#I TOLD YOU ID FINALLY DO SOLDIER CONTENT

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Soldier is picked to do karaoke one night at the base. He's drunk, everyones drunk. He scrolls through the songs and stops. He's found it. It's the perfect song.

This grown man belts out the best rendition of Miley Cyrus's Party in The U.S.A.

Tears are shed. Karaoke will never be the same again.

[lemmetreatya]

Maybe It’s Foreboding (Or Not) — Miguel x fem!Reader

word count: 1.9k 

content: no extreme warnings, modern au, fem!reader, reader uses female pronouns, reader commutes to work by train, reader knows basic spanish, hc that miguel speaks both irish and spanish — and that he’s irish on his father’s side (idk if this is correct or not), use of petnames, id say miguel is a bit ooc — but hes not — he just doesn’t have all that canon trauma going on sjsksk

FINALLY DID SOMETHING OF GOOD QUALITY FOR ONCE????? had to get back on my shit yktfv!!! also psa for the translations — i do not speak fluent spanish and not a lick of irish so please!! if there’s anything incorrect/needs changing, dont be afraid to tell me!! hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Your usual commute to work was barely ever eventful. It mostly consisted of you getting onto your train — hoping you’d get a seat — and feeling despondent every time you noticed no seats were available. 

Which was expected: You had to use a busy train in order to get to work on time. Any earlier and you’d have to wonder around your office’s surroundings to waste time and any later would have you clocking in late. 

This timed train was so much more convenient for pace but it just never granted you those graceful minutes to sit down. 

But alas, you stuck with it, because what else was there to complain about? The trains weren’t too full so it didn’t mean you were squashed like packed sardines and it was relatively quiet due to most passengers being too mellow at this time of morning to make any lucrative noise. 

“Sorry, Miss.” 

At first, you ignored the deep sounding words, assuming they could have been for anyone. But then a soft tap bounced just over your thigh and so you looked down to see what the disturbance was. 

Looking up at you was a man with focused eyes. He wore a plain black suit with matching trousers. His white shirt had two buttons undone and he wore no tie. You couldn’t help but noticed how tossled his hair was. Clearly he was on his way to some type of occupation.

“Would you like to sit down?” He asks. 

“Oh! I…”

You lean off from the pole you were supporting yourself on and adjust your bag on your soldier. Maybe this man was pitying you because you looked tired. You honestly weren’t and were genuinely just being comfortable, but you guess your lax composure compelled this reaction from him. 

“No. Sorry, I was just being lazy. I’m fine, you don’t need to give up your seat for me.” 

You shake your head and deny his request but the man continually persists. He was already starting to get up from his seat. 

“No, en serio, sit.” He moved his briefcase over with his foot. “Can’t have a pretty lady like you standing now, can we?”

And it’s not like you agreed; Flattery of any kind from a stranger was always met with caution, but concerning he was going out of his way to give you a seat, you guess it’d be rude to deny it. 

“Oh…How kind.” You stagnantly laugh. 

The man took your place from before, now standing over you as he held onto the pole. He placed his briefcase between his feet. As you finally sit down and change your bag from your arm to your lap, you look up at the man with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” 

He only smiles at you acutely before offering you a curt nod. That was the only interaction you had the whole ride before you got off at your stop and made your way to work. 

The next time you see the man isn’t until two days after the first ordeal and towards the end of the week. 

He sees you before you see him, regarding he boarded the train sometime before you, and instantly flags you over.

“Miss!”

Weirdly, his call made you smile, and you pot on over, not expecting much. 

“You really don’t have to.” You try as he gets up and out of his seat. He’s however already shaking his head. 

“Don’t be silly. I already told you why you do so I don’t wanna hear anymore complaining.”

With rolled lips, you nod as you meekly sit down. Having an abash austere about you, you struggle to look up at him as you speak. 

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.” 

“No need for thanks.” 

You wait several seconds before looking up to give him a communal look of gratitude but you find he’s already looking down at you. You find difficultly baring his coarse stare and so you look back down at your lap. 

Throughout the ride, you can’t help but notice how his leg kept innocently brushing against yours. 

Once again, no more words were shared between you and like before, you get up and leave for your stop once it comes. 

“You know how this goes.”

This is about the sixth time the man has offered his seat up for you, and quite frankly you do know how it goes, but it just never seems like a good enough reason to therefore take his seat. 

“Señor.” You muse with a light smile as you board the train. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Oh, but I really do. Come. Sit.”

The man is already out of the seat, hand widely displaying towards it — it’s yours. 

Despite the seatless train, most people know by now not to sit in it’s stead. The man himself is tall and wide enough to deter anyone from trying, but most reoccurring passengers know the deal as well as you do.

As you take your seat, the man smiles down at you. His smiles have gotten a lot warmer over the various interactions. Per usual, he places his briefcase down near your feet and brush his knees with yours. You believe it’s going to be another wordless journey but the man opens his mouth, closes it, before saying: 

“And please, call me Miguel.” 

He jogs your knee with his, so you were aware it was you he was talking to, but you still looked up at him with a slight expression of confusion. For some reason, it was as if moths — the Night’s Butterfly — were flitting around within the neck of your stomach. 

“Sorry?”

He sighs out of his nose. It was not out of annoyance, but as if he too was experiencing some emotions of nervousness. The man however had enough confidence to look down at you and attempt to gain your gaze. 

“As opposed to señor, call me Miguel.” 

Your mouth lets out a small ‘ah’.

“Miguel.” You repeat. 

So his name was Miguel. 

It suited him, and made slight sense concerning he seemed to know Spanish well, but even more so because it was as if he had metamorphosed right in front of you. It wasn’t a physical change, but being able to put a name to a face definitely altered your perception of him. It was as if he’d become more human. 

With a soft hum, you look up at him with an inquisitive contort. 

“Miguel.” You taste his name in his mouth once more. “Is that what you’d like me to call you or is that your actual, real, government name?” 

The man’s expression was unreadable. 

“Well, what do you think?”

You shrug, unsure why he’s asked the question, but you give your answer anyways. 

“I’d think it’d be kinda stupid for you to give your government name to a stranger on the train. So I’m guessing it’s a nickname or at least a pseudo one.” 

Miguel’s eyes clip towards the moving view behind you, before training back onto your face. 

“Looks like I’m kinda stupid then.” 

You pause, register what he’s said, and then let out a tinkling laugh as you shake your head meticulously. Miguel chuckles a few seconds after you, and he can’t help watching you as he does so. 

There’s a pause. 

“I’m not much of a stranger anymore though, right? We’re more acquaintances than anything.” He tries. 

“But Miguel, you don’t even know my name.”

“Only because you haven’t told me.” He shrugs.

This is the most quick-fire that he’s ever been but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. 

“You want my government name or the pseudo one?” You muse. 

“It’s only fair that you give me the government one.” He catches himself before adding more gently, “Only if you’re comfortable doing so and kinda stupid like me.”

Once again, you can’t help the smile that braces your mouth. You tell him your name, the government one, and Miguel knocks your knees together in concur. 

“Ah. Hermosa nombre por una hermosa dama.” [1]

He says, and regardless of whether you understood or not, you knew what he was getting at. If his words didn’t convince you then it was the silky look of— admiration? That gave him away. 

Your cheeks heated, and your head dipped. All you could force out was a humble Thank You. 

“Where I’m from, we have this saying.” 

Miguel angles his breakfast snacks in your direction and you wordlessly take a small handful. 

Surprisingly, your usual train was a lot quieter this morning. Maybe it was due to school holidays season, but there was enough space for you and Miguel to both have a seat. Your journey so far had been non-stop chatter. 

“Más í an ceann í, beidh a fhios ag do chroí sula ndéanann tú.” [2] He reprises wisely. 

It wasn’t Spanish, and you knew Miguel spoke Irish (“That old bastard was only good for one thing.”), so the translation was pretty much lost on you. 

“Is that so?” You say with a hum and a crunch. 

Miguel is also crunching on some of his snack, palm covering his mouth as he chucks the small pebbles towards the back of his throat before he’s shaking his head. 

“Nope, that was a complete fucking lie. No such saying exists like that, I just made it up on the spot.” Miguel leaves room for you to let out a burst of laughter. “But, if it was a saying, I’d live by it like it was gospel.”

Shaking your head, you finish the portion of snacks that were in your mouth before you reply. 

“Maybe you should paten it then. Make sure no one else gets the chance in saying it’s the gospel they wrote.” 

“Maybe I should patent it…” Miguel echoes to himself with a deep laugh. “Yeah, maybe I should.” 

The both of you lull into a comfortable silence. The sort of silence you could fall into with a long time friend who was low maintenance, or a family member who you tolerated sharing the living room space with. It was the type of stilling that didn’t require speech but welcomed it if it came. Mornings with Miguel were the calm before the inevitable storm and the small pick-me-up that pushed you out of bed. 

But then as you pondered how he made you feel, you realise that you only knew Miguel within the context of your work commute. You’d only ever spoken to this man within the short time that you travelled to work; Never before, never after. Had you gotten just one train earlier or later — heck, one carriage — different that fateful day, it would have inevitably changed the course of your life and the starting foundation of the friendship (?). 

Life truly was funny in how it dealt it’s cards. 

“What does it mean anyways?” You ask with piqued interest. 

Miguel makes a WTF face, a face he made often, before he’s scrunching up his packet of finished snacks and dumping it within the blue convenience store bag he had. You recognise that everything he’d purchased was in Spanish. 

“What does what mean? Be more specific.” 

“Your fake saying you lied about.” 

Miguel turns his head to look at you, those deep insightful eyes of his analysing you, searching for something. You’re not sure if he found what he was looking for. Whether he did or not, you wouldn’t know. 

The man only turns forwards again and snorts. 

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head about it.” He concludes. “You wouldn’t want to know.” 

________________________________

[1]: Beautiful name for a beautiful lady 

[2]: If she’s the one, your heart will know before you do

[2anxious2betrue]

Happy Marriage: part 2

part 1:https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/2anxious2betrue/687555004390866944?source=share

Summary: Soldier boy is looking for his wife, has anyone seen her? Its been many years, and he has come back ready to have a happy marriage. Too bad she doesn't see it that way.

Warnings: non-con, mean solider boy, DV, the 1970s

I have no idea how to tag people that have asked me to tag them. I am sorry, but I do hope you find this part 2 and enjoy. The new episode was a big shocker for me, specifically the ending. There are no spoilers here, so no worries. Also there might be some grammar mistakes, I did not have anyone look it over. Anyways enjoy :)

Part 2:

Time was running out. You were not certain where Ben was, but you knew that you couldn’t stay put in one place for too long. After seeing the news, you collected yourself and got to work. You gathered all necessary items (clothes, medicine, weapons) into a duffel bag and swung it over your shoulder. It was time to start a new life, again.

You heard a ping from your phone and quickly grabbed it to read the message. 

‘523 Mable Ave’

You dropped your phone onto the floor and slammed your foot down on it, successfully cracking and breaking the phone into small pieces. 

One final glance at your apartment, and you were out the door. You weren’t attached to the place, but you would miss the scattered memories of not having to look behind your shoulder all the time. It was still bright out when you left, people bustling and walking amongst each other on the streets. Everyone held a certain aura around themselves ever since Soldier Boy appeared again. Even though you continuously saw the repeated videos of Homelander trying to ease the public on the lack of danger, you knew it was a lie. And it seemed that the public wasn’t too convinced with Homelander’s reassurance either. 

Taking a turn into an abandoned alleyway, you began your search looking for a specific symbol. Your eyes caught the discreet symbol of a bull on the gray stone wall, and you leaped towards it. Caressing the symbol, this was your way out. Tapping the stone, you could hear that the area was hollowed out. You gave it a slightly harder tap, and the area crumbled apart leaving a small whole. You tossed the rubble away and took out the contents inside. You flipped through it, an ID and passport with a new name but your picture looking right back at you. There was also a one way ticket to Toronto, Canada leaving in a couple of hours. 

You looked past your shoulder, making sure no one saw your actions. You stashed everything into your jacket pocket and high tailed out of the location. Back in the crowded streets, you signaled for a taxi driver. After two drove by you, the third finally stopped pulling down his window and asking you where you were going. 

You opened the back door and placed your belongings beside you, but before you could shut the door a hand grabbed the door frame. He pulled open the door for his wide body to stand next to yours. 

“There you are honey, I’ve been looking all over for you”. Your mind did not register what was happening, but his deep timber voice brought memories to your body. With ease he pushed your body to the side allowing his body to sit in the car. He closed the door behind him. 

The taxi driver said something, but you were numb. You did not understand what was going on, this felt unreal. You were certain that you had more time. 

You glanced towards him from the corner of your eye, he was dressed casually not in his usual Supe outfit. He told the taxi driver a new location to drive to, and the driver didn’t even question it. You scooted further away from him and slowly moved your hand to open the door. 

“Don’t even think about it”. You fully looked at him then, his eyes were staring daggers into yours. His facial features hadn’t changed since the last time you saw him. He looked exactly the same but his aura gave a darker twist than even before. 

You gave one small nod of your head to give the allusion of appeasing him. He still thought you were his obedient submissive wife, but times have changed. 

You reached for the door handle again and showed it open, flinging the car door towards oncoming traffic. The driver exclaimed loudly, but you didn’t hear the rest of it as you jumped out of the moving car. Your body rolled onto the street, you could feel scratches and bruises already healing as you forced your body to get up and make a run for it. 

Cars honked at you, as you ran across the road looking for an escape route. There was no time for you to glance over to see if he was following you but you knew he was. It seemed like anarchy was occurring around you as cars drove into one another and screams filled your ears. Thudding, thumping, and screaming all around you. Everything was too much, and you couldn’t process it all, no ideas were coming to mind other than run faster. 

You heard your name being yelled out at you but you didn’t stop. 

You wouldn’t stop no matter what, because the alternative would be a much worse faith. The world saw Soldier Boy as a superhero, you saw him for who he truly was. A sociopath. 

1971

The room was silent except for the repeated ticking of the clock. Any moment now your husband will come home. This used to bring joy to you but as the years went by, the fame increased, you began to see new and dark sides of him. 

First it was Vought’s idea that your marriage should be kept a secret from the public, Ben explained it was for your safety. You agreed, because you didn’t know any better. He truly cared for you, and many people wanted to hurt him, therefore you. 

But it didn’t stop there, he would repeatedly come home with blood all over his suits. Your first initial reaction was to be worried for him but he would always smile and say it wasn’t his. 

More and more Ben would change but you would find excuses for his actions, after all he saved the world from Nazi’s. Then one day he decided that the outside world was too dangerous for you. He did not want you to leave the house without him. Eventually you weren’t allowed to leave the house at all. 

You remembered the day he forcibly injected compound V into your system. He held you the whole night while you were in pain. He rocked you back and forth, whispering reassurance into your ear. He promised things would get better and a bright future would be ahead for the both of you. He exclaimed his love for you. 

Now you sit still watching the time tick by waiting for your husband to come home. His words from the past empty promises that were not fulfilled, instead grief overtook you. You knew what lay within your husband and it was not what the public saw, it was not who you married. This person did not care about no one but his own selfish desires, which included you playing the role of a domestic house wife that always obeyed. 

The door creaked open but you sat still, not moving an inch.

“Honey, I’m home”

You glanced towards the direction of his voice but refused to get up and greet him. You were tired of it all. 

“Honey?”

Silence. 

He waited for you to appear, for you to answer, and once he realized he wasn’t going to get it you heard his frustrated sigh. 

His sock clad feet made thudding sounds on the wood floor as he approached you. You could feel his eyes on you as he made his way, he stopped behind you. 

“When will you learn” 

He grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked it back. Your head jerked with his harsh movement, and you were forced to look up at him. He sneered down at you. 

“I give and I give, and this is the thanks I get?” He gestured with his other arm. “All that I ask is for you to be a good wife, don’t I deserve that?” He questioned. 

Tears began to blur your eyesight, the pain from his grip intensifying as the seconds went by. You didn’t answer him, closing your eyes allowing the tears to trickle down your cheeks. 

“Stop being such a crybaby”. 

His grip on your hair tightened more and he finally swung you over from the couch, you landed harshly on your back. 

“Aw baby, that’s ok. I’m here”. His deep voice was mocking you, as he straddled your waist. His heavy weight prevented you from sitting up. You groaned from the impact, the throbbing in your head slowly disappearing. 

His hand reached towards your cheek, tracing the soft flesh down to your throat. Goosebumps littered your skin, his touch used to bring joy and pleasure, now you weren’t sure what feelings you held towards him. 

You lifted your right hand towards him, and with your full force pushed him away from you. He stumbled off of you allowing a small opportunity of escape from his assault. You turned your body and crawled your way away from him. Your freedom was short lived, he grabbed your foot and pulled you back towards him. 

He clicked his tongue. “Honey, where do you think you’re going?” 

He wrestled you back into the previous position, with him straddling your body down to the floor. This time he also had your hands pinned to the side. His face was hovering above yours, his eyes looking deep into you. 

Shutting your eyes, you no longer wanted to look at him. You wanted to escape from this horrible reality but he wouldn’t allow you. You felt his breath on your face as he leaned closer to you and locked your lips together. His lips were rough against yours, a punishing move. 

You didn’t respond to his actions, so he bit your bottom lip drawing blood. He suckled at the wound and caressed your lip with the tip of his tongue. A reluctant moan escaped you, as he moved his right hand away from your wrist to your breasts. 

His movements were both gentle and demanding. None of his actions were to bring you pleasure, he was doing this to punish you. To punish for your actions and remind you where your place was. 

He groaned into your mouth as you felt his length harden against you, he began to move his hips against you causing friction. He pulled his lips away from yours, and looked at his work. You were laying breathless beneath him, hair tousled, lips swollen, and reluctantly extremely aroused. 

He smirked down at you. 

“My little slut”. 

You turned your head away from him, but he grabbed your chin back to look at him. 

“Are you going to be a good or naughty girl today?” 

You refused to answer him. 

“I like it when you're naughty”.

He let go of your chin, but abruptly leaned towards your ear and whispered. “My naughty slut is going to be punished today”. His breath tickled your skin as his tongue darted out and licked the bottom of your earlobe before biting it harshly. 

You tried to shove him away from you but this time he didn’t budge. More tears built at the corner of your eyes as he wouldn’t let you go. 

“Ben please”

He put more pressure on your body as he leaned his own body on yours, even with your enhanced strength you were no match to him. 

“Please stop”

His tongue made a trail down your jaw, to your neck, and trailed kisses around your collarbone. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. 

