#because these damn Gremlins are getting a bit out of hand

[luckyfox3000]

DC X DP PROMT #14

Hello my friends! New Promt! Ps. Pick a dc character you want me to fit in a promt. (I like asking questions)

Dick Grayson had no idea what was going on.

Nor did he want to know.

It all started when Bruce informed the family that a recently orphaned Danial Fenton would be coming to stay with them.

Did it bother him? No! Dick was looking forward to having another sibling (dont say he's not Bruce, for God's sake, he has black hair and blue eyes), the only problem was with Damian.

Dick and the family had worked hard to show Damian that everyone was equally loved and that he wasn't getting sent back to the league for simple mistakes.

Dicks biggest achievement was getting Tim and Damian to get along, though they made a rather terrifying duo.

But anyway, that wasn't the point.

The thing was when the boy finally arrived, other then a scowling Damian, everything was fine.

The boy, Danial who liked to be called Danny, was shy and sweet in the beginning and quite nervous to be around the family, but once he warmed he was cracking jokes and puns like their was no tomorrow.

Dick thought it was a bit odd that Danny was so cheerful after just losing his family, but, everyone has their own coping mechanisms, and as long as he didnt decide to pick up a furry costume and prance into the night to fight crime, Dick would support.

Oddly enough, Tim, Damian, and Danny were the ones to get along best, and Dick found it absolutely adorable (at the time. Never mind, no matter their plans, their still cute), though he heard Jason mutter something along the lines of "God damn it, they've band together, we're all doomed."

Which Dick thought was a bit of an exaggeration.

So what if they smiled when news came of lexcorp blown up, and their funds and stocks drastically decreasing.

So what if they sat together laughing adorably (or in Damians case a small warm smile), while surrounded by sheets of paper detailing plans to destroy the league of assassins (Did Danny figure out their identities???)(they called somone named Jazz for advice, should he be concerned?)

So what if when Dick decided to surprise them and barged into their game room to find several assassins and Slade wilson on the floor, tied up masterfully, unable to move a muscle and knocked out while the boys played video games.

It didn't matter, they were adorable.

So why was Dick so frightened now?

Good question.

"Er... Damian why are you and Tim holding Ra's Al Ghul at knife point? And why the FUCK DOES DANNY LOOK LIKE A DAMN ELDRITCH MON- CREATURE!!! AND OH MY GOD, DANNY WHAT IN THE NAME OF DEMENTORS IS THAT, ARE YOU SUCKING OUT HIS SOUL?!?!?!"

Dick might have miscalculated.

Feel free to use or add on!

[steddiealltheway]

It starts out simple. Eddie notices that Steve sometimes spaces out, but no one really pays him much attention. Usually, he’ll try to enter back into the conversation, and he’ll earn a few eye rolls when he has no idea what anyone’s talking about.

But what really haunts Eddie is the way Steve will sometimes be zoned out with his jaw and fists clenched, looking as if he’s reliving the worst of the upside down. He’ll gradually come out of it, and sometimes Robin will nudge him and quietly whisper if he’s okay, but he just shakes it off.

It’s like he has to appear fine in front of everyone, but Eddie gets it. He’s not sure what the group would do if Steve fell apart.

But a few times, he looks like he’s on the verge of it.

One time, he’s far away enough from everyone that Eddie is able to inconspicuously make his way to the former jock and nudge him. “Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie asks.

Steve startles and Eddie watches as the tension in him increases then slowly releases until he appears “normal.”

Eddie grabs his wallet and sifts through it before finally finding what he wants. A single dull penny.

He hands it to Steve who takes it and starts fiddling with it. He glances back at everyone else to make sure they’re out of earshot before he answers, “I’m just scared that maybe this Vecna creep will return, you know? It’s happened four times by now. How do we know it’s over?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. He’s gone through the same thought process of wondering if he’ll be back. If life will return to hell again. But he can’t imagine what it’s been like for Steve whose done it multiple times.

But he’s been able to logic his way out of his anxiety before. “Well, we have Will who has the whole Spidey-sense thing going on, so we’ll know if he’s back but… remember what El said. She felt it. Like it was finished this time. For good.”

Steve just nods and Eddie sees the tiniest shred of anxiety slip away. “Plus,” Eddie continues, “Can’t let our hero boy do all the worrying or his strength might deplete. How about I do all the worrying and standing guard tonight, huh?”

Steve glances over at him for a second, and Eddie almost thinks he’s going to laugh him off or something. Instead, he lets out a shaky sigh, puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie watches as Steve pockets the penny and actually heads toward the group with a smile on his face. He smiles and looks around. Time to stand guard.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie almost forgets about it, but it’s probably the whole not-getting-any-sleep-because-he-keeps-having-nightmares thing. It’s been a particularly bad week when he finds himself in the Harrington home with all the gremlins and other adults. He wants to be all bigger than life / life of the party, but his energy is gone.

He sits at the kitchen island on a barstool with his head in his hands, staring at the granite slab of the countertop when a hand and something slides into his view.

The hand pulls back and Eddie gets sight of a penny. What the-?

He looks up to see Steve sitting next to him with a small smile on his face. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asks.

