#a fucking warthog or something just to confuse people

[liquidstar]

i wanna preface this by saying im not big into furry stuff but im big into oc stuff, so sorry to all the furries if i sound like a poser. but i think if you have a human oc theres gotta be a difference between what their fursona would be (from the pov of you, their creator) and what it actually is (what they would chose). do you understand what i mean? theres a big difference between their fursona and your animal version of them.

[lackadaisydreamer]

Midnight City pt4

He rummaged through the ash tray to find a cigarette, the end of a cigar, anything. Luck as always was on his side, and Jackpot found himself a cigar he had left earlier hardly even half done. He must have been in a rush when he put it out. His face was illuminated by a very ornate silver lighter, the glow of the embers on the end of the pungent cigar was the only light in the room before he leaned over and turned on a single small desk lamp. “ Who the hell were they?” He hissed. Only a single other person sat in the room, a woman in a tight trench coat with a tall collar. The very night sky seemed to have been woven into the fabric, her face hidden under a wide hat.  “If you don’t know you really are a fool Biggs.” Snow lifted her face, offering only a smile of pearly white teeth framed in glossy black lips. “You’ve been throwing the Midnight Crew to the dogs to throw them off your scent and you didn’t think that would bite you in the ass eventually?.” She crooned. Biggs growled, only to have her suddenly appear behind him, leaning against his chair. “I told you, if you took this path you would regret it...” He slammed his fist on the table, making wood splinter against the walls. A pistol aimed at her head with a snarling warthog hovering his finger over the trigger. 

“You really do think you’re invincible...I would love to find out.” He mused. “I wonder if the world would split like this bullet against your skull, or if it would simply go with a pop like a bubble...” She didn’t even give him the luxury of turning her head to look at him when suddenly his cigar was in her hand. 

“I’m surprised you smoke such a cheap brand...” She flicked it away then walked towards the door. He threw down the gun and sunk back into his chair. He was starting to wonder if she was his prisoner, or if this was the other way around. 

They all sat in silence, Slick driving and gripping the wheel tight. He had so many questions, what had Biggs wanted with Ms. Paint? Why were the Felt working for someone? He was getting confused, and angrier by the second. He looked in the backseat, Hearts was lifting a finger out of curiosity. Poking Ms. Paint’s cheek. “Don’t do that you moron!!” He barked, then quickly froze. Watching as Paint turned over slowly. Slick lowered his voice, wondering why his heart was beating so fast. “ Don’t wake her up, and dammit you stupid ape you can’t just poke people in the face!” Boxcars tapped his hands together sheepishly. 

“She’s just...so squishy looking.” Slick facepalmed. 

“Fucking hell Box...You don’t call women squishy!” Slick allowed himself one look, just one look. He felt his chest flutter as he quickly looked away. “She does look squishy...” He thought, driving once more in silence until they reached a manor that was white and pink with beautiful fountains and rose bushes everywhere. Slick hopped out as Deuce struggled to undo his seatbelt, kicking Droog to wake him up and help Clubs. Hearts gently tapped Ms. Paint’s shoulder, quickly backing up as if she were a bomb as she slowly sat up. 

“O-oh!” She called out startled, looking around at the four men as the events of the night quickly slid back into her memory. Slick pushed his way past Hearts. “Hello, thank you...” She stuttered, hesitantly taking Slick’s arm as he offered it to her. Droog smirked, holding a very tired Clubs in front of him as he hiccupped and mumbled something about his stomach hurting. Hearts gave Slick a thumbs up as soon as he was out of Ms. Paint’s line of sight as Droog lowered his hat over his face to cover his laughter. Slick felt his face burn as he glared at all three of them. Ms. Paint took a deep breath. 

“I would be happy to give you all a place to sleep tonight...I assure you that this is as safe as you can get, it’s very private, and has a state of the art security system.” Before she even reached the steps the large doors were thrown open and they were greeted by an elderly prospitian in a very well made suit running down the steps frantically. 

“Mistress! Madame, heavens to Betsy!” He composed himself, straightening his back and offering a polite bow before addressing Ms. Paint again. “It’s all over the news! A gas leak at the casino...Mr. Biggs hasn’t made any statements, and you were nowhere to be seen- GOOD HEAVENS!” He suddenly noticed the four standing there, looking at them with surprise. “My sincerest apologies. I was unaware that...we had company.” He looked at Ms. Paint with confusion. She sighed, feeling a massive migraine coming on. 

“Clyde a moment please do forgive me...” She let go of Slick’s hand, making her way up the steps and motioning for them all to follow. “It has been a very long night, and I am sure that ALL of you have many many questions and honestly so do I but that can wait until morning...please.” Clyde bowed, leading the gentlemen inside. 

It was well lit, with marble and rich velvet as far as the eye could see. It was decorated in a very flattering dusty pink. Ms. Paint took off her gloves, Clyde seeing her in the light froze. She had bruises everywhere, her silk dress was torn and her hat was missing. “What on earth...Ms. Paint?” He was flabbergasted. “Did Biggs even see to you when the explosion happened?” Ms. Paint straightened her back. 

“I will say this dear Clyde, I don’t want to to worry you.” Her voice was warm, but when turned her sweet face was cold and even made shivers run down Slick’s spine. “That fat bastard, as well as his brainless accomplices are not to be let anywhere near this place or so help me I will tear his stupid moustache from his gaunt face myself; and shove it so far up his ass? He will cough it up, and spit it out!” Her voice slowly built as she spoke, ending of with a sharp shout that made Slick raise is brows. What was this feeling? He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Boxcars leaned down. 

“She’s good with words, you should take pointers.” He narrowed his eyes, cause...he was right of course. Clyde stood stiffly, his own face twitching. 

“You mean to tell me Ms. Paint that he is the cause for all this?” Ms. Paint took a deep breath. 

“yes Clyde, but really I will not be discussing this further...” She rubbed her face. “I have a splitting headache as it is so if you don’t mind, please give this wonderful gentlemen anything they need.” She gave them all a kind smile, taking Slick’s hand and looking into his eyes. “I truly can’t thank you all enough...goodnight.” Slick watched her walk up a staircase, as if hypnotised as the rest of the crew followed Clyde down a hallway. Droog looked down at his ankle, cursing. His white pants were bright red and his leg was aching. The bullet wound, he had almost forgotten. The alcohol had masked the pain but it was wearing off. His entire leg groaned in protest, he leaned against the wall as the pain shot up his body and he slid to the floor. 

[riathedreamer]

You asked for it: live thoughts from Ria and @creatrixanimi​ watching RvB Zero.

So, after having a movie night the day before (third movie night in a week, actually, we are very productive) watching Neil Breen movies and “Cool Cat”, it was now time to touch upon Zero. Sadly, Zero does not belong in the “so bad it’s good” category, but alas, Ria had to spoil Haley’s innocence.

This is not a proper edited review, but just snippets of our live reaction while watching the thing together. We are not drunk, but this continued way past midnight for Ria, so maybe her brain isn’t fully functioning. Also, Ria is a potty mouth because cursing is easy when it’s not your native language. Enjoy.

Episode 1:

Ria: I can’t figure out if they were trying to do a Grif and Simmons parallel with those two random guards talking outside, the ones with the Wash retconning.

Haley: Their armor doesn’t cover their noses. 

Ria: That’s gotta be cold. Frostbitten noses.

...

Haley: There is no exposition. Like, it feels like the writers had their idea and know what is going on, but we don’t so it just feels weird and random. It feels like a Marvel movie.

Ria: Is that a compliment? I haven’t watched Marvel.

Haley: Not a good one.

 ...

Ria: This episode isn’t that bad in itself. But it’s just there to establish that the OG characters can’t beat this new villain, but the new guys can, and, urgh.

 ...

Episode 2:

[The shot focuses on One’s behind.]

Ria’s dirty mind: Ass.

 ...

Ria: STOP CALLING HIM DAVID.

...

Ria: I like this character, but I don’t remember his name.

Haley: Raymond.

Ria: This is why we need a name system like with the Freelancers and states. Should’ve just been numbers all the way through. Except Eleven, you fucking whore.

 ...

Haley at the sight of Raymond’s phone: It’s so big.

Ria: It’s the future. I can believe it.

 ...

Ria: Here’s the thing driving me crazy. Axel is a normal name in Denmark. But like, only old people use it. I know two Axels and they are both older than eighty. So that’s when I think of when I see Axel.

 ...

[After the whole training montage where we are introduced to the characters, we are still confused.]

Ria: I can’t remember their names.

Haley: Well, they didn’t show all of them. They didn’t show One.

Ria: They did!

Haley: They did?

Ria: Wow. So we got all that tell and no show, and we are still confused.

 ...

Haley: When it comes to genre, it’s actually not that bad with the narrated tell and don’t show. If it wanted to be a cheesy/bad action movie, that’s a trope that’s used relatively frequently in the genre. It’s a bad action movie. But it’s not RvB. It’s kinda like a particularly bad Marvel movie.

Ria: You’re really not selling me on the Marvel movies tonight.

 ...

Ria: I know I’m just a sucker for Joe, but I keep thinking of s15. Like, here they just use the files as a cheap way to introduce the characters. But like, in s15, Dylan just read out loud Grif’s file, and it was not to introduce him, but like, to show the complexity of the characters and go against the files? I don’t know, it just seems way cooler now.

 ...

[After the whole “what’s East’s deal” scene, we were so confused. Literally paused for five minutes trying to figure who was whose dad and why and what. How many daughters did Axel have? And where are they? We were just lost. Future Haley: Him waxing poetic about his daughters while watching the two girls in his team train confused me like I thought he was talking about East and One and couldn’t count sdfghjk. Future Ria: I’d even watched the show before and I was still confused.]

Ria: I can’t figure out if they’re too fast or if we’re just stupid.

Haley: It’s like I’m trying to remember the details but it all slips through my fingers.

Ria: The whole Zero experience is to feel too old for this shit.

 ...

Ria: STOP FUCKING CALLING HIM DAVID

 ...

One: This is how it’s done, grandma.

Ria: Fuck you.

 ...

Episode 3:

Haley: People would like it if they love dumb action shows. It works as a mindless action show.

 ...

Haley: So this is a temple?

Ria: I hate the worldbuilding. Is this the same planet as before? Like, Chorus had temples, but it also had lore about it. Is this the same sort of temples?

Haley: So shouldn’t this temple have its own key? Why do they need to include Tucker? It makes no sense for the temple to require a totally different sword from a different planet.

Ria: So they could beat him up ‘cause OG characters are weak now.

 ...

Haley: I don’t like the training scenes. They are so long and boring.

Ria: This is like the third episode where they are training. Holy shit.

 ...

Haley: It’s not that bad. But if you like Red vs. Blue, it’s not something for you. They aren’t really comparable.

Ria: I just don’t understand what they wanted to continue for Red vs. Blue. Like, it’s not the worldbuilding or the plot or the characters. I just don’t get it.

 ...

Haley: Raymond is the best character.

Ria: I like Raymond.

Haley: He’s RvB. He should be the main character.

 ...

Ria: Did East just use the “I’m not like the other (girls)” line?

Haley: I don’t like her. She’s a brat. Why did Carolina have to apologize? They were just training, this is something she’s gonna have to deal with on a daily basis lmao.

Ria: Didn’t Carolina have a cast on her arm? It’s gone now. I can’t keep up with the timeline. So, she’s healed, but how long was Wash gone? They are so vague about everything. Worldbuilding, timeline, motivations.

 ...

Ria: …Did Carolina just say she’d suit up? While wearing a full armor suit?

 ...

[And this is where the cursed part takes place. To talk, we’d often pause the thing. Here, I randomly paused during the introduction for Starlight Laboratories. There’s a desk in the shot. With a fucking marker on it.]

Haley: That’s a Crayola marker. That’s a Crayola marker on the table.

Ria: Glad we can appreciate the details by pausing.

[Haley then missed the entire Axel flashback scene because she was too busy looking up pictures of Crayola markers. When this is revealed, Ria lost it for like, three minutes]

Haley: I had that marker as a kid. 

Ria: So 4/5 stars for the marker?

Haley: They were supposed to smell like blueberries or something but they just smelled like chemicals.

Ria: This is the most excited we’ve been about Zero so far.

[Future Haley: I was literally laugh-crying you dont understand. This was the best part of the show.]

...

Episode 4:

Ria: They all have super powers. It’s so weird.

Haley: I keep thinking they are gonna explain stuff. But they don’t. So I’m just confused.

 ...

[Haley has now brought forth all the markers in her room to find a Crayola one. She drops them all on the floor. Ria loses it again.] [Future Haley update: I found a yellow one it smells like lemons :)]

 ...

Ria: They are all glowing and have super powers. It’s weird. Like, I know we had super powered armor before but that was all connected to AIs. I don’t get how all of this works. They don’t have AIs.

 ...

[We both agree that we enjoy Raymond and Tiny. Bless them.]

 ...

Ria: It’s weird. The dialogue is so oblivious, it comments on its own mistakes. Like, Carolina just acknowledged Wash has had a computer in his head before. But they don’t acknowledge the whole canonical lore about his trauma regarding computers in his head and why he’d hate this. Same with the name David. They just noticed that it’s his first name and that’s how they’d show how close Carolina is with him, but they didn’t acknowledge the canon lore that Wash dislikes people using his first name.

 ...

Episode 5:

Haley: Why didn’t they use Locus’ sword instead. It’d make more sense. He’s the one travelling around planets and wanting to help people?? 

Ria: What’s the worldbuilding here? Is Tucker on the same planet? Is this Earth? Chorus?

 ...

Haley: Gotta love it when they make Tucker hit on teenagers.

Ria: Oh god why did they make East 18.

 ...

Haley: They should have done something with the Warthog song, even if that’s a Red Team thing.

Ria: I miss Red Team.

 ...

Ria: Wait, so if these three swords are connected, why can the two first ones move by themselves and they have like super powers connected to them? When Tucker’s sword is just boring? They didn’t even make a joke about how the two new swords are longer than Tucker’s.

 ...

Tucker: I’m fine, I have my sword.

Ria: That line is so tragic in hindsight.

 ...

One: It’s Tucker. He is dead.

Carolina: Oh my god.

Haley: *laughs her ass off*

 ...

Haley: I don’t understand why anyone is doing anything.

Ria: Your brain is still thinking about that fucking marker.

 ...

Episode 6:

Ria: The dialogue did it again! Wash just said “amazing medical tech”. Like, he points out a plot hole. Because that amazing tech can heal brain injuries and bring people back from death, but East had to be tortured for years to heal her vague illness? Like, why couldn’t their amazing tech fix that.

 ...

[While watching the design of the temple.]

Ria: It looks like those are just plates glued to the wall. Dinner is served.

 ...

Haley: There is no logical reason why they brought in Tucker. His sword isn’t even from this planet.

Ria: To lure in fans.

 ...

Haley in a very sad voice: The speech wasn’t good.

 ...

Episode 7:

Ria: Is all of this happening on the same planet? They keep driving. The worldbuilding is so weird. At least earlier RvB made a joke about how they could just drive everywhere. This is like a big desert, a training base, laboratory, city and temples and Tucker’s workplace, and I don’t know if it’s even on the same planet.

 ...

Ria: Diesel is just standing there waiting while they outfit Carolina.

Haley: It’s like a video game.

 ...

Ria: The temple’s walls are filled with runes.

Haley: It feels like a free/bought asset. It doesn’t even look like the temples on Chorus. It looks like something in WoW or something like that.

Ria: It’s driving me mad. I can read runes! Imagine a big boss fight and the freaking alphabet is plastered on the walls. That’s what I’m looking at.

 ...

Haley: Zero is such a boring villain. It’s not interesting when we don’t know what this “power” actually is or what he wants to do with it.

 ...

Ria: That’s the helmet Spencer wore.

Haley: Oh god I forgot about him.

Ria: So did the writers.

Haley: Spencer should have been the real villain.

 ...

Haley: *sees the random model of the temple guardian alien* I miss Santa.

 ...

Episode 8:

Ria: The aliens are just dancing in the background while Carolina is fighting Diesel.

Haley laughing: Oh my god, they are. They are just jumping up and down.

 ...

Ria: So, the villain just turned overpowered, and the solution is that Raymond just flicks a switch we haven’t heard about and now the heroes are overpowered too?

Haley: It just makes them shiny. And like... they don’t even use the “power”, they don’t fight him with their powers which only some of them have, they just shoot their ordinary guns at him while doing unnecessary flips.

Ria: I just remembered Church’s dick switch. That had more dramatic buildup.

 ...

Axel: You’re too cocky for that.

Ria’s dirty brain: Cock.

 ...

Post Zero thoughts:

[Ria returns from bathroom break and Haley is proudly showing off her marker over video cam.]

Haley: There was too much going on so I just focused on the marker.

Ria: So how many stars would you give it?

Haley: It’s really bad.

Ria: How many stars for marker representation?

Haley: Three out of five. It was only there for a second.

 ...

Haley: In the beginning, it wasn’t that bad. It was dumb, but also fun and sorta cool. But then it just went on for too long and they didn’t explain anything properly and it stopped being fun really fast. But I can see why some people might enjoy it. Like, you’d love it for its action but only that. Not for plot and/or the character writing.

Ria: I think my biggest problem is the worldbuilding. They kept everything so vague because they didn’t want to connect, not really. Like, where is this happening? When? Why are Carolina and Wash there? Like, the motivations for all the characters were so vague as well.

 ...

Haley: Raymond was great. He had personality and some good lines. And he felt like RvB. Like, he used his brain and actually got shit done, but he also wasn’t over-powered. He followed a similar character arc to what the Reds and Blues had. He sucks at fighting but he’s efficient and smart in a practical way with his rocket launcher. He does the most and he doesn’t stop being a goofball! Even Zero was focused on stopping him the most at the end. And he didn’t need to do any stupid flips.

 ...

Haley: The borrowed assets annoyed me. It ended up looking stupid, like, the temple felt more like fantasy than science fiction. And nothing like Chorus. And normally, RvB doesn’t have to worry about being cohesive because all of the designs are from Halo so it all makes sense and it’s connected. But this is just so random it feels distracting, I feel like this is a big reason people felt that Zero was so jarring… but on a subconscious level. It just felt off and there was no cohesive design. Also everything looked like it was made for video games and not modified at all for the show.

 ...

Haley: Honestly I was optimistic at first but then I got confused really fast and it kept getting worse because it was so fast. They didn’t explain stuff properly or at all. Like, they made it too big. Should have been smaller. I thought going with the “Starlight Labs is evil and needs to go down” plot would have been A LOT better and would have tied together multiple aspects of the story that the temple plot didn’t.

Ria: If I had the power which I don’t, I dunno, but I if the main point was to introduce new characters, I’d keep them tied to lore and worldbuilding we already know. So we don’t get so confused and it doesn’t feel so disconnected. Like, I’m still in love with the idea that it should have been Carolina on Chorus dealing with these soldiers who have been fighting all their lives and now don’t have to do that anymore. But maybe Chorus still needing an army, and that’s why she is training it. I don’t know, but like, familiar, build on what we know. And then they wouldn’t be superpowered, but like, just competent-ish but normal soldiers and we’d get to know them better, but I just think Zero just wanted them to be these super cool soldiers even better than Carolina so they could pull off all the fight scenes. ‘Cause it’s all Zero has going for it. The fight scenes. It’s its strength and weakness ‘cause they sacrificed everything else to look cool. And it does. But it’s boring and there is nothing else going on.

 ...

