as decoys.

The population is currently 8, which is just about the lowest it's been in years. These kinds of things happen when four colonists get blown up in one evening.

Yoshiko "Happy" Russell

is, of course, a forever-22 psychic cyborg vampire foxgirl who controls robots with her brain. (Her actual effective age is now 34, but the game doesn't care about that.) She's currently undertaking her Dark Slumber in her Chambyr of Bloode for the next day or two, as one must when they are a vampire.

She's good at fucking everything now. (And good at fucking too; she's got an implant for that.) Her lowest skill is Plants at a 9, or 'solid professional.' She's rated as Expert or better in Shooting, Melee, Construction, Animals, Crafting, Art, Medical, Social, and Intellectual. She has 827 kills, 34 mechanical implants, maxed psychic potential with 10 psychic abilities, and wields a sapient EMP sledgehammer named Nalorgargur. Thanks to being a vampire, the only way to permanently kill her is to destroy her brain. With so many implants, I think the only other ways to even incapacitate her in combat are with an EMP or by destroying her liver. In theory you could make her bleed out too, but she's effectively immune to that. (You should go for the brain thing anyway, because she has pretty good body armor under that parka, but still insists on wearing a beret instead of, like... a helmet.)

Truly she is... the ultimate lifeform.

Toby Lang

Man, this makes for some real mood whiplash. I mean, look at him. There isn't much to say about Lang.

He was found in the wreckage of a space battle a few years ago. He spends all of his time cooking, doing doctor stuff, or handling the colony's pet rabbits. He's no good in a fight. Yoshiko adopted him and he adores her as much as is physically possible; her opinion of him is 7/100.

Actually though, Lang does have one solid accomplishment under his belt. During the last Diabolus fight, all of the blood bags prisoners staged an escape. Everybody who was good in combat was off doing that, and Lang was the only person nearby. So, he grabbed a shotgun and did surprisingly well at controlling the situation. By which I mean blowing their brains out. Can't get any blood out of them like that, but it's better than having them set the base on fire on their way out.

Saburo Richards

Listen, I can't stress this enough. He was like this when I found him. Unlike everyone else, he's an Animusen, a natural foxboy by birth. What benefits does this give? Well, uh. Not any, really. He's fast in the cold and slow in the heat, which was nice before the climate's average temperature got bumped up by 18F.

Richards is still 12 and I'm really hoping he gets some fantastic growth at 13, because he isn't good at anything. For whatever reason, he apparently gets really abusive when he's in a bad mood, because every mental break he's had has been an insulting spree. So most of the colony has opinions of him like

In fact, Olga and Yoshiko are the only two who would even be sad if he died, I think. Yoshiko, of course, adores him.

Raymond "Raywolfen" Wolfen

... has to be the most colorful kid here, as a slug person who was raised by wolves and then crashed outside during a space battle. Don't let the sprite fool you; the game just doesn't know how to render how fucked up she looks. According to her genes, she's got the body of a slug, but covered in scales, with the face of a fox, slug-style eye stalks, and constantly secretes a foul-smelling substance that decomposes corpses. You'd think that being a hideous slug/fox amalgam who smells like rotting bodies would be horrible for her social life, and you'd mostly be right, but Yoshiko adores her. She didn't even adopt her or anything. This happened naturally.

Raywolfen's only really good at combat, but that's okay, because we desperately need that right now.

Ben "Bush" Nitsiza

... is another adopted son who recently turned 13. He's great at melee combat, and got two mechanoid kills while horribly sick with the flu last night. He's... decent at crafting, art, and research. We're working on it. He's not decent at social stuff, but he's the preacher anyway. For now, at least.

Bush actually gets along with everybody else pretty well, which is surprising for somebody with the traits of 'snob' and 'too smart.'

Cindy

... is a sapient mech (it/its) that has only been around for half a year, as part of Yoshiko's ongoing quest to find true love. (This isn't working out very well.) As a hunter-killer mech, Cindy's only really good at combat, and is incapable of... most other things. It's decent with animals and research though, and is slowly learning how to do medicine too.

Cindy is currently flirting with Yoshiko about once every few days, which would be cute if it would just wait until Yoshiko considered it more than a passing acquaintance. It'll work out some day though. I'm sure of it.

Dae-up "Nerd" Kim

Is it fair for me to blame Nerd for the fact that he was chased here by pirates with rocket launchers? Probably not. But it still happened, and it got four people killed. And Nerd's a completely amoral kid who tortured small animals when he was little, so I'm not gonna pretend that I like him. I genetically modified him to be good at mining, so he could mine out the collapsed rocks that trapped Sora as he burned to death. Take some responsibility, you little prick.

Most of the colony likes Nerd, but he's really rooted in his intensely xenophobic ideology, so he hates almost everybody in return. The one person he actually likes is Yoshiko, and that's only because she's ridiculously pretty.

Nerd's actually pretty competent, unfortunately. He's great at mining, crafting, and medical. He's pretty decent at construction, and he'll pick up art fast if we find the time and resources for him to do much of it.

Olga Keuneke

... is 11 and a pretty recent arrival, so there isn't much to say about her. Unlike certain assholes, the trouble that she brought with her was a machine that warmed up our Siberian-ass climate, so I already like her. She's got a huge passion for animals, but she isn't learning much about it because she's not skilled enough to work with our animals. You can't start out by training predatory owl monsters that weigh half a ton.

#the world vs. yoshiko

[emphasis-on-the-oopsie]

(Laying on my stomach and kicking my feet like we're at a sleepover) bestie you GOTTA tell me about vampire ian au. Is ada also a vampire or is it just ian? I need to know for research

Unfortunately ada isnt a vampire for au reasons 😔 it would be really cool tho

Anyway au where ian turns into a vampire, and most of his life doesnt change

(Or at least he thinks so)

(Under a cut cause Long and also vague mentions of assault)

He can't go outside when it's sunny (doesnt really matter, he doesnt go outside anyway), doesnt need to sleep (an improvement, he barely does so anyway), and while he can eat human food it's not filling and not nutritious (also barely matters, he mostly eats junk food cause he doesn't have the time to cook for himself). He didnt even turn pale like in most vampire media (i just dont like this trope in general, also i dont want to make ian White)

All that really changes is that he has fangs, and he has to drink blood now

He ignores the fact that his heart stopped beating cause he's dead, and how anxious he gets whenever he has to go out at night to check on his mom, especially near dark alleyways cause what if someone attacks him again

He keeps the neck wound hidden. It's ugly and bruised cause he was struggling and trying to escape-

He ends up drinking blood from blood banks, which he knows is pretty shitty but it's more accessible and he doesnt want to make people go what he went through

He only drinks a little at a time, and eats human food to make him slightly less hungry (very slightly)

He also learns he can hear other people's heartbeats from far away, which is very cool and useful for his job, but also very bad cause he's hungry and he can't just go and feed on the patients

ada eventually notices that ian's being more withdrawn than usual so she goes down to the basement to check on him

ian was planning to isolate himself from people by working so ada going down to the basement was Not good.

Ada asks if he's okay. He can't answer cause he can hear her heart, beating loud and clear

He thinks about his own unbeating heart

Ada tries touching his shoulder, but he flinches and moves away from her.

she's really concerned at this point, and ian is...so, so, tired. he can't really keep this secret anymore, and he needs help

he tells her that something happened to him, but refuses to elaborate. he says that he'll explain later, when the hospital isnt so busy.

Ian brings her to the blood bank, and drinks nearly an entire bag in front of her

So ian confesses that he somehow turned into a vampire a few months ago. He's been trying to feed himself without hurting anyone, but it's getting really hard to do so.

Ada stands there for a moment and goes 'okay i can give you some of my blood then'

Ian is shocked at how easily she believes him, and is torn between admiring and being concerned at how easily she offers to do this

(Ian: you believe me? Just like that???

Ada: you drank blood in front of me ian. Humans don't do that. With everything that goes around the hospital i stopped being surprised)

After a talk, ian agrees. But only if ada takes care of herself afterwards. He feels very guilty of making ada give up a literal part of herseld when she does so much for the hospital

(They use needles to do this because ian is not sure if biting her neck would turn her into a vampire or not. Also it feels Wildly uncomfortable)

Ian becomes....a bit overprotective over ada's health after that. He insists on buying food for her ("I don't need to eat human food anymore. Besides, you're giving me something to eat, let me return the favor), making sure that she gets a nap every once in a while ("I don't need sleep, and clearly you do"), and making sure she is as fine as she could be while they're short staffed

Ada tries taking care of herself more, but because she needs to be healthy to work and to be able to give ian blood. Ian doesnt like that she refuses to care for herself For herself but. Baby steps

Ian wants to cover her shift sometimes, but ada refuses. Ian isn't really good with the patients, and ada's scared that if edega sees her work less in the hospital he'll fire her. Ian doesn't like it, but agrees to her reasoning

(A part of him wonders if his overprotectiveness is part of being a vampire. He doesnt want to get possessive of her, but he's just so concerned about her)

(Ada sees the way he flinches when she moves too fast near him. She sees the way he tries to touch part of his neck but his hand freezes before doing so)

#this might be a lil messy i have Not donated blood before #also ian Can sense heartbeats from a distance even when he's not hungry. it" #*it's a really cool ability #rhythm doctor #yuki's aus #paian #ian loves ada so much. he is so concerned. #ask victor

[ghost-rule0]

Mindfuck (Part 1/2)

Vash the Stampede x Reader

Another draft for the fanfic I wanted to try writing down. Again not edited bc I am still at work just writing down ideas. This time Imma split it in two parts tho, one focusing on exploring readers own defensiv strategies while also bonding with our beloved ex insurance worker and now reporter Meryl :3

The second part is again some fluff with Vash obviously and I might also trow in some Wolfwood and or Roberto interactions for the sake of writing them.

I still need to do more researche and draw more concepts for this fanfic to actually start so imma just bomb you with scenarious that I might or might not will later trow in the real book. Also yes I will probebly trow in isekai reader but thats just an idea for now

Enjoy!

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. The room was painfully silent aside from the faint sobbing of children and their mothers trying calm them down, voice trembling in fear.

Y/N knew this scenario more than she did like to. The bandits that held the bank hostage that she and Merly entered some hours ago were having an heated argument in back of the room while the other hostages nerves were tested at the fearful image that was infront them. The bandits had shot one of their own comrades that didn't want to share with them and now was laying dead in his own puddle of blood.

Human brains worked the same no matter which dimension they were in. It didn't matter if it was on Earth or here on Gunsmokes Criminals were always mentally scared beeings, so if stressed some tended to use the only form of problem solving they knew.

That just happened to be violance.

Back at home before she crashed the dessert here some weeks prior she was studying exactly that, using her observant nature and her deep interest in crime to become a profiler.

In a world where Guns and Violance was dominating the planet having the abilitys she possesed, analyzing heavior and seeing the patterns while also manipulating people to let her be, that was her ultimate weapon to stay alive. since the only other weapon she had was a metalic pipe and that barely worked against a fully armed bandits.

She stayed silent most of the event, looking around and calmly observing her surroundings. Originally there were three bandits. Two dominat ones and one subbmissiv guy. Right as they started this whole trouble she knew from experience some shit would eventually go down since most of the time criminals only could operate in groups with one dominat member that so happen to have submissiv sidekicks, so seeing the two man bicker over the leader role already set of the alarm bells in her mind.

Meryl meanwhile was also surprisingly calm, or at least she tried to be. The reporter wasn't used to beeing in the middle of conflict. Since she joined Roberto, Vash had always been the center of attetion which made it a bit easier for her to stay back and have less stress. But Vash wasn't here and she was stuck with the only other person on this god forsaken planet that was similar a danger magnet than the blond man himself.

