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dracowars · 7 months

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your friendly neighborhood nurse | peter parker

pairing: mcu!peter x gwen!reader

word count: 2,2k

summary: where peter is badly injured and y/n helps him

a/n: my first peter parker os, ahhh!!! i'm so excited and can't wait to see what you think of it 🫶🏻 please be kind and enjoy~

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of (severe) injuries

universe: marvel

Your gaze lazily flies over the first few lines of the page, the words logically connecting in your head to form a coherent sentence. The book lies open on your lap, your knees pulled a bit closer to your body so it is easier for you to dive into your newest book. Whenever you read, you feel like you leave New York City behind, escaping into different worlds and other realms, fading out the real world around you.

Outside your room, you hear the quiet clinking of glass as a member of your family is apparently emptying the dishwasher. You can hear the deep tone of your father's voice but your mind is too busy with the words you are currently reading to concentrate on any of them.

You even block out the loud sirens from several passing fire trucks and police cars, subconsciously perceiving them, but not actually understanding them. What you do notice, however, is a loud but dull bang a few seconds later as something hits your window with so much force to startle you out of your dreamland but not enough to break the glass.

Suddenly, your whole body is tensed up, your pulse increasing vehemently when you look at your window and see nothing. The sirens continue to blare through the streets of New York, but the moment you think you see a shadow on the fire escape, you couldn't care less about them.

Quickly, you carelessly toss your book onto your blanket, reality now more important than the words in it, and you swing your legs over the edge of your bed in a haste before quickly stepping to the window.

Strong rays of sunshine hit your face and your eyes close out of reflex, but you reach for the window anyway and lift it up. You still haven't discovered the source of the bang, but something inside of you tells you that it is important, that you are needed.

And you were right because once you lean out of your window a tiny bit, you spot a figure on the right side of your window, sitting against the wall.

"Peter?", is all your vocal cords manage as a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you before his name even fully left your mouth, his senses striking, your eyes meeting.

If there is one thing in this already cruel world that you hate the most, it's seeing others suffer, especially if you know those people. Especially if you love those people. Deeply.

That is why your heart beats even more painfully now that you see the numerous wounds and the blood - so, so, so much blood - on his face and body, his hair disheveled from the mask. His suit is torn in a few places, the areas you sewed last week ripped open again.

"Oh my god", you curse under your breath and don't waste another second to climb out the window and onto the emergency staircase of your huge apartment building, crawling to his side.

As soon as you reach him, his pained face lights up for a second, shooting you his characteristic smile. But it doesn't fully reach his eyes as it normally does which worries you even more.

"Hey you", he whispers softly, his voice obviously strained as he tries to turn his body into your direction, failing as he whimpers in pain.

"What happened?", you immediately ask, concerned about his current state. You have seen him after a lot of fights, after good and bad battles, after winning one or losing one, but never did he look so weak and vulnerable to you. Peter always tries to seem strong in front of you, he wants to be twice as strong for the both of you, but in this moment, right now, it just breaks your heart.

"Oh, you know. Just the usual", he replies, shrugging before realizing that every little movement hurts. "A bad guy striving for world domination. Nothing new, really."

"Peter, this is no joke", you scold him, startled about the fact that he can still make jokes looking like this. "We need to get you to the hospital immediately."

Stumbling to get up, you are immediately stopped by his scraped up hand that wraps around your forearm, his grip tight to keep you from leaving.

"Relax, cupcake. I just needed to see you, that's all", he tells you, but you don't buy it, especially not when every breath he takes causes him unimaginable pain. "Just gonna rest for a bit and then I will feel much better."

"Peter! I'm warning you, keep your damn eyes open", you immediately shake him as he only whispers his last words quietly and his head slowly lowers. You quickly grab his face and force him to look at you and sure enough, his disoriented pupils find yours. A small smile creeps onto his lips as he takes in another shaky breath.

"You have to listen carefully now, okay? We have to get you inside. I'm going to lift you up, but I can't do it alone. You have to help me with this with the last bit of strength you can muster, alright? It will probably hurt, but I can't help you any other way, Peter", you gently speak to him, a certain urgency in your voice, and even though his senses seem to be quite foggy, he nods and immediately tries to get up with his arm against the wall of the building. Quickly, you support him and pull his arm over your shoulder so that most of his weight is now on you.

"Okay, okay. One step-" you start to explain, but Peter staggers forward dangerously before you quickly press your hand against his chest to steady him. "One step at a time. Just look at what I'm doing."

Together, you finally manage to get him to your open window, where the next obstacle is already waiting for you: how are you supposed to get him inside?

“Let me think about the best way to get you in there", you mumble, your head lost in thought as another police patrol drives past your apartment building. Before you can come up with a solution, however, Peter suddenly bends down and squeezes himself through the window in excruciating pain. That done, he almost falls over if you hadn't followed him, cursing, and prevented him from meeting your floor by grabbing his waist. With his help, you maneuver him to your bed, where he lies down groaning.

"I swear to God, when this is over, I will be the one to kill you", you say under your breath, eyeing his entire body, inspecting all the wounds that need medical care.

At the sight of him, dark thoughts suddenly rush through your mind and your eyes become watery, but you know that you have to be strong for him and you do not allow a tear to fall down. With a deep breath you get up and go to your adjoining bathroom, where you always keep a first aid kit under the sink. After all, this isn't the first time Peter has asked you for help; it's just never been this bad.

Before you can get to your bed again, there is a loud knock on your bedroom door all of a sudden and you stand still for a second, completely frozen in place. Your eyes wander to Peter, lying on your bed in his miserable state. A boy lying in your bed.

Spiderman lying in your bed.

"Y/N?" your father speaks from the other side of the door, turning the doorknob like he always does, not waiting for your answer.

"Stop, Dad! I'm changing!", you shout, running up and reaching the door just in time so you can lean against it and shut it close again.

"Oh, my bad. Listen, something happened and I have to go out again. That useless Spiderman guy- Whatever. I know we were supposed to cook your favorite meal today, but that has to wait until tomorrow, sweetheart", he now speaks to you through the door and your heart beats a beat faster the moment you put two and two together. "I just have one request for you: stay here, in your room. Don't go out today. Your mom is in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Yes, Dad. Don't worry, I have loads of homework", you reply, letting out a sigh of relief as soon as you hear his footsteps walking away from your door, quietly locking your door from the inside. But it's only when you hear the front door closing that you move again and rush to Peter's side, who, to your surprise, still has his eyes open, even if only slightly. Immediately, his hand blindly reaches for you.

"I'm here, I'm here now", you assure him quickly and squeeze his hand tightly, but let go again to open the first aid kit. However, when you see all of his wounds, you find it difficult to keep track of all of them and feel overwhelmed.

"Cut it open", he croaks quietly, making you look at him in surprise. "The suit."

Understanding him, you nod and quickly cut through the fabric so you can tend to his injuries better. However, you also see the numerous dark blue and purple spots that are spread all over his upper body and your head doesn't even realize that he is now lying in front of you shirtless.

"Are you checking me out right now?", Peter mentions with a mock undertone, immediately snapping you out of your thoughts and your cheeks take on a deep red blush.

"N-No! Of course not!"

"Ah, man. If I had known that, I would have done a few more pushups beforehand", he teases you and on the one hand you are relieved that he is no longer on the verge of passing out, but on the other hand this really isn't the time to make jokes.

"You are such an idiot", you giggle quietly and use a damp cloth to wipe away the blood that is spread all over his muscular upper body. Then you use an alcohol-free wipe, and gently dab his skin with it. He immediately groans in pain and wiggles around, but since you both know there is no other way, he grits his teeth and tries to make as few sounds as possible.

When you reach his face to clean the wounds there, you repeatedly catch yourself looking into his glittering eyes, which are fixed on your face. With every eye contact you feel warmer and you try to suppress the blush that wants to creep onto your cheeks again.

"I'm sorry that you won't get your favorite meal today", Peter finally says, a pained expression on his face as you dab at the deep cut on his nose. "Ouch! That stings!"

"Well, if you didn't always jump into hopeless fights, then we wouldn't even be in this situation", you roll your eyes at him, concentrating on being as careful as possible so that you do not cause him more pain.

"Others would have been hurt..", he murmurs under his breath and if it weren't so quiet in your room, you probably wouldn't have heard him at all, but his words make you pause as you look directly at him.

The serious look on his face warms your heart and with a smile you nod, showing him that you understand. That he just can't help but to help others because that is what he likes to do. That is what he is made for.

When he still doesn't break the intense eye contact after several seconds, you clear your throat and begin to apply a healing ointment on most of his wounds and then bandage them.

"Peter, you really have to go to the hospital and get checked. I'm not sure if you broke some bones", you plead and he nods in agreement, but reluctantly. Absentmindedly, you run your hand through his hair and then down his face, always careful to not touch any of his wounds.

"But you are the best nurse", Peter admits, making your heart beat faster again as he intertwines your hands on his bare chest. He places his other hand on your cheek and you nuzzle into it, never breaking eye contact. And when he puts his hand on your neck and pulls you closer and closer to his face, you feel like your heart stops completely. Only shortly before your lips touch do you break eye contact.

Peter kisses you with so much affection that you almost feel dizzy and you feel every part of your body that touches him.

With a hiss of pain, he is forced to break the kiss eventually, the pain now less but still present. Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, he looks at you with so much love in his eyes that you want to kiss him again immediately, but he stops you.

"Thank you", he says and you can literally feel his gratitude, which he emphasizes with a kiss on your knuckles. Smiling, you place a soft kiss on his cheek before connecting your lips once more.

"Everything for my superhero."

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prnanxiety · 6 months

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10/27/23

Heavy conversation with one of the more experienced nurses today.

I told her about what's been on my mind lately, with people some places (online and offline) saying "refusing to allow people to commit suicide is a violation of bodily autonomy, and if you call EMS on your friends you're a snitch," etc. Frustrating stance that I'd been trying to learn the source of, just so I can better address it when I meet people who feel that way about what we do for a living.

She started talking about how she felt the same way when she was a new nurse, but she's seen so many cases that you would never understand, truly, until you'd done this job for long enough. Years ago, she worked at an eating disorder clinic, the most fatal of all psych illnesses. She watched someone come in, what, daily? For three years. This was either total 24/7 inpatient or intensive outpatient, I can't remember. But the person had every resource they needed, and parents who were supporting them in and out of the hospital, and just... Didn't get better.

No matter what. Parents tried everything that this nurse could sum up in conversation, and the patient just wouldn't get better. Kept wasting away. Finally, at some point, the parents just gave up on treatment and said "Alright. You're not going to get better. If you want to die, we will support you in this."

It's tempting to believe the parents are just bad people, who didn't love their daughter enough, or fight hard enough. Or maybe the daughter was too stubborn to live, and love herself. But I've heard cases of family members refusing to allow their siblings or kids or whomever to die when they're on life support, and falling into deep, suicidal, alcoholic depression for years after watching their family member suffer and beg for death and refuse them that. I wonder if it's any solace to those parents that they finally allowed their daughter to die like she wanted to.

I don't know. It's hard for me to piece together what she's saying. I run this journal because I want to make better sense of why we make different decisions as nurses in this field, and it's been helpful for deconstructing the experienced-yet-jaded decisions of some of my coworkers who've had to, despite their best efforts, watch some patients actively choose to never commit to rehab for decades. "Is it a smarter use of resources to choose to give up on you and spend my time and energy and supplies on someone more likely to receive treatment?" But this? This is the next level up from that. "Would I allow you to straight up kill yourself, not just for something like terminal cancer, but for just... Chronic suicidality?"

And she talked more about some of the cases she'd seen. People who were never anything but tortured souls. Kids who, whether from horrible parents or a lack of resources or anything, really, never had a chance growing up. And when they grew up, could only hurt anyone, always, endlessly. The amount of nurses and doctors and other patients they'd concussed, and bit, and punched out, and that's just being present on the unit. What kind of damage had they done, people had they hurt, outside the hospital? Hearing that the patient finally died, whether from suicide, overdose, exposure, or as a victim of someone, was more of a release of a forever tortured soul.

I've seen tortured people, sure, and written about a few of them. But I haven't seen anyone like that come back, again and again, like they have. I don't know. All I know is I've yet to meet a patient who was presented to me as an involuntary admission for suicidal ideation who I agreed had an excellent reason to commit suicide, and whom we were only being a nuisance in interrupting the process for.

I've long since gotten used to the idea of being a nurse who has to confront doctor-assisted suicide as a part of palliative-care one day, that I might be asked to be a part of. But permitting a suicide? Fuck.

On that note, one other thing that happened tonight, though. At dinner things were pretty quiet because we had a low census. So, I talked with the patients about it and put on some music. It was "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!" By Abba, because one of the new Suicidal Ideation admits wanted to hear it. Just a personal favorite song. So, what the hell, I pulled it up on youtube.

Well, half an hour later, dinner is over and I'm at the nurse's station. One of my other patients, an older guy in for suicidal ideation, comes up to me, red in the face but laughing and asking for Haldol. Turns out Abba was a personal favorite of his and his now ex-boyfriend's. See, he's in here because his boyfriend broke up with him, and he's suicidal and doesn't know what to do. So hearing abba and seeing us have fun to one of his, their, favorite songs, was a trigger for him. I felt so bad about it, but he was laughing about it because he knew there was no fucking way we could have known!

He's so easy to like, I'm always rooting for him. How could I ever allow someone like him to hurt himself? Over a guy?? Nah, I'll be happy to play a role in abducting him from his life and helping him not hurt himself over that. But now I'm looking at all my patients and wondering if, where, and how I'll ever draw that line.

#dear diary #diary entry #nursing #psych #psychiatry #nurse #schizophrenia #suicide #cw: suicide #involuntary admission #psychosis #self harm #cw: self harm #suicidal #Abba #gimme! gimme! gimme!

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lemonhemlock · 1 year

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It is never said in the text that Alys pointed out every member of house Strong to Aemond and to be fair, I don't think he needs her to do it although, who knows, he could've used her to do just that on purpose. I'm sure there are other servants unrelated to them who could do it as well. We simply don't know anything about her relationship with her trueborn family, however all the insane stans have already decided that it must have been really, really bad since she's a bastard, with some suggesting that the Strongs were actively abusing her thus making Aemond the prince charming who came in and "saved" her from her evil bad family. Basically the damsel in distress trope, I guess? Sure, it's very possible they were on bad terms but why they insist it's canon when the source material doesn't confirm it either way? Obviously, they are doing this to whitewash the ship and make it less toxic. I personally find this angle - with her taking an active part in her family's massacre - quite distasteful and I admit I would probably not find her a good person if she does that in the show. I get that she may have been treated badly by the Strongs (the adult ones), but all of them? I doubt it. Some of the Strongs killed by Aemond were young boys (the illustration in The Rise Of The Dragon definitely shows a young boy about to be executed) who were presumably innocent, children Alys herself most likely nursed? Am I really supposed she hated them as well or that she didn't care at all about them being executed? Strong bastards were killed as well, so why am I supposed to believe she didn't care either about them? Surely she must have had some empathy for them since I find it hard to believe that she was discriminated against and abused by her family for her bastardy status yet the other Strong bastards weren't.

So I went to check my sources and, you're right, it's never spelled in the text that Alys pointed out her kin, so I must have misremembered that, because she is never described as particularly bothered by the swift and bloody end of her family either, even though she may even have nursed some of those children herself or at least performed some child care for them, like you mentioned. I don't know how we're supposed to feel about this, even if, say, the Strongs mistreated her, because the complete annihilation of their line is also very much disproportionate to their supposed crime. Also considering that they were innocent of the accusation Aemond pinned on them. Even if they were guilty, like you said, surely the children could not have been considered complicit? The more I think about it, the ickier it gets.

So, while, yes, Alys being actively involved in their downfall is yet to be decisively proven, the reason I'm inclined to give credence to this line of thought is the fact that it seems kind of unbelievable to fall in love with the man who killed your entire family, no matter how much of a wet-cat god-fearing women-respecting momma's boy he proves to be later? And even if you were on bad terms with said family. It's a very extreme thing. You can hardly notch this up to some Pride & Prejudice type of misunderstanding.

So, if we accept that Alys empathized with her brutally murdered relatives, we kind of have to exclude her catching feelings for him later? Or, if she does get to a point of emotion, it surely must be closer to a Stockholm Syndrome type of situation? Which is an entirely different can of worms, like the dynamic changes to Aemond being the abuser or the one in charge, if you prefer. Take into consideration that this entire relationship escalates very quickly. The Dance barely lasts three (?) years, Aemond and Alys know each for less than a year tops (did someone make a timeline for these events yet? I'm iffy on the actual dates). In any case, they're not engaged in some lifelong reconciliation, rehabilitation and therapy sessions here for their supposedly mutually-consensual relationship to become less dicey on Alys' side.

#ask #anon #anti alysmond #riverdragon

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harleiquina · 1 year

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I was thinking about doing this post just for kicks and giggles (knowingly that no-one would read it) but after seeing some people coming after @neil-gaiman for making a difference between "proper Spanish" and "Argentinean Spanish" I find myself now doing it out of spite.

So if you are bored and want to read some half-assed explanation of our language (with some History mixed in) please stick around. This is a looooong one.

But first:

People of the world: the only "proper" language that exists lives only in books about itself (like the ones we, foreigners, use to learn said language). I'm pretty sure that not even spaniards living in Spain use "proper Spanish".

I was taught "proper English" in school (namely "British BBC English" so... not "Every day English") and now I have to use "American English" as an Interpreter because I almost cause brain damage to a poor nurse after I said "a glass of water" instead of "a cup of water" when reffering to what was a baby drinking during the day. Literally, I could feel the nurse on the phone going like...

But let's not get distracted and jump on the real subject of this post, shall we?

We are rebels!

One of the things that annoyed me was a "we don't dialect-shame here" like... WHAT? Since when pointing at a difference for what it is (a difference) is shaming anyone? Shaming implies making feel anyone bad for something or making fun of them for whatever reason. Saying that there are regional terms that differ from it's original source is doing neither of those unless is done in a condescending manner and this wasn't the case.

Maybe it's just because I'm too old, everyone knows that life ends at 25 and I'm just a few weeks away from turning 31... or maybe Gustavo Cerati was right when he wrote "Buenos Aires looks so susceptible" in his song "La ciudad de la furia" (The city of the fury) back then in The Ancient Times of 1980-something.