Ria: I’m still so annoyed about the temples. Why are they there? Like, on Chorus it was a big thing, also plotwise, but it had lore connected to it and the worldbuilding explained it. So, where are these temples? A different planet, right? Is it the same aliens? Are people just cool with the temples? Why haven’t they been explored before. Chorus made sure to explain all of that.

 ...

Haley: The West and East scene-

Ria: Feast.

Haley: Confused me. ‘cause West didn’t really regret anything. He just said why he did it. And then all of the sudden East forgave him and rejoined the team. It was so weird. He doubled down on the thing she hated him for so much I was like “Wow he’s kinda an asshole” and then all of a sudden she was on his side? What?

 ...

Haley: Zero does its job if you want action and nothing else. And it’s not RvB. Don’t watch it if you like RvB. And I just want to acknowledge that we are nitpicking. Quite a bit. I’ll admit that. But, I wouldn’t nitpick the other RvB seasons the same way because the old RvB never took itself seriously the way Zero did.

Ria: I agree. We are nitpicking. But like, that’s why we have the movie nights.

Haley: But we are also allowed to criticize it. You can do that with any season. And with the other seasons, you could nitpick it and you can find stuff you don’t like, but there are always stuff you do like or that other people like. I just can’t find anything about Zero that I like. Besides Raymond.

Ria: Yeah. Like, I really love 15. And it had so many flaws people pointed out. And when it comes to criticism and Zero, I just don’t see many points about why people like it. They are allowed to do that though. But, like, we could have a movie night where we watch the Chorus seasons and we’d nitpick so much because we both have issues with it, but there is still so much stuff we’d still like.

Haley: I like Raymond though. He’s like Grimmons lovechild.

Ria: No. Fuck you. Don’t put that in my brain.

 ...

Haley: Raymond being in this… I want to say it feels like the Freelancers seasons but if Grif was part of the team or something. But that’s just “Hit and Run”. *laughs*

Ria: NO! That’s cursed. Shut up. Also, the Freelancers were way better written.

Haley: And those seasons made better sense.

Ria: And like, the Freelancer seasons did the thing with change of tone and have these new and super cool characters and fight scenes. But they kept half of the seasons to be around the Reds and Blues so we still had the humor and the dumbasses, and Zero just, it didn’t connect.

 ...

Haley: So, I have some thoughts on Zero.

Ria: I know, you fuck, I had to write them all down by hand.

Haley: I like bad movies, actually, but Zero didn’t stay fun, so no, I didn’t enjoy it.

 ...

Ria: Do you forgive me for making you watch Zero?

Haley: Yeah.

Ria: What should we watch next?

...

Also, Haley dressed up her dog for the event and you all deserve to see her:

[imperiuswrecked]

Doom #7 review, spoiler alert, and also I could care less about the damn black hole on the moon, so just know this is about character "development" etc of Doom

Love this cover btw

Ok so first Doom arrives on his big bear and I love a dramatic man.

Second, thank god his ugly warthog mask is just something he uses for special occasions and I will never have to see it again.

I actually really love Boris's granddaughter and will defend her with my life. Doom stop scaring her with your ugly ass mask.

This is just 😬😬😬. The Monk is from the same Tibetan Monk group who taught Doom way back in the day and just having him here is so ??? Like ngl I'm uncomfortable.

This is fucking hilarious.

Oh boy now this part.

Boris needs his beard back asap.

Boris knows Victor so damn well, and he knows how read him better than anyone.

Confirmation about Victor and Amara's kid not happening, which is honestly more than I expected bc I expected this plot baby to never have mentioned again.

Victor making Boris kneel??????? BORIS? THE MAN HE CARRIED AND TAKES CARE OF AND LOVES LIKE HIS OWN FATHER LITERALLY THE ONLY MAN HE TRUSTS THE MOST??? ok fine. Whatever. I'm just surprised there isn't a future au father waiting like those "kids" of "his" :/

Here. We. Fucking. Go.

I get two panels, small ones, for Kristoff and a whole freaking page for Zora.

I get Doom rejecting his SON. Whom he calls his SON before but it’s  "don't call me father" screw that. I waited so long and for what???? Like I am so confused because sometimes Cantwell is great but then this??? I just don’t understand why and like my mind is trying to say: ok Victor has some issues right now because of of the future au kids of his popping up all the time but honestly I just want the writer to stop pushing that fake family into the story and give me something good with Kristoff who has a much longer history with Victor.

I wanted them to speak but not like this, Victor is so cold to him, and like even when Kristoff wanted to be left alone and try to leave his dad through the courts even then Victor was like fighting for his son (in the wrong ways since Kristoff wanted to be free but in end it all worked out)

Ok so I am just pretty annoyed at Zora’s character at this point, I never really liked her but thought she was getting better written during this comic then with S/ott however her words of “I’m not a slave” does... does she think Kristoff and Boris are slaves? Like wtf she is the one who worshipped Doom practically. Not a fan of how Victor is trusting her and treating her with more respect than his own family. 

I just think that if we took things she did: finding Victor, giving him the resolve to stop wandering about his castle in rags looking all sexy and tormented, standing by his side, being a champion of the people etc. and gave it to Kristoff it would have made more sense and it would have added more layers to Kristoff’s character imo, a way of them reconciling and seeing Kristoff stand up for his own people as well as furthering his relationship with his father and as heir to the throne. 

Gonna go ahead and skip the Dimitri stuff bc it’s pretty self explanator. Doom putting the fear of Doom into the man and then killing him off bc he was a threat to his throne. This scene tho... scars. I love Victor and his scars.

To conclude, fuck them future kids, I don’t care about them and I will never care about them and after waiting so long for Kristoff to come I feel both disappointment and anger because I should have known better than to think I would get justice for the character or heck even a whole page. ):

Cantwell’s writing is such a mixed bag of writing and this issue does not mesh with previous stuff. I hope the next issues are more satisfactory. Also stan Kristoff, the best boy ever who has never done anything wrong in his whole life.

[kenzieam]

Beauty and the Blackheart - Chapter Three

@jewels2876​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

************************************************************************

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut

************************************************************************

FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE POSTING OR NOT

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It was too much; his proximity, his scent, the heat he generated and most importantly, the feelings they all sparked in Lev. Ducking and spinning away at the same time, Lev all but launched herself away, her ass smacking against the far counter of the elevated desk.  She gripped the edge behind her and fought to control her breathing, staring at Bucky with a mix of fear and confusion.

What was it about Bucky that twisted her up in knots like this?

Bucky straightened, leaning against the opposite counter with much less urgency. Crossing his feet at the ankles, chains clinking, he folded his arms and regarded her.

“What is your problem?” She stuttered, still not even sure if her heart was racing because she was scared or because she was aroused.

Bucky tilted his head, staring at her with an intensity that made her skin burn. His eyes raked up from her feet to her face and he swallowed.

Although still dressed conservatively compared to her sister-in-law and the women who frequented Blackheart, Lev had made attempts to branch out her wardrobe since she’d started helping out at the shop. She hadn’t worn khakis or a pencil skirt in weeks and while the jeans Nat had urged her to buy when they’d gone shopping a few days before she’d had to leave felt painted on, Nat had only laughed at her and said they were ‘fitted’, cut to show off Lev’s curves, not hide them. Paired with Nat’s knee-high boots and one of Blackheart’s logoed tank-tops, Lev was dressed far more scantily than she ever had before and right now, she felt naked under Bucky’s scrutiny.

Her bare shoulders hadn’t seen the light of day in years, for Christ’s sake and you could even see the swell of the tops of her breasts.

She never showed cleavage. Never. Even her graduation dress had covered up to her neck. Lev wished she had her Blackheart’s hoody to throw on, but it was draped over the chair, at least five feet away.

Bucky licked his lips, then wiped at his mouth with a decadent slowness, as if savouring something. He opened his mouth to speak and Lev felt her control begin to snap.

With a musical tingle, the door to the shop opened and Steve stepped inside, breaking the thick tension in the air. Lev whirled towards him almost dementedly, ridiculously grateful for his distraction.

“Steve! Hey.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Bucky turn to face Steve as well, albeit much more calmly.

“Hi…. Everything alright?” Steve replied, eyes flicking between Bucky and Lev, brow raising in question.

“Never better, brother.” Bucky grunted then, before anyone could speak further, turned and disappeared into his room, the familiar thrash metal filling the air after a moment.

Steve stared after his friend for a beat before returning his focus to Lev. Silently he moved to stand behind the counter and put his hands on his hips.

“Was he bothering you?” There was a faint sadness in his voice, as if he was disappointed and Lev shook her head, deciding a half-truth was better than a full lie.

“No, he just did the most amazing tattoo on this woman, these incredible violets that looked so realistic, and her story…. It was so beautiful and sad. It was a memorial tattoo for her late husband and it just kind of hit me, you know?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, some of them do…. And Bucky’s really damned talented. It looked like a picture, right? Like you could just reach out and touch them?

Lev nodded back, almost giddy with relief that Steve seemed to have accepted her excuse. The last thing she wanted was to make trouble between lifelong friends. “Uh…” she clamoured for a change of topic. “You’re early but your 3 o’clock appointment mentioned that if you were able to start earlier to give him a call-”

“Sure,” Steve agreed, gifting her with a gentle smile. “I’ll give him a call.” He paused, scratching at his neck. “It’s looking like it’s going to be a slower day, so if you had anything you needed to do, or wanted to get out of here early-”

Lev almost felt guilty at how fast she agreed, but she was so goddamn twisted up inside right now, so fucking confused that she needed space and time to think, to try and sort through her head. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great. I was going to… yeah.”

Snatching her backpack and hoodie, Lev forced herself not to run out the door.

***************************************************************************

The music pounded, throbbing through the floor and Lev glanced around, so thoroughly out of her element that it was surreal, like a dream around her.

In the few days since Lev’s strange encounter with Bucky, she’d gone back to invisible with him. Whether Steve said anything she didn’t know, and didn’t have the balls to ask, but Bucky had returned to all but ignoring her. She couldn’t say whether she liked it anymore or not. There had been something, a warmth almost, while under his hypnotizing gaze that was gone again, and Lev was surprised to realize she missed it.

Now, she was wedged into a booth beside her brother, with Steve and Bucky across the table, a steady stream of girls parading by for the two of them to feast their eyes on. Bucky seemed to be dividing his time between paying attention to the girls and glowering at Lev, still not able to believe what for him seemed an outlandish claim, one Lev had let slip at the shop earlier when Clint was still trying to convince her to go with them.

“I’ve never been to a bar before.” Lev confessed, when Clint had commented on her obvious nerves.

“Wait, what?” Apparently, her complete lack of coolness was enough to break Bucky’s indifference to her, and he’d almost dropped the set of clamps he was setting in the autoclave.

Steve stepped closer, peering at her. “Really, Lev? Not once?”

Lev shook her head, regretting saying anything. Bucky’s glare burned like acid at the side of her face.

“I know I could never get you to come with me,” Clint replied. “But you never went once in university?”

Biting her lip, feeling like a thousand different kinds of fool, Lev shook her head again. “I was too busy studying.”

“Jesus,” Bucky grumbled, shutting and securing the autoclave. “Have you ever had any fun?”

Although this was as foreign an experience as Lev had ever had, even more so than her first cadaver class, she made a conscious effort to relax and pay attention to her surroundings. The white wine spritzer she’d ordered sweated in her hand and she’d barely made a dent in it, even though all three men were working their way through their second beer each.

When one of the girls, a willowy brunette, took the opportunity to perch in Bucky’s lap, throwing a covert catty glance at Lev as she did, Lev decided she needed a break.

“Gotta use the bathroom.” She elbowed her twin to move, scooting awkwardly along the seat, feeling like a warthog next to the potential model across from her. Of course, Bucky had to wrap his arm around the bimbo, his fingers toying idly with the bare skin of the woman’s back, and Lev felt an unexpected surge of… jealousy as she gained her feet and moved past the booth.

What the everlasting fuck?

Well, her language had certainly transformed in her time here, she thought bitterly, slamming her hand into the bathroom door a little harder than necessary to make it open, still reeling from the unexpected emotion.

Jealousy, what the hell? Why the hell would she be jealous of one of Bucky’s sluts?

She wasn’t, she decided, jealous that is. She was just sick of Bucky parading his manwhore ways in front of her. She’d treated plenty of gonorrhea and chlamydia in her ER rotation, she knew what Bucky was really flirting with, and when his cock suddenly sprouted oozing blisters, she would do her best not to laugh in his face.

Her business done; Lev studied her reflection in the cracked mirror. She’d never been unhappy with her appearance before, but then again, she’d never really paid attention to it before either. Her hair was a unique auburn shade, that one of her roommates had spent a whole semester trying to match as she moonlighted at a beauty salon, and she’d never encountered anyone else with eyes the same shade as hers, the same electric violet, like trapped galaxies but she didn’t have the confidence or presence of these women, the lady-balls to wear practically nothing and strut around, sure in the knowledge that all eyes were on them.

The tank top she wore now was the most revealing and risqué thing she’d ever worn and it still made her look like a nun compared to some of these girls, Bucky would never look her way with those other options, not that Lev wanted him to, right?

Goddammit, she was no closer to figuring out her feelings towards that man than she had been a week ago; and not being able to think her way through something both pissed her off and terrified her.

Whatever. Sometimes things just needed to sit, the diagnosis would come when it wanted to, not when you wanted it, that much she’d learned as a resident.

As she made her way back towards the table, praying that the girl was gone, Lev’s ears caught her name and she froze. She was close to them, able to see them but was not yet in the boy’s line of sight and they had apparently decided to discuss her in her absence.

“Lev’s cool, she’s trying.” Clint was saying.

“Yeah,” Steve added. “I mean you can tell she’s nervous, but she’s got courage, I’m proud of her; she’s always making herself face new things, ever since she got here-”

“She’s a princess.” Bucky’s voice was flat. “It’s hard to believe you’re even related. Wouldn’t know a good time if it bit her in the ass.”

Clint and Steve’s strident disagreement were lost in the rush of blood through Lev’s ears, the instant heat to her face. Shame boiled hot in her throat and something low in her chest snapped.

I’ll show you. I do too know how to have a good time.

Changing direction, Lev headed straight for the bar and claimed a stool. Glancing to her right, she saw a woman hold up a few bills and order a number of shots and she followed suit, barking out a brusque ‘tequila, shots’ when the bartender looked her way.

As a row of six was placed in front of her, the stool beside her was suddenly occupied and Lev glanced over, seeing an unfamiliar man smiling shyly at her.

You’ll do.

“Tequila?” She offered, gesturing to the line.

His tentative grin widened, and he turned, searching down the bar for something before facing her again, holding a saltshaker and plate of sliced lemons.

“Tequila.” He agreed.

Lev shivered, which was apparently the point, as the man licked a stripe up the side of her throat. Shaking salt at the wet patch, he licked her again then grabbed a shot glass and winked at her, slamming it in one go. The lemon wedge he’d pushed into her mouth bit her tongue with its acid and then he was kissing her, tonguing the wedge and making her head swim. She swayed slightly as he pulled back, proudly displaying the citrus chunk he’d take from her before pulling it out and setting it on the plate.

The first two shots each they’d taken normally, but for the last one, her new drinking buddy had suggested trying using the salt and lemon, and the smirk on his face as he’d described the procedure should have clued Lev into what was coming next.

“Okay,” he grinned widely at her, taking a fresh wedge. “Your turn.” His last words were slightly muffled around the lemon, but the sight made her giggle and, taking a deep breath, she reached for the shaker.

Hesitating only a moment, Lev leaned forwards and the guy obliged, tipping closer and offering his throat. She closed her eyes and ran her tongue along the cord in his neck, tasting hot skin then pulled back, hand shaking only slightly as she dusted him with salt, then licked again.

The tequila burned and she started coughing, but then the guy was grabbing her by the back of her head and yanking her close, capturing her mouth and forcing both his tongue and the lemon wedge into hers. She struggled, overwhelmed and suddenly dizzy as the three rapid shots of tequila hit her virgin body. Sure, she’d drank before, but only small amounts and never Patron.

The guy’s other hand was suddenly climbing her thigh and Lev squirmed, realizing she’d walked into a potentially dangerous situation and was going to have to figure some way out.

Dammit, she wished instantly that she hadn’t left the safety of the table, because while Bucky was an absolute prick to her, at the very least Steve and Clint would have looked out for her. Now, she was trapped and alone, with no idea if her brother was even looking for her yet.

Unexpectedly, her shot-mate was yanked roughly away, crashing against the counter with a garbled squawk.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A deep voice all but roared and Lev wasn’t sure if the question was aimed at her or the guy still flailing against the bar. She peered blearily upwards, heart sinking when she recognized her nemesis himself towering over her, glowering impressively even for him.

Bucky reached for her, face still twisted with fury and Lev flung her arms out, her tequila-soaked brain slow on the uptake and in no control whatsoever over her limbs. Whether she was trying to ward Bucky away or keep from losing her balance and tumbling over was impossible to say but her hand suddenly connected with his cheek in a sharp backhand.

Bucky’s head snapped to the side, the sound of striking flesh loud in Lev’s buzzing ears. He staggered slightly, either in surprise or from the force of Lev’s hit then turned storm-cloud eyes her way, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth were in danger of shattering.

“Hey- wha da fuck?” The guy he’d pushed away had found his voice, stumbling to his feet, reaching to pull Lev away from Bucky like some favored toy and Bucky exploded at him with an inhuman snarl, fist connecting with the man’s face, throwing him back again. Dimly Lev registered blood flying in a rather interesting arc as the man flew and then her arm was on fire as Bucky dragged her away, literally dragged her, towards the door.

Lev struggled and fought, fists striking Bucky’s torso and arms and maybe even his head as they hit the sidewalk, finally gaining her feet, fury beginning to roar in her veins. She wrenched herself out of his grip a few dozen feet down the sidewalk then whirled to really let Bucky have it when a sudden wave hit her, and she staggered, reaching blindly for support. The railing of a wheelchair ramp hit her hard in the belly and she folded over it as she opened her mouth, letting the tsunami of vomit boiling up her throat escape, flinching as it splashed wetly in the dark. Another wave hit her and she wretched again, gagging and then a hand touched her, soft and gentle, gathering up her hair at the nape of her neck to pull it away from her mess.

Clint, her heart sighed with relief. Her brother was here at last, saving her.

She groaned as the fierce pangs ceased, leaning heavily over the railing, all her strength gone. An arm snaked between her body and the metal, carefully pulling her back upright and Lev swayed, staggering a step to collapse against her brother and tuck into his chest, clawing at his shirt to draw closer with relief, tears threatening then lifted her head to focus on Clint, wiping at her mouth before she thanked him.

Bucky gazed down at her, brow drawn. Faint red showed on his cheek where she’d hit him, but he didn’t look mad anymore, he looked…. concerned.

“Are you alright, doll?” He rumbled. “Did that fuck hurt you?”

A riot of emotions crashed through Lev and, even sober, she wouldn’t have been able to make sense of them and react appropriately.

“Did he hurt me?” She sputtered, absolutely gobsmacked. She slammed her hands against Bucky’s chest and staggered away; pushing away his arms as they reached for her again, to either pull her back to him or at least steady her. “He didn’t hurt me at all, it was you!!”

Had this man not just been a raging beast, punching a man in the face and dragging her away from the bar like some sort of caveman? Where was this sudden gentle concern coming from? Why the hell had he risked touching her while she was sick, gathering her hair back like he had? It was a strangely considerate, intimate thing to do, especially when you despised the person.

Bucky flinched, as if she’d physically hit him and her mind noted hazily how he’d reacted more to her words than either of her strikes. He stepped closer, still reaching for her and Lev smacked his hands away furiously, throwing up a finger accusingly. Her mind was a chaotic, screaming mess; adrenaline coursing painfully through her veins and a detached, clinical part of her mind noted how much she probably resembled the patients she usually treated on wild Friday nights.