“I love you baby.”

His baritone voice whispered into you. 

“I-I love you too”. Your voice was a small whimper compared to his. Even through all his actions, your response wasn’t a lie. You truly did love him, and you despised yourself for that. 

“I love you so much that I would do anything for you. I would kill everyone on this earth, just so I could be alone with you”. 

“I know”. 

He pushed his body up and stood on both his feet looking down at you. His movement finally allowed you freedom to move, you too got up from your position. Standing straight, you waited for his next move, never knowing what was truly going on in his head. 

He moved away from you and back to the couch, sitting down and spreading his legs. 

“Come here”

“Why”

“Don’t be fucking stupid” He rolled his eyes and gestured for you to come to him. “It's time for your punishment”.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

[astralaffairs]

so hear me out- mafia!thom where mc is a spy! working with the rival group or the government (probably run by hamilton) and gets caught? I’m just a simp for e2l~

ok but this prompt is FUN !!!!! ugh the tension

in which thom is a meanie >:( and james isn’t a softie

-------

“...one of Hamilton’s soldiers. Yeah, we found her down by the docks with a couple others; looked like they were trying to make a hit where we planned our drop.”

“Really? What happened to the others?”

“Got away. She was stationed closest to us, but by the time we got our hands on her, everyone else was starting to split.”

“Some loyalty.”

When Y/N found herself gradually beginning to drift into consciousness, disembodied voices polluting the dank, cold air around her, she found a splitting pain in her head and a dull ache in her shoulders. Cautiously, she cracked an eye open, squinting in the low light as she found herself in some clichéd, nondescript warehouse. Figures.

Her ass was getting sore from the metal folding chair she’d woken up tied to (seriously, they couldn’t have sprung for anything more luxurious?), and the harsh metal of the handcuffs around her wrists was digging into her skin. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out, if only vaguely, two — likely male — figures standing leaned against the wall, chatting about her circumstance as casually as if it were the weather. She sniffled, her nose running in the cold, and she itched to wipe at it. She sniffled harder.

“...She awake?”

“It sounds to me like she is.”

Y/N’s pulse began to accelerate as she heard footsteps echoing across the concrete floor, headed in her direction. She didn’t dare lift her gaze. She searched for any way out of the bind she was in — even if she could pick off the handcuffs, her ankles were tied to each of the chairs’ legs.

“Glad to see you conscious.” The voice was flat, cold as he finally addressed her, and Y/N swallowed hard. “What’s your name?”

She didn’t answer, head still bowed, instead responding with, “Where am I?”

Her tone was gruff, as menacing as she could manage with as small, weak as she felt, but the man who’d addressed her laughed. “Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours. Surely, you understand the concept of a quid-pro-quo?”

“You first.” Her glare was burning as she forced herself to look him in the eye, and while the man next to him looked annoyed, he remained entirely undeterred.

“I’m rather surprised that you think yourself in a position to be making demands.”

She scowled. “C’mon, what d’you have left to lose, telling me where we are while I’m your captive? God knows you’re just going to end up moving me, assuming I live that long.”

“A bold assumption,” one of the men said, tone dry and irked, but the man directly in front of Y/N gave him a tired look.

“Aaron,” he warned. “I’ll handle this.”

“Then handle it”

He visibly rolled his eyes as he turned back to Y/N, and the other man (Aaron, apparently), retreated to the outskirts of the expansive room, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Anyway,” he went on, and Y/N huffed, yanking at the rope binding her arms to the chair. She knew it was futile, but it was more for her discomfort than any genuine attempt to escape. “It seems to me you have even less left to lose than we do. And you must know that we have other, less pleasant means of getting what we want, so it is in your own interest to comply.”

Y/N hesitated a moment — surely, once they’d taken her captive, they’d rooted through her belongings, opened her wallet, screened her for weapons, and checked her ID. Was this just some kind of intimidation technique? A power play? He was unfortunately correct; she didn’t have much to lose.

“My name’s Y/N,” she grumbled, finally. “As though you haven’t already torn through all my documentation.”

“How perceptive of you. Most try a few pseudonyms first.” His smile was serene. “This just might be fun.”

“What might be fun? Torturing and killing me? Throwing my body out to sea?” she bit back, the fury in her gaze never wavering, but he raised an eyebrow.

“What would make you think such a thing?” Mocking offense saturated his voice.

“I know you’re part of Jefferson’s fucking mob.” She yanked at her handcuffs; they clanked loudly against the chair. “I’ve heard about what you do to people.”

“Oh, have you? Thomas will be pleased with our notoriety.” As if on cue, three pairs of footsteps echoed behind Y/N — one of them must have been Aaron’s, as he was suddenly nowhere to be found, but the satisfied smile the man in front of her wore told her that she wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Her eyes widened. Surely, they didn’t bring Jefferson himself to come see her, right? Dealing with captives was grunt work, not the responsibility of a mafia boss. She tugged and picked aggressively at her handcuffs, desperate to find a lock she’d be able to release.

“James.” The voice came from just behind her, a sadistic mirth in the man’s tone as he addressed the man who stood before her (James, apparently). The footsteps stalled at the exact moment Y/N grunted, throwing her shoulders forward with the link of the handcuffs caught on the chair’s edge. To think that she might actually be able to break her hands free was a desperate hope, but the man behind her laughed — not a taunting, mocking laugh, but one that made it clear how genuinely entertaining he was finding her pathetic struggle.

“I gotta say, when you told me you got one of Hamilton’s crew, I didn’t believe you at first.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine when he circled her, and though she didn’t have any desire to look him in the eye, her curiosity overwhelmed her. When he reached her front, Thomas Jefferson, in the flesh, blood, and magenta business attire, crouched before her, and she swallowed roughly. He still managed to dwarf the chair to which she was tied. “But that mark is unmistakable, huh?”

Her skin burned as his gaze fixed on her neck, where she’d been branded just above her collarbone upon being sworn in as a member of Alexander’s mob. She turned her head away from him.

“She isn’t just any of his soldiers, either.” While James’s voice came from her left, Jefferson didn’t move, watching her with pleased intrigue. “She’s a Hamilton by blood.”

His eyes flashed with delight; his grin widened. “Oh, is she, now?”

With her head turned, Y/N inadvertently met James’s content stare, and though she didn’t waste a moment in tearing her gaze away, Jefferson occupied the remainder of her line of vision. She couldn’t help it when he caught her eye, and she couldn’t seem to look away. The way he watched her was predatory.

James hummed in confirmation. “His sister.”

“No.” His surprise was unmistakable, as was his perverse triumph. When she sneered back at him, he finally drew himself up to his full height, giving a satisfied chuckle. He turned to James. “Where would I be without you?”

“Same place, worse administration.”

“You got that right,” Jefferson said. “Just think about everything we’re gonna be able to do with her. She’s just the leverage we’ve been lookin’ for.”

“We searched her when she arrived, but nothing she had on her person gave us any new information. Her phone was a burner.”

“Normally, I’d call that disappointin’, but,” —Jefferson glanced back at her with a smug smile, if only for a fleeting moment— “we don’t needa dig up any of their communications when we’ve got the primary source all to ourselves.”

“If she’s really a Hamilton, I doubt she’s just going to talk that easily.” A feminine voice came from behind Y/N; she’d assumed Jefferson had entered flanked only by men. “Don’t get overconfident.”

“‘Course not, Maria. I know the limits of my own strength.” Y/N resisted rolling her eyes. “But I can tell she’s gonna be fun to break.”

She shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut; she wasn’t sure if she was more disgusted by the words they were saying or by how they were talking about her as though she wasn’t even there to listen. Maria scoffed. “Be careful. We need her responsive if we’re going to use her as bait.”

“Please. Bait’s thinkin’ too short-term. We can do a whole lot more with her than that.”

“Seriously? But if we keep her around—”

“I’m sitting right here, you know.” Y/N cut them off forcefully, looking up unabashedly with rage in her gaze. No one seemed so much as taken aback by it, hardly reacting to her outburst, and Jefferson met her eyes with an entertained smile, taking a step toward her.

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, we know.” As he leaned down, Y/N could feel him looming over her, and any of her confidence in her actions was leveled. He hooked his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him, and she grit her teeth.

“No one’s forgettin’ about you, here. After all, you’re the guest of honor,” he cooed, and his soft, condescending tone made her skin crawl. When she tried to jerk away from his touch, he gripped her chin. “And such a pretty little thing, too. ‘S a shame you’re a Hamilton, ‘cause I wouldn’t mind havin’ you all to myself.”

“Get your hands off me,” she snarled, and he laughed.

“You’re adorable, actin’ as though I’m gonna listen to a word you say.” He plastered on a pout, and she was shaking when he reached up to cup her cheek, run his thumb across her bottom lip. “Y’know, it’d do you well to learn who’s in charge here. As of today, I own you, and you’re lucky I like a challenge.”

“You don’t own shit,” she spat, but her voice trembled, and he raised an eyebrow. She could feel her eyes welling up. “My family’s coming for me. And when they do, you’re gonna be sorry.”

“Now, don’t tell me you really think that?” Mocking pity saturated his voice, and when Y/N only stared back at him blankly, he went on, “Nobody’s comin’ for you. If they really cared about you, they wouldn’t have fled so easy at the docks at the first sign of trouble. They wouldn’t have abandoned you there.”

“Excuse me?” was all she managed to say in a shaky, breathy whisper. He nodded sympathetically.

“That’s right. I know all about how your family left you for dead.” Her eyes stung when the first tear rolled down her cheek, and Jefferson brushed it away. Despite his contrived pout, satisfaction shone in his eyes. “Aw, no need to cry. ‘M sure all that hurts to hear, but you’re with us now. Your family’s the least of your worries.”

“I fucking swear,” she said, and despite the determined look she wore, her tears were now falling freely, “I swear, no matter what you do to me in here, I’m not going to break. I’m not going to let you break me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no need to be scared. I have every confidence in you,” he assured her, “but I don’t intend to try and break you.”

“I’m not scared,” she hissed, and he smiled.

“I’m sure you aren’t.” He leaned in closer to her, and as he eyed her expression, he smoothed a piece of her hair back, wiped the tears from under her eyes. “And you don’t have to be. If you can be a good, obedient little girl and behave yourself, I think you’ll be surprised at just how gentle we can be.”

“And if I don’t?”

"You will.” The words were spoken with a degree of authority that sent chills down her spine; he spoke as though this were an inexorable truth. “I’m not gonna have to break you, and I won’t bother to try. You’re gonna give in to me all on your own, and it’s gonna be so much sweeter that way.”

“You’re delusional,” she seethed, and the smile that split his expression was wide, confident, but above all, unsettling.

“We’ll see about that.”

With that, he finally pulled back from her, looking beyond smug as he redirected his focus to the group, but he quickly adopted a harsh tone. “James, Aaron,” he barked, nodding toward the chair she was bound to. He caught her eye one final time, and while panic flashed in her gaze, he was beyond satisfied. “Set up a room for our guest. Looks like she’s here to stay.”

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Consequences: Chapter 1

Synopsis: 

Jordan Williams is a former Marine who starts a new life joining Medical school at age of 27. 

Rachel Ferguson is a freshly out of college graduate and Medical school 1st year student. 

Two complete strangers who fell in bed together for a night of solace from their moment of anger and hurt. By chance, they were brought together and their fates intertwined. 

Not realising yet that not only they share the same house, they also share the person they cannot lose no matter what. 

What will happen when the reality of the one night’s actions filled with lust and anger will hit them both? What will happen when he will find out that the girl he spent the night with is not only his housemate but also his best friend’s little sister? The one he swore to himself never to touch, the one for whom he will never be good enough. Will he be able to keep his hands off her? Or are they doomed from the beginning?

Words: 3600

Authors notes: Some chapters maybe NSFW or have a mature content

Jordan Williams x Rachel Ferguson (Rae, Rae-Rae)

**Warnings: Alcohol consumption, anger, bad decisions in next chapter.*

Jordan Williams never was the one who scared easily, or backed out of his decision for that matter.

Former Marine, even though his parents didn’t support him or approve of it... the one of the few survivors of his platoon… The hero, who single handedly carried his friends out from the burning hell on Earth not knowing if they were dead or alive. Who by some miracle survived, but was left with the nightmares to remind him of how lucky or cursed he was, and with the ugly scars to never let him forget of the ones who weren’t as fortunate. Limping on his right leg, but at least breathing and moving.

And today even though he still wasn’t scared, he was nervous. This was the last Friday before he was starting his new life. No more deployments. No more deaths, at least not on his watch. And as many lives as he could save after he would learn how to do that. After he would become one of the best surgeons and open the clinic for the people like him, who would survive beating all odds. For Doctors without the borders who wouldn't be scared to help people in the burning hells... who will be ready and willing to help as many dying to survive, be it soldiers or civilians, something that he failed to do then. But damn him, if he wouldn't do it now, after he would learn how to do that.

And he was determined to learn how… nothing and no-one would stop him, that is what he swore to himself that day. That is what kept him going no matter how difficult it was.

Trying to block the nerves raking through him he gripped the steering wheel firmer trying not to think of the only thing that overshadowed his new beginning. Of the fact that the place that he found for the living, was already occupied, which meant that he would have a housemate, something that he was determined never to have. The main reason why no matter how hard his best friend tried to convince him to rent a house together, he did not succumb to his persuasion. Preferring solitude instead to the company. Not wanting anyone to see him at his lowest or to hear his screams during the nights, while he would wake up sweating from yet another nightmare night after night. And as a result of that he got himself in a situation in which he was now, fated to share the house with the person he even never met.

He huffed, driving toward the lonely standing house, someone’s car was already parked there. He looked around, leaving his car in a free space. Getting out of his SUV, Jordan went toward the house.

Getting inside, he noticed still packed boxes in the hall, but he couldn't hear or see anyone else, which meant that his housemate left without unpacking.

Typicall. He thought, walking further into the house, entering a living room he would be forced to share with someone else. He looked around the neat and cozy room, two armchairs were standing opposite the fireplace, the massive bookcase was located along one of the walls.

He was about to go and check the kitchen when he heard his phone calling. Taking it out, he checked the Caller’s ID before answering the call, listening for a familiar voice coming from his mobile.

“Hey, Jody.”

“Morning to you too, Brandon,” replied Jordan, putting his keys into the bowl and moving further into the kitchen.

“I take it, you finally get to your new place? Settled in okay? How is your new housemate? Still not regretting not moving in with me?” questioned Brandon in his carefree manner, as if he wasn’t on the verge of death no more than six month back after he would save Jordan's life, and in return Jordan saved his. His cheerful voice caused a surge of amazement through Jordan while he listened to his friend.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Jordan growled frowning after finally the questions stopped in that annoyingly abrupt manner he hated. “And yes, I already got to my new place but had no chance to settle in just yet. Answering your last question, I have no idea who my new housemate is as I can see only unopened boxes there. But I do hope that the person I share this place with is someone who will not interrupt my study or throw constant parties... Although based on the fact that instead of unpacking, this housemate just left… I guess I can say goodbye to that…”

“Yes, yes… Got it,” brushed him off Brandon. “About your studies. Even though I still don't know why you need it in the first place, you always could join the forces, but what I do know, is the fact that you need to unwind before it starts… let loose... have meaningless one-night fun... sometimes I really think you forget how to have fun spending all your free time buried in books,” said Brandon, making Jordan flinch at his choice of words. He could be buried… they both could be... as were most of the guys from their platoon.

Pale, bloodied faces appeared in front of his eyes. His hand is suddenly covered in blood right in front of his eyes… screams deafeningly loud dying on their lips twisted in agony, leaving only few of them alive, and if no one would come soon they would join their comrades, their friends… faster than they could finish the prayer…  not that either of them believed, not after what they have seen or could lose.

“What do you mean?” forced out Jordan, closing his eyes and letting out the slow breath. 

“I mean that you wouldn’t recognise fun and beauty even if she bumped into you... And you are coming with me to the party. I need a wingman, and you need to unwind. Hopefully with some cute girl, whose face you will forget the next morning,” chuckled Brandon, making Jordan frown moving his phone a bit further from his ear.

“Never,“ cut Jordan, shaking his head. He was done with partying or with women. Done… "You know I don’t do parties… not anymore.”

“Yes, but you also know I will not give up until you say yes. So let’s make it easier on both of us. Should we?,” laughed Brandon.

“I need to unpack my stuff, and it may take the whole day. Also, I need to go to the library to pick up some books for my studies as tomorrow the library will be closed. So this time you will need to manage this on your own.”

“If these are the only reasons then I don’t see any reason why not.”

“I told you, I will not have…,” Jordan tried to say.

“Nope, still cannot see why you wouldn’t have time for some fun. I will be at your place in twenty minutes and will help you unpack, and then we will pick up your books before crashing this party.”

“You will not give up… aren’t you?”

“Man, you should know by now that never.”

“Fine…” sighed Jordan exasperatedly, looking at his watch. “Be here in twenty minutes, but I will leave the party before 10 pm. Understood?”

“See you in twenty minutes,” replied Brandon, ending the call.

Almost an hour later Jordan finally heard a knock on the door. Grudgingly, he opened it, letting his best friend inside the house.

“You are late,” stated he, holding one of the boxes in his hands. The pain shot through his body, but he didn’t even flinch, still staring at his friend.

“Sorry, I met my new neighbours. Movers bailed on her and her little boy, so I helped her to carry boxes inside,” shrugged Brandon nonchalantly passing by Jordan feeling not even the slightest bit sorry for his delay.

Another hour later and unloading the last boxes that Jordan brought with him, they finally started to unpack them. And in another three hours, they were finally done.

All the stuff that Jordan took with him were put neatly to their places. The bookshelf in the living room stocked with books he brought, and a picture of him and his older sister was put above the fireplace. They both looked in satisfaction around the room putting the empty boxes into the storage place. Brandon patted Jordan on the back before going toward the door.

“So now, when we finally finished unpacking,” started his friend. His eyes widening, when he noticed how Jordan with displeasure looked on his new housemate’s still packed boxes. 

Quickly his friend marched back to him grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door, letting him only grab his keys on the way out. “Don’t you even dare to think about that. You are NOT touching your roomies’ stuff. Now…. let’s go to this place, where you need to be quiet and bore yourself to death or we will be late to the party.”

That word again… thought Jordan. The word that made him flinch every time, remembering the day of his friends’ deaths. Still blaming himself that he couldn’t have saved them all, didn't see approaching danger earlier and when he did it was already too late to warn guys as all hell broke loose just a second after he sensed the danger.

