#guess who's passing clearances!!!

[joyswonderland1108]

🪖💐 Jikook’s Military Discharge: The Pink Air, The Shared Showers, and Third-Wheeling Lives🌸🚿

✨Hi hello, I hope you're all hydrated, your emotions have recovered, your Jikook heart is intact (doubtful) and your Wi-Fi is stable because��� JIKOOK ARE BACK FROM THEIR MILITARY HONEYMOON—I MEAN SERVICE. And somehow, in true Jikook fashion, even gayer than before.✨

So first things first, our military husbands finally finished their 18-month service, and naturally, chaos ensued the moment they appeared together. It wasn’t even 10 seconds into their joint discharge and these two were already giggling like freshly confessed teenagers at a school talent show. Why were they being all shy and flustered like it was the first day of their arranged marriage?? Also… the bouquet. Jimin got a pink bouquet, his cheeks were pink, his vibe was pink, the literal air around him was pink. The gay radiance was unmatched.

They each gave a little speech because of course they did. And what does Jungkook do? Stands completely turned toward Jimin like it’s instinct. At this point, his magnetic north is just “Park Jimin.” It's like he was absorbing solar power from him. Truly, if Jimin moved an inch, JK would’ve toppled over like a sim whose energy bar ran out.

And THEN they left the base in the same car. THE SAME. CAR. When was the last time we saw them get into the same vehicle like that? Let’s rewind to Vegas 2022. So yeah. It’s giving full circle. It’s giving reunion. It’s giving “we survived the front lines AND each other for 18 months, let’s ride home together babe.”

Anyway, we all waited like starving pigeons outside a bakery while they headed to HYBE to settle in, hydrate, and probably fight over who gets the big towel. Two hours pass, and we get The Live™. That cursed blessed Live. Oh god.

Now, Jungkook told us he doesn’t have much to say. Sounds chill, right? But then somehow spends the next 20 minutes only talking to Jimin. You know, the same man he literally spent 18 months with. Like okay, maybe military regulations banned them from speaking to each other? Maybe they were telepathing the whole time? Either way, it was clear we were third wheeling in that Live. We were just the background audience to whatever romantic sitcom they’re filming.

Apparently, there are still “many stories” they want to tell us, but can’t yet. Because they were tired, hungry, AND they need to confirm what they’re allowed to say. Which honestly just screams: we did some borderline fanfiction-level things and need to get clearance before accidentally confirming your ships. Got it.

Let’s talk about the gay shenanigans:

In classic gay chaos, Jimin casually mentions how in the early weeks of service, he woke up with Jungkook’s face right in front of him. Not even 12 hours post-discharge and they’re already telling us about their morning like it was the morning after prom. And JK? He just “wanted to lean on Jimin.” SIR. We are trying to survive out here. This is not a BL web drama, it’s real life.

JK, without hesitation, hit us with, “I was going to shower but Jimin was busy so I waited.” SORRY? You waited for him to finish… so you could... shower together???Jungkook-ssi, correct me if I’m wrong but this is “buddy enlistment,” not “buddy bathe together.” No one is stopping you from showering except your own inner romantic. That was NOT in the standard issue enlistment brochure. But I guess when you're Jikook, the rules just… don’t apply. WHO WAITS FOR THEIR BRO TO SHOWER TOGETHER??? Now. The shower thing needs to be underlined, bolded, and circled in red. Jungkook quite literally chose not to shower alone because Jimin wasn’t available. Let that sink in. He waited. Like it was a date. Imagine the casual audacity of saying, “Oh yeah I’ll shower after you finish your thing so we can go together 💖” …in front of millions.

Anyway, JK brought out a photo strip during the live. And it was giving couple booth energy. We haven't seen the full thing yet but i hope it's coming, I hope it drops and if it does? We riot in the streets in matching satin pajamas.

Oh and Jimin, baby angel, says: “When we enlisted, we just thought it would be nice to be together.” NO THOUGHTS. NO PLANS. JUST VIBES. They didn't even check the military logistics. They were just like, “Let’s do this thing together, consequences be damned!” Because being apart wasn’t an option, apparently. They didn’t even consider that they might be sent to different divisions or—oh, I don’t know—the front lines?? Because Jikook logic says: “Where you go, I go.” No thoughts, just love and matching buzzcuts. 🤝

And THEN, there’s the legendary tummy poke moment™. Jimin’s stomach growled (same), and JK POKED HIS TUMMY LIKE A FREAKING CARTOON CHARACTER IN LOVE. Cue me screaming into a void.

And THEN we got the moment that truly encapsulates the domestic Jikook energy: Jungkook, ever the soft romantic, tried to feed Jimin a rose petal. Yes, an edible flower, placed delicately on the cake like a metaphor for their whole existence: beautiful, unexpected, a little extra. He picks it up with such intention and offers it to Jimin like he’s recreating a wedding reception moment. It’s the fact that Jungkook saw a flower and thought “Jimin should eat this” that sends me into the stratosphere. Why? Because love is feeding your soulmate flowers on a live broadcast and giggling while doing it.

The entire live was a rollercoaster. Between the giggles, the accidental flirting, the “I missed you even though you were right there” energy, and Jungkook poking Jimin’s tummy like a human teddy bear, I was on the floor. Jimin's hand on Jungkook’s lap while reading comments, Jungkook rubbed Jimin’s neck when he got nervous. IT WAS DOMESTIC. IT WAS INTIMATE. IT WAS EVERYTHING.

Now listen. I don’t like to jump to conclusions but I’m jumping and the conclusion is: they are in love and they don’t care who knows.

And they kept talking to each other. They were so giddy and awkward and shy it felt like we were third-wheeling their post-military honeymoon getaway debrief.

So to summarize:

Jimin: “Woke up JK's face right in front of him in the military dorms.”

JK: “Waited for Jimin so they could shower together.”

Both: “Have so many stories but don’t know what’s safe to share.” (GOD WHAT ARE YOU HIDING)

And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, Jimin says, “We have many stories. We should do this more often.” Oh? Is that a promise? Is that a weekly livestream deal I just heard?? Because if not, I will be suing for emotional damages. That’s false advertising. So guess what? I’m holding them legally accountable. That was a verbal contract, and I’m expecting weekly bedtime story Lives where they spoon under a shared blanket and tell us about the time Jimin made Jungkook ramen at 2AM on base. (It happened. Don’t ask for proof.)

And look. I know some of you are gonna say “they’re just besties” and to that I say: grow up. Jikook are literally in their Soft Military Boyfriends Era™ and if you can’t see it, your shipper lens expired in 2019.

And just when the emotional damage was almost manageable, just when our hearts had barely stabilized, they posted The Selfie™. The discharged, glowing, rosy-cheeked, post-live, shared-car, shared-shower, flower-feeding boyfriend selfie.

Honestly? They didn’t just return from the military. They returned to each other.

Jikook is not just real. They are thriving.

Welcome to Post-Military Domestic Jikook. We are so back.

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part thirty-six: peek-a-boo

word count: 4.3k

warnings: this chapter contains themes of psychological manipulation. reader discretion is advised.

thirty-five | thirty-six | thirty-seven

The car rumbled beneath him, low and steady as the rain smeared against the windshield. Lando adjusted the dial on the heater, elbow propped against the door, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. He was driving steady at some unknown speed, needing the hum of the engine to help him untangle his thoughts. There were so many moving pieces in his head, so much white noise.

He was interrupted from his own thoughts when his phone buzzed against the center console: Logan.

Lando picked up, pressing it to his ear.

“Talk.”

“Are you alone?” Logan’s voice was lower than usual.

No nonsense. Good.

“For now.”

Logan’s voice came through, crackling slightly through the speaker. He was breathless, but there was an edge to it — anticipation, maybe, or dread.

“You’re gonna want to hear this.”

Lando sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. “Spit it out already.”

A rustle on the other end. Oscar’s voice chimed in next, calmer — more clinical. The Aussie always could be trusted to get straight to the point. There was a reason that Piastri was the one Lando trusted to keep a pulse on everything – and perhaps more importantly, to balance out Logan.

“You remember that Tuesday — the one where you said you were being followed? When you cut through the back streets and ended up at the girl’s café?”

Lando’s jaw flexed, not saying a word. Oscar took the silence as clearance to continue.

“There’s CCTV. Six days before Margot’s death. Someone was loitering across the coffee shop around closing, basically the same time that Y/N locks up.”

“And?” Lando’s voice was smooth, detached. But his fingers drummed against the steering wheel, once, twice.

“We couldn’t get a clear shot of the guy’s face in those stills,” Logan interjected, “but the build’s familiar. He looks slight, stands with his shoulders back. Kinda twitchy, and probably around my height. We thought it could be Enzo, maybe Arthur.”

Lando exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the window. “Enzo’s been in this business a long time, he knows better then to pull some shit like that. I may not like him, but evn I know he plays by the rules.”

He stopped for a moment to consider the alternative. “And if we’re thinking Arthur… Well, the kid’s not cocky. He wouldn’t be that bold, showing off like that. That’s more like Charles’ style.”

“No,” Oscar considered, “you’re right, he’s too new to confidently pull something like that…”

There was a moment's lull while he tried to piece together what he felt like he already knew, just needing to connect the ideas in the right order. 

“But…” Oscar continued suddenly, a lightbulb going off in his head. ”Maybe he isn’t that cocky, but maybe he is that stupid. You remember that day you thought you were being followed?”

“I led them to her,” Lando muttered, mostly to himself. “Fuck.”

Logan jumped in again, eager to add to the discovery. Everything was beginning to make much more sense than it had in weeks. “Osc and I also pulled traffic cams from two nights before the shooting. Guess who was seen three blocks out?”

Lando didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

“Arthur.”

Lando exhaled slowly through his nose. “Arthur Leclerc?”

“Yup. Clean shot of him walking with a duffel bag. Same red jacket from the pier photo. Ballistics haven’t matched yet, but…”

“It’s him,” Lando stated, quiet and certain. “It has to be.”

A beat passed. The rain only intensified.

“And Margot?” Lando finally asked.

Oscar hesitated. “Ballistics came back — clean match to a weapon registered to the Leclercs' private armory. Restricted, but not unique. Guess who last signed it out?”

Lando didn’t answer. He already knew.

“Arthur.”

His grip on the wheel turned his knuckles white. “How long were they watching?”

“Hard to say. Maybe days. Maybe longer.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?” His voice dropped, more lethal than loud.

“We didn’t have the link until today, Norris,” Logan snapped back. “We’re not sleeping out here, Norris. You’re not the only one who cares.”

Lando didn’t respond. He couldn’t. That knot behind his ribs had already begun to burn.

“There’s more,” Oscar added carefully. On the other end, he shot Logan a wary look, knowing full well their boss wasn’t going to take this next information well. 

“We’ve been monitoring a few encrypted comms going out from the Leclerc side. There’s chatter about a meet tonight — late. Supposed to be a small crowd. Not security, more of an off-the books thing with just the key players. I think it’s some kind of negotiation with a new supplier.”

Lando’s gaze sharpened. “Where?”

“South Docks, the warehouse off Pier 17. The new guy – some supplier apparently – he goes by Nemo. Logan double-checked and he doesn’t show up on anything except a few old import documents and a long-dead crypto chain. Whoever he is, he’s new blood — and very careful.”

Lando scoffed. “Calls himself Nemo? Bit dramatic, innit?”

Logan laughed dryly. “Yeah, pretentious as hell, for sure. Probably thinks he’s being clever. Like, No one? Come on, like, at least be creative, right?”

Lando ignored the question entirely. “And you’re sure Arthur will be there?”

“No,” Oscar said firmly. “But someone will be. Someone who can confirm it.”

Lando’s mind sharpened like glass under pressure. Everything inside him was already whirring, buzzing, calculating all of the possible angles, risks, proximity. Tonight could very well change everything.

As Lando became occupied in the chamber of his own thoughts, Logan took the opportunity to ask, “Hey, Boss. You want us there?”

“No. No, you’ve done enough. I need this one to be quiet. Not much to it, yeah?” He clicked his blinker, merging left as the rain picked up once again.

Oscar’s voice softened just slightly, but his words were blunt, accented with his trademark directness. “You’re not gonna to do anything reckless, are you?”

Lando smirked, humourless. “What about me makes you think I ever play it safe?”

“Careful, mate. You’re almost starting to sound like the old you.”

Lando didn’t deny it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll handle it.”

“You’re just not the same without—”

Lando cut him off. “I said I’d handle it.”

Silence.

Then, after a beat, Logan added, his voice an octave quieter this time, “Don’t be late.”

The call ended.

Somehow, they were on the floor. Again.

Not the couch, not the bed, not even the worn armchair that creaked when she curled into it. No —  tonight, it was the living room rug, some half-fuzzy thing she'd thrifted ages ago, the kind that caught lint and comforted bare feet. A quiet movie played on her laptop, propped up on a stack of books. The living room lights were off, save for the soft, amber glow of the standing lamp.

Y/N’s body was sprawled across his like it belonged there, like an octopus’s tentacles draped lazily across its favorite rock. 

It’d be kinda cool to be her favourite rock, wouldn’t it?

She hadn’t even asked this time. She’d just flopped onto him like he was her designated mattress, letting out a content sigh that made his chest do that annoying flutter thing he kept pretending wasn’t a real feeling. 

It was quite inconvenient, really.

He wasn’t sure when it started — maybe the first time she fell asleep curled up against him while they watched their daily episode of some home renovation show she’d found on Netflix. But somewhere along the way, she’d somehow ended up creating a habit of using him as a nap surface. Couch, bed, armchair — it didn’t matter. If he was still, warm, and breathing, she was probably half-draped across him within the hour.

Right now, she was lying across his chest on the living room floor, the carpet flattened beneath them, both too full and too lazy to move after the impromptu pasta night they’d cooked together. Her cheek was pressed to his collarbone. His fingers toyed absently with the ends of her hair.

She’d been doing that more lately—using him as furniture. Neck tucked into the crook of his shoulder, arms folded beneath her like a cat. Her head pressed to his chest, slow breaths syncing with his. Not quite a relationship. Not quite not. Not exactly cuddling. Not not cuddling either.

Just her weight against him, warm and familiar, like trust.

“Christmas is coming up,” she said suddenly, her voice soft from the edge of a half-yawn.

He looked down at her. “Is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you absolute grinch. We should do something.”

“What, like presents n’ shit?”

“Yeah, silly,” she said, sitting up just enough to poke him in the ribs. “It’ll be fun! We can make dinner and decorate cookies, and– oh! You’d look so lovely in a little Christmas sweater.”

His grin pulled, slow and smug. “Little? Sweetheart, there is nothing little about me…”

“I– Oh my God, you are so gross!”

He laughed as she smacked his arm with a throw pillow.

“And yet you keep me around anyway,” he said with a grin, nudging her gently. “C’mon, admit it. You love me—”

“Right, that’s it.” She sat up suddenly, just enough to start halfheartedly pushing at his chest. “Get out. Go on. Out the door.”

She began pushing at his shoulder dramatically, trying to shove him toward the door despite his zero cooperation and significantly greater body weight. He laughed, but caught her wrists before she could fully dislodge him.

“Oi! Okay, okay,” he said, laughing, hands up in surrender. But something in his chest flinched — small and sharp. Not real panic, but something like the memory of it. He cleared his throat, eased his voice low. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Happy?”

She stopped mid-push, flopping back down onto him with a huff of faux exasperation and a smile like sunshine peeking through curtains. “Very.”

He let his hands drop, and she settled back beside him — not quite touching this time, but close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm. They had switched to some Hallmark movie now, the screen playing some generic rom-com snow scene where everyone wore matching scarves and nobody paid rent.

Somewhere between reaching over to fidget with the laptop’s volume and adjusting the blanket, her head found its rightful place against his shoulder again like it had always been there. Her eyelids fluttered once, then settled. He let his hand rest gently at the bend of her knee, warm beneath the blanket.

For a while, it was just soft TV noise and the patter of rain. Her breathing slowed. Her hand drifted to rest just under his collar, fingers curled gently into the fabric.