“It’s you!” Her voice was almost a shriek now, tears falling freely down her blotchy cheeks. “You’re the one that grabbed me! You’re the one who’s treated me like shit right from the first time I met you! What did I ever do to you? You look at me like I’m dogshit, you IGNORE me! I’m not a princess, I DO know how to have a good time!!”

Bucky’s face went instantly pale and he froze, eyes full of regret. She’d heard him, he realized, that’s why she’d ran to the bar, put herself in danger the way she had, she’d heard him say those hateful things.

Lev stumbled, ankle bending sharply, and fell to one knee with a cry, hands slamming onto the sidewalk. A pained groan spilled from her lips and she collapsed to sit on the curb, burying her face in her hands, rapidly sinking into misery.

A deep, unsteady sigh hit her ears as she registered a heavy form drop beside her, one of Bucky’s wide shoulders bumping against hers as he did. Lev scooted away, glaring briefly at him before dropping her gaze again, struggling to rein in her tears. The only thing that would make this night worse would be if she continued to cry with Bucky seated so close to her.

She tensed to stand, not sure if she was going to try and stumble through the parking lot, searching for Clint’s truck, start just walking, or turn and storm back into the bar and drag her brother out.

“Wait,” Bucky choked, reaching for her but not touching. Something in his voice made her pause and she glanced cautiously back towards him, sniffling, her bottom lip trembling. He sighed unsteadily and dared a glance up at Lev’s face, wincing at the pain and mistrust there.

Lev waited, in truth too dizzy to leap to her feet like she wanted to but also curious as to just what this man could possibly have to say, what was making him look like he himself might start crying.

“I’m sorry.” He finally whispered; eyes lowered. “You’re right, I’ve hurt you and I’m-” he swallowed and, when he spoke again, his voice was lower still and resigned. “I wish to God I’d done different.”

“Like how?”

His eyes flicked to hers, a tiny spark of hope there. He drew in a breath, seeming to search for the right words but then a bellow broke between them.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Clint yelled, storming towards them. He looked genuinely angry, almost violently crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet, glaring between Lev and Bucky. Steve was right behind him, frowning and his glare seemed to darken as he took in the scene, eyes flicking from Bucky to Lev and back.

Lev stumbled for an explanation and Clint lost patience, reaching for her arm with a huff, but pulling her gently to her feet when she squeaked.

He peered at her, pushing her hair off her forehead and winced. “You puked.”

Lev nodded tiredly. “I just want to go.”

“’Kay.” Clint muttered, glaring momentarily at Bucky again before turning his back to him and ignoring him fully. “Come on, little sister. Steve?”

“Yeah, I’ll take him.” Steve answered, slapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder when he moved to follow Lev, fixing him with a glare, silently telling him to back the fuck off then pulled his cell phone out to call an Uber.

Lev stayed quiet on the ride home, mind whirling and twisting around itself. She’d finally burst, finally let out the hurt and frustration Bucky’s treatment of her had fostered and, rather than reacting with his usual scorn or indifference, he’d looked chagrined and…. sorrowful, like this was one of his great shames.

Now she was hella confused.

This would have been the perfect opportunity for him to lay it all out, shut her down completely with only a few well-chosen words and instead…. he’d looked like he was about to cry himself. And he’d said he was sorry. For what? His treatment of her just now in the bar, or ever since they’d met?

Clint turned into his driveway and put the truck into park, turning it off but not exiting. The silence built between them, squeezing Lev’s chest.

She caught Clint glancing worriedly at her, hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel as he fought with himself, obviously wanting to ask but hesitating and Lev felt a rush of sympathy.

She’d messed everything up, her coming here had triggered something in Bucky and now her brother felt like he had to choose between her and one of his best friends.

She needed to leave. Nat wasn’t back yet, and they would now be short a runner at the shop, but they’d manage.

“Did he-” Clint sounded so torn that Lev almost started crying again.

“No,” she rushed to reassure him. “I was stupid, started doing shots at the bar with some random guy and he got handsy. Bucky stopped him and then I got sick and started puking.” Again, a half-truth rather than a whole lie.

Clint studied her. He was no dummy, for all his wild ways he was a smart guy and he was as capable of connecting the dots as anyone else. “You heard him, at the table, didn’t you?”

Lev shrugged, fighting fresh tears. “It’s true-”

“Lev-”

“I don’t know how to have a good time; I’ve wasted so much time.”

“Hey.” Clint’s voice was sharp, pulling her attention to him. He glanced outside before glaring back at her. “You have not wasted time; you have been working your ass off and making something of yourself. You’re a doctor, Lev. Do you have any idea how proud I am of you? I’m the one who’s wasting my life-”

“No!” Lev sobbed, reaching over and grabbing at Clint’s arm. “You have your own business. You’re a fucking talented artist, don’t you dare say you’ve wasted anything!”

Their mutual outbursts seemed to have cut the tension and, despite the tears still running down her face, Lev felt like she could breathe again.

Clint swiped at his cheek, then chuckled wetly, glancing at Lev. “Did you really just say ‘fuck’?”

“You’re a bad influence.” Lev mumbled, forcing a smile, eyes boring into her brother’s, desperate to convey her sincerity. For all his free-spiritedness, Clint was Lev’s rock and to hear him doubt himself was one of the scariest things she’d ever heard. “But seriously…. You have not wasted your life. Clint, you are amazing, alright? You are a master tattooist with your own business and people love you. I… just wish I knew how to… go with it like you do.”

Clint snorted quietly. “And sometimes I wish I could buckle down like you.” His hand reached to her, the back of his fingers brushing her tears away. “Seriously, little sis; I brag about you all the time, I am so fucking proud of you and the way Bucky is acting-”

“That’s my fault.” Lev broke in. “And the best thing I can do is go home and let everything calm back down.”

Clint looked at her, sorrow bright in his eyes. He hated to hear it, hated the fact that two of the most important people in his life couldn’t seem to co-exist peacefully, but Lev was right.

Still, that didn’t mean he had to like it, or needed to speak more about it tonight.

“C’mon. Let’s go in the house, get some sleep; we’ll talk more in the morning.”

[ssaalexblake]

star wars spoilers

ros spoilers

move onnnn

like actual proper major spoilers and i’m making this intro long in case mobile decides to hate read mores today

... 

...

Anyway like, i am a Shallow sw viewer who isn’t actually likely to kick up a fuss abt what i didn’t like in any serious way even tho i got issues, But i wanna say what i really liked b/c?? there were moments in that movie with themes i Loved and i don’t wanna be negative nancy for this franchise because i am actually incapable of taking it seriously tbh no matter how wtf or wild it is and i just Gotta;

First of all. The entire franchise was worth Rey it for calling Leia Master. 

like, they added her in best as they could, which wasn’t fabulous but i can’t really say how they’d work their way around that tbh so i’m not gonna rag on abt the Leia plot But god they proper confirmed she was a Legit Jedi thank u V much.

Chewie!!! Got!!! his!!! medal!!!

they put porgs in the movie, it was my only request and i recieved. i am content. 

also the effects on old palps were Incredible and Creepy and!!! props to the vis effects teams

also s/o to the choreographer who planned out rey’s fighting style to look like gymnastic tumbles but with a murderous glow stick. love it.

idk what extended sw canon now says about force powers being able to heal But the old eu book shatterpoint is one of my faves and i loved the inclusion that Rey can just like. Heal. 

also lol i heard daisy ridley on the radio this morning and she was supposed to be requesting songs to air but didn’t know the names of them and i have Never related to anybody more than i did in that moment. 

look ok, that rey and kylie could literally fight each other when not in the same room was Really Cool ok

tho i would have Paid to have seen the pov of an outsider while they had lightsaber battles from miles away tbh b/c that would have been Wild

i had one Horrified moment where i thought the ‘rise of skywalker’ thing was a Pun about kylie dragging his ass up from that hole and u have No Idea how thankful i was @ the Rise sequence

also i, a massive mace windu fan, was Ecstatic his voice was present in the proceedings

which were A) tacky and B) Abdolutely my favourite thing ever. 

it’s a space opera ok i am allowed to Want to be here for the tacky heartwarming shit

‘is that the navy??!?!?!?!?@ ‘ no sir... it’s.. .People’ was one of the funniest yet heartwarming sequences in anything ever ngl

HORSE WARTHOGS

inexplicable lin manuel miranda cameo

rey’s temper explained due to the fact that she is related to... Vilanelle

and look ok, i Always hated the idea of Rey being related to the skywalkers and Any crap meta that she had to be family for it to Count properly. It was an insult to found family, any form of adoption etc etc and i am.. Actually very mollified by this familial turn of events lol. It has a certain symmetry. and sw is literally built on the idea that history repeats but... different. 

i was’t against rey being related to anybody, i just didn’t want her to be a skywalker because like... she was gonna Be a skywalker b/c legacy isn’t about blood, and uh... least i was right. i am naturally happy abt this. 

also when i watched tlj the first time i was CONVINCED at the end of the movie she’d raise luke’s x wing from the depths as yoda did for luke in esb, and was Super off put that i was wrong. I was not wrong just... my timing was off. luke rose the x wing for her. ur yoda now luke. deal with it. 

the other ex storm troopers who laid down their weapons!!! all of them!!! fin is not alone, they only have power by making you think you are alone!!! 

i Really loved that thematic thread btw

also richard e grant’s performance was actually kind of chilling

but i am glad that i can still happily say that every character in sw Is a total unmitigated idiot. All of them. Stupid. Idiot rights. Yes, this is a plus point. 

i also liked that it’s Kind of obvious hamill and ford picked up slack for what Would have been carrie’s scenes??? Like, it’s horrible she’s not there but they obviously care to do that in her stead. it’s sad but makes you smile. 

as much as i’m not a kyle fan and never will be, and as much as i am not a fan of the ship, i can’t say there there weren’t decent thematic threads around the rey and kylie plot. Her symbolically killing kylie in a fit of rage, actively actually rising to his bait, realising as luke did in the roj climax that she had let the dark side get the better of her But having the power to take that Back and heal him and Stop even after she’d done something. It’s like the originals but not. And so, kylo is dead and Solo walks again. Was this plot My thing? No. But i appreciate the symbolism of him being stabbed through the stomach like he did to Han, and i appreciate the contrast of her actions after doing that versus His after he did it. What a difference. 

i said this wasn’t a complaint post but u wanna know the worst part abt the movie??? how cheap the sith dagger looked. surely u can do better than that???

anyway, 3po’s red eyed when he translated the sith was hilarious tbh. 

also hilarious: sw’s response to hiring Another brown haired white lady was to Only show her eyes in a way that was Incredibly conspicuous and was therefore unintentionally hilarious. 

Finn is Explicitly force sensitive now and it’s over for y’all 

wedge!!!

like... the sith amphitheater???  with the ghosties of all sith past (i think??? my interpretation anyway) was Genuinely creepy??? 

this is a Bit of a side note, but Luke was Perfectly in tune with tlj luke??? Because tlj luke changed tune before the end of That movie when he gucci booted his astral ass to distract kylie, him Saying his fear was wrong was merely verbal confirmation of what was portrayed in tlj. really. That’s not them backing away from tlj, it’s afffirming it. 

i really loved that hux just got That death. I liked  that while he Was used for ridiculous comic relief, the narrative did not forget he was just straight up evil. 

L A N D O

that i all. that’s the point. just lando.

sheev palpatine’s late entry for Shittiest parent/paternal figure in the sw universe Was at the eleventh hour but by god did he give it his all to win the competition. 

things only relevant to cm fans: they killed kate callahan’s husband!!! :((((

critics are slamming them for like, hardly killing anybody but I for one am happy they didn’t go grimdark and just went. Fuck it, we’re gonna keep being bullheadedly optimistic and most everybody lives, deal with it.

s/o to that gay moment that lasted like 2 solid seconds but i’d have preferred it if she’d been like, making out w/ chewie tbh.

that hug!! the trio hug!! my ot3!!! that i am even more convinced would Properly work as an ot3, too btw. Poe spent the whole movie jealous finn is into Rey, while confused abt it b/c He’s also kinda into Rey in that han/leia Tension kinda way, but Finn is also into Poe but not in the Puppy way he is with Rey, in the ‘i am so in love w/ you i don’t realise it but i trust you with the world’ kinda thing and Rey also has the Tension thing w/ Poe and would do anything for Finn but she’s like... Busy. B/c like, unfortunate family reunions and the awkwardness of being a millennial Actually offered a decent job that your morals do not allow you to take and the crisis that leaves u with. 

anyway what i’m saying is the ot3 is Sailing in my head. look how it ended!!! Sailing. 

however, i would like it known that the lady at the end Should have heard the word skywalker and Run for the hills. missed a chance. 

But also Rey Did find that family of hers Maz told her she’d get ahead of her!!! i hate how many ppl say that was dropped or forgotten. like wtf??? what are finn and poe and chewie and bb8 and 3po and all the army of droids that love her and all the resistance that does too??? Luke and Leia??? y’all obsessed with blood when it comes to sw. She’s got her family. 

now i Could make a complaints post but i just... I’ll leave that to everybody else and their mothers for now bc they’d be better at it anyway. I liked This stuff. Except for that point about the dagger. that sucked. 

[phantomwarrior12]

Shenanigans (Part 10)

Prompt: Isaac gets roped into Red Team shenanigans

Word Count: 2,093

Summary: Life with the Reds and Blues isn’t easy, but a day with the Reds is enough to drive anyone insane.

Warnings: Canon-style swearing, shenanigans, salty mercenaries

A/N: Hey folks!

Here it is! The second to last chapter of Saudade! Huge shoutout to the fabulous @antsyserpentine for giving me the ideas for this prompt!

Customary shoutout to @epsiloneridani07 and @frequentlydistressed for the mention of their OC, Liz.

Quick PSA, the final has been written and will be posted this weekend!

As always, please leave a like/comment and let me know your thoughts!

Enjoy!

~ Phantom

Saudade Masterlist

Finally Home (End)

--------------

"Sam, please."

Sam glances up from his data pad, reading the telltale signs of desperation in his partner's eyes, "What?"

"Don't make me deal with them alone."

"You wanted to try and connect with the Reds and Blues, this is the best course of action."

"But we both know I have a temper and I could snap anytime." Isaac protests, sinking into his cot across from Sam.

""Fel--Isaac," Sam leans forward, catching himself before he can call him by his codename, "the Reds and Blues are a group of unique individuals, but, they have their moments. They're a good starting point."

Isaac's shoulders sag, he knows Sam is right and there's no way out of this one. So, when Grif pounds on the door, he shuffles across the room and opens it with nothing short of a dread-filled look.

"Felix," the orange member of Red Team greets.

"Grif."

"Ready?"

Isaac casts one last pleading glance over his shoulder towards Sam. His partner doesn't look up from his data pad and waves him off.

His shoulders slouch and he turns to face Grif, "Fine. Let's go."

-----------------

"Felix! Less chit chat, more work!"

Isaac's fingers curl around the side of the warthog a little tighter, "Maybe your robot should be the one hoisting a three ton car!"

"Don't be ridiculous! Who will fix the warthog then?"

"I don't know, me?!" Isaac's snaps back, digging his foot into the dusty ground, "Marines had to fix their warthogs in field, you know!"

"You? Fix a warthog? I like your sense of humor, son!" Sarge laughs, slapping Isaac on the back before strolling off.

"Él es un idiota." Lopez apologizes, tightening a bolt on the underside of the warthog.

"You read my mind." Isaac grits back, dropping his shoulder to brace himself.

"Tú puedes entenderme?"

"Wait. You can understand Lopez?" Grif asks, features contorted in confusion.

"Yeah, can't you?"

"Grif can, the rest of us don't know what he says. Sarge just makes up conversations in his head." Simmons provides, his leaner frame slipping under the weight of the large combat vehicle.

"Where'd you learn to speak Spanish?" Grif queries, slackening his force on the vehicle.

"I'll tell you if you start pushing again!" Isaac's down to one knee, straining to keep the frame off the Red Team's robot.

"Oh, shit!" Grif steps back in, shouldering some of the weight.

"Thank you." Isaac huffs, pushing back up to his feet, "Sam speaks it, sometimes he'd slip up when we were kids and I'd have to try and figure out what he was saying. l managed to pick it up fairly quickly."

"You've known Locus that long?"

Isaac glances from the warthog to the largest member of Red Team, "Yeah. Couple of orphans abandoned on some backwater planet--we really didn't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Didn't you have any siblings?"

Isaac hesitates. Something inside twinges and he can almost see her face. Something inside stirs and a sad smile spreads across his lips. Something inside pleads and he almost listens.

And then he remembers. At first, they're fragments, pieces of a lifetime ago. And then they're clear, a history he won't soon forget.

Something inside reminds him to be silent, but everything else screams, begging him to utter her name once more. His eyes flicker between the members of Red Team and he realizes that this is one of the only ways he can open up to them. It's personal and it's going to hurt, but he has to do this--for Liz.

The ache in his eyes, the pain in his smile fades when he finally finds the words, "I did, once."

By now, Lopez has finished repairs and slides out from underneath the vehicle and the others can finally let it drop.

"Well, don't leave us in suspense! Tell us the dirty details!" Donut insists, hoisting himself up onto the hood of the warthog.

Isaac smirks and leans against the platform for the gunner, "I had a twin sister, Liz. We grew up on Earth, but when we were ten, we were separated after our parents got divorced. Long story short, my mom took the easy way out and I was left to survive on my own. That's when I met Sam. He saved my life day one, and I guess," the smirk fades to a reminiscent upward twitch of the lips, "he never stopped saving it. Even all these years later, he's still looking out for me like we're still kids."

"Kind of like Grif and Simmons! They've always kept an eye on each other's behinds!"

"No, we don't!" Simmons protests vehemently, struggling to cover the squeak of his voice.

Isaac casts a long, questioning glance towards the sim trooper on the warthog. He wants to question the word choice, but thinks better of it. "Not exactly, but--"

"Always on each other's backs?"

"That's even worse."

"Oh! I get it! You two are always within arms length!"

"Oh God, no! Seriously, how the hell does everything that comes out of your mouth have a sexual undertone?!" Isaac's features are contorted in disgust and a level of discomfort that he's not sure he'll ever surpass again.

"That's just Donut for you," Grif supplies with a deadpan expression.

"Hey, at least I enjoy the finer things in life!" Donut protests, sliding off the hood of the vehicle.

"The finer things don't include--"

"--I'm going to go ahead and stop you right there," Isaac interjects forcefully, "I really don't need anymore nightmares."

"You're confusing nightmares with fantasies, silly." Donut corrects with a grin.

"No, I'm not. I'm really not." Isaac returns, all hope draining from his eyes when he notices Sarge returning over Donut's shoulder. "Salty Sarge inbound."

Grif snorts, but starts to shuffle off towards the barracks. His progress is halted only by Sarge yelling, "Private Grif! Did I give you permission to scamper off with your tail between your legs?"

"First of all, I don't have a tail. Second of all, you're not in charge! We're not fighting a war anymore!"

"Is that any way to talk to your commanding officer?" Sarge cocks his shotgun and aims it at Grif.

"Do it, please, do it." Grif holds his arms out, almost as if embracing the possibility of death.

Isaac steps between them, "Sarge, put the gun away and Grif," hazel flickers to Grif's amused smile, "are you okay?"

"He's fine, he's just been hanging out with Lopez too much. Apparently, he makes a lot of kill me now jokes." Simmons supplies, shaking his head.