We don't need to be cautious or offended about everything, humans are complex creatures and if you think that reclaiming the words "argie" (British slur for us during the Malvinas -Fauklands- conflict) and "sudaca" (again, a slur from Spain and other european countries to all south-american people) is a power move to show that we are no longer offended by them... then make up your mind! Either you don't care what people says or you do 🤷🏻‍♀️

Believe it or not sweeties, we DEFINETLY DO NOT speak "Proper Spanish" and that is perfectly fine because we no longer belong to them and one of the ways we prove it every day is by using our own language. Our Argentinean Spanish is not only a part of our culture but a slap on the face of our "Mother" and so is every single version of Spanish that exists across the world. We are not letting them believe that they have the Last WordTM in how we should speak!

It is also a bold move coming from some people that I'm about 70% certain that uses the so-called "Inclusive Language"* even though it hasn't been approved by The Royal Spanish Academy which would imply that not only that you are not speaking "proper Spanish" either, but you also respect the Academy's position and craves for their approval. *I have my own beef against the "Inclusive Language" but it's not the subject of this post.

For those that do not know, The Royal Spanish Academy are the ones that dictate our grammar, orthography and which words we can use or not. Reason why so many spanish-speaking people hates them and decided to ignore them.

Languages change over time, especially in far away lands where it can mix with others to create a new one. (My grandmother came from then-Poland-now-Belarus with her family in 1939 with many more slavic inmigrants -Russians and Ukranians mostly- and all lived together in a town in Paraguay. When a family member came to visit they couldn't understand a single thing said because the language they were using wasn't 100% Russian or Polish or Ukranian... it was something new and, apparently, very hard to understand).

All Latinoamerica performed changes to the Spanish Language. The most obvious one is changing "vosotros" for "ustedes" (the formal and plural version of "you") because no-one felt like saying "vosotros jugareís" (you will play) when "ustedes jugarán" (ídem) rolls a lot easier on the tongue.

Argentinean Spanish 🧉

As I jokingly said on the responses, we argentineans speak "Castillan" Spanish, Lunfardo and in Simpsons' quotes (latinamerican spanish dubbed because everybody knows that *that* is the funniest version), but actually, there are many more sub-dialects in our everyday life.

Lunfardo

This dialect was born in the Buenos Aires' port and was widely spread thanks to the Tango culture. At the very beggining it was considerated a sign of danger and depravity since it was used mostly in low-life neighbourhoods and brothels, just like the Tango. Eventually it became a fundamental part of our speech and we carry it with us everywhere we go.

I'd say it is divided in 4 groups:

Borrowed words: Most of them are from Italian, sometimes with a little touch-up to make it look more 🌟ours🌟. Examples: Laburo (original: Lavoro. Work), Gamba (Leg), Birra (Beer). I do not know if it counts or doesn't, it is still a fun fact tho: we use "Pollera" for "Skirt" but in Spanish "Polla" is a way to say "Penis" (so it makes sense that a pollera is the piece of cloth that you'll use to cover it) for us it is quite an innocent word... but if you say it in Spain they will look at you as the most foul-mouthed creature on this Earth.

Remix: sometimes we change the order of syllables or letters in a word probably started as a way to hide some "embarrasing" or "shameful" words. Examples: Ñoba (Baño- Bathroom), Zolcillonca (Calzoncillo- Underwear), Chabomba (Bombacha- female panties... but beware! Bombacha is also the name of the traditional trouser used by gauchos. No I do not know why they are named the same). Still mixing up can be used for anything else like: Yeca (Calle. Street. With a Y replacing LL for pronunciation purposes), Bepis (Pibes, slang for Kids). Even verbs can suffer this, the one we use the most is Garpar (Pagar. To pay/ Pays off).

Changing meaning: It’s actually a phenomenon that happens in all languages (a word means one thing in a country and quite the opposite in the next one) but some examples in Argentina might be: Gato (Cat) we use it not just for the animal, but also for... let’s say “easy girls” and -before someone tries to rip off my throat- it is also used in men (it means when a guy thinks he’s better than anyone else even though he isnt’t). Chorro/a (Water stream, like the one from the faucet or a hose) it also means “thief”. Careta (full-face mask. It means someone that is fake, like wearing a mask). A very curious case is the word Batidor (hand mixer, like the one to beat eggs), it was used for "snitch" and later evolved into Ortiva that means, pretty much, "party pooper".

Made up words: maybe they aren't 100% made up but at least their origin isn't that clear. Like Engrupir (verb, means "to lie/fool/trick someone). Malevo (it's an attitude, the typical macho man from the tango world). Pituco (it actually comes from "Pitucón" that is the name of the patches used to cover the tear and wear on clothing -mostly knees and elbows-. But as an adjective it reffers to someone that takes lots of care about their appearance). Cheto (is the way we call posh people or snobs). Trucho (fake).

Criollo

This word was used to call the children of spanish families born in Argentina (in times of the Colony). The "lower" class of criollos, those that live in the rural areas are the very well known Gauchos (always seen as less than other citizens because many of them also had native american blood and they work on the fields so... for the well-mannered and european-centric Bonaerenses -residents of Buenos Aires' city- they were pretty much salvages). The Gauchos have a culture of their own mixing spanish and native tradition and this can be seen through their music (chamamé, gato, pericón, malambo, etc.), their cooking and, of course their language. For example:

Descuajeringar: I once saw a joke on Facebook saying that nobody in Latinoamerica has the joy we have thanks to this word. It could be an adjective or a verb and it's applied when something is completly busted, torn to pieces, broken BUT with a small possibility of beeing fixed. It can also be used when reffering to a human when having a really bad day and it shows or is laughing their ass off.

Sotreta: (For a human) lazy or coward. (In a horse) useless, old or misbehaved.

Changüí: a small chance (to get something done or winning anything)

Julepe: Beeing afraid.

Villero

Quick and poorly explained History lesson here.

During all this turbulent times, the education was eroded as well... because well taught kids will become smart adults that vote. And small things like being the Best Student of the Class is not something kids activately aim to, not to mention that since the Goverment gives away money to "help" those in need... the idea of studying a career or having a good job is absolutely pointless. In this year 2023 there are families that go for the 4th or 5th generation of I-never-had-a-job-in-my-life and they don't see it as something that should change. And this people vote to those that support their lifestyle: the peronistas.

The 1930s were called "The Infamous Decade" because even if our country had a blooming Economy (there are clippings of UK's newspapers saying that "Argentina needs to be stopped" because we were becoming too powerful) and Education (by this year illiteracy was eliminated) our Politics were... dubious. Fraud was an every-day thing and people really didn't get to vote for those they truly wanted. Because of this many Military Cups took place and in one of the final ones, the figure of General Juan Domingo Perón became relevant. He took care of the Social Development Ministry and this gave him the opportunitty of getting to know the huge breach between rich and poor and started to steal other's ideas to improve the working class' life. That's why he won when he run for President.

Even though I do not like Perón (neither Evita, you shouldn't be fooled by Webber's musical) I do admit that he did some good things for the country like building hospitals, schools, roads... but he also spent all the money Argentina had at the time (and possibly robbed some more. Evita´s haute couture outfits and biggest jewelry collection in Latinoamerica couldn't be bought off a President's income at the time). Our Economy started to collapse, many factories closed (would you believe that there was a time were we fabricated planes and trains?) taxes went higher and many ended up living in Villas Miserias (Misery Villas).

Time passed, Peron left after 2 terms, the opposition won (not for long, tho. In here the tradition of not letting non-peronistas goverments end their period began) there were terrorist attacks, another peronista wins and brings Perón back. By 1976, Perón died, his 3rd wife Isabel (who run for vice-president with him) is now President and is removed from Office by the bloodiest Military Coup we ever had (I really don't like when people is like "USA is guilty for everything that happened to us"... buuuuuutttt at this point in time there were many military coups all across Latinamerica and this was part of the Condor Plan... by the USA. Google it). During the Dictatorship many other factories closed, people's was living with rations -you could buy some products with a limit and sometimes on a special day of the week- so our Economy that was in pretty bad shape was getting even worse. 1983, Democracy returns, Peron's opposition wins again (didn't finished it's term) and then come one peronista goverment after another one, each one of them even worse than the last one. Our Economy is already knocking on Lucifer's boudoir by now since it's waaaaay underground.

You can imagine that after 40+ years of living in the worst conditions, with a miserable lifestyle that they embrace because no-one told them that they could live better or that they should aim higher, without education or any kind of positive stimulus... a new class was born and with it, a new language.

Most of the Villero Language is an expansion of Lunfardo (origins are quite similar) but it also includes lots of mispronunciations of words (out of sheer ignorance, not as a way to show irony or sarcasm as it could happen in our regular speech). Whenever you come to Argentina, you'll hear over and over again from us natives to stay away (or just run) whenever someone comes to you saying "Eeeh, ameo/amea" (Original: Amigo. Friend) because many robbers use this phrase as a way of fooling you into getting closer to steal either your cellphone or purse or whatever you have in your hand.

Be mindful, though, that BY NO MEANS I say that all villeros are thieves, but a big chunk of them are and is better to be safe than sorry. I am fully aware that some people are poor and have no other way of getting a house unless its in a villa, but they are always trying to improve their situation regardless of how hard their lifes are... is the other kind of villero, the one that spends most of their day sitting in their doorstep drinking beer, wine or fernet the one that you cannot trust.

Some examples of villero words could be:

Wachín: Original is Guacho, a Lunfardo word that means Guy. By saying "wachín" is not just a guy, but a little/slim one (sometimes a kid)

Yuta: Police

Escabio: Alcoholic drinks.

Alto/alta: Originally it means "High" (about height, not drugs) and it is still used as such but it is also a way to say "very" or "cool". Example: Altas llantas (high tires) means "cool snickers". Alta piña (high pinecone. We use Piña -pinecone- as a sinonym for Punch or Hit. So it would be a very hard punch).

But wait! There's more!

We also have some oddities in the way we speak that were born out of trying to find an easier way of saying some words.

Everybody knows that we (mostly in Buenos Aires and other metropolitan cities like Rosario and maybe Mendoza. I think Uruguay does it too) change the LL and Y sounds for SH. So we don't say Lluvia (Rain) like other countries that might pronunciate it as "ioovia" or "lioovia", we say "shoovia".

But there's another little thing that some of us do and I didn't noticed until my Russian teacher brought it up: the conjuction of SC in a word is pronunciated as the Spanish J (H in House, for the English speakers) so words like Mosca (Fly, the insect), Asco (Gross) and Pascuas (Easter) will be pronunciated: Mojca, Ajco, Pajcuas (Mohka, Ahko, Pahkooas).

Aside from our dialects (bear in mind that I'm from Buenos Aires, I know next to nothing from dialects in other provinces) we have more borrowed words from the black community as well (don't you dare to bring up the whole "Argentineans are racist because there is no black people in the National Team of any sports", because 1. You don't live here, so you don't know and 2. Skin colour isn't the most important thing to get anyone on a National Team)

Quilombo: Is a tricky word since we don't have a precise origin for it. When I was in school, we were told that it was the name given to brothels. But apparently is a word used to name the places were runaway slaves lived together and got raided by the slave-hunters from Brazil. Because of this possible scenario of chaos, today we use "quilombo" as a way to say "mess" and it can be chaged to "bolonqui" as well.

Macumba: This reffers to magic, usually with bad intent. Santeria and Umbanda religions are quite a thing here (tell me about it, I live half a block away from an Umbanda center) and some people do go to this places to "macumbear" (put a spell) on someone.

Yeah, I know... those are not good examples against the case of us not being racist.

The End

If you made it this far... wow... thank you!

Our language is complex and filled with influences of every single immigrant that came here since the land was found by the Conquistadores.

Trying to bring it down to categories was as hard as you can imagine, because many words began as one thing and evolved into another changing their classification in the meantime. And it goes without saying that I had a really hard time trying to indentify them as part of our speech and not something all latinos do. (For example: I would've never guessed that saying "hello" with a kiss on the cheek -even among men- was not a popular custom across Latinoamerica. It's just ours... go figure!).

There was also the little issue of you needing to have some kind of argentinean cultural baggage to understand half of the references I wanted to do... I am pretty sure I failed to do so... but in any case, you can always ask!

I am not a historian or linguist (altough I do like to know the origins of words) thats why I just wrote what I know. Nothing is a hard fact.

I hope you liked it and made you curious about my country... aside from the politicians and their hard-core fans... it's quite an interesting place to live.

#this took too much bloody time to write #half on my PC and half on my phone because I'm a masochist #no I was actually working while doing it #has this revived my wish to add English subtitles to classic argentinean movies? perhaps #maybe someday

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Arab Character Joining Corrupt Superheroes, Police Parallels

Anonymous asked:

I’m writing a story with a Arabian diaspora main character. The story is about corrupt superheroes, and how they affect an oppressed superpowered minority. The main character is one of these superheroes, naively joining them in his teens believing he’s going to help people. Doesn’t help that his parents are having money trouble. Eventually he ends up fighting a superpowered crook, and gets a bystander killed.

1)I know portraying an Arabian character committing violence is a pretty touchy subject, even if accidental. Is there any way I can write this that makes it clear to the reader that the action itself is messed up without the unfortunate implication that Arabs are violent?

2)A large part of the story is the MC’s parents reaction. They are loving parents, however after this incident happens, they are confused and ashamed. While they still love him, they temporarily cut ties with him. Eventually they reconcile and start to be a family again. In my research (they are diaspora Saudi Arabians), Family is very important and tight-nit. Shame towards the family is to be avoided at all costs. However I’ve also read that disowning a family member rarely ever happens. Is there a way to write this kind of narrative with respect to this aspect of Arabian culture?

Let us begin with some terminology.

- If a person is from Saudi Arabia, they are Saudi Arabian, or more commonly, Saudi. This is their nationality.

- They may or may not be Arab. Arab is an ethnicity. Not all Saudis are Arab. Not all Arabs are Saudi.

- Arabic is a language. Lots of people across the world who are neither Saudi nor Arab speak Arabic.

- Arabian on its own is a word used to refer to a specific breed of horses.

If you are referring to humans, you want to either say "Saudi Arabian" (both words) or “Saudi” to indicate nationality, or "Arab" to indicate ethnicity. If you’re looking to describe your character’s culture, you probably want to call it Saudi culture. (While grammatically correct, talking about “Arab culture” doesn’t make much sense because Arabs are an incredibly diverse ethnic group and there is no such thing as a single monolithic Arab culture).

Now for the first question. In my mind, the issue is less about the character committing violence, and more about the premise of the story and how it mirrors real-life oppressive structures. You have an organized group of superheroes who think they are doing good by fighting “crooks” but in reality are enacting systemic oppression upon a marginalized group. This immediately brings to mind police violence, racial profiling, and the way that policing in North America is used as a tool of white supremacy while glorified in propaganda as a force for good. Essentially, you are telling a story about a character who joins an oppressive policing force, enacts violence upon a marginalized group as a result, and (I’m assuming) eventually realizes that they are not, in fact, the good guys. This is very close to being a “bigoted character learns not to be bigoted” story. I recommend re-examining your premise in light of the real-life parallels and asking yourself whether this is the story you want to tell.

The issue is compounded by the fact that your character is an Arab teen, who in real life is more likely to be the one facing racial profiling from the police. Taking this character and making him the oppressor in your story makes the already flawed premise even more problematic, especially if the characters in the oppressed group are white.

As for your second question, it seems believable to me that a teen’s parents might reject him if they learned that he committed a crime. However, when the family in question is Arab, you are suddenly feeding into harmful tropes about oppressive and violent Arab parents. You are asking if there is a way to write this respectfully. I believe that there is, but it requires a great deal of care, nuance, and cultural awareness. While it is possible to write a Saudi Arab character grappling with the consequences of violence and familial estrangement in a compelling way, the way your ask is phrased leads me to believe you are not equipped to do it justice.

- Mod Niki

Think about why Arab people committing violence is a touchy subject, and then think about the general propaganda narrative that came about from the act that made things so touchy.

It’s going to sound one hell of a lot like what you have here.

Military and police use buckets and buckets of propaganda to continue hooking in young, impressionable teens to commit state-sanctioned colonialism and oppression. That propaganda looks suspiciously like “we have health insurance, we will pay for your education, you just have to do what we tell you even if that means hurting or killing others, but it’s okay because you get to be the hero in the situation.”

Now, propaganda is a very powerful tool. I was taught, in my media classes, that controlling the message means shaping reality. The media is built as a propaganda machine, and when you start to see who owns what media properties you start to see some really disturbing patterns (Rubert Murdoch owns a lot of right-wing sources across America, the UK, and Australia, and he’s too rich to investigate his culpability in spinning terrible narratives found in right-wing publications. He owns the big names).

As Niki said, this situation mirrors police violence and police-sanctioned terrorism. And the very, very unfortunate implications of making the target of police violence be in that wheel. But I want you to look at the media situation that has made the plot happen.

Because even if you swapped out ethnicities, you’d still have a reckoning to do with the American culture that their primary social safety nets involve killing people.

I am not kidding.

Some of the most well-funded unions in the country are police unions. These people have pensions. They have health insurance. It’s damn near impossible to fire them. They get overtime very well mandated, and it’s a known thing among defence lawyers that arrests happen right before a cop’s shift will end so they get the overtime of filing the paperwork. They absolutely go into poor neighbourhoods and recruit based off people needing an escape, and them having the money to provide it.

A similar sentiment is true for the military, except they push for college education a bit more and don’t really have overtime, but they do have deployment bonuses. So the way to get extra pay for yourself is to go out and do colonialism outside the borders. The military doesn’t necessarily like it when the economy is doing well, and don’t like the idea of college being affordable, because they rely so heavily on poverty and fear of college debt to recruit.

The story you’re telling here goes so far beyond an individual’s actions and instead taps into America’s single biggest cultural investment: that oppressing others makes you a hero.

The Pentagon funds most military media out there as a propaganda tool, including most superhero movies and a large number of video games. This is in their budget. They will also go so far as to literally commission the games to exist. Part of getting that funding is you cannot critique America’s military, basically at all (the only exception I’ve seen is Ms Marvel, but that’s set in the 90s). This turns any sort of military-using media into a potential propaganda tool.

And the thing is? Even if you fall for that propaganda and were part of the military or the police, you still have to reckon with the fact you put whatever your own desires were above a huge track record of those groups being terrible. You still have to reckon with the fact you didn’t realize they were wrong, and were complicit in a lot of crimes.

This goes very far beyond “the action is terrible” and goes into “the system is rotten to its core, and you chose not to believe it, or to believe you could change what was built with blood.”

“Good” police officers get fired. If you try to question anything, if you try to say this action is wrong, you will absolutely get destroyed. Military’s much the same. You need some degree of buy-in to the concept of white supremacy to sign up for the military or the police, because you need to see their actions as not deal breakers instead of actions that violate multiple international laws.

