#this is canon he literally only makes it to four when hes counting to ten from his head

[kevinmonth]

i know this is probably common knowledge but i had completely forgotten that the riko roast happens after riko insults neils mother. like up until then neil is trying to hold himself back, admittedly not very well but he's trying. then riko calls his mother a coward and he loses it

#neil: 1... 2... 3... 4... #riko: ur moms a pussy #neil: #neil: you know i get it #this is canon he literally only makes it to four when hes counting to ten from his head #aftg #all for the game #riko roast #neil josten #riko moriyama

[redbullgivesyouwingedkuriboh]

Since y’all liked me getting beaten down by GX characters so much, here’s:

Yu-Gi-Oh ARC-V Characters ranked by how easily I could take them in a fight

same rules apply: fisticuffs only and my personal feelings about the characters do not matter

also since ARC-V is WEIRD AF when it comes to characters this will be characters that are exclusive to ARC-V. so no repeat of Asuka. We already know I bite harder than she does.

without further ado, here we go:

Reira Akaba. No shit. is literally a baby. if I was a baby kicking kind of person I could punt her into the sun. However as I do not kick babies I am more inclined to wrap her in a lil blanket and put her in the corner.

Yuya Sakaki. Bitch. One good step on his toes and he’s going “reaction shot?!” I pull on his stupid fuckin goggles and snap them back onto his face. he’s down. count to ten.

Yuzu Hiragi. Canonically the bracelet girls really suck at holding their own at any given moment. Yuzu is the weakest physically because she has never seen war or hardship to the level of the other three. I could take her in four seconds. pigtail tug time.

Yuri. The second weakest physically of the Yu boys. has been coddled by Leo for years. probably sparred with Sho at the academy to make himself feel better about having 0% body weight from muscles. eat shit you purple motherfucker.

Dennis McField. not only would I beat him, I would enjoy doing it. I’d love to curbstomp that motherfucker off a boat, except he already did that to himself. physically he is a fuckin twig and I am five feet seven inches of pure unadulterated god complex. he’ll wish I turned his ass into a card.

Reiji Akaba. the scarf works to his detriment. I do two laps around him holding the end of that thing and suddenly his face is turning blue and he’s calling for papa. unfortunately for him I have zero mercy.

Rin. again, the bracelet girls are notoriously bad at being strong independent women. we literally don’t see Rin for most of the series because she got herself kidnapped off the cuff. that being said she could probably hold her own against me, but I think she’s too sweet for that.

Z-ARC. We’ve established I bite. even outside of human form, if you look at him, he’s got a fuck ton of exposed veins, both as regular Z-ARC and Yuya Z-ARC. chompy chompy motherfucker you’ll pass out from the blood loss before I can kick your ass properly.

Yugo. Canonically relies on his motorcycle for fuckin everything. lost to Yuri because he rolled a nat one on his constitution saving throw. even though he’s probably physically in shape from motorcycle stuff I could flick him in the forehead and he’d be whining like a baby. If I got the first shot in, I’d have a 99% chance of winning. If he got to me first it would go to about 60%. again, I bite.

Leo Akaba. Here’s where we get into characters that have a greater than 50% chance of beating me. Leo is canonically ripped and also has zero emotions. I would only win if I got close enough for a nut kick, but there’s only one person who wants to be that close to Leo Akaba and it sure as hell ain’t me.

Sora Shuin’in. Holy fuck who let their feral cat off its leash. Sora is literally insane and I am requesting backup. He’d shove that lollipop so far up my ass that I’d be able to tell whether it was lime or green apple. I live in fear of Sora suddenly materializing in my room

Ruri Kurosaki. Remember how I bite? She bites harder. She puts up with No Shit and also has No Fucks To Give.

Serena. No further explanation needed. I fear that explaining it further would cause Feral Child #2 to burst into my brain and start kicking.

Yusho Sakaki. Sweet mother of blue eyes white dragon. remember how I said my personal feelings don’t matter? now they do. smash. next question. wait what were we talking about?

Shun Kurosaki. kinda lost the plot on Yusho but we’re back on track now. Shun canonically took out armed guards by Batmanning his ass up a wall. There’s posters up for him that say “lost dog” and the caption is just “if you find him please keep him”.

Yuto. Everything that Shun is + Ruri taught him how to effectively bite.

Noburu Gongenzaka. he is actually ripped and wears cement shoes for funzies. he could probably just stomp once and my shaky joints would give out on their own. bye.

Yoko Sakaki. canonically beat the stuffing out of people in her past life and I would let her. angry mom energy means I barely make it out alive. smash. wait— shit—

#yugioh arc v #ygo arc v #arc v #reira akaba #yuya sakaki #yuzu hiiragi #yuri arc v #dennis mcfield #reiji akaba #rin arc v #zarc #yugo #leo akaba #sora shiunin #ruri kurosaki #serena #shun kurosaki #yuto #noburu gongenzaka #yoko sakaki #yusho sakaki #gus watches arc v ft. daddy issues #and mommy issues

[beneathashadytree]

hello love, I hope you’re doing well! I just want to let you know I am absolutely in love with your writing style. it’s always such a pleasure to read and I truly enjoy everything I read off your page. thank you for blessing us with your talents! your page is one of my favorites.

that being said, I have a request for a jotaro kujo x female reader. the storyline would be set during the events of part four, during morioh shenanigans.

jotaro has an old friend who had joined the crew during stardust crusaders (a rocker chick with an idgaf attitude). who absolutely hated jotaro (the way he disrespected women, the way he treated others, etc, etc) and joined the crusaders for the sole purpose of proving she was more of an asset than jotaro. during which they bickered nonstop, (literally the nastiest arguments, name calling, etc). only when it came to fighting dio they worked together to get it done and ended up putting their differences aside to become friends. clearly there’s romantic tension there, but despite a few friendly moments nothing comes of the feelings and they set off. ( they’re basically rivals turned friends, but she still likes to piss him off for fun).

years later she gets a call from jotaro asking for her help in morioh, which she very sarcastically accepts. upon her arrival their relationship is more of a sarcastic banter. (her sarcastic witty comments solely to annoy jotaro and him huffing and gruffing). but their feelings quickly return and there’s so much tension. like, awkward tension that neither of them can deny and the entire morioh gang can point it out. finally, they have a heart to heart - and very awkwardly open up to one another over a bottle of booze. they seal it with a kiss, and shenanigans ensue.

TEN YEARS - JOTARO KUJO X READER

Warnings : lots of curse words, misogyny from 17 year-old Jotaro, implications of death, I changed a couple of minor details in canon to fit this, this is not proofread at all, reader uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : fluff with some angst I think

Word count : 4.5K words (oops!)

Additional notes : Aaaaa thank you so so much for your sweet words! I’m so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing. I feel so flattered by your kindness! In all honesty, this request goes against my requesting rules🫣 The length required for such a heavily detailed, canon-non-compliant request means writing no less than 4K words (that’s after skimming over some points too😭), which is the typical length of a ficlet, not a oneshot (which ranges from 1K to 2.5K words). I’m sorry to say this but I have stopped taking requests for ficlets over a year ago🫠 I did feel terrible, however, not taking this request, since you’d been so sweet and nice about it. But please be sure to check out my rules and guidelines before requesting! I like to stick to them to prevent a burnout, and to make sure that I don’t end up taking too long writing one piece only. Nevertheless, I thank you very much for the unique idea. I really hope you like this! 💗💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp.

Masterlist

“So you called me up, just to bring me to your hotel room?” She raised her eyebrow, before tossing her bag onto one of the two chairs by the window. “See, that wasn’t the sort of ‘help’ I had in mind when I’d accepted your invitation.”

Dr. Kujo—or as she knew him to be, Jotaro—could do nothing but roll his eyes. She’d always liked to make a flashy entrance, with more than a few choice words ready on the tip of her tongue.

“I don’t want to know what you’ve pictured.” He sighed, moving from where he stood by the mahogany desk. “Have you heard from Polnareff recently?”

“A little.” She shrugged, a little stiffly, as though the idea of thinking of their troupe back in Egypt wasn’t something she liked to entertain. Crossing her legs, she watched as he pulled something from his jacket. “Last I heard, he was looking for Dio’s arrows, but that’s about it.”

He handed her what looked like a photograph. Squinting her eyes a little, she tried to make out just what she was seeing. “Now, I’m sure seeing me all cross-eyed has you shaking in your boots with excitement, but—“

Jotaro only huffed, a small impatient noise that she’d barely heard. At that, she quirked her eyebrow. That was rather odd. She’d come to get used to his snarky, biting remarks that left no one unscathed—least of all a woman.

“Gone soft, have you? I’d thought you’d have my ass the very second I opened my mouth,” she grinned wickedly, as Jotaro glanced away for a second.

Good. She’d always liked it when he was too flustered to say anything.

Her happiness didn’t last long though. Clearing his throat, his gaze didn’t meet hers and instead focused on the photograph in her hand. “‘s not like you were short in comebacks for everything.”

To her admittance, she felt a spark of irritation. “Well, don’t expect me to sit back and take it. If you had a stick lodged up your ass, that wasn’t any of my business.”

“I’m not here to fight over stuff that happened ten years ago,” he firmly said, before his shoulders relaxed and his voice grew a little quieter, though he remained expressionless. “I was under the impression that we’d… gotten along decently near the end.”

“If you’re trying to say we were friends by the time we faced off Dio, then alright, I’d say we might have been, by a very loose definition of the word.”

A very, very loose definition, given how they’d started out and how they’d ended up.

***

Her family had always been a quaint one, especially by the modern Japanese standards. Rock music had come in a wave that hit her father, and his passion for the genre had infected her, to the extent that it manifested in her stand, Flick of the Wrist, which was her special Rickenbacker bass that could deal serious damage to her opponents eardrums by strumming at too low a frequency.

She’d often gotten stared at by others her age, especially during high school, when she’d hit the arcades on the weekend in her clothes that always garnered attention. Perhaps they’d feared anything that was different—though that fear mixed with respect whenever they stared at Jotaro, who was just as odd by their standards.

Loathe she was to admit just how petty she had been, she truly did despise Jotaro from the very first moment she’d met him during orientation day. She’d never gone out of her way to speak to someone who constantly looked like they had a ten foot pole lodged up their ass, but she’d observed the way he’d interacted with the other students—or rather, the way he hadn’t interacted with them.

His brisk and cold demeanor wasn’t just off-putting, but it also at times turned extremely disrespectful. Overhearing him yelling insults at the girls who fawned over him every morning was what solidified that image of him in her head, and she wasn’t too keen on changing her mind: Jotaro Kujo was a misogynistic asshole, who’d die alone. It was entirely his fault that when he’d injured both her and that new kid Kakyoin, she’d retaliated and flipped him off, before threatening to leave his ears bleeding and useless. Definitely not her personal dislike for him at play.

Though she’d been an intruder in his home at the time, the dire situation she’d found him in had only garnered him a bit of sympathy from her—and not for himself, but for his poor mother who’d had nothing to do with the whole affair with that Dio person.

When she’d suggested to his grandfather, Joseph that she join in on their travels as an additional stand user to their arsenal, Jotaro’s glower had been murderous. “A bitch like her would get us all killed the moment we step out of Japan,” he’d said, with no more than a glance at her as he turned away. But before he could leave amidst Avdol’s horrified protests, she’d called him a “miserable, pathetic bitch-boy”; something he hadn’t taken kindly to, if him rolling up his sleeves was anything to go by.

Kakyoin had interrupted them before things could escalate into a fist fight they were both more than willing to participate in, but as they’d went on their journey, it seemed more than apparent that both she and Jotaro could never be civil towards each other. Jotaro, with all his pretense of maturity and cool-headedness, often opposed her ideas for no good reason, just wanting to prove how much of an idiot she was to their companions. With the way she wanted to show the others just how superior she was as a fighter, and how she was no sniveling kid that needed rescuing, she always butted heads with him the moment he opened his mouth to speak.

Neither of them seemed to care about holding themselves back from cussing each other out, the vilest insults being spat back and forth. She’d never been one to sit back and take disrespect, but to the others, seeing Jotaro so riled up was something rather surprising. Avdol, ever the pacifist, had a hard time choosing between scolding them both and just sighing in defeat as he watched from the sidelines.

In a surprising turn of events, it was Joseph who’d given them a wake up call. “This pettiness will only end up as a weakness that Dio will definitely exploit.” He’d sounded uncharacteristically stern, his usual grin replaced by a deep-set scowl. “Neither of you will be getting anything done at this rate. If you can’t even pretend to like each other, at the very least put in some effort to work together.”

And so, biting the insides of their cheeks and not-so-subtly exchanging looks of disdain, they’d begun the irksome process of biting back their tongues in the presence of each other. With their respective stands, she could momentarily cause enough panic and auditory pain to distract the enemy while Jotaro beat them to a bloody pulp. The key to doing that was fast reflexes, which both of them thankfully had in abandon. With their brains, it didn’t take very long for them to figure out this strategy.

As much as she thought of him a brute, there was little she could complain about concerning him when it came to fighting. Jotaro had proven time and time again that his brash fighting styles weren’t entirely irrational, and the delicate accuracy of her Flick of the Wrist meshed well with Star Platinum’s sheer power. Perhaps it was the satisfaction of seeing their efforts come to fruition with stand users at their feet, or maybe it was the fact that they were both more inclined to listen to each other’s advice when they were putting their lives on the line, but soon enough they weren’t constantly bickering like cats and dogs did.

Instead, there came a mutual understanding; a sense of peace whenever they could glance at each other and nod, before setting off according to plan. She had found herself offering to switch patrol with him when he looked a little worse for wear, and retrieved his beloved hat whenever it got blasted off mid-fight, watching as he’d used it to hide his flush. Though still a little tactless with his words, Jotaro had draped his jacket over her shivering form many a time at night, and had silently bandaged her ripped wounds when she could no longer hide her hisses of pain.

By the time they’d turned up at Dio’s mansion, she’d known that she could no longer say she hated him. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything worse than brief annoyance towards him, and instead she’d found herself wishing she could just take a break from it all and sit with him in peace. They could talk about whatever they think of without any restraints, or they could relish in the silence that envelopes them, just comforted by each other’s existence in the same bubble.

It had sparked something akin to fondness; something she couldn’t dare think of deciphering; something that had warmth pooling in her belly every time she looked at him as he bravely stood his ground, unrelenting (and then she would be hit, once again, with the reminder that they were both just 17 year-olds at the end of the day, and tossed in a world they don’t quite belong in).

In front of the intimidating mansion that would spell out their future, she’d known that things would change forever, regardless of what would happen as soon as they’d stepped across the threshold. And so she’d turned, facing those piercing sea-green eyes that were lit with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You know what, Jotaro?” she’d breathed in, clenching her hands into fists as a small smirk made its way onto her face, “I think I’m starting to find you pretty tolerable.”