"Es la verdad." Lopez adds with a nod, "Yo quiero morir."

"You're not allowed to die, Lopez. Neither are you, Grif."

"I can arrange your death, dirtbag." Sarge offers, raising his shotgun.

"The fuck is wrong with you people?" Isaac glances around Red team incredulously.

"A lot of things, but they mostly stem from that nutcase," Grif nods towards Sarge, ducking behind Isaac when the Colonel levels the barrel on him.

Isaac's had enough, he shoves Grif's hands off of his shoulders before promptly disarming Sarge with jab to the inside of his elbow and a light shove.

"That's insubordination, soldier!"

Isaac empties the cartridge and tosses the empty weapon back to the leader of Red Team, "Point it at me again and we're going to have a problem."

There's something unidentifiable in the mercenary's eyes and Sarge gives a short nod. The glint fades when he notices Sam approaching, and he doesn't think he's ever been so happy to see his brother than he is right now.

He strides past Simmons and Donut to greet him, catching his forearm, "Please, get me out of here. I'm very close to shooting Sarge and gutting Donut."

Sam arches an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Welcome to my world."

"How the hell did you tolerate these idiots for a year by yourself?"

"They're an acquired taste, Gates, you get used to them."

"I don't think I want to get used to them."

Sam snorts indelicately, but continues towards the group, Isaac trailing reluctantly behind him.

"This is why I prefer Blue Team, Sam." Isaac grumbles.

"Calm down."

"Locus! You need to get your soldier under control! He touched my shotgun!"

"Maybe if you didn't aim it at your own team, I wouldn't have to." Isaac snaps, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why you--if you were one of my soldiers, I'd shoot you right now!"

"If I were one of your soldiers, I'd shoot myself."

"That's enough." Sam interjects pointedly.

Isaac shrugs, "Told you this was a bad idea."

"Gates--"

Isaac doesn't wait to hear his partner's response, already starting away from Red Base.

"Where you going?" Grif steps past Simmons.

"Somewhere he's not!"

---------------

"Lift the warthog. Poison Grif's next meal. Carry around this canister of confetti for no goddamn reason other than I'm a senile old man who doesn't know shit about leading a team." Isaac grumbles, skipping rocks across the creek. It's one of the more reclusive corners of the valley, far enough away from both bases for peace and quiet.

"Wow, you sound just like him."

Hazel shifts to his left, Washington leaning against a tree with an amused expression etched into his features.

Isaac shrugs, dusting his hands off on his jeans, "He's an easy man to imitate. Senile, cranky, a fucking dick." He starts to stand, only for Wash to gesture him to remain seated, sinking down onto the grass beside him.

"I know how you feel. When I first met him, it took a lot of convincing for him to believe I wasn't a 'dirty blue'." Wash's voice drops, gruff and sharp like the Red Team leader himself.

Isaac chuckles lightly, "I would have paid to see that."

"My point is, Felix, that he takes some getting used to. Everyone else might be fine, but Sarge has always been a little slow on the ally uptake. He doesn't show it, but he cares about those guys more than anyone I've ever seen."

"Then why the hell does he treat them like that? Grif's life is threatened every other day."

"Couldn't tell ya, guy's more emotionally constipated than Carolina. All I know is he wouldn't hesitate to lay down his life for any of them, including Grif, despite what he claims." Washington offers a gentle smile, picking up a small stone and rolling it between his fingers.

"Guy could use some therapy."

"You're right on that one," the stone skips across water, both eyes watching it glide, "Red Team tends to follow his example, so don't toss him aside so easily." Wash stands, dusting off the back of his jeans, "you never know when a trigger happy, senile, old man will come in handy."

He pats Isaac's shoulder before starting back up the bank.

"Hey, Wash?"

He pauses, turning to glance back at the mercenary lost to the current of the creek.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

-------------

He's dragging his feet over the hill, shoulders slouched and every ounce of his being wants to be anywhere but back at Red Base. It doesn't stop him from approaching the group, Sam humoring Donut's idle attempts at translating his conversation with Lopez until he catches a glimpse of Isaac.

He offers a short nod of greeting before nodding towards Sarge, who's still fussing over the Warthog.

"Sarge," Isaac greets, shoving aggravation aside when Red Team's leader stands.

"The hell you want, dirtbag?"

"I," his jaw flexes and it takes everything he has to meet Sarge's gaze, "wanted to apologize. You've been running this team a long time, I was wrong to step in." He can hear Sam's quiet snort behind him, well aware of how painful it is for the lean mercenary to admit when he's wrong.

"Apology accepted, it seems you villains can learn a thing or two from us after all." He claps Isaac on the shoulder.

"Lucky us." It's a lifeless agreement, fighting back frustration and exasperation as his eyes turn to Sam's approving smirk.

"Now, with your insubordination resolved, how about you give me a hand with this warthog?"

"I'm not picking it up again."

"Lucky for you, Lopez has volunteered to lift it. Locus mentioned something about you being good with an engine, let's find out if he's right." Sarge holds out the wrench towards Isaac and the mercenary casts a glance towards his partner, shooting him an appreciative smile before accepting the tool.

"Let's get to work."

----------------

Chapter 11 (End)

Tagging:

RVB Forevers: @mamma-dragon @loveliestoflunchboxes @heaven-hell-imagines

Mercs: @antsyserpentine

[stareiiez]

Flower Petals and Blood

Leonard Church x Female Reader

Hanaki Disease AU

Wow, very hella late update to my series but hey! Its never too late for good ass angst. Also my inbox is still open for requests so pretty please send those in!

Not even did a handful of days pass once the black armored man, sorry bitch man, arrived at the blue base. Of course, you knew to never speak out against her, since she had this team by the balls in her right hand and the team flag in the left. Whoop dee fucking do, your eyes could roll to the back of your head from that mental image. If only you were transferred to Project Freelancer, instead of this shit hole, you could come back just as Texas but maybe your training could leave the female shitting in her own armor. The intimidating aura the woman gave off seemed to fuel your mood into nothing but negative, or stoic, hell you even tried to get along with her. Although nothing worked out, 'girl talk' resulted in her claiming the blues as her own and if you were there just to prove your place on the team she'd knock your ass in the ground. That talk left you with an itching trigger finger as a grated out 'yes ma'am' scraped out past clenched teeth.          

The sun seemed to taunt you with its bright rays that seemed to tan your legs to a crisp underneath the fabric of torn up civil jeans, that were fashioned into haphazard shorts. The warthog's radio hummed its overly played Spanish polka song through scratched speakers. Oil dripped on your cheek before it was cleaned away with a bright red rag that was looped lazily on the underside of the puma. Vehicles always seemed to be broken around the blues, or reds, but you didn't seem to mind. Being alone with your mind focused on just vehicles while Church, Tucker, and Caboose were clambered up on the cliffside. Humming under your breath, to the song, the wrench was tossed out the side of the puma before you yourself scooted out from underneath the vehicle. Grease and other fluids had stained the dark grey tank top you wore, but hell, command gave you too many clothes to go out and waste. Clothes, spare parts, supplies, and the occasional shore leave option came by every two months.

"You'll be purring for sure no like a large cat now." You told the clean four-seater. Moving to the driver side, you turned the keys in the ignition on. In a second the engine purred and rumbled like a happy cat laying in the sun.

Proud of your handy work, you turned the vehicle off. A nice sounding vehicle always brought you happiness. It brought images of you driving this thing in actual streets with the radio blaring old songs that you would sing along to. Maybe you'd have a shotgun rider who's be singing along with you, and acting like a complete fool with you, while you forever cruised down an endless black pavement into the future. Frantically, you shook your head. The shotgun rider had contorted into Church, his stupid smile infecting your brain while his sky blue eyes gazed at you with adoration in their orbs.

"Stop it." You scolded yourself ignorant of your own mind.

Your chest seemed to squeeze painfully at that blissful wonderland. Like your own organs were retaliating and voicing their own pain. It never seemed to hurt as much as you used to woefully mourn over the male's heart captured and locked away by another. The music of the warthog dimmed a little while your ears rang faintly, were you even breathing at this point? A hand rose to rest on your chest to check, the erratic heartbeat calmed you slightly yet the sting of oxygen deprivation made that fade. Drawing in lungs filled the air, you winced from the slight strain. A frown creased your brow, while your hand turned into a loose fist. A few light beats on your chest and the strain eased with a few coughs. Oxygen pulled in freely like there was nothing blocking your airway now.

It was nothing, you convinced yourself. It was possible you had gotten sick with some alien virus. As if nobody was sick in the last three months, except for Caboose. He came down with a small head cold that ended up almost frying his brain at high temperatures. Doc managed to help him breathe through the high fevers after the course of a whole week and a half. A virus couldn't hang around for that long right? Were his lungs hurting as much as yours was?

Your hand rubbed your chest in small circles as if that would ease the stress of the pain that plagued the vital organs. The music that the warthog played soon eased back into your once numbed senses and brought the Spanish polka music to a close with the press of a button from your finger. The silence was golden until the prick of the man who caused you so much pain and confusion was seemingly 'haunting' right over your shoulder. Great.

"What do you want Casper the little shithead aren't you supposed to be burning in hell?" You bit out with a slight venom laced with your words.

"Can't a ghost of a dead guy show up to watch over his-" A hesitation in his voice hurt more than that pain in your chest ever could. "Teammate." He finished.

"You aren't-" Fuck, you can't come right out and blurt it. Flowers would be rolling in his grave as well as all of Project Freelancer. Hell, even his freelancer buddies who were running around would slit your throat if they reached you.

That's if they were still around, how many years has it been since the Project fell? Three years? Maybe it was less than that word about those 'scary guys with guns' was a topic you all avoided.

"I am dead, you idiot, my grave is right where you're standing. I guess I just have unfinished business here so God, or whoever won't let me rest." Church groaned out tiredly as if a ghost could actually be tired.

"Right, so why bother my ass again?" A brow rose unamused brow upwards.

"You know how ghosts can 'possess' people like in those out of date movies?"

"Right? And?" Your voice trailed off, although the idea was very clear to you now.

"I need to test that out." A scoff cut him off and he rolled his eyes behind the visor of his helmet. "It's just for research plus I'm bored so hurry up."

As if it was more of a demand than a suggestion you crossed your arms over your chest and let out a drawn-out sigh. "Is that the only reason?"

"Well, Tucker did say that I've been in you in more ways than one so." Church crossed his arms over his chest, his ghostly figure drifting a few more steps to you.

"Ah! That's enough Church. Just shut your mouth and hurry this bull shit up." You cut him off before your arms uncrossed and spread out to the sides.

With a smirk, the 'ghost' charged at you and sunk into your skin. The force was enough to actually lose your balance and move back a few steps. Your breath was lost and your brain spazzed out like you were having one hell of a seizure. Every organ seemed to shut down and then restart, under his control. It felt like someone pressed the restart button on your body, but you never had the controls anymore. Instead, an idiot had the controls and he was taking advantage of it.

"Holy shit!" You heard him yell in your voice that was slightly altered to form a combination of both deep and smooth sounds. "It worked."

Church fist pumped, well you fist pumped, in the air before a grin formed on your features. While Church was walking and talking to himself, and feeling your body, your subconscious was shoved to the very reaches of your mind. It was all black surrounding you and the echo of the outside world set your nerves on fire. Anxiety never bothered you but now you could feel the familiar squeeze of uncomfortable feelings snatch your throat in its maw.

"Church! Enough is enough get out." Is what you wanted to say, but you doubted your mouth could even form words right now. It was like you were too tired to even move.

The sensation of your 'lover' being inside you was suddenly exhausting for an odd reason. Your heart ached at the sensation. You could feel his presence, almost imagine would his 'warmth' spread through our whenever you were laying side by side in bed with him. Rants of every day were something you related to, and it was the most interesting part of your day. Your eyes squeezed shut, the ache in your chest returned with a vengeance and luckily an A.I couldn't feel pain, your pain, but they could sense what wasn't right. That was this time. His fun and games of yelling/flirting with a Tucker who was still stuck o the cliff was ceased immediately and his presence was no longer there. The reset button hit you again and only this time it hit you with relief if it wasn't for the series of coughs that slipped past your lips and landed in the square of your elbow.

Your name was repeated softly from his mouth until the coughs ended in six seconds and your lungs hurt. Your eyes shot up and landed squarely on his golden visor.

"You good? What was that?" Church placed, or tried to place, a hand on your arms yet instead, it passed through your cheek.

The action made you wince inwardly, as well as physically. The move brought the pain to squeeze your lungs until it ached with the intention to freeze your organs into cold blocks of ice. You felt cold and overall panicked.

"I really don't know but you're not helping me. Get Doc, before I pass out from stress or pain." Your teeth grit together while your eyes narrowed menacingly. The look caused his figure to stiffen and then blinked out of existence with a quick nod of his helmeted head.

Screams for Doc in Red Base as well as Sarge's gruff voice echoed from the canyon. You would smile over the arguing of Church and Sarge, while the screams for Doc rained over the conversation, but right now the pain was too much right now.

You damned hoped that Doc would move his grape ass to you because the suffocation would settle in from how shallow your breathing was.

"Please, God, let it just be the flu."

[autisticblueteam]

Different People (Carolina/Girlie)

Chapter 4 / 4: Unexpected

[AO3] [Ko-Fi in Bio]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Drowning, Paralysis [other tags on AO3]

Girlie survived Longshore.

The sole survivor of her team, she found herself thrown out into the world with nowhere to go and nothing to cling to except the burning resentment she held towards the Freelancers. After years of aimlessness, when presented with an opportunity for revenge she snaps it up without hesitation.

But reality is never as simple as fantasy. People aren’t always what you imagined them to be.

Chapter Word Count: 5745

Notes: At the time of posting this hasn’t had my usual edits because it’s late and I want to get it up, but I’ll likely go through and edit it later. But here we go, final chapter!

The next few hours went by in a blur.

Girlie could do little but watch from the Warthog seat and then the Pelican as everything fell apart for the Chorusans. The General that owned the sword had been cornered and the reactor they were planning to set off with time to spare had been damaged. Destroying it manually was their only hope at taking out enough of Charon’s forces to even the field, but now the General would die.

Giving Felix the sword and the means to wipe out the entire planet with the turn of a key.

The idea she’d given them. The information she’d passed on.

Something twisted in her gut. A deep sense of guilt that she didn’t have the energy to process, not on top of everything that had happened with Carolina.

She could barely even look at her. Every time she did she felt sick in a way she couldn’t quite describe; it wasn’t that hatred she’d grown so used to but it wasn’t anything pleasant. Carolina had offered her mercy, she’d offered her a hand and she’d helped her come out of this with another chance. What was she supposed to do with that information?

In those few minutes on the ground in Armonia, before the city blew, she saw a side of Carolina she’d never acknowledged could even exist. Far past the one-dimensional ideas she’d built up of her and the other Freelancers, she saw her comforting Kimball and leading her to safety. She saw her scan the bay and check on everyone inside, even her. Saw her climb onto the roof of the Pelican armed with nothing but her armour, an AI and a bubble shield to deflect a nuclear blast.

The Pelican survived. Carolina stumbled back into the bay, collapsed against Washington. Everyone fell into an uneasy, anxious silence. Radio calls from other survivors came in and Kimball pulled herself together long enough to organise everyone, direct people to land in safe locations around the planet.

Their ship finally landed in a jungle canyon, connected to a crashed ship. People scrambled out as soon as the bay door touched the ground, greeted by the blue-toned soldiers she’d seen at the temple and a few others. The canyon was filled with Choursan soldiers in both types of armour, huddled in small groups.

This was what passed for a safe location. An open canyon in the middle of nowhere, isolated but unsecured.

Fuck. These people were on their last legs.

Girlie had to pull herself from her seat and drag herself to the edge of the bay. Sitting at the top of the ramp she watched everything go by. Teenagers in armour, some crying whilst others just stared at the ground. Medics checking over the injured. People coming and going from the wreckage.

No one came to her and she didn’t expect them to. Carolina had vanished with her team and Girlie sat alone, kitted out in Pirate armour. Those few who noticed her gave her dirty looks and it wasn’t like she could blame them.

This was partially her fault, after all. Not that they knew the extent of how, but…

Sighing, she lay back and covered her face with her arm.

Sure, she’d survived. But what was she supposed to do now?

Felt like she’d asked herself that question a lot in the past few years.

Time ticked by and Girlie was left there undisturbed. Silence usually welcomed spiralling thoughts and anger, but… not today. For once, she didn’t even think. Instead she just lay there, listening to the white noise of the jungle and the distance chatter of the Chorusans, until she heard shouting from somewhere else in the canyon. Shouting that echoed inside her helmet where it lay at her side.

Pulling her helmet back on, she heard General Kimball’s voice. A speech, broadcasting to all local channels and no doubt more. A speech about the Civil War here on Chorus and about war as a whole, what it does to you. A speech about fighting back and surviving. Rousing and emotional and coming from a place so genuine that she could feel it in the woman’s voice.

And as the cheers filled the canyon, as bullets sprayed into the air, Girlie found some of her words had struck a cord in her. The speech wasn’t for her, wasn’t for the ex-Insurrectionist who’d long since betrayed all of her principles or for the woman who’d made their imminent demise possible, but, despite that…

When you spend every day fighting a war, you learn to demonize your attackers. To you they're evil, they're sub-human. Because if they weren't, then what would that make you?

With a quiet laugh, Girlie let her head fall back. Yeah, what would that make you?

Carolina reappeared not long after Kimball’s speech had ended. Girlie saw her coming, heading from the direction Kimball’s speech had come from. No helmet, her face laid bare for all the world to see.

She looked… as tired as Girlie felt, she realised with another laugh. Bags under her eyes and scars on her face, signs of stress in the corners of her features and cropped scarlet hair tousled by her helmet. Girlie couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked in the mirror but she figured if she had the chance, she wouldn’t look much better.

The years hadn’t been kind to either of them.

“Girlie,” she said, standing at the foot of the ramp. “Can we talk?”

“…yeah, sure. Whatever.” Figuring it was only fair, she unsealed her own helmet and set it down beside her. “Not like I’m going anywhere. Literally, I can’t fucking get up.”

“We can have Grey examine you.” Carolina walked up the ramp and sat a few feet away, not too close. Girlie couldn’t tell if that was for her comfort or her own. “See if there’s anything she can do, about your legs.”

“Doubt you have facilities for surgery here,” Girlie said, nodding at the canyon. “That’s all that’ll fix it. Can tell you that right now.”

“I don’t know. Grey’s…” she trailed off, trying to place a word, but eventually shook her head, “…Grey. She ran maintenance on my arm in the middle of nowhere and it held up just fine.” When Girlie’s head snapped to her in confusion, Carolina peeled off her glove and waved a set of robotic fingers at her. “Prosthesis.”

“Oh, right. Guess I’m not the only cyborg around here.”

Carolina slipped her glove back on. “Not by a longshot.”

Awkward silence overcame them and they sat there, neither looking at the other, for at least a minute. Carolina idly scratched at a line in the metal floor. Girlie stared at her feet.

“…I meant what I said, in Armonia,” Carolina said, finally. “I’m sorry. We were told you were the enemy. We— I was doing what I believed had to be done. It doesn’t change what happened and it doesn’t excuse it, but it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, well— you’re fucking right, it doesn’t excuse shit,” Girlie said, still not lifting her gaze. “But— ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know. You don’t get— look, I’ve spent fucking years blaming you, Carolina. Years. Wanting to kill you Freelancers was the only motivation I had! That’s not— fucking— ugh.”