In short: you need to see the people being oppressed as deserving of being oppressed to some degree in order to participate with police and the military.

Marginalized people can hold this belief, it happens. But that is a very sticky situation that outsiders shouldn’t touch.

It’s possible but difficult for you to write a white person having this sort of arc, but it would be extremely challenging to have it not come across as a white guilt story. To not have a socially aware audience roll their eyes at how long it took. You’d definitely not be writing a story with a diverse audience in mind, because you’d mostly appeal to those who saw the propaganda as just fine and not that bad.

This isn’t even getting into the oft-cited adage that boys who bully others become cops, while girls who bully become nurses. And the more police atrocities become mainstream news, the less and less people can convince themselves that becoming a police officer is a good thing.

Which brings me to the point of: how well-documented is this oppression? Is this character walking around in an oppressive situation like, say, pre-social-media where there was no direct access to the oppressed groups and you could close your eyes and look away even if it made national news? Or is this in a media connected world where these oppressed populations have a voice in the narrative?

The former has an angle of the character slowly realizing the horror and it’s slightly more forgivable for their early ignorance. But in any sort of world where there’s access to the people getting hurt? Things get more and more “ignorance is indistinguishable from maliciousness.” And keep in mind, these stories are read in the real world, where police brutality and war crimes go viral, and a lack of knowledge is getting harder and harder to defend as a position.

Media plays a huge role in shaping our perception of what’s happening. Cameras on a situation makes different activism tactics work, as we can see with how activism changed in the 60s and 70s as tv reached the masses. Social media has made it possible for you to look up firsthand accounts of discrimination within seconds.

This is a factor you are absolutely going to have to consider, when you want to look at how nice your hero is seen by marginalized or otherwise socially-aware people. If there is a way to find out how bad this superhero organization is before you sign a contract with them? Then that doesn’t look particularly good on the “hero”. You’d really have to establish them as super idealistic, super sheltered, super desperate, and/or just swallow the knowledge that they really don’t see anything that happens “over there to those people” as that bad.

All of the above is more than possible. And they’d still be seen as complicit no matter what justification you gave, because they are.

Does this mean all corrupt organization stories are off limits? No. The reason these stories have such deep cultural resonance right now is because of the propaganda I outlined above.

But you as the author are going to have to examine your own engagement with the propaganda narrative and do your own private reckoning so your own sense of guilt and compliance doesn’t bleed through the narrative too strongly, so you can tell a good story instead of an overt message story that’s you working out your own feelings.

By all means, write a story where police and the military are taken down, where propaganda is weaponized and the media is controlled (because that’s sure as hell the modern world).

But know that stories where the hero discovers the corruption already have a ticking clock because we, in the real world, are slowly being faced with a mountain of apathy instead of ignorance. The knowledge of oppression is out there so much that marginalized people are tired of the ignorance defence.

As the saying goes, “privilege is the ability to ignore the oppression of others.”

Propaganda, centralized media, and strategic cultural investment made it possible for police and the military to have a chokehold on their public perception. But that’s changing. The chokehold is starting to fade, people are starting to question their beliefs.

The past year has shown that knowledge isn’t the issue; it’s white supremacy. People don’t want to believe that any of this is that bad. People want to believe that oppression is justified, that if people just followed the law they’d be fine. They don’t want to question themselves. And marginalized people are tired of these narratives where, suddenly, people snap out of it. Because there was so much evidence to show it was bad, but it was only when you do one of the worst crimes imaginable that you realize this is bad? It’s only when it becomes personal that things are worth looking at critically?

No. And you need to examine where you are in processing your own complicity before writing a story where you’ve swapped around the ethnicities to try and distance yourself from the problem, where in the end you made the target the oppressor.

~Mod Lesya

#police brutality #oppression #arab #saudi arabia #military #superhero #superheroes #asks #violence #propaganda

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jessikahathaway · 3 years

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Ambrosia - Prologue

Park Jimin (Aphrodite) X Reader

Genre: GreekGod!AU, Genderbent Aphrodite!AU, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn and Smut (Future)

Warnings: Mentions of terminal illness, Jimin in a SUIT, Namjoon being a lil nosy, profanity (if I forgot anything please let me know!)

Words: 3.1k (YA GIRL PROCRASTINATED TOO LONG AND DIDN'T GET THE FULL CHAPTER DONE SO WE'RE DOING A PROLOGUE. K? K.)

Summary: Cast out of Olympus with the task to find his one true love, Aphrodite is certain his match will come to him. But as the years drag on, what happens when the God of Love, gives up?

Days in a flower shop in the middle of a decent sized town can pass by fast or slow. There can be days with what feels like hundreds of orders coming through the tiny store, and then there are the days where the employees just wind up looking at their phones the whole time and not one soul passes through the door.

But on special days, all it takes is one person to walk through those doors and everything changes.

This is a story of one of those days.

Tuesdays could seriously go fuck off for all you cared. This particular Tuesday was proving to be a test on every ounce of your patience and every single time you heard that door bell ring as the gates of hell opened, your shoulders sagged a little more. Something about their flowers wasn’t right. The blue wasn’t like the sky but like the sea and that’s an issue. The flowers look wilted. Always something.

But, like you did every day you turned to the customer and gave them a huge smile, ready to help them with whatever they needed. Even if it meant losing your sanity little by little.

The day passed this way, going on and the clock didn’t seem to be moving at your desired pace. So, you sat on the chair behind the desk at the front and gazed out the window.

It was a warmer spring day.

The trees were budding and life was returning after a long winter. You loved this time of the year. Everything becoming new again, alive and welcoming. But, it also means more work for you. It’s never been a problem, but this past year has been particularly hard.

Your younger sister passed away.

She’d been fighting a long illness, one with a poor prognosis. At a young age you and Sana were placed in the foster system, living with a decent enough upbringing. The foster parents were never mean or cruel, but they weren’t your parents. Whom you barely remembered now. So when you turned eighteen you asked if you could become her legal guardian. Your foster parents had agreed, wishing you and her the best of luck...

But luck had never been on you or your sister’s side.

Her illness started to rapidly progress, causing more and more doctor’s visits and more money being pulled from your measly savings. It wasn’t enough. You were having to take out loans and everything just to keep the lights on in your apartment.

Sana, however, kept her spirits high no matter the situation. She was the positive one. The bright one that everyone gravitated towards in school. She was your light. And now your life is duller. Your sister loved to go through the streets in her wheelchair, looking at the budding leaves and flowers that were growing on the trees.

“Look Y/N!” she’d squeak. “They’re so beautiful. I want to open a flower shop, and I’m going to sell the most beautiful flowers to people.”

As her birthday present you decided to open the flower shop.

It was her last one.

Looking out at the spring blooming in front of you it was hard to be happy, knowing how much your sweet Sana would’ve loved it. Life often wasn’t fair, but you hadn’t expected it to be so. You weren’t a bad person, but bad things had happened. But you were alive, and had a life to keep living.

As much as the flower shop was Sana’s dream, you couldn’t sell it when she died. It had become your safe haven. A little place to call your own. Even if it was Sana’s dream, you had made it real. Real enough for the both of you, and now you gotta keep it going. Even if the loan to open it made your wallet want to cry, it was enough. Plenty.

Because it was yours.

A single tear fell down your cheek as you thought of your beloved sister, and her cute cheeks and beautiful eyes that never held an ounce of fear or regret. A few petals fell from the blossoming tree outside in the wind and fell to the ground in a swirl of pastel hues that made you smile.

More tears moved down your cheeks and you wiped them away in frustration. She wouldn’t want you to be upset, she’d want you to be happy and to continue with your life. Keep going and make something of yourself.

Sana used to say that you were always Y/N the big sister and never just... Y/N. And you knew it was true. You were supposed to take care of her, but now that she’s gone... T-There was no one to care for but yourself.

You’d have to be enough.

Suddenly, the bell above your door ran proudly, making your teary eyes refocus on the person entering the store. Those tears were quickly replaced with a look of wonder.

A man walked through the door, head held high and his eyes scanned the area like he was inspecting it. Wiping your already sweaty palms on your apron you approached him with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to Sana’s flowers, how can I assist you?” you asked, coming towards him. The man took in your appearance and a calm expression steeled over his face.

“Hi, are you Sana?” he asked, referring to the name.

“No, Sana was my sister,” you said, swallowing hard. The man seemed to understand.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to impose,” he said, bowing lightly.

“You’re fine, no worries. How can I help you?” you asked, looking at his apparel.

He was dressed in a fine suit, tailored to his every inch, must’ve been expensive as hell. You could probably open a whole new section of your shop with the money he was dripping in.

You weren’t known for having an upper class clientele, not that the occasional businessman came in and asked for a bouquet of your finest flowers. Sometimes two... Shaking your head you focused on the man in front of you as best as you could. But, his features were so striking it was hard to keep your eyes from wander...

“Park Jimin,” he introduced, holding his hand out politely.

“Y/N,” you said, extending your own hand and taking his in yours. Shaking gently he gave a smile that could rival the very stars in the sky. This man was more breathtaking the longer you looked, making your palms start to sweat even more.

“A pleasure, Y/N,” he said. “I’m having an event to celebrate my family's company. It’s the 125 year of it’s business and we are looking to source from the local populace instead of corporations to provide a more intimate setting for the investors and other members of the company,” Jimin said, rambling off a lot of information for your sleep deprived brain.

“I see, so you’re looking for floral arrangements?” You asked, heading towards your book of options. Jimin followed you over, leaning towards you so close you could smell his cologne. A spicy scent that wasn’t overpowering but more... alluring? Inviting?

Shaking your head you pulled up your options of centerpieces and the like, showing him what styles you had available and Jimin paid close attention to each set. Asking questions about what flowers would look good in what vases and if they did better in foam or water.

“For events I prefer the foam personally. Less likelihood of someone knocking a vase over and water getting everywhere. But the flowers are more mobile in the water, so it’s about what you’re looking for in regards to the feel,” you said.

Jimin seemed to weigh his options for a moment. “I like the traditional styles you showed me. The simple little flowers decorating around the larger arrangements, it looks classy and provides the color I’m looking for,” he said, nodding.

Making a note you grabbed a notepad to start writing all the information down.

“So when is your event? A month, two?” You said, throwing out a few different times.

“Two weeks,” he said. You froze, swallowing hard.

“Ah, I see,” you said, biting your lip.

“Is that a problem?” He asked, looking up at your pained expression.

“It’s just, the flowers might take a minute to get here. And I arrange everything by hand, so it takes me a little longer. How many tables were you going to have and the garlands for the stairways as well?” You asked.

“Well as for tables I have 150 dinner tables, 50 cocktail tables and 8 large banquet tables. There are two main stairwells that wrap around to the main area so there will be about 400ft worth of garland necessary,” he calculated slowly.

“Okay,” you said, rubbing your temples slowly.

“How many people do you have on your payroll?” He asked, looking around and noticing the empty space.

“Just me. My friend Namjoon likes to come and help sometimes but he’s a full time nurse so,” you shrugged.

“Would you be able to do this in two weeks with just by yourself?” He asked, raising a brow.

“I can always try,” you said, giving a gentle smile.

“How much would it cost?” He asked.

“Depends on the flowers you want, you already picked the style so one second,” you said, grabbing your calculator and running the numbers really quick. “I can do expedited shipping on the flowers to get them here faster but then you run the risk of stems getting broken and not having enough. But I can order more to compensate but then that’s more money,” you said.

Finally you had a total and you frowned.

“It would be around $2,156 if we did the expedited shipping and ordered more flowers to compensate for the potential broken ones,” you said, biting your lip. That was a lot of money to spend on flowers for a simple dinner event. You knew it, but with everything he wanted and the time frame it was the best you could do... You didn’t even charge him for the probability of Namjoon helping. Because then it would jump up to the 3,000 dollar mark and you weren’t going to push your luck.

After a few moments, Jimin pulled out his checkbook and started writing the check out. Your eyes bulged when he pushed the piece of paper towards you, his pen clicking with a sense of finality.

“What kind of flowers should we get?” He said, a smile on his face. You looked down and almost flung the check right back at him.

$5,500

This man had just dropped over five thousand dollars without blinking.

“Th-This is too much,” you said, trying to push it back towards him.

“You charged me for base flowers, and it’s super short notice. Take the extra as a tip,” he smiled.

“I-I can’t accept over two thousand dollars as a tip. If I get audited I’ll be screwed,” you said.

“No you won’t, it’ll be fine. Please, take it,” he encouraged, placing the check back in front of you.

You swallowed thickly, trying to keep yourself from panicking. You did have a large loan payment coming up, and this would lessen that blow significantly...

But wasn’t it wrong?

“Alright...” you trailed off, taking the check and stamping it before putting it in your deposit bag.

“What type of flowers do you recommend using?” He asked, looking at you with a gentle gleam in his bright eyes.

“Peonies and hydrangeas are a great combo with complementary color palettes. I always love doing grass pieces as a nice natural moment but, baby's breath is a classic and more traditional if that’s what you’re looking for,” you said.

“Can we do the soft blue hydrangeas and white peonies?” He asked, looking at the sample photos you had.

“Yes, the white peonies would bring a nice fullness and the hydrangeas can add the color,” you explained.

“Perfect, let’s do that then,” he said, nodding.

“Okay! I’ll get the order to go in and get the expedited shipping and we should get them by the end of the week. They’ll go into the fridge and that should help keep them fresh,” you said.

“Here.”

You turned around to see a small card placed on the table in front of you.

“What’s this?” You asked, lifting the small thing to your eyes.

“My number,” he said, grinning. “Message me when the flowers come in.”

“O-Okay, absolutely!”

Jimin smiled then, a bright dazzle expression that had your mouth drying in longing.

“I look forward to hearing from you, Y/N,” he said.

“I look forward to it as well, Mr. Park,” you said politely. Jimin tutted and shook his head.

“No, Jimin will do just fine. Have a great day Y/N,” he waved, turning on his heel and heading out the door.

You looked at the numbers and sighed.

God you were so fucked.

—

“So, let me get this straight,” Namjoon said over the phone. “Hot guy in a suit comes in and orders a fuck ton of flowers you know you can’t do yourself and you agree because he dropped an extra few grand in the check? Y/N! You can’t do that, I’ll only be able to help you arrange the bouquets the day of. So you’ll have to put them all together yourself! When will you sleep? Eat? Poop!?!” He yelped.

“Firstly, my bowel movements are none of your concern,” you stated. “And second of all, I can’t refuse that kind of money! The next loan payment is going to fuck me over if I don’t have this padding. Please Joonie, tell me you can help me at least the night before,” you pleaded.

“I really can't Y/N, I’m working night rotation. So, I could maybe stop by in the morning but then the flowers have to sit longer,” he reasoned.

“Yeah I know... Can you switch?” You said, a soft voice replacing your whining.

“I wish I could, but there’s hardly any staff that night as it is. And we’re all pulling hours we don’t like. I can’t ask them to do more. Poor Taehyung has already covered me this month and I would rather throw myself in front of a car than ask again,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re busy and I’m desperate, but... I’ll figure it out,” you said, rubbing your face in exhaustion.

“What kind of asshat doesn’t come in until last minute to order a huge ass amount of floral arrangements?” Namjoon asked.

“An asshat named Park Jimin apparently,” you said, twisting the stem of a flower in front of you.

“You-You mean the Park Jimin?” Namjoon stuttered.

“I don’t know how many of them there are, Namjoon. I just know what this one looked like,” you said.

“Doesn’t he have like, neon pink hair or something?” He asked.

“Um, no? It was blonde-ish when he was in here,” you said.

“Plump lips?”

“Yeah?”

“Eyes that command the panties of women to drop?” He asked.

“Sir, my panties stayed firmly in place so I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about,” you huffed.

“For now, Y/N, for now. Anyways,” he said dismissively. “If this is the Park Jimin we’re talking about you need to be very careful.”

“What? What are you talking about,” you whispered.

“He’s like a sex God or something. He’s got game better than Jordan, okay? But he never commits to anyone,” he said, seriously.

You rolled your eyes, even though the man couldn’t see you.

“My heart isn’t in danger here, Namjoon. We’ll be fine. I can handle an attractive businessman,” you said.

“Yeah, but can your cum thirsty twat handle it?”

“Sir, I’m gonna hang up,” you warned.

“As a nurse I demand to know the last time you got laid,” he said. “It’s for you health of course.”

“That should be a HIPPA violation,” you complained.

“Yeah, not a friendship violation though. Tell me when was the last time you were left boneless between the sheets my guy,” he said.

“I don’t see how this has to do with floral arrangements,” you sighed. “But since your bitch ass needs to know it was about a year ago.”

“Well, maybe it is time to get back in the ring,” he reasoned.

“Namjoon, there’s no need to get me a suitor. You’re not my dad trying to get another cow on the farm or something,” you joked.

“Do you think Park Jimin would give me a cow if I gave him you?” He asked, sounding too serious for your liking.

“I’m really gonna hang up now,” you said, pulling your phone away from your face.

“Just, be safe Y/N! Don’t work too hard, I love you!” You heard screamed from the receiver.

“Yeah love you too Joonbug,” you said, hanging up and looking at the clock. The numbers glared back at you like they were judging you for being up this late. But you simply shrugged and went and took a much needed shower.

That man had you sweating like a sinner in church.

As you bathed you tried to think of your next plan of attack, but the water was too warm and soon you found yourself relaxing into the stream happily. Once you were done you cracked open a can of beer and sat down in your living room ready to start the night right, when a message floated across your screen.

Joonbug: IS THIS THE CULPRIT?!? Jpg.1013

You stared at the screen with an unamused face, but picked up your device anyway. Namjoon had sent you the picture and you could tell the fucker picked the first one off of google images like the lame hoe he was, but you looked regardless.

And, surprisingly, it was him.

The cherubic cheeks and wide smile, bright eyes and an alluring body. You sighed and texted him back.

Y/N: Yea, that’s him.

Joonbug: OH REAAALLLLYYYY???

Y/N: I hate you so much.

Joonbug: You can’t resist. THIS.

Y/N: I’ve resisted your rat poison for years, I think I got it.

Joonbug: EXcUSE MEEEE??? I am at least some kind of like, sexy poison???

Y/N: I’m dying either way, why do I care if it’s sexy or not?

Joonbug: :((((((

You left the conversation at that, but your mind began to wander. How were you going to finish this order and not embarrass yourself in front of a multimillionaire?

Maybe you bit off more than you can chew...