“Can you stop calling it that? And the library can be fun when you know what you are looking for,” he snapped, hoping his friend missed his reaction before they both exited the house, shutting the door behind.

It was already three o’clock when they rushed toward the library, trying to get on time before it was closed. After another ten minutes of arguing that Brandon should wait for him in the car instead of constantly complaining about the place or flirting with every single girl they would meet, Jordan ran up the stairs taking two steps at the time before disappearing behind the heavy doors. When he was about to round the corner, he felt someone bumping straight into him. The heavy books the person was carrying fell to the ground hitting his foot painfully. Making him swear under his breath, looking at the person in front of him with the frown.

“Haven’t you ever been taught that you need to look where you are going?” huffed Jordan in annoyance, crouching in front of the girl with the blonde hair and helping her to collect scattered books. “Next time, watch where you are going,” said he with a scowl on his face, shoving the books into her arms before looking at her for the first time. 

The girl looked at him with the wide open forest green eyes that looked somehow familiar, no matter how silly it may sound. He quickly raked his gaze over her, taking in every detail of her petite form, before hastily returning it back to her eyes. The tongue darted out running over her lips, making his gaze drop to them darkening just for a split second, while following the movement. Her rosy lips parted as if forming a reply, but he quickly shook himself out of his state and before she could utter even a word he raised to his feet and strolled into the library, leaving a startled stranger behind.

“What a jerk,�� she mumbled, standing up with the help of her friends and adjusting her skirt.

“But he is a handsome jerk,” whistled an athletic-looking guy, watching after Jordan, throwing a hand over the blonde girl’s shoulder. “Isn’t he, Heath?”

“Ohhhh, yes. He is yummy, and that ass in low cut jeans,” moaned Heather turning to face her friend. “And did you see his lips? Rae-Rae, if I would bump into him… he wouldn’t leave… so easily,” said she with a wink.

“You two are just ridiculous... I hate you,” groaned Rachel, covering her face with books she was now holding in front of her. Her cheeks flamed. “Can you think of anything, but sex?”

Heather and Derek, the guy, who threw a hand over her shoulder, shared an incredulous look, before shaking their heads and answering in unison.

“Nope… never… And you love us, girl.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” frowned Rachel, raising her head to look at her friend.

“Yes, I do. And this is why I don’t try to get the boy myself. Also, because he is straight,” shrugged off Derek, with a wide smile.

“And how exactly do you know that?” questioned Rachel rolling her eyes.

“Did you see the way he looked at you?” asked Derek, sharing another look with Heather, the plan already building in their heads.

“Okay, you two… drop it. I know this look, and you will not try to hook me up with him. He looked at me the same way as any other rich boy in town would look at me. He is a jerk and a snob. And I’m not interested. Besides you know I have a lot on my plate right now. So stop even thinking about this. Be thankful I even agreed to go to that party with you, because if my brother finds out I lied to him... He will kill you first for dragging me there and then lock me up until graduation... or death in solitude,” she mumbled quickly before taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “And Derek, don’t you dare to forget that you promised me to do our dance. We need to practice.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll remember. I’m always up to show my new moves,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Okay, then let’s go. You know I need to change first and unpack my boxes before my housemate will arrive, which you also promised to do with me,” reminded Rachel, and they went to her house, laughing on their way there.

By the time the clock struck seven, Jordan went into a club hosting a party, scowling at the number of people there. His posture was stiff and on alert while he looked around. Ready to jump into an action at any time.

“Brandon, tell me again, why exactly did I agree to go with you?” said he in a loud voice, while trying to get through the crowd and not to lose his friend from the view, who already scanned the crowd for the distraction for the night.

“To have fun, plus I needed a wingman... Actually... scratch out the last one, I see a target at the bar, bored, single, challenging, redhead. Wingman not required,” Brandon said with a wink, when they finally got inside, instantly starting to move into the direction of the petite girl who captured his attention leaving Jordan behind.

He followed his friend with a glance before looking around the floor. His attention immediately drew to a dancing couple in the middle of the dance floor. Both moving as a whole to the sounds of Latin Music. The sensual dance attracted the drunken crowd closer to them, creating a commotion on the dance floor from enthusiastic screams and whistles. His brows furrowed instantly when he recognised the same pretty blonde girl he met earlier today. Her hair laid in soft waves. And he felt how his gaze unintentionally riveted to her, watching her every move, unable to tear his gaze away.

He watched how the guy led her into a low dip. His hand shifted to the small of her back when another traveled along her neck caressing her body as if they were in the confidentiality of the bedroom. His hand slowly reached for her knee making her stretch out her leg. A beautiful red dress flowed around her body, dancing around her petite frame like flames. At some point during the dance, she looked straight into his eyes, and he felt as if falling under her spell. Her soft forest green eyes were burning with fire, alighting something unexplored inside of him. Something that had died with his friends that day, something that they never will have and something that he will never deserve.

He could feel how his heart sped up beating as never before, and his breath elevated, from the beats of sultry music and the way her body moved in another man’s arms. Waves of golden hair refracted the lights of the club, and she moved, holding his gaze as though burning him alive from the inside. As if under the spell, Jordan moved closer to the dancers not even realising it until a buzzing of his mobile broke him out of his daze.

It seemed that eternity had passed when in reality it was only a splitting second, second that he would be not able to get out of his mind. He could feel the pounding of his heart increasing with impending anger as he looked at the caller’s ID, blinking once... twice at the phone clenched in his hand. Contemplating for a moment to just let it go to the voicemail. Not wanting or ready for another confrontation that was inevitably coming.

Deep down he knew that it wasn’t a solution and no matter how long he would avoid it his mother would find the way to get to him, so before he could think about that more he went outside of the club to take a call, not even sparing another glance to the dance floor... or to the girl who’s eyes looked so familiar.

“Mother,” he said, taking a call. “Sorry, I…,” he started, interrupted by his mother’s voice “No mother, I didn’t… I’m with Brandon… Yes, he is still my friend,” replied Jordan, trying to stay calm, while listening to his mother. His grip on the phone was getting firmer and firmer with every word she said, surprised that it didn't break in half by the time he had a chance to speak again. “Mother, no I still plan to study Medicine and not business,” said he, annoyed by yet another remark from his mother. “MOTHER,” he said, raising his voice and losing control just for a split second, before taking a deep calming breath and closing his eyes. “This is my life, and I have all the right to decide what I want or don’t want to do with it. Look what you've done to Leslie? Isn’t it enough…,” exasperatedly said he, only to be shut up by his mother once again. “Yes, mother,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, feeling how his blood started to boil again, wanting nothing more than to get drunk, and to get away as far as possible from his family as he did while he served in the Marine Corps, until he couldn't do that anymore.

His hand reached for his hip by instinct. The wound was deep enough to make him bleed to death on that ill fated day leaving him dead, but it didn’t happen... Instead it made him limp, but he could manage that. This he could hide from everyone with the prescribed medicine when the pain got to the point of unbearable and with the gritted teeth when he just wanted to limp, not caring if somebody will consider it a weakness. And it took him the hell of a lot of willpower to remember it. To remember that he cannot allow himself to be weak, couldn’t allow to show it. No one knew how bad it was... no one except Brandon, who was there for him after he saved his life. The only person who knew that if the bullet would have hit the inch higher or if the help would get there a little bit later Jordan would bleed to death. The only person to whom he told how bad it is and how much pain it causes him even now.

“No, I will not change my mind,” said he on autopilot before ending the phone call abruptly without listening to what else his mother wanted to say. After a moment, he finally shoved the phone back into the pocket of his dark blue jeans moving back into the club and walking toward the bar. 

The music has changed to something slower and sensual, and when he looked on the dance floor his eyes landed on the same tantalisingly beautiful stranger who was in the middle of the argument. 

He could see how some man grabbed her hand, but she jerked it from him and stormed toward the exit.

He huffed, downing one drink after another, not paying attention to what he was drinking, his eyes dropping back to the bar in front of him. His thoughts involuntarily returned to the girl, but he pushed them away. Frustrated and angry by the fact that he couldn’t get her out of his head for some inexplicable reason. Hurt and angry by the fact his mother managed to get under his skin once again.

By the time he was done and ready to leave the club, the anger boiling inside him reached the limit. Jordan rose abruptly, almost tripping over his feet, when the pain in his hip shot through his leg, making him curse under his breath, taking a moment to compose himself. 

He looked around, searching for Brandon, but couldn’t find him anywhere, so he typed him a quick message letting him know that he was heading back to his place. When he was just about to exit the club, he felt someone bump straight into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around the person’s shoulders, preventing them both from the fall.

Tagging: @choices-bound​ @lahelasaveiro​

[moskaisley]

ransom

pairing: fennec shand x female!reader oneshot

rating: NC-17!!! 18+ it ain’t a suggestion

word count: 2.3k

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!! graphic depictions of oral sex and a lil bit of bondage, canon typical violence, fluff n the smallest bit of angst

a/n:

the lack of fennec shand content is SAD so here i am indulging in a character we knew for like 5 minutes. id go to war for ming na wen and i can’t wait to see her again in s2 🥺🥺

also yes fennekin is a pokemon, yes i want that to be her nickname, i will NOT be taking questions.

summary:

“You had a bad habit of sneaking away from your family’s dull estate whenever unsupervised, and a corrupted senator’s daughter is always an easy target with a high price.”

in which you fall for your bodyguard and get kidnapped to get her attention.

ao3 link

“You guys haven’t done this before, have you?”

“Be quiet!”

You roll your eyes and lean back into your chair, wrists tied to the armrests. Crossing your legs, you lazily watch your captors pace around the room with a bored expression on your face. This wasn’t the first time you’d been snatched away and put up for ransom. You had a bad habit of sneaking away from your family’s dull estate whenever unsupervised, and a corrupted senator’s daughter is always an easy target with a high price. In the beginning, there was only a mild concern for your life, but your lust for life outside of your grand home kept you slipping away. When your father realized how expensive it was to keep paying for your ransom, he hired all kinds of professionally trained security guards to accompany you at all times. It didn’t work. Each time, they’d grow sick of your antics and quit. Every guard that left your father’s employment fueled your ego and there was a strange power trip in seeing hardened men and women bested by an impulsive, slippery little girl. It wasn’t until your father completely lost it and hired the best money could buy, delving deep into his connections to the criminal underbelly.

She was good, too–impervious to your little games and annoying prodding. It was the first time you’d been so safe in months. If you were being completely honest, you only got yourself kidnapped nowadays to spice up the routine.

Speaking of kidnapping, these guys were total amateurs; they didn’t even have proper binders so they bound your wrists with rope instead. They didn’t bother bagging you when they tossed you into their speeder, giving you plenty of time to memorize their faces(not that you even needed to, they’d be dead by the time you were saved.) Their holovid to be sent to your family was the same tired spiel of  “give us the money or the girl gets it.” Not compelling in the slightest. You were slightly impressed by their asking price, however; it was higher than most. None of it mattered, though. You won’t be here much longer.

After all, your security detail was impeccable.

“Do you plan on taking me to a second location at all?” you ask.

The pantoran shoots you a quizzical look with his golden eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes again, letting out an exasperated, dramatic sigh.

“Normally, you take the hostage to a second location to keep people off your scent.”

The group looks at you, wildly confused as to why their prisoner is so nonchalant to give them a critique on their kidnapping skills. They then look at each other as if to say, “should we be doing that?”

A devaronian, probably the leader of this ragtag group, quickly stands up to stand before you.

“I thought I told you to be quiet, little girl.”

“I will hand it to you, though. It’s good that you chose a place with no windows,” You continue, completely ignoring his orders, “My security guard is an incredible shot.”

Slap!

Your cheek stings in pain from his strike.

Finally, something interesting.

“No one’s coming for you. You’re stuck with us until your bastard father coughs up our money,” he growls.

You only laugh, enraging him further, “It’s true that my father’s a bastard, but you’re not getting out of here with any money. And it seems–”

The sounds of struggling and shots echo from behind the door, interrupting you. You smirk.

“You’re not getting out of here with your life either.”

As if she was waiting for your cue, your savior bursts through the door, blasters at attention at the group encircling the room. You perk up in your seat.

“Fennekin! You made it!” you cheerily greet, cutting through the tense standoff before you.

She chides you for the nickname.

“Not while I’m working, sweetheart.”

She fires with deadly precision and blaster shots go off chaotically around the room. In a matter of minutes, all five of your captors are splayed knocked out on the ground, and your bodyguard is kneeling in front of you to meet your eyes. She pulls off her helmet, braid falling to her shoulders. Her gloved hand gently nursing your irritated cheek.

“You didn’t kill them?” You ask her, confused.

“Your father would rather have them arrested. Better poll ratings,” she answers, “He’ll be angry with you again, you know.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Must you always cause so much trouble?”

You pout your lips, “If I don’t, then you won’t pay attention to me.”

Your savior laughs lightly and stands to her full height. She bends over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You’re giddy at the feeling of her lips, and your body suddenly goes warm in adoration.

At first, Fennec Shand was just another bodyguard to irritate until she got sick of your tricks and quit. But her patience knew no bounds. You’d be bold enough to say that it amused her, as if watching a child play soldier. And it infuriated you. She never raised her voice with you, even if she’d rescued you from danger or caught you sneaking out countless times. You saw it all as a challenge, a little game to get her to snap, to rile her up, anything . Soon enough, you were desperate for her attention in any form, pressing her with question upon question and learning about the life of a galaxy-class assassin. Each time, she’d answer with the same cool and collected tone she’d reserved only for you.

“Fennekin.”

You couldn’t tell if she hated the nickname. If she did, she never said so.

“Hm?”

“How many planets have you been to?” You ask her one night. During one of your father’s campaign galas, you’d taken the chance to slip onto the balcony, feeling the cool breeze graze your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replies politely, “I’ve lost track.”

Naturally, your incessant prodding led Fennec to ask questions of her own, a far cry from your previous bodyguards who only regarded you as a spoiled rich girl with daddy issues. (You were, but that wasn’t the point.) It was comforting to have someone to confide in, to express your frustration at the fact that Fennec had been to countless planets while you’d lived your entire life on a single one. There was so much more that you could be doing with your life than playing the proper, dutiful daughter to a government official. You were grateful that she’d listened to you at all.

It was only a matter of time before you started falling in love with the smoothness of her voice and the relaxed half-smile that graced her lips whenever she was around. And so, you began to flirt with her, cooing praises and taking every opportunity to brush against her and feel her touch. But Fennec still maintained her composure, politely declining your advances in the interest of professionalism. Until one day, you caught her fervent gaze as she watched you float around the halls of your estate in one of your expensive silk dresses and a mischievous glint in your eye. It set your pride on fire to know that she wanted you too.

“Fennec,” you breathed. In your boldness, you’d pressed yourself against her and cupped the sides of her face. Her hands caressed your wrists, rubbing her thumbs against her palms.

You’re obsessed with the way she says your name.

“We shouldn’t do this. Your father will have my head.”

“Who said we have to tell him?”

You met her lips gently, testing the waters and half-expecting her to pull away. But to your absolute delight, Fennec’s hands quickly met your waist, pulling you closer and deeper. Your relationship now consisted of secret kisses in empty hallways, late night escapades in your bedroom, knowing glances from across the room during audiences with your father.

Some things never changed, though.

“We should get going,” she says, going into unbind your wrists.

A delicious idea pops into your head seeing Fennec before you. You gently kick your foot into her knee, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait.”

Fennec stills and a languid smile spreads along your pretty lips as you uncross your legs, crudely spreading them apart so she stands in between you. Her eyes darken, and she regards you with a piercing stare.

“No. Not here.”

You look up at her with pleading eyes.

“You’ve been so busy. We’re never alone anymore.”

She says your name in warning.

“Fennec, please. I’ve missed you.”

She tilts her head at you and sighs, dropping to her knees. She all but rips off her gloves, throwing them to the floor with an unceremonious flop. Your heart quickens in pace as her hands travel up your legs. She pushes the hem of your dress past your knees and high up your thighs, revealing your soaking underwear. You gasp as a finger traces up your slip, hooking at your waistband.

“ So needy … Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes. Please,” you beg. You’re burning up, desperate to feel her. She pulls at your panties, sliding them down your legs and slipping them into her pocket. Your cunt is dripping in arousal, and you shudder at the sudden exposure to the cold. She grasps at your hips, and presses a kiss to your inner thighs. Your heart races at the fact that you’re bound to your seat and completely at her mercy, unable to pull her closer.

“Did you miss me, princess?”

Warmth blooms at your core at the feeling of her hot breath between your legs. You’re dizzy, all rational thought escaping you. She bites down at the soft skin.

“Answer me.”

“Yes! Fennec, I missed you so much,” you whimpered, “Need your mouth on me.”

She hums in pleasure, and presses soft pecks against your thighs until her lips finally meet your pussy. Her tongue travels up your folds and you nearly scream in bliss. Fennec’s hands grip and grab at your soft skin, lifting to take hold of your breasts. Her thumbs run themselves over your nipples, already pebbling through the thin silk of your dress.

You whine as she pulls away, straightening up on her knees and tracing the contours of your neck and jaw with deft fingers. Her thumb stops over the center of your lips.

“Suck.”

You obey and take it into your wet mouth, savouring the taste of leather and blaster powder. When she removes her finger, Fennec immediately presses it against your clit. You throw your head back in delight, pushing your ass out in your seat to get a better angle. Fennec’s lips find their way back to your pussy, expertly kissing and sucking at your folds.

Your body tenses. The knot in your stomach coils and winds so tight you feel like you’re going to burst. Fennec only continues rubbing circles into your clit.

“You gonna cum for me, my girl?”

“M-Maker, Fennec, I’m so close” you sob.

You feel her smile against your pussy, “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my mouth.” She sucks at your folds again and you completely lose it. The feeling of relief washes over you in waves, drowning you in ecstasy and warmth. You’re electric under her; she’s the only one to ever make you feel this way. The only one who could make you beg. You’d bleed for her. It was then, in that dingy musty basement with no windows, you realized–

“Shit, I think I’m in love with you.”

It comes out as barely a whisper, spoken into the void in between your laboured breathing. But she hears you because she always hears you, hangs onto your every word uttered through your lips. Her stare freezes on you for a moment in shock, but then she smiles fully, beaming at you from her place on the floor. Taking your face into her hands, she kisses you harder than she ever has before.

“I love you, too.”

--

“I’ve had it up to here with your attitude, young lady!”