Eddie stares at him and feels his heart flutter but he wills that to die down a bit. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Just…” he glances off to see if anyone else is in earshot before continuing, “I keep getting these damn nightmares. Sometimes about… Chrissy… sometimes about random stressful shit, but they just won’t stop. It’s like although Vecna’s gone, he’s always here.”

Steve’s gaze has turned sympathetic as he runs a hand through his hair and looks around before lowering his voice. “I’ve been through the same thing, but I’ve found that it’s easier getting through the night with other people. Don’t tell anyone, but I snuck into Robin’s room for weeks after the whole Russian torture thing. But hey, if you want to crash here with me tonight, I’d be more than happy to have you.” Steve glances away from Eddie and runs a hand through his hair again as a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “Hell, you’d be helping me out too, man.”

Eddie considers it and immediately feels a wave of relief flood through him at the thought. He pockets the penny and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “That’d be great. Thank you. Really,” Eddie says with a smile and eases himself off the barstool.

He hears Dustin raising his voice in the other room and Eddie says to Steve, “Time to ware out the children.”

Steve just laughs and joins him, but Eddie sees another tiny piece of tension leave his body.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It slowly becomes their thing. Eddie finds himself keeping pennies on himself at all times just in case, but by some strange fate, him and Steve always use that same penny.

Sometimes it pressed into Eddie’s palm, Eddie once throws it at Steve yelling, “catch!”, and sometimes it just appears in one of their vision.

The thoughts range from stupid things like Steve trying to remember if he turned off the oven to Eddie’s Dnd campaign to the overwhelming trauma from the Upside Down seeping into their lives.

Along with the penny becoming a regular thing, Eddie sleeping in Steve’s bed becomes a regular thing too. At first, it’s a bit awkward as they try to find out how much space each of them needs, what side of the bed they prefer, what they’re like in the mornings, and overall just how to be around each other when sharing a bed.

It shifts when one night, Eddie notices Steve staring at the ceiling wide awake. Eddie leans over the side of the bed where his pants are and digs into his pocket to retrieve the penny which he gently lays on Steve’s chest.

Steve glances down and carefully picks it up, twirling it as Eddie watches the coin slightly glint in the moonlight. There’s a deep breath and then Steve is saying, “I was just thinking about what if we… I don’t know. Like… held each other? Or rather, I was thinking that it would be nice to be held.”

Steve sets the penny down on the nightstand which indicates the end of his thoughts but he doesn’t dare turn to face Eddie. But Eddie is already scooting closer to press his body against Steve who instantly curls into Eddie’s embrace holding him as if he’ll escape if he tries to let go. But Eddie would never escape.

And every night they hold each other close with no questions asked and no penny needed.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie’s feelings for Steve grow. He knows they’ve been there since the beginning, but with the whole penny thing, it’s like he has the key to all of Steve’s deepest thoughts and desires. He knows that Steve has access to his as well and is just thankful that Steve’s never given him the penny when Eddie’s been staring at him. He knows he can’t lie to Steve, and it may be dumb, but he especially can’t lie with that penny in sight.

So, he says nothing. He keeps holding Steve through the night, comforting him if he’s awoken from a particularly bad nightmare, but usually just laying there willing himself to stay awake as long as he can so he can bask in the sensation of holding Steve Harrington.

Then, one morning as Steve makes them breakfast, Eddie looks at him for a little too long, wondering how he’s been able to live his life without him when that penny is slid into his sight.

Eddie blinks down at it and swallows as Steve looks at him. “You,” Eddie blurts out, “I was just thinking about you.”

Eddie leaves the penny on the table because he knows that’s not enough of his thoughts. Steve turns back to scrape the eggs out of the pan onto a plate and put some butter on their toast before he turns back to Eddie. He doesn’t pry, but through the breakfast the penny stays in sight.

Eddie’s plate is clear when he finally fully answers, “I was just thinking about how much better my life has been since you’ve come into it, and… thank you.” He feels blood rise to his cheeks and finds Steve with a similar blush.

“I was thinking the same about you,” Steve responds and takes their plates to clean them before Eddie can respond.

He knows he’s falling in love with him.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It’s a few mornings later, and Eddie feels someone watching him. It doesn’t feel creepy or bad because he can feel the way that Steve has shifted to lean over him. Eddie opens his eyes slowly and takes in the view of Steve staring down at him with a small smile on his face. Eddie rolls towards his side of the bed, where his clothes are piled up and grabs the penny before rolling back to Steve.

He gently presses it into Steve’s hand who continues to stare down at him with a look in his eyes that Eddie can only assume is reflected in his own gaze.

Steve takes a deep breath and whispers, “I was just thinking that I might be in love with you.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, and he feels Steve’s hand shift to press the penny into his. Eddie smiles and replies, “I think I might be in love with you too.”

Steve smiles all wide and bright in the way that makes Eddie feel like he’s the luckiest person in the world to be able to see it. Then, Steve’s hand is intertwining with Eddie’s and as the penny presses into their palms, they both lean in and kiss, only breaking away when they both break into wide smiles and begin laughing as all the tension drains from them.