#ficswithluv #ksmutclub #Jimin X Reader #Greek Gods #Jimin as Aphrodite #BTS Greek Gods #Jimin X Reader smut #Jimin Smut #Slow burn #Future Smut #Namjoon is a nurse #BTS #Bangtan #BTS Fanfic #BTS Fanfiction #BTS smut

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travoltacustom · 3 years

Text

HypMic School Headcanons Part 1: BB, FP & BAT

I genuinely enjoyed this ask! Anyways, this is being split between BB, FP and BAT with MTC, MTR and DH in the next post. Thank you for your patience!

Read under the cut for BB, FP and BAT.

ー　BUSTER BROS　ー　

Ichiro

Favourite Subject: Music

Disliked Subject: Science - Physics

Grade: Middle B

Club: Soccer

He only managed a year into highschool before he had to quit. Taking care of his brothers was his priority. It stung bitterly to see other kids his age going about their daily lives, especially when his old classmates would invite him to hang out. He just couldn’t accept the time away from his family to have a day off.

Ichiro had a decent rep at school. Everyone knew him as an otaku, but it just so happened that his friendship group was a decent size so he was never picked on because of it.

Jiro

Favourite Subject: PE

Disliked Subject: Japanese

Grade: High C / Low B

Club: Soccer

There was never a time where Jiro wasn’t popular. His kindness was shown through helping out teachers and his skill in the soccer club made him everyone’s envy. But since he was genuinely a nice kid, nobody ever acted on that jealousy. He gets about two or three confessions a month!

Highschool is the most normal of things for him. Despite his ‘fans’, people still treat him normally. Right now his biggest concerns are just making it past test season, but he’s not so sure what he’ll do when it comes applying for universities.

Saburo

Favourite Subject: Maths

Disliked Subject: ICT (Computing/Tech)

Grade: High A+

Club: Science - Never actually shows up

He initially chose to take ICT for the easy grade, but now it’s way too easy for him! His teacher wants him transferred to another class because Saburo complains that he’s not learning anything - he can build a site in under an hour, and he’s pretty sure he knows way more than his teacher too.

This is the kid that keeps on saying that he should’ve been thrown ahead to high school but just doesn’t have the emotional maturity for it yet. He can’t make friends easily because he thinks he’s smarter than everyone and never cooperates during group projects despite how people are genuinely trying to connect with him.

ー　FLING POSSE　ー　

Ramuda [1]

Favourite Subject: Art

Disliked Subject: Science - Biology

Grade: Middle C

Club: Fashion

His grades would have been abysmal if not for some EXTREME sucking up to his teachers. Ramuda is also extremely squeamish so he gets antsy whenever they talked about dissection in class, and wouldn’t even think about medicines and chemical reactions because they made him nervous.

Ramuda’s eye for design made him sought out by every club to help with poster designs. Of course, Mr. Popular couldn’t say no when they were fueling his ego. At one point, there wasn’t a poster up in school that wasn’t designed by him.

Gentaro

Favourite Subject: Japanese

Disliked Subject: PE

Grade: High B / Low A

Club: Literary Society - went with his brother

He may be good at running but anything else will kill him. If you throw a ball at him he will fall over, injuring his whole body and he has to go to the nurse’s office. The nurse kept on saying that it wasn’t that bad but he would claim so many reasons as to why he shouldn’t go back and they just got fed up with him.

He could be an A student if he wanted. Gentaro was smart enough for it, but if he just needed B’s to get into the university he wanted with his brother, then it was enough.

Dice

Favourite Subject: Maths

Disliked Subject: Social Studies - History

Grade: High A+ then dropped to Middle B

Club: Track Club

He’s an Arisugawa - he had heavy expectations on him. His grades slipped when the pressure of expectations fell on him as he watched his family fight amongst themselves. It’s not that he wasn’t understanding the material, but he didn’t feel the need to try anymore.

Dice would’ve joined with delinquents... if his school had any. His group was a bunch of people who skipped class to play card games in an abandoned room. Even at a private school like this, these kids lost any sense of poise and would throw everything into their gamble.

ー　BAD ASS TEMPLE　ー　

Kuko

Favourite Subject: Social Studies - Religion

Disliked Subject: Home Economics

Grade: Low/Middle B

Club: Judo

“EVERYONE’S IN MY WAY I’M TRYING TO COOK. FUCK OFF.” Needless to say, he cannot cooperate in cooking class. Kuko can cook, like enough for himself, but he hates rubbing elbows with idiots that can’t even peel an onion without crying.

He hangs out on the school roof most days (like a shonen protagonist). Kuko’s sort of a lone wolf, but will sit down with anyone who’s actually brave enough to have lunch with him there. It’s a rag-tag group, but he wouldn’t say they were actually friends.

Jyushi

Favourite Subject: Music

Disliked Subject: Science - Biology

Grade: Middle B

Club: ‘Light’ Music Club

He’s good with lyrics so he understands poems so easily. However, sometimes it slips into his answer and the person marking his work has trouble with understanding him... he can get more poetic than the poem he’s describing.

The light music club is more of an occult club at this point. Or visual kei likers... The school wouldn’t let them have either club, so they’re together under the guise of the light music club. Jyushi was in line to be successor of the ‘Prince of Darkness’ (Club President) but he got busy with his own band stuff.

Hitoya

Favourite Subject: Science - Biology

Disliked Subject: Social Studies - Geography

Grade: High A+

Club: Jazz band. Played the guitar.

Jakurai and Hitoya formed a jazz band together, since their school wasn’t big enough for an orchestra. It wasn’t a group that could ever compete in competitions, but it was enough to just jam with their friends. Hitoya still gets together with some of the members to play around.

The teachers though of him as one of the most reliable students... which meant that he ended up as their courier. Hitoya was just too nice to say no back then, but he still feels spiteful for the teachers who sent him up so many floors back then.

NOTES

[1] Hypnosis Radio Season 1: Ramuda canonically doesn’t even know what a school is! He thinks it’s a place where people go to talk about the latest trends. He also thinks that one shouldn’t be so fixated on this school place since the world is so big

Source: https://twitter.com/hypmic_en/status/1201546133501358081

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #ichiro yamada #jiro yamada #saburo yamada #ramuda amemura #gentaro yumeno #dice arisugawa #kuko harai #jyushi aimono #hitoya amaguni #division all stars #headcanon #request #anon

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general-thinks · 3 years

Text

OOODAAAA WHY ARE WE ON HIATUS AGAIN AAAAAAAAHHHH

Ok, now that I took that one out the system, at least we have something Komi related for this week!

I would start talking about the recent @zer0cracy 's animation, but I want to talk about something else before that.

And I'm talking about the Komi-san Live Action adaptation.

Ok, listen, I... I don't like any type of anime live action adaptation. Like, at all.

I-I know there are people that enjoy it, and I can only respect the actors that are so passionate about the source material to do this , but... but I don't know ok? There is just something that I can't pintpoint that makes me so annoyed by them for just existing.

And so, when the news of a Komi san Live Action came, I... I honestly grimaced, and prepared myself for the worst. All I could do was hope they would find some actor similar to the cast, and be the most faithfull to the manga possible.

And so, when today on the subreddit r/Komi_san a 5 minutes teaser dropped, I was already expecting my death, unsure if ignoring it or actually acknowledging its existence.

...I sat down, taking a break every 10-30 seconds due to my visceral hate for Live Actions and my love for Komi san battling againts each other making me feel sick. I felt like Odysseus, roped to his ship to hear the siren's song, a victim to my curiosity, just to have some content to release today and now... *sigh* we need to talk.

Mind you: This is not a mindless bashing. I just want to talk about some decisions and my thought on cast members. And just something to talk about waiting for the next Komi-san chapter.

First off, let's talk about Tadano

...who is this guy? I said-

.............*sigh*...........

Ok, so, let's start with the obvious: WHERE IS THE WHITE TURF? Ok maybe this is a conscious choice, to make him even more average. I can... I can still accept it.

But... I'm sorry, I don't see Tadano at all watching him. I can see AT BEST Kometani. And another thing is that (as it can be in the actual trailer, sorry I can't share the link with you all) is... too much expressive. I know, it's a weird thing to say, but one of Tadano's charm is how easy going and calm he constantly is, despite the chaos happening around him. But this version, it's too... fidgy? He moves too much, it's like seeing a Tadano not out of his chunni fase yet. Like, as you can see here-

...ok never mind let's move on and ignore this.

...ehy, wait a minute but behind him there's... hm... maybe it's a coincidence...

In the end, I give this LiveAction!Tadano a 4/10, even below the average. I hope this one was an error in the production of the teaser and he's actually more Tadano-like in the show, but I fear this is not the case. It's not his fault, if it was, I don't know, Naruse, the characterisation would work perfectly, but... this is Tadano...

Also, as we can see here, Tadano crossing the street, I bet that there is going to be a live adaptation of Yamai's kidnapping too.

Live Action Yamai. Rejoice.

Next one is Komi, and... she kinda works?

Loyal enough to the original Komi, the haircut is almost the same, the only thing that miss and it shows is the murder gaze. I guess it's not that easy to do, or easy as I think, but maybe put a little more of spirit?

I don't know, she just looks depressed. And while that's gold for angsty fanfic writers, for an early Komi-san it's not the best. But hey, at least she is similar to Komi! So take this 7/10

Next one is Najimi, and... I don't know what to think of them.

While at first I was outraged for the missing lavander hair and antennas, watching some scenes with them there made this Live Action version grow on me. They bring a nice energy in the scenes, and it's quirky enough for Komi-san, but...

...It's not chaotic enough, and it's a really big problem for a character like Najimi! It's like a chilled Osana in this teaser, and I'm really, really conflicted about it.

So, in true Najimi's fashion, I'll give to this version a ???/10. I have high hopes for you, don't delude me.

Next one is Katai, and...

...I FUCKING LOVED HIM.

This is the only actor by far that I think nailed down the manga character perfectly, he's so over the top and failing at being a delinquent that actually makes me think "yeah, if Katai were a real guy, he would be like him." I would die for this guy. Also the homoerotic tension between him and Tadano are even stronger than the one in the manga so that's a plus too

Explain this, heteroes.

So yeah, LiveAction!Katai deserve the 9/10, get a little more buffer and you'll top the score easily.

And lastly, Naka- no? Ehm... then Yama- no again? But... who else could be here in the class-

........MANBAGI?????

Ok first thing, the actor works for her. She may be not excactly like our Manbagi, but she looks like a ray of sunshine and like Manbagi she seems like a good and lovable girl. I'm sorry that I couldn't add more photos, but trust me, even in the nurse office scene her vibes just worked. I'll give to LiveAction!Manbagi a 8/10.

But now, let's adress the elephant in the classroom.

THEY ADDED THE FIRST YEAR AND SECOND YEAR CLASSROOMS IN ONE SINGLE CLASSROOM AND CALLED IT A DAY.

This is massive!! Like... like I don't even have the wors to describe how much of a big deal this is, butchering the character arc of Komi and Manbagi, and cancelling icons such as SHINOBINO or NARUSE.

I'm still in shock. I don't understand the creative process behind this idea. "Yeah let's add Manbagi in the first year. Who cares if her struggles for being part of a new class is one of the most important step for Komi since she for the first reached out for someone else and Komi had an entire year of experience to actually talk to someone that wasn't her family or Tadano. I'm sure nothing bad can happen from this decision."

It just... baffles me. Who had the idea to do a Live Action NOW? The anime starts two month from now on, and it's not like Komi need something for build up the hype since we were waiting this anime for years, so much that it became a joke in the anime community. If they wanted to do a Live Action, make a live action of the ONE SHOT at this point! So the people get familiar with the characters and explore the strange world of the prototype Komi, not SPOILING ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTER OF THE MANGA, SINCE SHE APPEAR IN THE SECOND YEAR AND IT'S A TESTAMENT TO KOMI'S GROWTH.

I... I need to lay down for a moment... no, for a whole day. I planned to do the reaction to Zer0's animation but now I'm exausted from the rant. I'll probably do it tomorrow. I'm sorry guys, and until next time

#also whERE THE FUCK IS ONEMINE #komi-san wa komyushou desu #komi san wa komyushou desu #komi san can't communicate #komi san has a communication disorder #komi san is bad at communication #komi san komyushou desu #komi-san can't communicate #komi san #general ramblings

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Freak of Nature.”

A continuation from yesterday. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope you enjoy the setup for some other stories I am planning on doing :)

Have a good day!

Breaking News

The Galaxy is left stunned after the events of late yesterday evening, when a single armed shooter appeared from the crowd and fired on UNSC leader and cultural icon Admiral Vir during a routine press conference given at UNSC headquarters Fort Harmony on the eastern Mericandian coast. Reports describe the event as happening midway through Admiral Vir’s address as the single, hooded female pushed through the crowd and drew a handgun on the Admiral firing once before fleeing into the crowd. She was apprehended by armed security agents only moments later as she tried to flee the scene. On scene witnesses report that an accompanying marine tackled Admiral Vir to the ground just as the shot was fired.

In a statement made early this morning by Admiral Vir he reports that, “Thanks to the brave actions of Corporal Angel Ramirez I am alive and unharmed.” Corporal Angel Ramirez is a decorated veteren of the UNSC deep space division and served his first tour aboard the UNSC Enterprise on its maiden voyage. Since then he has served under Admiral Vir on both the UNSC Harbinger and most recently the Omen distinguishing himself in combat during the Burg war and the Kree engagement. Our sources report that Corporal Ramirez was once an up and coming champion in the Mericandian winter Olympic ice skating team before joining the marines.

Reports say that the corporal came out of surgery early this morning and is in stable but critical condition.

The only question remains is who would attempt an assasination on such a beloved cultural icon. More on that with our crime reporter Jim Shaw.

Thank you, Emily, early this morning we received reports from Fort harmony officials that the name and identity of the shooter is 37 year old Adrea Halen member of a traditionalist leaning moderate group the Hunt Party, who have condemned Admiral Vir in the past for his support of legalizing extrial relationships. President Hunt, leader of the hunt Party and CEO of Hunt Metals said in a statement today. “Our party had nothing to do with Ms. Halen’s actions, while we disagree with Admiral Vir on some fundamentals of government, we would never attempt to silence him through violence. At the end of the day Admiral Vir has done far more good than he has bad and no man deserves to die due to his political views. What Ms halen has done is condemnable, and the party does not support her actions.”

Further comment was withheld until a later date. As of yet police have been unable to determine if she acted alone or with the assistance of the group. Police chief Henry Winzer added in his statement today, “Ms. Halen has not, as of yet, divulged her motives behind the shooting, however based on preliminary evidence of the scene it seems as if these were the actions of a woman acting alone. Detectives have been unable to find any correspondence between her and a third party and even her husband had been out of the country for the past few months.”

Her motive remains, as of yet, unknown. There is evidence of a radicalized political view since she did attempt and target Admiral Vir, and some of her personal social media content has been leaked to the public reporting her dissatisfaction with going the GA and her open disgust for extrial activities especially in regards her oldest son who was in a relationship with a Finnari before moving to Noctropolis. We have since been unable to contact him.

In the past Admiral Vir has been known as a great political proponent in favor of extrial relationships, and a non isolationist view having once said that, “Cooperation and companionship with the GA will be the bedrock of human expansion into space.” With the popularity of Admiral Vir as a cultural Icon, it can be said that his political views have been influential on the younger upcoming generations of today, while the older populace still remains wary of political involvement with extraterrestrial life. In oth-

Adam shut off the TV sinking back into one of the stiff plastic chairs that adorned the hospital waiting room. His eyes felt grainy and dry, and his head ached dully behind his eyes. Off in the corner of the room much of Ramirez’s family lay asleep on the plastic chairs including his father and otters who had arrived late last night. They had fallen asleep after a nurse ventured in a few hours to go to let them know that he was stable and alive. Adam himself had not been able to sleep thinking about his friend, replaying the moment over and over in his head wondering if there was something he could have done to prevent all of this from happening. But the more he thought the more he realized that it was probably unlikely. He might have been able to dive out of the way himself before the shot was fired, but Ramirez was already in motion before that.

He couldn’t have seen it coming, no one could have, and no one did.

Ramirez had just been the fastest.

He sunk back into his chair miserably and stared at the wall. There were no windows in this room, the guard detail had insisted upon it incase someone else tried for his life. It all seemed so strange to him. Why would anyone want to kill him?

He knew the answer though, as much as he wanted to think he was just some nobody, he wasn’t anymore. He was… a political figure, someone who could influence what happened in the galaxy and there were plenty of people who weren’t bound to agree with him on a lot of things.

He just wondered why he hadn’t seen this coming sooner.

His implant buzzed, and he looked down to see that his mother was calling. Whoopse, she wasn’t going to be happy that she was just hearing about this over the news, but he knew he needed to talk to her. He stood and made his way into the hallway, where a protection detail eyed him hawkishly.

Closing the door behind him, so as not to disturb its sleeping occupants, he answered the call, speaking out loud as the implants in his throat and ear picked up the sound, “Hey, mom.”

“Adam! Adam are you alright! I just saw the news.”

“Yeah, yea I’m ok.” He took a deep breath, “Sorry I didn’t call. It’s just been kinda hectic.”

“And you’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I mean, I feel like shit but no bullet wounds….” he trailed off

There was silence for a moment, ‘I’m so sorry sweetheart, how is Ramirez?”

“Doctor’s haven’t given us all the details yet, but he's at least alive and survived surgery.”

“Thank goodness…. We owe that boy.”

“I know, mom…. I know.”

Just then he heard voices off down the hall and turned to see Dr. kill and Dr Katie approaching from the wings.

“Mom, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, Ok?”

“Ok.”

She let him go and he hung up as the two doctors approached.

“How is he!”

They motioned him into the room and he followed just as Ramirez’s family members were waking up.

Adam hovered near the door not entirely sure if he was supposed to be there. Ramirez’s mother sat up, “Is h ok!”

Dr. Kati and Dr Krill glanced at Adam. Adam realized with Dr. patient confidentiality, and it being family, he probably wasn’t supposed to be here. He went to step outside, but Ramirez’s abuela waved him back.

Ramirez an Dr Katie nodded.

The little alien stepped forward towards the family, “I have both good and bad news.”

The group waited with bated breath.

“THe good news is that your son made it through surgery. He is stable and recovering in the ICU.” he glanced over at Katie, “The bullet went in through his back, through his right kidney and perforated some of his lower bowl. We were able to fix the tears but the kidney…. Was not salvageable.”

The family glanced back and forth between each other, “That…. That’s not so bad though. He has two….”

Krill shifted slightly, “Well that is the remarkable thing and also the bad news but…. Your son only had one kidney. We wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for our imaging, but it seems he has lived with this defect his entire life without complication.”

Dr. Katie Cut in just then, “Since he was born with the defect, his body compensated. The kidney that was destroyed was much larger than average…” She trailed off

The family members looked between each other, “So…. So what does this mean.”

