#Yeah technology is very fragile now.

[ghostofskywalker]

Your writing is amazing thanks so much for sharing!

For the winter ficlets how about “Never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.” With a gender neutral reader and Kix?

No pressure though thank you!

this was so fun, thank you for the prompt!!

words: 1,035

summary: Kix startles you awake in the medbay by accident. He just wants to make sure you get the rest you need.

Long Hours Make For Tired Jedi Healers

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet!

As Kix stepped into the Resolute’s medbay for his shift, he stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on you. Your overall presence in the space wasn’t a surprise, as he had known that you were here on the ship, but he had never seen a Jedi sleep before, and especially not the one that he had a little crush on.

For someone that fought tooth and nail to ensure that all clone medics had all the tools they could ever need on their flagships and that there was a mandatory cap on how many hours someone could work in a row without at least a sixteen hour break, you were terrible at following your own advice. The amount of time you had spent in this very chair was completely unknown to him, and he knew that it was probably way longer than you were going to admit.

The three patients in the medbay that you were technically watching over were also fast asleep, and Kix was grateful that life had slowed down a little for now. Of course the galaxy was still at war, and would be for the foreseeable future, but he still liked to take advantage of the times when his stress levels began to come down.

It was no shock that you had fallen asleep, especially with how your life was going at this point in time. Because you had some healing experience under your belt by the time the war broke out, you spent most of your time bouncing between battalions rather than working with a consistent group of soldiers, helping overworked medics in any way you could. Kix was always incredibly grateful for the time he spent with you, and not only because you were an incredible healer. He knew that developing feelings for a Jedi was never going to end in anything but heartbreak, but he could never help it with you.

Torn between wanting to let you sleep and also thinking that you would benefit the most from this nap if it took place in a bed rather than a chair, he took a few steps towards you, intending to wake you in the gentlest way he possibly could, but those plans were shattered when he accidently tripped over his own feet, only catching himself by throwing his arms out to grab onto the desk (that you were resting your head on).

Your head shot up instantly, and a somewhat crazed look took over your features as you grabbed the first thing you could find in order to use it as a weapon.

You were probably going for your lightsaber, but it just so happened that your datapad was actually the closest item. The image Kix saw was nothing but comical, especially given the fact that GAR-issued technology was incredibly fragile and wouldn’t at all make for an effective weapon. “Kix!” you said as you took in the situation, your face shifting as embarrassment took over your features. “I’m so sorry, you just startled me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a smile. “But I will say, I’ve never heard of that being used as a murder weapon before.”

A soft scoff left your mouth as you shook your head, the absurdity of the situation finally clicking in your mind. “Yeah, I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when I grabbed it.”

“I’m sorry for waking you like that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to throw myself against the table.”

“It seems we’re both a little bit of a mess today,” you laughed. “I won’t hold it against you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” he said, a smile growing on his face (as one always did when he spoke to you). “You should go get some rest.”

To others, those words might have seemed like he was trying to push you out of the room, but he never meant it that way. Wanting to make sure the people he cared about took care of themselves was so ingrained in Kix’s personality that he barely noticed when the instinct took over, and you were absolutely one of those people (and not only because he knew that you rarely put your own needs before anyone else’s).

And as he suspected, you weren’t about to start doing that now. “No, I’m fine,” you said. “I should be around to help if you need me.” He raised his eyebrows at you, and he must have succeeded in getting across some of his emotions, because you spoke again, this time with a slight defensive tone to your voice. “What if something happens?”

“We are in so far away from any planet that I think you can get some rest for a few hours,” Kix said. “You know I’m a fully trained medic, right?”

Your eyes widened as you took in his implication. “I’m not suggesting- I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t mean it like that, I promise,” he laughed, cutting off your frantic words. “But I can tell that you’re tired, so you need to get some rest.”

Something about his tone (or maybe it was his expression) must have clicked in your mind, because you just nodded before beginning to gather your things from the desk. “You can comm me if you need anything, and I’ll be here-”

“I will let you know if there is some kind of emergency,” he said, even though he doubted it would ever happen. “Now please, can you go and get some rest? For me?”

You walked over and wrapped your arms around him for a moment, and Kix relished in the feeling of your closeness (even if it was over way quicker than he wanted it to be). “I will,” you said softly. “But-”

He just looked at you, clearly pretending to be annoyed .“Go!”

You echoed his teasing tone. “Fine!”

Soon Kix was once again the only waking person in the medbay, and he faced a long shift ahead of him, but he didn’t really mind being alone for a little while. He certainly didn’t want to admit how much your short hug had affected him, and he just hoped that you were truly getting the rest you so desperately needed. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[that-needy-tboy]

HARRY VANDERSPEIGLE X (ALIEN) READER

Tags; really fucking long idk how much but this is a long fic, alien reader, gender neutral reader, kinda enemies to lovers -ish, probably a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes sorry

Living with humans is hard.

There were countless things I hadn’t considered when I took on this mission — like how everything feels just a little too heavy, or how the air, despite being breathable, tasted like damp leaves.

"I hate that getting to blend in means actually talking to humans." I groan, stepping out of my ship. Thankfully I could disguise my ship as a house so humans wouldn't think anything of it. Nobody's noticed the extra house on the road... yet.

---

"I think you’d be a great fit at the clinic," The nurse, who I think is named Asta, had told me. Her eyes were wide and she smiled. It made me smile. It was infectious. Though, I hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet. "We could always use the help."

"Great, thank you," Speaking in their language was a bit of a chore. "When do I start?"

"You'll probably start tomorrow! You can come get used to everyone now though, if you'd like." This human is very pretty.

When she made me follow her around, I noticed something about one of them. The doctor, Harry Vanderspeigle. I could feel that he, too, was not from Earth. It was made obvious when he caught me staring for a little too long. Though, I played it off and kept going.

And so, I found myself working as a nurse at Patience’s health clinic — an unfortunate fate for me, but I'd have to deal with it. I’d healed with advanced technology this whole time, but here, I had to rely on rudimentary tools and basic knowledge. Not to mention the patients. They're so fragile. They always get sick with things that my people would never.

Still, I couldn’t help but find some sense of peace in the routine. Maybe it was the structure that I liked—the way human life was divided into neat little segments of time, schedules were always fun... Or maybe it was just that I was trying to distract myself from the one person who constantly invaded my space.

*I’d run into him a few times since the crash—Harry, the town doctor and fellow alien trying to blend in. He was just like me, though he was just really bad at acting human. It was obvious from the moment I saw him, even though I could recognize him from the energy signature.

The worst part was every time we crossed paths. Nothing was wrong, I just wanted him to leave me alone. He couldn’t stand my presence, and honestly, I didn’t care much for his either.

"You’re still here?" His voice cut through my thoughts one afternoon as I stood behind the clinic’s reception desk. Of course.

I glanced up to find him standing there, his usual deadpan expression glued to his face. It seemed like every time we saw each other, he had something smug to say. And it didn't help that he felt so high and mighty in his doctor's coat. He thought he was the smartest thing in the room all the time.

"What, did you think I’d leave the planet just to avoid you?" I shot back, rolling my eyes. Unfortunately, I couldn't even do that.

He frowned, almost like a scowl. Though, I could tell by the way his eyes flicked over me that he was still trying to figure me out. We both knew what we were. That's probably part of the reasons we butt heads. Our people were never friendly to each other.

Working at the clinic wasn’t exactly what I had planned when I arrived either, but it served a purpose. I’d gotten better at mimicking human behavior — smiling when expected, speaking in tones that humans found comforting. It was a lot of work, but it helped me blend in, and after all, that was the goal.

But there were times when my true self slipped through the cracks. Asta had caught me staring a little too long at a medical textbook once, flipping through the pages with confusion. Human anatomy was needlessly simple, and yet somehow, it functioned.

"You okay?" she had asked, probably noticing my frustration."

"Yeah," I’d replied, quickly shutting the book. "Just... learning."

As I said that, I could hear him laugh in the other room. Ugh... It was kind of funny though.

Learning, indeed. Learning to act human, to care about the patients who came in with their endless complaints about things like sore throats or headaches. Learning to care about people who, for all intents and purposes, were entirely idiotic. And, more than anything, learning to navigate whatever the hell was going on between Harry and I. Dear god, I needed to handle it.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized just how much he’d started to invade my thoughts. Hell, it'd been months that this had been happening for. We didn’t get along, that was clear. Every conversation was like a battle where neither of us wanted to give an inch. But there was something else — something I didn't quite recognize.

"You’re not as good at acting human as you think you are," he had said to me once, his voice sharp as though it were some sort of challenge. His tone was so easy to identify.

"If I'm not, then your acting skills are in the Earth's core." I retorted. and I could’ve sworn I saw something click — just for a second. Good. I hope I'm getting under his skin.

That was the thing about Harry. He was just as alien as I was. But, we kept butting heads either way Maybe it was because we were too alike. Either way, I hated his guts. And yet, I couldn't stay away.

Working at the clinic was easy enough, dealing with stupid humans all day every day wasn't exactly calming, though. It didn’t help that the other alien here was constantly pushing my buttons.

Harry. Dr. Harry Vanderspeigle, or whatever he calls himself. He was annoying.

I can't help but hate his annoying voice, his stupid smile, his idiotic motherfucking hair. He's so stupid. He always thinks he's the smartest guy ever. He's so stupid.

I couldn't help but scowl at him through the window in the breakroom. I was, of course, stealing his yogurts. He didn't put his name on it, so obviously he wouldn't mind if I ate it. Heh.

He walked into the breakroom after I finished the yogurt. God, he was irritating.

"You’re late," he spoke up, barely looking up from the fridge. His voice was flat, as usual, with that odd hint of superiority he carried everywhere. He's really bad at this whole human thing.

I rolled my eyes. "And you’re still insufferable. Guess we’re both predictable."

He blinked, staring at me for a minute too long. Uncomfortable. His deadpan expression barely shifted, but there was something... Oh, nevermind.

"You know," he started after a pause, "humans tend to greet each other with something called ‘basic courtesy.’ You should try it, you little shit."

His existence near me was so painful, in an insufferable way. The way he smiled after thinking he's won the argument was so tiresome. He always did this, as if trying to provoke me, but I could never quite tell why. Probably because he knows I'm better. Heh.

"Right. Because you’re the expert on human interactions," I looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, furrowing my brow.

He didn’t respond, just gave me that blank, unreadable look he usually wore. It was infuriating.

... Then, Asta came through the door before we could say anything else. Her energy broke the tense silence like a gust of fresh air.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, flashing one of her warm smiles as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Me and D'arcy are grabbing drinks at The 59 tonight. You should both come."

Harry blinked, looking a bit confused. He glanced at me, then back at her. "No."

Asta raised an eyebrow, not missing a single beat. "Yeah, well, you're coming. And I could use a break, too. What do you say?"

Harry just went silent. Probably unable to fight Asta's commanding tone. I shrugged before he could reply. "Sure. Sounds like a good time." Now he was obligated. I bet he's annoyed as hell.

Asta’s smile widened, "No excuses!" She gave Harry a nudge on the shoulder before she headed out to start the day.

He just sighed. He seemed almost irritated. Good.

Later that night, the dim lights of the 59 flickered and hummed in a way that almost reminded me of the stars back home. People packed the bar, filling it with loud, buzzing conversations and bursts of laughter that grated against my nerves. Harry seemed to hate it, though. So, it was incredibly worth it.

Harry, of course, sat next to me, since Asta stuck us at a table with only 3 chairs. He stared at his glass like it was some kind of thing to study. For all his arrogance and blunt remarks, he was just... awkward. Weirdly, it was almost endearing.

"So," I began, taking a sip of my own drink. "Enjoying yourself yet?"

Harry looked up at me from his glass, his lips pressed into a thin line. "No. Idiot."

I couldn’t help but snicker. "Figures. Douchebag."

We continued like that, in yet another verbal battle, the alcohol making the environment feel almost... playful. At some point, Asta had wandered off to talk to D'arcy and Judy, leaving just the two of us at the table.

"That jacket..." Harry suddenly said, his voice close to a whisper. It was clear he was drunk out of his mind. "It’s..."

I blinked, trying to focus. "What about it?"

He shifted in his seat, his expression sporting a small smile. "It suits you."

For a second, I thought I'd misheard him. That had to be the first nice thing I’d ever heard from him; and coming from Harry? Well, it was weird, to say the least.

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, leaning in a bit closer, resting my head on one of my hands. “Thanks. That’s... I don't know how to feel about that."

He looked away, probably regretting his remark, but I noticed the faintest flush in his cheeks. Cute.

Something about that moment felt all weird — the tension was... Different. It was charged, but not in a way that made me want to make him angry.

Before I could stop myself, I brought myself a little closer over the table. This whiskey was definitely allowing me to make rational decisions tonight. "What’s with you tonight? You’re... almost tolerable."

His eyes snapped back to mine, and for once, he didn’t have a snappy comeback. Instead, something about the look he gave me. It was almost captivating. That stupid, dumbass look he gave me. I could feel it in the air between us — the tension was definitely a different kind.

And then, before I knew it, my lips met his.

The kiss wasn’t planned, not thought out. It just... happened. His lips were cold, and for a second, I thought he’d pull away. Of course he would, right?

But he didn’t. He kissed me back, hesitantly at first, which is what made me think he'd pull away. But then I felt his hand on my arm. He was holding onto me for dear life. Pathetic — in a good way.

When it ended after what felt like an eternity but was likely just a few seconds, I had to catch my breath, my head spinning for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol this time. God, I needed to get the hell out of here — he's starting to look not as stupid.

He muttered something I couldn't quite hear, and I was too distracted to ask.

"Yeah," I started, forgetting what I was about to say. "I'm just going to leave." And with that, I headed back home.

---

The next morning I woke up on my couch... The memory of the kiss came crashing back with perfect clarity, unfortunately. I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. Of course, I remembered every second of it.

I sure hoped he didn't. If he does, this is going to be... *awkward*.