Your father drones on angrily, but you’re not even listening. A stupid, lovesick smile has been planted on your face ever since the basement. Your gaze darts over to your bodyguard leaning against the wall directly behind him. She meets your eyes and chuckles under her breath, shaking her head.

Your father barks at you, “Do you realize our reputa– Are you even listening? Pay atten–”

“Daddy, can we talk about this tomorrow?” you ask, lazily pressing the back of your hand to feign fatigue, “I’m so tired. Being kidnapped takes a lot out of you, y’know?”

He huffs through his nose, tapping his foot against the pristine marble floor.

“Fine,” he relents, pointing up, “Fennec, see to it that actually makes it to her room. We need to make sure she’s not slipping away before your departure.”

“Right away, sir.”

Departure? She pushes off the wall and stands at attention. As your father turns his back, you shoot her a look of confusion. Her eyes nod upwards, and you both ascend the grand staircase in silence. In your room, you stand in front of the open doors to your balcony, curtains swaying softly under the blue moonlight.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A month, at most,” she replies, “I’m off to Tatooine on some business.”

You turn to face her, snaking your arms around her neck and hands softly tracing over her braid.

“Do you need to leave right away?”

Her lips curl into a loving smile.

“No, I don’t.”

“Stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.”

The two of you laid together in your large, fluffy bed, curled up into the curves of each other’s bodies and basking in their warmth. Fennec pressed kisses into your temple while you were encircled around her waist.

“Fennekin?”

“Hm?”

“Come back to me, okay?”

Come back to me and steal me away.

--

thanks for reading! see u space cowboys <3

taglist

@tiffdawg​ , @bella-ciaao​ , @thesefleshfailures​

[shhh-no-ones-home]

artistry (1/2) bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

part 1 part 2

therapy, and hatred for the same things; the beginning of a beautiful love story 😌

also sorry this is not any of the stories on the list i published a couple weeks ago. ive been submerged in the falcon and the winter soldier and really wanted to write more for Bucky so here's the beginning of that. i will be working on the other stories they just may take more time. but for now i hope you all enjoy the bucky content!

Song: never know by set it off

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

I stood, knees to the couch, arms folded over my chest, Studying the wall as best I could. God I fucking hated it. It was so polite and warm and inviting. Barf.

"Disturbing."

I grumbled, hearing soft footsteps against the carpet.

"Oh sorry, they told me to wait in here I didn't realize there was someone-"

I glanced over at him for a moment. He seemed like he wanted to leave but I'm sure he was curious what I was doing. I was staring at the wall behind the couch after all.

"It's kind of infuriating isn't it?"

I asked, looking over the pale greens and blues.

"Um, what is?"

He now seemed very confused. I nodded towards the mural.

"Sometimes when I look at this wall too long I can just imagine myself punching a hole in it."

I half laughed.

"I couldn't tell you how many times I've wanted to offer to paint over it."

I uncrossed my arms, side stepping the couch and touching the wall gently.

"I never really thought about it but it is kind of ugly isn't it?"

He sent me a smile and I couldn't help laughing more.

"Y/n."

I said offering my hand to shake.

"James."

"Firm grip ya got there James."

He rubbed his gloved hands together, looking to the floor as his smile faded.

"Thought I knew my own strength."

I kept the smile on, touching his shoulder gently.

"Hey, a firm grip isn't necessarily a bad thing. Besides, no harm no foul. I'm sure you put it to good use."

I winked at him and he seemed like he didn't know what to do again. Until he let out a nervous laugh.

"Right."

I nodded once, looking back over the wall and dropping my hand from him.

"I should probably get going, doc should be in soon and I wouldn't want to take away from your session."

I walked past him.

"It was nice to meet you James."

As I reached the door he cleared his throat.

"Hey y/n-"

He said quickly and I turned back around to face him. He was fiddling with his fingertips, pinching the leather of the black gloves.

"I uh, don't get out much but I was wondering if you'd like to get a drink. Maybe, talk about how you'd repaint this wall?"

He pointed to it haphazardly, a smile making its way back to his face. In that moment I couldn't help the one creeping it's way across my own lips. I nodded quickly.

"I'd like that a lot James, uh here, you can call or text me at this number and we can work something out."

As I spoke I reached into my bag and pulled out a business card that I probably hadn't used in too long. The edges were fraying and my occupation had changed but I handed it to him anyway. He held it between both hands and looked over it.

"Are you free tonight?"

He asked, hope behind his eyes. I pretended to think for a moment.

"Ya know what I think I am."

I said and his smile got wider.

"Meet me at the bar at the corner of tenth and Jefferson?"

I nodded slowly at his inquisition, backing up into the doorway and squeaking when my back hit the wood.

"Eight o'clock, don't be late."

I said, turning and almost running into Dr Raynor.

"Oh, sorry, uh have a good session."

I mumbled quickly, ducking past her.

"I'll see you tonight James."

°°°°°°°°°

As I sat at the bar alone I began to doubt he was even coming. It was almost nine already and I was starting to think I was stupid for even waiting this long. Maybe I should go. Or maybe I should try to find someone else to talk to. The band was pretty good after all. I sighed and raised my finger to get the bartenders attention. when she turned around i opened my mouth-

"I'll have what she's having."

I heard, looking over to James with wide eyes as he sat beside me. He was wearing a navy blue leather jacket of some kind that exposed his left, metal, arm.

"You actually came."

I said surprised. He seemed almost ashamed.

"Sorry I'm late. My friend needed me and we got a little caught up. I was going to call but-"

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and the top was barely hanging onto the base by a wire. the flip phone kind of took me aback though. but it didnt matter, he showed up.

"It's okay, im just glad you actually came."

He let out a nervous laugh and took a sip of the drink the bartender had sat down.

"I was hoping you'd still wanna talk, even though I'm an hour late."

I nodded, looking over his face as he fully turned to me and my face fell.

"An hour late and bleeding."

I reached towards him and touched his temple gently. He winced at first.

"You wanna get out of here? I can get that fixed up; I only live about a block away."

I suggested and he nodded slowly.

"Uh yeah, I'd like that."

I paid the bartender and stood up, James following me outside. I inhaled deeply at the scent of rain as the sky darkened with clouds.

"So, something life-threatening happen on your way here?"

I asked, laughing a little as he looked to me.

"I'm kidding. Unless it did, in which case I'm glad you're okay."

He scratched the back of his neck, pacing slowly beside me.

"Good talk."

I said and he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry I just, I don't do this often and I feel like I've already lost my chance with you."

I looked to him and drew my brows.

"would i have invited you to my house if you had?"

he shrugged, side nodding before tucking his hands into his pockets. i frowned when he didnt respond.

"look, james, i think I'll be the judge of whether or not youve lost your chance and right now I say you haven't. but you said you wanted to talk and there's not a whole lot of that going on."

He let out a nervous laugh.

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

I asked, slipping my right hand into his left elbow and he stopped. He looked down at our arms connected for a second and then I felt bad.

"Sorry, I just uh, figured it'd lighten the mood a bit. Sorry."

I pulled away and kept walking.

"Wait. No, it's just-"

I looked back at him and watched as he opened and closed his hand a few times.

"I don't really associate good things with it so it took me off guard a little bit. You can, uh, you can hold my hand if you want. That's fine."

He stepped closer to me and took my hand in his. I smiled at him and nodded.

"Thanks, I guess I just wasn't really thinking."

We kept walking.

"It doesn't bother you?"

He asked and I shrugged.

"Why would it bother me?"

There was a long silence as we rounded the street corner.

"I don't know."

He said softly.

"Uh, we're here."

I said, letting go of his hand and walking up the stairs to unlock my front door, looking to him as he looked over it. when i offered for him to come inside he hesitated for a moment but followed me in anyway.

"here you can sit here, let me get a look at where this blood is coming from."

he watched as i pulled the stool out form under my breakfast bar and i felt more nervous than before. it had suddenly occurred to me that we would be getting much closer and that led to some pretty self-conscious thoughts. but who was i kidding? he bared himself to me already, why should i be scared?

i inhaled deeply as he sat, moving to turn another light on so i could see better. i moved back over to stand between his legs, touching his jaw lightly and tilting his head down. he kept his eyes on me as i touched the wound gently, hearing his breathing hitch in the back of his throat before i let go to get a cold wash rag.

"so, you wanna tell me what happened?"

i asked, trying to lighten the mood as i came back and began wiping the dried blood away from the cut at his hairline. my finger tips were at his chin and he seemed more relaxed now.

"i was helping a friend."

he repeated like before. i nodded once.

"you live a dangerous life don't you James?"

he looked up at me with innocent eyes.

"bucky."

he said and i raised a brow.

"bucky?"

"thats what my friends call me."

i nodded once.

"are you calling me a friend?"

i asked and he finally cracked a smile.

"if you want to be."

he said and i let out a short laugh.

"and if i dont?"

his smile began to fade and he cleared his throat. i looked to the ceiling for a moment before leaning down and kissing his cheek gently.

"thats not what i meant bucky."

when he looked back up at me he seemed so lost, like this was a new type of kindness. part of my heart broke thinking about what could have happened to lead him here.

"what do you say we call this a trial run? we can take a weekend sometime and maybe go to the art museum down the street, get pizza for lunch, and just have a good time."

he seemed like he was still trying to study me as i put the wash rag on the counter and wiped my wet hands on my jeans.

"no blood, no confusion, just two people having a good time."

i held my hand out for him to shake. he nodded slowly, the smile barely there as he reached for it.

"i think id like that y/n. i think id like that a lot."

[vagrantblvrd]

Watching the Rimmy Tim GTA Garage Tour video and omg.

Spoilers under the cut because reasons, but talk of AUs and ridiculousness also because reasons.

(In hindsight, the spoilers are like. A smidgen of this post/AU, but yes.)

I’m just.

That One AU with Jeremy who comes from a wealthy family but there’s, idk, Issues or some such associated with it that has him join the military as soon as he can?

His mom passed away when he was a kid - barely remembers her, really - and his dad threw himself into his work and Jeremy’s childhood wasn’t the greatest, you know?

Decides to go by his mother’s maiden name or something because his father’s name is so well known and he’s trying to get by on his own merits and such?

(Prove to himself he can after the last Big Argument with his dad over taking over the family business and having all his doubts and insecurities thrown into his face because born with a silver spoon in his mouth and he’s always wanted to be “norrmal” whatever that is, so. Yeah.)

Goes into the military and takes to it like nothing else. Gets thrown into a special forces group where he meets Ryan and the whole Battle Buddies thing happens, right?

Couple of idiots who don’t get along at first because Ryan’s been in spec ops for a while and he’s maybe a little jaded about rookies like Jeremy (even though Jeremy’s not shiny new at the time, but yeah).

Some rough spots until there’s a mission or something happening on their downtime/at HQ wherein they learn to look at one another in a different light?

Ryan thinking Jeremy’s a by the book kind of guy because hey, pretty new to things and he’s great at the “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir” and “Understood, sir,” shit and doesn’t yet realize what a little bastard he can be?

But yeah.

That mission where things go to shit really early on and Jeremy gets tired of playing the good little soldier - their usual handler replaced for the mission by some asshole from an letter agency who clearly doesn’t give a fuck about them, and just.

“Oh, shit,” Jeremy says, plucking his earpiece out and dropping it in the mud. “Fuck.”

Ryan watches as Jeremy brings his foot down on the earpiece, grinds it into the mud where he won’t have to listen to the weasel’s voice anymore and maybe get some shit done with minimal casualties.

Jeremy slides a look at Ryan who’s got his own earpiece in hand about to toss it into the jungle somewhere. (Always a jungle setting because anywhere ese is just not Cool Enough I guess?)

Ryan shrugs, feels his mouth twitch into a smirk because hey, maybe this Dooley asshole isn’t all bad after all?

And then the two of them go on to wreak havoc like whoah and fuck up the baddies to rescue the innocent civilians or whatever that got caught up in all this. (Ones the letter agency asshole told them were acceptable losses and to set the charges that would bring the building they’re being held in down and just. Yeah.)

Everything after that is just overall terrible for Jeremy and Ryan’s regular handler and superiors as they get along like a house on fire and things explode everywhere all the time.

After a while Jeremy feels guilty about not telling Ryan who he really is although he’s 99.9% sure Ryan’s figured it out by then? (Ryan’s kind of an idiot, but he’s not dumb, so.)

Talks himself up into Confessing to Ryan (the fact he’s in love with the asshole is a major motivation for it) but then they get that shitty mission that leaves Jeremy thinking Ryan’s dead.

Wakes up in a little clinic in a little country somewhere. No ID because the kind of mission the government would have to disavow and all that and anyway, anyway, better this way?

Problem is, okay, problem is the government thinks he’s dead too?

Helpful as he unravels the conspiracy that nearly got him killed and sure as fuck killed Ryan and also, okay, because I’m terrible like that, has Jeremy drawing on all the contacts and resources he’s made over the years in spec ops.

More than a few are ones he met through Ryan, and all of them are super fucking delighted to lend a hand when Jeremy tells them what he’s doing, you know?

Getting revenge on the assholes who killed Ryan and tried to kill Jeremy and anyway, okay. They’ve got a lot of friends out there.

Once Jeremy uncovers the conspiracy/baddies he has the choice of going back into hiding or taking his life back?

And at first he thinks it won’t be that hard of a decision because his old life was never something he wanted?

But his supposed death changed his father or made him realize how he’d been pushing Jeremy away and there’s this.

Jeremy’s old superiors give him this phone while giving him time to make his decision. (Figure he’s earned it, and they’ll make sure whatever he chooses he won’t get trouble from them and all that?)

And there’s voicemail messages he doesn’t intend to listen to, doesn’t want to know what they are because he’s definitely made up his mind about going into hiding/creating a new identity for himself?

But there’s a night in his motel room, shitty little thing close to a highway and the kind fo place he’s been staying in for the last however long it took him to get the assholes behind the conspiracy that fucked his life up beyond repair?

This night where everything that happened, everything he lost, hits him hard and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with this stupid phone in his hand, you know?

Unremarkable flipphone deal, burner phone written all over it and it shouldn’t even be a problem to toss it in the trash and disappear, start a new life, but.

Jeremy listens to the messages on it.

A few from former friends and coworkers wishing him well and the like? But also a few from his dad.

He almost, almost deletes those messages right off the bat, but something makes him sit through them and he’s glad he did, you know, because, okay, because.

It’s clear some of the messages were left before The Mission, his dad all stiff and awkward checking in on his son? Doesn’t get why Jeremy left to join the military and there’s disapproval and condescencion galore in them, but after the first few messages the tone changes significantly.

Start just after The Mission, his dad angry at first like he thinks Jeremy’s put his superiors up to pranking him with a dead son (Jesus fuck) and the other stages of grief?

A few where he’s obviously accepted Jeremy’s death and is telling him the things he wished he had the chance to before he died. Has a whole change of heart and apologizes - he was tough on Jeremy because he wanted to prepare him for th world and all that bullshit? Did everything he did out of misguided love and apologizes and Jeremy, okay.

Never got to know his mom, but he’s got this chance to get to know his dad so he decides to reclaim his old life.

No interest in staying in the military after everything that happened, and they’re grateful enough for all he did he gets a dishonorable discharge and all that.

Goes back home and gets to know his dad, thinks about taking over the family business even though he’s not 100% sold on the idea just yet.

Which is good, because his dad isn’t pushing him to do it even if he wants Jeremy to?

Is trying real hard to let Jeremy make his own decisions and suchlike. (Has someone in line to take over some day, bright kid from the midwest and a degree in aerospace engineering. Which. Kind of not the right degree for this, but his dad doesn’t seem overly bothered and anyway, anyway, Jeremy likes Trevor pretty much from the start, so it’s all good.)

ANYWAY.

Jeremy doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life at the moment, pretty much content to let it come to him in time.

He’s got his own money - trust funds and/or the whatnot his mom set up and investments here and there, not to mention his time in the militray - so he’s covered on the financial front.

Gets a decent place of his own and starts working on figuring out who he is outside of the military and all that? (Tries not to think about shit like that he talked to Ryan about for hours, the things Ryan promised to show him/introduce him to One Day not knowing it would never come and all that, because Delicious Angst.)

Is finally starting to make good headway on figuring his shit out when his dad - who, by the way, Jeremy’s building a good relationship with - gets into trouble.

Finds out one of his trusted people in the company’s been making shady deals and the whatnot on the side for a while now. Profiting off other people’s suffering and keeping it secret until there’s a lip up. Discrephancy or soemthing Jeremy’s dad notices, looks into.

And then things go to hell again, because it gets Jeremy’s dad killed, you know?

Supposed accident - plane crash or something while he’s touring a facility and the press talking about it for weeks/months/however long, because.

Jeremy’s dad and the multi-billion dollar company their fmaily built up from nothing over several generations and just.

Yeah.

At first even Jeremy thinks it was an accident, but then he gets these phone calls and messages and realizes it totally wasn’t.

That someone killed him because he knew to too much and he’s like, fucking Christ, not this again?

But yeah, this again.

Can’t quite disappear to investigate on his own with how high-profile everything is and all that?

SO.

(This is where things take a turn for the are you fucking kidding me??? with my Plot Reasons, so bear with me???)

Jeremy goes vigilante.

Totally Batmans the shit out of things.

Digs into the money he had under his previous fake identity that he never told anyone about because who knew if he’d need it again, you know? (Don’t bother asking where he got that money because you don’t want to know? Also. A fair amount of his contacts/resources have warrants out for their arrest, so yes.)

Uses it to fund everything, and maybe puts some of his real identity money into things when his fake identity money isn’t enough, which.

Good idea?

But has the unintended result of drawing the attention of Trevor, who’s got his hands full handling the business side of things since Jeremy’s father died.

Has feelers everywhere (and a very, very good hacker in an old buddy of his) and confronts Jeremy about it.

Not sure what’s going on - thinks maybe Jeremy had something to do with his father’s death because rocky relationship ~conveniently mended not too long before his father’s death?

So, yeah.

Thinks Jeremy’s a murdered or at least capable of arranging a murder, and Jeremy’s like !!! and ??? and “What the actual fuck are you talking about, Trevor?”

And that’s how Trevor basically becomes Jeremy’s Lucius Fox???

The two of them working together to figure out what the everloving fuck happened.

Realize it’s something big, fucking huge. (Possibly connected to The Mission and the baddies responsible for it, although they’re not sure how at the moment.)

Trevor taking a specific interest in the R&D department to create gadgets/vehicles for Jeremy’s use in this private little war of his.

Matt taking on the side-gig of being Jeremy’s Oracle-ish person.