Minutes passed by like that — soft, unrushed. Her eyelids began to droop after a while. Even though she’d promised not to fall asleep before the end of the film, he could feel her beginning to nod off again.

Just as he’d begun contemplating pausing the movie for them to continue some other time, he heard her voice, barely above a whisper: “Li?”

He hummed in response, eyes still on the muted screen.

“Do you think we could have a real Christmas this year?”

His eyes flicked down to her. His heart stalled a little. “What d’you mean?”

She hesitated, eyes still closed. “Like in the movies. I always wanted a Christmas like that.”

His voice gentled. “How d’you mean?”

“With lots of people. And laughter. And food.” Her fingers twitched lightly in her lap, like she was tracing something only she could see, fingertips chasing a figment of a lingering dream. “Y’know. Like a real Christmas.”

She said it like she didn’t think she’d ever had one.

Lando swallowed something bitter in his throat. He thought of his own fractured memories—winters spent under broken street lamps and makeshift roofs, his knuckles raw from cold and fights. Holidays were just colder days with louder sirens.

He looked over at her, curled small now against the side of him.

“Don’t you worry about it, princess,” he said softly. “We’ll have us a nice Christmas, yeah?”

She didn’t answer right away. But then she smiled sleepily, her eyes still closed. 

“...We will?”

“Yeah. We will.”

“Okay,” she whispered, something soft and sacred, as her body settled in closer. Sleep found her just seconds later, slow and sweet. With the pattering of the rain, the hum of the heater, and the steady beat of his heart as her lullaby, she fell asleep against his shoulder, warm and content.

Lando let his head rest against the cushion again. He stayed like that a while — watching the water droplets race down the side of her windows in the faint blue light of the screen against the endless backdrop of the dark night sky, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, and wondering what it would feel like to deserve something like this.

Something warm. Something real.

Something like a Christmas worth remembering.

Half an hour after Lando was semi-successfully able to peel the warm body practically glued to him (he’d had to resort to leaving a misshapen, him-shaped lumb made of blanket in his stead, and even then she’d grumbled in discontent), Lando was pacing the length of the warehouse rooftop.

He proceeded to occupy himself with every other minute, mind-numbing task he could think of.

Checking his watch. Scanning the perimeter. Checking his watch. Listening for potential footsteps. Checking his watch.

Unclipping his mag, tossing it in the ait, catching it with his backhand, and clipping it back in, all in one smooth motion.

And checking his watch again.

Finally, it had been over an hour.

For fuck’s sake.

Yet still, the docks below were quiet. 

Too quiet.

Lando paused, steadying even his breathing to ensure he was hearing correctly.

Yup.

There was no chatter. No footsteps. No approaching headlights. There was just the sound of the sea slapping against rusted shipping containers and the occasional creak of metal in the cold night.

He’d gotten here well before the meeting time, and yet still — nothing.

Logan had gotten the tip two nights ago – overheard from a slippery supplier with a penchant for whiskey and oversharing. He’d then confirmed it from a second source, a friend of a someone who knew one of the Leclerc Palace guards – the Leclercs were scheduled to meet the shadowed figure still known only as Nemo, supposedly a foreign manufacturer who liked to operate offshore, both literally and figuratively.

It had sounded promising. 

Too promising.

Looked like someone had perhaps tipped them off to Lando’s little visit.

Fuckin’ hell.

He’d been circling smoke for days.

A flash of license plates in CCTV. A glint of silver paint from a trailing car in the corner of a café’s security footage. A warehouse employee’s offhand remark about shipments being rerouted through “Il Predestino’s” docks. All roads that once led somewhere now suddenly led nowhere.

Every time he thought he had a lock on Leclerc, the bastard vanished like a ghost, leaving behind nothing but cold cigarette stubs and the distinct sense of being watched.

Lando was seething. The kind of slow, volcanic fury that sat in his spine and burned all the way to his fingertips. He hadn’t stopped moving. Had barely slept. His hands smelled like gunmetal and bitterness. His eyes were bloodshot, but clear – clearer than they’d been in weeks.

Every safehouse he checked, every pier he scouted, every pub he frequented,  he looked for them, but the truth seemed to be that the Leclercs had vanished.

Daniel was gone. Margot was gone. And Leclerc was still breathing.

Oscar had called it "a string of bad luck." Logan called it the signature of “il predestino.”

Bullshit.

He wasn’t interested in fate. Only facts. And facts meant leads.

So when a tip finally came in about the rescheduled meeting with Nemo — the elusive third-party manufacturer Leclerc had allegedly been courting — he didn’t even hesitate getting back in his car and speeding over to the given coordinates.

Dock 17. Midnight. An abandoned dock. No cars, no guards. Just cold wind, stale seawater, and silence so loud it made his teeth grind. 

He had arrived early. Waited in the shadows. Boot pressed to the pavement. Heart steady, hand on his gun.

Midnight passed. So did twelve-thirty. By one, he knew.

The warehouse was empty.

He stalked inside anyway, boots echoing against the concrete. He had expected shadows. But all he had gotten was a whole dockload of nothing. There were no crates and no men. There weren’t even any whispers of movement. All that he found was just a small, thick paper envelope left where a beam of moonlight caught it like a spotlight. Lando might’ve almost missed it entirely, if not for the flicker of white catching in the corner of his eye.

He opened it. Inside, he discovered a single flash drive tucked inside the weatherproof casing of a nearby buoy, like all this was some kind of goddamn scavenger hunt.

He should’ve known.

He did know. Somewhere beneath all the desperate hope that tonight might bring him one step closer to vengeance, something in his gut had already clenched the second he saw how still the water was. 

Still water. Still air. Still nothing.

He jammed the drive into his phone with shaking fingers. It played instantly.

The video was grainy, a rough silhouette standing in front of what looked to be the bottom of some old, grandiose painting. However, the voice was unmistakable — Charles Leclerc’s smooth, cruel tone curling with arrogance and smugness.

What I wouldn’t do to–

“There is no Nemo, Norris. Clever of you to figure that out. Latin… it is not dead yet, eh?”

He appeared to find his own joke quite funny, holding a palm to his chest as he took a moment to laugh at his own supposed cleverness before finally speaking again.

“Ah Lando,” he smiled, all boyish and handsome and charming before it dropped into something darker, more sinister. “It is like this, oui? I know what you want. You want to hear someone say it, don’t you? Alright then. All this blood is on your hands. Yours.

Lando Norris, you knew what you were doing the second you brought her into your world. And the second Margot opened the wrong door. You knew what would happen to them!”

The smug bastard had the audacity to laugh then. He laughed.

Lando was going to kill him.

The video was not yet finished. It seemed that the Monagasque still had more to say. 

“So chase me, if it makes you feel better. Set the whole goddamn city on fire. I do not care. I will still be ahead of you, Lando Norris. Always.”

“Sleep well.”

The video ended.

Taking the small thumb drive out of his phone, Lando stared at it for a full minute.

Then it hit him.

Nemo.

No one.

There was never going to be a meeting.

No manufacturer. No shipment. No allies. Just Leclerc pulling his strings and probably watching from some gilded corner, laughing himself hoarse. He’d fed Lando a ghost chase, and Lando had swallowed it whole. He could feel the bile rise in his throat.

“You son of a bitch,” he whispered.

Lando didn’t realize his hand was clenched so hard that the drive cracked in two.

He stood there too long, the wind needling through his jacket, face blank with rage. He crumpled it up even tighter in his fist, letting its uneven and jagged ends dig into his skin like some kind of penance for the foolishness he felt twisting in the pit of his gut, the shame and fury that sparked alongside it.

The whole damn thing—this entire wild goose chase—had been another breadcrumb on a leash. A show of power. A taunt.

Charles Leclerc had played him.

Lando laughed. Just once, sharp and humorless.

Then he crushed the drive to pisces in his fist, turned, and threw it into the water with such force his shoulder popped.

Charles Leclerc was playing him like a goddamn fiddle. And he’d let it happen, like a puppet dancing to strings of grief.

"Fuck," he rasped under his breath, the word tight and hoarse.

He could feel his pulse in his temples. His breath came short. His throat burned with something animal.

Then—

He screamed.

Loud. Wordless. Raw. His voice echoed off rusted shipping containers and oil-stained pavement, carved through the cold like a blade. He kicked the nearest crate so hard his boot cracked against metal. He punched a wall and left blood behind.

He could still hear Daniel’s laugh.

Could still see Margot’s smile.

He'd been played, toyed with, outpaced by a ghost in a fucking tailored suit.

The blood isn’t mine, he wanted to scream. It’s yours. Yours!

He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking until he got back into the car and gripped the steering wheel like it had personally betrayed him. His phone buzzed—probably Oscar or Logan again, with another non-update—and he chucked it into the passenger seat. 

Blood on his hands? The bastard didn’t get to say that. Not after Margot. Not after Daniel.

No—he wasn’t going to keep circling this game like a trained dog.

The entire damn meeting had been a setup, a trap designed to make Lando look like a fool. A distraction. A calculated move to keep him running in circles, while Leclerc played his hand behind the scenes.

Lando’s chest was tight with fury. He could feel his blood heating, his pulse hammering in his temples. He wanted to throw something. Punch something. Rip apart the docks until nothing was left. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let the anger cloud him, not when he was so damn close.

The only thing he could hear in his mind was the sound of his own voice saying, I’m done.

The bastard had been playing him all along.

And now Lando was done being played.

Lando was sitting in his car, the engine still idling, his fingers drumming rapidly against the steering wheel, furious and restless. He was tempted to text Oscar, or Logan, or anyone who could give him a chance to see reason, to talk him out of committing bloody murder. 

But he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want anyone to tell him he was overreacting. And most importantly, he didn’t want anyone to stop him.

The only thing he could hear in his mind was the sound of his own voice saying, I’m done.

His eyes narrowed as the thought hit him. He knew where Leclerc would be next.

There was only one place that mattered now. The only place so sacred that even he’d never thought to take the fight there before. 

After all, Lando Norris was many things – a thief, a killer, a liar, a con. But even despite all these things, he was still a man, and even criminals had codes. 

There were personal ones, sure, but there were also fundamental rules to this life just as there were rules to war. They were not moral or good or kind. They weren't just, and they were barely fair. But these rules were the only things separating the madness from destructive chaos, acting as the thin line between simple business and unparalleled, boundless bloodshed.

And of the most basic of these rules? 

A man’s house is his castle.

Their house is not to be messed with, no matter the dispute. Personal or professional, no sane man would invite the carnage that would come from taking the fight to the doorstop of a man to whose home you have arrived uninvited. There was little sympathy for a fool who knowingly walked into an enemy’s den unwelcome and then expected civility.

But at the moment, The Reaper was all out of civility.

He threw the car into gear, tires screeching against the asphalt as he peeled out of the dockyard and shot down the road. Every turn he made, every corner he whipped around, only fueled the rage simmering in his gut. He drove straight to the Leclerc estate, to the house that sat perched above the city like it owned the world.

He wasn’t going to stop until he got what he needed:

His pound of flesh.

The drive was a blur. He barely remembered the turns, the lights, the sound of tires screeching on wet asphalt as he tore across the city, past half-lit storefronts and shuttered windows. The Leclerc estate sat on the edge of old money and arrogance—a marble-clad fortress with ivy-covered gates, the kind of place that wasn’t a home so much as a monument to legacy.

He parked crooked on the curb like he didn’t give a shit about parking laws. When Lando climbed out, he marched straight to the intercom panel without so much as a pause.

It was late now, nearly 2AM.

He rang.

Nothing.

He rang again, this time holding it. 

Still nothing.

Somewhere in the shadows, a motion light flicked on. Lando barely blinked. His jaw was tight enough to creak, fingers still twitching from the adrenaline that hadn’t found a place to settle. 

He knew how insane this was – showing up like this with no backup, no guarantee the gates wouldn’t open to armed guards.

But rage had never cared much for reason.

Finally, he stepped back., just far enough to see the upper windows. From here, he could see one light on, maybe a hallway. Maybe someone was watching.

He raised his voice, shouting to any living soul that’d hear him.

“Tell your prince,” he bellowed, “I’m done playing.”

The light clicked off.

Lando didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He just stood there in the cold, breathing heavily, letting the wind bite through his jacket. The tension inside him wasn’t a scream — it was quieter, darker. It rumbled like the incoming storm, a pressure behind the ribs, crackling with promise.

He wasn’t backing down now.

Not even if it killed him.

a/n: hello im so sleep sorry if this is not edited properly my eyeballs are too tired. hupe you guys like it!

[vivalas-vega]

fine line / part two

decided to post all four of the parts I have written - cannot confirm when the next parts will be coming but this is kind of our setting stage and feels like a good dump before we get into the rest of it. please please please let me know what you think!

fine line / mcu x reader / part two

part one

summary: Three kids from Brooklyn. A war that asks too much. And a woman with secrets stitched into every seam.

to be tagged in future works, please turn on post notifications for @vegaslibrary

word count: 1k

warnings: (not specific to this part, but for the series as a whole. this fic is 18+, you are responsible for your own media consumption). language, angst, drinking, smut, violence, references (and descriptions) of bucky's abuse within hydra, canon-typical situations - this is the mcu y'all, shit will get a little crazy, and a little devastating

Summer, 1943

The streets were quiet, the lights of Brooklyn casting long reflections in the puddles still hanging on from an early morning rain. You moved through the dark with your collar turned up and hands shoved in your pockets, a folded note pressed tight between your fingers. 

Tomorrow morning. Project Rebirth. S.R. is the candidate. Figured you’d want to know. Word is, you’re leaving.

You knew who it was, the contact who’d arranged your intelligence drops and off-the-books assignments since the start. He was the only person in this new world you were joining that you trusted to slip into your shop while you were away, the only person who knew exactly where you looked for secret messages.

You had been confused when you first read it, surely this couldn’t be about Steve Rogers. Your Steve, the one you’d known what felt like your whole life. But really, there was no other S.R. this could be about, frankly no one else you would care about. Steve was the only one left on this side of the world with a piece of your heart. You had to stomach the fact that your best friend was signing up for something you’d only heard whispers about… something that sounded like the ramblings of a mad scientist.

You slipped into the compound with a forged clearance badge, hidden in the envelope along with the note, and a stolen file folder. Your face wasn’t one most recognized, and those who did knew to pretend they didn’t. Whatever you were here for hadn’t crossed their desks so it wasn’t their place to interject, and you were trusted. Valuable.

As you walked down the hallway you passed an older man muttering something about a drink, who gave you nothing more than a distracted nod. He didn’t stop you, no one did. You found Steve sitting on a cot in a white undershirt, bent over a book he wasn’t really reading. His hands were fidgeting in his lap and there was a pinched look to his expression that you knew all too well.

“Bad time?” you asked from the doorway.

He looked up, startled, and then softened when he saw you. “Button,” he started, standing so fast the book hit the floor. “What are- how did you-”

“I know people,” you replied simply, stepping inside. “One of them thought I might like to know you’ve signed up for a top secret government project.”

He gave a small smile, ducking his head as bashful as ever. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“I guess it is.” You walked over slowly, taking in the slight tremble in his fingers, the tension in his shoulders. He looked like a boy playing soldier in boots two sizes too big. It broke your heart.

“You okay?” you asked, quieter.

He gave you a look, “you think I’m scared?”

“I think you’ve been scared every day of your life,” you said, “but it’s never stopped you.”

Steve’s breath caught. He sat back down and searched your face like he didn’t know whether to thank you or beg you to stay. “What if it doesn’t work? Or worse- what if it does work and I become something I’m not?”

You sat beside him, close enough that your knees bumped. “You’re already strong, Steve. This won’t turn you into something new, it’ll just show them what Bucky and I already see.”

He turned his head, studying you. “You’ve always believed in me.”

“I have,” you said, smiling softly. “I’m glad someone else finally does, too.”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” He swallowed. “This is a goodbye.”

“No,” you replied. “It’s not a goodbye, it’s… It’s an I’ll see you after the war.”

“What if I don’t see you after the war?”