But that didn't stop her from keeping herself cool. Seemingly more nervous than her partner beside her but still in a better mental state than the other hostages. For Vash for this matter, who was outside with Roberto and wolfwood. The trio hid in a alleyway near the bank, carefully watching the sheriff and the bankers wife talk about the situation. The blond man was basically a nervous wreck and blamed himself for the capture. Telling himself he should have gone with the two girls or at least get inside to save there asses. But he didn't let that get through, while his anxious side was bascially ripping his brain apart the gunslinger and rational side of him was already working on a plan.

Y/N didn't exactly know that but she predicted that he would do something like that. He cared for people too much to just let a hostage happen under his watch. But she knew as much as she wanted to, she couldn't put all the afford on getting them out on the boys. Which is why she already had an idea.

Prior to them walking off to the bank Roberto gave Meryl one of his darengers, which she thankfully had hidden so good in her coat that as the bandits demanded all weapons to be given to them they couldn't find one on her. And since she was the only one currently possesing a weapon it was her job to take out the leader while she herself took the side kick.

The screaming of the leader become loud and obnoxious enough that he had all the attetion of the room, so she could whisper to merly without anyone noticing.

"I think I got a plan" she whispered as her eyes were locked on the duo. "You think? What are we supposed to do its two armed gigants against us" she hissed silently in the (h/cs)nettes ears. Y/N hummed agreeing as answer as her eyes roamed the area. "You still have the gun Roberto gave you right" her voice dropping almost inaudible as the word gun rolled of her tongue, playing even more save no one would notice their conversation. Meryl softly nodded before Y/N spoke up again. "When I give you a signal you shoot the gun out of the bigger guys hand. Try not to aim for his fatal spots until really necessary. I take care of the second one..." she laughed air and soundless before looking at me. "He also has a gun how do you want to do that?! As soon as I hurt his boss we are swiss cheese!"

Carefully observing the smaller man as he started to nervously chew on his fingers she smirked. The gun in his hands he held firmly but his finger never was even near the trigger. He flinched every time his boss was pointing at one if the hostages when he spilled empty threats and ealier as he shoot the other bandit he couldnt even look at the corpse.

"That is gonna be childsplay trust me"

-

It didn´t take long until the argument had finally stopped and the bandits attetion was back at their hostages presence. No one dared to move. They didnt need to rope them up since all of the people were scared, scared too shitless to even try to resist. Most silently sobbed, some prayed, others sat in their corners and accepted their envidible doom and Meryl and Y/N meanwhile had gotten their hands on one of the belongings of the bankers inside. Working in a bank all day takes a lot of time and nerves since its takes full concentration out of someone to carefully count money and take care of the safes in the back. So it wasnt surprising one of them had empty bottles laying around. Collecting laying around juck was less noticable than for example asking the staff memembers for say cigerettes and lighters. It wasnt much but it was enough to cause the bandits to panic. The leader kicked one of the workers in the face as he held his gun to the poor mans head. “you useless fucks are even less worth than the little to no cash you have laying around in this bullshit bank! Not even the Sheriff wants to pay for your pathetic asses! Fucking useless shits!” he growled in rage as the banker cried and plead for his life. “Please..Please! I have a wife and children at home! Please do..don’t kill me” he maniged to croak out between sobs. The Bandit puts his finger on the trigger and grinned, in a widely spread and digusting smile. His eyes were could and his eyebrows twitched in amusment. He was getting a kick out of seeing the mans fear, begging him to not pull the trigger. Y/N knew that face and she cursed silently in her head. The man didn’t care for the money anymore. After killing his teammate he started to get a kick out of it.

He started to like killing people.

“fuck it” the girl growled digusted before jumping up, carefully having moved to the blind spot carefully over the past minutes, before trowing the bottle as hard as she could at the back of the leaders head, stunning him for a second as Meryl dashed forward and shot right trough the hand that was holding the gun. A loud and painful cut trough the silence as blood spat everywhere, leaving the mans head mangled and impaled as the reporter takled his screaming form to the ground and took his gun. Holding both the deringer and the mans own gun to his head, hissing in his hear to stay down or else he would have two more holes in his head to speak shit out from. The other robber meanwhile started to panic and point his gun at her friends head. “Get....get of....off him or else...else I will shoot!” he stuttered out. His eyes were wide and fearful but also paniced. Y/N meanwhile walked slowly between them. Having the gun of the panicking robber pressed against her forhead. As she calmly smiled. Her calm starring made him seemingly shake more, having the finger on the trigger non stop as he blabbeled more nonsense, trying to threath her. But it was barely understandble english since his stuttering made him almost mess up every word. If she didn´t knew better he almost looked like beeing moments away from having a panic attack. Shaking, heavy and unsteady breating, increased heartbeat and blurred vision by tears.

Yeah she knew all this systems all too well from her time back home.

Meryl seemed also to sweat, becoming more nervous for her friends safety as she carefully held the man down, recalling her words from ealier. “childsplay? you are insane!” She chuckled as she smiled at her “maybe you need to be a little insane to survive here. Ok listen I will stun the leader so you can get a good aim for his hand and dash to hold him down. And no matter what you hear, concentrate on holding the guy down and don’t turn around to me, ok?”

She swallowed hard as she mumbled “you are so fucked up” clenching her eyes shut as she forced herself to concentrate fully on holding the guy down, not looking if her friend would soon be silenced as a shoot would ring.

But it never came. The nervous mumbling of the bandit was interupted by a cutting, clear and cocky sounding. “you won´t shoot me, you don’t have the guts to do soo”

The gun fell from his almost forcefully shaking hands, right before the cocky grinning Y/N grabbed him and pulled him forwards. Punching him right in the face, covering her fist with lots of his blood, probebly breaking his nose, before his limp body hit the ground.

---

#vash x reader #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #meryl #another draft for the story yaaay

[magicmarkerz]

American Gods novel study under the cut :3

yes, i handed this in for a grade.

five pages of chaos. enjoy!

American Gods – Neil Gaiman

Published by William Morrow (New York, 2001)

Awards: Hugo Award for best novel (2002), Locus Award for best fantasy novel (2002), Nebula Award for best novel (2003), Bram Stoker Award for best novel (2001)

Genres: Fantasy/Horror

Protagonist: Shadow Moon

Aliases: Puppy (by Laura), Mike Ainsel (false name while he lived in Lakeside), Baldur (confirmed in a later novella)

Family: Unnamed Mother, Mr. Wednesday (father), Laura McCabe (wife, deceased, (temporarily reanimated))

Age: 32 (beginning of novel)

Status: Reincarnated (it’s a long story)

Shadow is a tall, imposing black man (he’s a lovely man, don’t let appearances fool you.) who was recently released from prison after his wife’s death. His plan is to return home, where his old job as a personal fitness trainer is waiting for him, but his entire life is thrown into a blender when he meets Mr. Wednesday. All Shadow wants is some semblance of normality, of what his life was like before prison, but alas.

Antagonist 1: The New Gods/The Opposing Side (person vs society, person vs supernatural, person vs technology – the new gods are really confusing.)

The new gods want to eliminate the old gods because they’re afraid of being forgotten, so, by extension, they want to eliminate Shadow, who is working with the old gods.

Old gods will always exist at least a little bit, even as a wisp of energy, because they can’t be forgotten. They’re remembered through stories and tales and carvings and art and everything. They’ll always be around. The new gods, on the other hand, will eventually disappear. They’re created through the ideology that anything you worship or dedicate time to can be turned into a god. If you spend a few minutes making sure your car is in tip-top shape every day, you’re worshipping it. If you do it enough, your car could be the personification of a god. If you spend a little bit too long watching TV, yep, you guessed it. TV is now a god! (Well, her name is Media, but you get the idea.) It’s the same with drugs, with money, with everything.

Antagonist 2: Mr. Wednesday (person vs person, person vs supernatural)

Aliases: Odin, Wednesday, Grimnir/Grimm, Uncle Emmerson Borson (by Shadow when he lived in Lakeside)

Family: Shadow Moon (Son), hundreds of unnamed children (just like Zeus, Mr. Wednesday is a big ol’ whore – your words, not mine.)

Age: It’s complicated.

Status: He has multiple forms but is alive as long as he is remembered at least a little bit. He misses the blood sacrifices, though.

In the beginning of the story, Shadow is wary of Wednesday, but quickly becomes acclimated to him. As the story goes on, Shadow gets closer to Wednesday, even assisting him in various crimes, and mourning his death (spoiler alert!). When Shadow first agreed to work for Wednesday, he was told that in the case of Wednesday dying, Shadow would have to take his vigil. When Wednesday does die, Shadow volunteers to take the vigil, and is tied to the World Tree for nine days and nine nights without food or water.

Antagonist 3: Shadow (person vs self)

Throughout the book, Shadow argues with himself over many things. Whether or not to work for Wednesday, whether or not to rob the bank, whether or not to trust his wife’s reincarnated rotting body’s advice after she cheated on him (it wasn’t her fault, the old gods coerced her into it.), whether or not to take Wednesday’s vigil. It goes on, and on, and on. He always chooses the more stupid and dangerous option, obviously, but it’s always a fight.

Plot Summary

Shadow is released from prison on parole after his wife, Laura, is pronounced dead after a car crash. Shadow is planning to take a plane back to his hometown, but in the seat next to him is a man that gives him the creeps. Shadow doesn’t get back on the plane after they touch down to do a transfer, and instead goes to a bar, where the man from before, Wednesday, is waiting. Wednesday offers Shadow a position as his assistant, and, after some convincing and mead, Shadow agrees. (Trigger event) Wednesday convinces Shadow to partake in various crimes as the war with the new gods approaches, and Shadow willingly follows him. At one point, Shadow lives in a quaint town called Lakeside, and during his residence, a girl goes missing. After a few months, Shadow is arrested for breaking parole and travelling across the USA with Wednesday. Mr. Ibis and Mr. Jacquel come to collect him, and they reveal that Wednesday has been killed by the new gods, and Shadow is to accompany them to collect him body. They collect it, and Shadow volunteers to take Wednesday’s vigil. He dies upon the life tree but is revived soon after by Whiskey Jack (Wisakedjak). Shadow ventures to House on The Rock, where the war is to take place, and finds Laura, who has just stabbed Loki. It’s reavealed that Loki was behind the war, and the war was never supposed to be a war, it was going to be a blood sacrifice to Loki and Wednesday (Odin). (Crisis) Shadow gives a speech to the gods, new and old, and they decide not to fight. Shadow returns to Lakeside, where he realizes the missing girl is in the trunk of an old truck out on the ice, which is a yearly tradition – every year they drive an old klunker out onto the ice and place bets on when it’s going to melt. Shadow opens the trunk and finds the girl, who is long dead, but the ice begins to crack and he goes under. He’s rescued by Hinzelmann, the man who drives the truck out every year. Hinzelmann warms Shadow up and reveals that he is the reincarnation of a dead child god, and every year he kills a child as a sacrafice to himself. (Climax) A young policeman hears the conversation, and shoots Hinzelmann in self defense, but is afraid of repurcussions, so he burns down the house to destroy evidence. He helps Shadow escape Lakeside unnoticed, and Shadow moves to Europe, and meets the old version of Wednesday, and returns his glass eye to him. (Resolution)

Theme – It’s a bit confusing, but bear with me.

The choices we make affect the things that happen to us/in the world around us.

When the gods coerce Laura into cheating on Shadow, they guarantee Shadow meeting Wednesday.

When Shadow drops a coin into Laura’s grave, and Laura is reincarnated as a dead body, Shadow guarantees Mad Sweeney’s suicide.

When Shadow chooses to risk playing checkers against Czernobog, Czernobog agrees to fight on his side in the war.