Dropping her head into her hands, she cursed under her breath. This was uncomfortable. Sitting next to the woman she’d hated for years—hell, that she might still hate, she didn’t fucking know—was fucking uncomfortable, talking to her was even worse. She’d never talked about this with anyone, how was she supposed to talk about it with her?

“You may not believe it, but I… get it,” Carolina said. Girlie dared a glance out of the corner of her eye—she looked uncomfortable, too, still scratching at that indent in the floor. “I spent years hunting down the person to blame for what happened at Freelancer. Finding him consumed my life. I was in a bad place and I made decisions I’m not proud of.”

Girlie averted her gaze again. Guess that did sound rather her past few years.

“Then I found him and— I couldn’t do it.” The scratching stopped. “The moment I had spent so long building up to and I couldn’t do it. I had to make the decision to move forward and to try and do better. Still, I’ve made choices I wouldn’t make again. Things have happened to make it more difficult. It’s… a process.”

When Girlie finally looked at her, she was biting her lip. Must have been doing so for a while; it had split. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I think you need to hear it,” Carolina said, meeting her eye for the briefest of moments. “There’s a way forward, Girlie. Take it from me, because I’ve been there. I am there.”

…Carolina was a different woman than she’d expected her to be.

She didn’t know what to say, not at first, but she knew she should say something. Silence hung over them for what felt like the millionth time, dense and unsettled, until Carolina sighed and stood up. Tucked her helmet under her arm and went to leave. Took three steps down the ramp and—

“I saw them, when you knocked me into that portal. My team,” Girlie said, before she could change her mind. Carolina stopped still. “I saw them die. All over again. Except— except the thing was, that wasn’t the thing that scared me. What fucking scared me was I couldn’t find anyone to blame. It was just me, and my dead friends. No one to aim my anger at. That was the worst part.”

“Because there had to be a clear cause for all of this. If there wasn’t, what did that mean for you?”

Girlie didn’t answer, but she figured that itself was answer enough. Guess Carolina did understand.

“…pushing you into the portal was the quickest way to finish the fight. I wasn’t sure if it would still… run the test,” Carolina said. Turning back to her, she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Girlie shook her head. “Nah, look, if I hadn’t gone into that thing? No way in hell I’d be here right now. You mentioning Charon planted the seed of doubt but it fucking bloomed in that place. I probably would’ve kept fighting you until you had to kill me without that.” With a sigh of her own, she rubbed her face. “Fell for the same bullshit twice. Charon’s good, I’ll give them that. I don’t— this is— a lot, you know? Like my whole world’s been torn out from under me. I don’t know how to feel about any of this. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do now.”

“Well, helping us would be a good start.” Pausing, she chewed her lip for a moment and then smiled faintly. “After that, I happen to know a group that have a habit of taking in people with nowhere else to go.”

“Huh.” Didn’t know how she felt about that just now, but… “Uh, one thing at a time. I did kinda give the assholes the to genocide, literally, so yeah, sure, helping. Uh— one problem, though.”

Carolina titled her head.

“I can’t fucking walk.”

“Oh, right. That’s a problem.”

“No shit,” Girlie said with a snort of laughter. “Like I said, genius or not there’s no way I’m having surgery done in a canyon in bumfuck nowhere. And you really dealt the final blow with that kick of yours.”

Carolina was quiet for a moment, though she still moved as if she were mid-conversation. Must have been talking to Epsilon internally again. Girlie flicked her eyes around the canyon, passing the time.

“Think you could do your thing from the seat of a Warthog?” she said, maybe a minute later. “With the right weapon?”

“Yeah, sure, guess so,” Girlie said with a shrug. Then, raising a brow, “What exactly are you guys planning, anyway?”

Carolina’s lips twitched into a slight smirk. “Well…”

The plan, as it turned out, was ever so slightly crazy—but apparently that’s just how these guys worked, so who was she to question it? Wasn’t like she had any better ideas and after what she’d done, the least she could do was go along with their batshit plan and help to make sure it worked.

The Freelancers were already at the Purge Temple by the time they arrived at the Comm. Temple for their final assault. Girlie provided them as much extra intel as she can before they left, even if she still felt awkward as hell talking to their of them. They’d been shocked by the information that the Counselor was up on the Tartarus—so yeah, her hunch was right—but there was no time to dwell on it let alone confront him. They had to be satisfied with the fact their plan would kill him, quite spectacularly in fact. Ship crashes were a hell of a way to go.

(God, what the fuck was this plan.)

Girlie was driven to the temple by some of Carolina’s colourful companions—the red coloured ones, or well, warm coloured ones (seriously, one of them was orange? How did these colour schemes work?). The Orange one was actually a hell of a driver, she later found out, but the drive there was spent listening to the two Reds in the Warthog with her bickering. Kinda amusing, really, it was hard not to crack a bit of a smile and she had to cough to hide a laugh at one particular quip. It was a dynamic she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Hey, lady—” the orange one—Grif, she thought they called him— said as the fight finally kicked off, “—do me a favour and like, be careful firing that thing. We only got the one jeep.”

“Girlie,” Girlie corrected, casually.

She could practically hear the confused squint. “What?”

“My name’s Girlie, not lady.”

“Same difference, isn’t it?”

“…touché, I’ll almost give you that, but no.” Shaking her head, she securely balanced the alien gun on the edge of the Warthog. “And don’t worry about it, I’m not gonna shoot the damn jeep.” Pause. “How many times has—?”

“You don’t even wanna know.”

“—alright then. You’re— an interesting bunch.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Grif said, shrugging. That didn’t surprise her at all.

With the Pirates so severely undermanned after they turned Armonia into a nuke the fight was easy. Grif drove, his boyfriend and Girlie shot the Pirates’ vehicles and anyone who got too close, respectively, and the Chorusans with their alien weapons made mincemeat of the remaining attackers—or well, dust. Mostly dust.

Honestly? It was almost fun. Grif was a damn good driver and the alien gun felt powerful in her hands. She hadn’t seen action like this in years and hey, the fact she was wrecking a bunch of Charon’s men in the name of a planet that was one short step from Insurrectionist? That certainly sweetened the deal.

They were inside the tower within an hour, at the most. Not long after that, the Freelancers reappeared. Armour looking a little scuffed in places, but okay. Clearly, the plan had worked. All that was left to do was for them to go broadcast their message and expose Charon; they’d have to keep fighting the stragglers in the meantime, but that was easy enough.

Until the Mantis appeared. That complicated things, just a bit.

Girlie found herself sitting in a Warthog being used as a blockade at the temple entrance, helping Kimball and some of the other Chorusan soldiers hold the position whilst the colourful assholes did their thing and Carolina did hers.

…she watched Carolina tear that Mantis apart with her bare hands and hey, look, she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t attractive as hell. Carolina was a complicated mess of emotions in her head—the woman she hated for years but also the first person to ever just talk to her about what had happened—but she didn’t need to untangle it to know how hot that was.

But then more Mantises dropped, more people died, and a call came in that her team was cornered by a bunch of Charon goons with no guarantee that they could get to them in time.

So she watched Carolina tear onto the nearest Pelican, Washington not far behind. Watched her as they returned, looking frantic as she helped take the injured to where they needed to be. Watched her scramble to make sure that her team was all okay, whilst clearly knotted tight with distress herself. Watched her take care of her team, saw that other dimension of her that she’d never imagined could exist mere days ago.

Everything had changed and she still had no idea where she stood.

But dammit, she was going to figure it out this time.

She had to.

Over the following days Carolina was all but completely absent from anywhere that wasn’t either the makeshift training hall or the equally makeshift hospital. People were slowly starting to move back towards some of Chorus’ other old population centres but the process was slow and it wasn’t worth moving the patients before a real hospital was set up. Various members of Carolina’s team were still under observation, most notably the other aqua one—Tucker?—who’d been running the suit that saved them.

(Girlie wondered how seeing that suit, that familiar domed helmet and white armour, had felt for Carolina. If it had given her pause, she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Carolina.)

If she was honest, Girlie had been keeping her distance anyway. Her feelings about Carolina were still a tangled mess; some days she felt that residual rage, whilst others she wanted to talk to her and hear what she had to say. Things were too messy right now for both of them to expend anymore energy discussing their past; the present was much more important.

So Girlie spent most of her time doing odd jobs around the canyon, like helping out with moving things onto transport Warthogs. They’d managed to dig a wheelchair for her from somewhere, giving her the freedom of movement she needed. Days flew by with little issue, with the most dramatic thing that happened being the time a Warthog started driving before they were done and everything fell out. Girlie may not have known anyone there on Chorus, and people were hesitant to talk to one of the ex-Pirates, but helping out had started to build a few bridges.

Things were okay. Her life had more purpose in those few days than it had felt like it had had in years. Felt almost like getting back to her roots, helping out this backwater colony where there were already whispers of not wanting to re-join the UEG. How many years had it been now since they packed up the cell and joined the UNSC? How long had she been doing their dirty work for them, because they weren’t given a choice in the matter? How long had it been since she really worked to help the people the UNSC was fucking over?

Too long, she decided, as she helped some kid that couldn’t be older than sixteen move another crate. Too fucking long.

It had been almost a week when she saw Carolina sitting alone in the rudimentary mess hall, alone. The few times she’d seen her in the week prior she’d been almost constantly flanked by Washington, almost fused at the hip, but he was nowhere to be seen. Carolina looked half-dead and was mindlessly scrolling on her data-pad, cheek leant heavily into the palm of her other hand.

Girlie hesitated in the doorway, watching her for longer than she perhaps should have. She was worrying that bottom lip of hers again, though not hard enough to split it. Bright green eyes flicked up and down her screen without really looking. The bags under her eyes had only gotten darker.

Fuck it.

Wheeling over to the old coffee machine she made two cups, one made just how she liked it—a normal amount of milk and a shit ton of sugar—the other black, then stuffed a bunch of sugar packets and creamers into an empty cup. Making a girl shitty coffee she couldn’t drink wouldn’t be a good first impression, better to let her modify it herself.

Then, with a deep breath, she approached the table.

“Hey, uh— you look like you might need this,” she said, holding up the black coffee. Carolina raised her head, looking momentarily surprised, but then exhaled with a faint laugh.

“I don’t know if I should be insulted or grateful,” she said, as she took the cup. Girlie manoeuvred so she could pull herself up close to the table and set down the cup of extras. Carolina considered them for a moment, before shaking her head and taking a gulp of the unmodified coffee.

“You’ve had a tough— well I was gonna say week, but few years might be more accurate. Point is, you’re allowed to look as shitty as you feel,” Girlie said with a shrug, sipping her own. After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “…they’ll be okay. It’s not my place to say a thing, course, but— they’ll be okay. They seem like stubborn enough assholes.”

Carolina didn’t respond at first, but she did offer her a tired smile before taking another long swig. Her eyes slid shut as she let the warmth fill her and she breathed out a sigh. “I never told you what I saw in the portal, did I?”

A little taken aback, Girlie set down her cup.

“Nah, I don’t… think we were on those kind of terms then. I mean, I told you because I was making a point, y’know?” She shrugged. “Didn’t think we were on those terms now. Y’know, seeing as I spent days trying to kill you.”

“I saw almost the same thing you saw. I had to watch my families, die.”

“…oh, shit.”

“That and— what happened to Epsilon,” she bit her lip a little harder, threatened to burst it, “has me a little more concerned than maybe I should be about a few broken bones and a couple bullet wounds.”

“That Santa guy—” she couldn’t believe she was actually calling that thing Santa, “—sure likes that trope, huh? What an asshole.” Carolina cracked a smile. Girlie called that a win. “Look I don’t know the whole story here but if those guys have survived everything I’ve heard about lately, they’ll come out of this no worse for wear.” Then, added quickly, “Physically.”

They’d lost one of their own. Girlie knew first-hand how badly that could hit a team.

“Physically,” Carolina said sombrely. They both sat nursing their coffee for a few minutes of silence that wasn’t quite comfortable but wasn’t quite awkward, before she spoke again. “You know, you’re not so bad, when you’re not trying to kill me.”

Girlie glanced up at her and found her smiling again, still tired but seemingly genuine.

“…yeah. Yeah you’re not so bad either. When you’re not trying to kill me.”

Carolina chuckled and Girlie cracked a smile of her own, shaking her head as she reached for another packet of sugar. That started an entire discussion about their respective abominations of the coffee kind, Carolina finding her heavily sweetened milky mixture unbearable whilst Girlie could never stomach coffee as raw as Carolina’s. It was kinda silly, really, but it kept their minds from wandering towards anything more depressing.

That conversation was the start of a very tentative, but growing, friendship. Things were still complicated; Girlie had years of anger to unpack but she was more than willing to work at it, to get away from the ghosts that had haunted her for years. Carolina wasn’t the woman she’d built her up to be, she could never have been that; that woman was one-dimensional, cruel and without remorse, none of which could ever describe the woman she’d come to know.

She was complex and complicated, filled with so much remorse that it seemed to eat away at her constantly, but more than that she was absolutely and unshakably devoted to the people she cared about. She always seemed like she had something to prove, like she couldn’t stop. Her laughter was rare but bright and shameless when it came. Her jokes were dry and almost always perfectly timed—almost. On a good day there was an energy that radiated from her that felt absolutely unique to her.

Girlie saw more and more of those things as time went by, as her team left hospital and Chorus was gifted aid, as everything started to move forward. They didn’t talk much during the days, where Carolina would be working with Washington and Kimball whilst Girlie worked odd jobs around the foundations of New Armonia—a repurposed population centre, being slowly expanded. But after a long day, Girlie found it refreshing to slump against a wall somewhere with Carolina and just… talk.

About the Reds, who she’d slowly started to fall into place with. About the Reds and Blues in general, their ridiculous antics. About their individual work around New Armonia. And, when their heads were clearer and most of the tension had faded, the past.

“It’s… difficult, talking to Wash about what happened,” Carolina said, one day, after a couple of drinks had left them both pliable for heavy talk. After she’d told Girlie about her side of the final years of the Project. “I’m trying—we’re trying—but… I suppose a level of detachment helps. No, detachment probably isn’t the right word…”

Girlie chuckled, elbowed her. “Yeah I wouldn’t call talking to one of the people you nearly killed ‘detachment’. But I get what you’re saying.”

“Funny how some years can be some of the best but also the worst of your life.” Carolina sighed, dropped her head back against the wall. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she spoke with amusement in her voice, “Have I told you about the time Maine put York’s helmet on top of one of the ceiling beams?”

“Nope.”

“Maine was the tallest, by a huge margin. No one else could reach those beams without climbing something. York tried all sorts of things to get up there but eventually he had to promise Maine his desserts for a week to get them to retrieve it.”

“Wow. What did he do to earn that contempt?”

“You know, I can’t remember. Probably some ill-advised joke.”

“Sounds like the kind of thing the Chain twins would’ve done for fun,” Girlie said, her head dropping against Carolina’s shoulder without thinking. “Always up to shit, those two. You know they used to call you guys by the wrong designations and even colours on purpose all the time? Made it real hard to keep track of who they were actually talking about.”

Carolina laughed, the kind of full on laughter Girlie had only ever been able to pry out of her when a good day and some alcohol had helped her relax, the kind that had started hitting Girlie right in the chest.

She didn’t know when the vague attraction she had towards Carolina as a fighter—as started by her ripping apart a Mantis—had become more than that and she almost didn’t want to know. The shift from hatred, to confliction, to friendship to— to— whatever this was, was confusing and had happened over the space of such a short time that she swore it had given her whiplash.

At first she’d put it down to her lack of human contact over the past few years but when her spending time with the Reds had gotten more frequent and those feelings towards Carolina had continued to grow, didn’t know what to think.

And now her head was on Carolina’s shoulder and she was laughing at a dumb story she’d told and look, there was only so much a girl could handle.

Carolina had given her a second chance—given her a new damn life by being willing to offer her that.

Despite their history, they were different people than they were all those years ago. So much had happened and Girlie was surprised by how much of their experiences were mirrored, how easy that made it to talk about even with one of the people who had caused her own pain.

So maybe being into her wasn’t much weirder, or maybe it was that much weirder, who the fuck knows. Either way the attachment was there and Girlie didn’t think she wanted to shake it. Though she didn’t know if she wanted to act on it, either.

For now she was happy enough to just sit there, head on Carolina’s shoulder and enjoying her company. If Carolina’s head dropped against hers, then that was only a bonus.

Time flew by and New Armonia started to take shape. Elections were organised. People were slowly settling into non-military jobs despite remaining technically enlisted until things had settled.

Girlie found her place helping to create strongholds and maximise their supplies, making sure they’d never be left struggling again, even should the negotiations with the UEG go badly. She was no politician, she never had been; the best way she could help these people was to share the skills she’d learned during her days in the Insurrection.

It was nice to feel like she might be making a difference.

By the end of the second month after the final fight, she’d officially been declared a member of Red Team. That was fun, they were fun. Sarge acted kind of like the grumpy old dad she’d never really had; Donut was an all around entertainer, whether he meant to be or not; Simmons was a gigantic nerd, but they’d found a little solidarity in their respective ‘cyborg’ statuses; and Grif was a great guy to relax with, they’d gotten on well since that first day in the jeep. Having a team again took some getting used to and she had to remind herself often that she wasn’t replacing her family, but it was refreshing. Feeling as if she had a home.

As she settled, she watched Carolina do the same. Blue Team had absorbed her into their number and Carolina fit in fine, once she started to relax. Everything after the Staff of Charon had been a seemingly never-ending process of handling the aftermath, of handling their loss, but time and distance let them start to heal.

They still spent many of their evenings together, wandering around the city or sitting somewhere away from the bustle of the occupied sectors. After Girlie’s surgery Carolina even helped her with her physio and then sparring, getting her back to full strength. Girlie did her best to return the favour by listening and helping her figure out how to talk to Washington.

Talking and sparring had helped her work out her issues, more than anything. Where her old resentments lingered, she knew to ignore them. They were in-built, a coping mechanism from a time long passed, but that didn’t mean she had to listen to them. Nah, she could tell them to fuck off.

Carolina was amused by her methods. Apparently she’d never thought of telling the intrusive voice in her head to fuck off quite so literally. Girlie told her she should try it some time.

If she were honest, Girlie had expected if her feelings towards Carolina to fade over time. Expected that the crush was just that, a crush brought on by unexpected kindness from an attractive woman after years of being alone. Instead, the more she got to know Carolina the more she liked her.

Still, she didn’t dare make a move.

Nah. Apparently, that was down to Carolina.

They were changing after a long sparring session, unbothered by undressing around each other as they took off their sweaty work-out clothes. They’d been bantering back and forth all afternoon and it hadn’t stopped once they left the training hall.

“You know,” Girlie said, putting her tank away and grabbing a new shirt, “I still have a massive scar from where you stabbed me with that— knife-rifle thing.”

Carolina raised a brow, glancing back at her. Girlie turned her torso so she could see the large scar that ran up the centre of her chest. It was just a joking comment, just teasing, but Carolina gained this glint in her eye and retorted with a very serious sounding, “What do you want me to do about it? Kiss it better?”

Which was the moment Girlie knew she was absolutely and truly fucked.

“I can do that, if you’d like,” she continued, setting down what she was holding and walking in her direction.

“Uh—” Girlie’s brain stalled, words caught in the back of her throat. Was this happening? No way this was happening. “…do you want to?”

Carolina’s answer was to approach her and crouch down just enough so that she could easily press light kisses up the length of the scar. A shiver ran down Girlie’s spine as she tried to process what was happening, something she still hadn’t achieved by the time Carolina stood up and kissed her on the lips.

Okay. Yeah. That was happening.