“We have him on dialysis right now, and he is going to need a kidney transplant.” Dr. Katie folded her hands, “There are a few options, there is always the possibility of getting him a donor kidney or equally possible and more…. Advisable would be to have a kidney grown for him using his own stem cells, that way we can grow him one like the one he lost considering there is no way for us to give him two. If he were to get a donor kidney, he would have to undergo chronic gene therapy to avoid medications that would leave him immunocompromised. However in that case he would need to be medically discharged. If we were to grow him a new kidney, he would be able to return to his post without being discharged, but the cost is…. Admittedly much higher.”

The family glanced between each other their faces pulled into grimaces.

Adam knew their financial situation. He had heard stories about Ramirez growing up and knew enough to know that his family had never been well off. They had been close, his childhood had been excellent, but they had never been rich. Affording either of those options was going to be a stretch.

“Well we will have to talk about-”

“I’ll pay for it.”

The entire room turned to look at him.

“You-”

“I said I will pay for it. With the settlement for the court case, I can pay for it. He saved my life this is the least I can do, Please…”

His pleading was so plaintive that the family could hardly say no. He did have a point as well. Instead, he received an enthusiastic hug from Ramirez’s younger sister who clasped her arms around him and nearly snapped him in half with her strength. She was an olympic boxer after all, so he wasn’t surprised.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” She repeated.

Dr. Katie looked at him with a pointed expression, but she didn’t need to ask. He intended to pay for every last cent of Ramirez’s treatment even if he had to fight his abuela for it. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d win against her, but he would damn sure try if it meant doing something fo his friend.

He owed him after all.

And even if he didn’t Ramirez was his best friend. This wasn’t about owing him, this was about doing anything for someone he cared about.

Dr. Krill shifted in his place, “We will get the equipment ready and start later this week. I…. would be honored to perform the operation. I will be upfront with you and say that I am the universe's foremost surgeon, but I would also be the first Alien to perform a transplant”

“I of course, you saved his life last night-”

They seemed almost in shock. Everything was being paid for and the universe most renowned surgeon was practically begging to do it.

The only way this could have been better is if their son hadn’t been shot in the first place.

***

The steady beeping of the machine echoed around the room. Adam sat with one ankle crossed over a knee looking down at his implant and absently reading through that day’s news report as a soft whirring came from the machine just to his right. He wasn’ technically supposed to be here, but the doctors had made an exception for him and the family. On the other side of that a glass tube was busy growing an extra kidney. There was security outside the door and a doctor came in every few minutes to check on the kidney, and the man to which the kidney belonged.

Adam scrolled dow.

There was a shifting just to his side, and with relief Adam looked up to find Ramirez stirring. The man tried to open his eyes but squinted against the light and groaned raising one IV tethered hand to block the light.

Adam leaned over resting a hand on his arm, “Hey you’re finally awake.”

Ramirez cracked an eye at him and groaned.

“Come on ya freak wake up.”

Ramirez closed his eyes again, “Why…. When I wake up do I have to see your ugly ass.

Adam snorted, “How sweet, freak.”

“Freak, have you looked at yourself lately.”

“At least I was born with all my kidneys.”

Ramirez opened his eyes and frowned, “What?”

Adam smiled slightly, “Turns out your dumbass has lived his entire life with only one kidney. Congratulations, you are a freak of nature.”

“No shit, really? I had no idea.”

“We know, anyway the bullet sort of ruined it, so you have to get a new one. He pointed across the room to the glass tube and its slowly growing kidney which was no bigger than a jellybean right at that moment.”

Ramirez looked and frowned, “Ew, gross… wait who's paying for that,because I don’t think the military covers transplants.”

“It's taken care of.”

“By who.”

“By someone.”

“Someone who.”

“Someone who would rather remain unnamed.”

Ramirez looked at him,”It’s you isn't it.”

Adam sighed, “You saved my life, so shut up and let me buy you a new kidney. I owe you that much at least.”

“Fne, fine.”

There was a pause between them.

“I….. thank you, for saving my-”

“Dude don’t get all sappy and shit on me ok. You would have done it for me.” Adam went quiet still wishing to thank his friend but knowing Ramirez would never accept i.

Ramirez shifted to look at him, “So, you know why they tried to kill you?”

Adam shrugged, “Not really, the lady who did it has some political affiliations who don't tend to agree with me, but that connection doesn't seem to fit completely. Either that or she blames me for making her son an extrial in which case….. That hardly makes sense either.” he shrugged, “Either way she isn’t talking, and now I can’t go anywhere without five to six bodyguards spilling out my ass.”

Ramirez snorted, eyes closing, breathing deeply.

“You feeling ok.”

“Yeah…. I’m alright, just tired.”

“Then go back to sleep ya big idiot. Maybe if you’re a good boy santa will leave a kidney under your pillow.”

Ramirez let off a weak huff, “Didn’t know santa was a black market organ dealer.”

“He is this christmas, now shut up and go to sleep.” Ramirez didn’t argue with him beyond that point, and fell back asleep just as a nurse ws coming to check on him.

Adam was relieved.

Ramirez was, hopefully, going to be ok.

Though what remained were far more questions than there were answers.

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simonxriley · 3 years

Text

OC lore part 1 of 7 for @gear-redfield

Since I have a ton of ocs I’m gonna start off with the ones that are in different fandoms and then work my way through the fandoms I have multiple ocs for. I think I’m gonna do 5-6 HCs for them so it won’t be a mile long. The other ocs I’ll go into more details (maybe).

Riley Sanders (Metro Series)

Has three Watchers for pets, they’re her babies. But there was barely any room on the Aurora for them until they ended up getting the other rail carts. They tend to sleep anywhere they want, mostly in place where they stop people from moving around the train.

She’s not very talkative, likes to keep to herself for the most part. The people she talks with the most is Ulman, Artyom, Anna and Duke. That was until Katya and Nastya joined them.

Being able to breathe fresh air was kind of liberating for her. It made her happy that there were placing where you can live and breathe on the surface, not stuck in the dark, cold and damp metro.

Besides her and Ulman, Nastya was the first of the Aurora crew to hold their son.

Her brother wasn’t with her when that whole issue on the train occurred. He has no idea if she’s alive or not and she vice versa. She’s hoping she’ll be able to see him soon and have him meet his new nephew.

Amazing at stealth. Can sneak by a group or camp in a matter of minutes without killing anyone.

Kenadee “The Viper” Taylor (Ghost Recon)

She joined the US Army right out of high school with her high school sweetheart, Maverick. They married a year later and a year after that had their daughter Addison.

Joined Delta Force at the age of 24. That whole selection process was rigorous but very rewarding.

She has a very happy outlook on life, always bubbly. You wouldn’t think she’s apart of Delta. It throws people off every time.

Lost her husband in the field when their daughter was 5 years old. She retired after that and moved back to her hometown of San Diego where she could raise their daughter in a better environment.

Joined Nomad’s Ghosts five and a half years later. All thanks to Midas, who she met because their kids go to school together.

Carries around a knife coated in snakes venom, only uses it during interrogations.

Anja Kovic (Uncharted)

Was born to Borislav Kovic, a General Major in the Yugoslavia Ground Forces and Svetlana Kovic, a former nurse. Also the younger sister to Vladimir.

She grew up in a highly abusive household under her fathers rule. He had that mindset of the men work and the woman stay home, then add on the strictness of being in a military family.

Wanted to be a nurse growing up but those dreams got shot down when her father married her off to the war lord Zoran Lazarevic at the age of 18.

Marriage to Zoran was horrific, she was just happy he spent more time in the field than with her. His death did not sadden her whatsoever.

Lost her mother to suspicious circumstances when she was twelve. Leaving her and her older brother at the will of their father.

After Zoran’s death she was finally free. She left for Serbia in search of finding her brother and during that time gave birth to her and unfortunately Zoran’s son, naming him Dragan. And yes, she did find her brother and became the nurse she always wanted to be.

Evelyn “Evie” Hazelton (The Order 1886)

Was born to Edith Hazelton and an unnamed father in London, England on October 1st, 1860. (Her mom was a prostitute)

She lived in a brothel up until her mom’s murder. She loved it, to be surrounded with so many women that helped her through her life, gave her advice and helped molded her into the woman she is today.

Sir Percival/Malory gave her a spot on the Order after her mom’s death and she became the protege of Sir Galahad/Grayson. There she learned how to fight and shoot a gun.

The first time she ever saw a werewolf she thought it was a big dog. It was late at night, she was young and couldn’t tell since it was in the far distance.

Has a scar going down her back from being scratched by a werewolf during a fight.

Very protective of the people she cares about. She was the only person who pleaded not guilty during Grayson’s trial because she knows him. She knew he wouldn’t have worked with the rebellion if it didn’t suit a good cause.

Lydia Wilson (Call of Cthulhu)

Her parents were apart of the cult that was trying to bring back Cthulhu. However, they left Darkwater when Lydia was five and moved to Boston.

No matter how much her parents tried to make her forget the past, she didn’t. She still has memories of the cult, what the uniforms looked like, the masks. It never left her.

Started hearing the voice of the Leviathan in her dreams once she hit her late 20′s. Eventually she caught wind of what he wanted and she set sail for Darkwater, a place she hasn’t been since she was five.

Her father ran a tailoring shop and she helped a lot through her childhood.

When she spaces out she has a resting bitch face. It makes her loo unapproachable according to her mother.

The first time she saw the Shambler she though she was hallucinating. That wasn’t the case and she never wants to deal with it again.

Lily (MCU)

Born on the planet Prometheus. A planet cover in lush green grass and waterfalls.

Ever since she was a child she had this fight in her. She use to find a decent sized stick and pretend to fight a tree.

Was married to Thanos for over 20 years. The only good that came out of it were her kids.

Joined the Avengers after Thanos’ death. It was nice to be around people and strike up conversations. She just loved learning about Earth and she would talk about her home world.

She was the first owner of the scepter until it was given to Loki. That made her angry, she really loved that scepter.

The first person she befriended was Carol Danvers because her youngest daughter, Lotus really liked her.

Ashlynn Davenport (Tomb Raider)

Was born into Trinity. Her father was a sergeant in the Trinity army and her mom was a nurse.

She liked her life for the most part, loved her parents and friends, but the more she found out about Trinity and all the harm they do she wanted out. Unfortunately they didn’t happen when she was being married off to the Trinity field commander, Konstantin.

Being married to Konstantin meant moving around a lot, never really staying in one place for too long. Once the mission was done then they moved on. She didn’t mind it, not at first. She liked traveling around and seeing the world, but the stuff Trinity did put a bad taste in her mouth.

Ash can be quite manipulative when she wants to be. It was something she learned from her dad growing up.

She helped Lara take down Trinity from the inside when they were looking for the divine source. No one figured it out, all of thinking it was Lara.

Ashlynn actually loved Konstantin, she just thought his mind was corrupted by his sister and was trying to make him see what was right. So when he died she was pretty pissed and was going to say her true feeling to Ana. Unfortunately the Trinity sniper got to Ana first. Leaving her with a bunch of anger inside her.

Sawyer Monrow (TLOU)

She was 12 at the time of when the cordycepts outbreak began. Her life was pretty great as well and then over night everything changed.

Her family ended up at the Hartford QZ, where her and her younger brother went through military training (just like in Boston) to teach them how to kill infected and other humans if necessary.

Met Joel and Ellie in Pittsburgh. She was with Henry and Sam at the time and after their deaths she stayed with them and made the trek to Jackson.

She can be very standoff-ish at first glance. It’s how she acts in this apocalyptic world, more so to protect herself and because she doesn’t trust people.

Started a relationship with Joel a year and a half later. He was the first person she really let in and was happy for the few years they were together. She even considers Ellie like a little sister.

She lost her family when the Hartford QZ fell. She tried to save her brothers, but couldn’t. That still haunts her to this day.

Phaedra Alexeyev (Werewolf The Apocalypse)

She’s very good at backstabbing and manipulating people. All thanks to her former caern. A part of her hates it, but the other knows how in handy it can be.

She was born at the Shadow Lords Thunderstrike Sept, Ural Mountains, Russia. Close to the city of Chelyabinsk.

Phaedra and Cahal became a surrogate family after they both had to kill a family member.

Always the first ready to jump into the action. When there’s a fight she’s on the front lines, she’s not going to miss out. And she just likes to fight in general.

She born under a full moon making her have the Ahroun Auspices.The Full Moon makes the Ahroun the living weapon of Gaia. They are the warrior among a race of warriors, the champion of a martial people. Ever ready to kill, and to die if need be.

Her name means Bright Defender.

Emma Ross (Stargate Atlantis)

Joined the Marines to help pay for her college tuition. She surprisingly enjoyed it and continued to serve as she got her degree in science.

Lived a very mundane life growing up. Had two wonderful parents, a good upbringing, nothing exciting really happened. Which might have been the reason she joined the military.

The hardest thing she has to do is lie to her friends and family when she was transferred over to the Atlantis expedition. Being so far away from them sucks, but with the Daedalus she has more of a chance to go visit them.

As much as she’s in danger, she’s never felt more alive than being on Sheppard’s team. All the action just makes her blood pump.

Ronon calls her ‘red’ due to her being a red head. She finds it kinda funny.

She’s very friends and loves to strike up conversations whenever she can. Getting to know more people on Atlantis made living there easier.

#gear-redfield #oc riley sanders #oc kenadee taylor #oc anja kovic #oc evie hazelton #oc lydia wilson #oc lily #oc ashlynn davenport #oc sawyer monrow #oc phaedra alexeyev #oc emma ross #long post

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bxcketbarnes · 4 years

Text

The Black Angels (Gang!AU)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Words: 3200+

Author's Note: I was looking at the prompt list I reblogged a while ago and got this idea from one of them. I hope you all like it! xox

The Black Angels. One of the most ruthless gangs in Los Angeles. Their leader? Calum Hood. You've heard a lot about the guy since one of your best friends happens to work with him. Ashton Irwin. Calum's right-hand man.

You've patched up Calum and his men more than enough times since you're a nurse at the local hospital. You always worry a bit helping his gang as they're the biggest target in the city.

"Y/N, you've got men in room 4," one of your co-workers tells you and you sigh, nodding your head. You place one of your patient’s folders back into its place before heading to room 4.

Ashton, Calum, and Michael greet you with small smiles when you step through the door. "What happened this time?" You ask them and Ashton pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a couple of slice wounds on his torso. "Jesus Christ."

Calum watches you with a cautious eye as you step towards the black-haired man, your fingers running over the wound. Ashton hisses, moving his body away from your touch and you quietly apologize.

"Let me just go get a couple of things to patch you up," you mumble before heading out the door.

"Are you sure we can trust her?" Calum asks Ash and the man gives him a look.

"What do you mean?! She's been helping us for months!" Ashton states and Cal crosses his arms over his chest.

Before Cal could answer you walk back into the room with various utensils and bandages. You look up at the guys, feeling the tension in the air as you glance between Calum and Ashton.

You've always been intimidated by Calum and you couldn't pinpoint why the man didn't like you very much when you've saved their asses so many times. You set the supplies on the table beside Ashton, feeling Calum's eyes on you as you rip open a packet of alcohol wipes.

Ashton hisses when you swipe it across one of the slashes. "Sorry," you mumble and toss the used wipe into the trash. You grab a needle and thread and start to stitch the wound.

"Why are you helping us?" Calum asks calmly and your gaze moves to the brunette, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Because I care about my friend. We may not be friends Calum, but I'm not leaving Ashton to die," you snarl while narrowing your eyes at him.

Michael snickers, covering his face with his hand as Ashton lets out a grunt. You tie off his stitch and begin to move to the next one. "Cal, I told you that you can trust her. I've known her for years," Ash mumbles and you thank him quietly.

Calum huffs and walks out of the room, Michael following him after he apologizes for his leader's behavior. "Is he always like that?" You ask Ashton and he nods his head.

"Unfortunately, yeah. Ever since one of the guys turned out to be a traitor from a rival gang he's had trust issues," the black-haired man explains and you hum in reply.

"I still wish you would let me around the safehouse. Or even try to convince him to set up a medical wing so y'all don't have to keep coming here," you try to reason with him and Ashton gives you a look.

"You know why I can't do that," he mumbles and you let out a sigh, finishing patching up his wounds. "I don't want other gangs to think you're close to us. It could get you hurt or killed."

You walk up to The Black Angel's safehouse, pounding on the door as you hold your medical bag in your free hand. You look around to make sure no one's around as the door opens in front of you.

A man you've never seen before stands in front of you and you eye him curiously. "Can I help you?" He asks, laying a hand on the gun in his pants and you let out a snort, moving past him.

"Please. Ashton! Get your ass out here," you yell out as some of the guys turn their heads towards you.

Calum comes out of one of the rooms first, a glare in his brown eyes as he walks up to you. "What are you doing here?" He asks, anger evident in his rugged voice.

"I'm here to take Ashton's stitches out. If he had answered his phone, I wouldn't need to be here, Calum," you spit as the black-haired man comes around the corner.

"Y/N!" He states with wide eyes and steps between you and Calum. "What the fuck? I told you not to come here. How did you even find us?!"

You cross your arms over your chest, looking up at the tall man. "I've got my sources. Why weren't you answering your phone?" You ask in return and Ashton lets out a sigh.

"Broken. Calum ran it over when we were driving away from a supply run," he explains and your anger dissipates, running a hand through your hair.

"You still could've come by to get your stitches out. You know the drill," you tell him and the man chuckles while nodding his head. "Is there a place we can do it?"

Ashton nods his head and leads you towards his room, Calum's eyes on your back the entire time. You can feel him burning a hole through you and you glance over your shoulder at him.

He huffs and turns to go back into his office, slamming the door shut behind him. Calum sighs and runs a hand over his blue hair. "Fucking hell," he mumbles and walks over to his desk. There was a picture of you on it, his fingers tapping it a couple of times.

The blue-haired man is trying to get used to you being around, but it's difficult. Especially because you're a woman. He wouldn't want any kind of woman getting into this mess. Having the possibility that they could get hurt or even killed…

You and Ashton walk into his room, the black-haired man closing the door behind you. "You think he's lightening up?" You hum and Ash playfully glares at you. "What?!"

"You know I don't want you here," he sighs and you give him a look before letting out a sigh. "Y/N, I'm serious. I don't know what I would do if something happens to you. I know Aunt Laurie would fucking kill me."

You shake your head and set your medical bag on the desk. "I didn't know my mom scared you so much, Ash," you laugh as he sits down in the chair after taking his shirt off.