[howtofightwrite]

Greek fire was an extraordinary specific weapon found in a particular time and region, naval combat was primarily an afar of rams (in the medaterriaan with its oar powered vessels) and armed roaring ie: getting as close as possible and just swarming onto your opponents boat to fight in melee, with some archery and whatnot. One of the sucesses of the eventual roman navy was perfecting a sort of boarding ramp to quickly put their troops on an enemy ship

Furthermore, in later periods, there are accounts of skirmishes in the atlantic between rival fleets. In which case the fore and aftcastles on the cogs are used as platforms to post archers and men throwing rocks and iron bars down on opponents ships while others boarded (hence why their called castles and elevated). Theres at least one account (I forgot of which battle) in which an English king boarded an enemy ship then abandoned his own as it sunk.

So, free advice, if you want to remain anonymous, you probably should make sure that both asks go through as anon. Though, I'm pretty sure Tumblr's extended ask length would have let you drop both paragraphs into it. Worst case (and I do realize I'm a poster child for looking like I ignore this advice), but when you run into a word (or character) limit, it's usually a good idea to start editing and trimming down the length until the system accepts it in a single pass. Splitting an ask into multiple parts is an excellent way to lose part of a question, or just make sure it never gets answered in the first place. Cut everything you don't absolutely need.

Either way, I'll err on the side of caution and answer the anon response to preserve your privacy.

I thought I made it clear that Greek fire was a much later invention. It's actually a little frustrating, because you'll see poorly researched history articles which will straight up make it sound like Greek fire was used during the Peloponnesian War. Which, yeah, no. A lot of the major Hellenic wars we think of today were around the 5th century BCE, while the invention of Greek Fire was over a thousand years later.

While you were talking about Greek fire in particular, what you said applies to a lotof weapons throughout history. When we're talking about something like the rapier or the claymore, those are weapons from very specific points in time. It's something to think about when you're mixing and matching technologies to create a fantasy world. No weapon exists in a vacuum, and they all develop as responses to the state of warfare around them. This doesn't mean you can't mix and match pieces you like, but it is something to be conscious of.

While it is outside the scope of the original question (because it's a firearm), one of the more amusing weapons from the age of sail were actual gun blades. These would be musket (usually a pistol), with a cutlass blade mounted under the barrel. (There were also examples that mounted an axe head under the barrel.) The intention was to be able to use the firearm during boarding actions and then switch over to using it as a melee weapon rather than reloading. The design was fundamentally flawed, the weight distribution was poor for a blade, and the (relative) mechanical complexity of the early firearms meant those components were too fragile for serious use. But for a couple decades in the 17th century these things saw limited use.

Now, I do need to give serious credit to A Number of Hobbies, who came back with a trio of fantastic reference articles. Naval Combat Strategies from Shadyislepirates.com, Choosing Naval Tactics for Your Pre-Gunpowder World from Mythcreants.com, and The First Punic War: Audacity and Hubris from the U.S. Naval Institute. So, if you're still wanting more information, those are all excellent resources to check.

-Starke

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[edosianorchids901]

Plausible Deniability

For @book-omens-week Day 5: human connections

“What are you doing here?”

“Hmm?” Crowley looked up from his latest acquisition. Aziraphale stood in the doorway, wearing a vaguely accusing expression. “Oh, hi. I’m buying a painting. Well, not actually a painting. Cartoon.”

He held up the drawing. Aziraphale studied it for a moment, then glanced to the very unconscious human slumped forward across the table. “You look as though you’re outdrinking Leonardo da Vinci.”

“I mean yeah, there is that. That too, anyway.” Crowley grinned. “Humans, eh? Can’t keep up with supernatural entities very well. They’re kinda fragile.”

“They are, at that. Quite clever though, sometimes.” Aziraphale helped himself to a piece of cheese off Leonardo’s plate. “I presume you’re attempting to corrupt him?”

“Nh, mostly I was just…” Crowley waded through the boggy memory of his last several hours. “I told him about helicopters.”

Aziraphale huffed. “You really ought to stop doing that sort of thing, you dreadful old serpent.” He said the term with so much fondness that Crowley smiled. “Humans get themselves in enough trouble without you talking them into creating technology that they’re really not ready for.”

“Eh, I don’t think they’ll be able to make working ones yet. Besides, he’s already got some sketches of similar thingies.” Crowley gestured vaguely to Leonardo’s journals, some of which sat open on the table. “And anyway, what’re you doing here? I’m pretty sure he’s not the pious type.”

“Not so much, no. But he is fascinating, isn’t he? So innovative.” Aziraphale beamed at the thoroughly unconscious human. “I may have, er, wriggled my way into his good graces so I could get a peek at those notebooks.”

Crowley snorted. “‘Course you did.”

“And I suppose you’re here for entirely non self-serving reason?” Aziraphale asked tartly as he stole another piece of cheese. “Simply to give him ideas?”

“I said, I’m buying a drawing.” Holding the drawing up again for emphasis, Crowley grinned.

That definitely wasn’t the only reason, though. Crowley liked people, even if he didn’t really befriend them, and it was nice to connect with them. No human connections lasted long, of course. Humans had painfully short lives, and sometimes Crowley got melancholy about that.

He pushed any melancholy aside and gestured to the chair beside him. “You could sit down, y’know. Might as well sit if you’re gonna eat all of his food.”

“I’m not eating all of his food!” Aziraphale protested while stacking some sort of little sweet cakes on a plate. “He has plenty of food. And wine.”

“True.” Crowley watched Aziraphale fondly as the angel finished loading up his plate and acquired a jug of wine. “Are you gonna read his journals while he’s asleep?”

“Perish the thought.” Aziraphale cast a longing glance at the journals before pouring wine. “Well, I might just read the open pages, but it would be very rude to go further without permission.”

Crowley smiled, leaning back in his chair as Aziraphale devoured half of Leonardo’s food. “Gosh, you can’t possibly be rude.”

Crowley had also eaten and drank a lot—albeit at Leonardo’s invitation—and it was making him sleepy. He kicked his legs up on the table and closed his eyes, letting himself sink into a near doze. Not quite a full doze, though. His body would be seriously pissed off at him if he slept in this position, and spending the next few days limping around didn’t sound fun.

He apparently dozed a little more than he’d planned, though. He awoke to a gentle tap on his arm. “Crowley? Are you awake?”

“Hmm? Oh. Hi, yeah, awake now.” He shifted into a normal position and rubbed his eyes, bleary. Aziraphale, surrounded by Leonardo’s journals, beamed at him. “Oh wow, you did decide to read those, eh?”

“Er.” Aziraphale gave him a guilty look, then took a healthy swig of wine. “Not at all. Merely, um, looked through them.”

Crowley laughed, couldn’t help it, then stood. “Right, so. Are you done yet?”

“I am.” Aziraphale stood too. “Shall we?”

“Yup.” Crowley eyed the wine, then downed another glass of it before picking up his cartoon. “For plausible deniability,” he explained to Aziraphale, who had been giving him a you’ve had enough to drink look.

“Plausible deniability for what?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley grabbed his hand. “This.”

Aziraphale sputtered slightly, but didn’t argue. A smile crept onto his face, and he let Crowley pull him out of Leonardo’s studio and into the narrow street outside.

Night had fallen solidly now, stars sparkling overhead. The darkness brought cooler temperatures and a gentle breeze, enough that Crowley shivered. This wasn’t the kind of weather that made him feel like basking on a rooftop, unlike the heat of the afternoon.

But Aziraphale’s skin was warm against his, plump hand soft in his grasp. They walked together hand in hand through Florence’s narrow streets under the night sky. Connecting with humans for a bit was fun, sure. But there was nothing like strolling hand-in-hand with Aziraphale, their conversations similarly wandering from topic to topic. It was one of the pleasures of the world, and a pleasure that Crowley enjoyed immensely.

[wutwutno1]

I don't know if you saw the newest episode but:

Since V seems to have warmed up to Uzi, I think it'd be cute if V nommed up Uzi to keep her safe, but explained said safety very poorly because she's hesitant to admit it.

"Wha— What was that?" V watched on in horror as what had once been a control panel vanished into a singular black point surrounded by flesh. The doors were open and those things were going to get in, and she was still stuck. Strapped down to a gurney. Uzi laid back down on her gurney. Getting possessed was tiring, after all, especially for such a small drone.

Beau! Help me with the—" Alice's line was cut off when one of the sentinels flashed her with their boot loop light. Her scream glitched as she froze in place. She fell over and immediately got her head stomped in by a sentinel.

Beau got his laser out of his repurposed disassembly drone hand and tried aiming blind at the sentinel. However, at the last minute swung their laser to help V escape her restraints. They tipped their cowboy hat to V and then got smashed and ripped apart by a sentinel.

V used her free claw to cut the last restraint and crawled on the floor over to Uzi. She leaned up against the gurney, using her claws to try and avoid the sentinel's flashes. She steadied her wires, got out her guns, and pointed them to shoot. But there was nothing. What were once terrifying pieces of anti-drone technology, were now crumbling into dust, alongside the flesh that was once their only defense against the sentinels.

V looked over at Uzi, who was sitting up, but quickly fell back down, unconscious. Her screen was cracked, but it was quickly healing itself. V watched worriedly as the last of the cracks hissed away. She was scared. Uzi had just gotten possessed, and by Cyn no less. But Uzi was still her, well, not friend. Ally? Yeah, ally. Uzi was V's ally and she had to do something to help and protect her.

V scooped up Uzi with her hand, using the other in claw form to cut away her restraints. Sweat dripped down her visor as she picked up the sleeping drone with her hand. She looked so small and fragile. V breathed a deep breath, slowly opened her mouth, and stuck her black tongue out.

V slowly placed Uzi on her tongue and pulled her inside her mouth. Every line of code in her program was screaming at her to bite. To chew on the tiny drone and squeeze every drop of her sweet oil out, but she held firm. V carefully positioned Uzi around in her mouth, maybe taking some time to enjoy the taste of worker on her tongue, but eventually she swallowed. Dragging Uzi down her gullet and into her awaiting belly.

V fell out of a vent and found N and Tessa. They jumped up upon seeing her. "V! You're alive, where's—" N excitedly yelled before being cut off by V, "Safe, but hurt. We're leaving." Tessa stepped forward and stuck her hand out palm up. "I could help her!" V changed her hand to a sword and held it next to Tessa's neck. "You said you could control the sentinels!" "I-I know, but—"

"Come on, N. We're leaving." N hesitantly stepped forward and glanced at Tessa nervously. "It's okay, N. I haven't been honest with V yet." V turned her head and glared at N. "What did she tell you?"

Before N could answer, he was cut off by a high-pitched squeak from V, who immediately blushed and covered her mouth. "Give me a second." V ran out of the room and looked around. She looked around and hid in a cubical.

Inside V's stomach, Uzi had stirred awake. Realizing she was in a stomach, she originally assumed that she was in N's stomach, however upon hearing V's voice, she realized she was in V's stomach instead.

She started struggling. Kicking and squirming and all around trying to escape from what she thought was going to be her tomb. She yelled out, "Help! Somebody help! V ate me! Help!" She felt V's stomach move and bounce as V found her hiding place.

"Quit squirming, squirt!" V placed her hands over her stomach like it was going to help. "L-Let me out! I don't want to be digested by you!" Uzi kept struggling, her entire body ached and she was tired, but she couldn't just give up! Not to V!

"I said quit it! I'm not going to hurt you!" "Liar!" V was starting to get angry and was actually considering just digesting her and getting it over with. "Listen, tiny! If I wanted to digest you, don't you think I would've by now!" Uzi paused for a moment. V was right. If V wanted to digest someone she would have done it, but why has she not with her.

"Okay. I'm listening." Uzi sat back in V's stomach and crossed her arms and legs. V sighed before speaking, "You were hurt, and I just thought, you know..." V was not used to speaking her thought process, especially for kind actions, "Just shut up!"

Uzi smirked and looked up in the direction of V's face. "Whatever, just let me out soon, okay?" "Okay. Whatever. Just shut up and stay still."

V stood up and pat her stomach. It was actually quite nice having a worker in there who wasn't fighting for their life. V looked over to the entrance to the cubical to see Tessa standing there and N peaking around the wall.

"So that's what you meant by "safe." Huh, V?" Tessa said, the smirk audibly heard in her voice. V blushed heavily and her jaw fell to the floor.

"How long were you standing there!"

[bohoburns]

Mark Hoffman x fOC | After Angelina's Wedding, Mark Hoffman and his partner have a celebration of their own ;)

The venue, commonly used to host weddings, was a hotel in the respectable historic district of the city. Thankfully, they hadn’t needed to catch rides back to their apartments. Instead, they had rented rooms that were a simple elevator ride away.

“1403. You?”

“1404.” 

“Guess we’re going in the same direction.”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip, withholding the drunken giggle that threatened to escape. Thankfully, a hiccup masked her sudden moment of vulnerable awkwardness and she led the way to the elevator, trying to push the sudden moody thoughts that began to tickle her. She shivered, until a very warm cloak was draped over her shoulders.

Hoffman had taken his jacket off, his bulk hugged by his shirt. Will avoided looking in his direction while they waited for the elevator to reach their level, eyes glued to the level indicator above the doors. 

They stood in silence, as they often did.

But this time, she struggled to remain cool and collected.

Being drunk didn’t help. Her heels were hurting her feet. She was off balance and this made her feel on edge.

She refused to question why. 

She knew why.

Now that their biggest barrier, Rosello, was gone, all that remained in her keeping a distance was her desperate cling to not risk ruining what they had. Their partnership was intact and functional. They understood each other. They were friends. They had a closeness that she feared intimacy would strip away and make vulnerable. 

It was all so fragile.

“Will.”

“Yeah?”

“The door’s open.”

“Oh.” She walked to the elevator, tripping on the edge of the door.

“Hey!” Hoffman caught her, saving her from face planting. “Easy.”

“Shit,” she cursed and angrily collapsed to the rough carpet of the elevator as the doors slid closed. She began unbuckling and taking off her heels, her toes thanking her for the release. 