Stunned as she was it took her an age to return it, but she did. Her hands settled on Carolina’s arms, firm muscle and cold metal. Her eyes slid shut and she took in the feeling of her lips against hers, the slight bump of the scar tissue in the middle of her lower lip.

When Carolina pulled away, Girlie’s eyes remained closed for a good ten seconds longer. Processing.

“Holy shit, okay. Yeah, alright, that’s—”

“Satisfactory?” Carolina said, an amused note to her voice. When Girlie finally opened her eyes she found her smirking.

“…yeah. Satisfactory’s a word,” Girlie said, idly flicking her tongue over her lips. “I’m gonna kiss you again now.”

And she did, catching a laughing Carolina’s lips with hers, pulling her close.

If anyone had told her, years ago, that this was where her future was headed, she wouldn’t have believed them.

But hey, things never did turn out as she expected, did they?

[bloodgulchblue-blog]

In The Shade - a RvB fic

Grif can tell Sarge what they weren't doing parked in the shade for 2 hours.

Rating: M // Length: 2549 words // Pairing: Grimmons Tags: some sappiness, some nsfw, some angst, who knows where i was going with this one? not me!

“What were you doing parked in the shade for two hours?” “Well, I can tell you weren’t doing...”

"I'm stopping here, I need to catch my breath." Grif said, driving back behind a huge pillar of rock and into the shade it created. "You know, you have a really good arm with that stuff. I never would have thought you could hit that foot-shaped boulder with the dynamite. Where did you get that stuff anyway?" "Sarge keeps a large stash of it by his nightstand... I always thought it was kind of odd, but since I'm the only other one allowed in his room since he hates you and Donut can't even find his way around the fucking base, I can borrow some whenever I want to," Simmons was speaking with a matter-of-fact tone as he fidgeted with his helmet. He stopped as he finished his sentence to face Grif again. "Why does he hate you so much, anyway?" "Some people just make mistakes, I guess. I'm pretty awesome, so I mean, it's his loss." Grif was crossing his arms now, and Simmons narrowed his eyes behind his visor and sighed dismissively. "Yyyeah, nevermind, I remember why.. Okay. Anyways, I'm starting to get a bad feeling about parking here." Looking down at the floor of the jeep below him, he couldn't pinpoint what was making him feel weird. "What? Why? Simmons, don't tell me you miss Sarge that bad already, we've been gone like fifteen minutes." "Huh? No! Don't be stupid, it's the jeep, it sounds different." "Sounds different? Man, you're hearing things now. You're losing it for real." "No, I'm not." Simmons was losing patience for his orange-armored teammate. Though, honestly he had none to begin with. "Loosen up, Dimmons. We're just stopping for a little bit anyways." Grif was having none of it and slid down in his seat, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He fully intended to take a nap. "Wait, 'Dimmons'?" Simmons asked, unsure whether to even be offended. "Yeah, Dimmons. Like, dim. As in not bright. See? You didn't even catch something simple like that. Dimmons." The maroon-armored man just stared at him. "That is the dumbest thing you've ever come up with. It's almost impressive." he remarked. Grif didn't respond, just sunk lower in his seat. So the silence began. It had been about five minutes and all the sound there was was the low rumble of the Warthog; And five minutes of silence is a long fucking time in Blood Gulch. Simmons was fidgety from the feeling of anxiety regarding the Warthog, but Grif couldn't be more relaxed. Simmons looked around for something to do. His sight caught the dynamite again for a second, but he decided that wasn't the best idea. He briefly thought about how he wished Grif was even capable of having second thoughts like that. The Warthog shifted as Grif sat up some. "I'm bored." "Let's go back then. The jeep is being weird." "It's the same as it was ten minutes ago, Simmons. Just let it go," "I'm serious!" "You're always serious, could you take it easy for a while? Jeez, I should expect nothing less from the kiss-ass." Grif sneered. Simmons groaned. "Fine, but when something goes wrong- not if, when- you do not get to blame it on me. And I get to say I told you so." "Fine. Tightass."

Ten minutes went by. Vague conversation led to deeper questions and discussions about things going on in the Gulch. Simmons seemed way more into the discussion than Grif unless Grif was the one talking. It was actually sort of nice; It was refreshing compared to the constant ridiculous grumbling and bickering. They were both thinking it.

“So, what I’m saying is, honestly, who fuckin’ cares which side of the canyon we’re on, whichever color we’re wearing or anything like that?” Grif threw his hands up in a heated shrug, nearly knocking one into Simmons’s helmet. “Jesus... Yeah, I mean you’re right, it’s pretty goddamn stupid.Especially given that it’s a canyon, with no fucking merit to have control over anyway. Not to mention the fact that you’d do the same amount of not working on either side.” Simmons agreed, holding Grif’s hand away from his helmet. The orange tinted soldier pulled it away and shifted in his seat to face him more.”Dude, I don’t even know what you guys look like.” he stated with a voice of discontent. That clearly had been on his mind for a while. There was a pause.

“Take your helmet off.”

“What? No! Why? You take your helmet off!”

“Okay, fine. Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

“Don’t say it like that. Why would I do that? I’d probably die if I did.”

“Why would you die? Stop being a baby and take it off; Look, same time,” Grif put his hands on the sides of his helmet, ready to pull it off. Simmons knew Grif may be lazy, but that never stops him from being stubborn as hell when he wants something. He can be stubborn as hell about being lazy as hell. But right now, he wanted him... Wait, that sounded weird. Scratch that. Simmons caved.

“Fine, same time. God this is so fucking stupid.” he remarked, but his hands went up to his helmet anyways. “Ready?”

“Okay, one... Two... Three!” Grif counted down and Simmons pulled off his helmet. Only Simmons.

Grif hadn’t pulled hard enough to get it off the first time, and then stopped trying as he got... Distracted. Simmons’s tan skin and red hair are what he saw first, then his out-of-focus brown eyes, then, oh god, his freckles. Grif’s eyes were wide behind his visor, and suddenly his helmet was really hot. Simmons was just pissed off and embarrassed, glaring at him for fooling him into being the only one without his helmet. He reached over and put his hands on top of Grif’s on his helmet, ready to pull it off. “No, I’m not being the only one to do this, fuck you. Take that thing off, asshole. That’s not fair!” Simmons was pulling on the helmet, but from his angle it wasn’t exactly easy. Grif snapped out of it. “Okay, okay, fine, Jesus... Let go of me! I’m taking it off!” he knocked Simmons’s hands away and slid his helmet off of his head. His brown hair bounced down in a fluff. Simmons grabbed his glasses from where he’d put them in his armor and slid them onto his face.

Their eyes met, and there was silence. Simmons looked him over; His dark skin and the hazel eyes capturing him in an instant. Grif had a couple of tiny moles on his face, one under his left eye and one right above his jawline... It was cute, Simmons thought. Then he realized what he was thinking and now both of their faces were hot.

Staring at eachother was a strange experience. Both of them didn’t want to look away, but also didn’t want to seem weird. Not to mention now both of their cheeks were hot. It was getting to where they were aching to put their hands on the other’s face to closer examine it. Grif cleared his throat. “Uh. You wear... Glasses?” he asked, speaking up after what seemed like ages. That made Simmons look down and away a bit. “Yeah, my visor has the prescription I need though, so I only carry them around in case my visor cracks or something. I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t with you guys around. It’s good to be prepared.” he explained. Grif was amazed to finally put this voice to this face. Simmons thought the same. “So,” Simmons said, thought he started it and had no idea where he was going with it.

“Yeah. So. Uh, this is usually the part where I’d initiate truth or dare or something. If you were a girl.” Catching himself with that remark, it sounded more forced than ever. Are you kidding? Who knows how many years of sexual tension they had built up with their bickering and with Grif’s occasional gay remark, and how could we forget Grif’s calling Simmons gay. Of course he’d propose something as childish as that. Simmons knew something like that was coming eventually. He rolled his eyes, looking away from him and crossing his arms. “That’s the dumbest thing you could have said right now.” he said, not meeting his eyes. He looked troubled. Grif furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him, trying to see his face better again. “Uh, are you okay dude...?” he asked, kind of confused, but sounding more impatient as he wanted to see his face more and now the guy’s fuckin’ hiding it or something.

“Yeah, of course I’m fine? Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Simmons replied defensively. He seemed insecure about his appearance, though Grif had run into some hints towards that before. “Is this like... Like when you hide in the bathroom and cry, and then I go in there and the mirror’s all cracked up from you punching the shit out of your reflection?” he asked bluntly. Simmons tensed. Ouch. Grif sighed. “I don’t know why you do that. I think you look good, honestly. You know, for a dude.”

Simmons bit the inside of his cheek, looking back at Grif as he put his hand on his shoulder. Grif patted there, looking at him. “Cheer up, jackass. I mean, look at me. You could be this unlucky.” he said with a little laugh. “This is the only time I’ll admit you’re hotter than me. Hope you recorded that because I’m not saying it again.” Simmons’s face was hot again.

“Oh yeah. I got that on recording for sure.” he said, and Grif huffed.

“Good, then now you have something new to jerk off to when Sarge won’t tell you ‘Good work, Simmons!’“ he teased.

Simmons groaned. “God, you’re unbearable.”

Grif moved a little closer to him. “Hey, uh.” he had no control over the words that were leaving his mouth, they poured out like a waterfall pieced together from rash thoughts, “So, I mean, we’re alone, and I know you like what you see, and if I admit that so do I, do you think that maybe uh... We could do something about that?” he was looking at Simmons while he leaned kind of closer. Simmons’s eyes widened.

“What? Dude, and you call me gay all the time? That was gay. You want to do gay stuff with me?” he was in awe, taken aback by Grif’s proposition, but Grif took it as him shooting him down.

“Fine, okay, yeah, nevermind.”

“No,wait I uh. Okay, sure, I’m not really... Opposed. I guess. God, this is stupid.” his cheeks were burning, and he didn’t even know what Grif had in mind. Grif didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the yes before Simmons changed his mind, grabbing the ginger by the front of his armor and yanking him closer, kissing him immediately. God, they’d both forgotten what human contact felt like, and, well, Simmons never knew. Not kissing anyways. And definitely not more than that. Simmons was so tense that Grif broke away from the kiss to speak again.

“Dude, chill the fuck out, we’re the only two in the middle of this desert. Your secret is totally safe with me.” he said mockingly. A look of bewilderment crossed Simmons’s already distressed expression.

“What? My secret?! This was your idea!” he argued, and Grif of course ignored that completely and kissed him again, closing his eyes. Simmons couldn’t help but give in, allowing himself to, as Grif said it, ‘chill the fuck out’. He melted into the contact and his eyelids fell half shut. He leaned in slightly closer and put his hands on the sides of Grif’s face, then moved one to the orange soldier’s hair. This wasn’t happening, he thought, he’d wake up with a boner any minute now, he was pretty sure of it. Though, it just kept happening. It was still happening. Still. It’s really happening. Oh god, he thought, this is really happening and I have no idea how it works. Simmons grew tense again and Grif just moved his hands to wrap around Simmons’s middle and pull him closer. Simmons broke away and opened his eyes, looking at Grif, who then also opened his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Grif asked him, not trying to overstep any weird boundaries with him or something... Boundaries were something Simmons had a lot of, many of which Grif overstepped on a daily basis. But these would be in a whole new category.

“Yes I’m... I just don’t really, uh. Know how to do this.” he admitted, though he was aware that this was common knowledge.

“You’re doing fine, just-” Grif was interrupted by the Warthog sputtering under them and promptly falling out of commission completely. “Oh, god damn it. You have got to be kidding me.”

Simmons’s eyes grey wide and he moved back from Grif, though he stayed in his arms how he was being held. “I knew it! I knew there was something wrong with the jeep and you didn’t believe me, and now it’s dead! We’re dead!” he yelled in his usual panicked voice that came out when anything went wrong. Grif held onto him tighter. “It’s. Fine. Jesus, Simmons, you’d think by now you’d learn how to let something go but here we are, in the middle of sharing a fuckin’ moment, and you’re intent on yelling about something that doesn’t matter.”

“It does, matter, Grif! A lot!” he was this close to jumping out of the car and running back on his own, but something was keeping him from that. And it wasn’t the fact that Grif had a hold on him like he was the last person on the planet. It was the fact that it was Grif, and that we was in this situation. With him. “It’s... Fine, it’ll be... Okay...” he slowly calmed down, resting back to where he was before.

“Thank Christ... Uh, so where were we?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

--

A while later, and I mean a while, they arrived back to the others. They had a few more marks under their armor than they did going in, and under their helmets they wore wide, knowing grins. They both knew it’d be back to normal soon, though. Approaching them was none other than Sarge.

“Grif, Simmons, where’ve you two been?”

Simmons straightened up. “Our patrol didn’t go exactly as planned, Sarge.”

Yeah, I’ll say, Grif thought with a dumb smirk on his now chapped lips.

Sarge furrowed his brows beneath his visor and was paying closer attention now. “Did you find something? Wait a minute, where’s the jeep?”

Grif took a breath. This was gonna be interesting to explain away. “Yeeeah, it’s like this.”

[renaroo]

Recovery None (60/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex, Sisouth Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: I am... I’m not sure how to feel considering that we’re a single chapter away from it just being done for good and that’s... wow this is literally the largest thing I have ever written to completion in my life and I’m just... really grateful for everyone who has come on this journey with me because I know it’s been a very very wild ride at the times, had its ups and downs, but it means a lot to have had all of you traveling that road with me. I hope I do you all justice as we wrap things up. And, who knows, I think I have a few surprises still in store for you who think you know how this all ends ; ) 

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @notatroll7, @analiarvb, @xhauntedangel, @washingtonstub, @every-survival, @icefrozenover, Yin, and irismon for the feedback!

Recovery Two XVIII: The Party Don’t Stop

South honestly had no idea what she was to expect on the other side of the transporter’s green flash and nauseating sense of repositioning. But she really could have predicted almost anything other than the Red nerd running face first into her chest plate. 

“Ow!” he whined, hitting the snow.

Theta popped up over South’s shoulder and tilted his head at the Red. “You should really watch where you’re going.”

Annoyed, South put a fist into the palm of her hand. “Or he was just volunteering to be the first thing I punched while I was here, which would be very kind of him,” South answered threateningly. 

Humming, Theta looked toward the Red almost sympathetically. “You could always apologize. I’ll put a good word in for you.” 

“Ah! You’re the bodyguard! This is great!” he said, scrambling back to his feet. “Don’t tell the others that I ran into you. Just let them think I contacted you. I honestly had no idea how I was going to do that anyway, but Washington is really scary when he wants something done.”

Lowering her hands, South looked incredulously at the simulation trooper. “You’re intimidated by Wash? What the fuck kind of soldier is intimidated by Wash?”

“One who doesn’t want to get shot?” he replied. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he kind of really hates people in Red armor. I’m in maroon armor. It’s the second most Red armor of the team. I basically have a target on me. Which isn’t supposed to happen because it’s not like I’m Grif!” 

A bit alarmed, Theta put a hand over his mouth. “Oh no! Why is there a target on Kaikaina?” 

“Who?” the trooper replied. 

“You mean her brother, I’d hope,” South said warningly. “Especially since I am her bodyguard and all. Wouldn’t really appreciate people threatening my protectorate.” 

Theta glanced at her sidelong. “That’s not what that word means.”

“Shut up,” South said before could even finish. 

“Okay, how many of the floating holographic guys are there?” Simmons finally asked. “That one dude that everyone’s freaking out about already has, like, at least half a dozen.”

“What?” South asked, looking at him seriously. “What new white guy!?”

Simmons’ head tilted even further. “The... one who isn’t the Wyoming guy trying to kill us?”

South’s eyes narrowed and Theta throbbed uneasily in her head. “Is this white guy also trying to kill you even though he isn’t Wyoming?” she asked seriously.

“Well, I thought that went without saying these days,” Simmons shrugged. “I mean... who have we met in the past week who hasn’t been trying unreasonably hard to kill us?”

Looking back toward the teleporter, South cracked her neck from side to side. “That means it can only be one person,” she said resolutely.

“Yep,” Theta nodded along with her.

Looking less than convinced, Simmons glanced between the two of them. “Really? You think it can only be one other guy on the whole planet who’s wearing white armor? What is it with you Freelancer guys?”

“It’s the guy who killed my brother, asswipe, show some respect!” South snapped at him. “Pretty damn sure he’s the other guy in white armor who is trying extraordinarily hard to be a pain in my ass and kill us all for AI and enhancements.”

Shocked, Simmons raised up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I didn’t know about the brother thing! Jesus. Everyone’s randomly revealing siblings and babies and craziness today!”

“Crazy...” South trailed off. “You haven’t seen crazy yet today,” she announced before grabbing Simmons by his chest plate’s strap and pulling him up to her. “Alright, asshole. You run back to the others and tell them I’m bringing you some backup you sure as hell probably don’t deserve. And you tell them that if anyone is killing this bastard it’s going to be me, got it?” 

Visibly shaken, Simmons looked side to side for help that wasn’t anywhere to be found. “I-I think I can remember that? Maybe not all of that... would you be okay with some paraphrasing?”

“No,” South snapped.

“Then let me write it down!” Simmons begged.

“Oh my god we’re wasting time talking,” South groaned. 

“Yeah, it’s all we know how to do, maybe you all should try it more,” Simmons offered before South pushed him to the snow. 

“Go hold off the Meta with the others. I’ll be coming with reinforcements.”

“Can I just tell everyone that part instead?” Simmons asked, but South was officially done listening to him.

"Just do what I said or I’ll punch you,” South warned as she headed back toward the bright green light of the teleporter.” Just as she began to step through, she could hear the rustling of the snow behind her as Simmons walked off. 

“Man you sound just like Tex,” he sighed.

A subconscious twitch came to South’s eye and she nearly turned around to question that statement, but she was already far enough into the teleportation field that she found herself whirling through space and landing in the confusing annoyance that was the box canyon from earlier.

And despite everything, Kaikaina and her brother were still sitting on the same ledge where she had left them. Except the turquoise one from the Horrific Incident That Shall Not Be Named was behind them. 

“Oh wow, did you kick ass that fast? You’re, like, the best fake bodyguard ever!” Kai exclaimed.

“Or the worst,” Grif said, looking South up and down. “That was too fast. She definitely ran away from the fight. Everyone we know is probably dead already.”

“Oh, like you’d do anything different,” the turquoise one said with a flick of his wrist. 

“I didn’t say I’d do anything different. I think it’s the smartest fucking thing any of these Freelancer assholes have done since they met us,” Grif announced before looking back toward South. “Congratulations. Hope you enjoy the good life with the rest of us survivors.”

South leered. “I did not come here because I was running. I came back here because circumstances have changed. I need equipment, and I need men.”

“Ah, fuck, I was hitting on you this whole time, too,” Kai groaned. “Can you settle for a strap on?”

“Wait what?” Grif said immediately.

The turquoise one turned so quickly on his heels he nearly toppled over. Though he then tried to make it work for him (it didn’t) by leaning back against a pillar and giving South two finger guns. “Helloooo. My name’s Lavernius Tucker. Single father. Lover. And love doctor.”

South stared at him. “I saw an alien burst out of your stomach, like, two hours ago.”

“Yeah, I mentioned the single father line already,” Tucker replied casually.

“You know what, I honestly don’t care,” South said flatly before looking around. “Where’s Four Seven Niner and that tank? And I saw a M12 ATV parked in front of the Red Base earlier. I’ll take that, too. We’ll need all of it and anything you might’ve hidden away in the respective armories of this purgatory of canyon.”

"Wow, they really must teach you Freelancers something special. It took me at least a week before I realized that this canyon is literally the first footstep into Hell,” Grif said flatly.