"She can be quite intimidating when she's angry," he tells you and you shrug your shoulders. "Look… I'm only looking out for you and my picture of you disappeared so I need you to stay on the low."

You furrow your eyebrows together and crouch in front of him. "Why do you have a picture of me? Freak," you tease and Ashton scoffs.

"Because you're the only family member I'm really close with. Other than my mom," he states and you smile up at him.

You take out his stitches, seeing his wounds have healed up nicely. "Well, the good thing is that the slices have healed perfectly. The bad news is that you'll have a few scars," you tell him while throwing some stuff away.

"Eh, the ladies like a good story," he says and you gag slightly.

"Ash, I don't need to know that. You're my cousin," you chuckle and the black-haired man shrugs his shoulders. "Alright. I'm leaving now. Please get a new phone, so I know you're okay."

Ashton nods his head and wraps his arms around your shoulders, bringing you into a hug. You breathe in deeply, resting your hands on the middle of his back. "Make it home safely. If you feel like someone's following you, come back here," he exclaims and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Thought you didn't want me coming here?" You ask with a smirk and Ashton rolls his eyes and pushes you away.

"Well, you're already here so might as well have you come back," he states and you nod your head, understanding what he's getting at.

You wave goodbye to him while leaving his room, looking to your left to see a man standing in the doorway. He slowly backs into the room before closing the door and you swallow thickly, already feeling uncomfortable.

You hug your medical bag to your chest as you walk down the hallway. You peek your head into Calum's office, seeing the blue-haired man sitting at his desk. You debate to yourself whether or not you should talk to him, but you wanted to gain his trust.

"Calum?" You call out and his head snaps up, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Mind if I have a word with you?"

He looks at you cautiously as you step into the room before closing the door. "Sure come on right in," Cal states in a rude tone and you sigh. "Sorry."

"What's it going to take for you to trust me?" You ask him, getting right to the point and the man leans back in his chair.

"I'm sure Ashton's told you what I've dealt with before," he mentions and you slowly nod your head. "Then you know why I have trust issues."

You run a hand through your hair, letting out a short sigh as your eyes roam around his desk. You furrow your eyebrows together when a picture of you sits on it. "So, you took the picture from Ashton's room?!" You ask and step forward to pick it up before throwing it at him. "What?! You don't trust him to where you're taking his things?!"

Calum chuckles and stands from his chair, towering over you. "I trust Ashton. I don't trust you," he mutters into your ear and you shiver. "Who are you to him?"

"She's my cousin," Ashton's voice calls out and you jump, moving away from the blue-haired man. "What I don't understand is why you couldn't just ask me instead of taking my stuff."

Your glance over your shoulder to see Ash standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. You move your gaze back to Calum and he sighs, sitting on the edge of his desk.

"Sorry, Ash, but you know how I am," he exclaims and the black-haired man snorts, nodding his head.

"You're right. I do know, but you also know that I'm a good friend of yours. So, if you have a problem you can come to me," Ashton mentions and Cal nods his head.

The boss man grabs the picture off of the desk and holds it out to Ash. He takes a hold of it before his hazel eyes move to you. "What are you doing in here, anyway?" He questions and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I came to try to make amends since I plan to be around more often," you tell him and you bring your eyes back to Calum. "I'll see you guys later."

You walk away, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit as you head towards the front door. "Hey," Calum calls out and you glance over your shoulder, humming in response. "There's an extra room here that could be for your medical stuff. So, we don't have to keep bothering you at the hospital… even though it's technically your job."

He smirks and you chuckle softly. "Yeah? Sounds like you're asking me to move in, Hood," you also smirk and Calum laughs, shaking his head.

"You wish," he states and turns around to head back into his office. You bite your lip, trying to stop the smile from coming to your lips as you continue to walk towards the front door.

A loud knock on your door awakens you from your slumber. You spring up, a gasp leaving your lips as you breathe heavily and look around your bedroom. "What the hell?" You whisper to yourself when another round of knocks sounds off the walls.

You furrow your eyebrows together as you throw your blanket off of your body. You get up from the bed, slowly walking towards the front door of your apartment.

"Y/N? I can hear you walking," Calum's voice comes through the door and you're even more confused.

You unlock the door and open it a bit, looking at the blue-haired man through the crack. "Calum? Wha-How do you know where I live?" You ask him and you see him gripping his side.

"I've got sources," he says with a smirk and you roll your eyes as that's what you told him and Ash about two months ago upon finding their safehouse. "I… we got ambushed and I need some help."

"I think you're bleeding," you state while noticing the droplets of blood staining the carpet. "C'mon, get inside before someone sees you."

You wrap an arm around Cal as you help him inside your place, immediately walking towards the bathroom. "Thanks, by the way, for not just throwing me to the dogs. I know I haven't been the nicest to you," he confesses and you glance up at him while turning on the bathroom light.

"It's alright, Calum. You had your reasons. Plus, we've been getting along well the past couple of months. I think we're past that rough stage," you smile gently at him and your heart flutters in your chest as a smile comes to his plump lips as well.

"How are you so sweet?" He asks and you blush, shrugging your shoulders. A wince leaves his lips and you snap back to reality, realizing that Calum's currently bleeding on your tile floor.

You unzip his bomber jacket, seeing the blotch of red on his white skin-tight shirt. "I'm gonna need you to take the shirt off," you tell him quietly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Sure, sweetheart," he smirks and you scoff, mumbling incoherently at him. Calum lifts his shirt over his head before placing it on the sink. "How's it look, Doc?"

Your eyes widen at the bullet hole in his torso, noticing a graze a couple of inches to the right of it as well. "Cal-" you cut yourself off and quickly gather some medical supplies, needing to make sure if the bullets are still lodged in him or they came out clean.

"Don't worry. They're exit wounds," he reassures you and you take a quick glance at his face, seeing the calm look.

"I guess that's good but at the same time, it's not," you mumble while grabbing a few alcohol pads so you can clean his wounds. "This might sting."

Calum curses as you wipe the pad along the bullet hole, cleaning it before tossing the bloody wipes into the trash. You tape gauze to each wound, making sure they're covered properly before running your fingers through your hair.

"Do you need any pain meds?" You ask him and Calum shakes his head. You nod your head, muttering an okay before leading him back into the living room.

"Could I stay here tonight? Lay low until the morning?" Calum asks and you nod your head, butterflies setting off in your stomach.

"Y-Yeah, you go ahead and take the bed. I'll sleep here on the couch," you tell him and go to grab a couple of blankets when his hand takes a hold of your wrist.

You halt your movements, your eyes staring into his as Calum's thumb gently strokes your wrist. "I'll take the couch," he mentions and you start to shake your head.

"No, no. You need more space for the wounds you have," you try to reason and the blue-haired man smiles down at you.

"Share the bed with me then?" He asks and your cheeks heat up. "It's not like we both haven't been thinking about it."

"I-I… What?! You've… thought about me like that?" You whisper and he tilts his head before licking his lips.

Calum moves his hand to your face, grazing his fingers across your cheekbone. "More times than one," he breathes and your eyes flutter shut, feeling his breath on yours.

His lips were just about to meet yours when a knock on your door pulls you away. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering who it could exactly be since its two in the morning. "Y/N, it's me!" Ashton's voice calls through the door and you let out a sigh of relief.

You start to head towards the door when Calum grabs your wrist again, pulling you back towards him. You go to say something when his lips connect with yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands landing on his chest while you move your lips against his.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it was definitely passionate. You pull away after about a minute and your heart beats erratically in your chest. You smile softly, his forehead leaning against yours for a few moments.

The knocking continues and you move away from the leader, heading towards your front door. You open it to see Ashton standing on the other side and his chest is heaving up and down rapidly. “Oh, thank god,” he breathes and you look up at him confused while he pushes his way past you.

“Ashton? What’s going on?” Calum’s voice calls out and the hazel-eyed man looks towards his boss before bringing his eyes back to you. You feel your cheeks heat up and scratch the back of your neck, clearing your throat.

Ashton shakes his head and reminds himself to bring it up to you later. “We have to go. All of us,” he states and Cal tilts his head to the side, not getting what he means. “Someone betrayed us… again. They know about Y/N. They know where she lives and they suspect she means something to you, Calum. We need to go.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as the blue-haired man clenches his jaw before running his hands over his face. “Alright. Y/N, pack some stuff. I’ve got a cabin that’s tucked in the woods we can go to,” he commands and you nod your head, rushing past the two men towards your bedroom.

Ashton watches you walk away for a few seconds before turning his gaze towards his friend. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he mumbles and Calum nods his head, pulling up his shirt to show off the patched up wounds he has.

“I needed our nurse to patch me up,” Calum chuckles and Ashton raises an eyebrow, humming in response.

You walk out of your room with a suitcase and notice the tension in the room. Your eyes dart between Ash and Cal, the black-haired man giving you a look that screams, "you'll be explaining this later."

The three of you leave your apartment, Calum's hand resting on your lower back as Ashton leads you out. The blue-haired man looks everywhere, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious as we walk towards a black SUV.

Calum grabs your suitcase, going to put it in the back as you get into the backseat, seeing Luke in the driver's seat and Michael in the back seat. Ashton hops in the passenger seat while Cal gets in beside you. Your heart still beats quickly in your chest as Luke begins driving away.

You feel a hand on your thigh and your gaze moves to Calum, seeing the sympathetic look on his face. "Don't worry. We'll keep you safe," he whispers and stealthily presses a kiss to the side of your head.

Taglist: @galcalirwin @myloverboyash @sexgodashton @h0tsos @mysticalhood @gigglyirwin @thebookamongmen @philthepegacorn @frontmanash @tea4sykes @itsasadfishworld @everyscarisahealingplace @talkfastromance4 @maluminspace @creator-appreciator @g-l-pierce @abb-lan-5sos @hemmingslftv @notinthesameguey @another-lonely-heart @strawberriesonsummer @suchalonelysunflower

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destiniesfic · 3 years

Photo

132 Hours, Chapter 2:

“Say ‘please?’”

“Fuck off, Greenbriar.”

“Close enough.”

Read chapter 2 on AO3 or read below:

This is the shape of my nightmares:

My sister Taryn and I are thirteen years old, sick and miserable. We’ve just endured our first heats and stayed home from school for a week with doctor permission. Even now, we feel residual awfulness: headaches and sore muscles. Heats are painful when there’s no one to help you through them, and obviously we’re too young to mate. We sheltered in our rooms, and our adoptive father briefly hired an omega nurse to tend to our high temperatures and help us wrap up in blankets, so at least we felt safe and cocooned.

Everybody knows why we missed school, and they whisper about it behind our backs. Even before we presented, our designation was obvious. The rest of our class—the rest of the school—is alpha kids, and the ones in our year have all started growing out of their baby fat, shooting up like wheat stalks. Taryn and I are only barely taller than we were last year, our cheeks are still soft, and we are gaining weight in our hips and chests. Everything about this is awful. Nothing is fun.

We are outside for gym class. The alpha kids, growing into their bodies, have a lot of extra energy, so they need to spend time circling the track or tackling each other in games of capture the flag. Taryn and I will join them until we get tired, but if we show signs of flagging, we’re benched. Omegas aren’t as sturdy. Omegas break.

Today, the teacher is more generous. During our game of capture the flag, she simply mandates we play defense, guarding the precious flag, and abstain from running around with our classmates. It’s boring, but fine. We get to talk to each other while the alphas tussle among themselves upfield.

Except a few of them are “on defense” today too—the alpha elites, too lazy or too important for gym, who can slack off. As the only two omegas on school grounds who aren’t staff, Taryn and I are categorically beneath their notice, but we know every member of the clique by name: Locke, the son of a wealthy consultant who’s never home, always traveling; Nicasia, whose mom is a senator; Valerian—nobody knows what his family does so we all kind of assume it’s crime; Cardan, the youngest of six heirs to the most absurd family fortune this side of the Rockies.

Already, they are taller than us, stronger than us, looking unfairly sculpted in the autumn sun. Already I am aware of how we are different.

Then the wind blows past me, picking up my hair. And the scene changes.

The first thing I notice when Cardan unexpectedly strides toward me is that he smells amazing. He smells so incredible that I goggle at him for a second, baffled by how I somehow didn’t notice this about him before. I feel a clenching in my stomach and the urge to do something, although at the time I don’t know what. And then, while I am paralyzed by his scent, he gives me a hard shove for no reason, knocking me off-balance.

I land on my backside, an embarrassing but safe place to land, padded with muscle and fat. Our adoptive father always taught us that it’s better to land there than anywhere else, better to suffer a little humiliation than to crack your skull open or shatter your ankle or wrist. It still smarts, but at least the only thing bruised is my pride.

Then Valerian throws his head back and laughs. “That’s where she belongs,” he crows. “On her back, like a good little omega.”

Nicasia thinks that’s hilarious. Locke raises his eyebrows, blinking at us with large, tawny eyes. And Cardan, the instigator. Cardan just sneers.

That sneer has haunted me. I’ve seen it countless times since then. He starts holding his nose when he passes me in the hallway. Whenever I get complacent, he makes sure to whisper in my ear that I reek. He and his friends seem to find it more fun to bully the alphas smaller or weaker than them—omegas already know their place, after all—but that does not protect us when they’re bored, or when said alphas further down the food chain need to take out their own aggressions.

I think they thought it would break me.

They couldn’t know it would do the opposite.

---

“Jude?”

I open my eyes to a darkened room, and groan. I feel vaguely like I’ve been run over by a truck, then the truck stopped and someone picked me up and threw me in the back of it, and we proceeded to drive down a very bumpy road. In other words: like shit. My head throbs, and when I try to sit up, the world spins and I flop back over.

“What happened?” I mutter. Everything is greyish and blurry. Dim light seems to be filtering in from somewhere above my head and to the left, but there isn’t very much of it. I hold my hand up in front of my eyes and squint at it until I stop seeing double.

There’s a relieved sigh from somewhere past my hand. A male voice. “You’re okay.”

I make a second attempt at sitting up and am more successful this time. My shoulder scrapes against a wall to my right, so I lean into it. The light source I clocked before is a small window, longer than it is wide, set high up above me. And on the other side of the room, sitting across from me, sits the dark shape of a boy, or a man, or someone caught eternally in between those two things.

Cardan.

I blink at him. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, you too.” Cardan rubs his eye. He isn’t sneering now. In fact, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen him. His hair is messy—which is nothing new, people are doubtless running their hands through it all the time with how perpetually tousled it seems—but there are circles under his eyes and he looks pale. He’s also bleary-eyed and squinting a little. He doesn’t seem to have any visible injuries, though, although jury’s out on whether that’s good or bad. I’ve often thought he could stand to get pushed around a little more, instead of always being the one to do the pushing.

“I gave you the mattress,” he says, gesturing at what I’m sitting on. “There was only one.”

I look down. I’m indeed sitting on a mattress. There’s no linens, but someone has thrown a slightly scratchy blanket over the lower half of my body. I peer around, dread sinking in as I begin to grasp the severity of our situation. “Oh, fuck.”

“I think it’s ransom,” Cardan volunteers. “I mean, I really can’t think of anything else it would be.”

I hug my arms to my chest and say the thing drilled into every omega’s brain since they’re old enough to wander off from their parents. “What about sex slavery?”

“Yeah, there’s not a huge demand for alpha men on the black market. Although…” He looks down at himself and smirks a little. He’s built like a classical sculpture and he is well aware of this fact. “Can’t blame them if they decided to make an exception.”

It’s impossible to think he’s making a joke about this, not when it’s actually a thing that could happen to me, a possibility that my stepmother Oriana warned us of ever since she married Madoc and inherited his adopted twins. Sex slavers looking to snatch up omega girls became our bogeymen.

But the odds are that Cardan’s right: it’s probably ransom. I imagine people would do and have done worse to get their hands on a fraction of the late Eldred Greenbriar’s billions.

But I say, “Maybe someone finally got tired of you being annoying as shit.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Feeling mouthy, are we?”

“Fuck off. This is your fault,” I accuse, wagging a finger at him. “You did this.”

Cardan blinks at me. “What, you think I kidnapped myself?”

“Not literally.” I slump back against the wall. “Although it seems like something you would do. You love attention.”

“Ah, yes. All of the attention I am getting from you in our cozy eight-by-ten cell. I’m just soaking it in.” He pantomimes splashing water on his face. “Great for the skin.”

“You’re in a playful mood.” But of course he’s feeling better than me. He would have needed a larger dose—of the chloroform? ether? they used on us to get us here—but he also would have bounced back quicker. Everything about alpha biology is kind of extra like that.

“I joke a lot when I’m nervous.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “I am actually freaking the fuck out.”

“Oh, great.”

“I do have water, though. Thought that might interest you.”

I sit up a little straighter. “God, my head is killing me. Yes.”

“Say ‘please?’”

“Fuck off, Greenbriar.”

“Close enough.”

Instead of getting up, which I think for a moment he might, he rolls the half-empty bottle of water across the floor and over to me. It bumps against the edge of the mattress and I have to lean over to grab it, which nearly makes me hurl then and there. The water helps, though. It’s room temp, but even a mouthful makes me feel more like a person.

“It’s not drugged,” Cardan calls. “Surprised you didn’t ask in advance.”

I flip him off. After I’ve drained the last of the bottle, I let myself just breathe, counting backwards from ten in my head. There are many warring emotions vying to tip me over the edge of a panic attack, but I can’t let them. I have to get out of here.

Cardan flicks at a bit of dust on the floor. When I am on three, he interrupts my mindful breathing. “You realize that, technically, we have now swapped saliva?”

“Ew.” I throw the empty water bottle at him and am annoyed when he catches it effortlessly from the air. “Could you be, like, useful for once in your life?”

“Sure.” He leans forward and lowers his voice, like he’s afraid someone might overhear. “There are three of them. One’s a woman, I think the other two are men. The only one I’ve seen is tall and white and barely spoke a word to me. He dropped off the water when I was still groggy.”

That is useful. Dammit. I frown. “Designation?”

“Dunno. Couldn’t get a read on him. I think they might be using maskers for their scents.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I exhale. “Tall” doesn’t have to mean alpha—my sister Vivi, who’s shorter than me, is proof enough of that. But it doesn’t sound good. “Any idea where we are?”

“I don’t think we’ve left Long Island. I don’t know for sure, though. We could be in Jersey for all I know.”

“Right.” I sigh again and rub my temples. “Okay, so ransom. Ransom. You could technically pay the ransom yourself, right? You’re over eighteen—”

“I’m twenty.” When I blink at him, he clarifies, “Repeated sixth grade, remember? And I just had my birthday in July.”

How could I forget? My life wasn’t exactly blissful before he came along, but it definitely got worse when he got bumped down to my year. “Okay, you’re twenty, and your dad died last year. So you’ve got your own money now.”