He’d raised his eyebrow at that, his lips quirking upwards in a small, barely perceptible smile. “That’s news to me.” His tone was light, but she knew that he knew that she was underplaying how she truly felt. He just went along with it, his arm brushing hers. “Well, I don’t think I find you that annoying.”

“Ah, fuck, guess I’m losing my touch.”

“Good grief…”

And then they’d taken the steps forward that could never be undone. No matter how much they’d wish it, no matter how many nightmares it would bring, and no matter how often they tortured themselves with thoughts of the ones they’d left behind, souls drifting in between, they could never turn back time.

From then on, they’d barely spared each other a second glance on the way back. The wounds were too fresh, and the scars unhealing. Perhaps that was the disadvantage of having understood each other that well; they’d known it was unlikely that either of them would be able to face the other without feeling overexposed. So that was how they’d separated in Japan, hearts aching but faces never betraying how they’d felt at the moment. The radio silence that came afterwards was equal parts unnerving and a blessing.

***

So then why did sitting there in the Grand Morioh Hotel room feel like a death sentence?

She could see with her own two eyes how much Jotaro had changed, inside out. The beautiful eyes she’d remembered as being challenging were wisened and even somewhat exhausted, and his figure was a lot slimmer than she recalled it being. His outfits might’ve been brighter, but he seemed all the more duller in them. It was a bit of a reality check; ten years truly had passed.

Perhaps the bitterness she’d felt seconds ago was due to how they’d left things. She felt as though there was much unsaid, and wasn’t sure if it was only on her end.

Still, it wasn’t fair on him. How she felt, at the very least, was her own responsibility and not his. It wasn’t his fault she’d been too cowardly to speak up at the time. But still, would she call them friends?

It didn’t matter at the moment. She cleared her throat. “Anyways, what’s the deal with Dio’s arrows?”

“A couple of them went awry on the town’s residents. Many have had stand awakenings, and not all with the best intentions.” Jotaro paused, before pointing at the blurry photograph in her hand. “It’s not very clear, but this man is one we’re hunting down at the moment. He’s a stand user, and we’ve had our suspicions that he’s actually a serial killer underneath all that shitty fancy fabric.”

“You’re one to talk about fancy fabric, Mr. I-wear-10K-yen-pants-in-the-desert,” she mumbled under her breath, before leaning in and trying to take a better look. The picture was taken from the back and mid-action, so she could barely make out what he looked like with his head turned to the side. His most distinguishing feature was the striking salt and pepper hair that wasn’t exactly common in the way it looked so obviously dyed. “Okay, he seems pretty conspicuous, so why haven’t you been able to catch him?”

“Lack of evidence.” He took the photograph back, before briefly removing his hat and ruffling back his curls, a troubled look flashing in his eyes as he set the hat down again. “That, and the fact that the situation is pretty… complicated.”

Somehow, she understood the hidden meaning lingering beneath his words. “Too many lives at stake?”

Jotaro hummed in confirmation, picking up a white bag from the vanity beside her and shouldering it. “Come, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Though she briefly hesitated, she nodded and went along with him.

***

She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t a teenage boy with features nearly identical to Jotaro’s—uncannily so. She’d have called them father and son, if he hadn’t looked a little too old for that.

“That’s my, uh, uncle I guess, Josuke.”

A confused look made its way on her face as she looked back and forth between Jotaro and the boy. “Huh? Don’t you mean the other way around?”

He looked exhausted as he shook his head, “Apparently, Joseph’s his father, so that makes him my uncle despite being 16.”

She blinked, a hand on her hips as she leaned back. “I don’t know what family dynamic this is, and I’m not sure I want to find out.”

“I didn’t know you knew pretty babes, Jotaro. Were you keeping her a secret from us?” the boy interrupted, a cheeky grin on his face, clearly trying to appear charming (which was a little hard to achieve, given that his pompadour haircut was more than a couple of decades out of style).

Smirking, she spared the exasperated-looking marine biologist a glance, before looking back at Josuke. “Just one babe, not plural. I’m probably the only chick Jotaro’s ever interacted with.”

Josuke looked confused. “What? I’m pretty sure he was married at some point.”

She looked momentarily horrified, eyes wide as saucers. “Married?!”

The teenager awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, and he’s got a 7 year-old daughter. Her name’s Jolyne—“

“Daughter?!” She whipped her head to Jotaro, disbelief written all over her face, “Are you fucking with me? Were you not planning on mentioning any of this?”

“Good grief,” Jotaro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled through it, “I was married. Past tense. We got divorced a few years after having Jolyne. She’s currently with her mother in Florida.”

“Florida…” she weakly repeated, struck with the realization that she truly knew nothing about the Jotaro in front of her. Though now, things made a little more sense than they did before. The reason why he’d mellowed out must’ve owed to the fact that he’d fallen in love and had a daughter over the years. Both had softened his sharp edges, it seemed, but it certainly caused a pang in her chest as she wondered if he’d ever even felt the same about her back then; after all, it seemed odd that he’d get over her that fast, if she’d done the math correctly and calculated the timeline right.

All she could do was nod, before turning back to Josuke. “Seeing as you’re the old man’s son, you’re probably a stand user, right?”

He looked a little surprised. “You know about them? Do you have one too?”

With a quick swish of her arm, she pulled out Flick of the Wrist that had been slung around her back. “If I strum this bad boy, you’ll be bleeding out from your ears before you can say “damn bitch”—which I assure you, your dearest nephew has called me multiple times.”

“That was then…” Jotaro gruffly said, before shaking his head, as if to say that he wasn’t even going to bother explaining himself. “Anyways, about our suspect…”

***

It quickly became an almost-daily thing; she and Jotaro would leave the hotel (where he’d actually booked her a room, a fact that had both surprised her and made her a little happier than she’d care to admit), meet up with Josuke and a couple of his friends that often tagged along, and discuss their strategy. They’d need to rely on Rohan, something Josuke was more than a little miffed by.

Okuyasu and Koichi were nice enough kids, but they didn’t seem to worry their heads too much. They trusted in the combined stand power of the three of them, which was equal parts heartwarming and naïve.

And Jotaro was… well, Jotaro. He was always that odd mix of enigmatic and straightforward; of unnerving and comforting; of frustrating and amusing. She’d catch him watching the Morioh teens with a half-smile that, a decade ago, he would’ve normally never let show on his face, and she’d grin back at him. “Getting all mushy on me, Dr. Kujo?” she’d say every time, only for him to tell her to shut up without a single ounce of malice.

She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t fear for him. Jotaro’s Star Platinum’s power was almost absolute, especially once The World was activated, but she still feared that it would catch up to him someday. Karmic retribution was very much real, but did it work on people who did seemingly-horrible stuff for the greater good?

“What’s wrong?”

Speak (or in this case, think) of the devil and he appears. Facing him as they stood in Josuke’s front lawn, she allowed herself to express her weariness. “Just thinking a little. Any news from the pissy mangaka?”

“Rohan’s gonna confront the kid. Something’s wrong with that family, but we don’t know what.” Jotaro looked more exhausted than she’d ever seen him, and that was saying something. With bags under his eyes and his curls ruffled beneath his hat, he looked like he was carrying the burdens of the whole world.

She gave him a pointed look. “Really? You’re talking about odd families?”

He glared at her, but she saw no actual anger behind it. His gaze returned to Okuyasu, who was currently being held in a headlock after getting caught cheating on Josuke in a particularly enthusiastic game of cards. “Anyways, we don’t want to potentially endanger someone innocent. His family’s probably unaware, but the kid probably knows something.”

“I hate hearing about kids who’ve been burdened with the knowledge of something bigger than them,” she mumbled under her breath, a little darkness underlying in her expression. When Jotaro turned back to her, he stared at her for a couple of seconds, trying to figure something out.

“You mean like us back then.” He wasn’t asking, he simply stated it. Meeting his eyes was a lot more difficult this time, but she did all the same. Something heavy lingered in them, and she felt herself compelled to lean in closer. Jotaro simply let her, his own eyes darkening. There was something she had to see, but she didn’t know what—all she knew was that getting a closer look at him was something she desperately needed.

“You’d always been braver than you should’ve been,” she murmured, her eyes flickering to his full lips for a moment. Jotaro himself had dipped his head a little closer to hers, before—

“Hey lovebirds, quit it with the PDA! We need you here as refs!” Josuke’s yell came from behind them, causing them to snap backwards and hurriedly shift back to their places. Whatever that was—and she was sure that she hadn’t imagined it this time—could wait.

***

Rohan had set the date. Tomorrow they’d be putting the plan in motion, because waiting any longer only meant that they’d be risking the lives of every resident of Morioh for another day. As a form of celebration, as soon as they’d gotten back to the hotel, she’d suggested they lounge in Jotaro’s room with a couple of beers. He hadn’t protested, but he hadn’t seemed particularly enthusiastic. Maybe he still remembered how she was when she was drunk; shitfaced after guzzling just one beer can.

When she made it inside, she was a little surprised to find that the lights had been dimmed, casting warm shadows across the walls. Instead of the hotel beer cans that she’d expected to find, she found a bottle of wine and two glasses set on the small table by the window.

“Splurging all that scientist money, I see.” She raised her eyebrow, taking a seat and exhaling in relaxation as she did.

Jotaro poured the wine into their glasses, but certainly not without correcting her. “Marine biologist.”

“Doesn’t matter as long as you’re loaded,” she chuckled, only waiting for him to sit in front of her before taking a sip. “This is good. Looks a little odd though.”

“Zinfandel rose wine. There’s a hint of strawberry in that.” He took a sip, a satisfied hum escaping the back of his throat as he did, and she struggled to look away from his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Thought it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy our last night.”

“Already putting me to the grave? You’ll have to work harder to get rid of me.” A flustered sound so uncharacteristic to him left his lips, and it seemed that it took him a couple of seconds to realize that she was only teasing him. “Don’t worry, I know you meant our last night in Morioh. Hopefully.”

They lapsed into silence, contemplative looks on each of their faces. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the other was thinking of.

“They do remind me of us.” Jotaro’s voice was a lot gruffer when he said that. Perhaps it was just him trying to put up a tough front as he always had.

“Yeah, with significantly less clinically insane vampires, though,” she snorted, swirling the remains of the pink alcohol in her glass.

“Glad we both got rid of the last of those.” Jotaro sounded amused as he reached out to refill their glasses. “Not really sure if it was worth teaming up with you for a whole damn month.”

“Ha!” she chortled, downing half the glass in one gulp before setting it down with a challenging look in her eyes. “You definitely liked me back then.”

He went quiet for a moment, before softly speaking up again. “I did.”

Freezing in place, she gaped at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I had feelings for you back then,” he slowly said, brilliant bright eyes meeting hers and pinning her in place.

Her shoulders drooped and her fingers fell from the wine glass. “Well then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Jotaro almost looked incredulous as he asked, “Was there ever a time for that?” She looked away as he set down his glass too. “We were on a bit of fucking tight schedule.”

“Fine, that’s understandable, but what about after we got to Japan?”

Now it was his turn to look sheepish. “I thought you’d never want to talk to me again. Partially because you hadn’t forgiven me for how I used to be at the start, and partially because you wanted to forget all about the trip.”

“But not about you,” she swallowed thickly, the emotions she’d repressed all these years swelling inside her and threatening to burst, “Because I liked you too, you fucking Neanderthal,” she choked out a laugh, as Jotaro looked nothing short of stunned. “I was too busy wondering why the fuck I wanted to kiss you senseless back then when we were finally getting along well.”

“How was I supposed to know that…” he mumbled weakly, before emptying the glass in one shot. He somehow looked tired and yet also more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, and the fact caused the same swell of affection to bubble in her chest, the warmth spreading to her limbs.

“I thought I was being a little obvious.”

Jotaro shook his head. “If you were, I wouldn’t have thought I had to marry my college friend to get over you, would I?”

So that explained the sudden marriage. It made far more sense (and honestly hurt way less) than believing she’d meant nothing more to him than an ally; someone he’d forgotten overnight. Because only the heavens knew just how impossible he’d made it to forget him—every snarky remark, every witty comeback, every gentle touch, and every ounce of faith in her had made her think of him every night she’d spent on her own, willing the clock to turn back its hands. Eventually, her wistfulness had morphed into a bitter feeling sinking in her chest, and she could no longer afford thinking of him so fondly; not when she still wasn’t over him while he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

But now? Now Jotaro’s wine-stained lips were inviting in the warm dim lighting of the room. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed him taking off his hat and setting it down, ebony curls falling forward and painting him as the picture of enticement. Maybe back when they’d first met she’d disliked him too much to pay it any mind, but Jotaro really had the looks that made her breath catch in her throat. And now that she knew just how tender his sea-green eyes could get when looking at someone, she found him particularly enchanting.

Before she’d even noticed it, she was leaning in across the small table. “If I kissed you now, would I be making my feelings obvious enough?”

If the small smile on his face wasn’t a clear enough invitation, then his hand pushing his drained wine glass out of the way was more than enough of a confirmation.

Resting her weight against the small table, she leaned in so close she could clearly see his thick eyelashes, and he closed the remaining distance between them as her eyes fluttered shut. The first thought in her mind was, ‘Holy fuck, does he taste sweet.’ She didn’t know if it was the wine on his lips, or if he was just a naturally brilliant kisser, but she knew she’d be damned if she ever forgot how kissing him felt. Teasingly, she nipped at his full lower lip, reveling in the deep sound of pleasure that escaped him, and in the way his hand snuck to the back of her neck to pull her in for a deeper kiss.

Much to their mutual disappointment, they soon had to part for air. Breathing heavily, they must’ve both looked positively hypnotized, if she went by the way they were both staring at each other.

“Think you might want to do that again,” he mumbled against her warm skin, thumbing her lips in a daring move she’d never have expected from him.

“What?” she breathily asked, more dazed by the mindblowing kiss than she’d like to admit.

“To make your feelings obvious. Kiss me again.”

And with her trembling hands and eager mouth, she was more than happy to oblige. After all, there was 10 years-worth of waiting to put into motion.

Taglist: @mrsgiovanna @blondeboyfriend @boorishbrambling

#imagine #oneshot #fluff #anime #jojo #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #jojo part 4 #jojo’s bizarre adventure stardust crusaders #jojo’s bizarre adventure diamond is unbreakable #stardust crusaders #diamond is unbreakable #jojo x reader #jojo oneshot #jojo fluff #jotaro kujo #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo fluff #jotaro kujo oneshot #jotaro x reader #jotaro #jotaro oneshot #jotaro fluff #kujo jotaro #kujo jotaro x reader #kujo jotaro fluff #kujo jotaro oneshot #diu #sdc

[maya-matlin]

Your answers to these asks are among the few highlights of my life, which is currently a trainwreck :)

Five Degrassi characters most fans seem to love who you don't like much?