“You will,” you reassured, even though you were in no position to make promises.

“Bucky didn’t want you to,” he tried, jaw tense.

“Bucky’s not the only one that gets to fight,” you said, voice soft. “And you- you’re finally going to be seen the way I’ve always seen you. You’ll be off to fight, too. I can’t be left here, with the ghosts of both of you haunting me on every street corner. We’ve all got jobs to do, Steve.”

He exhaled hard. “You’ll be careful?”

“No,” you replied with that mischievous smirk of yours. “But I’ll be smart.”

He chuckled, quiet and rough. “You always were. Too smart, maybe.”

You reached a hand out to rest on his cheek for a soft moment, knowing the next time you saw him, if you saw him, he wouldn’t look like this. He wouldn’t look like your Steve. “Don’t do anything stupid tomorrow.”

“I can’t promise you that, Button,” he said and you let out a quiet laugh.

“If something goes wrong…” you hesitated as your hand fell, not wanting to finish the thought.

He met your gaze, eyes steady. “I’ll find my way back. I promise.” It wasn’t the first promise you’d heard this week, but it settled you all the same. If these boys of yours promised you something, they’d do everything in their power to follow through. You trusted them to keep their word.

You shifted quickly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for a tight hug, and though surprised he immediately reciprocated. “I love you, Steve Rogers, you know that?” you asked. “And even if this war separates us, I want you to know that I’ll always believe in you. I’m always proud of you.” 

Those small arms of his squeezed you with a might you didn’t know he was capable of before he pulled away, “me too, Button.” he said, and you knew that was all he could muster right now. You’d promised this wasn’t a goodbye, but it was. You both knew it. You stood and took one last look at him- the boy who’d never stopped trying, and for the first time all week you felt something close to relief. He would be okay. He’d be more than okay… and you could leave without feeling like you were abandoning him.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Rogers.” You smiled, small and steady, just for him.

“See you on the other side,” he said, and he seemed like he just might believe it.

prev part / next part

[graylinesspam]

Nightstar filled into the airlock with the two other metas.

Her period had been kicking her ass all day. She muscled through it, helping with repairs to the watch tower. But the lack of gravity was not helping. They were breaking for lunch but honestly she just wanted to curl up in a ball. Or maybe puke.

She leaned again the wall of the airlock and tried not to barf as gravity suddenly grabbed hold of her. The other junior members wandered towards the cafeteria but the smell, even from this distance only made her feel more sick.

She turned in the opposite direction. Maybe she could curl up in uncle Vic's lab, in a dark quiet corner. The halls were mostly empty this high up. Most didn't have clearance for these levels. Perks of being related to the guy that built the building.

The lab was locked when she happened by. And a conference room nearby smelled like sandwhiches in a way that turned her stomach. She needed some painkillers that would work with her biology. And a nap.

Down the opposite end of the hall was the council chambers. The doors were open, john john and Barry talking outside.

Mari peaked inside. No one seemed to be tense. They were all relaxing and chatting. No planning or anything confidential seemed to be going on. Just a few higher ups getting together.

Only a handful of members were present anyways. Not even Supes or Diana. Wally was here though and smiled at her when he glanced over.

At the very head of the table was B. His mouth curled down in his 'dealing with the league scowl'. He was squinting at his tablet looking so much like an old man that had forgotten his glasses.

She shuffled into the room passing green arrow who raised his brow at her. B clearly saw her since grunted once as she approached. He was tapping at the screen with one finger, only minorly frustrated.

He didn't look up when she stopped at his side, always more focused on his screens.

Overwealmed with a cramp Mari leaned over. Bracing herself with one hand on the back of his chair and resting her forehead on his shoulder. He tapped away at the screen several more times as she rode out the waves. When she'd relaxed a little, no longer squeezing her eyes shut against the pain he grunted out one word "sit" and kicked the adjacent chair out for her.

She sat. head resting on the table by his elbow. Jeez, would these cramps ever let up?

"Are you injured?"

wow a whole sentence, he does care. "No, just bleeding." She mumbled against the linoleum table top.

There was a pause. "Your monthly?"

"Yeah, do you have any of my painkillers?"

"hmm"

He tapped away at his screen again and though it could have been a dismissal, Mari knew it wasn't. B would take care of something this simple for her.

She dozed, or maybe just zoned out. The pain wouldn't really let her get near unconsciousness, but she zoned out enough for her breathing to even and her senses to relax around the edges.

It was warn in the space between her arm and the table. Her breath making her face flush. Or maybe she was developing a low grade fever.

She was brought back by the touch of a hand on her back. B's wide palm smoothing over the space between her shoulder blades.

She lifted her head and felt briefly embarrassed by the condensation that had accumulated on the table's surface and her cheek, from her warm breaths.

On the table beside her was a cup of water and a pill, the little star shape pressed into it told her that it was one of the ones specially formulated for her.

She pinched it between two fingers and popped it in her mouth, chasing it with the cup of water.

"Express meds delivery?" Wally commented. "Pampered princess."

Donna, who Mar'i only just realized was standing beside her chair giggled. "Bat privileges I guess."

Mar'i snorted through her nose and leaned her head back into B's side, his forearm turning and becoming a reasonably resting place as he twisted the angular parts of his armor away from her.

"Wait, she's a bat?" Ollie's tone was bewildered.

Mari shook her head and pointed to her chest where the eight pointed star spread wide. "I don't wear a bat." She mumbled into the table top.

Doesn't make you immune to the perks though does it?" Donna joked.

"ermmgh" mari hummed into the table top. Already bored of this conversation.

"Just how many damn bats are there now?" Hal groused.

"Like four right?" Wally guessed.

Donna hummed, "depends on what you count as a bat."

"What's the criteria for that? Wears a bat symbol? Was a Robin?" Dinah took a seat next to Ollie, joining the discussion.

"Well this one has way too high access for a recruit." Hawkman growled.

"How about allowed in Gotham, for the criteria?" Clark's smooth voice joined the others. He must have only arrived. He pulled a chair out on the other side of Mari, which gave her the impression that she might be in his seat.

She peaked an eye over her arm and Clark smiled warmly at her as he set down the tablet in his hand and adjusted his cape.

"Guess that disqualifies you huh?" Dinah jabbed.

"Anyone allowed in Gotham? What is he just picking them up off the street now?" Hal must have leaned back in his chair since it creak and scrapped in a way that made her head stink.

"Now??" Wally asked with an appropriate level of disbelief.

"I'm pretty sure that's his whole modus operandi," Dinah quipped.

"There appears to be a level of familiarity that the young heroes have with Batman that the elder do not, I have suspected this is a result of their familiarity with his side kicks." Jon Jon stated.

"That's because Batman is way better at keeping secrets that a couple of someones I know." Wally mused.

"Wait wait, so Batman and Robin, there's been a couple of them I think. And then there's a girl too right?" Ollie tried to piece things together.

"Don't try too hard to figure it out, He'll sabotage you on purpose. He's a private guy like that." Wally joked.

"This presents a serious security risk. We cannot have recruits and who know who else wandering around restricted areas of the watch tower." Hawkman asserted. "The authority must know who is allowed where to maintain the hierarchy."

"I am the authority." B spoke up for the first time, using his intimidating Batman voice. "I am the only authority that decides who is authorized where in my facility. My agents are permitted wherever I deem necessary. "

"Wait, I thought she was related to Starfire." Barry cut the silence that followed Batman's reprimand.

Wally sighed auidibly. "Nice observation there Bare. A few more and you might catch up to the rest of us."

"No one can keep up with the relationship drama in this place. People changing names and costumes as often as they do partners. How's he supposed to know whose kid is whose?" Donna jumped to Barry's defense.

"woah, kid? now i'm way lost," Barry said.

"Well don't think your gonna get any answers here, this whole batfamily thing is something you have to be brought into the fold about, and I doubt B's gonna bring you in," Wally laughed.

"So you get higher clearance?" Hawkman demanded, more angry than before, "You are the youngest initiate to the higher ranks!"

"It's not about rank," Donna defended, "It's about who you know."

"And you don't know," Wally finished.

"I have no idea what's going on." Barry said.

They probably could have gone on that way for days but Diana's arrival quieted everyone as she strode into the room.

"Are we all present?" She asked, heels clicking across the floor as the made her way the their side of the room. Her hand slid across Mari's back as she passed and Mari worried that maybe it was her seat that she'd taken.

She leaned in close to B and spoke quietly "Is she well?"

B grunted his affirmative grunt and Diana sounded like she sat down.

"Diana gets to know." Ollie complained under his breath.

Mari was starting to drift away for real this time. The medication, her temperature and general exhaustion lulling her. She didn't want to stay awake listening to them bicker anymore. She was tired.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Could you do, "They told me you left." With captain syverson, please? ❤️

of course babe! xo

You heard a deep, gruff sounding Southern accent drawl out your name, causing you to spin around on your heels, turning to face the man the voice belonged to. You raised an eyebrow upon realizing it was Luke Syverson, the last person you ever expected to see here. "They told me you left. Yesterday morning, actually," you said softly, your eyes fixated on him, committing his face to memory in case this impromptu reunion is the last of its kind. "I did, sort of," Luke nodded, taking his sunglasses off and resting them atop his head. He looked around outside, frowning as he noticed the expression on your face, "I figured you'd be happy to see me though." "I would be under any normal circumstances, but the fact that you're not on the plane to Iraq right now tells me either something is wrong, or you didn't get medical clearance to go back over." "Something is wrong, I'll give ya that much." "Care on sharing it with the rest of the class, Luke? Or just gonna keep it to yourself and let me guess?" Luke's lips curled up into a mischievous grin. He shook his head with laughter as he looked at you, his blue eyes meeting your gaze for a split second before breaking contact. He shrugged his large, burly shoulders before continuing. "I mean, it's not like anyone's gonna die over it serious. Just...I needed to tell ya something." "I'm listening." "Look, Sugar, I like you. I don't tend to like too many people, I'm sure everyone's told ya. But, I like you. I don't go handin' out nicknames to just anyone. I've been callin' ya Sugar for months now. Don't ya think that means somethin'?" "It means you like me enough to give me a pet name, so what? My best friend and I call each other "babe" all the time." Luke let out a frustrated, strangled sounding groan as he shook his head again. He held out his large hands in front of him, gesturing for you to stop for a moment so he could recollect his thoughts. "Let me try again, ok? I like ya, Sugar. I want to see where things go for us. I managed to extend my leave by a few weeks. I'm not needed over there just yet, and when I found out, the first thing I wanted to do was see ya, see that pretty lil' face of yours and hold ya close, that kinda thing. That's not how I normally am with people, you know?" "Luke, are you trying to ask me out?" "Trying and not succeeding, yeah." "Yes." "Yes?" Luke raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Sugar, I'm not following ya." "Yes, I'll go out with you, Luke," you said with a laugh, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss. Luke wrapped his strong arms around you tightly, his lips finding yours in a hungry, passionate kiss. His beard tickled your lip as your tongues became entangled with one another, the fiery heat between the two of you burning brighter and hotter with every passing second. You'd been wanting this, longing for it and dreaming of it for weeks since you were introduced to him by a mutual friend at a barbecue earlier this summer.

Luke had come home on leave, and not having a family to come home to, his high school best friend, who had married your own best friend while Luke was deployed overseas, had invited the two of you over for dinner one night. Drinks were shared, stories told, and sparks flew instantly. Luke, to his credit, had been nervous about starting anything with someone, unsure how long of a stay stateside he'd get to have before being called back. However, the chemistry between you both was too much for anyone to deny. You'd let him go, not wanting to create issues for him while he was away, but knowing that you'd spend every day waiting for a friendly teasing email from him, signed off with a flirty little salutation at the end. Now, however, Luke was yours. You had a few weeks to prepare yourself before seeing him off, but, you knew that you'd savour every moment together - making it impossible this time for either of you to leave without needing to say goodbye.

[just-wrting]

Potentially Deleted Scene

From: Feeling Fangs Part 4

Word Count: 770

I’m not sure if I wanna keep this in, so consider this a preview? It might stay in if people think it’s a decent scene, but I’ve got a lot I still want to put in it so I might scrap it. However, I put effort into it so I don’t wanna just delete it forever.

"Hey, that's no way to talk to other people," you snap, slamming the key on the desk. "Just because your job sucks and it'll be annoying to put this all on hangers again, doesn't mean you straight up ask people if they're stupid. Can you not see that her friend is dumping all of this in a pile taller than the two of them combined?"

The lady closes her book and sneers. "You think you're so important don't you? Let me guess, you'd like to talk to the manager too?"

"No, but I can guarantee that your boss is nicer than I was ever raised to be. So we can do this the easy way, where you just apologize to her and I'll pretend this never happened. Or we can do this the hard way and I'll make you wish I'd asked for the manager."

She gives an evil grin. "You don't scare me. Why would I listen to you?"

You hear shuffling behind you, but wave your hand dismissively. You know that while he's most likely getting irritated, he's not there to fix your problems all of the time. As much as you know you could rely on him, you'd rather not have Katakturi feel like he needs to save you everytime something goes wrong.

"Because I'll ruin your life. I may normally be nice enough to let you be rude to me, but today's a special day." You look her up and down. "But everyday seems like it's special for you. I know that someone who works in this place doesn't make enough to be living the lifestyle you seem to be living.

"Now what would I know about how much you make? Believe it or not, I find that being a spoiled bitch can be a bit boring so I have scouted around places to see if it's worth working anywhere. I hate to say it, but this place wasn't really worth it. I don't think I could stand to be frustrated both at home and at a job. But I do know that the only way you could afford those shoes is if you were given them as a gift or they were on clearance. They came out less than a month ago, and while they are hideous, they haven't been on sale yet.

"No, you stole them. I can tell they aren't fake because the glitter on them was made specifically for these shoes and is too expensive to replicate for a pair of fakes. Not to mention, while it wasn't major news, I do happen to know that a pair of those went missing. In fact, I'd be willing to be that every piece of clothing you're wearing is not only real designer, it's also all stolen. You're too busy spending money on signed erotic novels anyway."

The lady behind the desk is red in the face with anger. If you weren't already one hundred percent confident, her reaction would have been enough to tell you you're right.

You give a smile. "I also happen to know that they're putting a price on whoever can find them. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm always willing to find out."

She looks at the ground and mumbles an apology. You fake a look of confusion and tilt your head. Cupping your hand around your ear, you mimic being unable to hear.

"Oh no, what was that?"

She clears her throat before speaking again. "I said I'm sorry for being rude to you."

Putting your hand over your chest, you frown. "Oh no no no. The time for apologizing to me has long since passed. It's the other woman you owe an apology."

By now, a line has formed to get access to the fitting rooms. You don't particularly care right now. If there's a line, management will show up, and you don't mind that. Your revenge was just getting the woman embarrassed. The rest can be left up to the other woman.

"Alright. I'm sorry I asked if you were stupid."

You turn to the other woman. "Is that enough for you? If not, I can get you want you need to feel better about this."

She shakes her head. "No this is fine. I don't need anything."

You've probably freaked her out, but at least she got an apology. You've never really been good with doing good deeds. Too many people are scared that you have other intentions. After all, your dad had been part of the underground market and now you've been married to a pirate. Oh well. What's done is done.

[decepti-thots]

Ultra Magnus for the headcanon asks, please!