Cardan raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Real considerate.”

Now is definitely not the time to quibble over manners, but I manage, “Sorry, I guess.”

“Don’t be. He was a dick.” I glare at him, but he ignores me, patting down the pockets of his skinny jeans. “Huh, you know, when they took my phone and my wallet, they must have also taken the special checkbook I keep on me just for hostage situations. Think they’d accept Venmo?”

“Very funny.”

“But the real issue here is that I can’t touch my trust until I turn twenty-one.”

I wish I could say that didn’t interest me, but it does. Sure, Madoc has money. He’s a ruthlessly efficient attorney with killer instincts, and, among other prominent clients, he’s represented Cardan’s dad and both of his older brothers at one point or another. But he’s not among the alpha ultra-rich. Private helicopter rich. Secluded island rich. And I’m nosy enough about how the point one percent of the one percent lives. Anyone would be. So I ask, “Why’s that?”

“Why did my dad do anything?” Cardan folds his hands behind his head. “To make my life difficult, I guess. It was probably to ensure I wouldn’t embarrass myself by buying and crashing seventeen Porsches in a row. Give that frontal lobe time to develop. He’s not here to say. Anyway, Balekin’s the trustee. Maybe there’s some clause about life-threatening emergencies.”

Balekin is Cardan’s oldest brother, but thinking about siblings makes me wonder, with a pang in my chest, about Taryn. What had she done when she and Locke couldn’t find me at the party? Had she panicked? Had she gotten home safe? I don’t want to think about Madoc because he’s probably freaking out in a big way, a side of him I have only seen once before, the last time someone threatened me. It’s more likely that he’ll tear the kidnappers limb from limb than give into anybody’s demands. I hope Balekin has a more level head, although given his reputation for throwing massive parties, I am not counting on it.

“Right,” I say. “So they’ll hit up Balekin for the money?”

“Dude, I don’t know. Honestly? He might have staged this himself to get at the trust, or more likely my stake in the corporation. In some ways, I think it’s better for my family if I disappear.”

It surprises me to hear him say that. “Wouldn’t—that would be a huge scandal, though?”

I don’t say what I think, which is Don’t they love you? But there’s a pretty big age gap between Cardan and his oldest siblings. They could be practically strangers for all I know.

Cardan just shrugs and looks gloomy.

“I don’t think they planned on getting me, too,” I say quietly. There’s only one mattress in the room. One bottle of water on hand for when Cardan woke up. And anyone who thinks they can extort “Mad Dog” Madoc is definitely biting off more than they can chew. But that curdles my stomach, because if Cardan hadn’t chased me down the beach, I probably would have woken up in my lavender canopied bed, safe. Probably with a killer headache from overstimulation, but safe. As safe as I can ever be.

“Yeah,” Cardan agrees, which doesn’t help me feel any better. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

I blow out a breath. “Well, Balekin better pay up in the next forty-eight hours, or we need to figure out how to get out of here. Otherwise we’re going to have problems.”

“We are?”

I swallow. I hate that I have to spell it out for him. But I keep my voice even, casual. “Unless you’ve got spare heat suppressants on you.”

Cardan looks dumbstruck. “Oh,” he says after a moment. “Shit, no. I must have left them in my other jeans with my hostage checkbook.”

I feel myself blush, which is ridiculous. Unregulated heat cycles, messy and inconvenient as they are, are nothing to be ashamed of, as everyone says. Just a quirk of biology. Just the way I am. There’s even a group of pretty radical omega activists out there fighting to destigmatize unregulated cycles, citing the damage that suppressants can wreak on the body. Except my designation is going to be pretty problematic if I’m locked in this room with Cardan for reasons other than societal stigma.

To be honest, it’s already a problem. The room is probably ten feet long, not long enough for us both to lie down across from each other without curling up to avoid touching. I am already hyper-aware of his presence, the nervous drumming of his long fingers, the terrible urge I have to run my fingers through his already messy curls. It’s just chemistry, but if it’s bad now, it’ll be about eighty times worse for both of us if I go into heat.

And if any of our captors are also alphas…

I shake myself all over. I can’t go down that road. I’ll never pull myself back. I’ll just curl up in a little ball and then it’ll be up to Cardan to save us, which, no thank you. “Yeah. So, one way or another we have to get out of here.”

Cardan goes pale. “Jude, I—”

“So we assume nobody’s coming,” I continue. “Use the next twenty-four hours to figure out as much as we can about the people who’ve taken us and where we’re being held, and the next twenty-four to escape. That’s the plan.”

“That’s a reasonable plan,” he says, vaguely startled.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not. You were valedictorian, of course you have a plan. Just, uh, my mind went totally blank when you pointed out you’d—”

“We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” I snap. “I assume you want that just as much as I do.” Which is not at all.

The way he pales further tells me I’m not far from wrong. I mean, he’s always made it clear how much he’s hated my scent, the way I look, the fact that I get better grades than him. He hates pretty much everything about me, because I am an omega and he is an alpha, and that means he should be on top of the world and I should know my place.

I massage my temples, trying to clear my head. “No, we’re going to get out of here before that happens.”

For reasons I can’t pretend to understand, that seems to reassure Cardan. He nods and unfolds his arms, letting his head fall back against the wall. His eyes close. “Okay.”

I am surprised that he seems at all willing to trust me, but I suppose he is pretty low on options. That’s his mistake. Already I am thinking of what a relief it will be to leave him behind, even though I know that, morally speaking, I should be formulating an escape plan for the both of us. Besides, abandoning Cardan to his fate wouldn’t really solve any of my problems. But I wouldn’t have to face his sneer anymore, wouldn’t have to wonder what it would take to convince him I have earned my place when the answer is clearly “Nothing, ever.”

“I just have to figure out how,” I mutter under my breath.

Cardan cracks one dark eye open to look at me, but I ignore him, staring up at the little window. There has to be a way to crack this place open like a nut, and if there is, I’ll find it. There is no other option but this, no other way but out.

I refuse to believe otherwise.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the folk of the air #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan fanfic #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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kieraslifestory · 3 years

Text

Some serious thoughts.

(I may be dumb. But I’m also really confused. And I don’t have a trusted news source. So. Yeah.)

So I’ve heard horror stories. A Lot of horror stories.

I’ve heard horror stories about what Can happen if you get Covid, and equally bad horror stories about what Can happen if you get the vaccine.

And I have no idea what to believe.

There’s crazy things that seem Far too out there to believe, like the guy that made the vaccine type never okaying them for use with humans, or weirdness about you’ll probably die from your genes going crazy. But even if I think these are too crazy with the number of people successfully taking the vaccine and being fine, it’s still a fear that’s now in the back of my head.

Or I’ve heard equally often that 90% of all hospital patients for Covid are vaccinated, And unvaccinated. Different news sources, exactly opposite news.

And I don’t trust anything anymore. So I don’t Have sources to cite, it’s what one person says to me versus another.

I see stories from nurses about how Awful it is in hospitals with the unvaccinated people, and I think I Have to get it. And then I hear about my aunt having unexplained health problems starting right after she got the vaccine. I know my family has a history of heart issues, and I know my blood pressure is regularly far too high, and I hear about a common side effect of the vaccine being problems with your heart. And then I think it’s a good thing I haven’t decided yet.

But then also, even with wearing masks all the time, I’ve had week-long sicknesses like Five Times this summer!! And to Not have that I almost don’t care about side effects, stick me with seventeen different needles.

But then I’ve done a LOT of research into chronic stress (which I definitely have, our family is a Mess) and see that it Most Often causes a whole bunch of random sicknesses to take hold that wouldn’t otherwise. And I think that maybe all I need is to move out.

I don’t know what or who to trust anymore, cause the second I find some people I think I Might trust they say exactly opposite things. And both equally say that the other side always lies.

I just want to Stop Getting Sick.

It’s been Years now. I never used to get sick, I can hardly remember being sick as a younger kid ever. But since we moved here and I became a teenager, and still now I’m more or less sick a solid quarter of the time. I just want it to stop and I don’t know How.

I’m seeing a doctor this Thursday anyway, maybe I just ask and leave it up to him. He’s probably got a better idea than my confused mess of tidbits, anecdotes, questionable news and massive frustration.

I know some family members will Hate it if I get it. And that’s hard to take. But they also took horse medicine. And I think that’s Real Stupid. So.

I guess what’s the biggest thing holding me up is that Covid can be Bad. And that’s a chance I’m taking if I catch it. But I’ve also heard the vaccine can be Bad. And if it Is, then I’m Purposely Getting it. Whereas I’m wearing masks and washing hands and staying inside and trying my best to Not get Covid.

I just feel so turned around in my mind >_<

I’m definitely talking with my doctor on Thursday.

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 4

Hello, and let me once again introduce you to the whimsical world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

As Luz glanced back between Amity’s pale face, and Willow’s nearly bursting rage, the pieces started coming together. With widened eyes, she said, “Wow. She didn’t remember you at all? That is cold.” She shook her head, her cautious respect for the ambitious woman having taken a hit. She bit her lip. “Are you two going to be okay?” She hesitantly asked, her and Gus looking concerned at the reactions of the two girls.

“I-!” Willow started, before pausing, the anger draining out of her face. “I’ll be fine. They aren’t worth the effort.” She said, sounding exhausted and drained. She sighed, smoothing out her dress. “Let’s just get this night over with.”

“Indeed, let’s.” Amity stated, face regaining some hints of color. With that awkward moment finally passing, the group headed into what they assumed was the room Amity had staked out to host the Moonlight Conjuring in. Before too long, the rest of the guests had started coming in: Amelia, Cat, Selena, Bo, and Skara. There weren't many, but they came all the same.

The girls froze upon seeing Luz, Amelia audibly gulping at the sight of her. The group frantically glanced back and forth between Luz in front of them, and Skara, situated at the back. Luz resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t help any. She sighed, “Okay, look, I’m not going to assume I know why you’re all freaked out over me being here, though I do have a guess. I’m the security you were promised, and as long as I’m here, I’ll keep you all safe. Okay?” She finished, a note of hesitance in her voice.

“During the attack, someone I cared about was killed.”

The group turned towards Skara, staring straight at Luz, a blank, empty look in her eyes. Bo reached out, only for her arm to be gently pushed away. She stepped forward. “His name was Batthew. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, and he always went overboard. And now he’s dead.” Her voice sounded hollow, like she had no hope, no joy inside of her at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Luz said softly. If Skara was going to blame her for her friend’s death, she wouldn’t fight it.

Skara lightly shook her head. “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault those maniacs killed him.” She stated, getting bewildered looks from all. Tears started to prick at the corners of Skara’s eyes. “All I want to say is thank you for avenging him. Even if you didn’t fight his killer, you helped stop those sickos, and prevented any more people from feeling the hurt I felt.”

Luz blinked, feeling some measure of relief that she didn’t hate her. That relief quickly shifted to guilt when she reminded herself Skara was grateful for stopping the people who had killed her crush/boyfriend. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen the kind of things the Black Dogs get up to when allowed to rampage.” She shuddered at the mental image. “I was more than glad to stop them.” She said gravely. She and Skara shared a solemn nod at her words.

With that, the tension seemed to bleed out of the room. Amity’s friends were still noticeably nervous around Luz, but it wasn’t anything too bad, and a few, such as Bo, even made an active effort to talk and interact with her.

“No way! Humans don’t have healing magic!?” Bo exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

“Well, sorta,” Luz said sheepishly, scratching her head in embarrassment. “Back in the old days, it was a pretty common tactic of warring groups to attack enemy healers to deprive the opposition of their skills, as well as destroying information sources when capturing them wasn’t an option. Because of that, a lot of forms of magic and magical arts were all but lost, including Healing.” She finished, a soft frown on her face.

“Oh my Titan, that must be horrible!” Bo said, heart aching in sympathy of those whose lives were lost because they didn’t have access to healing magic.

“Yeah, I was honestly a little shocked when I learned that the Isles had healing magic.” Luz chuckled, arms crossed over her chest. “Still, efforts have been made to bring back Healing Magic, with assistance from those practitioners still alive in the world. Last I heard, Fiore, my home country, had actually established a school exclusively for the study and research of Healing Magic!”

“Well that’s a relief,” Bo sighed. “It might’ve come late, but at least it’s there now, and people can go get treatment when they need it, right?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” Luz said, cracking a sad grin. “Just wish it had come a little sooner.” She muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing!”

Willow and Amelia were currently having a discussion about Plants. By all accounts, Willow was giving Amelia some pointers for upcoming assignments, particularly those dealing with more aggressive breeds of plants. Amelia frantically scribbled down the tips and suggestions Willow offered.

“Good, good, I can work with this!” Amelia excitedly exclaimed, relief and joy shining in her eyes. She turned to Willow, an embarrassed smile on her face. “You are seriously amazing at this!”

“It’s just some stuff I’ve pieced together in my free time.” Willow shrugged noncommittally. “I’m happy to share it if people think they need it, I just don’t see anything really special about it.”

Amelia gave a rueful grin, shaking her head. “And that’s why it’s so incredible! You figured all this stuff out on your own, when it took actual, fully-trained adults years to discover this stuff!” She gave Willow a sad smile. “You really are amazing.”

Willow averted her eyes, uncomfortable. Amelia may not have been as… aggressive as Boscha was at even her best, but she was still part of the group that made her school life difficult. But… Willow couldn’t find it in her to stay mad at the girl. She certainly didn’t like her, but she didn’t dislike her either. “Thanks, I guess?” She ultimately mumbled out.

Amelia briefly searched Willow’s face in confusion, before sighing in realization. “Look, Willow? About the whole ‘Half-a-Witch’ thing…” She started, proceeding carefully at Willow’s sharp look.

“Yeah?” Willow drawled, hackles raised.

Amelia bit her lip slightly, before continuing. “I’m sorry. It was a seriously lame thing to do, and to let Boscha and Amity get away with. Even if we weren’t friends, we could’ve done something to try and make things easier for you, but we just went along with it because it was easier.” She turned clear eyes towards Willow’s suspicious gaze. “It may not mean much now, but I will try and make things up to you. If that’s okay with you?” She gave a hopeful smile.

Willow mulled it over… but she didn’t feel any suspicions rousing at Amelia’s words. Sighing, she finally said, “I’m willing to give you a chance. I really don’t know how to feel about you and the others here.” She glanced over at Luz and Bo. “I honestly only came because my parents insisted, and because Gus and Luz were going to be here. But, if you really are serious about being sorry,” She gave a hesitant grin. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” The two shared a nervous laugh. A thought came to Willow. “Hey, do you know why Boscha isn’t here?” She asked.

Amelia gave a snort. “Amity didn’t invite her, and considering how she’s been acting, that’s probably for the best.” She explained, getting a look of mixed confusion and concern from Willow. She elaborated, “Boscha basically screamed her head off at Skara and sent her into tears after she burned her, and she’s been avoiding everyone ever since. And between her and Skara, every one of us chose to stick by Skara.” She finished. Willow pondered the topic. As much as Boscha had caused her grief and some heartache over the years, she didn’t wish that kind of loneliness on anyone. She’d probably talk about it with Luz later.

Gus was surprisingly hitting it off rather well with Cat and Skara. Cat had basically volunteered to be Skara’s backup nurse for when Bo wasn’t around or when Bo just needed to take a break for herself. Skara frankly thought Gus was hilarious, even if she wasn’t really in a laughing mood, as his energy and nervousness gave him a unique air to him.

“-And so yeah, Bo’s a member of the HAS!” Gus finished explaining, getting a look of shared amusement from his conversation partners. “I mean, I guess with everything that’s happened, our group and the Human Roleplay Society is gonna get a lot of dirty looks after the attack.” He concluded, a look of bashfulness and sadness filling his features.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to join the HAS to send a message.” Skara remarked, getting an incredulous look from Gus, and a snort of amusement from Cat. “I’m serious! You shouldn’t be getting harassed because of what someone else did. Plus,” She gave a nervous smile, “It’ll let me hang out with Bo more often.”

“Well, I’m never one to turn away new members!” Gus excitedly cheered.

“I’ll bet.” Cat remarked sardonically, giving a loose shrug.

Unbeknownst to any of the guests, Amity had slipped away, stalking through her home on the search for her parents. The scowl on her face would’ve sent even the toughest of the Isles’ residents backpedalling. She roughly shoved her way past the assorted Abomination servants, utterly unwilling to deal with even the slightest of delays. Eventually, she made it to her father’s workshop, him STILL tinkering over his pet project, her mother calmly sipping her tea next to him while going over some of the paperwork from the family business. “Mother, Father.” She said with tightly controlled politeness.

“Ah, Mittens! How is the party going?” Her mother cordially asked, while her father gave a grunt of acknowledgement as to her presence. Odalia stood up, moving closer, pulling Amity to her side. “I must say, I am most impressed, sweety! Cultivating new relationships for the future with exceptional individuals, a stroke of brilliance!” She said, a proud smile across her face.

“Thank you.” Amity bit out, before continuing, “But what I actually came to talk to you about is-”

“MITTENS!!” Emira’s voice rang out, accompanied by frantic pounding. “GET ME AND ED OUT OF HERE!!!”

Amity turned a confused glance towards Odalia. “Emira was rather adamant about supervising your Conjuring, and when I tried to put my foot down, she… objected, rather aggressively. I had to seal her and Edric in the panic room so they wouldn’t get up to any mischief.” Her mother sheepishly explained, looking both pleased and annoyed at the ferocity her eldest daughter had displayed.

“I can understand locking up Emira,” Amity stated, quirking an eyebrow. “But why Edric?”

“Mittens, we both know he would free her in a heartbeat, if for no other reason than because it is Emira.” Odalia drolly stated, causing a brief moment of solidarity to pass between the two. Yes, they were both very familiar with Edric’s peculiarities and the sheer depth of his loyalty to his twin. “Now, what is it you wished to speak with me about, Mittens?” Odalia finally asked, getting back on track.

Amity breathed in deep, forcibly holding back her anger. “When you spoke with Willow, you implied that you only knew her through our confrontation at school, would that be accurate?” She tersely asked, getting a look of baffled surprise from Odalia, and a raised brow from Alador.

“Well, yes! Where else would I know her from?” Odalia rhetorically asked, a note of borderline condescension coloring her voice.

“Hmm… I must say, that name does seem familiar, but I can’t recall from where.” Alador muttered.

Amity’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here’s a hint. My fifth birthday.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Odalia demanded in bewilderment, even as Alador mulled the hint over.