And Jeremy taking up the job his father wanted him to because it makes him a nice, shiny target, doesn’t it?

Feigns stupidity because actually great tactic? And also allows the conpirators to underestimate him to the point they expose themselves and just.

Yes.

ANYWAY.

In all this - Jeremy Bruce Wayne-ing/Batman-ing his way through things he meets this reporter type.

British bastard who’s recently moved to the states and not at all intimidated by the Dooley name and just.

All these dinner parties and Events, comments and the like over a flute of champagne on a balcony while the elites mingle inside and all that?

Feeling one another out because Gavin is totally looking into the same conspiracy that got Jeremy’s father killed (and possibly Ryan?) for his own reasons and just.

You know the careful back and forth that goes along with all that, right? The sly looks and double-speak and Intrigue that slowly gives way to mutual respect and even this friendly verbal sparring.

And then, okay, and then.

Gavin’s asked to do a piece on Jeremy for the paper/whatver news outlet he works for. More of a puff piece than anything - his last article whatever got him in big trouble because it was too critical of powerful figures in the city. (The piece on Jeremy is either a bid to keep Gavin out of trouble until things calm down or punisment, but yes.)

Jeremy’s gotten a reputation for having A Thing for fast cars (and bikes and planes and so on) and he takes Gavin on a tour of some of them.

The one thing Jeremy really spent his money on before things went to hell and his father died, and since he’s Bruce Wayne-ing the fuck out of thing he’s gone a little overboard.

Has this entire fleet of vehicles he’s given ridiculous names to  - and okay. Most of them didn’t have names until he and Gavin were walking through the garage and Jeremy was capitvated by Gavin’s laugh and honest joy at the ridculous names he had given some of them that he just made the rest up on the fly.

At which point Jeremy realizes he’s kind fo fucked because oh shit, he’s got FEELINGS for Gavin???

Has a little freakout over that because the whole Ryan thing and when did he stop thinking about him? (Guilt like whoah and thinking he’s betraying his memory even though rationally he knows Ryan would want him to move on, and anyway, anyway, Ryan never liked him liked him, so. Yes.)

Still.

He keeps freaking out until Trevor and Matt notice and have A Talk with Jeremy, get him to get his head out of his ass and realize that while his life is a shitshow - honestly, only so much Tragic Backstory one guy can have, you know? - he still deserves to be happy.

And then, okay.

Just as Jeremy realizes they have a point and he’s going to Do Something about his FEELINGS he runs into this little shit while out Batman-ing.

Thief, because of course, and breaking into the Dooley business tower for Secrets and there’s.

Fighting with the acrobatics and flexibility and Major Flirting. Rooftop chases and all that with Jeremy being like (oh no, he’s hot) because reasons, okay?

And then!

Just as he’s about to catch the thief the bastard hits him with a superhero/supervillain tazer-ish gadget. Enough to knock the wind out of him, have him drop like a ragdoll while the thief crouches beside him, something like concern (oddly familiar?) on the bit of their face he can see as they make sure he’s okay.

Little smirk when he catches Jeremy’s scowl aimed at them and a, “Next time, hmm?” before they make their getaway while Jeremy watches helplessly.

And, okay.

I think we all know Gavin’s the thief, right?

Only not so much thieving at the moment as he’s been hired by another party to do some digging into the Dooley business files because Plot Reasons.

Something Jeremy, Trevor, and Matt figure out after several weeks/months/however long of running into the bastard (Jeremy not realizing it’s Gavin all that time because of course) and such.

Jeremy fail!flirting with reporter!Gavin and the two of them kind of sort of dating? (Certainly end up in the tabloids with all this speculation surrounding them and such.)

And then, okay, and then.

Some situation where Jeremy catches Gavin in the act of Thieving at a Dooley business (it really needs a name, huh?) and thinking he’s finally caught the little bastard?

But then the real baddies, or rather some goons hired by the real baddies show up and the two of them reluctantly teaming up, because of course.

(All this time the two of them have been butting heads they’ve formed mutual respect for one another and such. Know they’re not the actual baddies of this plotline but can’t fucking get their shit together to team up on exposing the main conspiracy together because Plot Reasons???)

Anyway.

They team up and manage to beat the baddies, but Jeremy’s got a bullet in him and the cops are coming and they think Jeremy’s just as bad as the acutal baddies and it’s a mess, okay? Huge fucking mess.

Gavin dithers for a bit before he decides the hell with it and drags a Jeremy to his base of operations or whatever. Jeremy tries to protest because hey, what if this is a ploy to unmask him/kill him and Gavin ignoring him because good God, idiot, no.

They end up in a pretty involved lair - totally a lair - that’s clearly been in operation for a while now. (Years, maybe.)

Gavin sitting Jeremy down and telling him to stay put for God’s sake as he bustles off to get a medical kit to patch Jeremy up.

Fusses over him, Jeremy watching quietly because look, okay, look.

He’s known for a while who this thief must be, but he’s just.

Jeremy’s a fucking spectacular liar, you know. Best there ever was, and he’s gotten fucking great at lying to himself over the years.

So yeah.

He’s known Gavin’s the thief for a while now, just didn’t think about it. (Because then he’d have to face the truth and his life has been enough of a fucking roller-coaster without that revelation.)

And Gavin, alright.

Knows just as well the idiot he’s patching up is the same damn bastard he’s maybe a little in love with. idiot with his name on the side of a building and target painted on his chest and just.

They know.

But!

Before either of them can admit any of that, the asshole who hired Gavin to do the Thieving for him shows up.

Fucker Jeremy’s had the misfortune of running into a few times over the last however long he started Batman-ing around.

Stupid skull mask and all those goddamned knives and of course, of fucking course Gavin would not only be the thief he’s been trying to catch for forever, he’s also working for the goddamned Vagabond.

And, like.

Ryan (totally not dead, but don’t tell Jeremy that just yet) also ended up in a little clinic after The Mission.

Thought Jeremy was dead and decided to get revenge for him (them), but while Jeremy did the whole vigilante/Batman deal? Ryan went a little darker, got his hands dirtier.

Ended up picking up a mask and reputation the likes of which has hardened criminals looking over their shoulders.

Took an unplanned detour or two looking for the truth behind everything, and just as he thought he had everything figured out Jeremy resurfaced and brought it all tumbling down.

And then like.

Disbelief and anger and all that at finding out Jeremy was alive? (And guilt, for not looking for him hard enough, thinking he’d die that easily, who knows.)

Wanders about aimlessly after that for a while as Jeremy’s putting his life back together. Ryan did some shit he doesn’t think even Jeremy would forgive him for, and anyway, anyway, it’s better like this, you know? Not like Jeremy ever like-liked him, and other bullshit reasons.

Just when he’s about to set himself up for a life as a miserable bastard he runs into this little thief.

Has zero (0) plans to get to know the little bastard, but Gavin’s curious and persistent and before Ryan knows it Gavin’s carved a spot for himself in Ryan’s life.

Also, to his horror, Ryan’s gone and got FEELINGS for the idiot.

Mutual Pining, because of course?

idiots being idiots, and Gavin dragging Ryan out of that pit he’s tossed himself into bit by bit. And just when it seems like maybe Ryan can find some peace of mind?

The whole Thing of Jeremy’s father’s death and Ryan still having FEELINGS for Jeremy that make him want to find out what the fuck’s going on with that. (Because FEELINGS, but also they get wind of some terrible rumors surrounding the whole business, and also people wanting Jeremy out of the way, and just. Yeah.)

Still.

Ryan’s too dumb to know Gavin would help him out in a hearbeat if he asked like a normal human being because friends? So he goes and fucking hires Gavin, and then the thing with Jeremy’s Batman-ing and various things that end with the whole Jeremy being shot and Dramatic Reveal and yes.

Suspicion and paranoia (~broken trust that’s just them being dumb, but with good reason) and Delicious Angst and Drama as the three of them try to work together to find out what the fuck is going on.

Also?

Mutual pining like whoah because of course Jeremy and Ryan are still in love with one another after all this time? But now they’re also in love with Gavin and Gavin’s in love with them and they’re all super fucking dumb about it.

Trevor and Matt figure out the whole complicated ~love triangle (it really isn’t that, though, like wow, no) almost immediately and are just like jfc, why all the time the three of them are painfully oblivious about things?

Lots of fights with the baddies and minor injuries that allow Jeremy, Ryan, and Gavin to fuss over one another and have quite confession times about shit.

(Jeremy telling Ryan he wanted to tell him who he was before The Mission. Ryan wanting to ~reveal he was still alive to Jeremy but being afraid what might happen if he did because emotional constipation? Jeremy and Gavin and the whole situation they’ve been dealing with since they met, because omg, idiots. And then, like. Ryan and Gavin and this whole Thing neither of them have face up to between them that’s been brewing for forever. AND. The three of them being really fucking stupid about things.)

And then!

Final Confrontation in which they finally uproot the conspiracy/baddies responsible for The Mission and Jeremy’s father’s dead and this ??? moment where they’re not sure what’s going to happen now that everything’s dealt with?

Like.

Gavin’s still a thief and Ryan’s done some things (he thinks) Jeremy would never forgive him for and fuck knows what’s going on with Jeremy and his Batman-ing now.

Ryan and Gavin are about to take off - better that away and obviously Jeremy doesn’t have FEELINGS for them - when Trevor and Matt have ahd enough and engineer a situation where the three of them have no choice but to figure their shit out.

Lock them in a room/wherever together and refuse to let them out until they fucking talk to one another or something simlar and then it’s just.

Jesus Christ it’s awkward. And painful. And honestly kind of horrible, but they do the Talking and realize holy shit, they do have FEELINGS for one another and realize they could maybe actually do something good about it if they fucking tried, so.

Yes.

The three of them getting their shit together and  Jeremy continuing to Batman.

Ryan and Gavin sticking around, although now they’re working (mostly, although there are times they Thief when it comes to pretty shinies or just a unique challenge rather than for crime’s sake. (But that’s actually okay, because it means cat and mouse games with Jeremy in which outrageous cheating methods such as kissing Jeremy stupid are employed or vice versa and just. Yes.)

Jeremy takes a twisted sort of delight in confusing the fuck out the tabloids because he’s seen out and about with Gavin or Ryan. It’s assumed he’s shamelessly cheating on one with the other? But then the three of them are caught on what’s clearly a romantic night out or whatever and is the Dooley heir in a poly relationship or just that shameless???

And so on.

But really, it’s the three of them being complete assholes who are totally ~in love with one another taking perverse joy in tormenting the tabloids and all that.

:D????

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

THAT’S RIGHT BITCH! It’s October and I am still watching and inexplicably blogging about Supernatural - a dinosaur of a television show that’s been on the air longer than most children I know have been alive. 

I know I’m An Old because I don’t think kids these days understand the struggle it was watching television before streaming. We had to wait for episodes. Hell, I don’t think kids these days even really have to wait for seasons. I mean, Voltron premiered on Netflix in 2016, capped off their seasons at 13 episodes a piece and, oh yeah - aired seasons 5 - 8  all in 2018. Was I mad about that? No of course not. Do I also say phrases like “kids these days? Yes, so who even knows if what I think is relevant anymore. 

Alright, so speaking of seasons, last time I looked at pilots and pilot seasons and how the streaming era is changing everything we know about starting a TV show. But once you’ve got your pilot down, now what? 

Not this kind of pilot. Also, based on the prerequisites for demon possession, we’re all agreed this co-pilot’s like, an alcoholic, right?

There’s a rule in TV (sort of) that the first six episodes (some might argue the first season entirely) should be a kind of rehash of the pilot. The pilot sets up your premise and once you’ve got your pilot down, your job as a TV writer is to re-establish that premise over and over again. You’re building your world, you’re writing it’s rules. You’re setting up a template, a formula for how your episodes are gonna play out. This helps your audience get to know the characters, get familiar with your world, get comfortable spending time with them. Essentially, you’re getting your audience to trust the show that they’re going to be tuning in to for at least the next 20-some-odd episodes. 

I’d also argue that this is important so that later, you can break that format later. I’m not saying you should break the trust your audience puts in you, and that’s probably a real fine line of distinction. But if you break your rules right, it can hit the audience with a big emotional sucker punch. Or, it can stand out as a real breakout, tentpole of an episode - I’m thinking specifically about Ghostfacers! In season 3, or Once More, With Feeling, from Buffy. Those episodes work, really work, because they deviate from the formula, but they only work because we know the formula so well.  And these aren’t big changes to the way episodes are done, they’re just shifted ever so slightly that they felt new again.. 

So what is the premise of the first four episodes Supernatural? What’s the formula they set up for the rest of the series? 

Brothers. I said it in my last post, I’ll say it again, Sam and Dean/Jensen Ackles and Jared Jared Padalecki are what makes this show. Full stop. I think we could have gotten 5 seasons out of a show starring two other dudes. I do not think this show could have gotten 15 seasons with two other dudes. So from the pilot through Phantom Traveler, we learn that Sam and Dean have a sh*tty home life - their mother was killed by some mysterious evil thing and their father raised them to be little demon-hunting child soldiers while they look for the killer. Oh yeah, and Sam’s girlfriend died the exact same way which we will never forget because Sam’s gonna have a dream about it almost every episode from here on out. We set up the tension between the brothers - that Sam got to go to college while Dean stayed with their dad like a good boi. We learn that everybody hates each other probably because they are deeply and unhealthily codependent love each other so damn much. 

Next we get the basic rundown of the season arc: 

Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days. The Winchester brothers are looking for him and by extension, looking for answers as to what killed their mom/Sam’s girlfriend. We also get the basic rundown of every episode: dad is a mysterious and elusive sonuvuabitch, so every episode they go about, say it with me now:

“The family business.” I would also accept “Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can,” but why can’t I find a gif for it?!? 

Backtracking on this but you know what else gets hecking established with the Winchesters? Sam is the cute one with the people skills and the puppy dog face, so you’d naturally assume that he’s the soft one. No. Not the case. Dean is the Sofffft Boi. The SOFTest boi. Dean wants Sam to talk about his feelings, Dean wants Sam to not keep things bottled up, Dean is the one who desperately wants to keep a hold of his family and also is just deeply broken and traumatized on the inside and oh no, I told myself I wouldn’t do this but I did it anyway. Sorry not sorry. This watch, I’m really picking up on the fact that Dean is, weirdly, the Mom Friend in this first season. Like, he’s basically a Trailer-Trash-Teen-Pregnancy Mom who’ll give you spaghettios five nights a week and a shot of whiskey so you’ll quit yer bitchin’ and go to sleep faster, but he’s the Mom nonetheless. Later in this season and in other seasons, I think you even see him do his dumb-baby-best filling in as the Mom when John went off the deep end. Anyway, I have a lot of feelings and we don’t have time to unpack all of that so I’ll just move on.

RUDE.

Next we set up our Supernatural Bag of Holding - what’s in it? What are the mystical artifacts they use to kill those evil sons of bitches? First up is The Car. Damn, I am not a cars girl, but that 67 Chevy, it does things to me. 

This car has some weird pavlovian trigger for me, it’s not NATURAL. 

The journal. 

John Winchester, you journal the way I imagine a psycho killer journals and I would just really appreciate it if you could be ANY MORE ORGANIZED THAN THIS.

The Trunk Full of Weapons - I love that in these first few episodes (and possibly the rest of the series???) they give this HELLA conspicuous look every time they open the trunk full of weapons. It’s hilarious EVERY TIME.

No, you’re not being obvious at ALL, guys.

The Fake ID’s - from credit cards to impersonating feds, these boys are not afraid to break the law to save some lives and I feel like that’s...that’s the theme of the show maybe? They’re here to save people and they’ll do what they have to to do that? In a world that clearly establishes a dark vs. light/good vs. evil dichotomy, the Winchester make it their job to live in a world of grey? Basically? 

Next on the checklist for this first season of Supernatural - it’s spoopy. *Spoop mileage may vary.* I said it last time, but I’ll say it again: this first season aired at 9:00pm at night. That means it’s primetime stuff for the 18 - 25 year old crowd, but they don’t want to risk some 13 year old watching it and getting too scared before bed. 9:00pm is X Files time slots, Fringe time slots. 9:00pm says you’re gonna get something a little more gruesome and gory and shocking than at 8pm. 8pm is for Friends. Vampire Diaries aired at 8pm its first season. 9pm is for the real adult content (but not too adult because the audience is still mostly children). 

SPOOP!

But yeah, let’s look at the real horror vibe that you get off of these first four episodes. We talked about La Llorona from the first episode - this is a legit ghost that they fight. The kids at the end that literally drag their mom to hell? Pretty spooky stuff. The Wendigo in episode 2 is a literal monster of the week and so for me personally, it’s not that scary, but it is a cannibal monster that eats human flesh. Dead in the Water has vibes from both Jaws and Friday the 13th. Everything from the lighting to the sound design let’s you know this is a horror show, or as horror as you can get on network television. Listen to the scenes just before somebody dies and you get a nice creepy “Come play with me” whisper coming out of the water. I’m a little spooked just thinking about it now. Yes I know I’m a chicken, and I’m OK WITH THAT. And if we go past my season 1 disc 1 into episode 5, Bloody Mary is STILL terrifying and I STILL watched that episode with half my face covered. That’s where I am these days. It’s 2020 and the world is a nightmare but imagining Bloody Mary creepin’ out in my mirror does not need to be a part of it. 

SHE F*CKIN CLIMBS OUT OF THE MIRROR GUYS! I DIDN’T KNOW SHE COULD DO THAT!!!

Then we get Phantom Traveler and our very first case of black-eyed-demonic possession. Watching this episode now, it’s like watching someone’s home movie of their first steps as a baby. They’ve never even done an exorcism before guys! They have to read the exorcism rite out of the journal! It’s so cute!!! Let’s not think too hard about how they got that full sized bottle of holy water past TSA in a post-9/11 world. And try to ignore how poorly these special effects have aged - the smoke from the demon possession?? OMG! THIS EFFECT! I’m pretty sure I could make that effect with my first ever graphic design software on my, like, 2009 mac book pro. So cute and soooo good! I’m gonna leave that CG plane alone, they’re doing their best. 

SO cute and SOOO good!

You want to know what my favorite established staple of Supernatural season 1 is? The extras. LOOKIT these guys - 

Wendigo you have Cory Monteith who later goes on to star in Glee. 

You have Alden Ehrenreich, Debatable Han Solo, doing a lot of face work with very little dialogue. 