Years later, Eddie gets the penny turned into a ring and when he gets down on one knee, all he asks is, “Penny for your thoughts?”

AO3 Link (for @humanityinahandbag <3)

[blue--ingenue]

soft!Sebastian headcannons - part 2

Author's Note: so flattered at the response part 1 has gotten, so here's part 2! i may be projecting a bit with the adhd headcannon, but i swear that boy at least partially has it

he’s incredibly protective of you. after losing his parents, nearly losing Anne, and knowing that you defeated Ranrok alone in fifth year, he vowed to never let any harm come to you. he knows you’re more than capable of holding your own in a fight, and his overprotective streak causes a fair amount of arguing between you both, but it stems from his love for you and desire to see you safe

much of his Crossed Wands fan base consists of younger students (including Lucan) that he’s defended from bullies over the years 

absolute caffeine gremlin. drinks coffee when the house elves apparate it onto the breakfast tables, but if he can’t get his hands on a cup, he’ll settle for tea. (this is one of the reasons Earl Grey is one of the first scents you recognize while making amortentia in Potions)

usually doesn’t approve of Garreth’s ‘experiments in class’ (enjoys mischief as much as the young Weasley, but doesn’t want to jeopardize his grade), but once slipped him a few sickles to commission him for an energizing brew

knows how to braid hair, and is pretty damn good at it. Anne taught him how when they were little and he’s been doing it ever since. if MC has long hair, he’s braiding it into a neat french braid before their Crossed Wands match so that it doesn’t get in their face while fighting. some of the boys in his year with fragile masculinity scoff, but when they see half of the students in their year fawning over him. they try to learn how to braid as well

(i’m literally picturing soft Sebastian lovingly braiding MC’s hair with gentle hands before taking his place next to them and absolutely decimating their competition. the complete 180 from tender to lethal has most of the crowd swooning)

is absolutely the little spoon, but will take over as big spoon if you ask him to. whenever he’s stressed or overwhelmed from school (or the danger you often find yourselves in) he just wants to be held

has a major sweet tooth. he always has some sort of sweet with him. whether it’s a chocolate frog, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans he’s split with Ominis, or a pastry tucked away from dinner

absolutely ADORES museums. his parents used to take him and Anne to wizarding history museums as well as the natural history museum in London. seeing artifacts up close while satiating his thirst for knowledge is his personal paradise

(possibly becomes a museum researcher after graduating. something a bit daring and dangerous that lets him put his dueling skills to use in the pursuit of contributing knowledge to his field)

has some degree of adhd that influences his impulsive decisions, risk-taking behavior, and constant switching from topic to topic. has many detentions from talking while the professor is speaking or engaging in unsanctioned spell work, but it’s not his fault classes aren’t stimulating enough 

loves dueling and defense against the dark arts because he gets to engage in hands-on activities after long days of having to sit quietly and still for hours of lectures

herbology isn’t his strong suit, but one day you tell him your favorite flower and he’s determined to grow them for you. a few days later in the undercroft you notice a little self-watering potting table with a few buds poking out from the soil. there are at least five herbology books flipped open to various pages on the exact flower you mentioned with little notes scrawled in the margins

he hands you a bouquet of the flowers once they’ve grown and you swear he looks positively elated

[otgo-brooklyn]

Older Brother!Slider with Baby Brother!Ice

Okay, so another contribution rant to the Top Gun Fandom:

Big Brother Slider, but ONLY, ONLY to Ice. And not the generic sibling relationship, no, but Ice is his Baby Brother.

For any who don't have that 'Baby' Sibling, as an eldest child, let me explain: A sibling is a younger, less better, version of yourself because your parents were a bit delusional and now there is Another™.

HOWEVER, a Baby Sibling, a BABY Sibling? No, they are essentially your own child, typically the youngest, they are your pride and joy, and when I tell you that with a Baby Sibling you become so protective over them you would commit horrible crimes for them- literally becoming an attack dog on a leash held by said Baby Sibling, that is a true Baby Sibling/Older Sibling relationship. The minute they are born they're just, your child, like so what the birth certificate says that their parents are my parents, that's obviously a lie. They legitimately become your child in more ways than one, whose only role in life is to be happy and loved. And this is SO the relationship between Slider and Ice.

Ice is the Baby Sibling™, with Slider as the protective older brother. Slider makes sure that Ice is happy, and cared for/loved, protected, everything for the Baby™. I cannot explain enough how much I love this head-cannon, and all the proof I'll ever need to explain it is this one GIF;

Look at Slider, the protective arm around the shoulder, the glare, the judgement in his very being, the way his jaw tenses-, compared to Ice, who is just sitting there, not even noticing, focusing on something else all happy like (Or as happy as Ice can get while in Ice-man mode (Or as happy as one can get when translating languages, if you saw my other post about Russian!Ice ;D)).

Slider nearly getting kicked out of the Top Gun program due to beating a fellow pilot unconscious because he DARED shit talk Ice

So they never gave Slider a DOB/specified age in Top Gun, but his actor, Rick Rossovich is 2 years older than Val Kilmer, so that only furthers the point of Slider's Older Brother Agenda

One time Goose was showing Ice how to cartwheel after Ice was interested in how he did it on the deck of the ship they were stationed on and Slider refused to allow Ice to do it because "What if he falls and cracks his skull open on the tarmac Goose!"