Response Entries

Shadow’s growth throughout American Gods

In the beginning, Shadow is a kind but stubborn man, and is rigid in his beliefs. He isn’t likely to bend to someone’s will unless he’s pressed or if it’s of some benefit to him. As the novel progresses, he becomes more flexible, and more of his own person. He doesn’t believe that Wednesday is Odin in the beginning, and he thinks that there’s absolutely no way that his dead wife is sitting in his dingy hotel room. But when you look in the last few parts, as he meets new old gods (old gods who are new to him, not the new gods.), he asks questions. He asks where they’re from, he wonders about their mythological origins, he questions how they came to be in America, of all the places in the world.

In the beginning, he does Wednesday’s bidding, albeit reluctantly. As he becomes closer with Wednesday, he grows as a person, and does what he says without questioning. (well, maybe a few questions.)

Sam’s Flowers: Neil Gaiman’s Writing Style

“Then he ran after her, and put the flowers into Sam’s hands. He hurried away, so she could not give them back. Then he walked up the hill back to his car and he took Highway 90 south to Chicago. He drove at slightly under the speed limit. It was the last thing he had to do. He was in no hurry.”

In this scene, Shadow is delivering flowers to Sam as a thank you, and as a final goodbye. When the police came to take Shadow away for breaking parole, Sam came to his defense. Maybe she felt that she owed it to him, because he picked her up once when she was hitchhiking, and got her home safe, or maybe she really did want to save him. Either way, Shadow’s flowers were a nice gesture. I think Neil Gaiman wanted the reader to feel a sense of finality, and of closure. I’ll be honest, I thought this scene was sad. Shadow gives her the flowers, and she doesn’t even see him, or have time to say thank you. To her and her girlfriend, the flowers just appeared. I think Sam knew, at least deep down, who gave them to her, and that’s what makes the scene feel so sad to me. It’s a final goodbye. If I’m right about what Neil Gaiman was trying to do, then he was definitely successful, because I felt oddly moved by that paragraph.

Personal Reflection

American Gods is easily one of the best books I’ve read this year. I really only picked it out because I recognized Neil Gaiman’s name from Good Omens, Coraline, and The Graveyard Book, but I don’t regret it. His writing style is beautiful and interesting, the book is full of incredible information, and the characters are beautifully written, flawed, and so incredibly human. It was an incredibly dense book, filled with plot twists and sharp changes in every direction, but I loved every minute of it.

The entire book felt like a rollercoaster. There are scenes that have hardly anything to contribute to the plot, but are full of emotion and amazing concepts, such as the scene with Salim and the Jinn. I say it doesn’t contribute anything, but it shows how starved the gods are, and how much they’re willing to do to leave America, or at least be worshipped again. Scenes with Bilquis the Hooker, for example, show the desire gods have to be seen, but they also show how easy it is for them to be killed off once they’re forgotten. There are scenes that have nothing to do with the gods that still make you feel inexplicably moved, like when Shadow delivers Sam the flowers, or even when he’s just sitting in his hotel room talking to Laura.

American Gods is bursting at the seams with information and trivia about the different mythologies. It begins with only Norse mythology, and then BAM. Egyptian, Middle Eastern, African, and Greek characters are in it. Jesus is even mentioned at one point. You get the opportunity to learn about so many different incarnations of gods, and Neil even throws his own twist on the characters, and the ways they’ve come to be in North America as opposed to their home countries.

The way Neil Gaiman writes his characters is amazing. I could go on and on about the characterization of Shadow, or Wednesday, or even Sam, but I’ll discuss one of the more unsung heroes. Laura. In the beginning, Laura is just the woman who Shadow went to prison for, the woman who cheated on him. But once she’s revived, she’s so much more than that. She’s incredibly loyal to Shadow, and was only coerced into cheating on him by the old gods to guarantee Shadow becoming Wednesday’s right hand man. Shadow revives her, when all she really wants is her final, eternal rest. She follows him across America, never wavering. She’s rotting, and slowly falling to pieces, but she helps him. She genuinely feels deep remorse for what she’s done, and yes, she’s cold, and dead, and repulsing, but that’s what makes her so uniquely Laura. All of Neil’s characters are like this. They have genuine personalities, and make you feel things.

Part of the reason the old gods want a sacrifice is because they’re being forgotten, and they don’t know how else to reinforce their memories. Well, Neil Gaiman ensures they’ll be remembered forever through American Gods, which I’m not likely to forget any time soon.

@nico-the-overlord

#american gods #neil gaiman #schoolposting

[averagewriter-inthedark]

A Princess Among Basterds 👑| Inglourious Basterds Imagine (700 follower celebration)

Takes place during right before chapter Operation Kino in IB

My IB masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Female!Princess OC x The Basterds (platonic), slight Female!Princess OC x Wilhelm Wicki if you squint.

Content warnings: graphic injury to hand, implied violence, profanity, blood, mentions of death and hate crimes (read with caution), inaccurate history to go with the story | Female OC (she/her) | wc: about 5k

Premise: The Basterds were about to receive the mission of their lives when they were summoned to General Banks of the OSS. The goal: blow up a cinema that several of Hitlers top associates would be attending. But what the Basterds did not expect in their meeting with Banks would to be face to face with a member of a royal family who is on a path for revenge against one of their targets.

Note: so I had an idea of making this a series originally but I have so many ongoing series right now I need to finish that I just changed it to suit a single imagine. This could eventually become a miniseries depending on the feedback but right now I don’t have future plans to make it one (or at least until after I finish my top gun maverick and dark phoenix series)

Thank you so much for 700 followers !!! I started this blog back in January and can’t believe it’s grown in so little time! I appreciate all the love and support and thank you for the kind words and feedback on my works ♥️🥹 I have so much planned and can’t wait to share with you all!

————————————-

“Raine, you better have a goddamn good explanation for the shit show you just pulled out there,” are never the words one wants to hear as they enter a meeting with their superior.

For Lt. Aldo Raine, it was becoming a habit.

General Banks, leader of the Office of Strategic Services for the United States Army, was less than pleased when the Basterds made their way to camp after weeks of being in enemy territory. It wasn’t like they weren’t doing what was expected of them….it was just they gave no warning in advance.

Aldo shrugged sheepishly, “just doin’ ma job, sir.”

“Yeah I can tell. You know, I’ve chewed your ass out more than any other man I have under my command. You’re lucky what you’re doing is working, otherwise I would’ve had you on the next plane back to America.”

With his hands on his lips, Aldo bit back a smile. Behind him the other men shuffled awkwardly though few like Hugo, Donny, and Wicki appeared amused.

“I got a new assignment for you gentlemen,” the General announces, slapping a file down on the table for Aldo to pick up. “Recon in the Village of Nadine. This is a joint effort with the Brits.”

Immediately there’s groans from the audience, Donny muttering, “Not the Tommy’s.” With one look from Banks they shut up. Aldo flipped through the file lazily before dropping it back down, “What’s the plan?”

“Well for the next two weeks you’ll be scouting the area. Get a feel for it until it’s time for the mission. The Brits will let me know when they’ll be sending in their spy.”

“What’s the point of this mission?,” Donny asks from the side, stealing the file to see the words ‘Operation Kino,’ written in bold on the Manila colored folder.

“To put it simple,” Banks pauses to light a cigar, “blowing up a cinema full of Hitler’s Third Riech.” Now that had their attention. The folder nearly spilled from Donny’s hands, and Hugo dropped the knife he was sharpening.

“You’re serious?” Hirschberg couldn’t help but slip out.

“As serious as the war happening in our backyard,” Banks puffs out smoke from the cigar. “Goebbels is hosting a premier for one of his propaganda films in Paris. Many of Hitlers associates will be in attendance, so what better way to take them all out than crashing the party by sending you in. A German film star turned allied spy is the other contact, she’ll be joining you on the planned rendezvous. Word is she will arrive in Nadine the night before the premier.”

“Well butter me up like a French baguette,” Aldo clapped his hands. The other Basterds had blinked out of their shock and were also celebrating the news. It was an exciting mission at first glance. One that would surely go down in history.

Before anyone could say anything else, a young soldier bursts into the room, stands at attention to salute and in one breath says, “Sir, I just received word from the infirmary that—,” he is abruptly cut off when a woman—who looked to be in her mid to late thirties—pushes past him despite the yells of protest behind her.

All the Basterds stagger back at the sight. The woman’s dark hair was a mess, clothes dirty and tarnished, and there was a nasty cut to her temple that was dripping blood down her face, not to mention a bruise forming on her jaw below a split lip. The most shocking was the fact a knife was impaling her hand. Utivitch had to look away, moaning like he was about to spill his guts.

“Ma’am, we need to get you back to the infirmary,” a medic and soldier flanked the unknown woman’s side. The medic had gauze in his hands, shouting angrily, “You cannot just barge in—!”

“It’s alright,” Banks raises a hand, drawing confusion from everyone minus her. The woman, now standing a few paces from the table, remained stoic as she stared at the general. He takes another puff of his cigar, “See to her in here.”

“B-but, sir, I-I don’t have my materials.”

“Then go fucking get them,” Banks said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Blushing, the medic scurried away while the remaining soldier stood awkwardly. “You can go back to your post, soldier.” The young man, though hesitant, salutes and exits, leaving only the general, the Basterds, and the woman in the room.

“Quite the entrance don’t you think,” Banks glances her over, shaking his head at her estate. He should’ve known sending her out would be a mistake, but she was persistent. With a curse he asks, “What the fuck happened? I told you to lay low, get what you needed and come back.”

“And I did just that,” her voice had a thick accent to it that raised many eyebrows. It wasn’t British for one thing and it wasn’t French or German. So what the hell was it?

“And nearly got killed from what I can see.”

“Please,” she scoffed, offense all in her tone. “This was just a scratch.” That’s when her eyes traveled over to the eight men standing against the wall. There was a mix of expressions ranging from shock, confusion, and curiosity. Her lips curled up in a smirk. “You should see the other guy.”

At that moment the medic returns with a first aid kit. The poor guy was like a fish out of water, not really knowing how to act as if it was his first time tending to an injured person. With a roll of the eyes the woman pulls out a chair, sitting down and tilting her head up so he could work on bandaging her forehead.

“Don’t you want me to remove the knife first?”

She returned the question with a pointed look, “Do you think you have the guts to do it at this moment? I didn’t think so. Fix this first so you can mentally prepare yourself so I don’t have you fucking puking all over me. ¿Comprendido?” It was obvious he didn’t understand the last phrase and the woman let out an annoyed sigh. “Oh Dios mío—just get to fucking work.”

Though the Basterds didn’t know what the phrase translated to, they were able to pick up on the fact it was Spanish the woman was speaking. Now the accent made sense.

But the question remained: why the fuck was a Spanish woman at the camp and what was she to Banks.

They all watched as the woman slightly flinched when the medic pressed a cloth to the open wound to stop the bleeding. Pain consorted her face, but she fought it and turned her attention back to the general.

“What did you find out?”

“I assume you already know,” eyes flickered to the file on the table. With a narrowed expression she asks, “Would you have told me if I hadn’t found out?”

Banks appeared conflicted, tightening his jaw when he refused to meet her eye. “Not so sure I would.”

“We had a deal,” she hissed angrily, throwing a glance to the medic when he didn’t warn her he was about to clean the wound. But her anger was directed at Banks, betrayal in her eyes at his honest truth. The medic shuttered, muttering an apology that went ignored. The Basterds looked in between her and Banks, wondering what the hell kind of a deal she was referring to.

“Yes, we did,” Banks walked around the table so he was directly in front of her. “But I recall that deal going out the door if something like this—,” he pointed a finger at her state, “occurred or it interfered with my men. Which is what this mission details. So now I have two valid reasons to put an end to this revenge fantasy you have.”

She grows quiet for a moment, but the rage is evident in her eyes. “Thought you were a man of his word, General.”

“Let’s not go there.”