“Are you about to get sick on me, kid?”

“Ha!” She looked up at him defiantly. “You know I can hold my liquor.”

“Then why are you on the floor,” he looked down at her, smirking. “You’re acting weird.”

The lines on his face emphasized his cheek bones. His lips looked so kissable at that moment. She shook her head, flustered. “I’m just drunk.”

“I thought you ‘hold your liquor’.”

“I meant I’m not going to puke. But I need to go to sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

The doors finally opened, Hoffman holding his hand out for her to take. She gave him her fingers and he pulled her up with ease.

Grabbing her heels, she walked towards her hotel room, digging in her clutch for her key card. She tapped her card to the door lock, waiting for it to be disengaged. 

A red light indicated it had failed.

She tapped it again.

Still, nothing. 

She tried to open the hotel door, tapping and muttering curses under her breath.

“Problem?”

“Yeah, the key’s not working. Fucking new technology. What was wrong with the standard brass key?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, embarrassed and frustrated. “Great. Now I’m going to have to go back to the lobby.”

“No. We can call down from my room. They’ll send a guy up to let you in.” Hoffman opened his room door, going inside and holding it open for her to enter.

She hesitated.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She had slept over at his place before. They had shared the same bed, in fact. So why was she suddenly feeling so shy? Wary?

She blamed the alcohol. 

She walked across the threshold and into his room.

The bed was large, king sized. She went to the phone and dialed for the concierge, requesting to be let into her room.

“I apologize, miss, our computer system is having some technical issues and it’s going to take at least an hour or two to fix.”

“Are you serious?”

“I apologize. We can provide complimentary refreshments down here while you wait? Or if you remain in the room you’re in, we’ll happily send it up.”

She looked over at Hoffman and her eyes lit up. “Fine. Please send up a bottle of champagne.”

“Right away. We appreciate your understanding.”

She returned the phone and let out a sigh. “Computer problem. Going to be stuck for at least an hour. So the champagne’s on me.”

“I knew you were good luck to keep around.”

She wrinkled her nose and let out another breath. Her dress was tight around her waist and she wanted nothing more than to take it off. “Hey. You got an extra shirt?”

“Yeah. Need a shower?”

“Badly.”

Hoffman went to his suitcase, digging through the clothes and tossing her an old oversized t-shirt that had been from the police academy. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” She went into the bathroom, shut the door, and ran the hot water. As the roar of the shower drowned out the sound of the TV playing outside the door, she looked herself in the mirror. Her eyeshadow had smeared. Her eyeliner was running. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and unclasped the top part of the back of her dress. When she moved to unzip, the zipper wouldn’t budget.

She narrowed her eyes and tried again, with more force. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She murmured as she spent a few minutes struggling to unzip her dress.

She looked at the door, conflicted. 

She could ask him to help her, but this seemed too personal. 

I want us to be together. 

She could simply not take a shower and remain in the dress for another hour.

But she was getting irritable with how constricted she felt.  

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous.

A part of her, the small and uncertain troublemaker that poked its shy head around the corner, was eager and hopeful. Maybe this is it.

A part of her wanted what he wanted.

No one will know. Nobody saw you enter his room.

It could be their little secret.

One final tug. Just to try and get out of this moral predicament.

She pulled as hard as she could down on her zipper while gritting her teeth.

When it didn’t give, she surrendered.

Her heart was exploding in her chest when she opened the bathroom door and let the build up of steam release out into the room. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” He was on the bed, sipping booze from the minibar, his bow tie and shirt long hanging on the nearby loveseat. He looked more relaxed and at home in a plain white tank. His shoes were off. He leaned back against the pillows, not looking at her while he watched a rerun of some old football game.

“Can you help me?” She pressed her lips together, flushed.

Hoffman turned, eyes slightly slanted from curiosity. His lip curled in dark humor. “With what?”

“My zipper.” She held her hair up and turned her back, avoiding looking at his face. She felt his eyes, like hot flames on her skin. She heard the rustle of the bedsheets as he stood up and went to her. The sudden feeling of his knuckles and fingers touching the skin of her back made her flinch and she held back the gasp when she felt the callouses brush over her, fingers digging under the seam as he tried to pull the contraption.

“It’s caught good,” he whispered, voice suddenly thick like honey.

“Yep. You think I’m stuck in this?” She wondered if Angie would forgive her if she took a pair of scissors to it. She had told her to keep it. 

The tide of claustrophobia came in like an icy wave. 

“No. I’ve got it.” She felt a tremor in his hands and the build up of energy as he tried to brute force the metal to give. She bit her lip, pressing her front to her chest, bracing for the zipper to finally slacken.

When she heard the sharp rip of fabric, the silence that followed was deafening. 

The dress was now in tatters, shredded fabric dangling from where she held the front. 

Hot, slow fingers landed on her shoulders. She felt his breath against her ear and the smell of whiskey mixed with spices made her dizzy. “I told you I got it.”

“You ripped it.” She didn’t pull away, her heart racing as she felt his other hand feel her bare back, the tips of his fingers dragging down. Her breath caught in her throat. 

“Oops.” And then she felt his lips against her neck, soft and wet.

She felt a primal desire rise from her lower stomach, making her lose all rational thought as though it had been nothing more than water evaporating off her skin. 

The sound of the water made her think of rain. “I should go take a shower.”

“Yeah?” His voice had gone gruff and short, his hand lowering until it stopped at the waistband of her panties. He continued gently kissing the side of her neck, biting into her skin gently. He squeezed her shoulder firmly. “But you’re not even dirty yet.”

She bit her lip, eyes transfixed on the door and the steam that continued to billow out. Her frozen disposition made him scoff and he lifted his mouth away until she let out a soft moan of protest. She sharply inhaled when his teeth dug deeper into her, shooting jolts of pain that broke the spell. She pulled away, turning to him with fury, pushing him while touching her neck that throbbed with the harsh reminder.

“That hurt.” Her stomach was doing cartwheels. Her breathing was hitched.

That cursed part of her that had remained in the background was now on the tips of its toes, now fully attentive and interested. 

She was losing control.

He had let her push him back towards the bed. He sat onto it, amused, elbows on his thighs as he leaned over and leered at her. “You weren’t complaining just a second ago. But I don’t want this to be one sided.” He reached forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to him. She felt like a fish on the hook, being reeled in against her will. “I don’t want you to treat me like-,” He stopped, knowing better.

She was grateful, understanding him. She wanted him to continue and all it would take is one word. One sign that what she was feeling was real.

Despite the familiar voices warning that this would complicate things, that creature that was taking over, growing and demanding, was slamming the door on all common sense.

“I want this, Mark.” She let go of the front of the dress, allowing her breasts to be exposed. His eyes wandered, hungrily, and she felt as if she was back to being college-aged and inexperienced. 

He had suddenly become savage as he tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her quickly to him. She stopped at the edge of the bed, between his legs, her hands catching herself against him, pressed against his full chest. She could see the five o’clock shadow on his chin. His lashes, brown wings around a blue sky. She missed the feeling of his mouth. She needed to taste him.

She decided to finally give in. She dived off the deep end and landed in his sea.

She kissed him first, hungry and willing. She let go of the fabric to her chest, opting to wrap her arms around his neck as she felt him grab a fistful of her hair to steer her head and push his tongue past her lips. 

She gasped when he spun her around and had her pinned to the bed, pulling from her lips to nip at the nape of her neck. She felt his hands grope and search her as he devoured every inch of her.

It felt wholly familiar, as if returning to a long forgotten house that she once lived in for years. 

He undid his pants, revealing a bulge pressed against his boxers. Grabbing the remaining portions of her dress that still covered her hips, he pulled them off with an almost mad energy, a man in lust and control. 

She sat up, leaning against her elbows, as he returned to kiss her. She noticed she felt clumsy and sloppy, another layer of inebriation making her miss his mouth and instead plant her tongue onto his collar. She tasted salt and soap, her hand lightly raking over his stomach as he let out a soft growl of gratification. The healing scars from the gunshots were still raw and red, breaking through the heat like an ice bath for a split second. She kissed them delicately, not wanting to bring him any more pain but to thank him for his sacrifice to her. 

He had saved her life. 

She let her other hand explore down to his boxers, feeling him thick and hard through the cotton. 

“Fuck, Will,” he was squeezing her shoulder, his grip firm but not overpowering.

She pulled the elastic of his waistband, seeing for the first time him in his full glory, and wanted to reward him with wonders that would keep him up at night from then on with heated nostalgia. He tasted of sweat, his girth burning as she took him in her mouth.

His breathing was ragged as Will moved her head back and forth, feeling him slide past her lips and over her tongue, a surge of triumph at every baritone grunt being forced out of his chest like the strike of a flint over her fuel. 

She pulled back, taking his pillar in her hand, to a protested whine from him. “I love how hard you feel in my mouth, Mark.”

He was panting over her as they shimmied further onto the bed, new lovers with lumbering urgency. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control. It’s fine,” her breathing was ragged as well, her legs splayed apart as she felt his firmness press against her and driving her insane. “Please, Mark. I need you.”

He plunged inside of her, his eyes shut tight at savoring the feeling. She arched her back, feeling him fill her to the hilt. Despite how wet and wild she was, the sharpness of being stretched from many months of lone nights brought shockwaves through her spine and she found her nails digging into his back as he gently moved inside her with clenched jaw and restraint. He enveloped her with thankful kisses and increased his speed.

He began pacing his thrusts, the wet smacking sound of their connection adding a teasing tingle through her anatomy and she tossed her head back to cry out in delight. 

This encouraged him to speed up, the feeling of his sweat an additional aphrodisiac as he roughly pushed into her with unhinged power. 

She was building up, about to be overcome, and she whimpered, “I’m so close. Don’t stop.” He ran his thumb over her nub, drawing circles around her clitoris while he slowed down his thrusts and watched her closely. The feeling was too powerful and she had to shut her eyes and simply allow the sensations to shoot through her bones and sing. She felt her limbs jerk like a marionette, Mark pulling the strings with each touch and probe. The growing heat and pressure rose from her groin and up to her crown and then the wave of ecstasy took all the intensity and turned it to sugar in her veins.

Her sudden change in pitch had been his indication to finish, returning to thrusting into her with accelerating pace until he took one final plunge and let out a satisfied bellow as he finished inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, the two of them breathing heavily as a warmth spread inside and down her thighs.

“You…” Hoffman spoke in between pants, voice thick and slow. “...okay?”

She laughed. “I’m great.” She kissed the side of his cheek. 

The phone on the nightstand began to ring.

[galactic-feelins]

It Was The Night Of The Meteor Shower

Inspired loosely by a prompt, Danny’s friends and family did not survive the events of The Ultimate Enemy. Knowing what he could’ve been, he decides to find his own way through his grief. Although the ghosts of future are dealt with, he now uncovers ghosts of past, and it seems he misunderstood the ghosts in the present.

Pov: Danny going through quite possibly the worst week of his life whilst reliving the worst days of his life.

Link to prompt!

I’ve been thinking back on life lately. Like, was any of that a dream, or was it too real?

- - -

The lab in the basement was always a little unnerving to be in. Exposed wires on unfinished projects, cables running haphazardly across the ground, loose tools scattered everywhere, honestly it’s always been a mess at best. If this were a well known work place, our house would’ve definitely been condemned by now! Walking in now, I immediately regret my decisions up till now. Mom and dad’s latest project may be a bust, but they clearly haven’t cleaned up after they were done!

“Woah! Watch your step there!” Tucker jokes, but this isn’t the first time the floor has been covered in some mysterious substance, let alone a step on the stairs. At least Tucker and Sam seem to be enjoying themselves while I’m stuck with keeping them safe, but what are friends for? “Promise you won’t touch anything in here?” It may be obvious, but I have to ask!

Sam tisked at me sarcastically. “Psh, yeah, I was planning on drinking from mysterious flasks myself. Maybe chew on some cables or steal something radioactive.”

“Sam, I don’t think there would be anything radioactive in here! Danny lives just upstairs from here, wouldn’t he get poisoned if there was?”

“Cable,” I pointed out, just as Tucker was about to trip right over an extension cord, pulling him back for good measure. “Look, I know! Technology, cryptozoology, general weird cyber-goth stuff; I get it! But this stuff is dangerous! You’ve gotta trust me here!”

Sure, they understood of course, but it’s not like they were as serious about it. I’ve lived with this, I know how dangerous the equipment here can be, and I know you need to approach everything here with extreme caution. Maybe that’s why they figured they are safe here with me. Maybe they think I can protect them. I honestly have no idea where they got the idea I could protect anyone.

I could see Tucker shaking, trying so very hard not to pick up the gizmos and gadgets littering the lab to look at closer, but it’s for his safety he doesn’t touch them. I keep an eye on him the most, since Sam is only taking pictures with the camera she brought. I think she brought it so we could work on some project for school, but honestly making memories is more fun. Well, more fun when it’s not in your parents’ ghost hunting lab, anyway. I was watching Tucker lean to look at another side of some kind of circuit board when I heard from Sam again.

“Hey wait! Danny, you have a suit?”

“Ah- maybe? Huh?” Startled, I shot to attention to find Sam picking up a black and white jumpsuit. “Wh- hey!” 

I rush over to snatch it from her hand. It’s safe, clean in fact, and mostly unworn. The jumpsuit itself may not be dangerous, but it’s definitely a blow to an already fragile ego. I hold it out to try and fold it back up properly, but then I hear a click-snap. The camera shutter makes me flinch and I can’t help but glare at Sam.

“Oops?” Sam grins mischievously, brightly, and knowingly. “Hey! Maybe you can try it on!” I really didn’t want to, and she could see it. Sam followed up her request. “Please? I just wanna see it! I’m sure it looks good on you!”

I sigh, knowing defeat and knowing it’s a fairly innocent request. I can wear a jumpsuit fine, and I know it’s tailored to fit me. Heck, maybe it’ll be easier to prevent disasters if I’m protected too! So I step away to put it on over my clothes, listening in on their conversation about the portal itself. Ugh, the portal.