When reassured that Ice cracking his skull open isn't going to happen, and Goose was only going to demonstrate, Slider still wont budge on it. Ice never learned how to do a cartwheel to this day

Ice's foot getting caught in the track and wheels of a stationary, not turned on/working tank on accident and one singular, quiet, whispered "ow" after pulling it out of said track/wheel, was all it took to have Slider screaming his head off carrying Ice into medical absolutely positive that Ice just "Broke his own god-damn ankle, GET A MEDIC-"

Someone shoving past Ice on their way to the mess hall in a rush, causing Ice to stumble back literally 2 steps, and Slider getting in their face, slamming them into a wall with a "I swear you put your hands on Ice one more time, your not gonna have hands AT ALL"

He then slings his arm around Ice's shoulder and directs him to the mess hall, glaring at any poor soul who dared look in Ice's direction

They were at the bar and a woman started to approach Ice, who, of course was not noticing (he only has eyes for a 5'7" gremlin named Mav), and Slider shuts that down REAL QUICK. Like, no, not today Lilith, pick a different naval guy-

Give Mav The Talk when he notices Mav giving eyes to Ice, and Goose because Slider can never be too sure, and everyone observing this is sitting there like 'what the actual fuck' after Slider threatens to, and I quote, "French braid your fuckin' nervous system you shitty dwarf" towards Maverick amongst other colorful threats

It gets to the point where Slider is so protective over Ice, people don't ask Ice anything without looking to Slider for some kind of acceptance or denial, like;

Hollywood: Hey Ice do you wanna- Slider, the coldest look ever seen, actively dropping the temperature in the room while promising a slow and tortuous death: Hollywood: -help me figure out this trajectory angle equation for this [classified] mission? Ice, absolutely oblivious to the entire situation: Sure? I guess?

Its single-handedly the funniest and most terrifying thing to ever happen in Top Gun history, aside from whoever decided to put Maverick Mitchell in a plane

And the cherry on top is that Ice DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE at the entire situation

When someone tries saying how terrifying Slider is to Ice he just brushes it off, like, "Oh Slider? No he's very nice, he even walks with me wherever I have to go in the day. He's all bark and no bite"

And everyone in the immediate vicinity just looking at Ice either with pity or like he's stupid because he doesn't know

He never figures it out either

(This overprotectiveness doubles, if not triples when he meets baby Bradley Bradshaw, and Slider just cant compute because now there is another person who has my undying love and protection-)

(Goose once lost Bradley on a very important, very large Naval destroyer and the entirety of the Top Gun Class of '86 is frantically searching the entire ship before Viper finds out and one of them just stumbling into Slider sitting on a couch with Ice and Bradley just absolutely passed out, sleeping like a brick, essentially using him as human furniture, and the look Slider gives them promises a 100 years of death if they wake either of them up-)

(After Goose's death when baby Bradley lives with IceMav, he just clings onto Slider whenever he's over because "I feel safest with Pops, but Pops feels safest with Uncle Sli', so I'm safest-est with Uncle Sli'")

(Mav doesn't know whether to cry because that is so cute- or be annoyed that Slider is preferred over himself)

(After Bradley reconciles with Mav, he's caught sleeping(read absolutely dead to the world) on Slider's chest like when he was as a child and no one knowing what to do because "Rooster that is a 2-STAR ADMIRAL OF THE US NAVY-" Slider is just like "I'm safest-est", and Bradley sleepily chiming in with a "safest-est" and deciding to just go back to sleep like nothing happened)

[moodymisty]

I always imagined Cross' eyes to be sensitive and get strained sometimes and when they do he'd turn into a teddy bear or smth he'd just want to cling to you and bury his face into your shoulder to keep the light away while so needy for cuddles or hugs and his squad is just like

🕴 that our Cross?? (bc before he met reader if his eyes got strained hed be the most grumpy gremlin his brothers have ever met)

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: This is so cute!! I love the idea that Crosshair has eyes just as or close to as good as Hunter's thanks to his enhancements

Summary: Crosshair might be a loner but even he knows that sometimes tender loving care is what works best.

Relationships: Crosshair/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sensory overload, fluffy, Crosshair being a grumpy little shit that needs cuddles,

-Hey. You busy?

Looking over at your datapad you see a message from Hunter, before glancing back at your computer. Hunter knows damn well that you're always busy, it's more so a matter of if you're too busy to sneak away and do whatever he has in mind.

Well, your work is practically done, so you'll message back in a few minutes once you're free. Because you know damn well that once you start with them, you'll be roped into whatever mess is currently happening. Before you have a chance to finish however, Hunter gives some much needed context to his earlier message. Not too much, however.

-Come here and help deal with Crosshair.

Since when did you become the resident sniper tamer?

Though Hunter knows you well enough, as even though you don't respond, you quickly finish up what you've been working on before getting up. Their barracks are a good ways across the base so it's a decent walk, enough that you can send a quick message.