Five Degrassi characters most fans seem meh on who you love? (Yes, you're totally allowed to list Zig here if you want to :))

Five canon Degrassi romantic ships most fans love that you don't like much?

Five canon Degrassi ships you love that most fans seem meh on?

Ten favorite friendships/platonic ships (ie siblings count too) of the series?

Aw, I'm sorry! 💖 Same, honestly. But I still appreciate the asks. :)

1.) Five characters most fans seem to love who you don't like much?

My main answer will always and forever be Eli Goldsworthy. He's still massively popular with his every indefensible action deemed "out of character" even though being shitty, controlling and misogynistic towards Clare is practically half of his character. I probably enjoy his character best in friendship scenes and as a supporting character than I ever do when he's the lead of a story line, and especially when he's a love interest.

Other than Eli, there's Cam. It's not that I don't like the character. I like him fine and have felt more positively towards him than I have in years. But, he's just some guy to me? Cam was part of an incredibly well written, emotional story line. Dylan Everett acted the hell out of it. But I wouldn't rank him anywhere near my favorite or even the best Degrassi characters. He served his purpose and overall, just wasn't fully fleshed out enough for me to have all that strong of an opinion of him. The worst of them though is Katie. I can't stand her and even though she's more divisive these days than popular, I still think she's more liked than disliked and I will never understand why.

2.) Five characters most fans seem meh on who you love?

LMAO I feel Zig is more love/hate than meh, but obviously him. There are very few fans who are nearly as passionate about the character as me, which is probably why he's constantly misunderstood. He's always been overshadowed by the much more popular Cam and Miles.

I'm just going to cheat and say five more instead of four. Dave, Marisol, Jenna, Ashley and Shay. All of them are either generally disliked or found "boring," but I'm a big fan of all of them and what they brought to the show. Dave never lives down his worst actions even though more than most characters, he actually tries to make amends and grew quite a bit during seasons 11 and 12. No one ever forgets Marisol's and Jenna's past as "boyfriend stealers", regardless of KC's culpability in that and how both became wiser, kinder, more giving people as time went on. It's actually ridiculous how Ashley being an occasionally moody and dramatic (really depressed, but it's not acknowledged) teenager is considered so much worse than literally everything most of the other characters were up to. Shay's kind of the same way, only mostly just overshadowed by Lola's popularity.

3.) Five canon romantic ships most fans love that you don't like much?

Miles/Lola, Cam/Maya, Eli/Clare, Dallas/Alli & Paige/Alex

4.) Five canon ships you love that most fans seem meh on?

Tristan/Miles (as always, it's complicated these days, but admitting you don't think Tristan is Satan himself and that their relationship wasn't a gigantic monstrosity is controversial, so obviously they belong here), Dave/Alli, Clare/Jake, Frankie/Esme (I don't know if this is true, but the general fandom is so negative about Next Class) & Craig/Ashley

5.) Ten favorite friendships/platonic ships of the series?

In no order:

(1) Spinner/Jimmy

(2) Emma/Manny

(3) Marco/Ellie

(4) Zig/Maya/Tiny/Grace

(5) Drew/Adam

(6) Craig/Joey

(7) Fiona/Holly J

(8) JT/Toby

(9) Spinner/Jay

(10) Downtown Sasquatch (I'm counting the group as one)

#thedegrassidiaries

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Thirty Four

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~4200

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Eva sat on the floor in front of the couch with a local newspaper spread out in front of her. To her right was a cup of freshly brewed coffee. To her left was a Spanish to English translation book that Horacio bought for her at the Embassy. Back and forth she went, reading as much as she could from the articles and looking up what she couldn’t.

This routine started the day Horacio returned to work. Eva usually woke while he was in the shower, meandered downstairs to start the coffee, and sat on the back porch until Horacio stepped out to kiss her goodbye. When the morning paper hit the front step, she would carefully lay it out on the floor and start to work her way through it. Article by article, sometimes word by word.

It was tedious work, but Eva could tell she was making slow, steady progress. Where a few weeks ago it would have taken her until lunchtime to read through the whole paper, now it was only taking until mid morning.

She saved the job listings for last.

Eva knew that she wasn’t going to do well in any job where she had to interact with the public—at least, not for a long time. Though she heard it every day, her speaking skills when it came to Spanish were novice, at best. The jobs available to her were going to be few and far between, but Eva forced herself to be patient.

She circled one or two that were close by on a notepad and folded the paper so that Horacio could read it later. Then, she went upstairs and got dressed. She put on a sensible pair of shoes and tucked a some money into her pocket along with an extra pen in case she needed to fill out an application. With a little pep in her step, Eva locked up the house and made her way down the street.

This was also a kind of routine for her.

Without a car, Eva was forced to walk if she wanted to go out during the day. She found that she didn’t mind. The weather usually was mild and sunny with a nice breeze that carried her block by block. On the first few trips, Eva started small and circled back after five or ten minutes so she didn’t get lost. As she grew more confident in knowing where she was, Eva began to branch out in different directions. By now, she knew where to find the local grocer, the nearest gas station, several small restaurants, and a food stand that seemed to be perpetually overflowing with fruit.

It was late afternoon by the time Eva returned to the house. She trudged up the steps, feeling much less enthusiastic than when she left. Inside, she kicked off her shoes and continued the trudge to the kitchen.  On the way, she tossed the little scrap of paper with the job listings on it into the trash.

No one wanted to hire a woman with no prior experience who couldn’t even speak the language. Eva didn’t blame them. Not really. But, the rejection stung. She was an accomplished accountant, had years of knowledge to bolster her work—years that she couldn’t even use because Eva Carrillo technically didn’t exist less than a month ago.

She didn’t actually need a job, but something inside her cringed at the thought of laying on the couch all day while Horacio went off to work. Eva was a smart, capable woman. Given the chance, she could earn an honest living.

Cold drink in hand, Eva went to the living room and plopped on the couch. While she sipped from the glass, she thought about how she’d been waved off by a first a middle aged man, then an elderly woman. Neither of them thought she was a good fit for dish washing or shelf stocking. Her ego, fragile as it was, felt deeply bruised.

Eva sighed and, needing a distraction from her thoughts, grabbed the remote. She didn’t much care what was on the TV. She just needed noise. The screen flickered and the sound of an argument filtered through static. Words flew back and forth with passion and precision. The image and sound stabilized to show a man and woman standing on opposite sides of a well decorated room.

Tossing the remote aside, Eva settled in to watch. Half an hour later, she had learned with her meager Spanish that the woman’s name was Maria, the man’s name was Sergio, and they were ex-lovers who just happened to cross each other’s path many years later. Their attraction was as strong as ever and it was clear that whatever had torn them apart (Eva thought it had something to do with a bicycle) had been resolved with time.

The problem? Sergio was engaged to be married to Luz.

The exaggerated emotions and the way the actors sometimes repeated what they were saying helped Eva along in comprehending the story line. By the end of the program, she was actually looking forward to watching the next episode. How else was she going to find out which woman Sergio would eventually marry?

A glance at the clock told her that Horacio would be home soon. She clicked off the TV and went upstairs to shower off the grit of the day. While she picked through her clothes to find an outfit, Eva did her best to forget about her disastrous walk around the town. It was only her first run at getting a job and there was no rush.

She was just applying a bit of lip gloss when she heard the front door open and close. Horacio’s distinctive step moved through the lower level of the house and he called out her name.

“Up here!” Eva called back as she gave her hair a final fluff.

Absently, she listened to his steps as he ascended the stairs. Horacio cleared the doorway at nearly the same time Eva stepped out of the bathroom. He was wearing his uniform, as he did every day he went to work. The slacks still had the crease from where he ironed them, although there were some wrinkles that hadn’t been there before.

On the first day he’d worn the army green shirt and trousers, Eva struggled to keep the smile off her face. Up until that moment, the fact that Horacio was an officer existed only as an abstract concept. An errant reality. Seeing him dressed in the clothes befitting his rank was an odd experience, but Eva couldn’t quite figure out why.

Walking towards her, Horacio looked very much at home in his government issued uniform—although, it was a wonder that they found anything that fit him. His shoulders pulled at the material, straining the yoke of the shirt. The hem of the short sleeve looked like it was digging into his bicep. Even the meticulously sewn buttons fought to keep their place in the buttonholes.

The unit, she guessed, couldn’t afford custom tailoring.

“How was your day?”

Horacio shrugged, “New recruits came in.” He leaned down to kiss her, “Next couple weeks will be their boot camp.”

Eva could just imagine what that was like with Horacio leading it. Green boys being pushed to their limits by their unrelenting Captain. “Make any of them cry?”

One side of his mouth lifted, “No, but its only the first day.”

He turned and began to unbutton his shirt. Eva sat on the end of the bed and leaned back on her elbows. Horacio liked to get out of his uniform as soon as he got home and Eva absolutely did not mind the show. The button up was thrown into the hamper, leaving him in his undershirt. Eva followed the path of his spine down to where his belt was being pulled through the loops. Head tilting to the side, she considered the firm swell of muscle just below.

Horacio had a nice ass and it was displayed particularly well when he bent over to take off his slacks. A lot of people might overlook it, too distracted by the breadth of his chest and shoulders. Eva thought they were missing out.

He reached behind him and tugged off his undershirt, throwing it in the hamper with the rest of his clothes. Eva sighed. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. He was so pretty. All thick muscle and brute strength. Eva could look at him all day and still not be satisfied.

Her fingers curled with the need to touch, but she stayed put. Eva liked the tension that built inside her while she watched him pull on a pair of khakis and select a polo shirt from the closet. She liked knowing that, at any point, she could stand up and stop him. That she could draw him over to the bed and strip him back down to bare skin. And, he would let her—willingly, enthusiastically.

Horacio turned and caught her stare. Eva held his gaze unabashedly, letting him know what she was thinking without words. In an uncharacteristic bout of shyness, he ducked his head and smiled softly. Eva matched that smile with one of her own, a warm affection bubbling in her chest.

“I thought,” he said while he walked towards her, “we might go shopping.”

Her brows lifted, “Yeah?”

A nod, “You were saying a few days ago that you wanted to buy a dining room table.”

Eva was surprised he’d heard her. She’d said it while he was standing near the doorway to the dining room with phone to his ear. About every two or three evenings, he would lean against the jamb for at least an hour while someone at work relayed information to him that—for some reason—could not wait until the following morning.

“It would be nice to eat at the table instead of the living room.”

He sat next to her and picked up one of a pair of shoes he kept for when he wasn’t at work, “It would. And, since we’re out, we can grab dinner.”

She smirked, “Is that a dig at my cooking skills?”

Eva was very, very slowly learning to put meals together. Having never really cooked in Louisiana, her abilities were limited. But, she’d figured out how to fry vegetables together and season meat so that it was tender.

Horacio shook his head, “Just thought it would be nice to go out. There’s a place in the city that’s got good food.”

Happy with the suggestion, Eva nudged Horacio’s shoulder and said, “Is there a dress code? Should I change?”

He looked her over, eyes lingering on the way her skirt draped over her thighs, “No. You’re perfect.”

Her heart gave a little flutter at the honesty in his tone. Horacio complimented her nearly every day, saying that he liked her hair or her eyes or, in more intimate moments, how good it felt to be inside her. Eva hoped that she never got used to it. She hoped that she always had a lump in her throat when he said things like that.

Horacio stood and reached for her hand, “C’mon. The store closes in an hour.”

Eva went with him. She held his hand the whole way to the truck, until she climbed into the passenger’s seat and he closed the door behind her. The ride to the furniture store was short and, when Horacio pulled into the parking lot, Eva wondered if they were in the right place. There was no sign out front, no display windows. Just a plain building painted in a soft yellow with and awning over the door.

She followed Horacio’s confident step across the lot. He held the door open for her and she stepped inside. Looking around, she discovered a quaint little shop with antiques scattered around the front room. Down a sloped ramp was a hallway with a ceiling that was almost totally covered in lights of all kinds. Chandeliers, wall sconces, flush lights, all of which glittered happily at her. When she cast Horacio a look of giddy surprise, he smiled as if he’d known all along that she’d be impressed.

From somewhere in the back, a shop owner sauntered forward. He was a short man in his fifties. His mustache twitched over a cigarette that he tapped into a small, glass ashtray held in his other hand. He greeted Horacio as if he’d known him his whole life. A warm handshake, an affectionate pat on the back.

Eva stood off to the side while the two men exchanged pleasantries. In the meantime, she could peruse the wares. To her left was a rocking chair that had little birds carved into its back. The piece was probably over a decade old, but looked very solid. She reached out and tapped the arm, smiling when it rocked back and forth steadily.

To her right was a large cabinet full of glass knickknacks. She stepped up to it and peered inside. Most of the items were novelty. Little angels, a virgin Mary, farm animals. There was a nice goblet or two in the back and a set of china on the lowest shelf. Eva didn’t think they needed anything that formal at the moment, but made a note to come back for it if they ever decided to entertain a large party.

Horacio got her attention. Then, to the store owner, “Mi esposa, Eva. Eva, Señor Abila.”

Señor Abila looked shocked. He pointed at Eva, “¿Tu esposa?”

“Sí.”

Hands clasped in front of his heart, Señor Abila welcomed Eva to the shop. She replied to him meekly and apologized for her Spanish. He waved her off and simply said, “¿Americano, eh?”

They were led further into the building, past the hallway of lights and into a larger room with sofas, love seats, tables, chairs, and other larger furniture. They were shown a few dining room sets, each a little bit different from the last, but all made of solid wood. Eva guessed that most of them were used, but she could tell that they had been thoroughly cleaned. Some of them had a fresh coat of lacquer.

After getting the tour, Señor Abila stepped away to let them ‘discuss’.

Horacio turned to her, “What do you think?”

Eva considered her options, “I think a setting for six is probably the best fit for the room, don’t you?”

He shrugged, “Maybe.”

The non-committal answer made her pause. Did he actually not have an opinion or did he not agree with her? A niggling anxiety worked its way into the back of her mind.

“Um,” she said, “If you have a preference, we can go with that.”

“No,” he replied lightly, “I don’t have a preference, as long as its a good height.”

Eva’s mouth opened in confusion, “Height?”

He hummed in confirmation, as if she should know exactly why a dining room table needed to be the right height. Moving to a set in a soft, yellowish stain, Eva laid her hand on it, “Is this the right height?”

Horacio glanced at it, then walked over and pulled out a chair. He sat down, looking thoughtful. Eva watched his expression closely, completely unable to discern what he might be thinking. At least, until his hands reached up and grasped her hips. Making a soft sound of surprise, Eva let him guide her in front of him until he pressed her back against the table.

“What are you—oh!” Realization dawned on her with striking clarity. She said his name in an embarrassed hiss while she checked to see if the shop owner was looking.