“So they really made a portal?”

“Supposedly, yeah! His parents really seem to believe it could work!”

“But why? We don’t even know if ghosts are real!”

I zip up the front and walk back over to rejoin the conversation, only to find Tucker leaning in closer. He seems to be listening to the hum of machinery. To be honest, it is a nice sound, pretty calming at times, but it can get annoying and usually indicates something live and active. I pull him away by the shoulder as I chime in.

“Well, I think they tried this in college too. Whatever results they found must’ve proven it in their heads that this could work.”

Sam starts snickering, but I can tell by the look she’s giving me that it’s not something I said. In fact, I know exactly what it is. Without saying anything, she walks over and rips off a huge decal of dad’s face from my chest. Honestly, good riddance. I’m sure dad wouldn’t mind a little defacing, as a treat.

“Oh! Idea!” Tucker snaps and points to me as he continues. “We should get a picture of you in the portal like that!”

“Oh yeah!” Sam chimes in. “Yeah in the hollow space there! With you in the suit, standing in front of all of this machinery here, it would look so cool and, maybe even professional!”

Well, it is an interesting idea, and it would look pretty cool. I agree! The jumpsuit has a hood and goggles to protect your scalp and eyes respectively, but we’re not doing anything except posing for a picture. It would look better without the hood anyway, so I leave it down. With that, Sam and Tucker get in position further away while I step inside.

I’ve never been so close, let alone inside of one of my parents’ inventions. Walking in feels surreal. The lights, dots, and lines running across the walls and ceiling are vast and interwoven, and yet so organized and strategically oriented. It’s like one massive circuit board with so many mechanical bits exposed. Clearly this part of the portal wasn’t meant to be seen. As I’m looking around, I feel something hit my foot as I try to take another step, sending a jolt up my spine in a panic. I feel myself lose balance and instinctively I stumble to catch myself. My hand lands on something, usually it would be fine to hold the wall, but in this case I feel something give under my palm. The hum of the portal grows louder, something whirs to life around me, and taking my hand off the wall reveals a button that reads “on” just below it. Realization hits, and I look to Sam and Tucker, but it’s too late. The last thing I see is their panic reflecting mine, before a sharp pain in the back of my neck introduces itself.

- - -

I woke up on the floor. Reality spun for a bit, and I wasn’t sure where I was. I could feel I was laying on some kind of concrete, and I almost thought I was in the lab again. It would’ve been an easy mistake, but I remember now.

I’m in a warehouse, in some city I’ve never known, and I am alone. Sitting up, I rub my hand through my hair, taking a moment to remember where I am and why. I am here because I, Daniel Fenton, am running for my life. Some strange ghosts have been popping up more and more frequently lately, and they’ve been chasing me far more aggressively than any ghost I’ve ever met. Not even Skulker is as bad as these guys! 

In the beginning, there weren’t that many, so they were easy to handle. It was always so strange that they made sounds but never spoke, and they seem to follow pure instinct and emotions. These ghosts don’t banter, have no obvious obsessions, and sometimes I see weird tattoos on them. In fact, there seems to be multiples of them, like blob ghosts. I could fight them off for a while, and I could stop them from attacking random people. A lot of ghost hunters got their infamy and fame for getting rid of these guys too, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Now, however, it feels like swarms of them are tracking me down at all times. 

Just as I was thinking I could never get a rest from them, I feel a chill and see an icy trail of smoke leave my mouth. It seems it’s time to get moving again. I stand and slap myself in the face for a quick burst of energy before transforming. Almost as if on queue, the shadows cast on the ground rise into solid shapes, puffs of black smoke appear and strange knight looking guys drop in the smoke’s place, and all of their beady yellow eyes stare back at me with what I’ve come to understand is killing intent.

Knowing where they are now, I bolt in the opposite direction, flying straight through walls and ceilings, getting as far from my assailants as possible. These guys are persistent, but it seems most of them don’t know how to fly. Problem is, some do. Once I’m outside, I catch sight of some more of the strange ghosts, these ones winged and colorful. “Are the wings really necessary?” No response, as always. It seems there’s only about, say, 7 total? At least 3 different shapes at a glance. Since they’re in the air, it’s probably safe to say a few ecto-blasts should take care of them no harm done!

A bit of blasting, a bit of punching, a few scratches here and there, and the numbers start dwindling! Sometimes after hitting them enough, they’ll poof and turn into weird heart shaped cores, so I stuff them in the thermos! I can’t exactly dispose of them anywhere, not anymore especially, so this thing is getting a bit crowded. The good news is I don’t try to stuff every ghost I see in there. In fact, the number of flying guys has increased dramatically over time already, so I figured I gotta leave again. 

Of course they followed me. I tried to stop somewhere for a moment when I thought I got enough distance, but there they are! In the distance! Flying towards me! From this vantage point, it’s easy to see just how many of them there are total. I see the ones from inside the building scrambling out, and I can see many more from the shadows and side streets all skittering out as a crowd. “Oh boy,” here we go again.

- - -

Back then, I woke up to a weird feeling that has since become normal. Everything was light and tingly, and yet so, so weak. I could hear shouting, though too muffled to understand right away. When I finally tried to open my eyes, there was a red flashing, giving way to a green glowing light occasionally. When I came to, I saw Tucker and Sam’s faces, panicked and every crying, yelling and begging for me to say something or give a sign that I was ok. I didn’t feel ok, but I tried at least sitting up at the time.

White hair, white gloves, black suit. There might have been a decal, something tells me there wasn’t, but the decal looks cool enough it might as well have always been there. With help I stood up, and we found our way to a mirror so I could see the damage for myself. I was glowing, but not in a figurative way, but more in the way a hot iron will glow white with heat, or maybe how some toxic goo would glow like a vat of glow-sticks. There were my eyes, staring back like green neon signs on a horribly scratched up sign. As I began to panic, I watched my face twist in the mirror into something else, which only made me panic more. The more I panicked the less human I looked, and the less human I looked the more I panicked, but Tucker helped ground me again. Sam comforted me and had me take deep breaths. Before I knew it, I was myself again, black hair and all. Life had never been the same since that day. The way everyone else in Amity Park know it, that was the night of the meteor shower.

- - -

I finally found another moment’s rest. Ironically, it was the presence of another ghost that calmed my nerves. Unfortunately it was Skulker that decided to stop by.

“Well, you sure are far from home, aren’t you?”

“Can you really say I have a home anymore? You know what happened.”

Of course Skulker knew. He smiled knowingly before thankfully changing the subject. “Those shadow ghosts really have it out for you huh? They should really know their place!”

“Heh, yeah, I wonder what I did to piss so many off them off like this!”

“Oh, what didn’t you do!”

Admittedly, he got a laugh out of me. Feeling a bit more at ease, I sit down on a dumpster nearby. Skulker can make himself comfy on his own. I can’t help finding it strange that Skulker is the only other ghost I know that’s approached me so far. I have been running for a few weeks now, so I have gotten pretty far from the ghost portal, but even then there are other ghosts out there! And yet, it almost feels like everyone’s avoiding me. Skulker is the only one that I’ve been able to confide in lately.

“So what do you think their deal is?” I don’t wanna change the subject yet. I have had plenty of time with these guys and I wish I knew what they’re doing.

“You think I would know? You think I would send them after you like that?”

“What? Nah! You hunt alone don’t you?”

“Exactly that, welp! I don’t need any hounds chasing you and herding you to me! I can and will catch you on my own terms!”

“Oh goodie. Always wanted to be mounted on a wall.” The sarcasm might’ve been lost on Skulker, but it helps me stay calm.

“Maybe some day, but today is not that day! I need you in top performance before I can hunt you down proper! For now, I will help you in your time of need. Hunter’s honor.”

“Hunter’s honor…” I respond a little quieter, honestly not sure if that’s a thing. Something about it feels less like a promise, and more like camaraderie. I suppose I could have been considered a hunter, but, “I can’t be a hunter. I’m not hunting anything.”

“Oh, aren’t you? I believe I remember you were hunting for a solution to your uh… situation…”

My situation is not the same! I can’t say that, I couldn’t even bring myself to answer. My situation… it’s hard to explain, it was a stupid spur of the moment decision. Meeting clockwork, seeing Amity Park’s future, knowing what I could become, it’s all a mess I wish I could forget. I stare at a nearby wall, holding my chest, and feeling not only my pulse but a soft drumming of something foreign and new.

I failed to save them. I failed to save my friends from disaster. I don’t know what gave them the impression I could save them, especially if I was the one that put them in danger. After that explosion, there were no survivors of that accident. I saw some kind of light leaving their bodies, I could hear a soft hum from each of the lights. The hum was familiar, but much quieter than the one I’m familiar with. I was scared, and I didn’t want to lose what little what left of my friends and family. So I grabbed on. I rushed to scoop up those little lights before they flew away or shattered with how young and fragile they were. I held them close in grief, and then, they were gone. I could still feel them now, but they weren’t in my arms anymore. What’s left of everyone is right here, with what’s left of me.

“I can’t find a solution if I’m dead.” I realize my poor choice in wording immediately. “Gone. Turned to dust. Reduced to atoms. Nothing could save them then.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to worry about your grief anymore if, you know, you weren’t conscious anymore? I could put your cores in a jar and put it up on my mantle!”

“Oh what are you, a heartless?”

A beat. A… Heartless?

“Oh, so the welp doesn’t know grammar either, it seems!”

I don’t respond, and he seems to catch on. Why did I say that? Why is it getting to me? What is a heartless and why does it feel familiar? I try to stand again, but my legs start feeling a bit wobbly, and my head gets fuzzy. A heartless. What is a heartless? Why do I know this? My energy is spent, and as the world goes dark I hear a vague shout, and I hit the ground.

[sqarletsworldlesswandering]

Also back on Subnautica crossover

On a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being the worst), how freaked out were the duo about being (Mostly) human?

How would Robin meet the duo?

Duo trying to do human stuff (tm)

Edda biting someone

Probably a solid 10, because everything Feels Wrong at that point. They've got a whole new set of limitations, they are very mortal, they're more fragile, they need air and food, they can tell there's more going on inside them, they've got an endoskeleton that can break.... At first, they're extremely freaked out, and at least one of them - most likely Aven - has a run-in with the restricted breathing side of freaking out.

As for Robin, I have a couple ideas. Option 1, they just kinda...run into each other. They're both looking for a resource - possibly food - and end up at the same hunting ground. Option 2, Robin sees signs of unusual disturbance of the wildlife, investigates, and either finds the two messing around, or actively in trouble (and gets them out). Option 3, AL-AN picks up on them, and suggests they investigate. Bonus points if he picks up on distress of some kind and the two conduct an impromptu rescue mission.

Ah yes. The Duo must now Human™. Which is...easier said than done. In particular I can see them having to get used to having actual feet, since those are new (although also useful, so yay). Also figuring out how to swallow food, if we assume this isn't Eclipsed (if it is, things go a but differently). Plus the encounters with needing Sleep™, and at least one of them just passing out. Also "what is this technology? How do I use it? What is this language...?"

Even just walking around is probably weird, since their weight distribution is probably all wonky 'n stuff.

Oh, also, having facial features is... new. Cue the absolute joys of getting stuff in their eyes, breathing in something they shouldn't, trying to figure out what this tongue thing in their mouth is, getting water in their ears, having their ears pop.... crying-

Yeah. They've got a lot to get used to.

[little-raccoontails]

Fragile

A/N Tails heree! This one is an interesting one... Also considering the reader is the sister in this story, its platonic relationships :) Enjoy~

~

Fragile. That's what she was.The youngest, arguably smallest sibling out of her brothers.

“Yellow! Where did you go?”

Looking down from where she was perched, she saw a shadow engulf the wall beside her. Father. He made his way over, the short stout, concerningly round, rat made his way to where she was.

“Yellow! Get down from there! If you fall you will-”

“Shatter my shell. I know.”

Slowly she made her way down, her shorter legs struggling to reach the floor. Wrinkled hands picked her up and plopped her on the ground. 

“I don’t see why I have to be so careful all the time.”

“Little one, I care for you and cannot bear to see you hurt.”

“You don’t fuss over Don all the time.”

“...”

Sighing, the child made her way back to her home, stumbling and tripping every other step. The rat watched in grim silence as he followed behind her, hands and tail hovering over her every move. Just in case.

“Y/N!”

A large figure picked up the small turtle and spun her around. He looked back at her worry and concern filling his gaze before crushing her again in a tight hug.

“Raph, my son, she is fine. Do not worry.”

The red bandana around his head seemed to be the only thing she could see. Wiggling around, she felt herself being gripped tighter. Whining, and still trying to struggle her way out of her brother's hug, she reached over and bit down.

“OW!”

Immediately being dropped, she winced as she heard the floor make contact with her shell with a sharp clank. Silence fell across  the room. It was like a heavy blanket was draped over everyone.

Slowly, sniffles were heard. They steadily grew louder before full on sobs came from the eldest brother.

“Raph? Raph why are you crying?”

The snapping turtle didn’t respond. Moving to get up the youngest winced. She went stone still. Pain erupted throughout the nerves in her shell. 

“Your- your shell. It, uhh it's…”

Donnie’ s quiet voice came from behind the shaking turtle. Splinter carefully approached her. However, before he could try to do anything, the turtle stood wincing. 

“Yellow…”

Wiping the tears starting to form, she started walking towards her crying brother. She hugged him.

“Raph, it doesn’t hurt. Raph I'm okay. Raph I promise I'm fine.”

She was lying.

It was obvious to everyone in the room. But no one said anything. They watched as she stood there, crying and sobbing while mumbling reassurances. Eventually the rest of the brothers joined the hug. They were all crying and very carefully maneuvering around their little sister, avoiding her splintered shell like the plague.

All was fine until-

Waking up with a start she looked around. She lay atop of Raph, the brother snoring loudly. Perched near his shoulder and curled up with a book in her face.