-On my way.

Part of you is curious what in the galaxy could warrant such am urgent sounding message from Hunter; Though you'd probably never be able to hazard a guess. Hunter doesn't respond, largely because he knows you'll be there the moment he does. Their barracks are a good ways out of the way, but the walk isn't that far. Tech has it timed, actually; In another odd random bit of knowledge he has stored away in the brain of his.

It seems this time you were particularly speedy, as he's a few seconds off when you arrive, the door opening. The moment you enter you can feel the tension, as everyone hovers around the center of the room. Hunter comes up to you, and you whisper:

"What happened?" Looking over to see Crosshair on his bunk, with everyone glancing his way, but attempting to be subtle about it. His hand is pressing against his eyes and forehead, hard enough that he surely can't see very well. Hunter fills you in with the only word that is necessary.

"Flashbang." Oh no.

You know Crosshair's eyes are incredibly sensitive much like Hunter's, which also makes him very sensitive to things like bright lights. The two of them are the main reason why they have the lights in all their barracks, and the Marauder, dimmed so low.

Tech is hovering close by, the closest that the Batch has for a medic keeping an eye on a fuming Crosshair. Wrecker comes closer to check and gets venom spit at him, before he presses his hand back onto his face.

While his brothers are concerned and wanting to help, hovering and asking constantly if he's ok are both things that don't work intermingled with someone like Crosshair. You know that he just wants pitch black, and silence that's just as deep as possible.

Sighing softly you step away from Hunter, walking over to his bunk. You don't say anything, just sit on the edge and gently put your hand on his shoulder. You've delt with this Crosshair before, so you have a decent idea of what helps and what doesn't.

Within a few minutes he pulls you closer to him, forcing you to lean back more until you're partly laying down. He wraps his arms around your body, as his face presses against the black of your shirt above your chest but below your shoulder; Wrecker groaning and walks by yelling:

"Hey! Keep it clean, we're still here!" Wrecker jokes, laughing loudly.

Crosshair's hand quickly darts out to get a piece of Wrecker, who deftly dodges it.

"Fuck off."

He feels your hand gently on the back of his head, fingers playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. His arms tighten around your ribs even more. His head is throbbing so much he doesn't care how he looks, or that what his brothers are saying isn't actually insulting. He'll just act like it is, and bite at them none the less. In a bit he'll be back to normal, but for now he'll indulge.

It's hard to believe that you've actually been a positive influence on his overall attitude, until you have times like this.

"Just leave him alone, Wrecker." Echo quietly speaks up from across the room, where he's cleaning dirt from the inner seams of his armor pieces.

You kind of wish you'd brought your datapad with you in hindsight, as now that Crosshair has you trapped, you have one hand completely empty as the other lays on the back of his head. It's also a little boring, just watching his brothers go about their individual work as quiet as possible.

A few months ago Crosshair would've never even considered doing anything remotely similar to this, but thankfully his edges have been buffed just the tiniest, tiniest little fraction.

You remember a long while back Crosshair had muttered that he didn't deserve you, and while you had vehemently denied the notion, he didn't seem to take it entirely to heart. You only hope these sorts of gestures help reassure him, relaxing with him as the thumping of his headache ever so slowly goes away.

Join the taglist here: @seriowan @simp-legend @nekotaetae @chad-something @coffeyorky @merkitty49 @lokigirlszendaya @totesnothere04 @get-wr3ckered @rebel-finn @mandoloriancookie @therealnekomari @loverofclones @notthatfanfictionwriter @lucyysthings @jennrosefx @fxlsealarm @crosshairs-wife @sinfulsalutations

[shady-tavern]

A Dash of Villainy within a Hero, Part One

Some warning ahead for attempted kidnapping, non-con drug use (not on the main character) and attempted murder, as well as being stuck under a collapsed building in the beginning, please take care of yourselves.

Edit because I'm a forgetful gremlin: This story was inspired by one of the prompts @entrophiceffects sent in. Thank you for that!

***

In all honesty, being stuck under a collapsed building with a villain was rather high on your 'would like to avoid' list, though it was just a tick above 'being stuck under a building alone'. At least you had your mandated mask with you to avoid breathing in anything bad.

Sadly, you weren't stuck with a two-bit villain or a newbie or someone you could have brushed aside. Instead, you were forced to try and keep your distance – as much as the small space allowed – to Madness.

Madness was a very dangerous, very high profile villain. The sort of villain that came with a file big enough to commit murder with. The sort of villain no hero was supposed to take on alone.

You stared at him as he shifted restlessly, the pocket the two of you were in just big enough for him to stand up. Neither of you dared to move much though, and you had to admit you had never seen the villain as tense as he was now.

Madness had never once bothered with a mask or helmet like other villains and heroes. He had always blatantly displayed his face, though no one had been able to find out anything about him either. Not his name or place of birth, not even a damn picture anywhere in any records.

If he ever went shopping he did so without being seen.

His face, right now, was a rigid grimace of badly suppressed fear and you had no idea if he had some sort of claustrophobia or if he was scared of the building collapsing the rest of the way. Which, fair enough.