Her head tilts in challenge, pushing the medic away with her non-injured hand when he went to dab her lip. “You will not get in my way. I’ve helped you Americans for three years now—three years! I have gathered information, using my name and title as a means to do your dirty work. If you think I am going to just stand down when I am so close to finishing it once and for all—.”

Banks startles the room when he slaps his hand on the table, “I will not be the one to tell the King of Spain his daughter was killed because she was stubborn enough to go on a suicide mission!”

It became so quiet even the medic had to pause his work at the jaw dropping revelation. King of Spain? But that meant….

“Wha-wait a damn minute,” Aldo was the first one to break the silence, eyes flicking between the two. Behind him the Basterds were conveying the same level of shock. “Did I hear that right?”

“King of Spain’s daughter,” Omar whispers, but it is heard by everyone. “But that means…” all eyes drift to the woman clenching her jaw, refusing to meet one's eye.

Banks sighs, wiping the sweat that had gathered at his hairline, “Gentlemen, may I introduce you to her royal highness—.”

“What did I tell you about titles, Banks?”

“—Princess Josefa María Carmen Concepción Barbón of Spain. Eldest child and only daughter to the King and fourth in line to the throne.”

It was almost comical by the reactions of the seasoned war soldiers. Shooting krauts left and right was easy, but this was not what they expected when they signed up for war. Hell what were they supposed to do when in the presence of royalty? Let alone someone who was in line of succession to the throne? Do they kneel? Do they bow?

“What the fuck,” Hirschberg breathed out which earned him a hard nudge from Smitty and look of disproval from Wicki.

“Yer the princess of Spain?” Aldo asked more to himself, still trying to process the news. “Like the country Spain?”

Josefa makes a sound, snapping the medic out of his daze which has him going back to work. It was obvious the poor guy was buzzing with nerves. He was treating a princess and couldn’t believe he had raised his voice at her when chasing Josefa to the room.

She waits until the medic removes the blood on her lip to answer, tone full of resentment. “Technically I’m not anymore. I relinquished my title when I went against my family and government to marry my husband.” Her eyes go to Banks, narrowing slightly, “So you don’t have to worry about informing my father of my fate if I perish, General. I doubt they even believe I’m still alive after finding out the Germans invaded France.”

“Even if that’s the case, as a father I would want to know if my daughter was dead even if there was bad blood between us. I would feel morally obligated to inform the King.”

The Basterds still couldn’t wrap it around their head. Donny, feeling confident and mostly curious, takes a step forward, “Hope you don’t mind me asking, uh—,” he scratches his neck, “What do we call you? Princess? Your highness—?”

“Josefa, is just fine,” she raises a polite hand, wincing when she realizes it’s the one with a knife through it. The pain was excruciating, but the high emotions she was feeling kept her distracted. “Please, I would appreciate it if we disregarded the formalities. I’m not a Princess anymore, I’m a spy and a damn good one at that if I must say.”

A few guys smile and Aldo exchanges a glance with Banks, who nods at Josefa’s claim. The Lieutenant mutters, “well I’ll be damn. The princess of Spain is a goddamn spy for ‘Murica.”

“What was it you wanted to ask, sergeant?”

“Oh! Uh forgive me if this is too personal, but why is it you are working for the allies? Or is that classified information.”

“It is classified,” Banks interrupts.

“Not anymore it isn’t,” Josefa fires back, lifting her elbow onto the armrest so her injured hand was displayed. There was a scared look from the medic as he eyed the knife producing from the skin.

“Uh—.”

“Backing down now, soldier?” Her brow raises, gesturing to her hand. Again, Smithson and Hirschberg had to look away. Which was ironic since they could stomach scalping Nazi’s no problem. But a knife through the hand got them turning away like school girls.

“I’m just not sure how to go about it, ma’am—uh princess, I’m sorry.”

Josefa closes her eyes, trying not to snap at the poor medic who she was well aware was feeling all kinds of stress. But her hand was on fire and at risk for infection if it was removed at that second.

“For God’s sake,” in a flash her free hand came up, gripping the handle of the knife and yanking it all the way until it was removed from her flesh. Josefa grunted, blood spattering onto her lap and onto the medic’s uniform. Hugo lets out a whistle, Donny muttering a ‘damn,’ while both Wicki and Aldo look on impressed.

And the medic? The *thump* that echoed in the room as his body dropped to the floor signaled he was out cold.

Banks tsked, “kid was new. Just got in last night.”

“Wonderful,” Josefa hissed, gripping the wrist of her bloody hand to keep it up.

“Let me,” Wicki approached the Princess, sporting a cigarette in his mouth. Of the Basterds, he was the most knowledgeable when it came to first aid and could handle injuries. He bent down to grab the gauze and motioned to the bottle of whiskey on the corner of Banks’ desk. “Do you mind, general?” The man just waved in response and Wicki grabbed the bottle. When he turned back to Josefa, he offered it to her, “You may wanna take a quick swing. This is gonna hurt.”

Taking the bottle, she tilted to him in a cheer before downing a shot of the burning alcohol. Again, the Basterds were impressed when she didn’t so much as flinch. Handing it back to Wicki, Josefa adjusted herself in the chair and allowed him to douse her hand in the liquid. A grunt escaped her when he did that, squeezing her eyes shut. It felt like her hand was on fire but it soon soothed as he gently did his best to clean it.

“When is this mission, Banks?” Josefa broke the silence, aiming to distract herself from the pain.

Banks gave her a look that read, ‘Are you serious?’ “None of your concern.”

The rage ignited once more, “Banks I swear to God—.”

“I’m not having this conversation. Stop trying to entertain it, or I’ll have you escorted off base and on the first train to Barcelona.” That shut her up, though it did not stop the glare burning a whole through his head.

Josefa wanted to argue that he technically had no authority over her. Easily could she sneak off in the night to Paris and wait for whoever he sends out to Nadine. From the information she had gathered on her recon, the informant told her that Goebbels was hosting a premier in Paris and it would be sometime in the month. And as she was coming down the hall she overheard bits of the conversation about the rendezvous.

And by the looks of it, the Basterds were in on it.

It got her thinking, so Josefa surprised Banks and kept her mouth shut. Little did he know, she was conspiring.

“Fine.” The simple word had Banks do a double take, as if he couldn’t believe she was relenting. With a satisfied huff, he gathered the file and handed it to Aldo. On his way out however he leaned close to the Lieutenant and warned (ordered) Raine to not let any details they discussed leave that room. Banks also made it clear Josefa was to not be told either.

With one final look of warning to the Princess, Banks took his leave. Wicki was just finishing up wrapping Josefa’s hand when she took the bottle and brought it to her lips. “Thank you, Corporal,” she told him, putting the bottle—a little harshly—-down on the table in front of her.

“It’s my honor,” he softly replied, though it was a bit muffled from the cigarette in his mouth. She gestured to it, “You have another you can spare for a lady?” Chuckling, Wicki cut the gauze and secured it before reaching into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes and lighter. Josefa took one, brought it to her lips for him to light and thanked him when he pulled his hand away. They held each other’s eye, the Princess raising a brow in challenge which had Wicki smirk.

He returned back to the wall, leaning against it next to Hugo—who the small interaction did not go unnoticed by. The blonde nudged him, amusement etched in his face, but Wicki pushed him back with a shake of the head. Josefa chuckled under her breath, letting her eyes drift over to Donny as she remembered what he had asked earlier.

“To answer your question, Sergeant,” her voice went low, but it captured all the men's attention. “My apologies for getting side tracked, but the reason I’m working for the allies is I’m after someone—someone very close to Goebbels who’s the reason my family is dead.” She took a puff, letting the smoke draw out before continuing, ignoring all their curious eyes that held sympathy. “As I said before, I had relinquished my title when I fell in love and married my husband. He was everything my family disapproved of: French, Jewish, and a commoner. They gave me a choice and I chose him. I moved to Paris, we had a couple kids and lived what was supposed to be a happy life. But then the Germans invaded….” She trailed off, face tightening as the memories replayed in her mind.

“Four years ago my husband and I decided we should migrate back to Spain. He thought I should attempt to get back in good graces with my family, but I knew damn well they would not welcome us. So, with the bit of my fortune I had and earnings from selling valuables to keep us afloat, I traveled to Spain alone to find us a place to settle. We thought it would be the safest option while they gathered all the necessary things to leave. My identity was concealed ages ago with fake papers, but I always kept my real ones hidden. I was not gone long,” her voice wavered slightly, “But when I returned they had already been discovered.”

The men all had similar reactions. Most were frowning, pity and anger for the Princess in their gazes. Even Hugo appeared solemn.

Josefa finished the cigarette and threw it into the ashtray on the table. “I found out who sold them to the Gestapo. My neighbor—who was a good woman and knew who I was—took pity on me.”

“And that’s who’re after,” Aldo stated, putting his hands on his hips. There was no doubt he felt for the woman. If he were in her shows he’d be on the hunt for the bastard who sent his family to a death camp. At Josefa’s nod he asked, “You said they're close to Goebbels. Mind tellin’ us who it is?”

Josefa’s eyebrow raised in challenge, “On one condition, Lieutenant.”

Yeah he saw that coming. There was no way she would just lay it all out and not expect anything in return. She was on a mission. One he respected. “Hit me.”

“If I tell you who it is, then I come with you boys to Nadine.” He didn’t know how Josefa knew about the rendezvous in Nadine, but he wasn’t going to question her when it’s been established she’s a spy. That could have been what she was doing before showing up like she went three rounds in a boxing ring. Which reminded him, he really wanted to know what happened to cause her those injuries. But that could wait for the time being.

What Aldo should have said was, “Banks ain’t gonna like that and I don’t need another chewing after the one I just had.” This was a fucking Princess for crying out loud. If anything happened to her, regardless of her estrangement from her father, the King would surely have his head.

But instead the Lieutenant found himself walking up to Josefa so he was standing right in front of her. With a small smirk on his face, Aldo paid a glance to his men and saw they matched his expression. “Ya know how to shoot a gun?”

Josefa leaned back into her chair, lip curling up, “I prefer a knife but I shoot well.” When he briefly glanced to her hand, Josefa rolled her eyes, “that wasn’t my knife and I although it was in my hand, I used it against the fucker with a simple,” she lifted her palm so it faced him before turning it fast before he could blink. The movement had Aldo realize she slit the Krauts throat with the way the blade had impaled her.

Damn that was impressive. It was also something to hear a member of a royal family curse so openly.

She would fit in just fine with the Basterds.

“Just so you know,” she brought him out of his thoughts, “besides my native Spanish and obviously English, I’m also fluent in German and French, not to mention a bit of Italian. One of the many great things of growing up a Princess was having to learn many languages for the times diplomats would visit.” She pauses to nod her head to the two men against the wall, “I know you already have two German-speakers amongst your ranks but there’s no harm in having a third. And may I ask if any of you know French?”

“We don’t,” Also sniffed, a little embarrassed since they had been in France for nearly two years and not one of them knew a lick of the language.

“Well, thank God I’m here.”

“Now, now hold on,” he raised a hand with a chuckle, “I didn’t say yes just yet, Princess.” He laughed again at her scowl, but composed himself and became serious. “This is more than likely a suicide mission ya know?”

“I’m well aware, Lieutenant,” she sighs, exhaustion taking over. The woman had had a long week and was dying to sleep. She would need her energy to heal and for the mission, but at the moment she needed to secure her place on it. “I’ve accepted that I may not survive this war. But if I die, It better be because I achieved my goal.”

“You’re really serious about this?” Donny questioned from the side.

Josefa nodded, determination in her eyes. “She and I have unfinished business.”

“So it’s a she,” Aldo hummed, a little surprised by the revelation.