“Huh. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

She looked towards the couch, the pink tail of her father splayed over the armrest. She felt something shift beside her and saw Donatello turn over. He was out cold, a pillow clutched tightly in his arms. She looked back down at her book: The basics of Technology and Circuits. She had taken it out of Donnie’s room a few days ago. He would talk about all of these wonderful things, with such passion. But she didn’t understand. It was all so complicated, she could only wish for a brain like Donnie’s. So here she was, sitting on top of the eldest brother reading until she passed out. 

“Are you awake Y/N?”

The tired voice of Leo came from her other side. 

“Hmm? Yeah. When did you wake up?”

“Just now.”

They both fell into a comfortable quiet. 

“Leo?”

“What’s up sis?”

“Do you think I'll be big and strong like you and the others someday?”

“Well… Don’s pretty weak so you’ll be stronger than him for sure.”

“Wha- Hey!” The softshell shouted, having just woken up.

The female hid her giggles into Raph’s shoulder. The two twins now arguing over who’s better. Raph shifted under her as he slowly woke up. Mikey soon following suit. 

“Heya Y/N.”

She looked down to see a fully awake snapping turtle looking up at her. Smiling down at him, she snuggled back into his shell and went back to her book, the distant arguing of her brother's fading. She was happy. She was content. Curling even further into her brother she felt the both of them relax at the comfort. The dull aching of her cracked shell from the dream forgotten .

~

It was around dinner when the argument started. The twins were debating over who could beat the other in mario kart. Mikey was sitting next to them doodling with crayons and Raph was watching the twins play, occasionally trying to calm them both down. Eventually, they all got bored and decided to go skate. 

“Last one up is a stinky sewer rat!”

“Hey wait up!”

“Leo, you're stepping on my face!”

The siblings fought their way up the stairs to the top of the ramp, Raph coming in last.

“I wanna try a new trick!”

Leo exclaimed, grabbing his board along with Y/N’s.

“Leo, you gimme back my board.”

“But I wanna try something.”

Y/N went to take back her board when the blue turtle yanked it out of her grasp. 

“Leo, why don’t you just give it back. I’ll let you use mine.”

Raph, ever the kindhearted, tried to diffuse the situation. The two siblings only ignored him, both too busy arguing. 

It wasn’t often her and Leo fought, but recently he seemed insufferable. And she was sick of it.

[thedawningofthehour]

does Gale has a complex about his shell like Donnie did? if yes, did Draxy ever went "i choose a soft shell because they are incredible ambush predators with amazingly strongs bites and speed, that has cannibalistics tendencies, so shut up my son you are amazing" ?

Oh, definitely. It's a bit strange for him because he doesn't remember anyone ever implying that he was fragile. It was Splinter who worried over him and told his brothers to be careful with him, it was Raph who babied him, and a lot of Donnie's complex came from seeing how differently his brothers were treated. Those memories were all repressed/overwritten, but the feelings remain. So now Galois has a lot of feelings that really confuse him because he doesn't know where they came from.

And to be fair, Draxy is still more protective of him than he would be otherwise. He doesn't really notice because Galois doesn't have brothers to compare his dad's treatment to-there's Cass and Draxum is protective of her too, but she's also human. He sees how Draxum interacts with Pax, but-this hasn't come up yet, but Pax was actually pretty frail growing up and his health still isn't great, so Draxum does hover over him a bit. The only person who would really trigger that 'he treats them differently' feeling would be Bella, and his memories of Bella are all very artificial because he hasn't actually interacted with her in person.

Draxum is very aware of his shell complex though and is trying to work on that. He stresses that his insistence of keeping Galois out of the field is purely because his intelligence outstrips his battle prowess and he's more useful in the lab, not because of his supposed fragility. Even in training-yeah, he has to train Galois differently than he world a hard-shelled turtle, he has to focus on evading and avoiding hits because his body just can't take them. But Draxum stresses that it's not because his body is weaker, just that it has different stats.

Now that I think about it, this is one of those places where Draxum's hesitance to embrace modern technology and culture kind of bites him in the ass, because if he knew anything about Pokémon he could compare it to building a team. A lot of competitive teams have a sweeper, and a lot of them rely on speed and evasion instead of defense to avoid being KOed. That would probably reach Galois more effectively than any speech Draxum could give him.

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 4x15 Bar Association thoughts (I’m re-watching, so beware spoilers for future episodes!) [5 July ‘23]

So hype for episode. I love Rom to bits.

"Mister Worf, you're in love. With the Defiant." "You exaggerate, as usual." But he huffed in amusement and that was almost a smile, he doesn't do that with anyone else

Julian is so disgruntled about this outfit, aww :3

Leeta is awesome, advocating for Rom like that <3 I look forward to seeing more of her!

"It's all part of our generous employee compensation package. No sick days, no vacations, no paid overtime." Such sarcasm, Rom, I wasn't expecting that!

"I don't think Julian would approve." "We could ask him." ...I do actually like Rom, Leeta and Julian as a ship tbh

"Isn't this your tooth sharpener?" xD how proud was Worf of that purchase, that Jadzia knows what it is?

"They did not happen on the Enterprise." "Really?" Odo's grin - he's been waiting for an opportunity to reel off the Enterprise's biggest security breaches, right? XD

"We're going to form a... a..." Oh Rom, you're being super brave, I believe you can say it!

Miles perking up at the mention of Rom's union and being super supportive... And then telling Rom about how his ancestor died

It's always fun seeing iconic lines in action. "He was more than a hero, he was a union man."

"After that, it'll work like a charm." "Until the next time it breaks down." "That's the problem when you combine Cardassian, Bajoran and Federation technology." Love Miles being sarcastic at Worf, and Worf being so put out at the idea of things breaking down - poor guy, it's a good job he's not an engineer!

"It's a lot easier than working on the Enterprise." Worf's so confused by this XD

Quark's laughter before realising Rom actually means it

Hologram Quark!

Quark trying to call the cops on the strikers is so very him :/

And Odo agreeing! - never has he felt more police-like.

"But I have strict orders from Captain Sisko not to impinge on your employees' freedom of expression," he sighs, disdainfully. COP

"Wait a minute. I can't believe it! He's an enter." "Not for long!" I'm so here for O'Brien going after Worf

The three of them disgruntled in a holding cell is hilarious

Julian looks like a nervous school boy

"Captain? Can we leave now?" "I'll tell Constable Odo to let you go... in the morning." I love Sisko's "sense of humour".

Quark does not understand Rom's position at *all*, expecting an offer of private Latinum to sway him.

"Workers of the world, unite!" ❤❤

Oh Brunt's looking forward to this, isn't he? UGH

Love seeing the other ferengi getting involved and speaking up

"Spare me. I'm old, I'm fragile. I'll push the rest of them off myself." Classic.

"Don't let him intimidate you." ROM <3

The venom with which Brunt looks at Leeta, as he says "living on this station has... corrupted you."

"Standing tall like Sean O'Brien!" it's so cute how that story has inspired Rom

O'Brien's little thumbs up at Rom :3

"But you'll be living out there all by yourself!" "I know." Oh, Worf. smh

"What you were trying to do was make yourself feel important. Making me feel dumb made you feel smart. But I'm not dumb and you're not half as smart as you think you are." YES ROM

"If brunt gets rid of me, all your problems will be solved." This has really been the making of Rom

"You're here to help me, right?" "Wrong." Hah! Really, Quark?

"Let's see. Who else does Rom care about...?" Quark.

"If Odo hadn't come along when he did... "

"You have to dissolve the union... At least officially..." Yeah, an idea's coming

"Six months!" "It's the best I can do." "No, it's not. All you have to do is make up one of your fake business ledgers for the FCA. They'll never know the difference." "Shush! All right, you'll get your raises by the end of the week." End of the week?! Good negotiation, Rom, I love how well you know your brother - but also Quark was uncharacteristically generous with that haggling?

I'm sad the union couldn't last

"Better?" Hehe, Worf is so annoyed that even here, someone has found him to interrupt his peace XD At least it's Jadzia, am I right?

"Sooner or later, you're going to have to adapt." I guess he does when he moves in with Jadzia? I can't imagine she moves to the Defiant...

"You're quitting?" "Effective immediately." "I gave you everything you wanted." "I know. But if the strike taught me anything, it's that I do a lot better when you're not around." Quark is so nonplussed XD But I love this for Rom

"Think about it from my point of view. If I keep working for you, all I have to look forward to is waiting for you to die so I can inherit the bar." Yep, that's sure a take to have

"Now get me my snail juice! ...Brother." Aww, he's so pleased with himself - and well he should be!

[purple-compromise]

[A fun BLU Specialist-centric fic submitted by @taytay4674788 Thank you so, so much for sharing this!! 💜]

Yeah this took a while between tumblr being weird with glitches and going back and forth with support on unresolved issues since October. But I think I found a temporary way to submit stuff to you at least at the moment ( at least 8 pages of fic in google docs).

I originally wanted to do a double take moment via a dream but it didn’t make much sense to do so with red spesh(and that’s going to be with a different character instead ;) )… So I ended up doing an eight page half character study half second half story with Blu spesh instead, as I enjoy making characters suffer having them question their own morals! It might be Ooc for both blu med(to be fair blu med would likely relish in torture in you wronged him or to send a message, especially if it’s from the enemy team) and blu spesh but I’d love to hear thoughts anyway since it’s been nearly a solid year since my last actual fic, on top of the fact that this is my first reader fic and first time writing the mercs. There is a part one to this fic, I just held it off since I had better flow with this one and I’m still trying to figure out dialogue, characterization and a few other details so the period of time is intentionally vague so it can act as a stand alone.All I know is that it takes place after chapter 31 in TIWWAN, and this is on the in-game Badlands control point map, not Teufort, not the overall arching map of The Badlands.

Very important distinction.

_______________

You aren’t a bad person for taking this job. You knew that you’d get money,good money. Highest pay rate than anywhere in this backwater wasteland to send back home and still have enough to indulge into cigarettes daily from the dinky corner store in town.

So should it disturb you as much as it really should?

You kill each other out on the field every day, with most of the time the Red bastards push through to capture a point. So really it should be an equal retribution in all things considered. She kills you, you kill her. It’s all equal in the circle of life in a private war funded by cash that even the IRS wouldn’t shy an eye away from collecting all of it if it weren’t for Miss Pauling. You may have been the family disappointment to drop out of college, but you’re sure as hell that you’re not letting your sister do so. She has viable dreams to chase, well you, just need a little more time to figure it out.

Flicking open the nice red and white packaging of your care unit of cigarettes into your crisp uniform pocket of your assigned blue uniform, hair neatly tucked and out of the way. Counting under your breath the fresh cigarettes left in your case; you’ll be going to town this weekend to get some more. You’ve been saving the ones Spy has acquired for you, towards .. a later occasion, for when it really matters. For now, the ones from the corner store are going to suffice, even if it just tastes like chemically processed tobacco.

Your boots, a bit dusty from today’s scrimmage against those Red team bastards, click gently against the quiet blue dirt stained concrete. Making your way out through the hall passing cold steel to have a quiet smoke, the hum of electricity droning a bit too loudly in your ears for your taste. Maybe staring up at the stars for a bit if it isn’t cloudy again tonight. Sometimes it brings peace when you can’t listen to rerun broadcasts of Earplay on the radio that Engineer built for your team, that is when you could get more than the two stations Tuefort has and.. When you’re in the mood.. For that sort of.. Media. Yet, it’s a bit of romance and entertainment you needed while waiting for The Firesign Theatre to release their latest album of dramas.

Art keeps you human, on a fragile equilibrium from diving into the pure insanity that is your team. Being paid to kill humans, who well, keep reviving through technology that most would strive to get their hands on to achieve immortality. It can be a nasty sentiment that you don’t like to think about when it crawls up. How humans with bonds can and will destroy each other over the smallest discrepancies out of greed.

The uncanny valley isn't a physical place, only one of the mind. Diving straight into your soul. To unsettle yourself from the basic facts of life.. At least.. As you know them.

Does it unsettle you, walking past the infirmary in the evening, peeking through the infirmary double doors carelessly left open as if it was an actual medical emergency. It probably would’ve been, if the ones screaming bloody murder weren’t .. feminine screams, ones that match your own after taking a buckshot to the back. To witness a struggle between your team's medic and a visage of yourself trying to fend back clearly being overpowered from experimental medicine. Her blood, iron instead of standard antiseptic, attacking your senses. Nearly being able to taste it despite it being scattered on the floor and not on your hands this time. A mess against the contrast of the lack of life in the sterile halls collecting dust and oil. Fluorescent lights screaming out with a buzz with an underlying static tone against your heart rate. One needle that you can tell, already sticking out from her dominant arm, it’s different from the standard syringes your medic uses while in battle. Then again he’s mentioned offhand about a crossbow type weapon that he’s been gloating in development as of late, at least whenever you had an issue that a cigarette couldn't solve. His blue scheme of a lab coat is disrupted by large splotches of crimson soaking into the material on his shoulder, while she is struggling to keep awake. Grimacing on her face definitely indicates that something more than–

“Fräulein!-”

The loud slamming of metal trays holding medical instruments against the concrete floor in an escape attempt off the gurney forces you to jump back in a bit of pain and out of sightline. The sudden loudness to look away from the sight, forcing you out of your thoughts to cower, covering your ears. Gunshots are one thing, metal on concrete is probably worse. Oh definitely you’re going to get her on the battlefield for that one.

For only a moment that you consider that maybe he has one shred of decency in him. He rarely, if never takes a charity case on the field, especially for the enemy team. Perhaps that there’s actually a moral compass in there somewhere; trying to maybe preserve her life from whatever injuries—

Smack!

The sickening short sound echoing out of the infirmary reverberates against your heart. Shouts of insulting degradation, an unnatural sounding crack resulting in a sharp feminine cry of pain shortly following his remarks. Something you aren’t accustomed to outside of combat, especially not coming from yourself.

A quiet sigh further reinforces your gut judgment of character into actual fact of life about your medic. Not surprising in the slightest. Blue is not a calming color on this team, regardless of what literary analysis says.