The only reason you weren't visibly freaking out yourself was that your best friend was right outside. Song was guaranteed to have left to go get help, which meant you just had to avoid doing anything that would disrupt the fragile stillness of the space around you. 

You just had sit tight and wait and not think about the building that could finish collapsing at any moment. Deep down, you hoped it would at least be a fast death.

So you hid your shaking hands by pressing them against your slightly trembling thighs and you forced your breathing to remain slow and steady despite your fearfully pounding heart. The way The Defenders taught all their heroes to handle themselves if they were ever stuck somewhere dangerous and had to wait for help.

It was weird, though. The building would have never crumbled had your fellow hero Quake not misaimed his powers. Which was strange, like all heroes Quake had gotten thoroughly trained by The Defenders to ensure he had his powers perfectly under control. They were meant to rescue civilians after all, not endanger them. Or each other.

That Madness had gotten caught in the line of fire had been...unfortunate, to put it mildly. Or maybe Quake had aimed for him in the first place and had just...what, overlooked you?

You had to admit that you didn't like Quake very much. He was clearly interested in your best bud Song and was trying to flirt with her. Song found him nice enough without being interested in more, but something about him rubbed you the wrong way. 

Or maybe you were just a bit of a jealous twat, since he never wanted you around whenever he talked to your best friend.

"Sit down," you said after watching Madness twitch again. "Take a deep breath."

Madness' gaze snapped to you, sharp and dangerous as always. "What, are you worried I'm going to do something inadvisable?" Ho boy, he was high strung. Not that you could blame him.

The truth was, you didn't really worry about him lashing out. While you had absolutely no defenses against Madness' powers – barely anyone did – you actually had the upper hand in the current situation. 

If Madness made you go, well, mad, you were liable to disrupt the space around you and kill the both of you by making this pocket cave in. You, on the other hand, only needed one touch and he'd be out like a light.

"I'm not worried about you," you said, trying to aim for reassuring and ending up sounding just a little tense and annoyed instead. 

It was hard to sound nice and sweet and calming while being stuck under tones of concrete and steel and glass and wood. Besides, this was a man who had left plenty of your colleagues recovering from severe injuries. You weren't really interested in being nice to him of all people.

Madness raised a brow and studied you for a second, seemingly distracted from his intense tension for a moment. "Curious. I would have thought you heroes would pick fights no matter what. Even when it's ill advised."

You frowned at him. "Says the man who messes with anyone's head." Just this morning, before this entire awful situation, he had brought his powers down on an entire street, causing mindless panic and mayhem among civilians.

"Temporarily," he said with a careless shrug. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not like they'll remember the nightmares I put into their heads once they snap out of it."

While that was true, people never remembered why they had screamed their heads off and ran away in a blind panic, they still got hurt. Madness might not break minds, but he certainly caused his fare share of broken bodies. 

It was nothing but dumb luck that people hadn't yet run into traffic in their mad, uncontrollable fear and desperation. Either that or he was calculating enough that the chance of such injury was low. Low but never impossible.

"But people do get hurt," you pointed out. 

Madness smiled and it looked more like a baring of teeth. "Isn't that what heroes are for," he said sarcastically. "Saving all these innocents."

Dark anger sparked to life like the sudden fall of a hammer onto hot iron. It spread sharp and fast and you had always been bad at holding back when someone pissed you off. Song was always the one to either intervene or soften you back down from the jagged edges that rose to coat your tongue whenever you got furious.

"I don't want to always be saving people," you snapped out and for just a brief second Madness looked surprised and taken aback. "I don't want to clean up your messes just because you decided to be an asshole."

"Then why be a hero?" Madness asked, shifting to adjust his stance, the tension in his body ramping up. He was ready for a fight. "If you don't care."

"I do care," you answered with growing anger, words hard and fast, like an animal snapping its teeth. "But don't you dare push the responsibility of your actions onto me." 

You were ready to act yourself, as stupid as it was to fight here, but the anger bit deeper and sharper, spilling out all the words you wished you could say when days were dark and grim. When villains gloated and blamed and gaslit and did anything but take responsibility.

When Song didn't get out of bed, fighting with lingering pain after a villain had shattered both her legs and it had taken both multiple surgeries and heroes with healing powers to get her walking again. When you wanted to shout at people to stop being at each other's throat. To stop making their quarrels your problem by targeting innocents.

A muscle in Madness' jaw ticked and his pale violet eyes became a dark lavender, his power suddenly heavy and cloying in the air. 

"And yet you heroes insist on carrying the world on your shoulders," he sneered, voice growing low with his own anger. "You meddling, self-righteous pricks. Maybe you should have thought about what you are actually capable of before you took up the mantle."

"And you don't get to be a piece of shit and walk away saying 'oh, but I only was shitty because you didn't stop me'." You even ended up doing a mock-low voice as you snarled back at him, your voice coming out with an intensity you had only ever been capable of in emergencies.

Madness lifted his chin, looking ready to throw hands, when there was the grind of concrete and both of you fell silent, nervously watching the ceiling. He coughed as some more dust rained down between the cracks, grimacing at whatever taste was coating his tongue.