“Yes,” Josefa hissed, pushing off the chair so she was now barely chest to chest with the officer. “And I will finish what I set my mind to all those years ago. I let my family down once, I will not do it again. Even if you try to stop me, I already know where your little rendezvous is going to be. I’ll just scout every inch of that village until you arrive and sneak my way into wherever it is held. It would be wise of you to let me find out what I know, help in any way I can since I could be of great use, and then we go our ways to complete our goals. So, Lieutenant,” her uninjured hand came up, “do we have a deal?”

Stretching his neck a bit and clicking his tongue, Aldo simply said, “fuck it.” Their hands came together in a firm shake. “Welcome to the Basterds.”

“It’s a pleasure,” she smirks, releasing his hand and dropping it back to her side.

“You gonna tell us that name now?”

Josefa straightened a bit, a flash of anger spreading across her face. “Francesca Mondino.”

“Where have I heard that name?” Donny said aloud, brows furrowing in thought. A few others exchanged glances, wondering the same. Josefa answered for them, “She’s Goebbels interpreter and mistress.”

“And she sold yer family to the Gestapo?” Aldo tilted his head. It was hard wrapping his mind around it. “Goebbels' mistress?”

“Before she was stuffing her mouth with his cock and translating French and German, Francesca lived two doors down from me in Paris. We never liked each other, hardly ever spoke but the few times we interacted were anything but friendly. I won’t get into details, but she knew I was gone when she called the Gestapo. The whore made sure to leave town before I returned.” Few of the guys had to bite back laughter for they too were just as shocked to hear a lady like Josefa use terms like whore and cock.

“So why spy for us?”

“It was my way to track her. Gather information and figure out where the hell she went. The first two years I was at a loss, then I met Banks and offered him a deal. Of course he didn’t believe who I was until I showed him the papers and news articles from Spain that had my picture on it. Once he realized I was indeed the ‘lost Princess’ he agreed to keep my identity secret and listened to what I had to say. The deal was I would spy while he worked on finding information about Francesca so long as it did not interfere with his men and I remained unharmed.”

So that’s why Banks refused to let her continue her plot any further. Not only did she show up to base beat up with a knife through her hand, but this mission that would ultimately give her Francesca tangled up with them. He understood Banks' decision, but also Aldo felt for Josefa and believed she deserved her revenge.

“This Francesca,” Aldo leaned back so he was pretty much seated on the edge of the table. “You know for sure she gonna be with Goebbels at that premier?”

“Of course,” Josefa scoffed like it was the most obvious answer. “She’s always by his side. When he’s not in need of translating her mouth does other things for him to pass time.”

Aldo let out a snort, “What’s yer plan to get to her?”

“I’m working on that,” she crossed her arms. “It won’t be easy, but I have some ideas. I need to find out more about the cinema first so I know its layout.”

“Hmm,” Aldo nodded, not wanting to question anymore with the risk of Banks walking in at any second. They needed to get going so Josefa could follow them without getting caught. Pushing off the table, Aldo gestures for his men to follow him, “We head back into enemy territory tonight. I’ll leave you to get whatever the hell you need and meet us at the drop off point. Think you can handle that on your own.”

Josefa waves her injured hand up and motions to her bruised complexion, “I think I can handle a lot on my own, thank you very much, Lieutenant.”

“That’s for damn sure,” he laughs, removing his tin of snuff from his pocket. He snorts in each nostril before putting it back and nodding to Josefa. “Well see you soon then, Princess.”

As the Basterds file out, they all bid a nod and even some smirks to Josefa who returns them all the same. Donny gives a mock salute which has her roll her eyes but it ignites a laugh. Even a wink is thrown at Wicki who bites his lip to stop from chuckling.

If there was one thing for sure the Nazi’s were not ready for when when they signed up for war, it was they would meet their end with a Princess among Basterds.

#inglorious basterds imagine #inglorious basterds #Aldo raine #Lieutenant aldo raine #Wilhelm wicki #aldo raine imagine #Wilhelm wicki imagine #Donny donowitz #Donny donowitz imagine #smithson ultivitch #hugo stiglitz #Hugo Stiglitz imagine #IB #quentin tarantino characters

[bluebellhairpin]

Arthur Morgan X Reader

A/N: It’s only taken me a year to write something for my most favorite cowboy ever so hopefully it turns out good. - Nemo

Summary: Tension in the Van de Linde camp had been a long time coming. When that tension turns to a division at Beaver Hollow, you make your choice to stand with Arthur. For better - or worse. 

Warnings: Gore, Guns, and Blood. Character death. Language. Angst with no happy ending. Spoilers for the game, if you haven’t played yet. 

Listening to: ‘The Chain’ by Fleetwood Mac - “I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain.” 

Masterlist || Ko-fi || Event Masterlist

You’d known Arthur Morgan for a very long time. 

The both of you were very young when you’d been picked up by Hosea and Dutch, evidently joining the small, growing Van der Linde gang. 

Life of an outlaw wasn’t easy, and the times you wanted to give it up and go hide yourself away in some cabin were more than you could count on your fingers. But you stayed. These people were your family, your friends. You wouldn’t give up on them, no matter how difficult some of them made it to stay. 

But the person that kept you with the Van der Linde gang the most, was Arthur. It was always Arthur. Sure, others nestled into the care of your heart - Ms Grimshaw, Marybeth, Lenny, Abigail and little Jack - but he took up residence in that space long ago. 

Lately, though, that single tie keeping you with the gang was straining. Not because of Arthur himself, not really, but because tensions were rising in camp. People started disagreeing with the leadership - though never mentioned aloud - and everyone was so tired. 

Dutch said he had a plan, but even you were starting to wonder if he ever had one to begin with. No matter where you went, trouble followed. Laying low barely kept you safe for a few weeks - let alone long enough to gather enough money for Dutch to believe it was enough. 

Would it ever be enough?

With everyone pitching in - thefts; robberies on banks, coaches, trains, homesteads; hunting; errands; actual honest work - money should’ve been flowing into camp. But it wasn’t. You were never safe enough, and there was never enough time. Time was one thing Dutch kept seeking more of. 

Time, money and faith. 

But your faith was wearing paper-thin. 

Blackwater felt like the last straw, but it turned out to be the first part of the last straw. You didn’t know what you were waiting for, you were practically itching to leave it all behind, to actually start anew - without everyone else - but something always stopped you from following through. 

Loyalty, perhaps.

It surely was not Dutch’s speeches. 

But then more people died, and the wedge in the camp’s division pushed in further. It became clear some people wanted to leave - yourself included - while others kept belief in Dutch. For you, the turning point was the Saint Denis bank robbery. 

It went awfully wrong, and led to not just Lenny dying, but Hosea too. Once news returned to camp about the historical failure, Sadie sprung into action with Charles and moved everyone away from Shady Belle, but you decided to simply move away. You’d spoken to Charles before you left, leaving word with him about what to tell Arthur when - or if - he returned. What to do if he came back. 

Eventually they did come back, and Charles sent word to you about the return of the lost men. Guama they’d been, and returned acting different. Strange. The concept and idea of someone betraying the gang was on Dutch’s mind, and a finger was pointed at you when he returned and found you missing. Arthur, as kind-hearted as he denied being, was one who defended you, and after the Pinkerton attack on their camp you were no longer under question. 

You didn’t even know where their camp would’ve been to send the agents to. 

Word travelled to you continuously, bless Charles, and so you found out about the gang’s second move to Beaver Hollow. When word stopped, that’s when you got worried. Was Charles okay? Was the gang okay? 

So you packed a bag and left. To go back. You were met with your old friends, old family, hoping to find good news, but instead found them pointing guns at each other. 

“What the hell are you fools doing?” you yelled, walking cautiously towards the group. “I know you all have your differences but we’ve never gone about shooting each other for it.” 

“And you’d know? You left!” 

And so guns were pointed at you. As quickly as they all turned, they all scattered. In your confusion, you simply followed your gut. So you followed Arthur. 

“I’ve killed for you, Arthur. I’ve killed protecting you.'' You said, “If you think I’m going to stop doing that because you want to be a hero and send both of us away then you’re wrong. I’d do anything for you, and that includes staying here. Right now, you need me more than John does.” 

“Then you're sick.” he said, “No, insane, that’s what you are.”

“Yeah I’m insane. You’ve taken all the sickness for yourself. Look at you Arthur, barely standing on your own - say how fast do you think you’d react if Micah pulled a fast one on you, huh?” 

You could tell Arthur was trying to block out your arguing, wanting you to leave with John rather than stay, barely paying you any attention until you mentioned his draw skill. 

“Are you doubting me?” he asked, turning from the rocks to you. 

“Yes.” you said, bowing your head in earnest, “And that doubt will continue until this is over, or you drop dead. I’d rather it be the former than the latter, which is why I’m staying with you.” 

“No, you ain’t.”

“You can’t stop me!” 

“You’re gonna get both of us killed.”

“The only way I'm going down is if they get me in my sleep, and I don’t intend on sleeping for a long while yet.” You turned away to reload your revolver. “So quit acting heroic, be a sad bastard for once, and stop arguing with me about this.”  

“I’ve always been a sad bastard.” You smiled at him.

“No, you ain’t.” 

You’d never seen so many Pinkertons in one place before. You’d never killed so many before either. The whole stand-off/fight was going rather well in your opinion, all things considered. 

All up until you got shot. 

Once on your front.

Once in the back. 

You stumbled back, tripping over your own feet. The first thing you saw when you turned to fall was Micah lunging at Arthur. Then gravity kicked in, pushing you over the cliff face and down onto the ledge below. 

Half the reason Arthur was holding so well in this gunfight was because of you, in a fistfight in this sick state he’d die. You knew that much. Even with the burning in your chest, ribs - heart - and the warmth seeping onto your shirt, you knew that Arthur would be a dead man without your help. 

You’d started a long walk - but no that was too painful - a long crawl back to where Arthur was, only for both him and Micah to tumble down to the ledge, not five feet away from where you first landed. Leaning up against the rocks, you fumbled at your side for your gun, only to realize you’d dropped it back before you fell. 

You had no way to help unless you got in and made a nuisance of yourself. 

Ironic. 

Micah always said you were more trouble that you were worth. 

Watching them tussle, you reached down, wincing at the stretch of your wounds, and pulled a knife from your boot. If you aimed right, you could throw it at Micah and give Arthur the chance he needed. 

You could feel the energy drain from your body with every drop of blood that stopped running through your veins. If you didn’t act soon you’d be too weak to get in a good enough throw. So you pushed off the wall, standing straight, took in a deep breath, and threw the blade right into the side of Micah’s right thigh. 

It didn’t stick, but went through with a clean cut. A viable enough distraction for Arthur to break away and sock his opposition right in the jaw. 

Unable to see past the blurring of your own eyes, you sunk to the floor, legs turning as weak as twigs under your own weight. You clutched your front, legs kicking out in front of you, and your head nodded down so you could watch yourself bleed out between your fingers. 

You could barely tell what was going on anymore, with such a heavy head and your ears starting to feel like they’d been stuffed with cotton, and everything was feeling too hot. You only shifted after you saw someone approach you, giving you a wide berth to move towards the two men. 

“Enough.” He said. It was Dutch. “That’s enough.” 

You’d have spat on him if you could. It had been enough a long time ago. Nothing he could say could reverse what had been done. Stopping this feud now was practically pointless. It wouldn’t give him his money, or bring anyone back from the dead. 

You hoped, as he walked away without a glance at you, that he’d never forget this day. That if you died here and now, that you’d get the chance to haunt him. Even if only for a short while, before you went to burn in hell. 

A hand landed on your leg.

“Arthur,” you started softly.

“Don’t talk,” he rasped, coughing as he pulled himself to lay next to you. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Says you.” 

“I knew you was a fool, staying.” He said, finally settled. “Didn’t think you was so big of a fool to get yourself shot. Twice.” 

“I knew I was.” Both your voices were getting weaker. Quieter. You were both on the precipice of death and you both knew it. 

“How?”