Horacio was unbothered, “Food isn’t the only thing I’m going to eat at this table. I want to make sure we’re both comfortable.”

Hand covering her face, Eva peeked out from between her fingers at him. Horacio’s eyes sparkled with amusement, mouth pulled tight with the effort it took to restrain his laugh.

He stood, “You’re right, too low. Let’s try this one.”

Eva resisted him as he led her to an oval shaped table with six chairs. The wood was stained dark enough that she almost couldn’t see the grain. Horacio pulled out a chair and sat in it, easing her around so that she stood between him and the table. With a serious look, he said, “You’ll have to sit.”

“I will not!” she shot back lowly.

He rolled his eyes, “Alright. Lean.”

Reluctantly, Eva let him push her back against the table until her hips canted forward to his satisfaction. Shoulders up near her ears, Eva rested her weight on her hands and glanced sidelong at him to gauge his reaction.

Playful eyes met hers, “Mmhmm. This is a good height.”

Licking suddenly dry lips, Eva could only nod. Horacio’s hands on her hips squeezed gently. When he stood, they were so close that she could feel his breath.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, not entirely certain if she was still talking about the table.

“Yes,” he replied easily, “its what I want.”

His mouth pursed, as if he was going to kiss her. And then his eyes cut to the side. Eva followed his gaze to find the shop owner walking towards them with a wide smile. Señor Abila was a man who knew when he’d made a sale.

Eva stepped away again to let Horacio negotiate price and delivery. She wandered around, feeling the fabric of a few sofas and sitting experimentally on a mattress. There was plenty to look at and almost all of it was good quality. This was a place that Eva could see herself returning to time and again—which was probably why Horacio brought her here.

Tucked into a corner, near a large loading door, was a bit of white painted wood that stuck out awkwardly from behind a bed frame. Curious, Eva went over to it and lifted the frame gently to get a better look.

A crib.

The build of it was outdated and the paint was scratched, but the bottom had little rocking feet so that it could tilt back and forth. At the head was a painted rabbit with pink eyes. It was probably built for a baby girl.

Feeling a painful tightness in her chest, Eva set the frame back into place and returned to the men. They were bouncing numbers back and forth in quick succession. Their voices were light and smooth, not a hint of annoyance in their tone. Señor Abila looked as if he were enjoying himself. Horacio, too, if she were being honest.

Eventually, the price was settled and a delivery date of the following weekend was set. Eva thanked Señor Abila for his assistance and he said something to Horacio that made him scoff and roll his eyes.

A short time later, as they pulled out of the parking lot, Eva asked, “How long have you known Señor Abila?”

Horacio pulled onto the street, “Since I was very young. My mother buys all her furniture from him.”

Eva nodded, “Its nice that she has a good relationship with him.”

Laughing, Horacio shook his head, “They do not have a good relationship. If anything, Señor Abila tries to avoid having her come in.”

She was confused, and said so.

“My mother,” Horacio explained, “is not an easy customer. She likes to have things the way she wants.” He paused, smiling to himself, “And, not just when it comes to furniture.”

A woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to fight for it. Eva smiled, “I think I’d like her.”

He pulled to a stop light and looked at her, “I hope you will.”

In all the chaos of the last few weeks, Eva had almost forgotten that she had ‘married’ into an actual family. With real people. Who she would have to meet. And spend time with. And talk to. It was suddenly a very real, and very daunting, task. She glanced at Horacio, hoping he would be patient with her.

The truck took a turn onto a side street and Horacio guided it into a parking lot. Eva got out and rounded the vehicle while she looked at yet another nondescript building. Horacio took her hand, “The entrance is over here.”

He led her to a door that blended in with the stonework. Inside, the hostess greeted him and gestured towards a large archway. Through it was a small, but busy restaurant. Circular tables covered with white table cloths dotted the room. Metal work chandeliers hung from the ceiling, giving the whole room a soft, warm glow.

They were seated off to the side and handed menus. Eva opened hers and took a fortifying breath while she began to translate in her head. The words were, at the same time, both familiar and foreign. She knew what most of the dishes were, but something in her brain kept her from knowing what she might find appetizing.

Resigned, she closed the menu, “How about you pick something out for me?”

Horacio looked at her from over the edge of his menu, “What are you in the mood for?”

She gave a deliberately careless shrug, “Surprise me.”

Though he looked at her a beat or two longer, Horacio didn’t comment on her request. His eyes scanned the menu in his hands for a while before he set it aside. The waitress came and took their drink order, returning with two tumblers of dark liquor.

Eva picked her up and sniffed it. Bourbon. Possibly whiskey. She sipped and struggled to swallow as it burned in her throat. “Wow,” she croaked.

Horacio chuckled, “It takes some getting used to.”

“Uh huh,” was her rasping response, “Do they use that to strip paint?”

He pretended to think about it, “I think they do.”

“It would certainly do the job.”

Setting the glass down, Eva took a deep breath and let it out slowly to regain her bearings, “Is this a place you come to a lot?”

“Yes,” he answered, folding his arms on the table and leaning towards her, “Its one of my favorites.”

Eva made sure to file that tidbit of information away for the future, “Oh?”

He bobbed his head a little, “It opened while I was training and its not far from the office. We do retirement parties here, sometimes.”

She tried to imagine what a retirement party looked like for his unit and, for some reason, there were definitely sparklers on a cake.

“Well, the booze is definitely memorable,” Eva picked up her glass in a kind of mock salute.

The waitress returned and inquired about food. Horacio asked a question or two before telling her what they wanted in soft, rolling sentences that made Eva want to reach over and brush her fingers against his throat.

When they were left alone again, Eva shook away the thought and asked, “How is it? Transitioning back to work after being away so long?”

If she understood it right, Horacio had been in the States for at least eight months, maybe more. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it was to go from living full time away from his home to stepping right back into his old life.

Horacio took some time to think about the question, “I thought it would be more...more. What I was doing in America was so...different. I didn’t have any men to make sure stayed in line and the paperwork was…” His head cocked to the side, “I don’t think there was any paperwork.”

“Are you happy to be back?”

He smiled, “Yes. I missed home.”

Eva felt her lips pull into a small smile of her own, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

His hand reached out and took one of hers, “Once you settle in, I think you’ll be happy, too.”

She was already happy.

Eva didn’t have the words to describe how happy she was. Everything that had plagued her life for the last seven years was gone, left behind. She had a new identity, a new home, a new person to spend her time with. For the first time, Eva had the opportunity to build something that was completely hers.

Their food arrived, sizzling on the plates. Horacio had a mix of meat and vegetables with tortillas and Eva had rice and vegetables served with a half moon of fried dough. She cut into it, letting out steam that was filled with aromatic spices.

God, but it was good.

Eva dug in. Every bite was perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned. She didn’t care that her tongue burned a little with the spice or that she was eating more in one sitting than she normally would in an entire day. She ate happily and talked with Horacio between bites.

Somewhere along the way, a thought occurred to her, “We’re doing it backwards.”

His brows raised in question.

Eva almost laughed. It was so ludicrous that, if she weren’t sitting right there as living proof, she would have argued against it.

“Us,” she explained, “We’re doing it backwards.”

“I don’t understand,” he said slowly.

She set down her fork, “Usually you go on a date—several dates—before you get married. Right?”

It took him a long moment to compute, “I—yes?”

Eva turned her shoulders coyly, “So, we’re doing it backwards. We got married and then went on a date.”

His confusion turned into a kind of wry amusement, “I think you’re right.” Then, “I don’t mind.”

She smiled, “Neither do I.”

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Au #Maurice Compte #A/B/O dynamics

[wrencatte]

Whumptober 2022 (so far) - Jason Todd Edition

Current Count: 10 Stories. 43,967 word. Updated: October 14 (yes, I’m behind ;-;)

No1. Adverse Effects hollow men: 3,208 - in which I hurt Tim and make it Jason’s problem while he has his own problems. feat. batbros, pit rage, and Jason being a book nerd.

No21. “You’re safe now.” empty: 4,486 - Jason’s been missing for 3 months and Dick finds him, and gets protective and angry about it. feat. good brother Dick Grayson, an implied bamf Jason, and more hurt than comfort

No29. Sleep Deprivation sleepless: 5,839 - Jason can’t sleep. Like, literally can’t sleep. That’s it, that’s the plot.(okay, technically there’s more to it, but...) feat. batfamily!! Everyone cares about Jason

No2. Caged electrifying: 4,450 - in which I have four batkids to torture and I only focus on Jason. feat. protective Dick! protective Tim! Protective Damian! Poor Jason!

No12. Cave In this weight is mine: 2,815 - the day i learned Jason can canonically hold a collapsing building over his head is the day I lost any sane thought concerning this man. feat. good with kids! Jason, protective ten-year-old civilian, Jason being appreciated by other heroes. AND FAN ART

No16. Mind Control persuasion: 4,896 - that one fic that could really stand to be turned into something longer. Someone wants to kill Bruce Wayne and Jason is the (unwilling) weapon. feat. Cass & Jason bonding! background Steph being protective of Damian. Good dad Bruce!

No5. Blood Loss slow motion: 6,523 - a really bad sniper shoots Jason twice, and Tim and Damian are the best brothers ever. feat. multiple povs, smart Jason, and batbros

No25. Lost Voice when words fail: 3,477 - Dick (sorta) finds out about The Batarang Incident (TM). Jason gets a hug. feat. good bro Dick, good bro Jason, and much needed hugs!

No6. “I’ve got a pulse.” of memories and fire: 2,629 - Bruce is totally sure he got over the trauma that resulted from his son being beaten and blown up. Totally sure. (LIES) feat. Bruce Has Feelings, Bruce & Jason Hugging, Jason Calling Bruce Dad. AKA, a fic that made the author cry.

No3. Impaled oh, just hangin’ out: 5,644 - Jason is both smart and very stupid and ends up imitating a dead butterfly against his will. Damian has a lot of feelings and doesn’t know how to deal with them. feat. competent Jason (at least until the ‘impaled’ part of this prompt), and Damian loving his family and pouting about the fact that he loves them

series - outrunning karma (whumptober ‘22)

#jason todd #Red Hood #hurt Jason Todd #batfamily #Whumptober2022 #my writing #pinned post #fanfiction #hopefully all the links work #for some reason ao3 says i posted the impaled fill today (14th) when i definitely posted it yesterday (13th)

[dessaraezzz]

kakegurui xx was actually about love and sacrifice

kkg manga (chapter 69+) and season 2 spoilers

i got this theory while i wasn’t even watching kakegurui hahaha. it basically stemmed from the two major ships’ episodes.

anyways

episode one/two: there’s a lot going on, but the main focus of the episode is the guillotine gamble with Yumeko, Midari, and Erimi. Midari may not love Yumeko but there is definitely an infatuation. for most of the game, she sacrificed her favorite way of playing to make Yumeko happy. Midari actually showed some self-control by not trying to hurt herself just to get back in Yumeko’s good graces.

episode three/four: the nim type zero arc is literally one of my favorite arcs ever. where do i even begin. first of all Ririka’s partnership proposal. Mary originally dismissed the idea, but she had to accept in order to save Yumeko. this is the first way she sacrificed herself for Yumeko, a person she admires. the second time was when she and Ryota both put their lives on the line to save Yumeko. Ryota bet his only vote and a months worth of service hours to make the game less one-sided against Yumeko. the two opponents, Miyo and Miri, have their own love and sacrifice moment. we don’t know until later in the manga, but Miyo sacrificed her life for Miri. in chapter sixty-nine, we learn that Miyo would rather die than be away from miri. she only stayed in the game so the pressure would be on herself, and she got the choice to ultimately sacrifice herself in her final game. so far, we’ve dealt with romantic love, but miyo and miri tie in the familial side. everyone has their own favorite pairings, and this arc is very flexible, but this was definitely buildup for mary’s feelings which were revealed later in the manga. i could write a book about how much i love this arc, but it would just be pages of me calling Mary hot, and every sentence would end in “because yumary is canon.”

episode five/six: this one was a bit trickier than the other ones. like Midari, Yumemi isn’t in love with Natari. though she highly respects her and has been a huge role model for her. she was going to give up in the gamble just because she was so enamored by her idol, but she pushed through at the final moments because Saori was counting on her. andherfanstooiguess. basically, Yumemi sacrificed confirming her inferiority and surrendering to Natari so she could win for Saori. double whammy hahah.

episode seven/eight: revisiting the greater good game arc was kind of interesting, because i never understood why Itsuki was stupid enough to make that sidebet until after i looked at it this way. Itsuki wanted to know if she should give up on kaede and pursue making her way back to the top alone or focus on him. from a success standpoint, she wouldn’t need a gamble to choose climbing her way to presidency, but her love for him was too strong. (wow the power of love amiright) what’s the point of being rich when you wake up alone? if kaede shows her that he can be like his old self, being president doesn’t matter.

episode nine/ten: should i have to explain the tower of doors arc? i am anyway, because i love it so much. i’m not going to go in as much detail because i would just be reiterating this post that explained it much better. kirari made a whole tower for sayaka (that took resources, money, brain power). sayaka sacrificed her life just to prove her love (her whole fucking life). oh and yumeko was there too.

episode eleven/twelve: i don’t know as much about rei’s arc just because it wasn’t in the manga, but her arc is definitely about self-love. we’ve seen romantic, addictive, and familial love, but i think rei’s arc is important because she finally let go of her chains and became herself. in my opinion, the truest form of self-love is being unapologetically you, and she sacrificed so much to achieve that.

maybe this isn’t a theory. it might be more of a way to look at this season.

ALSO

i just realized that this theory is perfect for pride month. love is love <3

#kakegurui #yumary #anime #manga #kakegurui xx #kirasaya #theory #pride month

[imaginethathaikyuu]

tis the damn season

atsumu miya x fem reader 

the first fic in a series i like to call “Me Writing Whatever The Hell I Want” (a working title) hope u like it or dont idk im not ur boss!!!!!!!!!!

synopsis: Running away was easy when you were chasing hazy dreams of a big city that was destined to be yours, when your rear-view mirror showed nothing but your hole in the wall hometown. But now it’s all waiting tables and failing auditions. You were still running, but somehow, these winding roads always lead you back to Miya Atsumu - a man you’ve loved and left, until you return home for the holidays. 

tags: friends to lovers, exes to lovers, angst without a happy ending, established pre-relationship, friends with benefits, reader lives in Undisclosed Big City lmao who has celebrity dreams, atsumu is ur good ole southern boy (sort of), canon divergent, not edited, light nsfw, beginnings of sex but isn’t very detailed 

word count: 4220

song inspo  (tis the damn season by taylor swift)

-

i won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay… 

. . . 

The soundtrack of this early morning replayed in your head as you made a hazy drive to the neighborhood’s hardware store, cutting left onto the correct street and forcing the car’s back tire over the curb you couldn’t miss. 