Headcanon A: realistic

I think that while the existence of the Magnus armour stuff is officially only known by a very tiny number of people in Autobot high command, it's not nearly as unknown in an unofficial sense as one might assume, and a not insignificant number of people with some amount of security clearance and/or regular interaction with Magnus know about it and gossip. Obviously we have two concrete canon bits of proof for this (Bumblebee shouldn't know, but was told by at least one Magnus armour wearer, and Ratchet guessed despite never being told), but I think it's gotta be something that over the years has spread enough that it's a little bit of an open secret tbqh. The guy keeps dying and then popping back up with a noticeably different personality. Any medic treating him has the same opportunities as Ratchet to notice. They're robots where the concept of a loadbearer is a clearly known possibility and the propaganda possibility is not that hard to infer! I feel like the number of people who guessed that something was up cannot be anything close to zero, or even just a couple higher ups. Like. It's been gossiped about. You know.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Due to spending two years in direct collaboration with Verity, he has a baffling knowledge of the very specific segment of Earth pop culture that appeals to a teenage girl from the USA in like the late 00s/early 10s. Specifically a rebellious nerdy one. He legitimately knows more about it than he ever knew about Cybertronian popular culture. This never comes up until he offhandedly mentions some random thing within earshot of Swerve that is so incongruous it causes him to mentally bluescreen. How the fuck do you know about that Magnus. What the hell.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Magnus is going to carry the guilt of dismissing Rewind's insistence Dominus was somehow alive the whole time with him for the rest of his life. The realization that Rewind was right but they confirmed it too late for him to do anything about it until the very second it was too late, in a time and place where Magnus was present and might have been able to make a split second decision that helped if only he was there, must be such a fucking thing for him. Let alone that as Ultra Magnus, if he had believed like Rewind did, he'd have possibly had the resources to get answers much, much earlier, if he'd tried.

Realistically, he had every reason to assume Dominus was dead. Rewind was being unreasonably optimistic, especially when the comic implies that Minimus was cut off from the literal sparkbond they had in a way that in any other situation would be definitive proof Dominus was dead. But he wasn't! And he missed every chance to intervene by like, the tiniest margin. You have to assume that on some level he's got some fucked up feelings about that.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own

I know Roberts said he thinks that Megatron becoming an Autobot without all the code-test stuff that Tailgate went through wasn't an issue because realistically, Megatron would know it back to front. I don't even disagree with him, I absolutely believe that he would, it makes sense. But it's objectively too fucking funny to imagine Magnus putting Megatron through the 'you WILL listen to my three hour lecture on the syntax of this one sentence being Extremely Legally Important' gauntlet and I simply choose to believe this did happen but off-panel and Magnus absolutely kicked his ass about it in terms of sheer Knowing His Shit about it. Way too funny to pass up tbh. Megatron thought he knew and understood it very well (and to be fair: he did, compared to every not-Magnus person), but he got grilled. Magnus quite enjoyed rebutting every single interpretation Megatron had by way of ludicrous pedantry.

[louisaguy]

“Diana, you really are being silly about this,” Ingrid hissed, hurrying to keep up with Diana as she did her best to power walk away from her fellow agent. And preferably out of a window.

“Oh! Well! Shall we have a little laugh, then? Ha-ha-ha!” She pressed on a little faster, a twist of glee shooting up in her when Ingrid gave a fraction of a stumble.

“Diana,” Ingrid whispered again, nearly begging as she tailed the woman she still had the audacity to be calling her friend. “Come on, now, it’s only one assignment--”

Diana stopped suddenly, scoffing to turn around and look Ingrid in the eyes. “Oh, only one assignment!” she snapped sarcastically. “You make it sound so insignificant, Ingrid, that you snaked me out of my rightful place--”

“Oh my--” Ingrid shook her head. “Do you even hear yourself? ‘Your rightful place’, like you’ve been promised the world and more, you are so full of it--”

“--As Partner’s protégé , it should be me working next to him on this assignment, not you! And not only am I being passed over, I have to endure the humiliation of not even knowing the details-- I mean, since when do you have higher clearance than I do!?”

“You’re Partner’s protégé now, are you?” Ingrid crossed her arms. “Tell me, when did he bestow that title on you? Because I was under the impression we were all working our way up the ranks, that any one of us could be in line for First or Second desk--”

Diana barked a laugh. Ingrid frowned.

“...And anyway, Diana, like I said, it’s only one assignment. I’m sure you’ll get the next one.”

“No.” Diana’s jaw locked defiantly. “It’s never just one assignment.”

And perhaps Ingrid was right. Perhaps this assignment would prove insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and Diana was here making a fuss over nothing. But a single assignment, Diana knew well, could make or break a career. And, intentional sabotage or not, it rankled with her that Ingrid-- Cartwright’s favorite, and five years Diana’s junior-- would be chosen to work with Partner, for whom Diana had been the most loyal underling of for years. The closer she got to forty-- and she was quite close now-- the more she worried about the amount of time she had left to climb in her career, and whether each new height she reached would be her peak.

And she wasn’t ready to peak yet in her current position-- reasonably high up in the service, nothing to sniff at, but not the one calling the real shots. She had her sights set on First Desk. And nothing would stop her from reaching it. Not even her so-called “friend” Ingrid, who, unfortunately for them both, also had her sights set on the top.

Diana let the fury and the frustration of the previous two hours, as she pleaded her case to Partner and was swiftly and unmercifully denied, emanate through her as she shook herself out, turning away from Ingrid and continuing down the hall to her office door. Ingrid trailed her again, though less urgently now that they’d had their little row, and was just starting to speak again-- saying God knows what, Diana resolved to tune her out-- when Diana swiped her keycard and opened the door to her office.

…And froze abruptly, causing Ingrid to bump into her from behind.

“Diana, what--”

Then Ingrid saw what Diana was looking at, and she froze, too.

The light was on in Taverner’s office. Not a file out of place. Except…

A child, somewhere between five and ten years old-- Diana was always terrible at guessing children’s ages-- was sitting in the big plush chair at Diana’s desk, sticking his legs out as he spun himself in a quick circle.

When he spotted the two women standing in the doorway, he caught himself against the desk, though still swayed in the seat, dizziness making his body lurch in slow rotations.

“Hi,” he said plainly.

Diana, who was already not having a spectacular day, didn’t bother to contain her frustration. “Why. on Earth,” she asked dangerously, narrowing her eyes at the boy. “Is there a child sitting behind my--”

Ingrid squeezed her forearm, leaning forward to whisper into her ear: “Diana, hush. It’s baby Cartwright.”

And. Well. That changed things, then, didn’t it? She gave the child a once-over again. Young as he was, he seemed well behaved judging by the state of the office, the only thing out of place a pen and a doodle-covered paper sat in front of him. And now that it was pointed out to her, she could spot the resemblance to the Old Bastard in the boy-- his calm stillness that felt almost eerie in a child, his blue eyes wide and seemingly all-knowing. He immediately unnerved her.

She bit out a dazzling grin.

“Well, of course!” The forced cheerfulness in her voice made Diana want to choke on her own tongue. “Hello, young Cartwright.”

“My name’s River.” The boy pulled his sneakered feet up onto Diana’s chair, tucking them underneath him so that he could kneel to peer over the tall desk, and she had to choke back her reprimand-- do you have any idea how much that chair costs?

“Of course,” Diana said again. She already had a tension headache flaring up. “What a… lovely name.”

River made a face. “I don’t like it,” he told her, as if letting her in on a great and serious secret. “Granddad says my mum was in her ‘hippie phase’.”

“...Ah,” Diana said, unsure how else to respond. She had never been the most comfortable around children in general, and this particular one was even more disquieting. Both his mannerisms, uncannily similar to the man behind the curtain of everything going on at the Park, as well as his proximity to power, made Diana want him to leave very quickly.

On the other hand, his proximity to power could certainly be an asset…

“You know,” she said. “I think I’ve got a few candies in my desk drawer, if you’d like them.” In reality they were only breath mints, but she was hoping the child wouldn’t know the difference.

“Yes, please!” River chirped. He rolled himself away from the desk as Diana approached, but didn’t make a move to get up out of her chair. Damned child. “Granddad told me not to touch anything until he came back, so I didn’t snoop.”

Which meant he had definitely snooped. Diana repressed a groan, hoping whatever the little twat reported back to Daddy would make her look good, or at least not bad. At the very least, she assured herself, he wouldn’t be able to call her a slob.

“Here you are.” She deposited a few of the mints into River’s hand, though she’d done a quick count of the number in the tin and concluded that he’d already snacked on more than a few of them. “You know, you do remind me quite a bit of your grandfather.”

The boy beamed, which made him look absolutely nothing like David Cartwright. That man never smiled. Except, rumor had it, when looking after his grandson, whom he adored more than anything else in the world. More than his political power, even.

Yes, Diana was deciding. She had to find a way to please this child. If he left her office tonight upset, or even offended, she may as well kiss First Desk goodbye.

While River was occupied picking through the multicolored mints, Diana glanced up toward the door of her office again-- Ingrid had let it swing shut, but was standing near it with her arms crossed, an odd kind of amused smile on her face.

“What?” Diana whispered, coming back toward her. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” Ingrid tilted her head. “I’m just enjoying this.”

“Enjoying what?”

“Watching you suck up to a child.” Ingrid laughed. “I mean, really, Diana, he’s eight. Don’t you find this all a bit embarrassing?”

Diana made a mental note of the number. “Well, you can see yourself out, then.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Ingrid grinned again. “This is the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

Diana ignored her and turned back to little River. Ingrid could poke fun all she liked. It wasn’t her approval that mattered-- it was Cartwright’s.

“How would you like to play a game?” She asked the boy, scouring her brain for any memories of her schoolyard days.

“Sure!” River agreed easily.

.

When Cartwirght finally came to collect his grandson an hour later, it was to the sound of River laughing. After attempting Diana’s sorry excuse for a game, he had convinced her to try one that he played at school. The boy even managed to rope Ingrid into playing, too, though neither agent could quite figure out the rules from River’s unfocused babbling (Diana suspected the rules may have well been changing based on River’s whims), so he kept beating the two of them over and over. Still, it kept him entertained until David appeared in the doorway of Diana’s office, and River hopped up to run over and happily take his hand.

She had suspected partway through the strange experience that River had been left here, in the office of one of the few high-ranking female agents in the Park, for reasons having to do with little other than her high heels, a suspicion which was confirmed when David said, “Thank you for looking after him, ladies,” in a way that made Diana’s teeth grind together so hard she thought one would crack.

But still. She kept her smile. Kept her composure. Until the OB and his grandgremlin were gone. And, all things considered, she felt she had made a fairly positive impression on the boy-- he waved goodbye to her (her, and not Ingrid), as he and his grandfather left. Hopefully that would earn her a point or two.

So, all in all, despite the horrid mess of a day that had preceded it, Diana felt overall quite satisfied with the evening’s end. At least, until Ingrid coughed next to her.

“Ahem-toady-hm.”

Diana scowled, elbowing her in the ribs.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

A Cluster of Burning Stars - Chapter Twenty-Three

in which the hedgehogs come home

{ao3} {tumblr}

tw: Briefly Implied Suicidal Thoughts, Discussion of Chronic Illness

--

Shadow was in testing and Amy had wandered off somewhere, so when Sonic realized Maria was in the same place she was when he’d passed several hours prior, he skidded to a stop beside the big window, bouncing on his feet beside her seat and saying, “Hey, Mari-ri! What’s shakin’?” 

She hummed a response, and kept staring out at their same view of Earth. 

Sonic waited for a minute, before sitting down on the ground beside her, trying to see if there was anything different about the planet or the distant stars that might be drawing her attention. Then he thought back to the last time she’d done a check-up, wondering if she’d gotten bad news or was acting weaker than she had been on previous days. “Hey. You feeling alright?” he eventually asked, putting one hand over hers. “I can get you to the hospital wing if–”

“I’m fine.” 

She usually wasn’t that short or direct. So she must either be having really bad pains she didn’t want to admit to, or something else was really bothering her. He hoped it wasn’t something he did. The closet conversation had been a while ago by now, so it couldn’t be that, right? Were Shadow or Amy going through something that was worrying her? 

She glanced at him through the sides of her eyes, then sighed and turned back to the window. “Got a letter from home with the last shipment.” 

“From your parents?” they apparently didn’t have the clearance to come and visit, so they sent letters as often as they could. Those usually made Maria happy, though every now and again they’d make her more quiet and wistful. Not really like this, though. 

She sighed. “They’re having another baby.” 

“Oh! Oh, that’s nice.” Sonic said, a bit confused. He didn’t really know the decorum for this kind of thing; nobody had been naturally born on the ARK since Abe, and of course he hadn’t been around for that. 

“Yeah. Wonderful.” 

He tried to study her reflection in the glass. Her face was blank, but one of those blank faces where you could tell she was forcing herself to make it. Shadow made that face a lot. 

“Um…” he shuffled his feet. “So you’re gonna have a little sibling?” 

“I guess. Other than you guys, I mean.” 

He smiled. “Come on, we don’t count.” 

Finally, the strange mood shifted, and she turned to him, surprised. “Of course you do.” 

“Nah. Hedgehogs don’t count.” 

“Yes you do! Just because–”

“Plus, your grandfather made me, so I’m your uncle if anything.” 

At the ridiculousness of that, Maria started one of her joyful, clear laughs, but Sonic’s smile faded as she suddenly was interrupted by a coughing fit. She doubled over, heaving slightly, as Sonic grabbed her shoulders. “Whoa, whoa! Are you oka–”

“No!” 

He jumped back, shocked, raising his hands as if in defense. She never sounded that angry, not since they’d first met. She kept coughing for a few seconds, slamming a fist against the glass wall. “Maria?” 

“It’s bullshit.” she said, before placing the top of her head on the glass beside her hand. “It’s bullshit is what it is.” 

“Wh-what’s bullshit? The baby?” 

“Everything. Do you know how long I’ve been up here, Sonic? I haven’t seen my parents since I was a little kid. I’ve been here, sitting around and getting worse while everyone acts like there’s a chance I can go home.” 

“What? What are you talking about?” Sonic pulled himself closer to her, pressing his head against the side of her chest. “Mari-ri. You always talk about how we’re going to go home. You’re the one who never gives up!”

Her voice lowered. “I don’t give up because if I have to think about never seeing my home again, I might as well just stop the treatments and get it over with.” 

“You can’t say that! You’re getting better, and we’re getting better at finding ways to help you.” 

“Everyone always talks about helping me.” she sighed. “Every single day. And nothing else.” 

“It’s because we love you. We’re going to make you better, and you’re going to take us to Spagonia and get us ice cream. You said that’s th–”

“The last thing I remember doing before Grandfather took me up here.” she scoffed. She pushed Sonic to the side slightly, before spinning around and slumping onto the ground, her back against the window. “And it was two months before. I don’t remember anything on Earth after that. I don’t remember what my house looked like, Sonic. I- I think my room was blue? But I might be thinking of the children’s ward instead. I don’t remember what my dad sounded like.” 

“Maria–”

“And now I’m going to have a baby sibling and I don’t even get to be there for it! I don’t get to- to see them at all? I don’t get to be there when they’re born? When am I gonna see them? When they’re two? Three? Twenty? How long am I going to be here? I want to go home, but I don’t even know what my home is anymore! And what if it’s here? Because I don’t want to be here for the rest of my life but right now, I can’t think of anything else!” 

He leaned against her shoulder again, wrapping his arm around hers. “We’re not gonna be here forever. You’re not gonna be here forever. This all can’t be for nothing, right? Not only are we going to save you, we’re gonna save a lot of people.” She huffed again. “And when we go back down, you’re gonna get to see so much stuff, just like us. You can show us Spagonia, but you get to see your house for the first time again. How cool is that?” 

“It just seems so far away. And I’ve already been stuck for so long.” she leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “They made three of you, Sonic, to help me. And now what happened? I’m still here, I’m still dying, and now they’ve fucked up three new lives in the meantime.” 

Sonic forced out a laugh. “Hey! My life is great. I get to run as much as I want, I get to hang out with my best friends in the whole world, and one day we’re gonna have an entire planet to explore. And when we get down there, we get to meet your new little sib. We get to tell them how strong and brave their big sister was. And how because of her, we all get to be a family forever.” 

Maria fell silent, and stayed that way for a long time. Eventually, she slowly said, “Do you remember Little Women?” 

“Duh. First thing you read us. It’s how you got Amy’s name.” 

A rueful smile twitched at the corners of her lip. “Because she was the youngest of four, and all she wanted to do was paint and dress up.” 

“And kiss boys, now.” he glanced to the doors, making sure they were alone, before saying, “Which I guess I get.” 

That was another laugh he got out of her. Any of those, in times like these, were a treasure. “Do you… remember Beth on the beach?” 