Alador snapped his fingers in realization. “Ah yes! Now I remember! Willow was the name of one of Amity’s playmates when she was little. When we noticed that she wasn’t developing as fast as her peers, we had Amity sever ties at her… fifth… birthday- oh.” He said, his usual tired expression widening into pale realization, even as Odalia’s own face shifted into horrified realization as the implications sunk in.

“Yes, oh.” Amity echoed, a look of bitter amusement on her face. She turned on her heel. “That was all the confirmation I needed. I believe that I will spend the remainder of the evening seeing to my guests. Mother, father.” And with that, she power-walked away, ignoring her mother’s cries to come back, to talk things over, as if she would. Amity ripped her necklace off, shoving it into her pocket, in no mood to hear her mother’s voice in her head tonight. Yet another blotch had appeared in her mental image of her parents. It was honestly mostly a black smear at this point anyway.

Eda glanced out at the sky, seeing that the Night Market was about to open, if the encroaching darkness was a solid indicator. She called over her shoulder, “Come on, King! We’ve got a shady seller to see about some potions!”

“Weh! I’m ready to go!” King cried, running up to her side, putting on a look of fierce (adorable) determination. She cracked a smirk at that. The two headed out, giving Hooty permission to use any and all means to defend the house in their absence, prompting a delighted shout of excitement from the friendly, if annoying, House Demon. Neither noticed, the heavy figure moving through the branches of the trees, stalking them on their approach to town, nor its bloodthirsty grin.

Luz glanced up from her discussion with Skara at Amity’s arrival to the room. “Hey Blight!” She cheerfully called out, only for her expression to shift into concern at Amity’s gloomy demeanor. “Something wrong?”

Amity sighed, waving off her concern. “It’s nothing, just an unpleasant talk with my parents.”

“Oh no, are they kicking us out!?” Gus exclaimed, a look of panicked despair crossing his face. He turned to Willow, clinging to her dress. “This is it! The moment of hopelessness as our dreams are dashed to pieces! Willow my friend, it was fun while it lasted!” He cried, sobbing into her dress, much to Willow’s exhaustion.

“What!?” Amity asked, baffled, before shaking it off. “No, you’re not getting kicked out, I just had something unpleasant confirmed. Please, you’re free to stay.” She said, bemused at the cheer of relief Gus let out, even as Luz and Willow shook their heads in amusement at his antics.

“Well, I guess it’s about time for me to start doing the job you recruited me for.” Luz said with a joking tone, heading for the door. She flicked a finger gun towards the group. “Save me some snacks for when I get back, okay?”

“Will do!” Willow called back.

Snorting in amusement, Luz made her way to the front door, planning on crawling up to the top of the roof for a vantage point against any attackers. Plus, she thought standing on a roof by moonlight was badass. Chuckling to herself at her inner geek rearing its head, Luz pulled the door open, only to go still at what she saw. Seven humans, all standing outside the door, staring her down. However, what really drew her gaze was the figure in the center, someone she hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Neon!?” Luz exclaimed in shock.

“LuLu!” The girl exclaimed, jumping towards Luz in a flying hug. The blue-haired girl eagerly buried her face into Luz’s side, a look of childish excitement covering her face. “Oh I just knew it was you!!” She pulled back, her face puffing out in a pout. “And here you are, having a fun-time slumber party without me!” She whined, flailing her arms. Luz felt her face go deadpan, even as the others, guards she figured, sighed in exhaustion at the antics of their charge. Yup, this was definitely Neon. Neon crossed her arms, a look of defiance covering her, admittedly adorable, features. “And since I’m here, I’m gonna be joining this party, whether you like it or not!”

“There is absolutely no way I’m talking you out of this, is there?” Luz droned, already resigned to the excitable girl’s antics.

“Nope!”

Amity busied herself with the setup for the Conjuring, intently ignoring the glances the others sent her way. She wasn’t distracting herself from the confirmation that, yes, her parents were callous enough to completely disregard one of the most bitter memories in her life, not in the slightest.

“Hey, guys?” Luz’s voice called out, drawing the attention of the group to the door. “We might have a situation!” Everyone was instantly on guard; Bo, Cat, and Amelia were nervous, seriously wondering if they were in danger, while Skara and Gus grew nervous but steeled themselves, even as Willow and Amity braced themselves for an attack. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but we’ve got some… surprise guests is all!”

With that said, Luz walked into the room. Everyone instantly took note of the girl tightly clinging to Luz’s side, a thin girl, roughly around their age, with messy blue hair held up in a ponytail by a yellow ribbon, a long-sleeved purple striped shirt under a vest, a long skirt going to her calves. She was beautiful, with delicate features that screamed innocence and gentleness, with brilliant blue eyes shining outward. Following behind them were six other humans, all varying in appearance, the only commonality being the immaculate black suits they wore.

“Um, Luz?” Willow tentatively asked. “Who’s this?” She asked, gesturing to the girl tightly hugging Luz’s side.

“Ugh, everyone, this is Neon Nostrade. She’s a friend of mine from the Human Realm. Neon, these are my friends and acquaintances from the Demon Realm.” Luz intoned, introducing the girl to the group and vice versa.

“Oooh!! It’s so amazing to meet you all! I am Neon, heiress of the Nostrade family, and these are my guards!” She cheerfully announced, wildly gesturing to the group behind her. “Basho,” She pointed to the tallest, a muscular man with a cleft chin, pompadour, mustache and sideburns, who gave a friendly wave, “Piper,” a round, short figure with prominently pointed front teeth, long hair with a significant bald spot on top who gave a small nod, “Baise,” a beautiful woman whose hair was done up in an intricate braided top-knot offered a short wave, “Tocino,” A gangly fellow with bright orange hair offered a smile, “Squala,” a darker skinned man with tightly pinned back hair gave a two-fingered salute, “and Kurapika!” The last guard, a handsome young man with rich blond hair, gave a bow, a polite smile on his face. Neon turned a sweet grin to the group. “They keep me safe from meanies who wanna steal my predictions!”

The assembled witches numbly waved in greeting. They all turned to Luz, who groaned.

“Look, I have no idea how they got here, but I can vouch for Neon, and I know her dad screens her guards to an insane degree. They won’t be a risk to us.” She stated, nodding to the group.

“Oh LuLu, you say the nicest things!” Neon cheered, eagerly hugging Luz’s arm.

“LuLu?” Amity questioned.

“Uh huh, LuLu!” Neon eagerly agreed. “LuLu was my very first bodyguard! Originally, papa kept me tucked away so my future husband would be the first person outside the family to see me!” The Witches paled. “But then I figured out fun magic, and papa made a bunch more money than usual, and he said I wasn’t gonna have a husband anymore, and he had his business buddies give him LuLu to protect me!” She cheerfully explained. “After that, LuLu took me into town a bunch and I had lots of fun! I got to shop for my own clothes, and didn’t have to wear dolly dresses anymore, and got to eat yummy food that wasn’t just veggies and water, and I even met a nice man who was getting money for his sick momma’s medicine and I gave him a bunch of money, but LuLu took him into an Alley and gave him her money and got mine back!” She just kept rambling away, even as her guards slumped over in exhausted resignation, a matching expression on Luz’s face.

“Hey, Neon? We’ve got some snacks set up, if you want any.” Luz said, pointing to the tray of goodies.

“Ooh! Yummy!” Neon cheered, rushing for the treats, eagerly stuffing them into her mouth.

The blond guard, Kurapika, spoke up. “Please excuse the Young Miss. She means well, but… she doesn’t have the most experience with the real world, I’m afraid.” He formally stated, giving a deep bow to the Witches. As he pulled up, he added, “I believe it is accurate of me to say that we are very grateful for you allowing us in. When the Young Miss overheard that her friend,” he gestured to Luz, who was currently staring at a wall, dead to the world, “was going to be attending a gathering at night with a group of youths, she insisted we come.” He sighed.

“By all means, this is no trouble.” Amity stated diplomatically, compartmentalizing the barrage of information Neon had blurted out, focusing on the gentlemen before her. Noticing the nervousness of the others, she asked, “Forgive me, but our Isles have recently been attacked by a group known as Oroboros, and everyone is on edge when it comes to humans, and while I mean no offense, I have to ask, do you have any association with them?”

The guards gained matching looks of dark loathing. “No, we do not.” Kurapika stated, his voice a mask of tightly controlled cool politeness. He relaxed slightly as he explained, “We were hired to guard Miss Neon so as to keep her predictive magic from being taken, along with her. While her father is, unfortunately, a high-ranking financier for Oroboros, we fortunately exist outside of that nest of darkness’ command structure.”

Amity nodded, filing away the information. “While I’m not sure how much you can actually say, would you care to explain how you all got to the Isles?”

As Kurapika opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off by Neon’s shout. “We passed through a big gate filled with water, and then Zoop! We were on the Isles!” She cheerfully called over, before resuming stuffing her face. Her guards just sighed, nodding at her words.

“What Miss Neon says is true.” Kurapika stated with a rueful grin. “While we don’t know its precise nature, we entered this Realm through the use of a Water Magic based portal. It was… quite the experience.” He finished, a look of embarrassment crossing his features at some memory.

“Thank you.” Amity said, moving over to Luz, who was still staring a whole into the wall. She pulled in close, harshly whispering into her ear. “That girl mentioned she had been kept in seclusion until her marriage. How old was she to be during it?”

“Thirteen.” Luz growled out. “The fact creep was one of the few people I’ve killed and not regretted, at least not outside the abstract regret of killing at all. I honestly would’ve preferred to expose the corrupt monster, but I had to settle for putting him out of people’s misery.” She turned a burning glare towards Amity. “And Neon’s dad is even worse.”

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asthesamcroflies · 4 years

Text

REQUEST: Shattered

So, I had a request come in via messages, which is fine by the way, I can just post the details of it in order to reply publicly - I have to confess it’s something different for me, but I decided to give it a go to challenge myself. I don’t think I’ve ever written anything with that Son-on-Son vibe before, not for any particular reason, I just tend to have stuck closer to canon. Hopefully it’s not terrible lol - I did end up not going down the smut route, just cause I thought that slightly ambiguous, unspoken feel worked for this. I did kinda get all up in my own feels lol, so fingers crossed you guys like it...

Here’s the request details: Chibs, Tig, Juice (mentioned. Post series.) - Sad, Romantic, Smutty (if you want, it's not required) - 18, 15, 21 Past Chibs/Juice. Prez/VP dynamic. Chibs is shattered, he needs love, he needs peace of mind. Tiggy sees clearly this.

Prompt 18: “Please don’t do this.” 15: “Do you still think about her/him?” 21: “Would a kiss help?”

Shattered

It was late. Or early depending on how you wanted to look at it.

For once though, the Samcro clubhouse lay quiet and deserted. Almost. The new, eager-to-please prospect had tried to stay on to clear up, but had probably been barked at to get the hell out. That was an end to the night that was becoming more and more common – Sons, hangers-on and croweaters slipping away in the face of their stern president’s glare.

His vice president sighed heavily at that, wiping a hand over his face as he leaned in the doorway and took in the slumped shoulders and reaper on the back of the man he’d vowed to support come hell or high water. He could remember a time when the brash Scotsman was the life and rowdy soul of every fucking party.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, huh?

Tig knew, perhaps better than most, what it was to carry guilt, remorse, self-loathing. He’d been there for the near-apocalyptic series of clusterfucks that had torn right to the heart of their club and all but destroyed it, so he knew the burden Chibs now had to bear in trying to see what could be salvaged from the ashes – all while desperately trying not to ignite any simmering embers that could flare up and burn them all to the ground all over again.

But it never got any easier to see him struggle under that weight.

He was about to speak, to make his presence known, when Chibs downed whatever was left in his glass and slammed it down on the bar, before stumbling to his feet and crossing the room to stand in front of the framed mugshots of members past and present, those honoured and those who now hung upside down, crossed out, disgraced and a warning to those who may come after them not to stray too far from the club’s rules, spoken and unspoken.

Tig knew from his own reaction to that wall, once a source of pride, how deep it cut Chibs to see it now. In both their minds, Jax Teller still deserved better than to be remembered solely as having brought shame on the patch. Their young president had lost his way, had made mistakes – catastrophic mistakes at that – but he had suffered for it enough and, at the last, had owned his part in his own downfall. Those he had left behind couldn’t help but cling to their love for their young president, or else what had it all been for?

But they had to put up a façade to appease Packer and the other club presidents. They knew the enormity of Jax’s crimes and the price that had to be paid. It didn’t mean they had to like it.

But as Chibs’ hand reached out for a different photo, touching it lightly before his fingers curled into a tight fist, Tig knew there was a fate that was even more complicated for the Scot to come to terms with. He had loved Jax like a brother, like a son even. Juice … Juice had been something else.

That fist lashed out, shattering glass that bit into flesh and drew a hiss of pain, even through what was undoubtedly an alcohol-induced fog. But despite lifting the hand to examine the damage, despite seeing the shard of glass still embedded in it, Chibs only slowly clenched that fist again, forcing it deeper as blood seeped from the ragged wound.

Tig was the one who winced.

“Please don’t do this,” he blurted out, unable to witness any more of this without intervening.

Chibs slowly uncurled his fingers, never turning around. “Go home, Tiggy,” he murmured, the words slurred and his accent thicker than ever.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m gonna leave you in this fucking state,” his VP scoffed, finally galvanised into action and snatching up what he hoped was a clean cloth as he strode across the clubhouse to take charge. “Lemme see this mess. Jesus…”

He had to force himself to be less gentle than he’d have liked, for reasons he didn’t care to fully explore, but he was still careful as he examined the bloody hand Chibs had been left nursing, tutting over the shard of glass before slowly working it out and pressing the cloth to the wound to stem the bleeding. It looked worse than it was, but it was still bad enough.

“You might get away without stitches,” Tig decided. “So you wanna thank your lucky stars, brother, because I can’t sew for shit.”

“Lucky,” Chibs echoed dully, with a bitter little laugh. “Aye, that’s me – real fucking lucky. I need a damn drink…”

“No, you fucking don’t,” Tig insisted, grabbing him by the shoulders to steer him away from the bar and into a seat.

“Just leave me be, Tigger,” the weary president sighed, raking his uninjured hand through the salt and pepper of his hair. “I ain’t exactly good company right now.”

“What’s new?” Tig snarked, but there was nothing but sympathy and concern in those sharp blue eyes as he sat down opposite his closest of brothers. “You can’t go on like this, man. Ain’t right.”

“Got a choice, do I?” Chibs demanded, the raw agony in his voice and in his brown eyes making even his battle-hardened VP flinch. “Want me to throw up a rope and have done wi’ it? Like… Like Juice.”

Tig stood up so fast his chair overturned with a crash and he jabbed a furious finger in his friend’s face. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he seethed. “Don’t you fucking dare! Tell me that’s bullshit. Tell me you wouldn’t. Tell me!”

“Aye, aye, fine,” Chibs reneged, taken aback even through his haze by the strength of the response to his flippant suggestion. “Fuck, I … I ain’t taking that way out. I ain’t, brother. Sit the fuck down.”

Still furious, Tig glared at him the whole time he was righting his chair and banging it back into place, before sitting down opposite him again. “Asshole,” he snapped, his glare only intensifying when Chibs actually managed a little laugh, wiping his hand over his face.

“Ah, Tigger,” he sighed. “Good to know ya care, brother.”

“Course I fucking care, shithead,” came the heated response. “You think I stuck around for the good of my fucking health? I said I’d always have your back and I damn well meant it. So you don’t get to punk out on me like a little bitch.”

“Your TLC could use some work…”

“Fuck you.”

Chibs chuckled humourlessly. “Love you too, Tigger. You gonna at least let me have one wee drink now me hand’s stinging like a motherfucker?”

“You’ve already had the better part of one wee bottle, by the looks of things,” Tig grimaced, before relenting and getting up to retrieve a couple of glasses and the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, pouring them both a drink and downing his swiftly. He figured he had a lot of catching up to do.

Seeing Chibs’ gaze land somewhere over his shoulder, Tig looked around to follow it back to the photos on the wall and specifically to the one that now hung behind shattered glass. And not for the first time.

“Do you still think about him?”

It was a stupid question, Tig knew that. The answer couldn’t be more obvious. But it was actually the only way he could think to even broach the subject of something deeper.

“I let that lad down,” Chibs mumbled, taking another swig of his drink. “I coulda done somethin’, stopped it ever gettin’ that far.”

“He was a rat,” Tig reminded him, although not unkindly. “That’s on him.”

“He was an easy target,” Chibs shook his head. “He tried to come to me wi’ it. I didn’t hear him out. Not properly. We were all he had and I didn’t listen, didn’t see what was goin’ on in front o’ me own bloody nose.”

For a long moment, his VP could only sit in silence, musing on all the mistakes he’d made in his own life. The hurt he’d caused, to himself and his family, to others caught in his crossfire. He knew what it was to bear that burden. He didn’t want that for Chibs.

“What’s done is done,” he said finally. “Can’t change it, any of it. Can only learn from it. But you gotta let go, brother. You gotta let go or this is gonna eat you up from the inside out.”

“Easier said than done,” Chibs said quietly, his forced smile wry. “You know that.”

“I do,” Tig nodded, after a pause. “But I had you. And you’ve got me. So don’t forget that, you prick. You’ve got me. And I fucking need you. I can’t do any of this shit without you.”

Chibs looked up at the crack in his VP’s voice to find Tig was the one with his head down now. Slowly, he reached out to let his fingers trail through those wild dark curls.

“Oi,” he said roughly. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, you hear me?”

“Didn’t sound like that,” Tig mumbled. “Never does when you start talking like that.”

“Look at me,” Chibs demanded, finally trying to pull himself together at the realisation of what he’d done. “Look at me, Tigger. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I promise you, my brother.”

“How do I know you ain’t just bullshitting me again?”

“When have I ever lied to you? About anything serious?” Chibs demanded, albeit with a swift amendment to account for the creative ways he had been known to get around his VP when he had to.

“You said you’d stop blaming yourself.”

The hurt beneath the accusatory tone stopped the Scotsman dead and he reached out to rest a hand on his VP’s shoulder. “I am trying, brother.”

“I know,” Tig sighed, covering the hand with his own ringed fingers. “I know.”

Chibs pulled him close. “Would a kiss help?” he murmured, already planting a firm kiss on the other man’s cheek.

“You ain’t getting off that light, asshole.”

Chibs could only laugh at that despite himself, his lips grazing skin again. “Ah, Tigger, last two standing… Never thought it would be us.”

“As long as it ain’t just me,” came the quiet, yet fervent response.

It was a sentiment that both warmed and broke Chibs’ heart.

#soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction #soa prompts #soa requests #chibs telford #tig trager #juice ortiz #jax teller

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