The replay of events looping in your mind? A whirring, then a splashing, then your father’s booming voice shouting curse words at anyone who could hear them. Your name was laced in there somewhere with demands for you to get to the kitchen, and you couldn’t tumble down the stairs fast enough to see what in the hell was going on. 

It was your first day home for the holidays, and already it was a catastrophe. 

Somehow your dad had busted a pipe underneath the kitchen sink and a strong stream of water was spraying halfway across the room because of it - your feet landed in a shallow pool when you finally reached the first floor. You didn’t have time to think of any questions before the man at fault, who was on his knees with his head hidden under the sink relentlessly trying to turn the water off, sent you out the door with more shouts, telling you to go to Miya’s Hardware and buy… something. 

“A connector?” You were talking to yourself, thinking out loud as you finally parked, but it didn’t help you remember. All you could do was walk inside the store and hope someone knew what you needed. 

It’d been years since you had been in this shop, but it looked just the same as when you were following your dad through its isles. You didn’t even bother browsing now, though - you went straight to the back of the store to the counter, expecting to see a familiar, perhaps older, face eager to help you. 

That isn’t what you found. 

“Well, hey stranger.” 

That voice rang in your ears like you’d just heard it through a megaphone pointed directly at you. Something about it was so warm, but it left you with a shiver down your spine and goosebump ridden skin. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up, and you hadn’t even turned in the direction the words came from. 

But you didn’t have to look in order to know just who it was. “Atsumu.” 

“What in the hell are you doing back in town?” His voice rang with excited confusion; it carried the same inflection as anyone who’s happy to see you. Like nearly forgotten family members at a reunion before it all goes to hell, or the way the tone of your father’s voice changes when you tell him you’re doing well and mean it. People don’t speak that way often. 

He pulled you in for a hug and you gladly reciprocated, already forgetting that you were supposed to be in a hurry. 

“Home for the holidays. How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright,” he replied. “I’ve missed you.” 

His voice felt more like home than your four bedroom walls did, the charming drawl and depth in his words immediately reeling you in. It was familiar. You had spent a long time trying to forget about that familiarity; too long learning how to straighten out your words and lose any hint of the small town you came from. But Atsumu - he sounded like the epitome of this place. 

He didn’t give you time to reply, for one reason or another; instead he decided to push you back by your shoulders and get a good look at you. Up and down and up again, likely noticing every change you had made to your appearance in your time away. 

“Are you still wearing your pajamas, or is this a new… trend?” 

You looked down at yourself, “Shit,” and closed your jacket tight over the old graphic t-shirt you wore, but nothing could cover your pink polka-dotted pants. And you’d have been hit in the face with embarrassment if the image of your dad and the broken sink and a flooded kitchen didn’t smack you first. “Shit, no, um… I need something to fix a broken sink. Are you… do you work here now?” 

“I do - and you’re gonna need to be more specific.” 

“I don’t know, Atsumu,” you laughed, slowly realizing the bizarreness of what you were about to tell him. “I woke up to my dad shouting and water shooting out from under the sink, literally flooding the kitchen. He told me to get a part for the pipe… a connector, or a couple, or something - I don’t know.” 

“...A coupler?” 

“Yes!” 

“...He didn’t happen to tell you what size to get, did he?” 

The look on your face must have been a good enough answer for him, because he took off into a random aisle and left you wondering just how many sizes of couplers there could be. 

“This one will probably do the job,” he said as his path rounded the counter. “If it doesn’t, then, I can ignore the return policy for you. Just this once, though.” 

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu.” You made your payment and he slid your product over the counter as his elbows landed on it, leaning down to make himself comfortable. Like he thought he’d be there awhile. 

“How long are you gonna be in town?” 

“Two weeks. Why do you ask?” You knew why - you just wanted to hear him say it. 

“We should catch up.” 

He was grinning and shrugging and fidgeting with his fingers, just like he always did, and you would never turn down any offer he made you. 

“We should. I’ve got to get home, but are you free tonight?” 

“We close at six,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” 

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you said, meaning every word. You wondered if he knew that. 

“So will I,” he replied, and then you made your way out before you convinced yourself to stay. 

It’d been three years since you last spoke to Atsumu. In that time, you had done a lot that felt like nothing, living in a different city that felt worlds bigger than this town - that city was a place you had once convinced yourself was all yours. You had pulled off running away effortlessly. 

But it didn’t matter how much time goes by between your meetings with Atsumu. There was something there that you could never shake, the hold you had on each other was anchor tight. Ten years could pass and you would speak to each other like it had only been one day. You’d have world ending fights and one of you would always come crawling back, letting the other win as long as it meant things would go back to normal. 

You couldn’t describe it. You never tried, you didn’t need to. The unspoken acts between the two of you didn’t need to be explained. It was something akin to a best friend with all the benefits included and most of the strings attached - confusing and nerve wracking but still so comforting. 

Atsumu was the closest thing to home you had in this town, and somehow every road always leads back to him. With a few detours on your part, of course, because you just couldn’t stay away too long. Even moving across the country didn’t change that - not like you thought it would. 

You just barely missed the turn into your driveway, being so distracted by your thoughts. So much was rushing back, so much that shouldn’t be - it isn’t a big deal, it’s just Atsumu, but it felt grand, like this was some massive reunion. 

But it wasn’t. You were only here to celebrate Christmas with your family. You weren’t even planning on seeing Atsumu, let alone meeting up with him or rekindling any kind of flame that was once there. 

And it was such a rush that you couldn’t even question why he was working at his father’s store - or why he was even in this town at all. What happened to the dreams he was chasing? 

For what felt like the first time in your life, you had questions for him. But you’d have to wait all day to ask them. 

. . .

You were thankful to come home to a dry floor and a calmer father - he finally figured out how to turn the water off and decided to fix the pipe later. You knew he’d inevitably be paying someone more qualified to repair it, but your mind had no space for that problem. 

You were still trying to figure out how you’d meander the night with Atsumu by the time he was picking you up, and when the two of you arrived at his home you still hadn’t found your answer. 

Easing into this would be best, and once alcohol was introduced to the equation it would turn into a slippery slope. 

Nothing was hard with Atsumu. You knew that - that’s why you couldn’t figure out why you were having such a hard time talking to him. 

A lot had changed. Not between the two of you, not exactly. You were right back where you were three years ago: on his couch, sitting too close to him, laughing at something he had said that was only funny because he said it. 

But your lives had changed. Your worlds had changed. His mind had very obviously changed, and because of it all, you couldn’t keep pretending that the two of you were teenagers again. 

You had to bite the bullet and ask the question that was on your mind, completely knowing that he could throw a hard hitting question back at you.

It came out more effortlessly and lighthearted than you expected. “So… what happened to playing volleyball?”

Atsumu scoffed. “You still remember that pipe dream? Nothing happened, it was just childish.” 

You didn’t like his answer, so you pressed him. You worked up the courage to start this conversation, so you were going to get to the bottom of things. “You said you wanted to catch up - I know you, Atsumu. You get what you want and you wanted to play volleyball. You were going to be a pro, you were good.” 

“I know you know me,” he said, and the smirk on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I wanted to get drunk and chat, not start up a fucking therapy session.” 

You sat patient and waiting, eyes on him, refusing to go without the answer to your question. You were teasing, really, eyeing him up and grinning as you watched him struggle. The problem was: you didn’t expect the answer you’d get. 

“I - I had the chance.” There was a scratch in his throat that wasn’t caused by the whiskey he’d just swallowed. “I was being scouted and playing my ass off and there were talks of being on an Olympic team one day, but… shit happens, and that’s it.” 

“What shit, Atsumu? You didn’t just give up, did you? Were you scared or something?” 

You didn’t realize how close you were to him until his hand came down to rest on your knee, and both of you focused on that touch as his next thoughts became words. “Dad got sick. And ‘Samu had just opened the restaurant, and… there were bills to pay and the store to run. Even though I wasn’t his preference, Dad had no choice and left the legacy of Miya’s Hardware to me, so - that’s where I am.” 

“Oh. I… I had no idea - I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine. You were already long gone by then - don’t say sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you hugged him without thinking, but he hugged you back all the same. “I’m sorry, ‘Tsumu.” 

“It’s okay,” he told you, but you didn’t feel okay. You were sure he didn’t, either. “It’s not your fault.” 

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his face, and you hadn’t noticed the distance in his eyes until just then. As you looked at him, you realized it was only familiar to now. It wasn’t there years ago, when you got to look into those eyes every day. 

“I should’ve been there for you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, but his words were dangling on an edge. He didn’t quite mean them. “You were off in your own dream. I got through it.” 

You only nodded. You weren’t sure what else to say after that. 

As Atsumu sat back against the couch, he brought you with him, tucking you under his arm against his chest. His lips on your forehead made you close your eyes and for a second, it was like you were both nineteen again. You could’ve been, if time would only slow down or freeze or go back - what wouldn’t you give for that? 

“I’m done talking about me,” he mumbled. “I wanna hear about your life now.” 

You laughed, but quiet, “My life’s been fine.”

“Only fine?” 

“You don’t see me on the big screen, do you?” 

He laughed this time. “Not yet. One day, though. Have you gotten used to the city yet?” 

“Oh… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, but… it does feel like home now. It’s so different from living here.” 

“I bet.” 

“I try not to romanticize it, but - I don’t know. It feels good, even if it’s not what I thought it’d be. The lights are pretty bright. Blinding compared to here.” 

His response was a nod, and that was it. If he had any questions or comments, he held them back. 

A break in the silence came soon, though. “You know,” he said, quiet, with a small laugh that was humorless, “I’m not as good at getting what I want as you think I am.” 

“That’s not true,” you replied, and you were setting up an argument you weren’t ready to make. “You got me.” 

“Did I?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Silence lingered, and after too long you sat up and looked at him, and that got him to talk. 

“Nothing,” he insisted. He pulled you closer with two fingers holding your chin, and you didn’t resist. “Nothing, baby. Let’s just… just be quiet for a while.” 

There wasn’t time for you to say anything else. His lips were on yours the moment he got his last word out. And even though you expected him to kiss you, it still made you gasp. 

You couldn’t describe how much you missed kissing someone you wanted to, and Astumu’s kiss was like finding home. His lips were like candy, sweeter than sugar; his bite was a freezing shock that always pulled a giggle and a whisper of his name out of you. He knew how to kiss you, slow and deep with a hand on your jaw to keep you there, never leaving you wanting more because he gave everything you could ever need. 

It didn’t take long for his kisses to trail down your neck, or for his shirt to come off, or for your back to land on the couch. You had already reached euphoria just seeing him hovering over you, eyes soft and hair askew; you didn’t need anything but this. You’d never want anything but this. 

You did what you always did - trailed your hand down his torso, over his golden skin, stopping just after every freckle or scar or mark. This time, you were looking for something new. You didn’t find anything. You didn’t stop until your hand landed on his waist, and there, you squeezed - 

“Stop, you little shit,” and he laughed, right along with you. A real and genuine laugh - you hadn’t heard that song in a long time. “Why do you always do that?” 

Finally he moved down to press his chest against yours, his hips locking in place between your legs. A perfect combination. 

“Why do you always give me the chance?” You were still laughing, not able to get over the cute sight. Atsumu was always so ticklish there, right on his waist, and when you made that discovery you swore you’d never forget it. And he sure as hell wished you would have. “You’re so cute. I’ve missed that smile.” 

“I’ve missed you,” he replied. Somehow you just knew that he meant it. 

“Don’t. I’m here.” 

“You’re here,” he repeated. Like he was reassuring himself. 

You took the initiative to unbutton your shirt yourself, so that there was no way for him to think that you wanted this to stop there. It couldn’t, not when you had him this close. And his eyes followed the popping buttons like stalking prey. 

“And you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Fucking hell.” 

You cringed - you couldn’t help the feeling in your gut when he gave you those sweet words. You knew he meant them in some way; you knew Atsumu wouldn’t lie to you. He’s never told you anything just for the sake of it. But how many times, in the last three years, had someone done just that? Told you just what you wanted to hear so they could get inside you? It was vile the first time. The second, it made you ache. But now, you’re used to it. Nobody means what they say. You’re used to it. 

And Atsumu could snatch up any girl he wanted. A girl who’s used to blinding lights and expensive wine and lying - or a girl who would stay with him, who wouldn’t push his buttons, who would be effortless in her charm and wit and beauty. 

You couldn’t put yourself in either category. 

“You haven’t seen many, then.” 

“Why would I even need to when I’ve got you? You’re a fucking dream. All I ever think about.” 

You shook your head, not even noticing you were doing it. Atsumu wouldn’t have it. 

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Not when you know what you do to me. You’ve got my heart beating out of my chest, for fuck’s sake - it has been since you walked into the store.” 

You never knew him to be so open with his feelings, or maybe you had just gotten used to being lied to. You weren’t sure and you didn’t care - all you could think about was kissing him, so you pulled him in, and you were sure he would devour you. You’d have no problem with that. 

It was desperate when you said, “I need you.”

And reassuring when he replied, “I’m right here.” 

He wasn’t close enough. You didn’t think he ever could be. And it was right then, when you were swimming in desperation, that you realized you shouldn’t have been doing this. It would only make leaving even harder. Doing it the first time was hell, letting him watch you leave and be okay with it. You hated yourself for wishing he wasn’t. And you were drowning. 

You hated yourself for leaving. 

You hated yourself more for coming back. 

And you didn’t want to be there, all of a sudden, despite the ache in between your thighs and the addicting warmth he had you trapped in. You didn’t want to be there and you didn’t want to leave, either - you only wanted something easy, but you’d never have it. Not here, and not in the city, and not with Atsumu. 

You felt him freeze, felt things shift. You hadn’t even noticed the way your energy had completely dropped. 

“Something wrong?” He moved up to hold your face. He noticed the tears in your eyes before you did. 

It was hard to look at him but you held his gaze, and his touch hurt more than it healed but you yearned for it. The concern on his face was genuine, the gentle strokes of his thumb on your cheek weren’t forced, and it all was making your stomach turn. 

He cared for you - obviously he did - but not enough to ask you to stay. Not enough to find trouble in letting you leave him. So maybe you shouldn’t have a problem with it, either. 

“No,” you said through a sore throat and a locked jaw. “Sorry, just…” 

“We don’t have to do this,” he told you. “We can just talk - I want to talk. If it’s too much -” 

“It’s okay,” you said. You tried to mean it as much as, “I miss you, Atsumu. I want you - touch me, I miss you.” 

“I know,” and he was wiping the tears off of your cheeks as he kissed your lips, “I’ll take care of you, baby, just let me. Stop thinking so much. Let me take care of you like I always do, yeah? You want me to help you feel good?” 

You always had a problem with that - thinking too much. He never hesitated to call you out on it. You nodded your head, strong and fast, like you were trying to knock the thoughts right out of it. 