“I knew if it wasn’t Father Time, that got me, I’d end up dying for you, Arthur.” you turned, taking in his beaten and sickly face. “I may not have known it, but I guess I’d vowed a long time ago, to stick to you, ‘till death do we part.” 

“You deserved better than this.” You let go of your wounded stomach, taking his hand in yours and holding onto it with all the might you had left. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize sooner. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I’m not.” you said. “There's few things I’d change, about how I lived my life, but sticking to you, Arthur, ain’t one of them.” You heard his breathing go shallow, even though his hold on your hand tightened. 

A moment's silence passed, and he shifted his head to look past you instead of at you. Now too weak to speak, his eyes told you to look instead. 

As you turned, your own eyes miraculously clearing one last time to let you see the rising sun, you felt his grip on your hand go slack. Cold fingers growing colder. 

You were tired. 

You’d known Arthur Morgan for a very long time, and the times you wanted to give up the life of an outlaw to go hide yourself away in some cabin were more than you could count on your fingers. 

But you stayed, because you didn’t really want that life. 

Not unless you had Arthur with you.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan drabble #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan headcanon

[dragonmuse]

In Just like a one-winged dove, does Izzy ever run into Eddy again (going back for Delly's wedding, some family funeral, Stede and Eddy ending up on vacation where Izzy lives)?

(Refersher: just like the one-winged dove is the universe where Izzy leaves Eddy after they sell him out to rival, builds a life for himself by the ocean and eventually meets Lucius, who winds up staying out west with him instead of joining the Revenge staff.

So happy to revisit this one! I did find one ask that I answered about what happens with Pete and Eddy, thought I didn't ficlet it, This is a close up on Eddy specifically and a little of how she fared)

“Tell Izzy I need him in my office,” Eddy strode in to work, running behind and already halfway to working out this knot of a job. 

“Uh, he’s not here, boss,” Fang said nervously. 

“He’s really taking his time coming back,” she frowned. “What’s his fucking deal?” 

“Don’t know,” Fang trotted after them. “He said they were dangerous. What if they killed him?” 

“He’s hard to hurt, let alone kill,” they said unconcerned. “He’s more useful to them alive anyway or they wouldn’t have taken the trade.” 

With an annoyed grunt, she threw open her office door. She could run this without him, but it would be a pain in the ass. Maybe she should’ve come up with a better plan than trading Izzy for the information. It had just been expedient and he’d been annoying her that day.

As soon as Eddy crossed the threshold, they knew something was wrong. They froze, and scanned the room. 

On the desk there was a knife stuck directly upward into a stack of paper. Someone had been in here. Someone had left them a threat. Once they were sure there was nothing else lurking, she reached over and pulled the knife out with an annoyed hiss. 

The letter was in Izzy’s unmistakable spiky handwriting. 

Consider this my resignation. The next time I see you, it goes into your heart. -I 

She read it with a deep frown. What was he playing at? The papers below were still readable despite their knife wounds. It was a thick stack. A list of all of Eddy’s bank accounts with their passwords, a client list each with Izzy’s meticulous notes about where the relationship stood, a calendar of every upcoming job, and then an itemized list of all the things he’d removed from his own office that he’d paid for with his own funds. 

“That was nice of him,” Fang said, sifting through the papers as Eddy dropped them one by one back onto the desk. 

“That’s not a courtesy,” they growled. “It’s a warning sh-”

There was a horrible and familiar cracking sound. Pain lanced across her face, the heat of it registering first. 

Dimly, Eddy was aware of Fang and the others going into battle mode, shouting and hitting the floor.  Eddy didn’t bother with that. They crossed to the window, light pouring in through the bullet hole. Carefully, they looked through it. 

Izzy stood at the window across the street, sniper’s weapon already torn down and thrown across his back. But he had been waiting. He seemed to see them, despite the tint. Grimly, he flipped Eddy off and then took off running.  

“Oh, it’s on you little motherfucker,” Eddy laughed, blood streaming down her face. He was an excellent shot, though he would normally not dick around like that. The wound on her cheek was just enough to let her know that he could’ve killed her on the spot and didn’t.  

This was going to be fun. 

And for a few months, Eddy’s life was full of sound and color. They still ran regular jobs, but they tangled with all sorts of hell. Izzy had apparently joined up with the Dutchmen and was using their usual disorganization to manipulate them into being the army behind his one-man vendetta. Not that he was ever stupid enough to show his face, just the reverberations of his reach impacting every step Eddy took. 

It was a giddy experience to match wits against someone that knew them so well. Once and a while Izzy even surprised them. Not enough to get the upper hand, but there were close calls. 

And then...then it just stopped. Izzy stopped. Eddy waited for his next move as they plotted through other jobs. Waited and waited, but it never came. Rumors died too. No one knew what had become of him, including the Dutchmen, who Eddy roughly interrogated then absorbed into her own company. 

The company that was rapidly starting to bore her. Without Izzy, Eddy had no one to bounce plans off of, no one to harass them on annoyingly dull days. No one to spar with or who still treated her like she was fallible. Every person she tried to put into his position was too afraid to correct them or offer critique. 

She was bored. Very fucking bored. And one day she walked out the building and didn’t walk back in. There was enough money. Enough blood on her hands. It was depressingly easy to sell the whole thing to Jackie, take that extra cash infusion and hit the road. 

Eddy traveled for years. Not quite a tourist, but not settling anywhere either. They wandered, discovering themselves more than the places that they landed. Like the magpie Izzy had often accused her of being, she picked up trinkets, bits of languages and scattered bits of her essential self. 

At 47, having globe-trotted for years, they came back to the city to sell the apartment with a vague idea of maybe finally settling in one of the many warm places they’d taken a liking too. 

Instead, they find the Revenge. Find Stede. A little late, but for them always right on time. 

It’s more years later, four or five when they head out west for a drag competition plus vacation.  Eddy hadn’t stopped long in their travels, so it was nice to explore someplace that was basically new with Stede. They both liked the beach, taking off their shoes and walking along the water. 

That evening, Eddy was still damp from a spontaneous swim. The end of her braid releasing slow drops of water down her spine as they walked, hand-in-hand. 

“What do you think about clams for dinner, dear girl?” Stede asked. 

“Probably be fresh,” she agreed. “Saw that place on the drive that looked good.” 

Far down the beach there was another pair walking towards them. The sun was at their backs, silhouetting them a little. A smaller, stockier man with hair that brushed his shoulders, a taller one with sunglasses perched in a nest of fluffy hair. Nothing particularly threatening, but Eddy’s neck prickled. 

“Are we stopping?” Stede asked bemused. 

“Sorry, love. It’s just-” she waited a few seconds, wanting to be proven wrong. “You need to stay here.” 

“Why?” 

“Do you see that man? The shorter one?” 

“Yes?” 

“I know him,” she dropped Stede’s hand, then turned and kissed him. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he said automatically. “You’re scaring me.” 

“Nothing to be scared of,” she put on a smile. “It’s fine. Just a quick chat. Stay here though. Please.” 

She walked down the final hundred feet alone. Izzy had left behind his companion too. The taller man crossed his arms over his chest, looking mildly concerned, but not nearly as scared as Stede had. 

They stopped within ten feet of each other. Izzy looked...good, actually. He’d hacked the arms off a t-shirt, showing off muscles that he’d maintained over the elapsed years. His hair had gone a steely gray, but fell softly around his face. His feet were as bare as Eddy’s, all his tattoos faded, except for one that he must’ve had done after their split. It took up most of his left calf, a stained glass affair, brightly colored, a bird in flight over the sea. 

“Hi, Iz.” 

“Hi, Ed.” 

“Eddy,” she corrected. “Lots changed since we saw each other last.” 

“Eddy,” he repeated with a nod as he took her in. What was he seeing? Friend? Enemy? Stranger? “Yeah, guess that makes some sense.” 

“You said next time we saw each other...” 

“I’m not armed,” he held out his hands. Empty. Not that that meant much. Izzy wasn’t bad at hiding a blade. Or he hadn’t been. “Just came out for a walk before dinner.”  

“Israel Hands without a weapon?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“I haven’t gone by Hands in a while,” he shrugged. “I gave it all up. If you want to take me out, you’re welcome to try. Just ask that maybe we do it somewhere else. He shouldn’t have to see it.” 

Eddy frowned, looking at the tall man again.  Didn’t look like much, thirty-ish maybe, nonthreatening.  

“Who is he?” 

“My boyfriend,” Izzy said simply. Like that was easy for him to say. 

“How long?” 

“Seven years,” Izzy didn’t look back, but Eddy could see him wanting too. “What about the blond?” 

“My husband,” she said and yeah, she was always going to say that with pride, no matter the situation. “Four years. I don’t want to kill you.” 

“Fine,” Izzy tilted his head. “I stopped wanting to kill you a long time ago.” 

“Really?” 

“Eddy,” he said the name carefully, “I haven’t even thought about you in years.” 

Why did that hurt? It shouldn’t, but it landed like a stab wound in her gut. 

“You made sure it was hard for me to forget you,” she touched the scar on her cheek. 

He snorted and tapped the unfinished star under his eye, “Just wanted to make us even.” 

“...introduce me to your man.” 

He considered that, and finally he did turn and walked back to his boyfriend. They had a short conversation and then the taller man shrugged. Eddy gestured for Stede, seemed only fair.  

The four of them arrived at the same spot. 

“Lucius, this is Eddy. Eddy, this is Lucius. He’s an artist,” a curl of warm pride and Eddy had never heard that in Izzy’s voice before.  

“Nice to meet you,” Eddy held out a hand and Lucius took it with thinly-veiled disgust. Interesting. “This is Stede, Stede this is Izzy.” 

“Izzy...the man that tried to kill you?” Stede asked, voice squeaking. 

“Not recently,” Izzy said quietly.  

“Eh,” Eddy shrugged. “He didn’t try that hard.” 

Izzy didn’t argue that. Lucius took in Stede, “You don’t look like a mobster girlfriend.” 

“What?” Stede was startled into laughing. “Neither do you, I suppose.” 

“He’s a mechanic,” Lucius said mildly.  

“Eddy’s a drag queen,” Stede said staunchly. 

“Really?” Izzy blinked.  

“Really. Bikes?” 

“It’s what I knew. Do classic cars sometimes too.” 

“Huh.” 

“Come back to the house,” Lucius turned on his heels. “I’m hungry and this is clearly a lot of damage to try to talk around on empty stomachs.” 

“Luc,” Izzy protested weakly. 

“You promised me the good salmon thing and if you think I haven’t had that on my mind all afternoon...” 

“Yeah, fine. There’s enough for four.” 

Eddy has no idea what to make of that, but she follows them up the beach anyway, Stede reluctantly beside them. 

It’s not actually a bad night, eating fish next to the ocean on the back patio of Izzy and Lucius’ jewel-box house. Stede and Lucius get along after initial prickliness, talking about books and art. 

For their part, Eddy and Izzy let them fill the silence. It’s only when Stede and Lucius tactfully retreat into the kitchen (close enough to keep an eye, not so close to eavesdrop) that Eddy says, 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Are you?” Izzy considered that. “For what part?” 

Eddy blinked, “Uh...for trading you over? I assumed that’s what set you off.” 

“It was,” he conceded. “But...I think it was good. That you did.” 

“It wasn’t worth it.” 

“Not for the information,” he agreed. “But I was never going to get out any other way. I needed to get out.” 

“Yeah,” she rested her elbows on her knees. The ocean roared beside them.  “I know what you mean. The house is something, he’s an artist?”

“He is, but the house I did,” Izzy got to his feet. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.” 

So there in the peace by the sea and years too late, Eddy stepped foot into a place Izzy lived for the first time. It would also be the last. They would part there, Eddy and Stede going back east. If Eddy thought of Izzy from time to time after that, it was with a distant fondness. A memory of what had been.