“Yeah. I cried, and Shadow pretended he didn’t.” 

“You remember what she said about the tide?” 

“We’re gonna see that, Mari-ri. I can’t even imagine. The endless water, right in front of us. Pushing and pulling. The waves in the bath aren’t even gonna compare.” 

“And it’s gonna be darker than the exercise pool.” she nodded. “The wine-dark sea. And taste worse, somehow.”

They both scrunched up their noses, and then giggled together. Maria looked down at his bright, green eyes, and then said, “Forget what I said. We should send a letter back of baby names.” 

“Turbo!” 

“Hmm, not a usual human name, but maybe they’ll like that.” 

“Hey, how are we gonna be the Little Women with five of us?” he gasped, then, leaping to his feet. “Oh! We’re gonna have a Laurie, aren’t we? Maybe we should suggest that! Laurie Robotnik, how’s it sound?” 

“Works for both a boy or a girl. It’s up to Mother for the final say, though. Oh! How about Stellar? Or Cosmo? Something that tells them to reach for the stars, no matter what.” 

“Come on.” he grabbed her hands, lifting her to her feet. “Let’s go to the library. We’ve got books to look through! And we gotta study how to take care of a baby, too. So when we get back, we can help out. You’re supposed to swing them by the feet, right?” 

“Don’t make that joke around Grandfather,” she laughed. “He’ll never let you near them.” 

“We better start studying, then. Prove we can be good with kids. And make sure Shadow and Amy know, too, cause Shadow would definitely drop-kick ‘em as soon as they started crying.”

Another happy laugh, echoing through the room, as they raced off together.

---

Amy thought that Shadow might be keeping Cream in the dorms, so she immediately pointed Knuckles in the direction they were supposed to go, and they took off without a glance back. Sonic, though, began tapping his foot, looking down the halls around him. 

“Okay, so the Professor only took us to the cannon once,” he said, “But I know the access point was on the lower levels. It’s where they kept all the dangerous experiments. I can get us there in two minutes if you hold on tight.” 

“We’re going to need to be careful, though.” Tails warned him, glancing after where the rest of their party had disappeared. “I’m sure they noticed we’ve arrived. You might want to take a couple detours to throw off where they think we’re going, especially if it’s going to take you a bit to find the correct location.” 

“Dude, I’m the fastest thing alive. We’ll be in-and-out before they even try anything!” 

“The reason I insisted Knuckles and I come along is because we know how Robotnik operates. So if you could trust me on this?” 

“Ugh, fine. We’ll make it three minutes instead of two.” Sonic waved his hand before extending it. “Grab hold.” 

Tails felt back in his tail fluff, before pulling out the fake emerald and holding it tight in his free hand, before grabbing onto Sonic. “Alright, be careful.” 

“Careful? Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Sonic.” 

“Alright, alright.” 

For a minute or so, he just held tight to Tails and wound his way down the halls. He was glad, then, that Tails was behind him and couldn’t see his face as they went. The familiarity was hitting him like a brick, and not just that– the fact that clearly someone had cleaned up the bodies and the blood. He wondered if GUN did that before they left, not wanting to leave behind any evidence, or if Shadow had to do that himself. God, he hoped not. But at the same time, if it was the soldiers, what did they do with the bodies then? Where were they? Incinerated? Dropped into a mass grave somewhere? He couldn’t think of what might be worse– Maria and the Professor being ashes somewhere, or Maria finally reaching Earth just to be buried somewhere nobody could find her again. 

God, it made him want to throw up. He probably should’ve spent the trip here “meditating” or whatever it was Shadow did to keep himself calm. Maybe then he would be happy to be home. Maybe he’d be able to forget everything that happened. Somehow he felt like he wouldn’t have felt happy even if he tried, but at least he could make an attempt.

He turned a tight bend, before instantly sliding to a halt when his eyes fell on an unfamiliar sight– three metal shapes in the air, hovering a few feet above the ground. They swiveled towards him, a small red dot beginning to light up with a threatening hiss. Sonic wasted no time; he let go of Tails’s arm, leapt into the air, and spin-dashed directly into the first one. He angled himself, managing to hit the bots in a zig-zag pattern and send them crashing to the ground before they could fire off a shot. 

Once his feet skid against the floor, Tails raced to one of the machines, inspecting it closely. “These aren’t yours, are they?” 

He shook his head. “Never seen em before.” 

“Right. Robotnik must know we’re here. I’d say to pick up speed, but we don’t know how many more we’ll run into.” 

“Gives us something to do?” Sonic said, before straightening up and smiling. “Hey, maybe we’ll be lucky and they’ll lead a path right to the cannon, and I won’t even have to remember the way to the control room.” 

“If Robotnik knows where we are, he could send Shadow.” 

“Then we better hope Amy and Knuckles get to him first–”

“Behind you!” Tails shouted, and Sonic instantly ducked as a laser blast flew over his head. In a flash, Tails swapped the emerald in his hands for one of his guns, which he immediately fired at the robot that had floated its way into view. 

“Fuck, okay. Guess we’re fighting our way through.” Sonic stretched out his hands. “Think you can keep up?” 

The fox nodded, and Sonic raced around the next bend, immediately catapulting himself into the air to hit against another series of machines. As he hit against the first one, he felt a burst of anger surge through him– these things were in his home, trying to keep him out. Trying to hurt his friends. Shooting to kill. 

When he knocked the last out of the air in this area, he stopped to stomp it into the ground before he and Tails continued on. 

As they wound their way through the ARK, Tails flew a few feet off the ground, firing at any bots that Sonic wasn’t headed directly toward. Sonic laid his ears back, trying to ignore the sound of the shots as they echoed around him– they were laser blasts, it wasn’t the same as… Hold on, were these things going after Amy and Knuckles, too? Amy must be so scared. He came out of his spin, landing atop a bot instead of breaking it directly, solely so that he could grab down onto its side, swing himself off in a cartwheel, and smash it against the wall. There was a brief sting against his hands as the badnik shattered, and he had to swing his head back to avoid the rubble, but it somehow felt better. 

Eventually, he held up a hand to signal Tails to halt, and ran to the stairwell door. Once there, he jumped onto the railing; he’d intended to slide down like he used to do with Amy, but he actually liked how the shoes grinded against the metal. Tails flew just behind him as he slid down the rails, leaning and shifting only to help him make the brief sharp turns before finally reaching the lower floor door. He slid down to the ground, did a mock bow, and then held open the door for the young fox. Tails immediately fired his gun, blasting two badniks out of the air, and Sonic had to hop over them before directing them to the left. 

“I know we head this direction. Should be able to get us there by landmarks. Or, well, building-marks? What’s the right term?” 

“We can worry about that later.” Tails waved his hand. “Come on.”

Sonic meant to get there in a hurry, he really did. He knew this was important, and he shouldn’t get distracted, the way he always did during classes and lectures. 

But there was something about being home. 

He had knocked another badnik out of the air, and when he landed on the ground, he found himself in front of a familiar door. “No way!” he cheered, and Tails watched in confusion as he immediately dashed into a card-slot that hung from the wall. 

As it broke to pieces, Tails said, “What was that for?” 

“It was probably useless, I doubt anything’s locked anymore, but come on! This was my room!” 

“What?” 

Sonic slid open the door, rushing in before the lights even flickered on. His face fell only slightly when he saw the mess that had been left behind; filing cabinets overturned, singed remains of paper littering the floor, shattered bits of metal and glass littering the place. The clutter made the room seem smaller than he remembered. Yeah, it was just the clutter, probably nothing else.

He whistled, making his way to the center of the room and putting his hands on his hips. “Wow, they did a number on this place. Looks like they didn’t even clean up.” 

“You lived in here?” Tails asked, as he hesitantly floated atop a table that still stood upright, sitting on it to avoid the debris. 

“Well, they repurposed it into an office after I moved in with Shadow and Amy.” he shrugged. “But my stuff is still here, in case I ever got tired of them. I never did, but– yo, here was my bed!” He raced to the edge of the room, waving his arms to show off a small mattress and pillow. “Aaw, I was so tiny.” 

“That was your bed?” 

“Yeah. I used to have a tube, but apparently I broke it, like, immediately upon birth. I don’t remember that, but I remember them trying to make a second one. I freaked out when they tried to fill it with liquid and I broke out and they were like, ‘Come on, Sonic, do you know hard those are to-’ Aaw, look!” He darted to another corner before Tails could say anything, pushing aside a fallen cabinet and holding up half of a toy car. “This was mine! Do cars look different now? I didn’t see any on Earth.” 

“They’re, uh, mainly continental vehicles.” Tails said awkwardly. 

Sonic was confused about his reaction until he realized the fox wasn’t looking at him. He followed his gaze to a portion of the far wall, and then laughed and raced over. “Yo! I told you, Chaos Cage! Check it out!” 

He knelt down. The ceiling of the cage had been dented heavily, and one of the walls had broken off, one remain bar bent at an odd angle. 

“Okay, well,” Sonic shrugged, “This one’s broken, obviously, but maybe we can find more? Or maybe you can tinker with it, figure out how the tech worked so we can trap Shadow in one spot.”

Tails didn’t move. He just kept staring at the broken cage. Then, slowly, he said, “They put you in that?” 

“Yeah? C’mon, we talked about this, it was just for time-out. It wasn’t like…” 

“You fit in there?” 

“Well. It looks a bit bigger when it’s not half-smashed.” Tails looked skeptical, so Sonic pushed up on the ceiling dent and squeezed in through the broken wall. “See?” He knelt down, hugging his knees. “I sit like this, I don’t even touch the walls!” 

“Is that your metric for judgement?” 

Sonic leaned up against the bars. “Pfft. Can you use it or not?” 

“Looks far too decayed. We should… we should get going.” 

Sonic sighed, not noticing his own shoulders relaxing as he turned his gaze to the wall. For a minute or so, his mind went sort-of blank, the weight of what was going on disappearing from his mind. Long breath in, long breath out. For just a moment, everything felt still, as a soft silence filtered through his ears.

“Sonic. Get out of there.” 

Sonic blinked, the strange voice cutting through his reverie. “Huh?” 

“Get out of the cage.” 

He looked back to Tails, still feeling a bit hazy. The fox had slid off the table, his tails flickering a bit in concern. 

“Right. Yeah.” Sonic said, but he made no move to get out. 

“Are you stuck? Is it on or something?” 

No. He’d hear the soft hum if the cage was turned on, and it was far too destroyed to work anyway. But as Tails made a step towards him, Sonic felt a surge in his chest, and he quickly scrambled up, climbing back out of the metal block. “Alright, alright, I’m out!” 

“Is there… anything we should grab from in here?” 

“Uh…” he hugged his own chest, glancing back down at the chaos cage, just noticing how it was only about half his height. “No. No, most of my stuff was in our room upstairs, so…” 

“Okay. Do you… are you okay?” 

“Of course, yeah. Let’s, uh. Let’s get that cannon shut down.” 

He started off towards the door, keeping his eyes on the ground to make sure he was able to hop over the bits of glass and metal. He heard the fox carefully plodding after him, but he didn’t glance up, nor did he look back at anything else. 

When he exited the room, he felt that weight return to him, and he stopped in the center of the hall, tightening his self-hold and slowly turning his face up, his sightline taking in the length of metallic walls until he was just staring at the ceiling. 

“Okay.” Tails said. “You know the way?” 

“Yeah, I… I think I can get us there.” He wished he hadn’t stopped by his room. 

Tails moved to his front, and opened his mouth to say something. He didn’t get to find out what it was, because a burst of light and sparking chaos suddenly barrelled past him, slamming into Tails and knocking him clean across the room. 

Tails let out a cry, and Sonic immediately tensed, anger flaring into him, and dashed down the hall, before Shadow turned around, glared at him, and met his attack, striking against him in another ball of chaos. They collided for an instant before sending each other flying in different directions; Sonic landed against the wall feet-first, halting for just long enough to figure out where Shadow was before catapulting himself right back at him. With another slam, Shadow knocked him to the floor, pinning him down with a snarl. 

“Get off of me!” Sonic kicked him off, using the few seconds that it took Shadow to get back to him to jump to his feet and throw out his hands. They locked their fingers together, both trying to push the other off-balance first. Before either could succeed, Tails leapt onto Shadow’s back, arms around his neck, doing his part to yank him backwards. Sonic dropped down, swinging his legs to knock Shadow to the ground, with Tails letting go just before he started to fall. Unfortunately, Shadow took the opportunity to roll up, once again ramming directly into the blue hedgehog in front of him. Sonic hit hard against the wall, but managed to grab onto Shadow and spin their positions. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Shadow growled in response, before headbutting him in the chest, knocking them both backwards. As they fell, Sonic briefly heard Tails whisper-shouting, “Knuckles! Where the shit are you? Shadow’s caught up to us!” Sonic landed on his back, kicked Shadow up, and dodged a swing of his fists as Tails listened to whatever the echidna had to say on the other end of the radio, and replied, “The fuck you mean ‘in the middle of something’?” 

Sonic ducked another kick from Shadow, who immediately jumped over him, tackling Tails to the ground. He didn’t have a hold on him long, though, as Sonic quickly rolled right into him, sending the two of them flying several feet away. Shadow tried to spin them around, which resulted in them rolling up-and-down the floor as they each attempted to gain the upper hand. As Shadow threw him into a wall, Sonic shot a glance at Tails, hoping that his gesture down the hall should be enough to tell him to go ahead while I deal with this. The kid was smart, he’d eventually find the cannon, right? Instead, Tails once again ran to help him, only for Shadow to spin into him, knocking him away, before trying to barrel into Sonic again. 

As the blue hedgehog slid away, Tails shouted, “Sonic, think fast!” 

Well, he did everything fast, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Sonic shot his attention to the fox, who held up the faux chaos emerald and chucked it through the air. Shadow’s eyes locked on it as well, but Sonic got there first, grabbing the gem midair and then taking off in the direction of the cannon. With a hiss and sparks of chaos flying from his quills, Shadow followed. 

Sonic raced for some time, feeling Shadow at his heels and ducking to avoid his swinging arms. Think fast. Okay, Shadow might get suspicious if Sonic was taking the emerald directly to the cannon. Unless he thought Sonic was on his side? He wasn’t a good enough actor to pull that enough. So he took a different route, detouring into a hall he knew would loop back around eventually, hoping he could find a way to block off the other hedgehog and lose him off his trail. Or maybe he could keep him distracted until Tails managed to get Amy and Knuckles over here to take over. Where were they, anyway? This was supposed to be Amy’s job so that he didn’t have to face… 

Shadow teleported in front of him, tripped him out, and knocked him to the ground. Sonic kicked his chest, clutching the fake emerald to his chest and rolling onto his stomach, his quills sticking out protectively. 

“Let go!” Shadow hissed, grabbing onto his head quills and trying to pull him up. 

“You let go!” 

They tumbled over each other again, and before Sonic knew it, the emerald was flying out of his hands, clattering against the cold metal floor. Shadow leapt over him and grabbed at it, so Sonic quickly leapt forwards and grabbed his heel, trying to knock him off-balance. 

Shadow, staring down at the gem, did fall, but when he rolled back up, kicking at Sonic’s face, he shouted, “What is this?” 

“What?” 

Shadow threw the emerald back at him in disgust. “That’s a fake!” 

Fear gripped his chest as his fingers wrapped tight around the rock. “Oh, really? Maybe it just doesn’t like you.” 

“Don’t you feel it? The energy’s…” Shadow waved his hand. 

Sonic did feel it. It was just a bit heavier than the Chaos Emerald they’d had on the ARK, the faint buzz just a bit off-beat. But before he could think up a response, or even consider jumping to start the attack again, Shadow’s eyes widened with realization. 

“Where’s Amy?” 

Sonic shoved the emerald into his quills and tackled Shadow again, pinning him to the ground. “She doesn’t have it!” he lied. 

“Where is she?” 