“Please, ‘Tsumu.” You were crying for him, pulling him closer. “Need you. Make it better, please.” 

“I’d do anything,” he said. “You gotta quit crying, baby. You’re acting like our first time again.” 

You laughed at that, wiping your own tears and knocking his hands away. “God, that was so embarrassing.” 

“It was cute.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“It was kinda hot, too.” 

“Atsumu!” 

It was his deep grin that made you relax again, and so did another blissful kiss that took your breath in a way that you enjoyed. 

“You can cry, baby,” he said, popping buttons on both of your pants, “as long as it’s because of how good I’m making you feel. That’s what you need, pretty girl. Let me show you how much I’ve been missing you - get these pants off, baby, let me see you.” 

He didn’t give you the chance to cry any more, at least not in an emotional sense. Your mind was stripped with your body, filled with nothing but him, no space between the two of you left for insecurities or questions. 

It wasn’t until he coaxed you into his bedroom that those things had the chance to creep back. 

Atsumu was out cold, cuddled into your chest and holding on tight to your waist, after smothering you in soft kisses and sweet sleepy words. You were comfortable there, warm and safe and content, but the pit in your stomach only grew. You watched him sleep, his mouth slightly open and eyes softly closed, and you wanted to reach down and kiss him but you resisted. 

It was late and you should be asleep but you couldn’t rest. You couldn’t stop loathing yourself long enough to close your eyes, and the more you thought, the harder it got to breathe. Your throat was sore again. Your eyes were watering again. And every word you wanted to say to Atsumu was tumbling out of your mouth and falling onto sleeping ears. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

He didn’t stir. It was still rumbling breaths and the whir of the air conditioner filling the silence. 

“Everyone else did. But you. Why… You of all people should know I’m just as worthless there as I am here - I’ll never make it - I’ve changed everything and still…” 

You sucked a hard breath into your lungs to stop a wracking sob, just barely holding it in. 

“I just ended up here again. With you. I’m so alone without you but I can’t - fuck.”

It didn’t even matter what you were trying to say anymore, because you had no clue. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stay with him regardless of his choice to let you go, but something in you made you run. Maybe it was worthless pride or a childish desire to be something more - you didn’t know. 

You didn’t belong in any industry you dreamed of working in. You weren’t born to be a star. You should know by now - should accept your failure and come back home for more than just one night. 

But you couldn’t. 

There was still a chance, wasn’t there? 

A chance to belong somewhere.

A chance to be led home.

A chance to make it. Would you die trying? 

You would leave in the morning. And you wouldn’t ask Atsumu to wait for you as he started getting ready for the day. And Atsumu wouldn’t ask you to ditch your own plotted destiny just to stay with him. 

But this would happen again. Every time you would swear it off and every time, you would travel roads that take you right back to this town, this bed, these arms. 

Running away would never get easier, but this is all it would ever be with him. He would never stop you leaving - and you would never ask him to.  

. . .

...so i’ll go back to LA

#i researched how to fix pipes for this #by research i mean i went to hope depot dot com and looked at Pipes #my friend actually busted his sink pipe the other day exactly like i wrote and our other friend (who works at lowes) said he needs a Coupler #in conclusion i dont know how sinks or pipes work. do not perceive me or my writing. #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #i forget what other tags i need to use lmao

[diaphobic]

Laito Short Story

Tags: Uh, it’s pretty canon Laito, so perverted stuff & non con, it’s fairly violent too.

Synopsis: Laito’s new bride is a cunning one. He can’t seem to break her as easily as he does the others. Laito feels cornered by how perceptive she is.

Might continue with this if people enjoy it~

How many days had it been? She didn’t know. All she knew was that easy day felt longer than the last. Her body could barely support its own weight anymore. She took a deep breath and exhaled as she slowly lowered herself into the bath. She thought back to her nightstand and painted a mental image of how many scratches where on it. It had to be more than a dozen by now.. That’s how many days it’s been since she was taken.

‘He does the same stuff over and over.. It’s like he doesn’t ever get sick of it. He’s nearly addicted to it.. but what does he gain?’ She thought as she tipped her head back in the water and closed her eyes. The bath water rose over her ears as the sounds of the world began to distort.

‘The way he acts doesn’t add up it’s like he’s..’ Her thought was interrupted by a dull pain on her throat. Her eyes snapped open to see a knife pressed against her throat. She gulped so deeply that the blade moved with her throat.

“What do you want..?” She quietly spoke to the ‘unknown’ assailant. A familiar chuckle escaped Laito’s lips as he toyed with her throat. She held her body up using the sides of the bath so she didn’t slip into the knife. It was her life or her body. She had no choice but to leave herself exposed.

“Bitch-Chan~ You left yourself wide open yet again. It’s almost like you’re begging me to assault you, hm?” He said and removed the knife from her throat. She quickly sat up and turned around to face him. Her arms crossed over her chest. Her lower area was covered by the bubbles she had put in the bath.

“What do you get out of this?” She snapped. A fiery spirit isn’t easily snuffed out. Not even when faced with death. She knew he was unable to go through with it, so she didn’t really have anything left to lose.

“What, you ask?” Laito pondered over the question as he folded his arms, blade still in hand. He stared at the girl waiting for her to answer for him. Laito knew she wasn’t an idiot like he previously thought. He needs to defend himself now more than ever.

“....” She kept quiet and stared him down. Her teeth grit as she looked at him. He chuckled and tossed the knife aside. The sound of the knife hitting the floor was muffled by a splash. Laito nearly pounced on the girl in the bath. She bit back her screams to not please him. She’s well aware that’s what he wants. Nothing pisses her off more than giving him what he wants. The satisfaction of pissing Laito off was bitter sweet. What did she get out of it? It wasn’t happiness, that’s for sure.

“What should I do with you? You were being the bitch you are and enticing every guy that saw you.” Laito said and got real close to her ear. He flicked his lukewarm tongue over her ear lobe.

“Don’t delude yourself. You know damn well I didn’t—!!” Her sentence was cut off by Laito’s hand grabbing her throat. She quite literally choked on her words. His hand only tightened with each cough she let out.

“One.. Two.. Three..” Laito slowly began to count. “How many seconds does it take for the brain to die again? Why don’t you tell me..” Laito laughed as he looked at her bright red face. As he held his hand right around her throat, he bit into her neck. The pressure from the blood circulation being cut off made her blood gush.

“Aah.. Mmmhh.. Haah..” Laito panted out as he sucked her sweet red blood. She started to see stars as her blood and air were both taken. “You really are an idiot..” Laito said and let go of her throat. Her world began to go black as she slipped under the baths water before she could take another breath.

“Ah-ah.. too bad, Bitch-Chan~” Laito glared down at the air bubbles coming up from the water. He continued to count to ten. ‘Four.. Five.. Six..’

“What’s this?” Laito questioned himself before he tugged the nearly lifeless body of the girl out of the tub. She didn’t have the strength to cough anymore.

“Heavy-hoh!” He said and picked the soaked girl up. “I’m not quite finished with her yet.. your unconsciousness means nothing to me.” Laito said and tossed the girl on the bed. He sat besides her and pondered over what he should do. He laid beside her and thought to himself.

‘When did it all begin?’ He thought before quickly replacing that thought with a perverted one.

“Ah, she’ll make a great expression if I leave her marks all over..” Laito said and sat up with a great smile on his face. Laito denied the painful heat that welled up in the pit of his stomach. This is guilt desguised as pleasure. The familiar word ‘pleasure’ was practically meaningless at this point.

“Haah.. you truly are wonderful.. but it’s a shame to not see your expressions.” He said as he took his mouth off of her collar bone. He ran his fingers through her long, silky hair. With a click of his tongue he got up, leaving the nearly lifeless body on the bed.

Laito left the room feeling conflicted. He’s never had a girl that was so outwardly defiant in such a way. ‘She is a perplexing one, that one..’ He let a chuckle slip past his lips as he went into his room. His happiness turned to anger in a second. He shoved everything off his desk in one big sweep.

‘Damnit!’ He thought as he panted out. His fists grabbed at his hair as he grit his teeth. He can’t tell just how much she’s able to read him. The very thought is terrifying. How the hell is he supposed to deal with someone like her?

[next chapter]

#TW #diabolik lovers #laito scenario #laito sakamaki

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #kitty pryde x illyana rasputin #aka my 'fuck you' to the russo bros #get ready for some big canon divergence #i am literally just doing whatever the fuck i want #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

[iamvegorott]

Could you do a little New Year’s Eve dapperstache kiss blurb thingie? I’m a sucker for little stories like that

Is this a month late? Yes. Am I writing it regardless because I adore this ship? YES ----------

“I will start from sixty if we keep this argument up,” Chase warned with a laugh as he stood in a little group with Marvin, Bing, and Google.

“Do that and we’re getting a divorce,” Marvin warned back.

“Marvin, no!” Chase exaggerated his wail and threw himself on top of Marvin.

“I mean, if you divorce, we could get married,” Bing said to Chase.

“Nope. I can only handle one idiot.” Google stated.

“Me and Chase together make at least one brain cell.”

“Are you sure?” Marvin’s comment got all four of them to laugh.

“The books are canon but not canon at the same time.” Mad, who was a little more than tipsy, was sitting on the floor with Phantom, Yandere, Bim, and JJ. “Like, there are parts of the book’s technical lore that fits into what the games are diving into.”

“Does FNAF World affect the plot any?” Yandere asked.

“We don’t talk about FNAF World,” Mad said with a flat voice.

“We’re back,” Mare said as he and Jackie came into the room.

“Thank God!” Phantom scrambled up to his feet. “I’m not babysitting your drunk boyfriend anymore.”

“Thank you~” Mare sang as Phantom walked away, looping his arm through Jackie’s and having him go as well. “For the fireworks.” He explained to Mad as he placed the thick headphones on Mad’s neck. “So, what’re we talking about?” Mare sat on the floor.

“FNAF World,” Bim answered.

“We don’t talk about FNAF World.” Mare’s voice matched Mad’s and that got all of them to laugh. JJ did a quick peek around the room and saw Wilford, he gave a smile and a little wave before turning back to the once again, rambling Mad.

“Are you going to kiss him at the ball drop?” Dark asked Wilford, who was still smiling and waving at JJ, despite him no longer looking.

“Huh?”

“Are you going to kiss JJ?”

“Well-I-uh-” Wilford covered his mouth with a closed hand and cleared his throat. “Why do you ask?”

“Even I can notice the way you give him puppy-dog eyes every time you’re in the same room.”

“I-um-I wouldn’t want to push anything.”

“If I can recall correctly, the reason that Anti and I are together is due to someone literally pushed us into a closet.”

“How could I not? You two were all fussy with love and it was getting annoy-” Wilford stopped himself when Dark just raised a brow at him. “This is different.”

“There’s a lot of closets in this house, Wil.”

“If you two are going into a closet, can I watch?” Anti asked with a giggle, coming in to only hear the last part of the conversation.

“It’s not going to be Wilford and I going in there.” Dark wrapped an arm around Anti’s hips and started walking away with him. “Let me tell you about what I’ve been-” Dark’s voice was drowned out by the others talking and the distance.

“Sixty! Fifty-nine!”

“Chase, no!” Marvin started trying to cover Chase’s mouth, the others watching and laughing as the two wrestled.

“Edward.” Even though it wasn’t his name said, Wilford found himself turning his head towards Host’s voice. He watched Host whisper something into Edward’s ear and Edward did a little gasp at what he was told. He chuckled a little and turned to Henrik, assumingly whispering the same thing to him and getting the same reaction. Wilford was curious about what they were discussing but was going to need to wait as the countdown lessened and the couples got closer to each other.

“Ten, nine, eight!” The others started to join in the yelling now.

“Seven, six!” Wilford watched Anti glitch behind JJ and grab him by the shoulders.

“Five!” Now there were hands on Wilford’s own shoulders.

“Four!” A strong shove sent both of them flying, making them catch each other to prevent from falling.

“Three!” JJ’s hands were on Wilford’s chest and Wilford’s ended up on his waist.

“Two!” JJ took a quick breath before closing his eyes and pulling Wilford down into a kiss.

“One-ah!” The final count turned into a cheer as the others grabbed their own new year’s kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” JJ softly giggled.

“Me too,” Wilford whispered, going into another kiss.

#anon #dapperstache #we love some fluff #also some danti assistance XD #trickshot #bingle #madmare #phantomhero

[amuhseen2003]

SANDERS SIDES KARAOKE: GOTHIC LITERATURE MUSICALS EDITION

Okay, so after four years of being in the Sanders Sides fandom, I’m going to attempt to write some headcanons. Here we go.

Since it’s well-known in fanon that the sides do have karaoke sessions, imagine what would happen if they sang musicals based on gothic literature.

Roman’s happy because broadway, duh, Logan is happy because it’s canon that he enjoys gothic literature since he dressed up as Frankenstein’s monster for Halloween, same reason for Virgil and Patton’s happy that his family is bonding. He made extra cookies for the occasion. He’s dangerous like that. 

(I headcanon that when Thomas had to write analyses of gothic literature novels for school, Virgil, Roman and Logan would work together to come up with stuff and write the best essays in class and Patton would be so proud of them)

I’m not going to count Les Mis because I’m not too sure if that counts as gothic literature and whilst the Hunchback of Notre Dame is indeed gothic (trust me I read that in a plane once. An entire, like, ten pages is dedicated to describing the scenery) I don’t think it became a broadway show.

Now this isn’t like their usual karaoke nights, no sir. Just idly remaining in the living room won’t do. Where is the gusto? The pizazz? The accolade winning extravaganza? The-

“We get it Princey, can you just get on with it?” - Virgil

No, this type of singing can only be accompanied with an atmosphere that will do it justice. To the imagination they go and with Logan’s (who has practically memorised every single one of these books and is not geeking out at all) input on how the novels describe each setting, Roman creates very intricate landscapes for each song.

When they sing ‘Alive’ from ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ Roman thought that it would be really cool for Patton to play Mr Edward Hyde since Hyde is literally the human id and Patton, being the embodiment of morality, is literally the superego (although to be fair, Patton is also shown to be quite childish and impulsive since he’s also the base of Thomas’ emotions and Hyde is impulsive because he’s a way for Jekyll to act on his own emotions - especially since the only crime that Hyde does in the book are him over-reacting with his anger by beating a man to death. And in the novella, Jekyll writes that he and Hyde are like father and son and that Hyde is actually younger than Jekyll is, he does have that sense of childishness that Patton has only instead of that childishness being good and helpful, it’s bad and hurtful. Plus in the soundtrack of Alive, whilst Anthony Warlow does sing about how good being evil feels like, he also sounds like he is crying tears of joy of being able to be himself, the first words post-transformation being freedom and anyways these are supposed to be fun headcanons not analytical headcanons so I digress…)

Anyways Patton is happy to play the villain because “look kiddos, Roman conjured up this really swell cape” “the correct term is cloak” “and check out this top hat and cane!” and he’s just belting out the words and froliking around Victorian London without a care in the world, making his cape swoosh in the wind.