Glancing back in as your team’s medic degrades your red counterpart, her coat’s thrown across the floor soaking up drying blood. No sign of visible weaponry as far as you could tell between the scuffling. You don’t know a lick of German, and don’t care to learn, but his expression reads of one who clearly has the upper hand in this fight as far as you can tell. His weight shifts quickly to keep her pinned down with one arm as she still flails to get him off. She is rightfully terrified, attempting to calculate another escape route struggling against the gurney, not seeing a needle sedative of some sort ready to inject into her flesh; hiding behind his back presumably grabbing from one of the smaller trays not immediately by the gurney. Only for your counterpart to use any means of what’s left functioning to get away from him, grasping at the restraints to undo them one handedly. Really the only time you could sympathize with her. If you could help her, you would. Her death is on the battlefield, not one on one with your medic who breaks femurs for amusement. As of now, you can only offer pity.

He’s absolutely playing god for his own benefit, and dialing it up beyond 10. Evidently in the vindictive smile he wears as his blue gloved hand wrapped around her throat. Relishing in her distorted chokes, her body still convulsing to fight his grip. Probably leaving a bruise if she doesn’t get sent through respawn first. Her distress is that his other hand is probably touching open wounds, likely in retaliation of some sort.

It’s something you’ve known all along, nor does it surprise you by any means. However, a human trained in pharmaceuticals to lose their shit on a patient who’s at a current physical disadvantage.. And torturing them in a way to send a message, seeking vengeance outside of the battlefield, leaves a distaste in your mouth.

It furthers your questioning of how your own medic sees you. You already knew that he sees you as a sack of organs waiting to be mixed and matched into a chimera abomination. A chill courses down into your spine in a pale realization.

Who’s to stop him from treating you the same way he does her? A paycheck?

You need a cigarette.

You don’t think that you’re a bad person, the medic on your team would absolutely flip your organs around like a 1,000 piece puzzle, pushing the limit of functioning. Interfering with his latest vanity project of immortality, is not worth being under the knife instead of your counterpart. That’s a fight between him and his counterpart for data, not you to be a martyr for someone who knew what she signed up for. Shrieks and swears threaten to distract you from your internal justifications once again.

It hits you, she’s been able to beat you down on the field before and has most definitely sent you straight back to respawn before. She should be able to defeat this man single handedly by all things considered in terms of adrenaline strength, you think. Briefly glossing over that Engineer had stayed back to test out a prototype of a sentry model and a few other machines outside. Mentioned it back at dinner a couple nights back about improving positioning and range, recalling that conversation in your mind. But even then, a normal sentry hasn’t completely taken her down with her shield without an übercharge, it at least hasn’t with your own shield by any means when you’re paying attention and not getting shot at from their loudmouth Scout. For now, you stare back to the corkboard filled with notes neatly laying on beige and blue paint on the walls. Looking for a rationalized answer, as if the corkboard of past events and reminders would just give it to you.

Memory flickers back from earlier before shift, Medic mentioning about a crossbow weapon in development. Something about needing a longer range, in order to focus on building über to take out the Red team, truly you have a tendency to tune out the bastard most of the time. Really it wouldn’t surprise you if it was really an excuse for him to just build über with Heavy. He’d probably stick that Medigun of his right up Heavy's ass if he physically could with how he doesn’t heal much of anyone else on his own team, except at the beginning of the match. Your eyes slowly search back into the blast of fluorescents, she still wriggling under his touch, an animal trying to gnaw off its leg caught in a trap to escape.

She probably would’ve struck equal if the ever increasing mass of needles, at least one that you’re guessing is a numbing agent, weren't stuck in her dominant arm. Only one of them you recognize from surgery, the others just look indistinguishable from his syringe gun but its size forces you to swallow down spit in your dry throat. Her fingers are trying to feel for something as the metal doesn’t feel crisp, spitting at your medic in disgust. Mentioning something about adjusting the contents of whatever he shot her with, the nut case being overwhelmingly gleeful about it too. Her, while you give her credit for being a fighter, slowly keeps searching to leverage against. Anything to try and gain an advantage.

Her eyes, realizing you are still staring into a macabre mirror of horror, locking into yours, silently pleading to you for a swift death. Something to get out of his hands. The air drops into a cold you haven’t felt in sometime, as all you could do was stare back at her. Reaching out if her closest arm wasn’t restrained down against the gurney, minimally in spirit. At least for a moment, before a natural response averts the moment into one of resistance from instruments of surgery to shredding flesh.

Is it wrong to outright deny mercy in a power imbalance to your enemy who is clearly begging for it?

Would she grant that same mercy to you?

The flashes of her pleading for death on a doctor's gurney in your mind, processing the unnaturality of it. Not that you fight her everyday over god knows what, or that she’s in surgery, the contrast of red outside the battlefield is supposed to be the remnants of blood medic should be cleaning up. Not dissecting a patient from the enemy team after hours.

For you to imagine intervening and putting a bullet between her eyes out of mercy has a different moment of surrealism. Yes you’ve insulted, spat on, kicked, trampled over her corpse, and probably broke her nose with more force than necessary more than a few times during work hours.. you.. easily forget when indulging in victory when the final bell rings at 3pm.. just not 7:38 in the evening, looking at a reflection where a mirror isn’t supposed to be.

You really need a cigarette.

Peeling yourself away from the sights and sounds of yourself, jittery hands reach for a lighter in the opposing pocket. Deliberately ignoring the drying blood on the floors trailing through the halls, that you noticed taking a second glance. The scent of iron you didn’t create slowly leaves your senses. Forcing the chilling screams fading back into echoes once again. Letting your body go on autopilot towards a quieter spot towards the exit door as the sounds of the infirmary become mere echoes. To the sound of comforting footsteps at this moment in time. Flipping the lip of the white and red box to reach for the safe constant of tobacco.

The Badlands despite being a natural wasteland spanning several acres.. Does have its own natural beauty when not roasting alive underneath the harsh sun of the New Mexico desert. Really the moments of transition between night and day are poetic in their own right. A production ending with a curtain call each day, skipping over the rehearsal and casting call; Straight on to the show for the next morning. A repetitive show that doesn’t truly conclude.

Click, click, click

The cold lighter shakes slightly as you try to focus on just having a quiet smoke. Your thumb brushes over the smoothness of the lighter as you close it with a solid click. Trying to wipe away.. whatever the hell you’d encountered back there.

Inhaling spicy warm tobacco gives you comfort from the thoughts and guilt of your mind. A walk, your brain drifts, is what you need. Exhaling out a puff of gray smoke, admiring the sun slowly setting into the evening sky. The cirrus clouds clawing through the sky breaking the gradient of the evening, layering clouds upon itself as your shadows trails further behind you. The dirt and sand kicking up under your boots, heels dragging along creating a path in the quiet desert, straying away from base the nightlife slowly waking up to their circadian rhythm against the machine guns and soaking of the day’s bloody rain.

Your peace.. is disrupted from the following of loud curses in German, maybe a different dialect but you can’t quite tell if it’s the echo.. And distinct, American English echoing through the landscape. Which is to be expected, after all, she’s patient zero for an upgrade in immortality that’s what you could gather from the medical record from your first intelligence grab. A big game of capture the flag, really.

With a syringe gun and shotgun pointed out barreling towards you, you throw your hands up that’s normally reserved for a bitter defeat. Yes, your Commander is at the ready if their idiotic Soldier starts blasting at you for existing in blue; but if the fight is unpaid it’s not worth your time. Your Soldier may berate you for insubordination or some shit, and the worst side of the spectrum is that Medic might schedule a sudden examination of your internal organs. Getting sent through respawn after hours isn’t worth buying time for someone you loathe to be around. Besides, as long as your Red counterpart doesn’t screw up by doing something incredibly stupid, you’ve got free room and board. A class on both sides or none at all, right?

You roll your eyes as their incredibly loud Soldier, starts barking orders and pumps his shotgun, presumably to aim at your chest. Incessant arguing increasingly becomes irritating to the disagreement you’re not even a part of. At least their medic has enough of a brain to identify a peace offering when he sees one.

Their Medic dressed in red narrows his brows in suspicion. Granted from his irritation, he himself has slathers of blood covering his lab coat, the dust decorating him in an offset of brown glitter. Working on who, well with an enormously large figure hauling a large glintering silver barrel at his side just pacing further behind from the duo here? Well it doesn’t take a ton of context clues to figure it out.

“It’s too much of a lovely evening to be standing out here in the desert. Might want to check out the infirmary for sunburns. The desert is harsh on skin after all.”

Pulling the cigarette out of your mouth for a moment to flick the glowing embers to the dusty earth, the dry smoke blowing from your lips. Their medic, placing themselves a bit more forward probably to keep their soldier from shooting you into swiss cheese. The desert sands carrying your voice out further towards the enemies who shoot you up on a daily basis, a sigh escaping from your lungs,

“ Fellas! I didn’t sign up for unpaid overtime, you don’t exist to me after that final point is captured at 3pm.”

Your eyes connect to try and read their next move, syringe and shotguns still not fully lowered. Obvious distrust, needing more information that clearly isn’t a trap into an ambush. Or a spy posing as you from your own team. After all, you’d hope at least some of your teammates would hold you to have a similar weight of importance in their eyes if Red ever decides to pluck you in retaliation from this event.

You nudge your head slightly towards base, as a directional guide. A puff of smoke exhaling out from your mouth, blocking the view of two visibly stern faces of your sights.

“Mighty shame that our Engineer hasn’t been able to fix our defective emergency exit alarms near our second point, yet..” A specific piece of information needed to earn trust, I mean your Engineer has been caught up with a few different projects lately, neglecting any other maintenance that he can easily fix around this particular base. But it is on his list to fix, whether he actually has gotten to it is yet to be foreseen. It’s up to the Administrator now to decide if an evening brawl would be worthy to add to the workday. That would be a nightmare.

“I’m sure he’ll get to it once he gets a break.”

Clear cut eyes still question your authority, not the answer of a go ahead for a temporary truce. Really, it likely had the opposite effect with their fingers sliding towards the trigger, while your tired hands are slowly seceding to your own gun. If they fire first, well, it shows a reflection of their own character. That or they need more of an outright spelled out truth. Which really, the lead paint they must’ve licked, had done more damage than what New York State had initially found in their own population.

“Don’t bother to waste your bullets–”

A quiet snark leaving your throat, the smoke escaping your lips as the warm cigarette rests between your forefingers.

“–Sending me through respawn only gives him more time.”

Fallen ash singes against the cooling desert sand, drifting back into the earth between the gentle breeze. Their soldier, becoming increasingly antsy about the lack of gunpowder flying into the air, doesn't even bother to hide it on his face. To level the amount of testosterone of ego out on a 3 v 1, your eyes connect with the shade of crimson with a cross that trails up to their medic.

“She needs you more than what I’m worth in wasted time.”

Perhaps in a way, bargaining for a favor without outright stating it, being saved for a later date not explicitly labeled. You haven’t once brandished your gun for a show of power, nor have they shot you up into a million pieces. Granting mercy to bloodthirsty mercenaries. Aside from some on your team berating you for inaction, the Administrator has eyes everywhere in the Badlands, not just this particular map of dust. You’ve seen the hawking cameras blinking in dark corners documenting everyone’s moves. Could it land you under Miss Pauling’s quicklime? Possibly.. If it’s a repeated behavior, however, you don’t foresee that happening again. If their medic is anything like yours, it’s possible that your counterpart would be tethered to him on the field. Given her judgments and of what little Spy has shared in code, you seriously doubt that she’ll listen to even her own healer of the team.

You’re only here for money, not to worry about anyone else. It’s the entire point of why you’re here in the first place, not to brawl it out 24/7.

Are you putting too much faith in your enemies? Quite likely, but maybe you can guilt one of the three of them for a favor down the line if this fragile equilibrium, at some point, falls apart. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. A life for a life won’t leverage its own weight in a world of daily rebirth by bloodshed. A debt for a debt holds a hierarchy in a lawless land.

Their medic, jaw clenched, must've struck a nerve somewhere but refuses to show it. Giving a silent eye to their Heavy for a silent reassurance of the next step. While their Soldier is barely keeping restraint to shoot something on behalf of Uncle Sam or for the honor of America. A brief moment of silence, before sharp eyes reacknowledge your peace bargain.

“Danke.”

A 2/3rd agreement to keep moving forward, while Soldier grumbling at sparing the life of an enemy. He may be trigger happy because you exist in blue, but at the least is willing to half recognize a peace offering with information.

The barrage of dust and sand kicks back up, as their plans of attack fade with the movement of tumbleweeds strolling alongside you under a waning moon. Hand resting in the comfort of your coat pockets. Your cigarette, a dim beacon of light against the growing darkness in the night sky. Stars peeking out against the handful of bright lights against wooden shacks against the field.

The logistics of morality in private combat is ever changing, and quite frankly gives you a headache to try and think about “doing the right thing” when following the money supports your family. Your heart only knows one certainty when it comes to such mental conflicts on the field.

You’re not a bad person.

____________

A few fun facts with the research I did for this fic:

New York city was the first city to outlaw further usage of lead paint in 1960 before New York state followed through banning usage of lead paint in the late 70s. Lead was effectively banned in 1986, however it didn’t apply to pipes that were already in the ground and walls already painted with lead, it only banned new lead pipes to be placed in for usage beyond. https://www.nyc.gov/site/doh/health/health-topics/lead-poisoning-information-for-building-owners.page

https://www.brookings.edu/blog/up-front/2021/05/13/what-would-it-cost-to-replace-all-the-nations-lead-water-pipes/

I had to take a few liberties with blue spesh and a bit of history too, so I figured that she might get enjoyment out of radio dramas since her inspiration of doing theater in university before dropping out had to come from somewhere. The 70s had a dry spell of radio dramas, since reruns of shows weren’t really commonplace and many live radio dramas were performed live on air in the 40s and 50s until recording media for reruns. Earplay is an actual radio drama that aired in 1972 until 1982 but got picked up by other networks at least until the 1990s.But for this fic its gonna be running a bit earlier than 1972. The Firesign Theatre actually did have some albums for their shows, before their second split.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Firesign_Theatre#Albums

[vilgramcrimeandpunishment]

Daisuke’s first VD (Cement boots)

E: Hello there

D: You’re late

E: Am I? Apologies, did I keep you waiting for long?