Once again, Shadow tackled him to the ground, but this time, Sonic decided to hold off his defense for a second. He waited until Shadow was above his face, eyes flaring with anger, to look up at him and say, “You don’t have to do this.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Shadow, you can stop. Look at you! Look at what you’re doing!” Sonic tried to sit up, only for Shadow to push him back to the ground. “See? You’re literally trying to fight us! You just punched me in the face! You’re about to kill billions of people! You kidnapped a kid!” 

“I didn’t…” Shadow shut his eyes, then shook his head. “Stop talking. You never knew when to shut up! That’s what always got us into trouble!” 

Sonic knew, from his tone of voice, that he didn’t mean that. That he was forcing the words out, desperate for something to hurt Sonic to make him stop feeling so superior. The fact it was working had nothing to do with the lack of intent. He bristled himself, shouting back, “I didn’t ask you to protect me! But you could never stand having anything out of your control, right?” 

“You never needed to ask!”

“Yeah, because, what? I belong to you?” he hissed. “Don’t pretend like everything I ever did didn’t reflect back on you and the fact you decided to keep us! Like keeping us in line wasn’t just so that we wouldn’t stain your own rep.” 

“Shut up! That was never the point and you know it!”

He did know it. His mind flashed to the image of that smashed chaos cage, of what it looked like when it was repaired, of the one time he’d seen Shadow inside. But if Shadow was willing to sling insults they didn’t mean, he could fight fire with fire. “But all you proved was that you define yourself by the people around you. And look at you! Now you’re alone! Who even are you now?” 

“Who are you?” Shadow snapped. “I thought you were someone who gave a shit about our family!” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to blow up the planet because Maria–”

“You don’t get to say her name anymore!” 

In a flash, Shadow had lifted Sonic into the air, and before he could react, he’d been thrown at full speed across the room. Landing hard against the wall, sharp stings of pain raced up his back, which remained even as he slumped to the floor.

Shadow tensed at first, about to attack again. Then, his eyes widened, and darted to the edge of the hall. Sonic wondered if maybe someone was coming, but, no, the place was empty. 

He heard the whisper, “She went after the kid, didn’t she?” 

“Leave her alone.” 

Shadow was gone in the blink of an eye. Sonic stood, preparing to run after him, but he felt the weight of the fake emerald in his quills, and he hesitated. 

They’d sent Amy after Shadow initially. Because he trusted that she could talk him down. Maybe she could. Maybe he just needed to get the chaos emeralds and get them as far away from the cannon as possible in the meantime. But at the same time… he didn’t want to leave her alone.

She’s not alone, she’s with Knuckles. And I’m with… 

Shit. 

Sonic raced back the way he’d come, muttering under his breath. When Tails wasn’t in the place he’d left him, he wondered if the fox had tried to make his way to the cannon to meet him there. But he wasn’t down any of the nearby halls, nor had he ducked into the rooms. Sonic sped back, once again going into his old room, wondering if maybe the fox had gone back in there to study the chaos cage. But everything was just where it had been. 

Don’t freak out. He probably just went to help Knuckles and Amy. He can handle himself. They all can handle themselves…

He stumbled back into the hall, and stared down at the ground. Lots of skid marks where there would previously have been an impeccable glisten. Had those all been from him and Shadow’s fight? Or… 

When one of those floating robots came into his view, he waited cautiously, squaring his shoulders as it edged closer and closer. It finally stopped a few feet from him, showing no signs of blinking lights or firing lasers. 

Slowly, Sonic said, “Where’s the fox?” 

The thing stared at him, then started to float away. Sonic glanced away, towards the direction the cannon should be. That was their goal, that was how they saved everyone.

But what if Tails needs me? 

He looked between the long halls, each seeming to stretch in endless directions.

--

{ao3} {tumblr}

[gay-opossum-in-the-garbage]

Dazai Osamu x John Doe Crackfic

Tags: Kissing, Near Death Experience, Love at First Sight, Not Beta Read, This was made in 10 minutes

Enjoy the fic that was created from an inside joke between me and my friend

John Doe was walking down the sidewalk, humming a small tune and admiring his surroundings. He had just learned that the love of his life had gone missing in the war. He wasn't really hung up about it though, he didn’t like how they always screamed when they saw him watching them sleep. Suddenly. He stopped, and looked across the street.

He saw a scrawny man with butt-ugly brown hair, boba orbs, and a dusty brown trench coat that looked like it was dug out of the clearance bin in a good will. John had equally bad fashion taste, so he was immediately smitten with the ugly man. Enamored even. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the fugly man across the road from him.

Dazai keeps walking, not noticing the greasy-haired man staring at him, he was too busy moping about his dead friend. And Chuuya, who also went missing in the war. A different war though.

Suddenly, he sensed the eyes on him and whipped around, a gust of wind blowing his trenchcoat in the wind majestically. He smelled the LGBT radiating off the creature across the street. As they locked eyes, they ran towards each other, into the road. They embraced in a kiss (ew) and hugged each other. On the road, I should reiterate. A woman with her child walks by on the sidewalk, covering her poor child’s eyes as they passed.

In their loving embrace, they didn’t notice that a semi-truck hauling bandages, gasoline, and matches was racing towards them. As the truck barreled towards them, they stopped to look at the oncoming vehicle.

“Well, guess we’re going to die,” Dazai said, animely.

“Yes, it will be a beautiful death,” John responded. Dazai noticed that he sounded weirdly similar to Weird Al, but that didn’t stop his love for the strange creature.

Suddenly, the trucker realized the two gays were in the road and veered to the left, crashing into a gas station and blowing up in a fiery inferno that somehow didn’t hit the lovers.

“Well damn, guess we aren’t going to die,” Dazai complained, now very animely.

“Yes, but that also means we can die even cooler,” replied John. Don’t know why Dazai isn’t getting the ick at this point. Or John. They should both get the ick tbh.

And with that, the two edgelords held hands and skipped into the sunset, skipping so fast that their hair blew off and they were left bald. Bald and in love.

Ew.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

life's not fair, but it could be (not old enough ch. 7)

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

cw: masturbation, idk? surprises?

summary: a mysterious stranger arrives with advice, you receive some life-changing news, and then your love returns, but will he accept you back, after all that's happened?

word count: 6.2k

ao3 link

At this point phone sex would be a gift from god. You were doing things the old fashioned way, which took longer. You were lazy and broke, so you decided not to take a trip to the mall and buy a vibrator. You could’ve bought one online, but it’d take forever to come - ha! Just like you. It wasn't really that funny anymore, though. It was actually quite frustrating. You were beginning to reconsider an errand to Spencers, or an equivalent, but the awkwardness one feels in the sex toy section of those stores is unparalleled. You really have no allies in the sex toy section, do you? It’s full of gross grown men who stare at your ass and giggly teenagers.

Leon didn’t have anything fun in his house. You looked. You were hoping you could find a dildo buried in a dresser or a playboy under the bed. Not that you really felt like getting off to a playboy magazine, but some reading material would help you pass the time until your boyfriend came back from his heroic quest across the world. 

There was a cucumber in the fridge, but that would require a new level of desperation and courage that was surely not worth it, considering the shame and the possibility of infection. God, what if you ended up on that show “Sex Sent Me to the ER” for getting a cucumber stuck up your - 

Wait. What was Leon’s computer password? Leon had two laptops in his house - one in the bedroom and one in his office. You were not to touch the one in his office under any circumstances because you didn’t have “top secret clearance and the government would send an army of men to kill you in your sleep if you so much as pressed one key” or something like that. But, Leon never said anything about the computer in his bedroom. You’d bet your savings on the fact that this bedroom computer was 100% certainly for porn. A laptop is portable, so why have two for work? What else is a computer for? Facebook? Instagram? YouTube? No, Leon is 41 years old. It is for porn. 

There were only two questions: How to get in? And what’s inside?

You took out a pen and paper to write out possible password combinations, so you could pick the ones you deemed optimal, not wanting to risk locking yourself out of the computer by guessing everything your mind could conjure up. 

What do people have as their passwords? Mother’s maiden name? Childhood pets? Birthday? Girlfriend’s name? 

“Hell yeah!” you said to the empty room when you guessed correctly on the first try. It was your first name. No numbers or symbols. Dumbass. 

There wasn’t anything saved locally, so you had to go to the internet and hope that he hadn’t deleted his search history. Yeah, you could just search up whatever you wanted to watch, but what’s the fun in that? You typed “P” into the search bar and the first thing that came up was Pornhub. Is Leon really that horny? Ew, gotta check the desk chair for jizz stains. Nothing you hadn’t tasted before.

You looked at his recent searches when you clicked on the site.

Amateur, lesbian, creampie. Pretty basic, nothing to do with stepmoms or women getting stuck in washing machines. How do they even get in there in the first place? What does sex have to do with getting them out? Your mind trailed off for a moment contemplating porn premises - maybe this was why you couldn’t get off...

Oh. There was something interesting. One word: Daddy. 

If only you could look at the time he’d searched it up. Was it after you’d called him that? Or had Leon always wanted to be your daddy? You clicked on some stuff with 'daddy' in the title, and tried to get into it, but it wasn’t Leon. That man in the video isn’t daddy, not to you. It wasn’t enough to get you off, not even close. 

Back to square one. You decided to search through your photo gallery. Leon’s face - hot. Leon sleeping shirtless - a little creepy, but hot. Leon straight out of the shower - really hot. Looking at Leon with a towel hanging around his waist was enough for your fingers to find their way back to your clit.

Leon wasn’t hairy per se, but he did have a nice happy trail leading from his belly button down to what you really wanted. The towel was riding low on his hips and you could see it, could almost see further. 

Finally getting a little excited, you continued to sift through your Leon catalog. The next picture had a perfect shot of that five o’clock shadow, the one that tickled your thighs when his face was between them. His lips, so soft against your skin, his nose that would press against your clit anytime he tongue-fucked you. 

Jackpot, A video. Of Leon. You were eternally grateful to past-you who took tons of pictures and videos, but especially this one. It was Leon, getting ready in the morning, so ridiculously mundane, but his raspy, deep morning voice. 

“Mornin’, Baby. What are you doing?” he asked. 

Touching myself halfway across the world from you, daddy.

This was way better than porn. Leon’s laugh once he realized you were filming. Hot. Leon slipping on a t-shirt, showing off his perfect physique... and the happy trail again. Hotter . Leon buckling his belt - unbuckling would be better, but clinking sound had long ago linked itself to the moment before you’d have him. Have him in your mouth, have him on top of you, have you on top of him. In bed, in the car, in the bar bathroom. Have him inside you however he wanted.   

You remembered his thumbs playing with your nipples, hands running down your sides, gripping your hips, pushing you down, so he could thrust up into you harder. If only your hands were Leon’s hands. Leon’s big hands. Leon’s big dick. Leon. Leon. Leon. Oh Leon . 

It’s a shame he wasn’t there to hear you moan out his name. 

Fucking finally. All you had to do was look at a video of the man. Yeah, you were fucked. No, you weren’t fucked, but you’d like to be. 

That night, you were up late, bored out of your mind. And lonely, very lonely. This was retribution for cheating on Leon. In a fit of every single emotion known to mankind, you betrayed the man you loved.

You made your bed, now go lie in it, you thought.

You were sitting on the couch, trying to balance the line between self-pity and self-loathing, while biding your time by watching rom-com after rom-com. The Holiday, When Harry Met Sally, Jerry Maguire. All of 'em.

The doorbell rang. The little unmistakable jingle bounced off the high ceilings and echoed through the room. Did you order strippers in your drunken stupor the night before? Was a serial killer dumb enough to ring your doorbell? Who the fuck was on Leon’s doorstep at midnight?

You got up and looked through the peephole before opening the door. On the front porch stood a woman -  a short black bob, maybe 5’7”, looked to be in her 30s, a bit overdressed for the occasion, but most of all, drop-dead gorgeous. Doesn't matter how straight you thought you were, you weren't not going to let her in. 

“Um, hi,” you said, cracking the door open, enough to lean your head out, but hopefully not enough for her to see your pajamas. 

“Hello,” she said, “Can I come in?”

“Are you looking for Leon? Because he’s not home.”

“I know he’s in Moscow. I’m looking for you.”

Was the government coming to kill you for breaking into Leon’s computer? Did the government monitor his porn too?

“Are you Hunnigan?”

She was the only person you could think of who would know Leon's location.

“My name is Ada.”

Ada . Leon’s infatuation began to make sense. 

“Okay,” you said and let her in, god knows why. Maybe you could pry more information out of her, but based on what Chris had told you, you weren’t optimistic. 

“You can sit down if you want,” you offered, trying to be a good hostess.

“Thanks,” Ada said and sat down on the living room chair. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

You downed a glass of water because your mouth had dried up completely in the last five or so minutes. As not to keep your guest waiting, you returned to the living room. You looked around at the cluttered room, blankets strewn around, an empty bowl of popcorn, the TV still on. 

“Sorry. I would’ve cleaned up if I knew you were coming over.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said, “Is this 10 Things I Hate About You?” 

“Yeah,” you said, pausing the TV, “have you seen it?”

“I have. I don’t usually like rom-coms, but I like this one.”

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, you thought to yourself. You already had two things in common: you liked to watch the same movies and fuck the same man. 

You sat down on the couch, facing Ada. “If you don’t mind me asking, Why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Leon.”

Alright. No beating around the bush with this woman.

“You love him, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I do. A lot.”

You felt uneasy. It sounded like the beginning of a ransom note. “You love him, right? Wire me 10 million dollars by the end of the day if you want to see him again”. You were completely off-base in your suspicions, however. 

“That’s good. He deserves someone who loves him.”

“You’re right. He does. He deserves someone way better than me.”

She waited in silence for you to continue. She seemed oddly unbothered by your guilty demeanor, but was clearly unsatisfied with your vagueness.

“I cheated,” you said quietly, unable to meet her prying gaze. 

“Okay. Not a great look for you. Does he know?”

“No, but I’m gonna tell him. I know it’ll break his heart, but I can’t lie to him,” you divulged way more to her than you’d intended to, but she was a good listener, “I wish I could take it back. I hate myself for doing it.”

“We all feel that way sometimes, but what’s done is done.”

Her nonchalance was getting to you. Is this how she felt about what she did with Leon?

“Can I ask you something?”

She didn’t respond, just waited for you to speak again.

“Did Leon tell you we were together?”

“He didn’t, but I did suspect there was someone. The signs were there - bobby pins on the bathroom counter, a thong in his laundry basket, you know, things a man wouldn’t have without a woman.”

“Why did you do it?” you asked the question that’d been bouncing around your mind since you’d let her in the house. 

Did you really want the answer? Yeah, no matter how much it might hurt, it was worth knowing.

“Why did he do it? Why did you do it?” she said.

You agreed with Chris’ assesment - mysterious. Mysterious had an undeniable allure, but it did not answer your questions, only posed more. Despite your frustration, you ended up answering her.

“I don’t know. I guess I just wasn’t thinking. I was pissed at him for sleeping with you and I was lonely.”

Talking to Ada felt similar to going to therapy, but if your therapist was the oracle at Delphi with her cryptic sort of guidance.

“I see,” she said, looking you up and down with her x-ray-like eyes. Ada, to your surprise, gave you her explanation in return, “He gives me a sort of love that I don’t deserve, and that I can’t get from anyone else, and he’s stuck in the past. He thinks of me as a person that doesn’t exist anymore. We like the people we pretend to be.”

“Do you think he’s stuck on you?”

“In some way, maybe, in the way that we all get stuck in the past, all too stubborn to change, but I still think that given the choice, he’d pick you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I spoke to him, recently, in Moscow. He talked about you.”

Un-fucking-fair that she got to see him. What if they-?

“Did you guys do anything?”

“No. I proposed the idea to him, and he said no. He said he’s in love.”

“And I broke his heart. I'm the worst person ever.”

You wanted to cry, bang your head against the wall, crumple up and die. 

“You’re not. You’re not, I’m not, Leon’s not. There are people in labs across the world creating viruses to wipe out millions. And they sleep well at night.”

“So, because other people suck worse, I should be okay with what I did?”