“Patton I would advise you not to take your shoes off. This is nineteenth-century London with people dying of cholera by the dozens, your feet could catch a myriad of infections.”

“Worry not, specs, the scenery is merely an illusion. I would never allow for our dear padre to succumb to the villain of illness”

“Aww, thanks kiddo (cue Patton’s sunshine smile) now where was I? IT’S THE FEELING OF BEING ALIVE! FILLED WITH EVIL AND TRULY ALIVE!”

They have Logan sing ‘I Need To Know’ because a doctor of science singing about wanting to expand his knowledge and having that thirst to do whatever it takes to get said knowledge. That is a Logan Sanders song right there. At first he’s like “why do I have to sing. I was happy enough giving directions and helping you with the scenery” but Roman creates this big scientific library that could rival the one from Beauty and the Beast/ laboratory from that’s practically the identical to Jekyll’s lab in the book and he’s like “Fine” like he isn’t enjoying himself. He is. They all know it. He’s not fooling anyone

Patton and Roman sing ‘Bring on the men’ together (yes, whilst wearing dresses) whilst Virgil and Logan drink apple juice from those big british beer glasses in the mind-scape created Red Rat (which Logan is quick to point out doesn’t exist and is vocally upset at how the musical adaptation added unnecessary romantic subplots with Lisa and Lucy when the book itself only had three background female characters who were only there for like one paragraph. He’s even more upset at the other inaccuracies with the book like how in the play Jekyll creates his formula as a cure for mental illness and Hyde was accidental whilst in the book he did it because he wanted to indulge in sin without fearing the consequences and Hyde, whilst not being exactly what he wanted, was actually created on purpose or how in the book Hyde only kills one man and in the musical he kills practically everyone except for the one person he did kill. Virgil pats him on the back with sympathy). Roman and Virgil are sniggering at the sexual euphemisms at the end of the song whilst Patton’s confused. She just seems really enthusiastic about food.

Roman sings both parts of ‘Confrontation’ by himself. He gets a standing ovation.

He also does ‘Transformation’. The problem is that he was so good at sounding like he was in complete agony and near death that they had to stop the song prematurely because Patton was getting upset. Don’t worry, Pat gets lots of cuddles by Roman afterwords.

(You know what I might do some sides reacting to The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde later because 1. It’s my favourite book and 2. All four of them would have very interesting takes on it)

From the Frankenstein musical Virgil plays the criminal from ‘Say Amen’ because he wants to (seriously, the guy’s first words in the song are ‘I curse the day that I was born into a world so black with hate’) and Logan plays Victor Frankenstein but Patton refuses for his son to even pretend to be executed by the noose so they have Roman play a man wearing a british executioner outfit with a foam sword and the creative side just bonks the anxious side on the neck with it. Logan despairs about the historical inaccuracy from his place in the stands whilst Patton is cheering next to him. Patton also hands him an extra jumper to keep him warm in the Switzerland cold. 

“Patton, I am grateful that you are thinking of my health but no one in eighteenth century Switzerland wore bright blue jumpers with cartoon kittens on them”

“Really, Logan, are you paw-sitive?”

“I would like to change places with Virgil. Immediately” 

Roman and Logan turn ‘Birth to my creation’ into a duet because Logan enjoys the scientific aspect of it and Roman can’t resist the drama (of course). He goes all out. He makes Victor’s lab perfect to the smallest detail (and cheers when Logan’s eyes start lighting up and he does that cute clappy thing when he’s excited), he conjures a storm and makes lightning strike at the best moments of the song. He even creates a ‘wretch’ (what Victor calls the monster in the book. I’ve heard that it’s name is Adam but all I remember from the novel is Victor calling himself god and the creature his Adam) to lie on the table. 

“And we didn’t even have to go grave-robbing for it. Or drop out of University.” - Roman

“No matter how many times I wanted to.” - Virgil

Roman and Virgil do most of the songs from Dracula. The creative side creates this huge, expensive-looking window-balcony thing with glass double doors and billowing silk curtains so that he could dramatically sing ‘the longer I live’ whilst the wind blows through his hair and he dramatically drapes himself on the balustrade so that the light from the full moon hits his figure just right. Patton’s close to crying.

Logan is very eager to give as many facts as he can about nineteenth-century mental institutions for ‘The Master’s Song’. He gets really into the history behind certain treatments and different cases. Roman plays Renfield and the others play doctors. 

Virgil is super into Dracula’s castle during ‘Life after life’. He and Roman duet that song wearing all-black. Logan tries to help Patton’s slight fear by telling him the history behind different pieces of architecture.

Patton plays Christine during Phantom of the Opera

Roman, Virgil and Logan sing ‘A story told’ from The Count of Monte Cristo around a circular table in a dimly lit tavern. Patton takes pictures and drinks hot chocolate in the sidelines.

#sanders sides #sanders sides headcanon #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #lamp #calm #lamp/calm

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Broken Mirror: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him." - Euripides

Thinking about going on a date with Spencer is way different than actually doing it. Gideon got you two the good seats even if it is a first come first serve. However, you made sure to arrive early enough to get a seat by the exit so you didn't have to waste time just sitting around while everyone else leaves. Gideon picked a good day as well since they were playing a two special horror movies, Psycho and The Shining. Spencer hadn’t seen either of them, but you have and you knew you would have a good time.

“Okay, I got literally every sweet thing they had,” you announced, climbing into the bed of your truck. Spencer didn’t have a car since he preferred to take public transportation to work. Sometimes you would be his ride if he asked for it, so it was natural that you two take your car. It was better anyway since you had a 4x4 off road truck with a comfortable bed if you laid down blankets and pillows, which you did. Spencer leaned on the back of the truck as you sat next to him, handing him the candy he requested.

“I didn’t know you liked sweet stuff.”

“Sweetheart, my whole life revolves around sugar,” you chuckled, pausing when you realize what you just said. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“For calling you sweetheart. It just came out,” you chuckled nervously.

“It’s okay. I like it,” he smiled.

“Great, okay,” you immediately felt better.

“So, what do we do here?”

“You’ve never been to a drive-in theater before?”

“Never.”

“Well, some people stay inside the car with the windows rolled down, but that’s only if they have a bench for a seat so they can sit really close to each other. I don’t have that so I chose the bed. We can sit anywhere we want,” you began to demonstrate by moving all around the trunk to show him before settling right… next… to… him, “even here.” You go to move, but he placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You can stay here if you want.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” you cleared your throat, trying to get the awkwardness out of the way. It was clear Spencer didn’t do this too often which was fine, but you wanted to move past the awkward phase.

“Aren’t these movies two hours long each?”

“Yeah, or more, which I don’t know why Gideon thought getting us tickets for this day was a smart idea. He knows I fall asleep during movies all the time.”

“How do you know Gideon?” he asked. Your intentions were to lean against the car, but you shifted too much and ended up against his side, which he didn’t seem to care. Opening the bag of candy you got, you popped one in your mouth and chewed.

“He was the lead agent on my case,” you finished once you swallowed.

“What do you mean?”

“My sister was murdered by her boss since he kept harassing her at work and she would always deny him. He was the one who helped me through losing her. I mean, she wasn’t my blood sister since my parents were fostering a bunch of kids, but she was my sister. The man killed himself before Gideon and his team could get to him, but at least we know he did it. He had the whole plan and more laid out at his apartment.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“You couldn’t have. It’s fine. The more I talk about it, the less it hurts. I was the one who led Gideon to his apartment since I saw the whole thing after it happened. After that, Gideon and I stayed in touch and would occasionally ask me for help on cases. It’s why he wanted me to join the BAU.”

“That must have been so difficult.”

“It was, but I’m glad I have it. I get to help a lot of people because of it,” you grinned. The first movie started playing, and you and Spencer got comfortable enough to sit through four and a half hours of both movies.

“Did you know due to how repressed Americans were in the 1950s, Psycho is actually the first American film to show a toilet on screen. Consequently, it’s the first American film in which we hear the toilet flush,” you informed him.

“I didn’t know that, no,” he chuckled. 

Halfway through the movie, Spencer began to feel your weight getting heavier as you gave up holding yourself up as to not crush him. He looked over at you to see your eyes closed and your mouth parted. He didn’t want to move for fear of waking you, but he couldn’t help but give a smile at your state.

Walking into work the next day, you couldn’t help but recall the events of yours and Spencer’s date. You did fall asleep halfway in the first movie, and you didn't know why he didn’t wake you since it was supposed to be a date. Nonetheless, when it was all over, you two got some ice cream which was way better. Gideon did a good job sparking up the flame between you and Spencer, but it was now up to you two to keep it lit.

“You fell asleep?” JJ laughed as you, her, and Penelope walked down the hallway to the bullpen. 

Of course, you told your two best friends what happened on the date. You three were getting closer which is why you thought it would be good to engage in some healthy gossip.

“Yes, I did. I always do. But Spencer and I went out for ice cream afterwards which was way better,” you chuckled.

“Did he kiss you?” Penelope asked with a grin.

“No, he didn’t. Well, not on the lips. He did kiss me on my cheek, but it’s a first date and I don’t even know if it’ll happen again. I mean, he hasn’t really talked about it. We haven’t had time to really talk about what this might mean. I can tell he’s nervous and tense which can either mean he’s trying to find a reason to let me down gently, or he likes me but won’t do anything about it,” you explained as you walked into the bullpen.

Spencer was on the other end of it talking with Derek, and when you two made eye contact, you gave him a small wave. He stiffly waved back, and you looked away with a sigh.

“His emotional state is all over the place, but I don’t know what it means,” you shrugged.

“Reid, Morgan, Y/L/N,” Hotch announced when he and Elle exited his office, “document's up on the screen regarding the kidnapping of Trish Davenport.”

“That’s my cue,” Penelope left the group.

“Keep me updated,” JJ whispered.

“Have you read them yet?” Spencer asked as you three walked up the stairs to follow the duo.

“Yeah, I got a copy from the document examiner.”

“What does it say?” you wondered.

“That we've got until 8:00 tonight,” he sighed, closing the door once everyone was inside the briefing room. The note that was left for Evan Davenport, the father of the kidnapped girl, was up on the screen.

“You will follow instructions carefully. You will do this to ensure the safety of your daughter. You will wait for the call. You will answer the call at 8:00 P.M. You will write down the instructions and follow them to the letter,” Spencer read it word for word.

“That gives us less than 9 hours to get to Connecticut, work up victimology on Trish Davenport, and prepare her father for the ransom drop.”

“How do we know the letter is real?” you asked.

“The handwriting is a match for Trish's,” he explained as he showed it. “He dictated it to her, and they found saline on the paper.”

“Her tears,” Gideon muttered.

“He never says ‘I’. He doesn't say, ‘I will call’. He says, ‘you will answer the call’. He's distancing himself from the kidnapping. If he said ‘I’, he'd be taking responsibility for it,” Derek noted.

“There's also another missing element. No mention of the police.”

“Ransom notes almost always forbid police involvement,” Elle stated.

“So, is he expecting law enforcement to get involved?” you wondered.

“Well, if he's expecting us, let's not disappoint him,” Gideon smiled.

“Is everyone familiar with the father?” Hotch asked as he passed out the case files while the plane was in the air.

“Evan Davenport, U.S. Attorney, executive assistant southern district, New York, widower. He assigned U.S. Marshals three times in the past ten years due to death threats,” Spencer spit out the facts.

"Is the protective detail still current?” Derek inquired.

“Around the clock, but Trish declined protection when she turned eighteen.”

“But why kill the boyfriend?” you asked, crossing your legs in your seat.

“Well, if I'm gonna kidnap someone I know, I have to take out whoever's with them. It says here she's got a sister,” Derek stated.

“Cheryl.”

“Any problems? Were they close?”

“Yeah, they’re identical twins,” you showed everyone the picture of both sisters side by side. “Which makes me think was Trish the target or was Cheryl?”

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@averyhotchner @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @fan-girl-97 @paulaern @inkstainedwritergirl @estrela-rogers @abitchforjay​ @kwbaby24 @redsalv20 @joonie-centric @havesaltwilltravel @spencerreid-mgg @sixpencespencee​

#broken mirror #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fluff #cm angst #season 1 episode 5 #s1e5

[botwstoriesandsuch]

DEAR FISH FUCKERS, YOU’RE WELCOME

I’ve done what no other has done before (to my knowledge) and found the aging system for the Zora! 

Ok so this started as simple research for this ask

See, I misread the phrasing of “best educated guess” to “research for 2 hours and come to a conclusive answer” so anyhow before I indulge you into the answers of the universe allow me to explain the research I’ve come across 

[TL;DR at the bottom]

So firstly, we have to look at our conclusive evidence, from which we’ll base our theory/headcanon on, which can mainly be found in the Creating a Champion book, and some dialogue in game. I’ve compiled them all in these bullets here

Zora children are around 20ish years old [as said by dialogue with Finley in her love letter sidequest, I don’t have a screenshot but please just take my word for it]

150ish is considered middle-aged for Zora

Muzu is around 4 centuries old 

Curved claws, weathered fins, and worn noses are signs of an older Zora that is more than 3 centuries(ish) old

Zora that were friends with Link must be around 150ish (not just 100), since you need to also account for the 20+ years of growing from a child stage, to the more normal sized form that you see them in the game, ergo, it’s that age plus the 100 years stasis that we determine the “middle age” of around 150

150 is the middle age, double that for the average old age of 300 years, but I say it could go to 400 too for additional reasons I’ll explain later with examples with my final age system. Anyhow, Muzu is around 400 if you take the 100 years for actually growing up from childhood, additional 100+ years of holding a different job as I doubt you just straight out hire a councilman without experience, and then another century for where he first started working in in the council, training Mipha, which would overlap with the period of the pre and post Great Calamity and Link’s return, meaning that’s 3 centuries plus 50ish years if we’re being generous with the overlap. This would help line up with the “for over a century” line as that doesn’t quite mean 2 centuries of working in the council, but Muzu is definitely getting up there to 4 centuries for his age alone

Now, I thought, this was gonna be my breakthrough, this screenshot here, depicting the traits of the older Zora. The elderly Zora are probably around 3 centuries old (since King Dorephan said they were young men around Mipha’s time, 150ish+100 gives us the range of 250-300), so I was like “Oh l can look at the size of their fins and noses and head/tail things and find a more efficient way to find their age” but nOPE. There is very little variation in that ballpark, the Zora either have exaggerated weathered noses or nice and shiny fins and no in between. The size of their head fins are roughly the same, with again, the only exaggerated differences being with the King and Sidon which doesn’t help at all because the Royal Zora already have a bunch of other difference such as their SIZE to name one.