You have Gina Holden who is in SO. MANY. Spooky-type things! My personal favs are Blood Ties and Harper’s Island, but she’s in Fringe, she’s in the SAW franchise, she’s in the Final Destination franchise, she was in some deleted scenes on an episode of Teen Wolf! I LOVE seeing Gina Holden, anywhere she pops up. 

And speaking of Harper’s Island, you’ve also got Callum Keith Rennie who played John Wakefield in Harper’s Island, a show that was A+ Great and I highly recommend if you like Agatha Christie and/or murder mysteries. 

Honestly, Rennie looks like he’s about to murder a bitch in this episode of Supernatural, it is not a stretch to believe he’s a psycho killer.

Dead in the Water you’ve got Amy Acker, a regular in Joss Whedon and Whedon-adjacent type shows.

Good LORD, this wardrobe was SO 2000′s WB and it PAINED me.

And finally in Phantom Traveler, you have Jaime Ray Newman who also shows up in a lot of the shows that I like to watch. She was in Eureka, she was in Midnight Texas, both kind of terrible shows that I love because they are terrible, but she was ALSO in Bates Motel and Veronica Mars, which are generally considered to be more quality, so there’s that. 

This still implies that they actually LIT scenes, which is a SURPRISE TO ME. 

Point is, seeing these actors in Supernatural back in the early 2000’s felt like I was seeing the start of their careers. That may or may not have been the case, but as a viewer it was exciting to see them pop up again in other things.

So what about TV now? Do we still use those first 6 (sometimes more) episodes to re-establish the premise? Well, it certainly hasn’t gone away. Look at any network show that still produces 22 - 24 episodes a season and you’ll still see that the pilot season just keeps re-iterating the premise established in the pilot episode, specifically in anything that’s procedural - that’s you’re monster/problem-of-the-week shows. Think sitcoms like Brooklyn 99 or Superstore or dramedies like Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. The reason being that these shows play in the traditional model of television - on a network, once a week. They are not releasing episodes all at one time or relying on their audiences to stream a whole season in one sitting. These are shows that still assume that someone out there is going to tune in or stumble across their show one night while they’re surfing channels (lol) and need to be told, no matter what episode they’ve just turned on, what the premise of the show is. They need to be formulaic so that people can pick it up anywhere at any time.

But what about shows that don’t follow this traditional model? I mentioned in my last post that seasons are getting shorter and shorter, so when you’re writing a show that only has (8) episodes instead of 22, how much time do you really want to spend establishing the premise? Because of these short seasons, you’re also dealing with shows that are more serialized and less procedural than their predecessors - meaning, you’re dealing with a show that focuses on a season long story (think Game of Thrones or Stranger Things where each episode is an important chapter that you can’t skip) vs. a procedural (think the shows I mentioned above or any cop drama really) where each episode is it’s own contained story, neatly wrapped up at the end. These are shows where you can skip an episode and still know where you are in the show no matter where you start or stop watching. Supernatural is a little bit of both - procedural with their monsters of the week AND serialized with a season long arc. We’ll talk more on that in a later post. 

Not only are we getting shorter seasons, but we’re also dealing with shows that are not released over long periods of time. A few streaming channels, like Disney+ and HBO Max, make a deliberate point to slow-drip their seasons, but most streaming channels will release entire seasons in one shot. You don’t need to worry about your audience missing an episode because they have 24/7 access to all the episodes all at once. And for the most part, they’re designed to be binged. They start at full speed and they don’t slow down to keep driving you to the finale. 

Do I think the procedural is ever going to go away? No. As much talk as there is about dropping the cop drama from TV all together, I think audiences still love a good mystery series. And you can’t just think of procedurals as cop dramas either - a procedural also covers most if not all sitcoms. New Girl, Letterkenny, Parks and Rec, Superstore - these all have a premise that doesn't change from week to week. They may make tiny shifts away from what they set up in the pilot, but by and large, you know what you’re getting into any time you turn on an episode. I think we as an audience still like that kind of familiarity. We may be seeing a bigger swing towards more serialized content, but that doesn't mean that the procedural is dead and gone. 

So that’s what we’ve got for Supernatural - two dudes, driving around in a car full of spears and hand guns, killing bad guys. Some day, they may even find that father that’s missing. What could possibly go wrong? A lot. Stay tuned. 

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

With All Your Heart - 4

The club was packed, it was too cramped to get up and dance. We had tried a few times and every time we'd end up with some douche bag trying to rub himself up against us. Yes, i was horny but I wasn't that desperate!! In the end we found a table and sat drinking cocktails and catching up on some girl talk.

The barman came over and placed another round down on the table and we all looked at each other in confusion "excuse me, we didn't order any more drinks..." Wanda started to say.

"The guys at the bar brought them for you" he said pointing to a group of guys who were looking over smiling at us.

"We're good thanks we were just getting ready to leave" i said getting to my feet and grabbing my purse from the seat beside me.

"Come on Y/N, this could be your chance.... their not awful looking" Nat said grabbing my hand and trying to pull me back into my seat.

"Im just not feeling it tonight Nat, you guys can stay if you like but I'm gonna head back to the tower"

"We cant let you go alone...."

"Guys i'll be fine, i haven't had too many and i know how to defend myself remember. I learned from the best" i smiled at Nat.

"Fine but text me when you get back so i know your okay"

"Yes mom!" I laughed shaking my head. We said good bye and i walked slowly back to the tower with my heals in my hand, no way was i walking home in those!

As i walked down the hall towards my room i heard the familiar moans coming from Bucky's room so i headed straight there. Like always i quietly opened the door and was about to slip into his room but as i looked over to his bed i had the shock of a lifetime!! Bucky wasn't having a nightmare.... he was laid on his bed completely naked stroking his cock while moaning and groaning. I clenched my thighs together and felt myself dripping wet at the sight in front of me.

"Fuck yes!! Oh god..... yes....Y/N" he suddenly moaned and i swear i almost died on the spot!! I decided to take a chance.... the alcohol i had been drinking all night giving me the extra confidence boost. I slipped into his room and closed the door behind me "you need a hand with that soldier?" I asked him quietly but loud enough that he would hear....he had been so lost in his actions that he hadnt heard me enter his room, he sat up looking over at me with wide eyes.

"Y/N! Wh... what are you.... this isnt what it looks like. How long have you been standing there??" He said grabbing his sheet to cover himself up "why are you here?"

"I heard you, thought you were having another nightmare" i shrugged.

"Im so sorry" he said quickly avoiding all eye contact.

"Buck its fine, why are you sorry??"

"For what i was doing while thinking about you...."

"I don't mind that you think of me while you touch yourself.... i think about you" i said truthfully letting out a flirty chuckle.

"You do??...."

"All the time" i nodded dropping my shoes on the floor and walking closer to his bed.

"Im dreaming right??" He asked shaking his head like he couldn't believe this was happening.

"Nope, im pretty sure your awake Buck" i said pulling up the hem of my dress just enough to allow me to move my legs so i could straddle his waist.... the black lace of the thong i was wearing just visible enough for him to see. Bucky drew in a deep breath at the pressure against his hard cock when i moved against him a little.

"If you don't want this..... if you want me to leave... now would be the time to tell me to leave" i said looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Your not going anywhere!" Bucky practically growled at me before sitting up and pulling me into his arms as his mouth crashed against mine.

"Fuck.... your wearing too much. I need to see you" he said breathlessly as he leaned back to get a good look.

"Then take it off Sarge" i smiled at him running my fingers through his hair.

Bucky grabbed each side of my dress near the front slit and ripped it in half. I wasn't expecting it and it made me gasp, it surprised me but also turned me on even more!

"I liked that dress" i pouted playfully at him making him chuckle before he pushed the rest of it off my shoulders and leant forward taking one of my nipples into his mouth, his left hand stroking up my stomach until he cupped my free breast... rolling my nipple between his fingers. I was moaning and rolling my hips against his hard cock when he suddenly grabbed me and spun us so he had me pinned underneath him.

"I want you so bad" he said looking at me with dark lust blown eyes, his hand trailing down until he reached the tiny bit of lace covering me where i wanted him the most.

"So take me, I'm yours James" i said meaning it completely. Id let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do to me as long as i could have him. I didn't miss the look he got in his eye when i said i was his.... it was dark and possessive but it was sexy as hell!!

Bucky reached down and ripped off the lace thong in one pull throwing it to the floor before his hand reached down to cup my pussy, the heel of his hand pressing against my clit made the most pornagraphic noise escape my mouth, they only got louder when i felt him slip two fingers into my dripping hole.

"Shit your so warm and tight..... i cant wait to get my cock in you doll" he said as his fingers started a hard and fast assault.

"F..fuck!! Bucky I'm gonna come baby!!"

"Yeah? Fucking come for me!! Let me feel you grip my fingers with your tight pussy!"

I wrapped my arms around him tighter as i felt myself about to explode, when i did i screamed! I couldn't hold back even if i wanted to.... no one had ever made me feel as good as this just with their fingers.

"Shit.... Bucky i need you to fuck me! Now!! I need to feel you inside me right fucking now" i begged.

"I got you baby don't worry" he smirked as he gave his cock a few strokes before lining himself up with my hole.

"Your so wet for me baby...." he said as his pushed the head of his cock inside me. He was bigger than anyone i had ever been with before and i hissed a little at the stretch. As he pushed further in his pressed a kiss to my lips then had to gasp for air "fuck me your tight.... your squeezing my cock so good! I gotta take a second here or I'm gonna come right now!" He said holding himself still with his eyes closed, his arms braced either side of my head.

"Bucky.... i need you to move" i moaned trying to grind my hips up against him but his hand was firmly on my hip holding me in place.

"Okay im good...." he said nodding his head and opening his eyes as he slowly started to move in and out of me.

"God!! Fuck me!! Bucky.... harder please!!" I cried wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer to me, my nails clawing at his back.

Bucky did exactly what i wanted, i could feel my orgasm fast approaching.

"I can feel how close you are.... im right behind you" he said still thrusting hard. I moved my hand to reach down and rub my clit but he quickly grabbed it pushed it way "nu uh... thats my job" he said with a wink.... he actually winked at me!! His hand moved between us and i felt his fingers draw circles on my bundle of nerves. It was the final push i needed and i came screaming his name, my vision turning white... then i heard Bucky's loud grunt as he came hard, i could feel his release feeling me up, my pussy fluttering around his hard cock.

Bucky's head collapsed against my shoulder as he tried to calm his breathing "Fuck me.... that was...."

"Amazing" i finished off letting out a contented laugh as my fingers run through his hair.

"Yeah it was" he agreed lifting his head up so he could look at me, then he captured my mouth with his once again.

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming??" He asked looking down at me, his eyes taking in everything.

"Im pretty sure yeah" i nodded "I'm so glad i decided to come home early!"

"Why did you come home early?"

"I wasn't feeling it" i shrugged "there were some guys trying to hit on us but... all i kept thinking about was you" i said truthfully, there was no reason to lie anymore.

"You mean that?"

"Yeah. Buck I've had a thing for you since the second you arrived here"

"What?? Why didn't you say anything??"

"I thought you hated me to start off with and then i was scared. What if i told you and you didnt feel the same?? I didnt want to loose my friend"

"Doll.... you'll never loose me. So why are you telling me this now??"

"Well the fact that your cock is still inside me.... means you like me too right??" I said wiggling my eyebrows at him. He chuckled and shook his head but i felt his cock start to twitch and then it was getting hard again. My eyes went wide as i realised what was happening "already??"

Bucky shrugged his shoulder with a shit eating grin "side effects of the serum"

"Oh god, you gonna be the death of me Barnes!"

"Never. So come on, why did you decide to tell me tonight?"

"I dont know...."

"I think you do" he said moving his hips a little making a moan fall from my lips.

"I just.... fuck you feel so good Buck! No one has ever made me feel this good before!" I told him as he slowly moved his cock in and out of my pussy, his lips kissing and nipping at my neck.

"Tell me why tonight?"

"When i saw you laying here with your cock in your hand i couldn't breathe! I got so wet just watching you.... i wanted you so bad Buck.... and then you said my name" i let out another moan as his cock brushed against my g spot making my toes curl and my hips raise up off of the bed "i decided i was just gonna go for it. I wanted you so bad i had to give it a shot. I had a little liquid courage in me to give me a shove too i guess"

"I nearly died when i heard you.... i was so ashamed you had seen me like that"

"It was beautiful, id watch you all day"

"Id rather you take part" he smiled before kissing me again, thrusting harder into me.

"I think you've ruined me for other men though Buck.... no ones ever gonna make me feel this good"

"Your mine now" he growled "there will be no other men!" He kissed me hard as his hips worked hard and fast.

"Tell me your mine!!"

"Im yours Bucky, all yours" i cried as i came again, Bucky following seconds behind me. Bucky fell besides me panting slightly, he pulled me close and pressed a kiss to my lips.

"You should delete all those horrible dating apps you have too! You wont need them" he mumbled against my lips.

"Consider it done" i smiled stroking the side of his face getting a good look at him.... he really was beautiful!

"Your amazing doll"

"Your not so bad yourself"

"You wanna come grab a shower with me? We should clean up.... we've made quite the mess"

"Sure, your gonna have to let me borrow a shirt by the way. You completely destroyed my dress.... thats two of my dresses you've destroyed"

"But i like you like this"

"I bet you do, but i don't think the others will if they catch me walking back to my room naked"

"Fine! But only because i don't want anyone else to see you naked" he said picking me up and carrying me into the bathroom.

Tagging: @siren-queen03

[tarithenurse]

Orphan - 3

Starring:  Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: ENDGAME SPOILERS! Angst (surprise!), confrontations, questions that needs answering, sadness, loss, confusion, feeling homeless/rootless, lack of will, loads of other sad feelings. Sorry. A/N: So, yes, this is starting to move along and I’m very touched by the responses I’ve gotten on just the 2 first chapters. As always, if you want a tag: let me know. Feel free to reblog or comment as I adore any sort of feedback. Who knows...one day I might even get better thanks to it? ;)

3. Family or not

Of course it’s not a big happy family reunion (whatever’s left of it). It’s an awkward walk through the autumn forest, stuck between a dude known for his robot suit and a chick who is part robot. Cyborg. At least Rhodes, because you’ve recognized him even with the lack of formal introductions, seems to be a bit sorry about the way things are going, but you probably bear some of the guilt for that as well.

No one says a lot after an initial phone call has been made, so it’s just the wet crunch of leaves muffling the footsteps as you trudge around the lake to a place probably used for canoeing during the summer. Now it’s place for a series of black, imposing cars with equally stern people whom you’ve seen on youtube, news coverage, and the few printed papers still in the making nowadays, and where Rhodes hadn’t seemed surprised by your existence…well…it’s a very different matter for the rest and your only comfort is that not all of the funeral guests facing you.

I should’ve stayed in bed today. The fight-or-flight response is long gone, replaced by a leaden sludge internally seeping from the guts to the feet. Why did I come? Spying on the funeral of a dad you’d only just found out that you had had wasn’t going to bring him or anyone else back, and right now? Right now you wanted your mom, not for the first time and probably not for the last time since she got killed years ago. Why did you never tell me, mommy? A new wave of guilt wrecks you, tearing at your heart for blaming the only family you’ve ever known, and you feel the hot swell of tears threaten to fill you eyes and drip from your nose.

I won’t let them have that too. No one moves a muscle as you clench your fists, your shoulders rising and falling as you combat yourself through the breathing. And no one interrupts Rhodes as he briefly explains about a trivial escapade decades ago that introduced the great Tony Stark to the concept of consequences. Consequence. Me. Just an accident that could be shoved into the dark recesses of a closet. No wonder your mom hadn’t told you who your father was when you were a kid, begging to have a full set of parents like your classmates.

But something must have changed with the Snappening, something else than just guilt had reared its head and made Stark leave you the answers to all the questions you’d ever had…even if he didn’t know id you’d be back.

“Confusion,” a dreamy voice lisps to your right, “sadness and…frustration…there’s so much hurt.”

You don’t look at her nor the person saying some nonsense along the lines of “I am groot”, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“Oh…sorry.”

“Bad time or not, what do we do with her?” Nebula sneers more to herself than the rest. “Apparently, we’re not supposed to kill her.”

Even with the decent boots you’d scrounged, your toes are getting cold while you let them talk, make up their minds about your future both because you know these people will only leave you very little to say but mainly because you have no freaking idea what you want. The plan had only reached as far as to have a look at the funeral to see what you might have been missing out on. After that? Well, plan or not, now things have been set in motion that you can’t undo.

“Alright, [Y/N],” Rhodes finally turns to you with a frown, “let’s get you somewhere warm, waddaya say?”

You just nod and crawl onto the backseat of the black sedan he points at where you’re joined by the two men with the broadest shoulders, one of which is rock solid. *Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield* Sure they were close then and apparently now because the men don’t leave a lot of room for you and you don’t dare shift for a more comfortable position, choosing instead to sit with everything possible tugged in tightly.

It’s unbearably silent after the last car door slams and the cortege of black vehicles move onto the road leading around the lake. Why did I come? I’m an idjit. The two relics makes it unbearably warm to sit in the car…or perhaps it’s the nerves. But you’ll be damned if you speak up now even if it’s to ask for a window to be opened. No one question Rhodes as he navigates them further from the Stark Residence, following a short stretch of highway before heading to what must be the nearest motel lying snuggly by the river.

“I’ll uhh…get a room for ya, wait here,” War Machine (minus armour) announces and leaves two super soldiers, one orphan, and a blue cyborg behind without waiting for an answer.

This isn’t for me, right? “He…doesn’t have to. I’m sure I can get my bed back at the hostel.”

There’s a very obvious snort of disbelief from the front, but at least the Captain is kind enough to  try to turn to face you and explain: “Don’t take this the wrong way, miss, but this is for our sake. Gives us a chance to talk with you…know where you are.”

“So I’m not s’posed to leave…”

“No.”

“Nebula!” Rogers chastises to no other effect than a scoff and shrug.

Why not admit it too, Capcicle? “Not a prisoner, just…grounded? Does that make you my daddy?”

The blush spreading rapidly across the blond man’s face is gloriously deepened by Barnes’ rolling laughter which continues as the car doors are opened from the outside by the only guy who knew about your existence. Behind him is a tiny crowd including a guy with a mohawk, a green woman, and…the fuck? Are those antennae?!

 …   Clint   …

Good, old Tony Always-a-Surprise Stark. Not only did the guy have to go off and be the biggest hero of them all, he’s made sure to make a backup and kept her tugged away safe and far away from the messy (yet glamorous) life he’d lived. Glancing over at the chick, Clint can’t help but see parts of both the father’s and even the little sister’s features. The eyes. Fuck, it hurts more than he’d imagined.