D: I get impatient easily, so yeah, you did

E: I see. Rest assured, it won’t happen again. Are you ready to start the interrogation? I’m just here to ask a fe questions

D: Make it quick

E:…Alright. How old are you, Daisuke?

D: Twenty-four

E: How’s life in Milgram?

D: It’s fine

E: Just fine? Anyone you’re close with?

D: No

E:…What about rations? You need anything?

D: No

E: You don’t elaborate much, do you?

D: What else is there to know?

E: *sighs* What a contrast….

D: Hm?

E: I just got done interrogating Kasumi and analyzing her memories. She was friendly unlike someone I’m looking at right now

D: Being friends in prison, specifically with the guard, isn’t exactly something on my bucket list 

E: I’m not here to befriend you, but you’ll have to cooperate if this interrogation is going to be of any success 

D: Just extract the song already or whatever. You’ll find everything you need to know 

E: I need to deeper understanding of you, and it takes a lot more than just extracting your memories 

D: Understanding me is just as successful as moving a mountain. No one can

E:…….

D: Hell, I don’t even understand myself…..

E: You’re a 24 year old man, or a 17 year old going through his emo phase?

D: Shut up

E: It was a joke. But really, just answer my questions

D: I answered what you asked already

E: I need more details

D: On my life here in this shithole? It’s an upgrade from the hell I called my ‘home’, but I ain’t got any hobbies or friends

E: What do you do when you’re bored then?

D: I sleep 

E: Any hobbies before coming here?

D:……..

D: I use to play billiards. I like reading too

E: What about college? 

D: I didn’t go to college

E: Any specific reason? 

D: I…didn’t see the point

E: Was that hesitation I sensed?

D: Your question caught me off guard. What, do you I need to tell you when I went to the bathroom too?

E: ….*clears voice* If you didn’t go to college, what was your living situation like before you came to Milgram?

D: I lived alone

E: What about a job?

D: I worked at a library. It was enough to keep a roof over my head and food on the table

E: So what makes you compare Milgram as a better option than your home?

D: The assholes I was surrounded by were insufferable

E: You hate people that much?

D: They annoy me

E: So that’s why you dislike the rest of the prisoners here? No reason, just misanthropy?

D: What’s the point of being friends with people if they just betray you?

E: Allies are an important thing to have in hard, strange times. Though, I guess it’s not my part to tell you how to interact with the others 

D: You’re right, it’s not

E:….Rest assured, Daisuke. Even if you lie, your memories will show me the truth 

D: What makes you think I’m lying?

E: Your tone and words reek of some deceptiveness. As a prison ward and the judge of your sins, I’ll find the truth 

D: Big words

E: You doubt me?

D: Cocky too….

E: *clicks tongue* 

D: Anyways, if my memories will just show you the truth, what’s the point of this meaningless interrogation? 

E: I need to deduce the optimal moment to use it. If I just use it now, without the memory and topic resurfacing to the murder in question, the video will show something else

D: Can’t I just think about it really hard? 

E: No. It doesn’t work that way. This technology is very new and fragile, but sensitive. It’s designed to pick out the most accurate depiction of what the murder is, why it occurred, and the instances that lead to the mindset the prisoner was in to commit the murder

D: Seems like a waste of resources

E: No one asked for your opinion. You can either comply with our protocol, or whine to no avail

D: I just stated in opinion

E: If you’re voted guilty, your opinion will be utterly worthless

D: Eh? Was it not already?

E:…eh?

D: Huh?

E: What?

D:…never mind. Any other pointless questions with obvious answers?

E: Daisuke Kurosaki?

D: Hm?

E: Look up

D: Why?

E: Just do it

D: *tilts his head up* Alr—AH!

E: *slaps him*

D: W-What was that for?!

E: I hit you cause I hate arrogant asses like yourself

D:…..*heavy breaths*

E: You either question protocol and annoy me to the point of getting hit, or you can shut up and comply 

D: Heh….

E: Eh? What’s with the smirk?

D: You’re…being…weird….warden-san…

E: Says the guy that’s smiling awfully widely after being slapped 

D: Hey….let me take a crack at hitting someone….I want to hear the bones crack as the collision gets harder between my knuckles and their skull

E: !!

D: You enjoyed hurting someone, huh? How cruel of you, warden-san, hehehe…..

E: Enjoy? I only did it to shut you up

D: Bad idea….I can’t get my mind off of it now…

E: You’re creepy, you know that?

D: Always have been

E: *sighs *mumbles* What a weirdo…

D: If you hit me hard enough, would it be possible that my brain can be screwed up enough that my memories won’t be accurate or show at all?

E: That’s why you’re happy about being hit?

D: No, I just ask out of pure curiosity 

E:…..Daisuke…did you enjoy being hurt?

D: Enjoy…feel my pants getting tighter….sure….

E: Creep….*mumbles* This has to be some sort of act to try to scare me….

E: I don’t have time to play along with his games….I need to focus at the task at hand….

D: This chair I’m sitting on….will it hurt?

E: No, it—

D: Aww….

E: ….?

D: *grins* What if I put someone weaker than me on it? Kasumi or Asuka’s build. But what if it was someone more weak-willed. I’d enjoy seeing the light leave their eyes just seeing something so scary, hehehe…..

(machines whirr, bells ring)

E: A-Already? 

D: Warden—

E: Suddenly acting cold again? *clicks tongue* What is it?

D: Would it be possible that we don’t talk again?

E: Trust me, as much as I would love that, we have two more interrogations after this one

D: What exactly will be the punishment if I’m guilty for this trial?

E: Physical and mental restraints. Your freedom of thought will be denied 

D: Just like back home….

E: Prisoner 002, Daisuke Kurosaki, sing your sins!

[bearcaught]

❝  oh yeah.  now you’re all quiet.  not so bold when you’re not the toughest guy in the room,  huh?  ❞ (From Trenton yes yes, no one messes with the dames of his children)

@ofwings-andclaws

zyair wasn't fragile, he didn't need protection - not usually & even now he would've been ..okay, probably. just some guys joking about something he'd said, which he assumed was something they did to others, too. zyair wasn't actually a traveler, but he still had gaps in his education, especially because the world he knew no longer existed. technology had been rare when he was a child, now it was everywhere - to just point out one big difference.

he hadn't noticed trenton in the store, hadn't even caught his scent for mysterious reasons, so when he stepped in with a growl rumbling in his chest, zyair couldn't help his heart from skipping a beat. he'd never had a protector before, had always been forced to be the strong one - the one to protect himself, or others (when he was a child). he remembered his childhood very, very faintly - no details, but he remembered being the oldest & his parents leaving him in his siblings' care often.

the two alphas that had picked on also didn't seem to have expected anybody to butt in, so both of them looked a little disgruntled & definitely unhappy. looks were exchanged between them, but both seemingly decided teasing wasn't worth the trouble. it wasn't. zyair didn't even care about what they might think.

"you've got to stop saying me. i'll owe you forever at this rate." he said with a little smile.

[bensolosbluesaber]

Secret Identities - Part 2 (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley x reader)

Summary: The Avengers, your team of superheroes, has been called in to handle an invasion in New York, and you’re bringing your superhero boyfriend, Moon Knight, with you.

Part 2 to Secret Identities.

Action/adventure, Cameo-fest

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader

Warnings and A/N: I did my best to accurately represent DID, I put very little effort into creating a plot and a lot of effort into writing dialogue

--

It was only you, Marc, and the agent - whose name you had never learned and didn’t care to learn - on the quinjet. You held Marc’s hand the entire time. There was no denying the anxious fluttering in your stomach as your two lives continued converging. Each second brought Marc closer to the Avengers, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t scare the shit out of you.

You read through the briefing notes, getting occasional comments from the agent now piloting the quinjet. Rogue artificial intelligence, not Ultron level, but dangerous nonetheless. SWORD suspected some alien involvement, but that wasn’t the concern right now. The immediate issue was an army of robots hidden underground waiting to be activated.

At some point you started to fall asleep against Marc’s shoulder. He gingerly shifted you into a laying position resting your head on his thigh in a familiar comfortable position. His hand settles in your hair and strokes the curves of your face, soothing you into sleep. You hardly sleep for an hour before Marc shakes you awake.

“Something’s happening.”

“We need to drop you in,” the agent called back. “The activation happened earlier than our intelligence suggested. Most of the team is already on the ground. Everyone else is on their way. Don’t forget your comm links.”

You sit up and rifle through your bag, pulling out a familiar costume and stripping off your clothes. Marc blinks at you a few times like he’s surprised at your lack of modesty. He knows you well enough that he really shouldn’t be.

“We can’t all summon our suits,” you tease and toss him an ear piece, even as his eyes begin to glow with white moonlight.

“Tell her she looks amazing!” Steven gushes.

“Keep it in your pants,” Jake snaps back.

You reach for a parachute, but Marc’s white gloved hand stops you.

“I can fly you in,” he offers through the mask. 

“You told me no flying last month!” You protest.

“I didn’t know you were an Avenger last month.”

“Bad call, mate.”

“Oh, so you thought I was fragile before?” You tease, not really mad at the man.

His mask peels away so he can tilt his head and shoot you an amused glare.

“You’re in range!” The agent calls back.

You turn and plant a kiss on Marc’s lips, then punch a button. The door opens slowly with a cold rush of air. You wrap your arms around his strong body, take a deep breath, and together you jump from the plane into free fall. His cape catches like a parachute part way down, guiding you through the clouds lower and lower until the skyline is in view.

Smoke rises from burning buildings, the wreckage of a city that has again become a battle ground.

“Shit,” Marc whispers. “We’re gonna have to stop having technology free dates.”

“Yeah,” you reply, only half paying attention, too busy scanning the ground for your fellow Avengers. It’s pure chaos on the ground, a complete and utter disaster, but then, through the smoke… “There!”

You point Marc in the direction of a bright flash of blue and white, and he angles you toward the ground. The comm link in your ear begins to crackle and finally beeps a connection. You were right.

“-end up here? We’re supposed to be on vacation!” The voice of Bucky Barnes fills your ear at the same moment the bright red, white, and blue wings of Sam Wilson reappear. “Sam, what the fuck is in the sky?”

That would be Marc.

“Good morning, Captain America,” you smile down at the small figures of your friends on the ground.

“Oh thank god,” Sam replies. “Buck and I are a-” he grunts, “A bit outnumbered. We have to hold this street, or it will interfere with the wizards’ spell.”

You’re streaking toward the fight below, finally able to see the action for real. They are more than a bit outnumbered, the two men surrounded by humanoid robots armed to the teeth with every bit of weapons technology available. You drop to the ground at Bucky’s side, Marc landing next to you.

“You’re late,” Bucky calls. “Who’s the mummy?”

Marc shoots him a glare.

“Marc, don’t glare at Bucky Barnes! That’s-”

“I know who Bucky Barnes is Steven,” he answers silently.

Yeah, he knew Bucky Barnes. Well, Steven knew. At some point in their childhood, Steven realized he shared part of a name with Steven Grant Rogers and harbored a small fascination with the former Captain America ever since.

“That’s Moon Knight!” Sam’s wing decapitates a robot as he turns to look Marc up and down. “Read your briefing packets, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and returns to the fight. You draw two long knives, gifts from King T’Challa, and make short work of any robot that approaches. Marc hurls crescent darts, each finding their target. But he doesn’t let Steven front. Not yet at least.

Occasionally, he glances back at you, checking to make sure you’re alright. You are doing the same to him. You have never fought at his side before, but already you know that you would do it again and again.

“The sorcerers - not wizards, Sam - are working some spell in that building,” Bucky gestures vaguely behind him. “They can shut the whole AI down, but we have to keep these things out.”

“Androids!” Sam shouts as he jumps over one and buries his shield in it’s neck. “Androids controlled by aliens who can be stopped by wizards. The big three!”

“The big three?” Marc turns to Captain America.

“Don’t ask!” You and Bucky shout at the same time.

The four of you stand no chance of holding this street. Of course this couldn’t be a time-efficient spell, and the robots just keep coming, an endless supply of mindless soldiers puppeteered by some unknown force. A piece of shrapnel slashes your face, distracting you from the fight for a split second. It’s enough for a blow to land at your midsection, knocking the breath from you.

You pull the gun from your waist, SWORD issue with some advanced technology you don’t care to understand, and shoot. It’s not your preferred weapon, but it is necessary. Marc is by your side in an instant. He grabs you around the waist and wraps you in the white fabric of his cape. 

It’s just the two of you in this little cocoon. The rest of the world is forgotten as his mask falls away for a moment. The expression on his face is pure horror, lips pressed in a tight line, eyes murderous. His gaze is focused on the blood dripping down your cheek.

“I’m fine,” you insist and run your fingers across his nose and brow that is furrowed deeply, trying to soothe away those worry lines.

“I need Jake,” he breathes, a confession he rarely makes. “We need Jake.”

Jake will do anything to protect Marc and Steven and anything to protect you. It’s probably why you had never actually seen Jake suited up for a fight. He is the ‘whatever it takes’ part of the system, and all three of them are still afraid to show you that side.

“Okay,” you grip his upper arms. “It’s okay.”

His eyes flicker for a second, then his suit shifts, darkens to a midnight black that is more like tactical armor than Marc’s mummy wrappings. A bright white crescent moon shines on his chest; it matches the bright white of his cape. He tilts his head with a little smirk, and just like that Jake Lockley has joined the fray.

“Cap? Cap?” Someone is shouting through coms. “We’re coming to you. Do you copy?”

The voice is crackly, so you can’t make out exactly who it is.