“Uh, if you mean Sheila and her new lady friend who totally doesn’t seem down with babysitting when Doc asked to take turns, they’re down there. On the ground. Where the giant tank is,” Tucker announced with a thumb toward the edge of the base.

“Are you talking about the alien? Why is that thing not dead yet?” South asked.

Theta appeared and shook his head. “South, that’s rude.”

“Yeah, we don’t shoot dogs!” Kai snapped.

“Dude! I told you, that’s my kid!” Tucker snapped at her.

“Wow, your kid looks just like a dog,” Kai replied.

“Smooth,” Grif snarked. 

“Where’s the ATV?” South asked, while nearing the edge of the base to leap off. 

“Are you talking about the Warthog?” Grif asked. “Which, of course, would be stupid if it was named absolutely anything else.”

“I’m not in on your inside jokes and I don’t care for your attitudes,” South snapped, looking over her shoulder. “I need weapons and I need men to shoot those weapons. Or. Better yet, to just shoot them myself. So are you going to offer me any of that besides the first two?”

“Lady,” Grif said plainly, “inside jokes and attitude is literally the only thing that this canyon can’t take out of my cold, dead hands.”

“Fair enough,” South said before dropping down to the ground below the base. 

Theta hummed with curiosity, fireworks going off behind his avatar. 

“What is it?” South asked without giving him a full glance.

“You ever notice that these people don’t seem too curious about the fact that you have an AI?” he asked. “It’s kinda weird. But I do guess they have a talking tank.”

“Theta, I literally could not care less about the inconsistencies with this box canyon,” South said with a shake of her head. “There’s a much bigger story to keep our eyes on. Like. Surviving. And. Conspiracies with large military industrial complexes.”

“Yeah, but the canyon part does leave more room for creativity,” Theta attempted to argue.

“And the embodiment of creativity killed North, so I think we should stop extrapolating and get back to work,” South said, standing in front of a giant Scorpion canyon that slowly turned its main canon toward her and Theta. “Fuck. Didn’t think this through.”

"South?” Niner’s familiar voice called from the tank. 

While South concentrated on the tank, she watched in her peripheral vision as the driver door lifted up and Niner arched over the edge enough to get a good look at South. 

“Yeah, hi,” South said, glancing toward Niner before warily reconcentrating on the tank. “Are you going to shoot me? Because a lot of people from the past lately seem pretty intent on that so I’d like some formal heads up.”

“I don’t feel like shooting you today, I’m just glad you’re alive,” Niner replied. “I was told otherwise.”

“Funny how that keeps being the case for everybody,” South said stiffly. “Unfortunately, North is dead. For real. You can ask my AI if you don’t trust me. Them supposedly not being able to lie and whatnot.”

“I’m increasingly doubting that’s the case the more I have to deal with the tiny assholes,” Niner announced. She nodded toward Theta. “Present company excluded.”

“Um, thanks?” Theta shrugged back. 

“North being dead means I’ve got scores to settle, too,” South continued to explain. “Tons of them. And I’d like to take your tank to help in that endeavor since the one who killed North happens to be the Meta.”

That seemed to take Niner by complete shock. “You know about the Meta?”

“I know to my former employer, his capture was more important than my life,” South replied. “So, what do you say? Drive a tank to victory for me?”

“Excuse me,” the tank piped up. “I do believe that this is something you should be asking me for.”

“You’re right,” Theta answered, projecting closer to the tank. “Please?”

“Oh what a delightful fellow construct! I would absolutely love to be of assistance! Especially if it involves shooting Freelancers,” the tank said happily.

“Great,” South said, sidestepping away from the tank’s canon only to have it follow. “You two head over to the teleporter and I’ll go get my transportation.”

“Teleporter?” Niner asked before turning to glance up at Blue Base. “You mean that fucking thing? How the hell are we supposed to get Sheila in there? It’s too small of a hole--”

“WAAAAAIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT!!!” a primal scream came from the base, causing all three to turn and face the ramp as Tucker came barreling down it. He ran the entire way, a small dark skinned, alien creature in hot pursuit. They both stopped just short of the three women and Tucker grabbed his knees, breathing hard. “Okay. Ready.” He stood back up and fired shotgun fingers at the three of them. “Baby, no hole’s too small, we can make it work.”

South glared at him. “I’m going to shoot you now.”

“Wait,” Niner said, holding up her hand. “Alien-baby-dude? Are you saying your dick’s small enough for any hole?”

Almost immediately, Tucker went rigid. “What!? No! I--”

“Bow chicka honk honk!” the alien creature cooed. 

"Aw, that’s adorable,” South joined in snarkily. “I think I might’ve given men a chance if more of them took pride in their small dicks.”

Niner snorted and banged on the side of the tank as Sheila’s canon nodded up and down with an “Oh my.”

“Hey, is that anyway to talk in front of a newborn?” Tucker demanded, throwing a thumb in the alien’s direction. It honked in response. 

“Okay, this has gotten supremely stupid,” South determined before pushing forward. “Niner, you and the tank get ready. We’re going to expand that portal hole and I’m going to grab the--” South stopped as well as the others did when there was something loud playing in the distance, echoing off the canyon walls. “Is... Is that polka music?” 

There was an exuberant scream as the ATV South had taken notice of before came flying over a hill and bounced into a landing, turning widely to circle back around and face them all. Three people were already in it.

“Fucking yes! Do it again! I love the vibration from the motor when we jump,” Kai shouted from the passenger seat, hitting on the dashboard. “I think it’s because they say I have an extra large clit.”

“Kai, shut up,” Grif said from the driver’s seat before pausing and turning to more directly face his sister. “Wait what.”

“As a physician who just performed her physical, I can attest to that statement,” the purple armored man in the back said before giving an evil laugh that almost sounded to South like it had to make his throat hurt. “Of course the best part of this was knowing that every excruciating detail of her physical would be used as supposed preexisting conditions and penalize her for any medical insurance. Bwahaha.”

“Pfft, lived this long without any,” Kai said flippantly, waving her hand. “Bring it on, Mister Hyde.”

“What are you doing?” South demanded, “I need that vehicle to take with us to get revenge for my brother. None of you have any stake in that.”

“Lady, you ain’t kidding,” Grif replied with a snort. “But my asshole teammates are out there and... Well, if something could kill a Freelancer, obviously they’re pretty fucked without my skills as the handy getaway driver.”

“Dude, whatever, you seen Wash?” Tucker asked. “He gets a new bullet hole in him on the hour. As far as I can tell, we avoid death way better than any of these elitist fuckers. I mean. Who’ve we lost so far that hasn’t come back to life? Even Sarge survived a shot to the head.”

“Hey! He survived that because of my mouth to mouth!” Grif proclaimed. “Even Doc said so!”

It took a moment for the commotion that was everyone talking over one another to fully sink in for South, and even once it had, she wasn’t sure she fully believed what her own ears were hearing. Her eyes sharply shifted between the group gathered around the enormous tank and the group gathered around the so-called Warthog.

“You -- all of you -- want to come with me and do this? What the hell for?” she demanded. 

“Uh, not for you? I just explained the thing about being the getaway driver,” Grif replied. 

“I have to work off this baby weight,” Tucker shrugged. 

“I’ve got to go where my bodyguard’s heading, where else is she supposed to protect me? Fuck, you suck at this job,” Kai joked. 

“There’s a possibility that there will be severe injuries that might need treated,” Doc spoke up. “I mean, I’ve not saved anyone yet, but who’s to say I can’t in the future!” He then let out another low laugh. “Or simply watch my enemies’ inevitable demise!”

“Yeah, swelling with confidence with that one around,” Niner snarked. “I’m going because I owe it... I owe it to Carolina, York, Wash... and you, South. I owe it to you to not let you go in there without a giant ass tank behind you.”

“I might finally learn what happened to Lopez if I follow,” Sheila announced. “I do worry about him. It seems like so much has happened outside of the canyon. And he has never returned my calls.”

South scowled. It was the same as always, everyone was working toward their own ends. 

Theta appeared over her shoulder and looked at her quietly. “People can work for multiple reasons, South. We’ve just gotta trust we all want the same thing.”

Glaring back at him, South shook her head. “And where I am I supposed to get confidence about that being the case for everyone else? I don’t trust anyone.”

“Gotta learn to try to,” Theta offered. “Just like I learned to trust you.”

Swallowing, South looked away. Theta didn’t have to say the rest of that too true assessment. Just like she had learned to trust him, too.

“We’ve got to make that hole bigger,” South announced. “And gather as much shit as possible.”

“Bow chicka honk honk,” the alien cooed again.

“Fucking really, Tucker?” Grif asked critically.

“Dude, I didn’t teach him that, it’s genetic,” Tucker replied.

“I already hate everything about this,” South lied under her breath.

...

In truth, South was not sure how they managed it. But the fact that Niner was somehow able to pout about the fact that they wouldn’t try to fit her pelican in, too, was almost enough to make the disbelief wear off. 

South stood on the back of the Warthog and gave everyone warning looks. “I don’t care what everyone’s goal is once we get to the other side--”

“If we get on the other side,” Tucker called from his seat on the tank with the tiny alien in his lap. “Just saying, every time I’ve been through the thing it’s been fucked.”

“The thing I care about,” South continued, unfazed, “is that the creep in the white armor is mine.”

“I thought there were two creeps in white armor,” Doc called out from beside her.

“Then they’re both mine. Just in case,” South snapped. “We ready?”

“No,” Grif said at the same time Kai exuberantly smacked the dashboard screaming, “Yes!” 

South’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. This was going to be a disaster.

Just a little trust, Theta reminded her, as if they were in a goddamn Disney movie. 

“That’s it we’re going through,” South warned, getting in position. “Grif, make this as fast as you fucking can, hopefully the teleporter will collapse after we all get through to the right location.”

“Yeah,” Grif said, revving his engine before hesitating. “Wait what? What the fuck?”

“GO!” Kaikaina screamed, reaching her leg over the gear stick in order to slam her boot down on her brother’s, sending them flying forward. 

There was a multitude of curses but the main objective was being achieved. South couldn’t help but continue to project the feeling that Kaikaina was, by far, her favorite of the weirdos she had discovered along with the other remaining Freelancers. 

It’s funny how everyone seems to like these guys, Theta said in her mind. They’re the complete opposite of Freelancer.

That’s enough for me to like just about anyone, South answered firmly just before they launched through the staticky green light ahead of them and began to once more break apart, molecule by molecule, and form on the other side. 

There was a moment longer than the usual transporter jump where South briefly felt her heart stop and her mind wonder into the sort of territory that was remotely this was the dumbest way I could have died after all of that. But the blinding green light exploded into a world of white and distant colored hues and her ears popped with the explosion of it all. 

And surely enough, her entire body bounced with the Warthog as they hit the snowbank directly in front of them and, immediately, stopped their momentum completely. 

South glared forward before looking down to the Grif siblings. “Did you just get us stuck in the snow? Three seconds after we got here? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Hey, I have a very firm rule about backseat driving!” Grif snapped back, throwing the Warthog into reverse and revving the engine in an attempt to pull them out.

“Whoo! Element of surprise!” Kai screamed.

Theta manifested over South’s shoulder and cleared his throat. “Um, South?” he called quietly, pointing in the distance as a hulking white figure approached them. 

There was only one glance South needed to know who was coming their way. “Motherfucker,” she snarled, pushing Doc out of the way and taking command of the gatling gun. 

“Hey, I think that’s the white guy over there,” Kai stage whispered as Grif continued to try to back them out of the snowbank. “Grif! Grif! Tell me if I got the color right! It’s just like when we were kids! Only this time I won’t be asking you what color dicks are!”

“What!?” Grif cried out just before managing to get them out of the snow and slinging all of them around. 

Barely managing to hold on, South shot the gatling gun toward the sky instead of at her target, causing a string of curses to escape her that Theta fled back into the recesses of her implants in fear. 

Doc wasn’t so lucky and ended up face first in the very snowbank they had managed to only narrowly escape. 

“Hey!” Grif shouted back at South. “Is that the guy trying to kill everyone? The one with the stupid helmet?” 

“Yes!” South yelled back.

“Sweet!” Kai called out before slamming her foot down on her brother’s again to send them flying toward the Meta, Grif yowling in pain in the process. 

Before South could even think twice, the Warthog lunged forward aimed directly at the Meta. The move itself seemed to take everyone by surprise as a few colorful sim troopers all but leapt out of the way as the vehicle hit its mark and went cruising toward the wrecked Mother of Invention. 

The Meta slammed against the hood of the Warthog, roaring and snarling as it scratched at the metal and reached for the front window. Which caused the two Grifs to scream harmoniously.

Seeing the golden opportunity approaching, South pulled her brother’s rifle out from over her shoulder. “Duck!” she screamed at the Grifs. 

“Okay!” Kai cried as she did so.

“Why!?” Grif yelled just before South took her shot through the window. “Jesus christ!” 

Theta appeared right over South’s shoulder as the chest plate of the Meta burst open with the intensity of the armor piercing bullet. He glanced toward her, a readout of the energy signatures from the Meta flying across South’s visor. 

“That cut a major power supply, but his bioscans are still off the chart, I think he has a suped up healing unit that’s repairing his chest cavity,” Theta explained. 

“How is that possible?” South demanded, reloading. 

“I don’t know, if they have enough AI they can probably assign one to each task,” Theta announced. “Impact three... two...”

For reasons she could not explain in the moment, South grabbed Kai’s back plating, kicked the girl’s brother out into the snow, and then leaped with Kai in tow off of the Warthog just before it slammed, Meta in tow, into the side of the Mother of Invention. 

South hit the snow shoulder first and rolled with Kai, protectively shielding her as the Meta roared and attempted to--

The Warthog was almost hitting the siding of the ship but the Meta was beneath it, dropping to the snow under the Warthog and saving itself from damage as the vehicle crashed above him.

“What the fuck!?” York’s all too familiar voice called out from the other side of the snowy clearing. “Did anyone else just see that!? Seriously, did anyone--”

“It has the time distorter!” Carolina yelled. “It was Wyoming’s unit.” 

Angrily, South looked over to them all, watching as the other Reds gathered around Grif and helped him up. Tex was standing not too far from them with a Blue and some other Blue slung over her shoulder. 

“Does no one besides my brother know how to stay fucking dead!?” South screamed out.

As South got to her feet, helping Kai up in the process, Washington led the others to a tighter formation toward them, they were all still surrounding the Meta who was rolling out from underneath the wrecked Warthog. 

“We need to stop him,” Wash growled out. “Suggestions?”

“I was the one tasked with stopping him, but Niner ran as my second pair of eyes,” Carolina informed them all. “I never managed to fully complete the mission for a number of reasons. One of them being that he’s just too damn creative with how he’s using all of the stolen enhancements.”

“Someone say my name?” Niner’s voice crackled over the radio, turning all heads toward the transporter where, at long last, the tank and its occupants got through. “You would not believe the bumpy ride we just had!”

“Niner!” Carolina yelled out in relief.

“Can you fucking blow the Meta to the sky?” South demanded. 

“Wow, that’s the quickest I have ever seen someone resort to a Plan B in the history of ever,” Niner scoffed while Sheila took aim with her cannon. 

“Wait! It has a dome shield!” Washington yelled out, close proximity causing everyone close to him to flinch back. “Any explosion will bounce off and hit the rest of us!”

“Why the fuck are you screaming, you idiot? Turn your radio on,” South snapped.

“Dude, don’t call Wash an idiot!” Tucker called, leaping down from the tank, the alien creature sitting on his shoulders. “Everyone who doesn’t have their radios off right now is a fucking idiot. If this thing is super powerful because it has a bunch of AI, and Omega’s big deal was that he hopped around using our radio signals, then anyone not turning off their radio is like a huge fucking liability right now!”

Everyone stared at Tucker.

“What the fuck is that?” Washington said, breaking the momentary silence. 

“What the fuck is what?” Tucker asked while the alien chewed on his helmet. “Oh, you mean Junior? Yeah, I guess you all missed it! This is Junior, I just gave birth to him.”

“No,” Grif growled. “Unfortunately we didn’t miss it.”

“It was like a pro-abortion commercial,” Kai explained to the others. “I’ve never been more confident in my life choices like ever.”

South blinked. “Wait, what?”

"Wait! Everyone shut up!” a screechy voice South had never heard before demanded.

When she looked toward it, however, South found herself starring down an all too familiar armor. Tex was approaching from the flank and somehow that voice was coming from her as she continued to hold the Blue over her shoulder. 

“Church--” Tex began only for a bright white light to shine over her shoulder. “Goddammit. We’re not even going to discuss this. You little fucker--”

“Hey!” the white light called before forming a sprite not at all dissimilar from the kinds that many of the Freelancer AIs wore. “You fucks are in trouble. Look who’s got their radio on.”

Theta all but gasped through South’s own mouth, making her step back in shock. “The Alpha!” he cried out.

No sooner had he said it than Maine’s body stood rigid, a multitude of AI swarming around his domelike head. Chants of Alpha Alpha Alpha echoed eerily from it. 

“Goddammit, Church!” Tex snarled just before she dropped the Blue’s body and held up her fists. “Alright, assholes. You want some? You’ve gotta come get some.”

All at once, the circling AI came together in a flurry of light and obnoxious humming that sent everyone with their radios on reflexively flinching back, including South. She grabbed at the edges of her helmet and dropped to her knee, feeling like Theta was going to vibrate right through her skull. 

“Theta!” she growled.

Then, as soon as it started, the AI disappeared and Maine dropped to his knees as well, letting out a guttural noise just before having to support himself with one fist through the snow. 

Washington was the first to turn toward Tex, looking mortified. “Tex!?” 

“Oh, fuck!” Tucker cried out. “Tex!? Church!?”

“Tucker,” Tex gritted out. “Remember how you put this body together?” she demanded. “Remember where all the important power pieces are?” 

Tucker looked at her confusedly before suddenly igniting a bright plasma sword right before everyone’s eyes. “Yeah...?”

South looked over the simulation troopers and then went back to staring at the sword in Tucker’s hands. “Who the fuck are you people!?” she found herself thinking out loud. 

"You’re going to need to use that to dismantle me as quick as possible,” Tex informed him.

“What the fuck,” Tucker said for everyone.

“This just got heavy,” York muttered loudly.

“We could have simply let the Blues tear each other apart this whole time!? How could we have not used this foolproof plan before now?” Sarge howled. “Surely it is somehow Grif’s fault.”

“What are you talking about? They’ve literally been killing each other since the start,” Grif pointed out. “Except for that time Donut killed Tex.”

“Thanks for the shoutout!” Donut called from the safety of the tank.

“But... But what about Church?” the large Blue asked, picking up the limp body that Tex had dropped. “I don’t want you to be in pieces either, Tex. I’d like us all to just go home now. Together. Minus Tucker.”

“Goddammit, you guys, don’t you trust me!?” Tex roared. “Take me apart and take me apart right the fuck now before these bastards get control over us!”

Everyone was still stunned into silence when South lifted North’s sniper rifle, aimed for Tex’s head and fired a shot right in the middle of everyone, eliciting more than a few screams. 

“I told you,” she said coldly to everyone around her, “I called dibs on the one who killed my brother.”

“Holy shit, you’re a badass,” Kai laughed.

“Church! Tex!” Tucker and Wash cried out, nearing the body laying in the snow, sparking from the top of its shoulders. 

“Tucker, you fucking idiot, we told you to start tearing us apart!” 

Everyone let out a confused ‘huh’ and looked over toward the tall Blue holding the limp Blue’s body. Except it wasn’t limp anymore and instead was shoving against the hulking Blue’s chest. 