“No, but you’re young and naive. You make mistakes. I met Leon when he was around your age. He made worse mistakes because he was lusting after some woman,” Ada spoke of the past with a unique glint in her eye. Not quite nostalgia, but close.

You listened intently. She sure was interesting, that was for sure. 

“You got all wet over a second meathead of a man and cheated, but at least no one died,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I’m gonna break his heart. That’s like, practically killing him.” 

“You’re so dense. Perfect match for Leon.”

Ouch. 

“You care, Leon cares, and for some reason, I care enough to come here and try to play love-guru. You can work this out. You can give him a type of love that I cannot, and with all he’s been through, he deserves it.”

If Ada turned out to be just an apparition of your conscience, the angel and the devil on your shoulders, you wouldn’t be surprised. You’d despised her since the moment you found the condom in the trash can, despite the fact that you’d never met. It was easier to put it onto her than Leon. A faceless, nameless threat to your relationship. 

“I feel bad for hating you,” you apologized to her - not that she knew about your feelings in the first place. It just felt like the right thing to do. 

“Don’t. You have a right to be angry.”

“Do you wanna stay over?” You asked pathetically, still looking for friends wherever you could find them.

“Even more like Leon than I thought,” she said, and this time it didn’t seem like a jab. Her face said she found you a bit charming. “I can’t. I have somewhere I have to be,” she let you down easy.

“Well, I hope to see you again soon.”

She hesitated, but said, “Likewise.”

You hugged her before she left, which clearly took her by surprise. She was rigid in your arms, but seemingly tried to loosen up a bit, and gave you a friendly pat on the back.

At the door, she turned back and said, “Have you had your period recently?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Take a test.”

You knew what kind of test she was talking about, but what in the fucking world? You didn’t have time to ask, though because she was already gone, practically disappearing into thin air. 

Leon had now been gone for around four weeks at this point. Still lonely, still guilty, but starting to feel a little nauseous in a way that couldn’t be accounted for by any of those feelings you had. 

You assumed Ada was just taking a shot in the dark with her whole ‘take a test’ thing, but maybe she was onto something. 

Your period wasn’t always on time, sure, but there was a normal range and it was obvious to you, even without tracking the days, that it had been too long since your last one. You really should’ve been more diligent about taking your birth control pills. “You’re young, you make mistakes.” Maybe this was what Ada meant.

You bought a pregnancy test. You spent five minutes waiting for the results to appear, sitting on the toilet while the plastic stick was next to you on the bathroom counter. You could easily glance over, but you didn’t dare look until you knew the five minutes were up. 

You took a deep breath, crossed your fingers, and picked up the test. 

Two lines. Clear as day. Couldn’t be a hallucination. At best, it could be a false positive. Luckily, you had purchased a three-pack, so a few hours later you took another one. 

Two lines. 

For good measure - though you were pretty sure two false positives would be so rare is was almost impossible - you took the third. 

Two lines.  

Good things do not come in threes. Three pairs of two little lines and one pregnant woman, alone in her bathroom. Good things do not come in any number. Good things do not happen to you. 

You had to tell Leon. But you’d have to get through Hunnigan first. You’d have to get to Hunnigan first. 

It was difficult to get her contact info, but you were persistent. Reluctantly, you called Claire, Jill, even Chris. None of them had any way to contact her. Claire however, gave you Sherry’s number. The little girl turned DSO agent he’d mentioned.

Sherry, god bless her, had Hunnigan's number and was nice enough to give it to you. You made the call and picked up on the first ring. 

“Hello?” Hunnigan's voice was more pleasant than you expected. Based on the fact that Leon was always so stressed when he picked up her calls, you'd expected her to be rude or aggressive.

“Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m Leon’s girlfriend”. You sounded like a high schooler when you said it like that. 

“Okay,” she said in a neutral tone, waiting for more information. 

“I need to speak with him.”

“I’m sorry, but that would go against all protocol.”

“It’s really important.”

“I understand that, but his life is on the line, and I cannot let him get distracted.”

“Please, just trust me, it’s so important. You have no idea.”

“What do you need to tell him? Maybe I can relay the message.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, ‘oh’ is right.

There was a pause before you asked for the second time, “Can I talk to him?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. It would give him extra things to worry about, and he’s already incredibly overworked and stressed right now. Distraction can be the direct cause of death. I cannot have him get distracted by anything. It’s for his own safety, and I hope you can understand that.”

You wanted to tell her to fuck off or to force her to patch you through, but instead you just hung up. Great. You’re pregnant and alone. 

There were countless unanswered questions, making you feel queasier than you did before. 

How can I tell my parents? How can I tell anyone? Who do I even have to tell? What should I do? Give birth in 8 months or get an abortion? What would Leon want? What if Leon doesn’t even want me back?

The one you typed into the search bar was: How do I get rid of morning sickness? You spent the following few hours curled up on the bathroom floor. No, this was your retribution. 

As much as you felt like you should keep it to yourself for a while, you ended up having lunch with Jill. You figured it would be better to not speak to Chris, and on the off chance that you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut, you were wary about speaking to Claire for the time being. That whole situation was one you needed to talk out with Leon before anyone else. Jill seemed like a safer option. Plus, she gave off such a mature, pragmatic vibe that made you feel like she’d be the type of person you’d want to call for advice. To be honest, she reminded you a lot of Leon. Maybe if you could tap into her thinking, you could tap into Leon’s on some level. 

Jill offered to buy you lunch - a friend and a meal was a win-win. You convinced her to go to a diner with you, not letting her in on your little secret until later. You were already getting cravings - milkshakes, pickles, you name it. 

At some point during your meal, you couldn’t keep hold of the secret any longer, it was eating you up inside. 

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out.

Jill spit out her soda. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” 

Dammit! You had the worst track record with making friends. 

“It’s okay,” she said, wiping herself off with a napkin. 

She stared at you for a moment once she’d finished dabbing the spill out of her clothes. 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. That’s…”

“Not great, yeah, I know.”

“It sucks that you have to go through that alone. I shouldn’t even ask because it’s none of my business, but have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“It’s a scary decision, but I’m here for you no matter what you choose, and I’m sure Leon would feel the same.”

“You think?”

“Positive. He’s a good guy underneath all of the bullshit. Plus, he’s crazy about you.”

“I just wish I could tell him.”

“I know. I wish there was a way I could help you there, but I can’t. I have no way of reaching him. Did you end up getting in touch with Hunnigan? Is that why you asked for her number?”

“Yeah, I did, and Claire gave me Sherry’s number who gave me Hunnigan’s.”

“I assume Hunnigan said you couldn’t talk to Leon.”

“Yep.”

“That fucking sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, but I’m glad I have people here who are good to me, like you, for example.”

You realized that may have sounded a little bit cheesy, but what the heck, you thought, you were a pregnant woman, dealing with hormonal changes, it was okay to get sappy. 

“Yeah, you have me. And Claire, and Chris, and I guess you know Sherry now, too.”

It was definitely not time to tell Jill about the situation with Chris. One bombshell was enough for one lunch outing. 

You ended up talking to Claire as well, managing to keep the Chris situation out of the conversation. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” Claire greeted you with a hug. 

“I’m okay.”

You weren’t feeling super well, so you’d invited her over to your place - well, Leon’s place - rather than asking her to go out with you. 

“You sure? You’re looking a little pale. Do you think you could be coming down with something?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I mean, I’m - I’m pregnant.”

“Congratulations?”

You shook your head.

“I’m sorry?”

You gave her a little hand gesture to indicate that her answer was “close enough" to whatever reaction the situation should've warranted. Honestly, there wasn't a perfect reaction to that kind of news.

“Now you know why I’ve been sticking around the house.”

“Morning sickness?”

“Yeah. It sucks.”

“Sure does. Not that I’ve ever experienced it, but I’ve seen it in action and it takes a strong woman to be able to handle it.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m very strong when I’m sobbing into a toilet bowl.”

“Have you gotten in touch with Leon? I know I gave you Sherry’s number…”

“I did talk to Sherry, and she gave me Hunnigan’s info, but Hunnigan wouldn’t let me talk to Leon.”

“Did you tell her you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“And she still wouldn’t let you talk to him?”

“Nope.”

“I would rarely ever say this about another woman because I think it’s pretty sexist, but what a bitch! I can’t believe she’d do that to you.”

“I definitely thought that at first, but I know she’s just trying to protect him. Who knows how he’d take the news.”

“I’m sure he’d just wanna be there for you.” She put an arm around your shoulder. 

“I hope so. I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation.”

“There isn’t a ‘supposed to’. You do what’s right for you, and you only. Don’t worry about what anyone else might think because I’ll be there for you, and so will Leon, and everyone else.”

“You sure?”

“100%”

“Have you made an appointment yet?”

“For?”

“With an Obgyn. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to go to one. No matter what you choose.”

“I guess I have to make one, then.”

“I could go with you, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I know it’s not the same as Leon, but you shouldn’t have to go alone.”

And she did accompany you. The nurse asked if you two were partners and you explained that she was just a friend. The nurse seemed hesitant to let ‘just a friend’ come with you into the ultrasound room, but when she saw Claire holding your shaky hand, she let go of whatever was holding her back from allowing Claire to accompany you. 

The gel they put on your stomach is cold. The thing that looks like a grocery store scanner that they use to look into your uterus feels weird. They press harder into your skin with that one than you’d think. Claire holding your hand kept you from swatting the woman’s hand away. 

The three of you studied the monitor, though the nurse was the only one who could really tell what was going on.

“I can see an embryo in there.”

You sighed, letting reality sink in.

“I can see that you’re nervous. I won’t pry into your situation, but just know that there are many options available and no one is here to judge you for whatever you choose.” 

“Thanks,” you said simply. 

She was nice, but it didn’t make the choice any easier. It was tiring to hear everyone say ‘we support you’ and ‘we won’t judge you’, when all you wanted was for someone to tell you what to do. Ideally, you wanted Leon's input. You'd still have to make your own choice, but it'd be nice to hear his thoughts, considering he got you knocked up in the first place, and you definitely couldn't afford to take care of a baby on your own. 

You saw the doctor briefly and told her you’d think over your decision, but when she was about to leave the room, you remembered the dream you’d had the night before. You held a newborn baby in your arms while Leon doted on you both. Real life was never as perfect as it was in your dreams, but you could see a real future like that with him. 

“What if I want to keep the baby?” you asked when the doctor returned.

“That’s one of the multiple valid choices. If you decide that, I would suggest you book another prenatal appointment about a month or so out from now.”

“Where can I do that?”

“I can give you a slip to take to the front desk and they can get you set up.”

You and Claire were alone for a moment while you redressed. 

“So, you’ve made your decision?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I think so. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think Leon would want me to choose this?”

“I can’t speak for Leon, but I’m sure he would want you to do what you think is best.”

The diplomatic answer.

“But if it were up to him, would he want to be a father?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t think it was in his plans, at least, not for some time. You know, he’s been through some shit, and his job is hardcore. He’d be a good dad, though.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah. If only you could’ve met him when Sherry was a kid. He was so good with her, sometimes in a way that I couldn’t be. I mean, I like to think I was a good mother figure for her, but he was a really good father figure. So, if I had to guess, I'd say that in any other life, Leon would’ve been a father already. If Raccoon City never happened, I think he’d be a dad.”

“Well, what about in this life?”

“It seems like he’s already on his way to fatherhood, and he doesn’t even know it.”

It was late in your first trimester when you got a call, a good call, the call you’d been waiting for. 

“Hey, baby, I’m coming home,” Leon said, so blissfully ignorant of the situation that it stung.

Still, you were overjoyed to hear his voice. 

“Yay! You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you,” you said.

“I actually do. I’ve been missing you for the same amount of time.”

Oh yeah. That’s true. Brain fog. 

You weren’t going to tell him over the phone. He’d have a heart attack. The hours waiting for him felt longer than all the weeks he’d been away combined. 

When he got home, Leon settled on the couch with his feet up while you paced the room. He had a glass of whiskey - something you thought he’d given up, but you weren’t going to judge him for it. He was clearly exhausted and honestly, it might be better if he mellowed out a little before you gave him the news. 

“Baby, what’s up?”

“I gotta tell you something. Actually, multiple things. Don’t freak out.”

Not yet at least . 

“Okay… You wanna sit next to me while you tell me?”

You sat down next to him, still restless. 

“Do you want the bad news or the… surprising news first?”

“Good news?”

You shook your head. “Let me just get the bad news off my chest because it’s making me sick not telling you.”

The other news is making me feel sick too, but for a slightly different reason. 

“Okay…” Leon’s inquiring eyes seemed onto what you were about to say.

“I cheated on you and I’m really really really sorry.”

You broke down immediately, and his instinct to protect you took over any anger he felt. He held you in his arms and rubbed your back.

“Breathe, baby.”

“I’m so sorry, Leon. I love you, and I ruined everything. I fucked it all up because I was lonely and pissed off at you for what you did with Ada.”

“I understand,” he said with a sigh. He wasn’t happy, that was for sure, but he continued to soothe you with his steady, reassuring hands. 

Once you’d stopped crying, Leon said, “Who was it?” He was firm, but not angry 

“Chris,” you said, already on the verge of tears again, “I’m so so so sorry.”

Your words came out all in one breath, all laced with anxiety. Your whole world was about to crumble in front of you.

“Stop saying you’re sorry! It’s not helping either of us. I understand that you’re sorry.”

He’d never been harsh with you before. It was unsettling. The waterworks returned.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used that tone with you. Even if I’m upset, that was wrong of me to snap at you.” Leon pressed you to his chest while he apologized and you could feel his heartbeat. Fast, and yet he was so focused on calming you. 

“How exactly did this come about?” He asked. 

“I was really lonely and so I texted Claire, but I was too shy to tell her that I wanted to hang out so I asked her if she knew how to change your AC, and she said no, but she could send Chris and I just accepted because I couldn’t tell her the truth about the AC…”

To your surprise, Leon was laughing.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because that’s hilarious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still upset about you cheating, but it just sounds like a dumb porn plot. You can’t figure out the stupid air conditioner so you have to call the maintenance man to come fuck you about it.”

After he got his giggling out, he sighed and said, “I doubt the rest is funny, but I still think I should know what happened.”

“It just happened.”

“What happened?”

“We made out and he…” You made a motion indicating ‘fingering’. 

“And then?” He sounded impatient, probably thinking you were holding back something. 

Well, you were, but not about the cheating. 

“And then nothing. Haven’t spoken to him since.”

“You fucked up, that’s for sure.”

“But please don’t get mad at him. He was the one who stopped me when I offered to ‘return the favor’. He told me not to tell you because he felt really bad and didn’t want to ruin our relationship. He wants you to be happy.”

“That doesn’t make him better than you.”

“I know.”

“You said you were pissed at me? That’s why you did it?”

“I missed you and was pissed at the whole world, but mostly because I asked Chris about who you slept with and I basically forced him to tell me, and he told me about Ada. Just hearing about your relationship with her and thinking about her in your bed and how you just expected me to never find out.”

You couldn’t hide the lingering bitterness when you thought about him intentionally hiding her from you. 

“I know. It was wrong of me to do that, and I’m sorry. There’s no relationship, though, just so you know. Me and Ada, we've never been in a relationship.”

“But you love her.”

“I do not love her.”

“But you did.”

“Maybe, but things change. I might’ve loved her 20 years ago, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters now is us, and working our shit out.”

He still wants to work things out? Well, that’ll be short-lived. Might as well bite the bullet and spill.

“Can I tell you the other thing?”

“There’s more?” Leon gulped down the last of what was in his glass and poured himself the equivalent of a shot which he also downed before gesturing for you to continue. 

“So, the more shocking thing that I mentioned.”

“I don’t know what else could shock me more, but go ahead.”

“I’m pregnant.”

He was silent, looking at your stomach as if he didn’t believe you. You didn’t have a bump yet, but that was to be expected at this point in the pregnancy. 

“Do you wanna see the ultrasound?” you asked, feeling shy about it since you couldn't decipher his reaction. 

“You got an ultrasound?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to two appointments.”

“Alone?”

“No, Claire went with me.”