You turn back to the fight, watching with bit of admiration and a lot of attraction as Jake expertly dispatches android after android.

“Did he change outfits mid fight?” Bucky punches a robot beside you.

“Sort of.”

You kick a robot across the head, stabbing one of your vibranium knives into it’s chest and immediately lashing out toward another. You glance up, and the world seems to slow around you. The battle is forgotten as you can only stare at Jake. He is fighting desperately, holding his own except...

Except behind him. A metallic arm is raising a heavy blade for a killing blow, metal arching toward his neck. You’re trying to scream his name. You are screaming his name, but it’s too late. You stab the android in front of you, but you will never make it. Jake’s suit will protect him from a lot, heal just about anything, but not decapitation.

Red flashes across your view, a bright flash hurtling through the air. A stick strikes the robot through the forehead, and the metal being collapses in a dead heap. Jake whips his head around as he realizes what almost happened. A figure in dark red drops from a nearby fire escape, grabs the stick from the robots sparking brain, and nods to you. He jumps into the fight at Jake’s side, the two men working together with an impressive synchrony for two strangers.

“How did you see that?” Jake shouts.

“I heard it,” Matt Murdock replies as he dispatches another android.

A few more minutes and the fighting finally stops. Another wave of robots is undoubtedly assembling nearby, but for now the team has a moment to breathe.

Jake’s mask falls away as he studies Daredevil. His eyes linger on the upper half of Matt’s face, noticing how his eyes are completely obscured by the dark red of his mask. You sprint to Jake’s side, wanting to reach for his hand, hold him, kiss him, feel that he is alive, but you restrain yourself. Your relationship is a secret, and for now you want to keep it that way.

“So this is the boyfriend?” Matt asks.

Your relationship is not a secret.

“How-” you start to question how Matt could possibly know that you had a boyfriend, let alone that this was him.

“You started smelling different a few months ago,” he explains. “It’s him. His scent is all over you.”

“Is there a better way to say that then ‘his scent is all over you’? Tone down the creepy… vibes? Vibes? Is that the word?” 

“Give up on the modern slang, Buck,” Sam makes a face and pats his partners’ shoulder mockingly.

You plant a kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he brushes his hand across your fingers to tell you that he is okay. You watch him and Daredevil with interest, hoping Jake might find a friend in the hero who protected his city with the same ferocity and passion as Jake protected Steven, Marc, and you.

“What’s up with the little horns, el diablo?” Jake asks. “What are you the hero of? Hell?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, and it’s Daredevil actually.”

Jake shoots you a glance then shifts his gaze back to Matt. A smile fills his features, a genuine one, and a second later the same expression appears on Matt’s face. You let out a heavy sigh of relief as they slip into easy conversation and you turn back to Sam and Bucky.

“You and Moon Knight, huh?” Sam frowns. “Guess Spidey was right.”

As if summoned by his name, the mysterious masked hero drops from the sky.

“Hey you guys! There’s another group heading our way.”

He starts to turn to Cap, notices Jake and does a double take to stare at the white costumed man, everyone else forgotten. Jake looks at him completely unimpressed.

“Oh my god, you’re Moon Knight!” Spider-Man’s voice has a youthfulness that always surprises you. “I love you! I wanted a cape because of you, but I gave up the idea pretty quick. I mean not in New York right? Handsy people. It would never have lasted. Wow! Mr. Knight, you are so cool.”

“Mr. Knight,” Steven tries out the name “I like that.”

“I hate it,” Marc replies.

“Well that seems like your problem don’t it? I’m keeping it. You can be Moon Knight. I’ll be Mr. Knight.”

“Marc, right?” Spidey asks, and you can practically see the mischief forming in the boys’ mind at his well-meaning mistake.

“I’m Jake.”

“Sorry! Jake-”

Jake’s expression changes, the suit shifting with him.

“Oops, Steven now,” Steven grins.

“O-Okay, Steven,” Spider-Man tries to keep up.

The suit changes as Marc fronts.

“Marc again,” he teases, messing with the young hero.

“Oh,” that catches Spidey off guard. “Nice to meet you, Marc.”

“Actually, Jake now.”

“Leave him alone, you three,” you glower at Jake but have to fight back a laugh.

You thanked any god you could think of that Spider-Man had been there with his goofy remarks and joking attitude to make it easier for Marc, Steven, and Jake to show off this particular skill set.

“Sorry, love.”

That’s Steven.

He adjusts his white suit jacket and grins at Spider-Man, ““You know, the cape is actually really overrated, kid.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” he lowers his voice and puts extra emphasis on the ‘man.’

“More like Spider-Kid,” Jake mutters.

Steven ignores his alter and nods conspiratorially to Spider-Man. He gives him a thumbs up like they just shared a secret.

“Figure out how to really punch criminals yet?” Daredevil snarks, tossing an arm across Spider-Man’s shoulders affectionately.

“I’m not beating the shit out of people,” he protests.

“It’s more efficient.”

“Whatever you say ‘really good lawyer.’”

You observe their interaction with some interest. Had Matt defended whoever was in the Spider-Man suit? No time for that now though, you realize as a mechanical whirring fills the air. You take a defensive stance at Steven’s side, Bucky to your right. Cap and Spidey leap into the air. Matt stands beside Steven.

Sam looks down at his makeshift team then out at the approaching mechanical army. They’re not much, but they’ll do.

“Avengers…”

--

A/N: I left this open for a part 3. Not sure if I’ll write it, but I do think a 3rd part to wrap it all up and let the system meet some other Avengers would be fun! Let me know if you want added to my general Moon Knight tag list!

Tag List: @love-on-the-murder-scene @bookfrog242 @irethepotato @graciexmarvel @simonsbluee @nagemasstuff @whovian378 @cringingmemeries @eerievixen @velyssaraptor

Other Tags: @bored-as-hell-666​ @teenageranchpsychicwagon @yanelimerida @winterwitch107 @tachibubu @eiressmurdock087 @natalieisfreeziing @thehuntresswolf @isnt-itstrange​ @dearlawdimasimp​ @multi-fandoms-of-madness

[trutrustories]

Bad fighter Mobius M. Mobius is the best kind of Mobius M. Mobius, Actually.

I already loved Mobius more than most of the MCU characters before episode 6 came out, but THAT scene in Ravonna´s Office was really game changer for me. Until then I was actually sure, that this man is a great fighter. Because HOW THE FUCK COULD HE NOT BE, RIGHT? I mean...

he looks so sure of himself, He´s going on those missions with trained hunters all the time, he´s fearless! And then Ravonna says: “even with that, you´re of no danger to me” And I was like: Ha! keep dreaming girl He´ll show you! And Mobius was like: “Is that what you think? Let´s see..” And I was like: Yeeees that´s my boyyyyy!!!”

And then Ravonna was like...

Mobius in the air in like a split of second. And I was like 

But Mobius freaking smiled and was like: “Yeah you were right”

ok. OK. HE´S MY FUCKING FAVOURITE NOW. THERE IS NO ONE BETTER THEN HIM SORRY.  Suddenly I was lost. I was blown away. It was HE BETTER STAYS IN MCU FOREVER OR I WILL SCREAM type of feeling. So let me get this straight. He can´t fight. He probably knows that he is not a good fighter, and he...  HOLY SHIT. THE WHOLE SERIES IS SO MUCH BETTER!!! .... As much as I love the idea of strong Mobius with long hair and daggers, looking for Loki through entire universe… I´m not sure, if I really want to see that in canon. I just love this cute and non-combatant version of Mobius too much, I´m sorry! Let me explain my weird brain please: we have lots of strong heroes in MCU – those who are great fighters, or those who had to learn how to fight.   The one thing I always loved about Iron man was the fact, that he really needed his brilliant brain, his technology (suit) and bravery to fight. And in the end he was the hero who saved them all. I mean… yeah. There are side-kicks, like Happy Hogan, or Luis (Ant man´s best friend) and I LOVE them! But none of them has got as much screen time and importance, as Mobius. When I think about what I love so much about him and his dynamic with Loki, there is always this one thing that prevails: one of them is an incredibly strong but also very careful god (not when he´s drunk though) who uses a lots of strategies and plans, while the other is a tiny man in a suit who can´t fight shit but runs into the throat of a danger every chance he get and no one can´t stop him. just look at him!!!

He goes on missions with these trained hunters to just look around for clues and has no concerns about potentional harm whatsoever.

And he even finds the time to stand up for normal people and be kind to them in the process:

Once Loki has no collar, on his neck he could break all Mobius´s limbs in a matter of seconds if he wanted to, but Mobius is completely sure he has nothing to worry about around his Loki. He´s not scared of ANYTHING, especially  of Loki variants. Like EVER! :D

let me break it down in detail for ya. I made a list: When they are taking Loki on his first mission outside, Loki asks, if no one is concerned that he is going to has his magic back...

well, maybe someone actually is concerned by that but it sure as hell isn´t Mobius. He just simply says that he could get Loki to Time keepers if he won´t try anything and like... this one line is getting on Loki so much, that Loki even tries to use it few moments latter xD And here is the best scene ever: 

LOKI: “we can go anywhere!” 

MOBIUS: “I´m not taking you for a stroll along the promenade, much less an apocalypse” FEW MOMENTS LATTER:

Hang on. Wait. So you telling me, he took this man outside without  permission, without backup (you know, hunters, that actually CAN fight), right to the apocalypse, knowing that Loki can use his powers anytime, however he wants.  It´s just...  God. I love him!!! And then he just hands him the daggers like it´s no big deal!

Like are we all aware this man has no any super powers, no big strength, nor any impressive fighting skills and he is willing to give him daggers for a mission, where this god is capable of magic and everyone else in team ECCEPT mobius is at least able to fight????? And he just has that small bulletproof vest,  and a raincoat and he chats with Loki in a rain like it was a fucking another apocalyptic DATE?

Ok. Let´s jump to the episode four He goes and persuades Ravonna to let him interrogate Sylvie and he is straight up arguing with her, even when he´s told how dangerous Sylvie is. This man LOVES danger!!! 

Once he has doubts he  decides to risk it all and  swaps TemPads right behind Ravonnas back. 

And he is watching it OUT LOUD in a place where anyone can show up at anytime! 

no but serously. This is a face of a man who is EXCITED for a dangerous adventures with Loki. Yeah, lets bring this whole place down together! 

And then we have this scene. Mobius really has a nerves to pull “ ha ha I had to take it by mistake” line right there. 

But once he understand he´s gonna die, he just take his fate with bravery and talks to Ravonna about life he really desires. 

And remember that time Ravonna warned him about this variant and how dangerous she is?  He casually saves her, just like that. No big deal. 

He even has a time to make teasing notes about how  Sylvie should be more careful jumping to a strangers car like that and how she really is one of the Lokis. 

And after he saves her, he manage to apologize to her  and make her to like him. EVERY FREAKING LOKI LIKES HIM! - that has to be his super power I swear And then Sylvie is like: well actually let´s go back there, I think It´s the best idea ever.  And mobius is like:  What back to the angry cloud? - oh great. fuck this why the hell not. Lets do it. 

so... while Loki and Sylvie are getting closer, lets show us, how literally every Loki likes Mobius (like not even alligator loki wants to hurt him, even when Mobius suggests that he is a liar I CAN´T) And just random (AGAIN) during the chat  saving Loki and Sylvie (without even knowing) when he inspires Classic Loki to change. 

He offers free tickets straght to the TVA to kid Loki, classic Loki and an alligator. I mean... What a LEGEND. 

when he gets there he just knock on Ravonna´s door and is like - lets talk about it xDD

And he isn´t even suprised to lose that fight. He makes himself comfortable on the floor: yeah you were right. Here we go again. Just prune me already, doesn´t matter, I have my Lokis there anyway.

But make no mistake, I don´t think he is stupid, or naive. That is the most fascinating thing about him.  He is brilliant. He can makes great plans (it surely as hell was him, who come up with the high school scheme) He is a great  investigator, he  is familiar with psychology very well, he know how to manipulate people just as well, as Loki. He can  interrogate flawlessly (when jealousy is not involved) And when he woke up in the Void, he was able to escape certain death, choose a car and drive around looking for Loki - and eventualy save Sylvie. He is a very capable man. I dont think he shouldn´t have any power. Like - he has his inteligence, his knowledge of all  languages  (I want to see him chat with Groot please), his knowledge of psychology,  knowledge  of how TVA works... He can have his pruning stick, TemPad, bulletproof vest and a raincoat for what I care. but most importantly he has his kind heart, love of adrenaline, and he is a freaking Loki expert. And let´s not forget, every Loki loves him. Also, he has a damn luck as well :D It´s like - Loki always ends up loosing, so Mobius  is fine  - even when he should be dead about million times already. (one man´s void is another man´s piece of cake) So when they are togheter. There is no way for Loki to actually die. Not by his side xD So I don´t think he needs to become great fighter. I believe, that this is a hundred times better. Creators should explore this dynamic to it´s bottom before they make him fighter with super powers or something like that. ( I wouldn´t mind long hair though)  I´m sorry. But I just really love that. I love how small and fragile he is, but he wont be scared of anything. And now he´s Loki best friend (while having masive crush on him, let's be precise ) So just imagine all those amazing scenes that could come with that.  Imagine there is some very dangerous Loki variant that everyone has problem to deal with, and Mobius is gonna be like - you´re so cute guys, nice try. Now let me talk to him, will ya.  Imagine some big battle where our Loki and Mobius are fighting side by side with Avengers and Loki is using all his potential, and he is so stunning in his leather but he can´t focus very well, because few metters from him is a small, fragile man in a suit just using TemPad an afucking pruning stick. And Loki didn´t even want him there in the first place. So they are arguing like married couple right then and there and every avenger AND enemy in  close distance just can´t believe these two are real.  also Loki saves Mobius by taking him in his arms right on time and running to safety with him

Maybe this post is  completely useless and has  incredibly bad english like every text I write, but I don´t care. I just wanted to loudly  appreciate this mans non-fighting skills and his hilariously huge courage. End of the post.  have nice day! Bye!