You had a spare mask, every hero did, but you didn't particularly want to hand it over. Not to him, not to this asshole. But Song would.

Taking a deep breath that came out more like an aggravated sigh, you grudgingly reached into your back pocket and pulled out the spare mask. 

You knew Song would have offered it to Madness right away, but she was always the better one between the two of you. There was a reason why she was your anchor and lodestone. Your compass when your mind grew dark and your heart wavered. When you felt like you couldn't trust yourself to keep doing the good thing.

When, for once, you wanted to pay back every inch or hurt you and your friend had to endure. When you wanted to take your pound of flesh from the villains, instead of having it ripped from your mind and body by them.

You would never agree with others that being a hero meant sacrificing, meant burdening yourself and living only to rescue and protect others. And you would most certainly never bend and concede to villains.

"Here," you tossed the mask at Madness, who caught it with the sort of startled expression that told you he had expected something dangerous. You didn't bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes. "Now sit down and play tic-tac-toe with me, asshole."

"What." It came out flat, but he did put the mask on and once you folded your legs to sit cross-legged, he ever so slowly did the same.

You drew a little grid into the dust and after an incredulous look, Madness caved. It became obvious very quickly that both of you were competitive assholes and you upgraded from tic-tac-toe to checkers with little pebbles and at last chess.

You were shoddy at chess though and no challenge, so you went back to checkers. You were on your tenth round when there was a rumble in the air. You easily recognized the sort of shift in gravity and density that heralded telekinetic powers and you breathed a sigh of relief. Help had come.

At the same time, there was a dull whirring sound from below. A moment later, the ground shifted beside Madness and very slowly and very carefully, a little robot dug its way out.

"Found you!" the robot exclaimed with a voice you could identify easily enough as Doctor's. Huh, you hadn't known the two villains were allies. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Is that safe?" Madness asked and the robot made a little pffft noise, already burrowing back into the hole. It was frighteningly fast in widening it far enough for a person of Madness' stature to squeeze through like a worm. 

"I'll drag you," the robot said cheerfully, small arms extending to grab Madness around the collar. "Let's go!"

"Bye," Madness managed to say as he was pulled into the hole. Just in time as well, for the rubble shifted, power humming in the air, creating an opening for you to duck through.

You hurriedly left the space behind and the second you emerged from that little pocket, strong arms wound around you, crushing you against a soft chest and tough armor, while big wings wrapped around you.

"Hey, Nightingale," you said quietly into her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, breathing a sigh of relief. Your voice came out trembling, "Knew you'd get me out."

"Always," she answered and hid you with her wings until all the repressed fear and worry and tension shivered out of you. Since she didn't usher you into an alley or anything of the sort for privacy, no one was around to ask why the two of you were hugging for such a long time.

When at last you pulled back, she asked, "What happened to Madness? Did he hurt you?"

"No, he got away," you said, which was true enough. You cast her a look that told her you'd tell her everything later and she threw an arm over your shoulders, one of her wings coming up to curl around you. 

Her wings were beautifully big, arching over her head and each one was easily as large as she was. She always kept them tight to her spine when she was walking outside, to avoid the ends trailing in the dirt. That was why the two of you kept your shared apartment very clean so she could relax at home at least. 

She led you out from the rubble sheltered corner and you saw that only one other hero was around. Gravitos, who must have been the one to dig you out. She was on her phone, talking to The Defenders, you'd guess, saying that no one else was in the area and that crews could arrive to clean up and clear the street.

"You good?" she asked and when you nodded, offered a small smile. "I'm glad. Man, but Quake is lucky the building was closed for renovations. Otherwise we'd have a lot of deaths on our hands."

Which would most likely cost Quake his Defender contract and official hero license. You still had no idea if he had planned to hit the building like that, but either way, the way he had used his powers had been negligent at best.

Gravitos accompanied you back to The Defenders headquarter, the large hero hiring company where pretty much everyone was under contract. It was for the best really, the company protected heroes from lawsuits – unless it was proven they acted maliciously – and offered all the gear, gadgets and medical care they needed.

After a quick check-in in the med bay and debrief with your superior, you were ready to get out of costume and go home. Song didn't leave your side, staying close enough that you felt the brush of her wing every so often. It was reassuring and calming. 

If she strayed too far, you suddenly felt the weight of the building around you and you felt fear seize your heart again. You just wanted to go home, where no one would look at you. No one would stare and judge and you could sit outside. Maybe even sleep outside tonight.

"Nightingale!" Quake's voice made the two of you pause and you felt a fissure of irritated tension wrapping around your spine. Quake was friendly and, well, fine, but something about him irked you endlessly. Aside from burying you under ruble, that was.

He offered Song a charming, hopeful smile and while you would never hold her back from a date, she wasn't interested and you hoped he'd get the memo one of these days. Besides, he had once said that he found it weird that you two were such good friends.

'It's almost like you're more than that,' he had once said. As if friendships couldn't be just as meaningful as romantic relationships.

Song was your family and she had been your best friend since her first day in middle school. After moving to the city and being the pretty, tall, winged new girl, she could have had any friend she wanted, but the second she had seen you being bullied, she had taken your side.