You got up and pulled the pictures of your purse.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he mumbled into his empty glass.

“Here,” you said, thrusting them at Leon. 

This was make or break. Your nerves made you feel sick to your stomach. Or maybe that was the morning sickness. 

“Wow,” he marveled at the pictures, “Where is it?”

“Here,” you pointed to the tiny embryo in the fuzzy black and white image.

“That’s in there?” he asked, pointing at your belly.

“Yep.”

“It’s not about me, but you have to make that choice pretty soon, don’t you?”

You couldn’t tell what he wanted from his tone, but you’d already made your choice. You were going to stick to your guns on this one. Yeah, you’d fucked up a lot recently, but this felt right. Unexpected, nerve-wracking, but somehow right. 

“I’ve been planning on keeping the baby... becoming a mom.”

“Okay. Then, I’ll be a dad.”

“Really? It’s that simple?”

“I think so.”

“But I fucked everything up and you have this weird job and we’re not married and -”

He cut you off with a kiss. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you.”

“Really? Even after everything?”

“Do you hate me? Even after everything I did?”

“No.”

“Then I think you understand.”

“Do you hate Chris?”

“No,” he sighed and paused, “but I’m going to have a talk with him. Does he know about the baby?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Who knows? Other than Claire.”

“Jill and Hunnigan.”

“Hunnigan knows?”

“Yeah, I asked her to patch me through to you, so I could tell you, but she said no.”

“She said no?” Leon looked like he was about to snap again, you could see him tense up. 

“She was just looking out for you, didn’t want to let you get distracted and get yourself accidentally killed.”

“No, fuck that! I’m done with the DSO dictating everything about my life. They took away any plans for a normal life, a normal job, having normal friendships, every vacation I’ve ever tried to have, but now they’re fucking with my family? No. That’s it. I quit.”

Family? Family, you were going to be a family. Those pregnancy hormones were close to making you tear up.

“You said you can’t quit.”

“I’m going to.”

“What if they kill you?”

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I’d kill them first. They shouldn’t have trained me in combat if they wanted me to be a target.”

“You’re willing to put your life on the line?”

“I put my life on the line for way less for the last 3 months. For my kid? Hell yeah, I’ll put my life on the line.”

“Your kid,” you echoed, rubbing your tummy.

“Yeah, our kid, our little baby.”

Leon was smiling, really smiling. Okay, maybe good things do happen to you.

[cupid-cakes]

The Bride x Fem Reader

You had only joined ARGUS a month ago as an agent. For one of your first missions you were stuck with Rick Flag and the team of freaks he oversees while in Pokolistan.

After having to sit beside Dr Phosphorus in a jet for a few hours, which undoubtedly has made you worried about your health, you’re standing outside of the palace trying to light a cigarette. Of course with your luck, your lighter is refusing to spark even the smallest flame.

You groan audibly as you lean back against the stone wall of the palace. You gaze up at the sky with half lidded eyes, they widen as a large shadow falls through the air and lands on her black boots make contact with the ground. She straightens her posture and locks is at you, pausing at the sight of you. “Shit…”

You both stare at each other for a moment before the door beside you opens and Nina pokes her head out, gasping and shrinking back as she sees. “It was her idea! I was just trying to keep her out of trouble, I swear!” Nina rambles as your hand reaches to your belt, your palm lying on your firearm.

“You’re both going back inside. Now.” You try to keep your voice stern and steady but it’s hard when The Bride is towering over you and staring down at you with those vicious, enchanting red eyes. Nina squeaks out more apologies but you aren’t listening, staring at the Bride as she sighs, taking a step toward you. And before you could pull your weapon out she throws you over her shoulder.

You kick your legs as the Bride keeps a firm grip on your waist as your stomach presses against her shoulder. She gives Nina, who looks horrified, a glance. “We’ll have her back before Rick knows it” Though she sounds more annoyed by the inconvenience then sure of her plan.

Nina gives you a sympathetic look as the Bride walks to the exit of the walls that surround the palace. A awkward cab ride and a bribed driver later and the three of you now arrive in front of a decrepit mansion. The Bride now has an arm wrapped around your stomach, holding you up by her waist as you hover over the ground.

“You two will be in so much fucking trouble when Flag realizes your gone!” You protest squirming against her hold as the Bride throws open the rotten doors of the mansion, dropping you on the floor. You grunt as you land face down on the floor, the Bride kneeling down in front of you, her face close to yours as you can’t help the slight blush on your cheeks or how your eyes drift down to her red lips. “So will you if Rick realizes you let two prisoners escape” Her tone sounds almost mocking. “But if I find what I’m looking for, he never has to know we even left.”

You go silent as her red eyes pierce through you. This was your first big mission, do you really want your superiors knowing you can’t even control the prisoners under your watch. You let out a deep sigh. “If you can’t find it in a hour, we’re leaving” The Bride stands back up and puts her hands on her hips. “The sooner I find it the sooner we leave, you two help me look” Without waiting for a response from you or Nina she walks upstairs.

You give Nina an annoyed glance as she immediately avoids your gaze before you both follow after her. The mansion from your guess is at least a century old, soot and rot now covering the floors. You pass by a large painting of who you assume is Victor and his family. Being a low level agent you didn’t have clearance to even the shock remote, but you were allowed to read the files of all the monsters in Task Force M.

Nina glances from the Bride to the portrait. “Is that your family?” She asked curiously. The Bride lets out a small scoff clearly displeasing Nina. You nudge the Bride slightly and give her a look, her eyes locking with yours before looking away quickly. “This was Victor’s home for work, his family lived up the road.” Neither you or Nina pushed any further then that.

Finally you made it up to the laboratory. Nina seemed amazed as she looked around. The Bride wasted no time searching the room as Nina walked over to you. “My father was a scientist, but he never had anything like this” You look at Nina before looking toward the Bride, “Victor wasn’t a normal scientist”

The Bride turns to you two, “If you two want to get back soon, help me look” She turns away again to continue searching, shoving books and outdated medical tools aside as she does. You walk over to her, “What are we looking for anyway?” The Bride doesn’t look up as she rummaged through papers. “A gold necklace with a pink jewel”

You turn away as she kneel on the floor, your hands shoving aside the ash and dust on the floor. It takes you twenty minutes of digging through the ashes until you see a shine. You pick the necklace up and dust it off before turning toward the Bride. You see her standing in front of the metal table in the middle of the room, seemingly lost in thought.

You sigh softly and stand up, walking behind her. You gingerly clip the necklace around her neck. She freezes and turns to you with wide eyes. You’re both silent for a few moments, staring at each other. Finally you interrupt the silence. “It suits you”

She stares at you for another few, quiet moments before she relaxes. She gives you a small nod as she turns away. That was probably as close to a ‘thank you’ you were going to get. “Can we please leave now?” Nina asks walking up beside you.

You were about to agree before stopping, your head snapping to the window as you see a tall, imposing figure floating in front of the window. You hear the Bride behind you. “Oh hells…” Circe glows you a kiss before sending a blast of glowing energy through the wall. You roll out of the way, taking the gun from your belt and firing at her. Circe laughs as the bullets are caught in her magic, before being redirected and fired back at you. You take cover behind a table.

The Bride grabs the bed in the room throwing it at Circe, you take the opportunity to grab Nina and push her out to the hallway. “Go get Flag!” You aren’t sure if she even heard you as she runs down the hall.

You turn back toward Circe and the Bride, Circe filling her hands with the magic energy as the Bride punches her in the face, Circe quickly retaliating with a blast to the chest. You run over, wrapping an arm around Circe’s neck in an attempt to either slow her down or restrain her. The Bride takes the opportunity to get a few more punches against Circe.

It doesn’t last long though as Circe throws you over her shoulder, you let out a small scream as you crash against a table. Your vision blurs as your head aches, a drip of something wet sliding down your forehead. You stumble back up to you feet as Circe and the Bride move to the balcony during the fight.

You reload and rush over, the Bride’s arms now inexplicably inflatable’s and her face bloodied. You fire at Circe’s back. A magic shield moving to protect her as some magic force drags you toward her. Circe wraps a muscular hand around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to hurt but not enough to crush your throat. She walks toward the Bride who is trying to use her now usual arms to hit her before exhaustion takes over her, slumping against the stone railing of the balcony. Your eyes meet together, her once vicious red eyes now apologetic.

The moment is short lived as Circe head-buts the Bride, sending her off the balcony. Just a moment after Circe throws you off with her. Your limbs ache as you feel the Bride’s arms around you. She moves her back take the blow of the Earth, sparing you from what would surely be a fatal fall for a human.

You open your eyes to see Nina laying beside you two, gasping for air as the tank around her head is now shattered. Your presses up against the Bride, your head laid on her chest. You close your eyes as a numbing pain takes over.

[sitehound]

Random Gumi facts because guess who came home late and is tired

She doesn’t like showing her injuries or will minimize them to not worry others. Hotaru once got so frustrated patching her up that he got teary. Ever since then, she’s tried to treat herself more or conceal injury. The doesn’t want to worry nor distress others without cause. She thinks she can handle it and she’s right for the most part, but part of her does wish she had someone who’d tend to her wounds without judgment nor scolding.

Gumi gave up smoking because Ichika hated the scent of nicotine. Her hair is also long to honor Ichika after her passing. Almost like carrying the weight of her with her in a more literal sense.

She can play electric guitar. She picked it up during college to have a rage outlet and it became a steady thing. She still plays on occasion but it’s a bit tricky finding the time.

When Gumi was still an officer, she was a homicide detective and had a high clearance rate. A lot of this was due to her tenacity.

Speaking of, Gumi is a workaholic. She’ll slow down for romantic partners and will make time for them, but if she’s single, she’s basically working all the time. Gumi is the restless sort of person who always needs something to do. This trait has been consistent since childhood and is why she tended to something high energy and effort like track.

Gumi’s resume is actually really impressive. She went to one of the top schools in Tokyo and was fast tracked to a detective. She wasn’t top of her class, but she was top ten for sure. Part of the berth she’s afforded by the Japanese government is due to her work as a police officer and her accolades. She isn’t allowed to do whatever she wants, per se, but they’ll look away if she bends a few rules because she’s useful.

Gumi isn’t not intelligent and her risks are calculated. The residual effects of Tornado on her mind have made someone naturally prone to thrill seeking even more so.

Her combat style is heavy on kicking and grappling. Being grappled by her thighs might as well be a prison sentence because you’ve been put into solitary confinement and you’re only being let out at her discretion.

She’s very picky with which yakuza she works with. This needs to be its own longer thing, but the family that she works with is one of those old school yakuza families with a certain honor code. Still criminals, but criminals with rules and their own sort of ethics. She doesn’t care for newer criminal organizations because they tend to have an emphasis on trafficking, whether it be humans or narcotics. These are the types she avoids dealings with.

Sometimes when a case has her vexed, she’ll get up and go to the fish tank near the door of Downdraft and pace around it, talking to the fish and venting to them until she can reorganize her thoughts.

[bloodinsides]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ͙͘͡★

Look, I didn’t mean to kidnap an alien.

Technically, it crash-landed on my shed, so if anything, I’m the victim here. That shed was holding sentimental junk and three unopened boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Not that it matters now. The cookies are toast. The shed is a crater. And the alien?

He’s sitting on my couch. Wearing my jacket. Eating an entire jar of peanut butter with what I assume are his hands?

But let’s rewind a little.

My name’s Juno Lake. I’m twenty-six. I run a barely-functioning conspiracy podcast called “Truth from the Basement.” I have 200 listeners, most of whom think I’m insane, and one who definitely wants to marry me. (Hey Carl! Please stop emailing me pictures of your bunker. No I am NOT interested in seeing your "limited edition" moon rocks)

Anyways...

It was supposed to be a normal Tuesday night. I was editing an episode about why pigeons are probably government surveillance drones (they never blink!!), when the power went out, the walls shook, and something roared overhead like God stubbed his toe on a comet.

Then- BOOM! Glowing light. Backyard on fire. My cat screaming. Me screaming. The usual.

I ran outside with a flashlight and a baseball bat, fully expecting to find a crashed plane or maybe a surprise SWAT team. I have done some pretty illegal things... But I never thought the SWAT team would come.

It wasn't the SWAT team, or anything I would've ever guessed.

What I found was... him.

He looked like a nightmare and a dream and a glitch in the Matrix all rolled into one. Tall, glowing faintly, breathing hard like he’d just outrun death. He was hurt, one arm limp, skin cracked with weird light leaking through and when he saw me, he flinched like I was about to shoot him.

Instead, I said, much stupidly.

“Oh my god. You’re hot.”

He passed out.

So. Yeah.

Now I have an alien. And an enormous problem. He says he can’t call for help. He says his people might not come for him even if he could. And he keeps looking at me like I’m his last hope—which, honestly, is the worst possible plan since I eat like a toddler and can't even care for myself.

I have no money. No car. No government clearance. I once got arrested for fighting a Roomba at Target because it "had a camera built in to spy on us from the government".

But sure. I’ll save an alien.

Because if I don’t… who will?

credits for divider: kantelo13

[katjohnadams]

H'okay. So. I would like to tell you about my mother, but the problem with being related to awesome people Of Note™ is that you have to be carefully vague so you don't fuckin doxx yourself. So forgive me if some of the following is imprecise.

I adore my mother. She is absolutely a legend and a role model for me. When her school was desegregated (yes, I'm a bit old but also that wasn't very long ago), she made it her mission that day to make friends with the only black girl who came to her school and sit with her at lunch. When the school called my grams to "warn" her, grams threatened them over the phone and told them they had best not bother her daughter or her friends ever again, so help her God.

My mother went into the Air Force when women were still expected to stick to clerical duties and keep their heads down. She did not fucking do that. She earned her rank through hard work, brilliance, and being too damn stubborn and too damn good for them to ignore her.

She has a master's in mathematics and is an expert in radar. I have watched this woman do literal orbital trajectory calculations in her head, like it was nothing. At 70-ish, she still leg presses 200lbs. For fun.

She had a very high level of security clearance. She was a vital part of America's Missile Defense Program. She is possibly the smartest person I know and was a national strategic asset both as an airwoman and as a private contractor. I'm pretty sure our landline was bugged several times when I was a child.

She overcame sexism, fought racism, and did what she believed served her country and her fellow human beings best. While we disagree on a lot of politics, I have never questioned the absolute truth of her soul or the power of her mind.

I tell you all this so you will understand how much I love her when I say: my mom may be one of the dumbest people I know at times. Mostly about Basic Common Sense.

Like, you know those Christmas sugar cookies with the little Christmas tree in them? The Alice and bake ones? She got those for us one year and baked them. They smelled great, so I came to the kitchen to see if I could steal one while they were still fresh.

Instead, I found my mom puzzling over the tray.

"Hey, what's up?"

"The tree didn't come out. That's so strange!"

I looked at the tray, and sure enough, instead of trees, there were just green swirls.

"Did... Did you knead the dough?"

My mother nodded, still confused. "Of course I did!" she replied, as if she would ever forget such a vital step in baking!

"... Mom."

And she did love to bake, and she was good at it! More or less. But at one point she was on a cheesecake kick. She started experimenting with flavored cream cheeses like strawberry and the like. Then Kraft released cheesecake flavored cream cheese. Naturally, she had to make that into a cheesecake! Of course!

And so I wandered into the kitchen to see my mom staring in dismay at the freshly baked cheesecake, toothpick in hand (which she had just used to poke the cheesecake for doneness and then taste).

"Is something wrong?"

"It's just the cheesecake..."

"What about it?"

"... It just tastes like cheesecake!"

"... Mom, what- what were you expecting?"

Several seconds pass as I watch this, I reiterate, genius woman consider the past few hours of her life. "Y'know, I guess it makes sense..."

In two decades, she still can't work the universal remote but she's been working with computers and programming since punch cards. She sent her first text message ever in 2021. She has likely forgotten more things about missile and radar systems than I will know about everything in my whole life, and yet coined the quote, "It's too dirty to throw in the garbage!"

I love her. She's so cool. But I really question how she spent her XP sometimes 🤣