Wonder what Nata– But no, Natasha won’t have any thoughts on what to do. There’s no calm logic from the world’s best redhead to counter the scared and cowed emotions streaming from [Y/N], as she’s called, who’s waiting silently for a verdict.

She’d come prepared, Tony’s daughter. All the documents and shit that Stark had left after the Snappening are spread out on the bed as proof of her existence just in case no one would believe her or Rhodes.

“I am Grooot?”

“What do you want?” the raccoon translates easily. “Why show up today? What’s the point?”

Nimble hands wring a snippet of a jacket that seems to be second-hand. “I dunno…guess it was sorta to…” She sighs, and it almost makes sense to Clint what this is about. “I only remember seeing him once and I didn’t know then. Now I’ve got a-a half-sister? It doesn’t feel real!”

“So you went, made sure they’re there…then what?” The odd creature is feisty for its size, a sort of feral smugness playing on the little face. “Want money?”

“No, that’s not –“

“All his cool gear?”

“Why would I –“

“Ah! Marry the grieving widow to –“

A mix of shouts and protests shut the furry interrogator up even if it’s probably only going to be for a while – it doesn’t take a lot of time together with Rocket to figure that out. Or why.

“Listen, I don’t have a fucking plan. Okay? I appear on some poor guys lap in the middle of a lecture only to find out it’s been more than five years! I got no home, no one to go to, no job. Maybe, some old pictures and books have survived, but that’s it. Stark might’ve been my father, but he’s never been my dad and I don’t belong with his family!” There’s a subtle movement from the Quill-guy, but no words break the roaring silence that follows [Y/N]’s outburst.

She needs a home.

“You’re not going back to the hostel.” Clint hears himself declare, already pulling the phone out of the pocket. “You’re not gonna be on your own.”

[words-and-seeds]

Black Widow AU 1/?

So, I was watching one of those old noir films, where the wife kills her husband and the unsuspecting private investigator gets pulled into the black widow’s web, and it gave me the idea for a Jacob/April AU. Only instead of a PI, Jacob is the homicide detective on the case.

Anyway, here’s Wonderwall chapter one

word count: 2,535

Tick. 

Tick.

Tick. 

The ticking clock was the only sound in the otherwise silent house, and it was sawing across Jacob’s last nerve. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he had been dragged out of a nice warm bed only two hours after he’d crawled into it. It wasn’t that his partner was looking bright eyed and bushy tailed - even though Jacob knew for a fact that Eli was running on as much sleep as he was - it wasn’t even the watery black coffee that had gone cold in his hand during their walkthrough. 

It was the whole house. 

It was a nice house. Huge. Something he’d never be able to afford on a cop’s salary, even if he saved for the next sixty years. It looked like the kind of house Johnny would be looking to buy the minute he made senior partner. Something that would impress all the other senior partners at the firm. High ceilings, more windows than wall space, and all glass and glossy antiques. It was sparkling clean and obviously well maintained, but there was a vibe that Jacob didn’t like. 

A discordant note in the symphony that the surroundings were trying to suggest. 

That, Jacob thought, might have had something to do with the portrait sitting above the mantel in the living room. It was large, stretching from floor to ceiling, and showed the perfect family. Five people, all perfectly turned out, with nary a flyaway hair, in perfectly pressed clothing, with perfectly straight white teeth on display in big smiles. 

It gave Jacob the willies. 

There was no such thing as the perfect family. If his childhood and formative years hadn’t taught him that, then his years on the force certainly had. 

“It’s like something out of The Stepford Wives,” Eli said, stepping up to stand beside him. “Creepy.”

Jacob only nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off the portrait. There was something there. Something that set all his instincts on edge, but nothing that he could put his finger on. 

“Why are we here, Eli? So some rich asshole bites it in bed on a weekend. We’re homicide detectives. He probably just had a lousy ticker,” Jacob said, with more than a little bite in his voice. 

His partner of the last twelve years only levelled a look at him. “The M.E. says it’s suspicious. A healthy athletic man in the prime of his life with no history of medical problems pops his clogs in bed on the one weekend - the neighbors say - that the wife and kids are out of town.”

“Coincidence,” Jacob sneered. “Or he was getting it on with his tennis instructor while the wife was away and overexerted himself.”

“It’s pilates instructors with the yuppie types these days, Jake. You’re behind the times.” Eli raised his hand to wave off the objection. “In any case, it’s going down as suspicious until the medical examiner completes the autopsy. That’s why we’re here.”

Jacob sighed, then turned back to the portrait. “Has anyone actually told the wife yet?”

“Yeah, and let me tell you, that lady is cold as ice, man. When we broke the news, there was nothing. No tears, no questions, just a ‘I’ll be home shortly.’” He shrugged and turned a grin on Jacob. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks that she did it. Probably for the money. It’s always the spouse.”

Jacob felt the temperature in the room plummet and his gaze was drawn over Eli’s shoulder to the woman standing in the doorway, watching the two of them. Even as his partner murmured, “oh shit” and hurriedly turned to face her, she continued to stare. 

Those ice blue eyes packed a punch. It didn’t help that they were in a face designed to steal his breath and haunt his dreams. 

When no one spoke, one of those perfectly arched brows winged up, and it was then that Jacob’s eyes were drawn to the bags underneath them, and the creases at the corners of her mouth and eyes. 

“Actually, Detective, the only money brought to this marriage is mine. Henry was much better at spending money than earning it.” 

Eli flushed darkly, but he still fumbled his ID from his pocket and held it out for her inspection. “April Gannon, I presume? I’m Detective Palmer, ma’am. This is Lieutenant Seed. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Seed?” she asked, with the barest upturn tilt of her lips, as she held her hand out for his ID. She examined both and handed them back. He could almost read the thoughts bouncing around her head. With his long hair and beard, Eli looked like he would be more comfortable leading a biker gang than busting one. 

On the other hand, Jacob held no illusions about his looks or demeanor. His time in the army had been the perfect training for the police force, and he had discovered an inherent skill for police work. He had a talent for compartmentalizing, and he was terrifyingly patient. He was well aware that his colleagues referred to him as The Soldier -  he knew he was respected by most, and feared by some - but emotion had no place in the job. 

“Why are you in my house? I was led to believe my husband had some kind of cardiac episode.”

Jacob glanced at his partner, content to let Eli take the lead. He was much better at slipping into the good cop role than Jacob was. 

“Why don’t we talk in the dining room,” Eli said quietly. “Where are your children?”

April stiffened, though neither of them had moved to touch her, and she allowed herself to be led into formal dining room and seated. Once there, she rested her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her shoulders weren’t shaking, she wasn’t crying, but she was rubbing her eyes. “Forgive me, I haven’t slept in over twenty four hours. What was that?”

“I asked where your children are, Mrs. Gannon,” Eli said. 

“My children are at a hotel with a babysitter. I couldn’t bring them back here.” She let one hand drop to her lap, but the other supported her head. “And it’s Hepscott, not Gannon. Dr. Hepscott. I kept my maiden name.”

“How did your husband feel about that?” Jacob asked, finally piping in. 

She leveled those laser blue eyes at him again. She assumed the quick change of subject was an interrogation technique that worked well for them. “Does it matter? You still haven’t told me why, exactly, you’re here if my husband died of natural causes.”

Eli glanced back and forth between them before he cleared his throat. “It’s just routine, ma’am. Your husband was in the prime of his life, he had no reported health problems. We’re just covering all the bases.”

“Are you going to do an autopsy?” she demanded.

The silence stretched on just past the point where it was starting to become uncomfortable.

“Yes, it’s routine in cases where a cause of death isn’t readily apparent.”

April closed her eyes, then pushed to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said, enunciating clearly, and walked across the room to a sideboard laden with bottles. She picked brandy, fumbled inside the cupboard for a tumbler, and poured a generous amount into it. 

Jacob couldn’t help but be impressed by the way she tossed it back, taking her medicine. It didn’t bring any color to her face, but she looked like she needed the shock to her system. 

“Dr. Hepscott, I think it would be better if we spoke about this tomorrow,” Eli said, “we can give you a ride back to your hotel.”

Turning her gaze away from the amber liquid swirling in the cup, April made her way back to her chair. She sipped the brandy again, letting it warm her from the inside out. “Yes, I think that would be best,” she paused, “I imagine that my home is a crime scene?” 

“No.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. They’d had time to collect everything they would need in the five hours it had taken her to return from her vacation spot. “But it’s best that you don’t bring your children back tonight.”

That got a reaction, Jacob noted with interest, as she turned on Eli like a snake. “Don’t presume to tell me what’s best,” she practically spat the word at him, “for my children.”

As quickly as it had come, all that fire and venom retreated back under the ice. That’s some control you have there, doctor, Jacob thought. “Let’s get you back to your hotel. We can talk tomorrow.”

April was silent as they wound their way through the suburbs and back into the city center. Jacob’s instincts were telling him that they were missing some piece of a puzzle that he hadn’t even been aware he was trying to put together, some facts that he didn’t have yet. But facts were his business, and they would be getting to the bottom of this, one way or another. 

His eyes drifted to the rear view mirror. The car was awash with red from the taillights of the cars surrounding them, but the good doctor’s hands were gripped together in her lap, knuckles white. 

Grief, Jacob wondered, or guilt. 

“Where have you been the last few days, Dr. Hepscott?”

“Away.” She laid her head back, closed her eyes. “It’s one of our favorite spots. Our escape.”

She jerked upright again when glaring white light flooded the car, when he turned into the driveway of an exclusive hotel. If the looks the valets were shooting his way were anything to go on, his old and battered Ford was not something their usual clientele would be caught dead in. He halfway wondered if he would be asked to move along because his car was lowering property values. 

April climbed out and, ignoring both Jacob and Eli, hurried toward the front desk, her stride brisk and businesslike. The glass doors slid open and she disappeared into the building. 

Eli whistled. “I’ve heard the phrase cold as ice before, but I’ve never actually seen someone with ice water flowing through their veins.” 

He glanced over at Jacob as they eased back into the flow of traffic. “You’re awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I think I need eight hours of sleep, a hot shower, and the autopsy report before I could venture an opinion.” 

That got Eli laughing. He clapped a hand on Jacob’s shoulder and gave him a little shake. “Keep dreaming. You’re going to have to settle for maybe six and the sludge they serve in the morgue. The shower is a good idea, though.”

There was silence in the morgue the next morning. The autopsy on the late Henry Gannon had been completed, and the room smelled of powerful antiseptics and industrial strength cleaning solutions, but there was something beneath that. Some smell that couldn’t be washed away no matter how powerfully you scrubbed. It always tickled the back of Jacob’s throat whenever he had to spend too long in there.

The smell of death. He’d been up close to it for too many years to not be used to it by now, but it still brought back the shades of bad memories. 

“It was definitely cardiac arrest-” Dr. Lindsey said, signing off on a file with a flourish that was entirely too dramatic by half. 

“So, natural causes and we get the weekend off, right?” Eli asked. 

Dr. Lindsey glared at the interruption and continued, “but,” he stressed the word, “I found an injection site. Since there are no indications of any medical issues that would need injections, I took blood, urine, and tissue samples. We’ll get the results back in six to eight weeks. It’s possible that he was doping up, I did find signs of cocaine abuse, but nothing he would have injected.”

Eli and Jacob exchanged a glance. “Guess it’s time for that chat with the merry widow.”

Charles frowned. “You’re going to question the widow about drug abuse? That’s a little tactless the day after the death, even for The Soldier.”

If Jacob was offended by the nickname, he certainly didn’t let it show. “That,” he said, “and she’s a doctor. I figure if anyone knows their way around needles, it’s her.”

April was out of place in the interrogation room, and it showed. The institutional grey of the walls blended depressingly into the cheap and cracked linoleum on the floor, giving the entire room a flat, no-nonsense feel. 

Her hair had been pulled back into a braid, and her makeup had been drawn on with the precision of a general making battle plans. The ice shield was back up in full force, with none of the chinks of the night before showing. She had her hands in her lap, and she was perched on the edge of her chair, looking like she wanted as little of her body to make contact with it as possible. 

Given the amount of bodily fluids that had probably made contact with it from past suspects, Jacob didn’t blame her all that much for it.  

“Thank you for coming down, doctor,” Eli said, as he took one of the seats in front of her. “We know this is a difficult time for you. How are your children holding up?”

She gave him a brief, brittle smile. “Their father is dead and, instead of me being with them, I was asked to come to a police station. How do you think that’s affecting them?”

“It’s just routine, ma’am. We have a few follow up questions for you. We’ll get through them as quickly as possible and have you back home in no time.”

“Did you husband have any medical issues you were aware of?” Jacob asked, keeping his voice cool and level. She swung her gaze to his, and maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn her eyes tightened. 

“Not that I was aware of,” she replied. She kept her unblinking gaze on his until Eli asked the next question. 

“Any substance abuse issues? Drugs, alcohol?”

April sighed and looked down at her hands, she wasn’t twisted her fingers or rubbing her hands in any nervous gestures, but the white knuckle grip from the night before was back. 

It wasn’t suspicious, people reacted to grief and stress in all kinds of different ways. 

And guilt, Jacob’s mind supplied. 

“He was fond of scotch. And whiskey. But I can’t say he overindulged.”

It felt like she was picking her words carefully. Not rehearsing her answers as such, but giving them bits and pieces, half-truths and evasions, instead of honest answers. It was making Jacob’s palms itch.

“And have you ever given him an injection?”

No reaction. Not even the merest suggestion of a hint of shock.

“Am I being accused of something?” she asked, very softly. 

“Not yet,” Eli replied. 

“In that case, I think I would like my lawyer present.” Now she smiled, though the reason for her amusement wasn’t immediately apparent. Her eyes went to Jacob, and they were dancing. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble contacting him. His name is John. John Seed.”

[sirinaheart]

Avengers Christmas

Summary- Christmas at the compound was never normal

Characters- The original Avengers

Words- 1153

It was Christmas morning, Tony was down stairs, starting the morning coffee, yawning, running his hand through his hair, he would wait 10 more minutes before turning Christmas music on, two minutes later Natasha came down stairs, she had a tee shirt and shorts on, which was uncommon for her, she smiled at Tony who was sat on the couch with his coffee, Nat grabbed her favorite mug and poured herself a glass, sitting on the chair.

“How long?” Natasha asked him sitting on her feet, wrapping the afghan around her legs so Tony would stop his prying eyes. Tony snapped up to grab his phone. “5 minutes” Nat took a sip of her hot coffee that taste like chocolate. “Steve’s up I bet, you know him though, likes to stay in bed” “Thor, Bruce, Clint?” Tony looked around at the empty compound, presents lined the tree. Natasha shook her head. “Clint wasn’t in bed, but he has family, so I don’t expect him, Thor and Bruce well… good luck Tony” Natasha smiled and took another sip of coffee to ignore Tony. Tony checked his phone time, at least 10 minutes had passed since he came down stairs. “Music time!” Tony shouted excitedly. “J.A.R.V.I.S, Christmas playlist throughout the building” “Yes sir” His robot AI responded.

Rudolf the red nose reindeer begins to play through out the compound, Tony’s face lit up to the music that was now playing, dancing a very bad version of the waltz around the giant tree that was in the center of the living space, Natasha covered her ears hoping it would drown the sound of the music that played above her.

“Christmas is such a wonderful time!” Tony shouted from behind the tree, he continued to dance around until Steve came downstairs, not looking at Tony or Nat, but going straight to the coffee, as Steve was getting his morning coffee, you could feel the floor shake.

Natasha, Steve and Tony all looked up to the ceiling. “Thor’s awake” Nat said as Steve sat down. “Or is it Bruce? Thor and him had a sparing match last night” Steve commented sipping and making a gross face at the contents in his cup. “Really? Chocolate coffee Tony?” Tony scoffs. “Why the night before Christmas? Jarvis! Wake them up” “I am awake Stark” Thor dropped his hammer next to the table, walking over to the coffee maker. “So…” Steve set his coffee down on the coffee table in front of him. all that’s left is…”

Hulk roars up stairs, but the screams fade away.

“Bruce” Nat finishes Steve’s sentence. “Exactly!” Tony exclaimed, turning his head towards the stairs where he saw Bruce make his appearance.

Bruce came down the stairs holding onto the railing looking rather dazed and confused.

His confused face became more concerned as he realized it was Christmas morning. “Oh man, I didn’t ruin Christmas did I?” “No it wouldn’t be an Avengers Christmas without a few mishaps, get some coffee Bruce” Natasha gave him a warm smile. “Thanks” Bruce smiled, he finally had a home where no one judged him and everyone loved and cared about him. “So where should we start?” Tony pulled the first gift from underneath the tree.

As Tony said that the phone rang, looking at his caller ID, Clint popped up on his phone, Tony enlarged it so everyone could see him.  

“Clint, hey how are you?“ Tony greeted him, sitting back by the couch, leg stretched out while the other was bent up by his chest. "Hey, we all just woke up and wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas” Clint’s kids gathered around the computer Clint was at and waved, Laura came up behind them and waved to the team. “Yeah you too Clint, we miss you!” Natasha told him before Tony could say something dumb. “Hey well listen, go enjoy your Christmas and we’ll see you when you get home" Instead of saying something dumb Tony was short and sweet for once. "Bye guys” “Bye” Clint waved goodbye and the phone call ended.

The Christmas music began to play again and everyone groaned, Natasha had her head cover with the blanket again.