“Goddammit, Caboose, let go of me!” the Blue demanded. Then, in Tex’s voice, “Luckily, I’m aware enough of our surroundings to figure some asshole here would do the hard part and jumped us just before things went whammy. Now, Tucker, tear that body into pieces so that the AI stuck in it don’t get any grand ideas about using any of the hundreds of weapons I’ve got stored away in there.”

Washington looked at Tex with a tilt of his helmet. “That seems like a bit of an exaggeration.”

"No one asked you, Wash,” both voices snapped simultaneously.

“Alright, alright, I get it, my three hours of tinkering means I have to now take you apart. Jesus. I’d never have agreed to that if I knew it was going to come back and bite me in the ass,” Tucker groaned, setting the alien on his shoulders back on the ground then nearing the black armored body. “C’mon, Junior, I’ll show you what it’s like to play with Legos. Except human body parts sized.”

South stared at the scene with a strange, discomforting quiet. Her mouth pressed tightly to a thin line as she stared at them all. 

“Hey,” Kai called, approaching her side. “You shot her head off! Good on you. You feel better?”

Theta stayed quiet, and despite wanting to join him, something compelled South to answer. 

“Not at all,” she answered. “There... There are a lot of people I’d like to see pay before I’m going to feel good about anything relating to Freelancer.”

There was an ominous silence shared by the fellow survivors around her. 

“Cool,” Kai said. “What’s Freelancer?”

Before there could truly be an answer to the most ridiculous but reasonable questions South had ever been asked in her life, there was a horrible roaring from Maine. It was a primal, hateful sound that was full of malice as he charged. But just before anyone could react, the tank came rolling down the hill, comically snatching Maine out of his position before ultimately coming to a stop with him grasping and clawing to no avail under the tank’s treads. 

“He is much tougher than he looks!” the tank’s AI complimented. 

Niner popped out from the cockpit and shrugged. “Seemed like a shame to bring a tank and not use it.”

“I have the same saying about big guns,” Donut said cheerily from his perch. 

“Okay, but what are we supposed to with that thing now?” Simmons asked, pointing toward Maine. “I mean... we probably shouldn’t have someone dissect it with a sword.”

“Absolutely not!” Carolina snapped. “Besides, Tex and I saw from the ship, there are UNSC investigators on their way here. We just need to hold Maine and get our story straight.”

“It won’t matter what the story is,” South snorted, shaking her head at the naivety. “Don’t know what wonderful dreamworld you all live in, but I happen to know for a fact that the UNSC is going to come here looking for someone to blame. And Freelancers seem pretty high on the top of that list of good scapegoats, don’t they? Steal our armors, take our enhancements, put us on trial, lock us up, shut us up. Or maybe offer some of you a deal to work for them indefinitely on suicide missions. Been there. Done that. It fucking sucks, just for reference.”

York crossed his arms. “Anyone ever tell you that professing to a history of backstabbing and double crossing isn’t the greatest reflection of someone’s character?” 

“Anyone ever tell you that I haven’t wanted anything more than to spend the rest of my life punching you in the dick?” South demanded. 

“Everyone stop,” Carolina spoke up, holding up her hands. 

“Sure thing, Boss,” Wash said all too easily.

“No. No sure thing, Boss,” South growled out. “You’re not a leader anymore, Carolina, because we’re not a team. We never were.”

“God, these guys have so many fucking issues,” Grif bemoaned. 

“I may not be a leader,” Carolina agreed, “but I have information that might save all of us once the UNSC is here wanting to arrest us all. And it’s only going to work if some of us can get our shit together and actually work together to make sure he doesn’t get away.”

“He?” South and Wash echoed at the same time. 

“The Director is inside the Mother of Invention,” Carolina explained. “And we’re going to make sure he stays that way.”

The three of them looked at each other, then to the crowd of miscreants that had all gathered together for the colossal mess that had been the last fifteen minutes.

But only Kai was looking South’s way. 

“That one of the people you need to cross off to feel better?” she asked genuinely.

South thought about it and exhaled firmly through her nose. “Yeah,” she said lowly. “Yeah, it is.” She looked warily toward Carolina and Washington. “Why the three of us?”

“Because, we’re all Recovery Agents,” Carolina announced, somewhat surprising South and utterly flooring Washington by the looks of it. “And he’s the last piece of this puzzle we need to recover.”

“Go on,” York said, walking toward them. “I’ll help everyone hold down the fort and slow the UNSC when they get here. I’m good at talking things over,” he reminded them. 

“According to who?” South asked skeptically. “Nevermind, I don’t even have the attention span for mocking you right now. I want to kick the Director’s ass. Maybe shoot him.”

“We need him alive,” Carolina argued firmly.

“There are nonlethal ways to shoot people,” Wash said darkly.

“See, Wash gets it,” South said, leading the walk toward the Mother of Invention. “And I’m more than ready for this all to be over.”

[petescycleco]

Why The Cult Of The Honda Grom Makes So Much Sense

Motorcycles are kind of an odd religion in and of themselves. But as with any group, you periodically get confusing subsects, like the Marcionites (early Christians who urged celibacy even among married couples; I wonder why that didn’t catch on) or Honda Grom riders.

Read more 

  The ways of these groups can be baffling to outsiders, but they usually see themselves as the chosen few who have cast aside all outside judgement in order to embrace the real truth.

I decided to sample the old time religion these Honda Grom owners practice on their tiny little micro-bikes, and while I can’t say I’m saved, I do think they’re onto something.

For those of you who don’t know, a Honda Grom looks like what would happen if you reduced my Suzuki SV650 to half scale. It is tiny, tiny motorcycle with a 125cc single cylinder engine and a four-speed transmission. If a Ducati Panigale is a thoroughbred racehorse, and a Harley Streetglide is a hardworking Clydesdale, the Grom is a cantankerous little pony. Think of it as sitting somewhere between those little pocket bikes and a full-scale bike.

  Riding a Grom is so removed from everything that the biker mentality values that it’s almost difficult to process. When you think of a biker, you think of a few metric tons of Milwaukee steel doing its best impression of an A-10 Warthog on a strafing run. Just a slab of metal and noise and violence. Compared to that, a Grom is a Cessna, delivering the mail. But goddamn, do I love it.

Also, I know nothing about planes, so I’m really hoping those analogies work.

Even though any photo of a rider on a Grom looks like a lazy Photoshop job, the actual experience is surprisingly comfortable. In fact, the seat height of thirty inches is really not that much lower than that of many full-size bikes.

That tiny engine is good for about nine horsepower. Nine. Single digit. That may not dazzle your forum friends, but when it’s propelling a machine that weighs less than 250 pounds, it feels like plenty. Ok, maybe not “plenty.” Adequate. At least for a claimed top speed of around 62 mph. But that is dependent on weight, wind resistance, barometric pressure, and your current fiber intake.

In an effort to understand the Grom Dividians, and in an attempt to utilize my woefully ignored minor in Sociology, I set about infiltrating their faction. This was not easy. It was important to blend in, and not draw attention to myself. This was done by telling obscene jokes and reciting Bloodhound Gang lyrics at full volume.

Once I had managed to inject myself into this circle and gained their trust, I asked one owner, Brother Phillip, why he had become a follower of Grom’s Gate. He responded, “I say to thee, as it was said unto me: ‘It’s what the cool kids were buying.’”

Could this be it? Was the entire movement about just trying to fit in? Were the misguided miscreants just looking for acceptance in this digital world, full of contradicting disconnection and connection? 

Surely there has to be a family that could adopt these wayward youths, that didn’t involve looking like a bear trying to fuck a Big Wheel. For Brother Phillip was secretly an automotive journalist, and therefore surely ignorant of anything worthwhile.

In search of deeper truth, I continued my quest. Through various coincidences and poor judgment calls, I wound up meeting a semi-professional racer and puppy enthusiast named Wil. Wil has built some of the most laughably overpowered cars I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching, and has also raced motorcycles up Pikes Peak.

So this is a man who understands speed, yet still prostrated himself at the temple of Grom. When I asked him why, he simply responded that his feet reached the ground on one. Oh.

Well, that’s certainly a practical reason, but isn’t exactly the most poetic thing in the world. Motorcycle racers. The leather suits do something weird to their brains.

Then there’s Chad, who has been aggressively pushing the Grom life on me like a handsy prom date. “Just try it. You’ll love it, I swear. It’ll be so much fun.” That eventually wound up with the two of us snuggled up on a Grom together somewhere in southern Louisiana.

This is a man that owns a wide variety of motorcycles, and regularly takes dirt bike trips through the wilds of Colorado. He had joined the Church of the Rising Grom because it offered all the practicality of a scooter, but “didn’t suck.”

He uses Groms as pit bikes and support vehicles for the race team he manages, because they make the perfect runaround while still offering a clutch lever. I’m assuming that is a bonus solely for the wheelie potential.

 Even puppies, like Blake, love Groms. Photo courtesy of Joshua Derrick.

Speaking of which, the kind of things that you can get away with on a tiny bike would get you thrown in handcuffs on anything else.

I spent two days straight weaving through cordoned off areas, riding down sidewalks, and cutting across the grass. And not a single person was upset. I saw a man do a wheelie for a hundred yards on a Grom, and people just laughed. 

Riding a Grom is the two-wheeled equivalent of driving a clown car. It’s slow, a little ridiculous, and a sheer joy to pedestrians.

But it was finally a local boy, Perry, who summed up best what this tiny bike was all about. He told me he’d bought one because, “it was small, fun, and different. I didn’t need a big bike to prove anything.” 

A Grom is for your own amusement, not to win bragging rights on a forum or to impress kids at bike night. Leaving behind all the posturing and peacocking makes for a delightfully liberating experience.

There’s no inherent malice or preconceived notions when it comes to Groms. If your grandma sees a leather-clad Harley rider, she might think he’s some sort of scofflaw, out to rape and pillage. If she sees a would-be Power Ranger on a sportbike, she might think he’s off to do wheelies in traffic and get in police chases. But a man on a Grom? She’ll just laugh at him, and tell him to be careful.

There’s something to be said for riding something with absolutely no pretensions of grandeur. Everyone else is faster or has a better pedigree. But it simply doesn’t matter. The only objective of the Grom is to be fun. Not fast, not loud, not well handling, just fun.

Oh sure, you can bolt on everything from Ohlins suspension, to Akropovic exhausts, to full turbo kits, but that almost makes it funnier. It’s like throwing racing slicks and a big wing on a Smart Fortwo. Utterly pointless, but in the best way possible.

While we all want to belong to something, we also want to be perceived as unique. That’s why we form cliques and insulate ourselves from the unwashed masses with bulwarks of dogma and jargon. Because our group is better than you and smarter than you. It’s why athletes look down on nerds for having no physical or social graces, and why nerds look down on athletes for not understanding what a THACO score is (Dungeons and Dragons second edition, motherfuckers.)

So the Grom owners are the weird little offshoot of motorcyclists. Their ways are mysterious and inexplicable until you join in. The password is Ketchup. Tell them Fails sent you.

from Blogger https://ift.tt/2Xks7Rc via Motorcycle Dealer Maryland

[stareiiez]

Flower Petals and Blood

Church/ Epsilon x Female Reader

Hanaki Disease AU

This wasn’t requested but you know I always wanted to do some angst with this AU. I like dark AUs for some reason sooo yeah. Honestly, I was going to try and make this gender neutral but I haven't been practicing that much with how I would place my words, so next fic I will make that one neutral as possible. Promise.

Warnings: Mature content. Sexual hints, or intentions, angst, slow burn. Follows the whole tragic Chex story. 

Somewhere in a canyon far far away in an unknown galaxy. Sometime amongst a screwed up timeline that was in the future or beyond where the sun never laid to rest and seemed to only grow hotter each day, had beaten down upon the helmet of varying shades of cool blue.BloodGulch was where your home was,  although no blood was ever spilled. No ocean of red ever flowed down the river in the underground canyons but the only red there was the red team. One that held a bloodthirsty habit that was forced, but never taken up on. by their leader. Blue as the deep shades of the dark ocean, or as light as a frozen over pond, maybe even as vibrant as chocolate chip mint ice cream,  had stood around in a small semi-circle in front of a large scorpion like tank. They had all but spent three hours trying to figure out how to turn the damn tank on, but with a swift kick to the tank its headlights had switched on and a shrill girl like scream had erupted in the air once a female robot’s voice had greeted the soldiers. You all but suppressed a snort of amusement from the doorway of the blue base. Your borderline violet blue armor nearly grew black under the lukewarm shade of the base, one arm had crossed lazily over your black undersuit chest while your weight leaned cozily against the frame. Ankles locked lazily in a resting pose.

“Idiots.” You shook your head before you raised your hand, and two fingers slipped into your mouth which helped you emit a sharp whistle. All three heads swung in the direction you were at. 

Tank keys hung lazily from the hand that was crossed over your chest, the metal glinted coldly in the dimmed down light of the outside. A small smirk flickered upon your chapped lips until your tongue darted over the bottom lip quickly to wet them. Yeah, the army never supplied you with chapstick bummer. 

“You know that command actually gives you keys if you look hard enough right?”You unhooked your right ankle from your left and made your way out of the base towards the boys in blue. 

Golden visors hid the varying emotions that ranged from confusion to downright embarrassment. (E/C) eyes had swung from your three teammates until you tossed the set of keys to Tucker. He quickly caught the pair before his head tilted like a lost puppy. The dialogue of the tank who now introduced herself as S.H.E.I.L.A was blocked out by deaf ears, except for Caboose who had started to grow rather fond of the blues’ new toy already.

“How did you--?” Church spoke up as he effectively snatched the keys from his teammate’s open palm and gripped them with a white-knuckled hand.

“I found them under all that magazines and dirty clothes underneath your bed.” You cut him off before a brow rose while your eyes darted over to the male. “You really need to stop following Tucker’s disgusting habits.” 

Underneath that ice blue helmet, you could swear the cheeks of Church were burning the shade of Simmon’s armor, or even brighter, while Tucker had burst out in laughter. His hands clutched over his stomach while air wheezed from his lungs. 

“That’s where all my porn went? Jesus Christ dude someone’s horny.”He cracked out between large gulps of air. You swore that the male was to topple over on his back from laughing this much over something stupid.

“Tucker! Shut up! (Y/N) Just shut the hell up! and Caboose!” The male yelled his voice obtaining a higher pitch. Said blue bounded happily over to you three as eager as a little puppy would to its mother.

“You’re fine.” Church sighed under his breath before he cast the childlike man a look. For once he was the only one that wasn’t on his nerves. Was it an alternate universe day or what? He never screamed at Caboose just by seeing him.

You blinked rapidly before rubbing them with the heels of your hands. Maybe he was just having an off day was all. The sun must be causing you to have a sunstroke this early in the damn morning.Nevermind that, you had a flustered ‘leader’ on your hands.  A smirk played on your lips until you leaned into Church, your hands linked behind your back until the golden visor nearly bumped the tip of your nose.

“Why don’t you make me, sir?” You wore a shit-eating grin even if the back of your eyes held an innocent sort of look. Yes, even you had the hots for the boy in blue. Who wouldn't?

After all, you never addressed Church ‘sir’ unless you were teasing him or the two of you were more than just close to closed off quarters. Closer than under his stark white sheets and two bodies joining as one with both voices ringing out in the dead of night when Caboose and Tucker were knocked out cold with earplugs buried snugly in their ears. Closer to the brief lazy morning kisses, and soft smiles until you would have to sneak back into his room. Your breath fogged up the glass just as you felt the blue lean in absently you leaned away and the grin widened an inch or two even more. 

“Fuck you, (Y/N).”

“Fuck me, Leonard.”

Times like that mindless flirting back and forth, with the screwing in between were something you wished could last forever. Oh how love was so obvious, you could see it from the rare times when his helmet was discarded and his blue eyes would light up when they landed on your face. How your smile would grow lighter and your eyes crinkled when you laughed at his ranting from how stupid and idiotic everyone, except you, was in the damn canyon. Even when your heart soared from the thought of you two finally being discharged from the military and making a normal life together in the future. Maybe having a few kids and sitting in those rocking chairs like an old cliche couple does. Yeah, that’s the future you wanted with Church if only you could stop being such a big coward and voice your happily ever after to him. You only thought that this thing was some fling so he could work off some sweat and keep his mind off of his past relationship. 

How long as it been since he stopped bringing her up? Maybe a month now if you could keep up the avoiding subject of his past, you knew just about every story about his ex-girlfriend. Of how much of a bitch she was and how stone cold she was to him. She was so perfect and you were just you, not one badass bone in your body at the moment, Well you considered yourself badass since you could fight the whole blue team with one arm tied behind your back. Oh yeah, you were that good at reflexes and hand to hand combat. Your knowledge of weapons and your aim wasn’t half bad either, there was room for improvement but you had the best damn aim on the team. You were like a side chick to some other girl who was possibly dead and he was just keeping his whole attention to her constant memory. 

What ticked you off more wasn't the stories or the comparison of the two of you whenever you didn't something far different than his ex. Oh no, what pushed you was when you two were alone in his room. Clothes scattered on the floor and his pants were only filling the silence. You had called out his name in ecstasy while you hit your high that crashed down to a screeching halt was when her name left his lips. Not your name, he yelled out her name as he hit his release. The cold shoulder and passive-aggressive small talks were all that he received for two weeks, by the end you had confessed what really pissed you off. He swore that the memory of Texas, his ex, would be long forgotten and he would stick to the present. It was a pretty selfish act, but everyone had their breaking point and you had yours three months into this affair. 

The month after that was smooth sailing, no mention of the ‘bitch in black’ or Texas was ever uttered from his lips while you were around. Although you two rarely spent time alone in his room for the fear of her name being moaned once again. The sexual tension had grown between you from that cause, and it all but took you two to brush up against each other innocently for his hands to be all over you and on places you know that the armor could never cover that well from his frantic fingers. Armor plating could never hold up well against his desperation and breathy words of naughty things that were whispered in your ear. 

You fell in love but god you knew being in love was something you could never be at war. Not when you now hold a rifle in your hands and not your lover’s hand instead. Not were blood flowed freely in rivers that pooled into an ocean and especially at times were bickering over the stupidest of shit like team flags. Time seemed to drag by in this canyon it never felt like days or weeks. You were holed up in the blue team repairing damaged vehicle parts after Caboose got his sticky fingers on them. You just about finished the last part of the warthog that had been dented and broken when a scream and explosion ricocheted from the middle of the canyon. Voices soon followed and it all but sent you into flight mode, your feet sprinting at what seemed at light speed to where the two remaining members of the blue team stood. 

One in the tank and the other standing on a cliff with the body of Church laying on the ground. Blood seeping out of his crumpled body, arms, and legs were splayed out straight and his last breath came out as a ‘blerg’ as he died in front of his team. Most people would freak out and throw one good crying fit or scream your lungs out. You simply stood stoic arms crossed over one another. You knew this day was to come, ever since Captain Butch Flowers ‘overdosed’ on aspirin that fateful day. You were around for that day, as the trusted one you were and as close as you could be to him and the Project you were left with the secret of how Church really was. With a deep regretful sigh, you could only block out the bickering of Tucker and Caboose, along with the reds in their own base. 

You knew that this only one ‘accident’ could only lead on to more and more complications with the A.I Alpha in his current state. Especially with the naive reds and blues and the remaining survivors of the now disbanded Project Freelancer. Things couldn’t get any shittier than it could be right now. Although this day didn’t compare to the one when the remaining blues wanted to call in a freelancer to snatch their stolen flag from them the day after Church’s ‘funeral’. 

It was going to be a total shit show.