#leda house and the kraken verse #just like a one winged dove

[aik-membrane]

OOC: Heart-Aik: Aik Membrane's Prequel

Chapter Twenty-Six /tw, blood

Ft mentions of @ambassador-d1b

<March 2nd, 2010 continued>

It was completely dark outside. Aik hadn't thought to get cleaned up, but he had the envelope of evidence for Kayla. He knew the best way to get to her house without being spotted, so he was there within minutes. He bit the envelope in his teeth and climbed up the vines on the side of the house to get to Kayla's room. The room was dark, but he knew Kayla would be awake.

Aik knocked gently on the window. A few seconds later, Kayla opened the window and poked her head out.

"Hey- SHANK!" Kayla nearly screamed at the sight of Aik dripping in blood, but clapped her hands over her mouth before she woke her parents.

Aik took the envelope out of his mouth. "Shank isn't my name…"

Kayla nodded stiffly.

"This… This is for you." Aik offered her the envelope.

Kayla took the envelope tentatively.

"It's evidence. You, your family, the whole cult are free now. I… I killed Percy."

Kayla grew pale.

"You can tell the cops I did it. I'm leaving, so they can't catch me," Aik sighed.

"You… want me to call the cops?"

"In the morning. Please?"

Kayla nodded.

"Sorry to drop this on you…" Aik muttered.

"What… should I call you?"

"Uh. I don't know." Aik still didn't want his real name used.

"How about. Red?" Kayla gestured to Percy's blood soaked through Aik's clothes and hair.

"Ehh, sure. Red is fine. You and your family take care, maybe I'll see you again."

Kayla nodded.

Aik nodded too and started to climb back down.

"Red!" Kayla called softly.

Aik glanced up at her.

"Get a shower," Kayla said, making a disgusted face.

Oh right, the blood. Aik looked at himself. "Yeah, on it." He jumped down from the vines and darted back to Percy's house, avoiding the scene of the killing to get to his room.

In only twenty minutes, he had showered, changed into fresh clothes, and packed. He was a little shaky from tension, but he had shut down most of his brain. He had a plan, a plan he's had for years. It was going to work, he was going to get out.

With his bag of necessities slung over his shoulder, he left the house. Don't run, it would attract attention from dogs and neighbors.

Only Kayla knew it was him. He trusted her to take care of it. But the other cult members? Nope.

It felt like it took way too long to get out of the neighborhood. But Aik forced himself to keep a steady and calm pace, despite racing with adrenaline. Eventually, the cultic neighborhood was gone and Aik was approaching a bank. He had devices planted in the ATM, and it didn't take him long at all to activate them with his own tool, transferring all of Percy's funds stored in the bank into Aik's account. It was rightfully his anyway. And it would just look like Percy withdrew the money when the cops came to inspect. Percy had so much untraceable cash at the house, it would likely be assumed that was the money from Percy's account.

And then to the bus stop. The adrenaline hadn't worn off, he had to get as close to Dib as possible before it did.

When he eventually got to the bus stop, he was annoyed to learn there wasn't a bus going where he wanted to go. Oh well. He knew where he was going, he packed a map after all. He was anxious to move while he had the energy.

So that's exactly what he did. He climbed up the closest building tall enough and started a long trek to the city, jumping between buildings.

Eventually, Aik reached an overpass going over the highway. Cars zoomed under the bridge, only a cable fence protecting pedestrians from falling.

Aik made sure no one was watching and climbed the fence.

The height didn't bother him at all, Aik had pulled a maneuver like this while waiting for his leg to heal. He used a knife from his bag to cut off a line of cable from the fence, his arm knife wasn't sharp enough for that.

Aik wrapped the cable tightly around his robotic arm, just in case he missed the jump, waited, and then leapt from the bridge.

Aik landed perfectly on a passing semi, his arm puncturing a hole in the top to hold him steady as he let the cable go.

Aik rested for a bit on the back of the truck, which took him almost the rest of the way. When it took the wrong exit off the highway, Aik climbed down and jumped into a huge overgrown section of grass.

Aik laid there for a moment to make sure the truck driver hadn't spotted him, then got up and continued walking. As soon as the buildings were tall enough, he climbed up one and began to jump between them. He could feel his energy running out.

He rested once near Membrane Labs, then continued to his destination. An old fight ring building that he wasn't really used anymore. Last he heard, anyway. He easily climbed into the abandoned and very dusty attic.

He made it. He was safe. There was some decent furniture in the attic. It was usable, just old and dirty. Aik heard that this used to be a bed and breakfast before the neighborhood was overrun.

Aik sat on a dusty mattress just as the adrenaline wore off. He was done, he had no energy left. He was safe and he was exhausted. He flopped onto the bed and slept deeply for the rest of the night and into the morning.

#iz dib #iz dib membrane #iz ocs #aik membrane #project eternal #professor membrane #iz fanfiction #heart aik #invader zim dib #dib membrane

[you-heard-what-i-meant]

Of Brothers and Blood - Triple Frontier

A/N - This one came to me in one huge braindump! As usual, it's not bet'd so please excuse any weirdness! - Available on AO3 HERE

Trigger warnings just in case (all very mild, I promise!): mentions of - drug usage, blood, sort of suicidal thoughts?, vague injury detail, grief.

Triple Frontier - Benny Whump, Frankie Whump, bit of Santi Whump. Lots of emotional whumpage, little bit of physical whumpage (Benny).

Set early on in their time together as a team. No romantic pairings!

I have no actual experience of drug use, and don't know anyone who does either, so please excuse if it's a bit unrealistic (if that's possible???)!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Summary: Benny gets frustrated at the dynamics of the team and makes a poor decision. the aftermath leads to an outpouring of honesty and emotional baggage from Santi and Frankie.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The evening had been going well. The four of them were holed up in their accommodation for the night, and were trying to plan for the next day. They’d been on a few missions together, but this was their first long assignment that had a real potential for one of them to not come home. Santi had sought out the Miller brothers to join his “off the books” team as soon as they’d both retired from active duty a couple of years ago. He’d heard plenty of good things about them, come across them on active duty twice, and his best friend Frankie knew the older of the brothers, Will, reasonably well from various encounters in the military. 

Ben knew very little of the older men at the time, however, having not paid them much attention the few times their paths had crossed. They were enough years ahead of him in active service that he assumed he’d never see them again once they retired anyway. Then he’d been invited onto their team and the prospect of some real assignments made him sign on faster than he’d joined the military in the first place. Several reasonably minor missions on, however, and Benny was getting impatient. He was starting to feel like they were babysitting him rather than working with him as an equal. 

 A disagreement had started regarding the timing and entry points of the planned hit the next day. Santi and Frankie were on one side, arguing for the slow-and-silent infiltration technique, Ben was on the other arguing that this would give the bastards inside too much chance to escape. Will was silently assessing everything and keeping his thoughts firmly to himself, much to Ben’s irritation. As far as he was concerned he didn’t know enough about the latino men, and Will should have been backing him up as his brother - sibling loyalty demanded it. 

Ben had ended up furious that Frankie backed Santi without question every time, like he didn't even think for himself and just obeyed. It made Ben worse when they started telling him why they were right and he was wrong. You gotta reign in that impulsive thing, Benny, it’s gonna get you killed. He’d thrown some nasty shit at them, accusing Frankie of being spineless, of being Santi’s little lapdog, and it only infuriated him more that they both just stood there silently and watched him rant with matching expressions of irritated impatience. Eventually he turned on his own brother, who only made things worse by trying to calm the situation instead of supporting him. It had well-and-truly fanned the flames. 

Benny had blown up at them, stalked out, found himself in a bar. A few drinks in and he’s talking - ranting - to some random English expat who’s propping up the bar next to him. The man has a solution - a baggie of blow, and Ben hasn’t touched the stuff for a couple of years but he remembers how it feels and suddenly he can’t think about anything else. They disappear to the toilets and find themselves a credit card, a rolled up bank note, and a nice flat, dry surface. 

Next thing he knows he’s back in the main bar. The world is spinning wildly around him, he can taste the colours of the lights flashing across the floor, and the half-naked women around him keep growing extra arms and heads. He feels warmth under his nose and his hand comes away crimson, the droplets drifting upwards, against gravity, and they start to form a river across the ceiling. His head is full of fluid, his lungs working out of time with each other, his legs impaled on spikes from the soles of his feet to his hip bones, unmoving. The only things that don't hurt in any way, he realises, are his arms. They’re noodles - numb and wiggling around bonelessly beside him, extending out onto the dancefloor like octopus tentacles as the other patrons dodge around them.

Suddenly there’s a cage around him - no, there’s arms around him; someone tall, blond haired, embracing him. The face swims into focus. Will. Then there’s another blurry face, at a height taller than him, dark eyes floating in an olive-toned face, chocolate curls messily decorating his head, a patchy moustache and beard making the face look older than it really is. Frankie’s face morphs through several emotions - annoyance, disappointment, sadness, fear. The next thing he knows Ben’s being carried and as the temperature changes from the stifling heat of indoors to the vaguely-cool crispness of outside, blackness sweeps him away. 

The first time he wakes it’s chaos. He panics, struggling against the arms holding him. They quickly relinquish their grip and those same dark eyes come into focus. Firm hands wrap around his face, and Frankie is trying to soothe him, to explain what’s happening, to ask him to please stay with us this time, I know it’s hard, but try and focus on us.

Ben feels an irrational burst of anger, hurls everything he can at the man in a garbled mess - Get the fuck off me - shouldn’t you be in bed with Santi? - Bet you’re not allowed to have fun - you’re jealous I’m young and free and you’re old and hung up -

Surprisingly Frankie doesn’t flinch away. Nor does he return the anger. Instead Ben has just a moment to register the desperate sadness, the hint of something else behind those dark eyes before he falls into a black hole once more.

When he wakes again, his head is pounding and his whole body tingles unpleasantly. He’s been laid on his side, and recognises the ”recovery position” he’s been put in on the soft-yet-firm surface. A bed, his brain supplies. The lingering smell of vomit explains why he’s woken in this position. 

A hand holding a water bottle suddenly appears in front of his face. Ben blinks painfully up at the owner - blond hair glitters in the dappled sunlight entering through the window behind him. 

Will. Ben closes his eyes, humiliation and defiance warring inside him. He drags himself to sitting with his back against the headboard. It takes all the energy he has and his head swirls violently. When he’s finally able to look up again, Will has seated himself at the foot of the bed, still holding out the water bottle. Ben takes it, cracks it open, takes a swig to clear the cotton-wool-and-sand feeling in his mouth. He tries to ignore the rolling sickness in his stomach. 

“Was it worth it?” Will's voice is quiet but steady, his crystal blue eyes locked in an unwavering gaze. Ben finds he has nothing to say. Will pierces his younger brother with a glare. 

“Was it worth risking your life? All our lives?”

Ben snorts at that, irrational anger and humiliation flaring inside him. “Don’t be so fucking dramatic. I had a bit of something to take the edge off -“

Will's explosion is as shocking as it is unusual. The older Miller only lets his anger out in such a way when he’s been pulled so tight that he feels like he’s going to tear in two. It’s rare that anything pushes him this far. It both takes Benny by surprise, and adds fuel to the fire.

“There was blood pouring from your nose! You had a fucking seizure in the car on the way back! You’re fucking lucky that Santi’s instincts were right - that Frankie recognised what was wrong with you-“

Ben couldn’t stop it, he exploded in response.

“Oh fucking Santi and Frankie again! Jesus, Will, you’re fucking obsessed with these assholes!”

Before Will can respond, a different voice enters the fray. It’s quiet, controlled, deep. “We’ll take that as a “thank you” for using our experience to stop you ending up in hospital last night.”

Santi is leaning against the doorframe, slightly inside the room. Just behind him and leaning against the other side of the doorframe is Frankie. They both have their arms folded across their chests. 