“Do we have to listen to this awful noise all day?” Thor asked. “Yes, it’s Christmas!” Tony was angry no one was in the holiday spirit. “The least you could do is turn it down, I have a headache” Bruce had his head in his hands rubbing his eyes. “Um whose fault is it that they hulked out?” Tony snarked back at Bruce, pointing to him. Bruce groaned in frustration. “Thor” Thor’s laugh rumbled through out the compound. “Hey, I was in the mood for some sparring, none of you can take me, so I asked Banner" “No, no” Bruce nervously laughed, he pointed to Thor. “You taunted Hulk out” “Well Banner said no, so I asked Hulk” Thor leaned back on the couch with a giant mug of some kind of ale. “Can we stop bickering and open some presents?” Tony threw some of his gifts to the rest of the group.  “Yes, go for it" Tony gave out his gifts first which was all suit upgrades, Thor gave them all Asgardian weapons, Natasha gave them all baked goods, Steve gave them tickets to a baseball game and Bruce gave them all time travel devices which were emergency only tools."Nat I didn’t know you could bake” Bruce stuffed his face with a big chocolate chip cookie. “I can cook too” Natasha tooted her own horn. “Is that who makes all the delicious food?” Thor’s interest peaked once he learned Natasha could cooked. Nat gave a soft smile. “Sometimes” “You need to come to Asgard and cook for me” Thor’s smile beamed in hopes that she would come to Asgard. Natasha shook her head as quick as she could. “I don’t think…” “Oh come on! It could be fun!” Thor slapped Nat on the arm. “No one is going anywhere” Nick Fury came down the stairs of the base. “Director Fury” Steve stood up to greet Nick. “Sorry to ruin everyone’s Christmas, but word has gotten out that Hydra has gotten a hold of Loki’s scepter” “Where’s it being held?” Tony asked popping up new feeds on the Scepter. Nick did a head count of the team, missing one. “In Sokovia, you will need to fly immediately where is Barton?”  “At home with his family because it’s Christmas, we aren’t going anywhere today, call tomorrow we’ll be ready” Tony crossing his arms and standing his ground. “Fine, be at base tomorrow” Nick leaves the headquarters. Tony scuffed, throwing his hands against his thighs. “We don’t even get Christmas off, what a rip off” “Were Avengers, we don’t get days off, didn’t you read what you signed up for?” Steve interjected, going into the kitchen for more coffee, but stopped realizing it was the gross chocolate coffee. “Were soldiers to them, nothing more” Thor told them. “This is how it was on Asgard, I was to be king, but kings still fight wars” “Fine, but dinner first” Tony crosses his arms and nodded his head to finalize his statement.

[woolishlygrim]

Winter Weebwatch #2

Alright, Week 2, second episodes, which we are getting to a lot quicker than we got the Week 1 episodes, hence why this post is going out, like, three days after the last one. Hey, maybe by the time we hit Week 3, we’ll be current! That’d be nice. 

Several third episodes have already aired, and In/Spectre always seems to be subbed a little late, so we might skip over it for Week 3 and come back for it in Week 4.

Same seven shows as last week, those being Darwin’s Game, Plunderer, ID: Invaded, Pet, In/Spectre, Sorcerous Stabber Orphen and Infinite Dendrogram. Nothing has been dropped or picked up yet, but the season’s still young.

Darwin’s Game

★☆☆☆☆

Haha, this time I’m reviewing the episode immediately after watching! My memory won’t pull the rug out from under me this time!

So, Darwin’s Game episode two sees … um … sees the guy … whose name begins with a K I think … doing something. Um. Oh! There’s a treasure hunt game with murdery elements on, but … but wait, that happens at the end of the episode? So what happens before that? I think there’s a guy who’s like a boxer with superspeed, and he steals the protagonist’s phone, maybe? But I don’t remember why. I …

God, this show is difficult to review. I swear I just finished watching it, but literally none of it has stuck. It just doesn’t take up any space in my memory, it’s like when you wake up from a dream and you remember it for like six seconds before it starts getting jumbled and confused.

One star again, I guess, because I can’t properly review something that I don’t even have a clear recollection of.

Plunderer

★☆☆☆☆

Fresh off what might well be the worst first episode of the season, Plunderer proceeds to demonstrate that it could have won me over easily if it hadn’t decided to devote the first twenty minutes of the series to making me hate it.

So, episode two kicks off with a fight scene between the protagonist, Licht, and Skeezy Military Guy, and it’s honestly pretty fun, as is the sequence just afterwards where Licht pretends to be an amoral thief as part of a convoluted gambit to keep the deuteragonist, Hina, from being arrested for possession of an illegal Ballot. There’s even a kind of emotional arc in this episode, of sorts. If I hadn’t seen the first episode, I probably would’ve given this one three stars.

Except I did see the first episode, and the consequences of that still apply. I can’t really ever sympathise with Licht or even enjoy seeing him on screen because the very first thing we ever saw of his character was him committing sexual harassment. Despite what my reviews of Darwin’s Game might suggest, I have a memory longer than that of a goldfish, so no matter what kind of emotional moments or ‘Aw, see, he really is a good person!’ moments the show throws out, it’s not going to matter, because his introduction already soured me to him and, to be honest, to the show entirely.

Anyway, the episode ends with some random background extra revealing that he’s actually a major villain, and I guess Hina is going to track down Licht to warn him or something, and I’ve just emotionally checked out at this point.

Pet.

★★★☆☆

Pet wins the coveted Most Improved prize this week, as its second episode retells the events of the first episode, but from the perspective of the psychic criminals. This is kind of a great move, as it shows us how these powers work, sets up rules and limitations, clues us into the character dynamic between psychic crime boyfriends Hiroki and Tsukasa, and their boss, the tyrannical and short-tempered but noticeably less powerful Katsuragi.

With this new perspective, events from the first episode are recontextualised, as we see how Hiroki and Tsukasa alter their victim’s memory, and also see how Hiroki is toying with Katsuragi (most noticeably, by making him believe he’s smoking when his cigarette is unlit), and the tension that arises from Katsuragi’s ostensible superior position juxtaposed against Hiroki’s vastly more powerful psychic abilities, setting us up for a future conflict down the line.

We also get to see Hiroki and Tsukasa’s co-dependent relationship, with Tsukasa relying on Hiroki in their work, while Hiroki is emotionally too tangled up in Tsukasa to function without him. That’s actually genuinely interested, and it’s compared and contrasted with the victim’s relationship with his best friend/possible boyfriend -- a relationship that Hiroki and Tsukasa are, by changing his memories, destroying.

The animation is still pretty bad, but it makes up for that somewhat with some stylistic flair and some interesting aesthetic choices.

Infinite Dendrogram.

★★☆☆☆

Infinite Dendrogram picks up this week with Ray and his new person-weapon Nemesis attempting to level up. After learning about a war between the NPC nations of Altar and Dryfe that ended with Altar’s defeat, Ray’s first attempt to level up sees him making both a new friend in the form of another player named Rook, and a new enemy, in the form of a mystery gunman who shoots him down for no readily apparent reason.

I really wanted to give this episode three stars, I wavered back and forth on it for quite a while, since this is still a really enjoyable episode, but ultimately I had to scrape off a point for two reasons: The first was the inclusion of some really jarring and irritating fanservice in the form of the antics of Rook’s Embryo, Babylon, which just threw me out of the episode and grated on me. The second is the scene where Ray’s brother Kuma informs him that the war between Altar and Dryfe was lost largely because when Altar’s NPC king (and remember, NPCs are sapient in this game apparently) said he would not be giving out loot rewards to players who assisted in the war, players just outright refused to help.

Which is kind of … wow. Thousands or maybe hundred of thousands of sapient AIs perished because players, who were at no risk of serious injury or permanent in-game death, refused to help out unless they got ultimately meaningless in-game rewards for doing so. It wouldn’t even as if they would be killing other sapient NPCs, since it’s clarified that Dryfe uses non-sapient robot soldiers. To make this a more bizarre turn that frames the entire playerbase of this game as sociopaths, apparently a bunch of players did fight for Dryfe, which offered rewards to them for doing so, and those players actually did murder a bunch of sapient NPCs.

I’ve elected to be fairly forgiving with the absurdity of this show’s premise, but that one worldbuilding detail kind of pushes it into the red for now.

Sorcerous Stabber Orphen.

★★☆☆☆

Not a whole lot happens in episode two.

Actually, nearly nothing happens in episode two. There’s a very brief explanation of the magic system, and a short sequence that sets up the next few episodes, as Orphen is blackmailed by his sorcerous former friends to assist them in hunting down his sister Azalie, and apart from that it’s alllllllllllll flashbacks.

The flashbacks don’t really communicate anything that couldn’t have been communicated in other ways, though. I mean, in general I really don’t like flashbacks, given that they bring a story to a grinding halt, but these flashbacks are just sort of pointless. We see that Orphen was a student at the Tower of Fang, which we knew, and we meet a few of his friends, which we meet again just afterwards so it’s kind of pointless, and we get some explanation of how the Sword of Baldanders, the weapon that turned Azalie into a dragon, got to the town that Orphen is currently in -- only for us to be told the same thing in exposition a second later.

The pacing of this show is just not … great. After two episodes, it feels like there’s been maybe one or one and a half episodes of content, and I know that doesn’t sound like it’d drag too much, but I have the attention span of a horsefly, so.

ID: Invaded.

★★★★☆

Continuing on from last week’s episodes, ID: Invaded -- now on its third episode, since again, it aired two episodes at once in its first week -- picks up with a new case, that of a bomber who mixes fireworks into his explosives, creating brightly coloured displays as he murders people. Diving into his mental world, Sakaido finds himself on a tower surrounded by a waterfall with dozens of people, as a sniper picks them all off. As he attempts to find clues, his progress is hindered by constantly dying, causing him to reset his memory and start over each time.

This is kind of an opposite situation to Infinite Dendrogram, where this would have been a solid three star episode, being entertaining, engaging, occasionally even thought-provoking and atmospheric (such as in the scene where Sakaido is thinking back to the aftermath of his daughter’s death, pointing out as he remembers it that his recollection of it, in which his daughter is able to talk to him before she dies, the body is recognisable, and the mortician praises her bravery, is incorrect), if not for a few small things.

In this case, it’s the final scene that pushes it up to being a four star episode. With the bomber in custody and in the cell opposite Sakaido’s, a solid four or five minutes are devoted to a harrowing sequence where Sakaido uses what he learned in the bomber’s mind to talk him into committing suicide. It’s an atmospheric, tense, and remarkably upsetting scene, made all the moreso by the voice actors’ excellent performances.

In unrelated news, for those keeping count, the surrealist director Ei Aoki references this time around is Koichi Mashimo, director of the impressively surreal and atmospheric .hack and Tsubasa Chronicle animes.

In/Spectre.

★★★☆☆

So, after a first episode that was kind of all over the place, the second episode actually settles into something like a single genre, establishing itself as a light-hearted supernatural mystery with some romance elements. Which is fine, and it does it well, and I’m happy to not constantly be getting genre whiplash anymore.

This week’s episode sees Kotoko summoned up to the mountains by a snake spirit who wishes to know why a murderer tipped the body of her victim into the snake’s swamp. The main bulk of the episode is taken up by Kotoko and the snake’s interactions, with Kotoko acting as prosecutor and presenting plausible theories as to why the killer did what they did, and the snake picking holes in those theories and shooting them down.

It actually kind of works, to be honest. As Kotoko explains her theories, we’re shown them happening on screen, and since the snake points out some pretty reasonable flaws in them, it feels like a nice, even back-and-forth debate, as the two make point and counterpoint. Written well, debates like that can be really compelling viewing, and this episode actually is written really well.

There’s also some nice character development moments early on, with Kuro turning down Kotoko’s offer of accompanying her to visit the snake, only to insist she take a thermos of soup and a jacket with her, and later wandering up to meet up with her anyway. Mamoru Miyano doesn’t have the easiest job here, playing someone who is meant to have extremely flat affect and yet still make them interesting to listen to, but he pulls it off pretty well.

[spacecanary]

Runaways Part One

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: knife fight scars, some cussing, (possible) IW spoilers, 

Request: Anon- heyy, i really love your writing and i was wondering if you can do a peter x stark!read imagine that they are like wanda and vision hiding on a beautiful city (just like in the movie) and something like the bedroom or the street scene of infinity war. i hope it's not so confusing.

A/N: I really actually fell in love with this request. It was so much fun to write. If you guys want, there can be multiple parts. I’m kinda feeling a series like this. (Basically to make up for this part being kinda trash) And I am so sorry that this took so long! the next requests I will have out within the next week or so. 

————————-

Anywho, let me know if you want on a tag list!

(y/m/n) - your middle name

(r/h/c) - random hair color, hair color of your choice.

————————-

We fall back, pulling the sheets around our bodies. 

“I love you, (Y/n),” He breathes, kissing the top of my head. 

“I love you too,” I mumble into his chest.

Slowly, I let the blissful sleep take me.

“Peter...” I mumble into the sheets. I reach for him, but I come up empty. My eyes open slightly, the dimly lit room greeting me. 

“I’m over here (Y/n),” He responds, his voice full of exhaustion. Slowly, I pull the sheets around my bare body and swing my legs over the side of the bed. A groan escapes my lips as I stretch out my limbs. I look over at him. His form leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he gazes out the window in a white t-shirt and sweats. With a sigh, I push myself off the bed, slowly shuffling into the bathroom.

With a flick of a switch, my reflection is illuminated. I sigh, barely even recognizing myself. Two years. Two years we’ve been running. I couldn’t stay at the base anymore. It was too much. Peter... Peter ran with me. But in order to hide, we had to change. Our aliases were the first thing. Peter going by Benjamin, and myself, using the name (y/m/n). Then came our looks. New hair, a darker brown for Peter, and an (r/h/c) for me. And new styles for both of us, changing periodically, of course. 

The fight was over. My father and Steve were off somewhere... nobody knew where. I didn’t know what would happen... siding with Steve. My dad was disappointed, of course, but he made it very clear that I can choose whatever I feel. So I did. I just didn’t realize it made us fugitives. 

Everybody split up after the battle, not really knowing what to do or where to go. Natasha ended up taking me, the teenager, back to the base before the soldiers could arrive. 

“Hey, Nat?” I ask from the passenger seat of some person’s car.

“Hmmm?”

“What do I do now? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in that... place...” I trail off. 

“You won’t.” She says simply.

“Wait. What?”

“The moment you sided with Steve, Tony and I worked out a plan for you to run away.” She says slowly, gauging my reactions. “Your father was never going to let them lock you up. So... we talked about it, and decided on Ireland.”

“I-Ireland?” I mumble, my eyes wide. 

“The outskirts of Dublin, to be exact. Tony set you up with a bank account so that you’d be well taken care of, and I set up your passport and ID along with the documents.” She explains as we pull into the ‘driveway’ that leads to the base.

“But... I can’t just leave... what about my Dad? Or Peter? What about them?” I mumble confusedly. Nat sighs, turning and giving me a sad smile. 

“It’s not forever, (Y/n). Only until everything calms down. Maybe two or three years.”

The whole situation has been hard on the both of us. We barely sleep anymore, nor do we eat as much as we should. I stare at my form, my eyes sunken in and cheekbones growing more visible.

Sick. I look sick.

I dismiss it, dropping the sheet before pulling my duffle bag onto the countertop. My hands dig through the contents, eventually retrieving a gray tank-top and some dark denim jeans. I slowly pull the material on, my muscles aching. I take one last look before I walk out, crossing the wooden floor. My arms snake around Peter’s waist as I rest my chin on his shoulder. I feel him sigh against me. 

“It’s raining,” I mumble. He hums in reply, turning around to face me. 

“It rains every morning, (y/n),” Peter’s eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I notice how exhausted he looks. His under eyes darkened, hair grown out. But it’s not just his looks. “and every morning you say that. Every morning.” his voice gravelly, accompanying a soft smile. 

He presses a kiss to my forehead before making his way to the bed. Peter pulls out a large duffle bag from underneath. He unzips it, retrieving a pair of jeans and a navy button down. Peter hesitates, placing the clothes beside him. 

“What do we have going on today?” He looks at me from the bed.

I fold my arms over my chest, leaning against the wall. 

“Well, I have a hair appointment in the afternoon. The dye’s growing out. And I suppose I ought to get some food for the week, and some other things. I’ll pick you up another box of dye since yours has grown out a bit as well,” I gesture to his fading dark chocolate hair. “What do you have?”

“I have to pick up parts to fix the micro camera in the door, so I’ll be working on that. But... there’s this place down the street from here that I've heard a lot of people talking about. So, I figured I could take you out... like-”

“Like old times.” I finish, a smile growing on my face. 

“We just need to make sure nobody tails us...” He sighs, standing up. Peter pulls his shirt over his head, revealing two jagged scars on his left shoulder. I shake my head at the cause. 

Peter had protected this woman from getting harassed by this guy in the alley next to our hotel. The guy followed Peter to our room, waiting for one of us to open the door. He got in when the two of us were leaving to grab groceries. The man grabbed me. As I fought him off, Peter tackled him. Suddenly, a burning sensation swept my abdomen. My hand flew to the site as I examined it. Peter yelped not much later. He delivered a final punch, knocking the man out. Blood started seeping through a rip in his sweater. He stood up, kicking the blade away. See, neither of us knew he had a knife. I looked down at my abdomen. The cut wasn’t deep, and could easily be stitched up without hospitalization. Peter had two slice wounds on his left shoulder, also easily stitched up. We ended up taking the knife and treating the wounds before calling security saying that a man had just tried to rob us rather than attack us. They took him away, getting a brief report from us and that was that.

“What’re we doing, Peter? We’re nineteen. This isn’t what nineteen-year-olds are supposed to be doing,” I start as he takes his sweats off, replacing them with his jeans. “We’re supposed to be getting ready for college, partying, enjoying life...” I chuckle.  Peter finishes buttoning his shirt, looking at me sadly.

“They were going to arrest you, put you in that horrible containment facility. You had no choice, (y/n).” Peter tries to reassure me as he pulls on his boots. 

“But you did.” I keep my arms crossed.

“What?” Peter’s voice goes higher.

“You had a choice. You didn’t have to follow me. You didn’t have to give up your dream,” I sigh. Peter wanted to go to MIT so badly. He had everything planned out.

“You are my dream, (y/n). You’re the one that always told me to follow my dreams, so I followed you.” 

By now he’s in front of me, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” I say softly, gazing into his tired eyes.

“But we are, and we’re here together. That’s all that matters,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to my forehead before walking across the room to the sofa. I retrieve my shoes from by the desk, plopping myself down on the edge of the mattress, slipping them on.

“Okay,” he starts, sliding on a black coat. “well I am going to go get the replacement parts and do my thing. I’ll meet you back here and then we’ll go to the restaurant... deal?” 

“Deal,” I reply, looking up at him.

“See you soon, (y/n).” Peter opens the door, walking into the hallway of the hotel.

I quickly stand and hold the door. “Hey Pete,” I call to the teen walking away from me. He pivots on one foot to look at me, hands in his pockets. “be careful, okay?” 

Peter flashes a classic grin. “I will... don’t worry.” 

And with that, I retreat back into the room. I pull a cream-colored sweater over my head, pairing it with a knit beanie. Grabbing my bag and room key, I walk out the door.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Once I’m in the elevator, I grab it. The screen illuminated and Peters name pops up.

Peter Parker - I love you beautiful

(Y/n) - I love you too.