I even went to the part about their curved toes, which initially would line up with some other Zora like Muzu

And let me tell you

I’ve looked at their toes

This is them from a child, a middle-aged, and an elderly. Color doesn’t matter and the curve? Well there’s

BARELY A DIFFERENCE 

At least not nearly enough to find an efficient way to find age. Even Muzu’s final model didn’t have the exaggerated curvature as seen in the book.

I looked at their tail tail fins, (not the tail on their head, but their actual small rounded tail fin by their butts) because the book also mentioned how the grown Zora have more pronounced tail fins compared to the kids, but it was the same for the 150s and the 300s sooo not that helpful

So I kept digging. In the book I found that King Dorephan was crowned around 100 years before the game started. In addition I reread the 10 Zora stone monuments and found that he had killed a Guardian with his bare hands and thrown it off a cliff, which he still had a scar from. 

[and yes I attempted to find his definitive age by seeing how long it takes for a scar to fade but I gave up cause Zora anatomy is too different to find a conclusive answer]

So I was like, “ok Dorephan had to have been around 150 when he came to the throne, then 50 years later the guardians are excavated giving way to the story about the guardian...” blah blah blahbla I even went to the supposed site where that guardian was, but it all didn’t really give me that much more info than what I already knew. I was researching ways to age the rock monuments from visuals alone which needless to say is pretty impossible, so I gave up on finding Dorephan’s age and I kept digging. 

All I wanted was something physical that could properly give way to identifying a Zora’s age was that too much to ask???

Now this is where I had all but given up, it seems that my only answer was this vague note about how their fins move up when they grow

Which, to be fair, held true when I looked at the in-game character models myself, but I can’t exactly pixel measure these things for each Zora.

But THAT’S where the revelation came. I was so focused on finding inconsistencies within the elderly Zora, when I should have been looking at the young baby ones. See, this pictures, literally right next to the page about elderly Zora that I was analyzing for ages, is the key to it all

Now, I was thinking about the rings on a tree, and certain species of banded fish that grow and discard different markings as they grow older, I even counted the neck rings on certain Zora to see if they did that thing where they add a ring for each birthday like some African and Asian cultures do (look it up, that stuff’s pretty interesting!) and that is where it struck me.

Count how many luminescent markings are on their head 

The males have 11, the females have 8  (on the one side, the other side has the same number of dots but for simplicity purposes I’m doing one side)

Now let’s count for these Zoras, who are middle aged-ish

The male has 10, the female has 7.

Now let’s look at the oldest Zora that we know of

3 dots above the eye, four on the tail. Muzu that motherfucker has 7 damn dots and I couldn’t be happier.

MY DUDES, GALS, AND PALS THIS IS IT, I’VE CHECKED AND DOUBLE CHECKED WITH NEARLY EVERY ZORA I COULD AND THE NUMBER OF LUMINESCENT MARKINGS ON THEIR HEAD CORRESPONDS WITH THE AMOUNT OF CENTURIES THEY’VE LIVED, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY      DOWN     TO     THE     DOT

First we have Muzu, who as I’ve preciously stated is around 4 centuries old. 11-4? Oh, it’s seven, and that’s the amount of markings he has? OOoo??

How about this Zora Lady who recognized Link from 100 years ago?

Seven dots? 8-7 is 1 so shes just over one century which lines up timeline wise. You can even see how the third dot is slowing shrinking on her head so she’s coming up on 2 centuries 

Ok how about the elders?

NINE. 11-9 is 2 centuries, with again, the dot by their head shrinking significantly showing how they’re getting up on 3 centuries.

The part I circled in green there is jewelry, not a marking, however this only goes further to prove my point. What better way to appear youthful than to have jewelry that makes it look like you have more markings than you have, made with luminous stone, no less.

This guy? Seggin? Super close to 4 centuries, those dots are fading away fast. Count your days old timer

Random dude that doesn’t recognize Link but is an new apprentice for sculpture making? 10 dots, a fresh 1 century pal, lookin young

I was a feral child running across the Domain screaming people’s ages in their face like a rude, naive, brat, I was elated to say the least. Especially since this system even works on the King himself

[plus one dot slightly behind the fin here...]

King Dorephan has 7 dots, he’s 400 years old. Which still lines up timeline wise, especially since he’s similar age with Muzu who he has stated is one of his most trusted advisors, beecaaaaaaaause of the years they’ve spent working together the timelines match uppppppp

This system works for almost all Zora, with 2 exceptions. Guards have helmets that cover their markings, so it’s impossible to tell. In addition, Prince Sidon, has sixteen lights on this hammerhead because he’s fancy like that (we already know he’s canonically 2ish centuries old anyhow from the DLC)

EDIT: I WAS WRONG THIS WORKS FOR SIDON TOO. The sixteen markings I was referring to was actually the amount of marking on each side of the head total, however if we look at the markings for only one side, like intended

Ten dots, Sidon’s over 100 years old. I’d say he’s closer to 150 given the timeline

Essentially, the most surefire way to find almost any Zora’s age is to identify a male or female Zora, count the number of lights on the side of their head/tail thing, then subtract from 11 if they’re a male, and from 8 for a female. The number left is how many centuries they’ve lived. You can check to see if their markings are shrinking and fading to get a sense if they’re coming up on the next century anytime soon. Comparing this with the oldest Zora we see in game, we can conclusively say that the Zora lifespan is around 3 to 4 centuries since no Zora has been seen with less than seven markings

Now go and make your Zora ocs with your appropriate number of lights. I’m gonna have a cookie

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #zora #zora botw #botw theory #botw headcanon #no fuck that this IS canon

[rosiegeee]

Background One Second Gays/Last Minute Gays in Disney Movies

Disney has a very long history of making queer coded characters, mostly villains, and despite there being several opportunities in the past two decades to make characters that have actual speaking lines LGBT, there are next to none. Here are, to my knowledge, the only confirmed LGBT characters/couples in Disney movies.

Lefou and his dance partner. 2017 Beauty and the Beast.

Lefou is in a good portion of the movie, and he clearly has something for Gaston, but when Gaston point blank asks Lefou why he isn’t with any girl, Lefou doesn’t have a gay panic moment where he tries to hide anything, or says he’s gay/bi. He gives a genuine answer that women just don’t like him, which implies that he truly wants to be with a woman. In the last five minutes of the movie Lefou is dancing with a woman and is smiling and having fun, than his partner leaves and is replaced with a man, and Lefou’s face turns to confusion and not a look of attraction, although the man seems interested in him. What I’m saying is that Disney said how proud they were of making Lefou gay, but had no true set up, had the character genuinely says they like women, than when he has his gay moment he looks uncomfortable, and not in a questioning-my-sexuality kind of way. Lefou is a last minute gay.

Officer Specter. Onward

This character is far better than Lefou, but still falls in the one second gay category. She’s not in a good portion of the movie, but she does have speaking lines, and one of them is she mentions her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s daughter. She is probably the best character on this list, and that is sad because she’s in less than ten minutes of the movie and although we don’t need to, it would have been nice to see said family, even just a picture would suffice. Still she is only one of three characters on this list who makes it specifically clear that they are LGBT, while the others had to be confirmed outside the film by the film makers.

Bucky and Pronk

They are introduced as Judy’s loud next door neighbors and were confirmed nine months after the films release that they were a married couple and not brothers, the actor for these two had to confirm it, and in four years Disney has not debunked it so its Canon, but could be debunked by disney if they feel like it. If they are a couple than that makes them the first LGBT couple in disney, and how were they portrayed, yelling and arguing at each other in every scene they are in except the nudist shot. They fall into the retroactively gay category, and In my eyes the disappointing category.

Bobby. Avengers: Endgame.

Do you know how long it took me to find the name of this character. Five minutes, when all it should take is typing in “Gay grieving man in Endgame” into Google, but he was such a small character that I had to go through 3 different MCU wikia pages to find his name. He is one of the three confirmed for sure onscreen LGBT characters. He’s talking to Steve Rogers five year after the snap in group therapy about his date with a male character, and how he misses his previous boyfriend. If Valkyrie never gets confirmed onscreen this is all the MCU has. I classify him a one minute gay. (Side note Bobby here is taking to the man that risked his life multiple times to save the life of Bucky just so they an stay platonically together without Bucky asking him too, where as Peggy, the woman Cap marries at the end of this movie, begged Steve to get off the ship and we know there were parachutes, not that he needs them, and that once he changed the course of the plane he probably could have jumped ship to be with her, but instead choose suicide[He also thought Bucky was dead at this point.] So read into that as much as you want and think about how much sense the final scene of Endgame made.)

Commander Larma D'Acy and Lieutenant Wrobie Tyce. Star Wars: the Rise of Skywalker.

Bet you also didn’t know the name of the woman D’Acy was kissing in this scene, did you? D’Acy was a minor character who was in all three sequel Star Wars movies and I honestly liked her even before I knew she was gay, but considering how much hype and teasing by ALL the actors that FinnPoe would become canon, this felt like a punch in the gut. In fact all they had to do was make the obviously gay Poe canonoticly gay but still single and I would have settled for that, but instead D’Acy, who was barely in the films and hadn’t mentioned her wife at all in 3 movies or are seen together before this point on screen, was the one to be confirmed on screen to be gay. These two fall under the last minute gays category. 

Lesbian couple in Finding Dory and Lesbian Moms in Toy Story 4.

If these two couple have names, I couldn’t find them. The first two should because I think one has a speaking role and therefore should be credited, but I couldn’t find it, if you know write a comment. The Finding Dory couple could literally just be friends and we would never know if Disney hadn’t been all like “Look at the gay characters we gave you, we’re so proud.” The mom’s in Toy Story 4 are more obviously a couple, especially in there second appearance in the end, but they are so far in the background that you could easily mistake the black mother for the Caucasian mom’s husband if Disney hadn’t again advertised these characters as there glorious representation. These two couple fall under the background/ confirmed off-screen one second gays category.

So in total, counting mentioned partners that never were on screen, the number of confirmed LGBT people in all of Disney is 15. After reading this I hope it becomes blaringly obvious why Disney needs more prominent LGBT representation. If this were done with racial representation Disney would not probably still be in business. Raya and Luca gives me hope, but only slightly, so if you want your Queer Disney fix, your going to have to stick to Tv, books, and shorts for now.

#Gay #Lesbian #Lesbians #Lesbian moms #Lesbian mothers #Gay moms #Gay mothers #Finding Dory #Toy Story 4 #Beauty and the Beast #Beauty and the beast 2017 #Star wars #the rise of skywalker #Onward #Zootopia #Avengers Endgame #Endgame #Lefou #Officer Specter #Bucky and Pronk #Bobby #Larma D'Acy and Wrobie Tyce #Commander D'Acy #D'Acy #Disney you cowards #Disney #luca

[theyhaveacavetroll]

I posted 1,380 times in 2021

62 posts created (4%)

1318 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 21.3 posts.

I added 375 tags in 2021

#james bond - 171 posts

#black sails - 38 posts

#tolkien - 38 posts

#october daye - 30 posts

#fic - 23 posts

#dishonored - 23 posts

#this - 18 posts

#yep - 15 posts

#love it - 11 posts

#alec trevelyan - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 119 characters

#and i would also like the world to get less shitty so that the students can stop experiencing the horrors of this world

Note: searching this tag will get you nowhere bc ... blue hellsite

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Skyfall summary: It's a lovely day at MI6 and you are a horrible Tiago.

22 notes • Posted 2021-10-14 02:31:47 GMT

#4

007 Fest 2021 Masterpost

I was going to try and squeak one more fic in under the wire, but realistically there is absolutely no way I'm going to finish something in under three days (I say desperately as I try to make progress on my next novel pleasedeargodsBondplotbunniesstopnibblingmycrops) so here is my 007 Fest masterpost for this year!

Fics (links in titles):

Property of a Lady - 1908 words. Licence to Kill Fix-it. It takes Bond perhaps ten minutes to realize that Felix and Della were inviting him to join them for their wedding night. It takes an attempted murder, a knife fight, and a kiss to prove to him that they were proposing a good deal more than a simple threesome.

Retrieving Agent Rodriguez or Mallory Makes His Move - 2079 words. Skyfall Fix-it. Gareth Mallory is a smart man - smart enough to realize that a hearing is bad, bad news for MI6 should it go through. Smart enough to recognize a golden opportunity to cut that hearing short when he sees it. The question is - can he convince Raoul Silva to cooperate?

To Sleep No More - 4665 words. Soulmate AU. James Bond has not slept properly since losing Alec at Archangel. If he were a little less sleep-deprived, he might realize that a severed soulmate link wouldn't keep him awake if Alec were dead.

From Russia with Brainwashing - 3264 words, 2388 of them written during Fest. Post-canon Fix-it for Goldeneye and Marvel crossover. In the process of looking for Bucky, Steve and Sam come across some old photos of an MI6 officer. As it turns out, 007 isn't just a character from a movie.

All in all, I posted four fanworks for a total of 11040 words and I participated in the Agent Day challenge. Maybe next year I'll be able to do a bit more but for this year I'm counting it as a victory.

Edit: @freddiechase reminded me that I have this post to add to my count as well! Thanks!

Gareth Mallory Headcanons

24 notes • Posted 2021-07-28 17:54:37 GMT

#3

Flintsredhair>>>>>>>>theyhaveacavetroll

29 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 00:56:08 GMT

#2

things I am never going to be over in regards to Simon Torquill:

He literally throws himself in Eira's path because he loves Patrick and he knows she's going to hurt him but he'd rather it be him than Patrick. He deals with 100+ years of complete loss of agency in every part of his life and never once gives up because August needs him to find her and to him that’s the end of the conversation. His daughter needs him and he’s not going to let her down and he doesn’t. And then his other daughter is in danger, so he yeets himself back into the path of the oncoming danger to warn her and gets elfshot in the process. On top of that he proceeds to get himself well and truly lost so that August can come home. And then he has the absolute stupid gall to say that he’s not a hero. Bullshit, Simon. Bullshit.

34 notes • Posted 2021-01-21 11:48:55 GMT

#1

Belated Mallory Headcanons

Mallory Headcanons for M Monday:

He's an only child who grew up as the oldest of a bunch of cousins

He's gay and got lucky enough to have parents who were both upper class and not worried about who he loved, although they do try to set him up with eligible men to this day.

Mallory didn't escape Ireland unscathed. He's got a bad back that plagues him, knees that ache on bad days, and a lingering hatred of raised voices as well as an impressive list of scars.

He's a massive art lover and would happily spend hours in every gallery he goes to.

He's a tennis player although he mostly only gets time for a quick, friendly match now and again, nothing competitive.

He's very much capable of taking down his own double-0s if needed, including Bond. Luckily, he's never needed to.

63 notes • Posted 2021-07-17 22:19:08 GMT

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