Ben can’t help the scathing tone of his voice.

“Right - I should be eternally grateful for your over-reactions. ”

He feels shaky, like he’s been stretched too thin and the elastic has given out. If he lets himself admit it, he’s humiliated, ashamed. He’d heard about these guys before he met them, was desperate to prove himself to them once they asked him to join them, especially being so much younger. It’s all making him even more of an asshole than usual.

Frankie’s voice is somehow piercing, despite how soft it is when he speaks.

“I know it’s frustrating that you don’t know much about us, but it’s for a reason. The things we’ve seen and done, the shit we’ve been through - it’s no good us walking around with it strapped to our chests like a deadweight. So we use it to make sure we keep you safe. But you only ever have to ask, we’ll tell you anything you actually wanted to know.”

Ben huffs out a breath, his attitude beginning to waver in the face of their unshakeable calm and his steadily growing humiliation at his total car-crash of a coping mechanism. Will is watching him, that big-brother stop-being-a-prick look on his face. 

“Why don’t you trust us?”

Santi’s question is both a massive curveball, and hits the nail right on the head. Ben’s mouth flaps open and closed for a moment as he tries to choose which reason to hurl at the man first, then Santi tilts his head back, his mouth opening in a wide, knowing smile.

“Not us. Me. You don’t trust me.”

Ben doesn’t miss the way Frankie straightens up from leaning against the doorway. Will’s head drops to his chest. Ben suddenly feels exposed. It was easier when he could pin it to the pair of them, but he doesn’t have any real beef with Frankie, not really. His mouth is running before he’s actually formulated a reply.

“Can you blame me? You seem like the type to put a bullet in your best friend if it means you get the job done.” But Ben can hear his own voice doesn’t have any real power behind it. He’s vulnerable now, with all three other men firmly against him. He feels like a child being cornered for his lunch money by the bigger boys. 

Santi is slowly shaking his head, his expression genuine and somehow sad. He intercepts Frankie’s attempt to argue on his behalf, a slight gesture of his hand making the taller man close his mouth with huff and a shake of the head.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I can promise you that as much as I’ll push the boundaries to get a job done, I’d give my life for my friends. And I count you among them, regardless of how you feel about me.”

Silence reigns for a long time. Ben occupies himself with slowly working his way through the bottle of water in his hands. His fight-or-flight has kicked in - no, his pride is hurting. It doesn’t feel good for so many reasons.

Eventually Frankie moves into the room to lean against the windowsill, his backside resting against it but his legs out straight in front of him, supporting his weight.

“How’re you feeling? That shit will be out of your system by now but there will be after effects. I don’t know whether you took too much or just a bad batch, but you’re going to be riding it out for a couple more hours yet.”

Ben’s eyebrows draw together suspiciously. He hadn’t heard anything about the man being a doctor or anything. His mouth runs before his brain fully comprehends his thoughts. “How do you know about this shit then? Were you a coke head or something?”

Will growls at him, but Frankie’s gaze is startlingly steady when he immediately answers. 

“Yeah.”

Ben isn’t prepared for the shock of such an answer. Will cocks his head to the side, studying the latino man. 

Frankies mouth twists, his intense gaze darting to Will for just a second, before returning to Ben. “I promised we’d be honest if you asked. You know earlier you said your brother was being dramatic about you nearly dying? He wasn’t being dramatic. That was a close call, man.”

Ben finds himself shaken, he’s back in defence mode - or maybe he never left it - and his interest is piqued. “Yeah? Had some of them yourself?”

Frankie nods slowly. “Yeah, I’ve had a few narrow escapes - out in the field and due to my own stupidity in my downtime. A couple of dances with the reaper, too.”

Benny gave one last attempt to save face, already knowing it would probably backfire on him. “I guess good ol’ Pope’s the one who ‘pulled you up by your bootstraps and set you back on the right path’, right?”

Frankie is so damn casual when he speaks, his words land like a time-delay bomb.

“I guess you could say that. But I bet you’ve never held your dying brother in your arms.”

Will has sat back now, leaning on his hands, his gaze one of serious intrigue. Having enrolled in the armed forces as soon as he legally could, he’d seen enough comrades holding their friend’s lives in their hands - literally. These sorts of stories were sacred to him - a bond between one person who kept a comrades soul in their body and the person they saved was deemed to be something incredible. Unbreakable.

Blissfully, Ben had finally fallen silent. Maybe the shock of such a blunt call-out was exactly what the younger man needed. The older Miller could only hope that his brother gained some humility and understood that all things considered he’d had an easy time in service, and not everyone got off so lightly. 

The two latino men shared a long moment, their gazes locked on each other and seemingly a whole silent conversation passing between them. Pope gave the tiniest raise of an eyebrow, Frankie the most minute tilt of his head, and each took a long, deep breath as their gazes parted. Neither looked at the men on the bed as Frankie speaks.

“Santi’s saved my ass more times than I can count. But he’s saved my life twice.” Frankie shifts slightly, readjusting his half-sitting-half-standing stance against the windowsill. His hands grip the edge of the shelf, fingers wrapping firmly around the curve of it. The sun glows around the edges of his body like an ethereal cape.

“The first time was during a skirmish in Bahrain. Some asshole got a lucky hit in under my tac-vest. Damn near gutted me like a fish. Santi took him out and sat holding my guts in until medivac got there.”

He glances at Santi, who at some point has moved into the room and is now propping up the wall next to the door with arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankle. His gaze is steady, something deep behind it. 

Frankie nods to himself. “The second time was back in the US. I had a lot going on in my mind, I wasn’t coping very well. Actually I wasn’t coping at all. I got started on coke, trying to block out all the shit in my head. I didn’t realise how fast things were getting out of control until -“ his throat suddenly runs dry. He roughly clears it, shaking his head slightly. His hands practically crushing the window ledge. “- until one day it stopped working. I couldn’t make it all go away anymore, even for a little while. So I just went all out, I just wanted it all to stop and I didn’t care how -“ He catches Santi’s gaze, and this time his throat fully fails him. He looks to the ground, struggling to breathe, speaking no longer an option. He glances up at Santi again, still in the same position, but now his impossibly dark eyes are full of something else - a war of pain, sympathy, support, and that soldier mentality. It hits Frankie like he’s been gutted again, and as his gaze remains glued to his closest friends’, he finds he can’t continue. 

Ben and Will find themselves staring opened-mouthed, their gazes dancing between the other two men. Their attention locks onto Santi as he takes a steady breath and takes over the narrative.

“When I found Frankie, he was barely conscious. I called an ambulance, tried to help him hold on. He had a seizure in my arms. The convulsions were violent but it didn’t last long, and when it ended I was sure he was gone. There was blood coming out of his nose, his mouth, and he -“ it was Santi’s turn to lose the power of speech. He shakes his head vigorously, an annoyed frown passes across his face at the betrayal of his voice. He roughly clears his throat. His gaze is still locked on Frankies, two pairs of dark brown orbs unwavering for a long moment. Eventually Frankie drops his gaze to the floor. There’s something like shame in his expression. “When it ended he’d stopped breathing. I did CPR - I don’t know how long for. All I knew was that there was no way he was getting away from me if I could help it.” 

Santi shifts, unfolding his arms and sliding his hands into his pockets. He still doesn’t take his eyes away from Frankie, who’s so tense he seems like he’ll shatter if anyone touches him. 

“Frankie was on life support for three days. The doctors were sure he wasn’t coming back - they told me that I was registered as his next of kin, and that I should start getting his affairs in order. Before, I’d had no doubt whatsoever that he’d survive anything. But this time… it was the first time I’d ever felt like maybe he didn’t want to. I was swinging between telling him to get his ass back to me, and telling him it was okay if he -“ for the first time, Santi’s voice broke with the weight of his emotions. The Millers had never seen it happen before - Santi had a hard exterior, he had to as team leader, but they all realised that he felt everything incredibly deeply. He took everything as a personal failure, and his emotions were powerful. His eyes were a maelstrom, and it seemed to magnetically draw Frankies gaze back up to meet Santi’s. There were tears glittering in the taller man’s eyes, his face a mask of poorly concealed pain and guilt. 

Santi’s voice was quiet when he eventually spoke again.

“I kept telling him it was okay if he wanted to go. If he really couldn’t take any more. I couldn’t bear seeing him the way he was before it happened, watching him suffer and not knowing what the fuck to do to help him. I knew he was struggling, but I …” he trailed off. After a few moments, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, straightening his back. His gaze, still locked with Frankies, had softened. 

“He was in hospital for ten days in total. When he got out I’d already been right through his apartment, made sure it was safe, was clean for him in every way I could. Gradually things became less of a knife edge and more like walking a pathway on a cliff-face. I hope that pathway keeps getting wider.”

They all lapse into silence. If Ben and Will feel like they’ve been flayed raw, they can’t imagine how it feels for the other two men. Frankie’s eyes are red rimmed, although no tears have fallen. There’s something so intense in the gaze between him and Santi that the Millers feel like they can’t look away and yet have to. 

Frankie's voice is raw, practically a whisper when he breaks the silence, Spanish flowing from him like it’s being physically ripped from his soul.

“I’m so sorry, brother. I should never have put you through it, I was selfish -“ he doesn’t get to finish. Santi talks over him in the same tongue.

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t go there. I would give my life for you. I - I didn’t do enough to help you. I knew you were falling, and I didn’t try hard enough to catch you -“

“No, man, you’re the only reason I’m still here, not just ‘cause you saved my life but because at times you’ve been the only thing worth living for.”

Santi finds himself grasping for a response that expresses everything he needs it to. As usual, he finds that he doesn’t need to say or do anything - that unbreakable connection that binds him and Frankie together does it all for him, their souls communicating directly. 

The silence that hangs in the air isn’t tense, but it’s loaded with emotions. Will and Ben may not know what’s just been said, but they certainly understand it. The brothers find their eyes darting between the two older men like a tennis match, Frankie and Santi locked into each other’s orbit with a million unspoken things passing between them. Will vaguely considers that the connection he has to his real-blood-brother isn’t as strong as the bond these two brothers-not-by-blood have, and wonders if it’s anything to do with choice - these men chose to adopt each other, they weren’t born to it. Or maybe, he thinks, it’s fate that brought them together. 

The moment is broken by Ben being typical Ben.

“… Do you two want us to give you the room, or…?”

The twin smirks that erupt onto the Latino men’s faces make Will grin at the floor. 

“Fuck you Benny Boy.” Frankie playfully jousts, his gaze finally breaking away from Santi. 

“Hell no, I don’t want to make this a threesome. I know I wouldn’t get fair attention between you two.”

“You always have to make it weird, man.” Santi gripes, no weight behind it as his smirk broadens into a rare true smile and he shakes his head. 

And just like that, the - somewhat inappropriate - jibing banter breaks the atmosphere of the room, heavy emotions scattering like mist and leaving their deposits on everyone and everything. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Spanish Translation for those who want it (Google Translate, apologies in advance!)- 

Frankie's voice is raw, practically a whisper when he breaks the silence, Spanish flowing from him like it’s being physically ripped from his soul

“Lo siento mucho, hermano. Nunca debí hacerte pasar por esto, fui egoísta -“ he doesn’t get to finish. Santi talks over him.

“No. No hagas eso. No vayas allí. Yo daría mi vida por ti. Yo... no hice lo suficiente para ayudarte. Sabía que te estabas cayendo, y no me esforcé lo suficiente para atraparte -“

“No, hombre, eres la única razón por la que sigo aquí, no solo porque me salvaste la vida, sino porque a veces has sido lo único por lo que valía la pena vivir.”

Santi finds himself grasping for a response that expresses everything he needs it to. As usual, he finds that he doesn’t need to say or do anything - that unbreakable connection that binds him and Frankie together does it all for him, their souls communicating directly.

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