You still vividly remembered the large wings, arching to shield you and force your bullies to back up or get whacked in the head, feathers fluffing to make her look even bigger.

No one had ever stood up for you, but here she was, defending you with unyielding ferocity. She had remained at your side afterwards, one wing always slightly extended and for the first time, you didn't have to worry about anyone tossing anything at your back.

And there she had stayed throughout the day and there she had been the next day and before you had known it, you had your first proper friend since kindergarten. Elementary school had been fine, but you hadn't really clicked with any of the kids there and middle school had swiftly become your waking nightmare.

Until Song and her steadfast loyalty and fierce friendship. The two of you had stuck together through anything and everything and you were a package deal. Both of you had made sure to haggle for team contracts when The Defenders had hired you.

Besides, while Song was fast and strong, her true power laid in her voice. She was one of the few who could go up against Madness' abilities, but she needed a little bit of time for her voice to unfold fully. 

Which was where you came in. You were fast and maybe you were a bit vicious and mean when it came to villains. You ensured nothing and no one interrupted her, that she wouldn't have to worry about protecting her own back.

Besides, if people focused on Song, they forgot to focus on you and you had possibly smirked a bit too much when you had taken those folks out. It wasn't your fault they forgot that, while Song could sing an entire street asleep, you needed but a touch to knock people out or leave them unable to fight with your electricity.

One of Song's wings arched to settle around you again as she stared down Quake. "Sorry, Quake, we're on our way out. Besides, I think you owe my friend an apology."

He suddenly looked chagrinned and bashful. "Sorry," he muttered at you. You couldn't help but think that he didn't really mean it. Then again, you were too tired to go and pick a fight, so you just hummed something that could be vaguely interpreted as acceptance.

Quake immediately turned back to Song. "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to meet up later."

So he was finally asking her out directly. It was a surprise that he had waited that long, considering is somewhat brash personality, but maybe he was just a little shy when it came to romance. Or Song intimidated him, she could be just as brash in return after all.

"Sorry, no," Song said, wing settling more firmly around you, surrounding you in warmth and softness and the familiar scent of fresh air and sunshine.

"The weekend, then?" Quake asked hopefully and Song shook her head, not even pretending to think about it. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"No, thank you," she said more firmly and you saw his smile flicker, before he shrugged, pretending to be unaffected.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind," he said and quickly stepped back, leaving with a wave.

Song gently pushed you onward with her wing. "I was hoping he'd give up on his own. Come on, let's go home."

Song ordered some takeout on the way home, which arrived a couple of minutes after you finally were back in your cozy apartment. It was bigger than most people would consider necessary for two people, but Song's wings needed space and you didn't want her to feel cramped. 

Besides, a hero's salary at your level was nothing to sneeze at, so you might as well get a place where you both could stretch out and be comfortable.

You spent the evening on the couch with her, sheltered under a big, warm wing and your comfort movies playing on TV one after another.

"Madness was stuck with me," you ended up mumbling as, at last, you felt your exhaustion catch up with you. "He was an asshole."

"No surprise there," Song said and you slumped a bit more against her side, your head on her shoulder. "How did he get out?"

"Doctor came for him," you murmured, eyes falling shut. "Didn't know they got along."

If she answered, you didn't hear her as you swiftly fell asleep. You did have nightmares, but every time you woke up, gasping for air and terrified to see a building crumbled above you with the heavy weight of impending death, there were soft, warm wings. 

You clung to the feathers and slowly calmed back down. Song wasn't holding you, but she was close and snoring softly, both wings wrapped loosely around you. They'd be sore in the morning, but you felt helplessly glad that she was here. Keeping you safe in whatever ways she could.

*.*.*

Quake, while having gotten the message that Song wasn't interested, now seemed intent to at least be Song's friend.

Just hers, though, not yours.

You only realized what Quake was successfully trying to do when you started to back off the moment he showed up, giving them space to chat. It was clear he didn't much like you. Song started to frown a little whenever she noticed you leaving, a wing getting extended as an invitation for you to stay.

Frowning to yourself, you wondered if you were too clingy. It wasn't like you spent every day, all day with Song, but you were a team out in the field, which was perfectly normal. There were other duos or even trios or bigger teams that never switched their members out.

"Hey," Song approached you just as you got ready to clock out and head home a month after the collapsed building incident. "Would you mind waiting? Quake said there is a problem with some of the ceiling panels in the training room. Two fell down and one nearly nailed a training newbie in the head." 

She pointedly flexed her wings. "I'll take a look and check if any others are liable to fall, so the training hall can still be used until someone can come in to fix them."

You would have waited for her any other day, but the two of you were low on groceries and depending on how long this took her, the stores might be closed by the time you went home. "I'll head out first and get our fridge stocked back up," you said. "Anything you want for dinner?"

She perked up at that since she hated cooking, but you loved it. "Anything you want. Your food is amazing." Your friend had let you know more than once that she would fully support you if you wanted to switch careers from heroism to being a chef.

"This shouldn't take me too long, hopefully," she said and with a brush of the tip of her flight feathers against your shoulder, she was gone.

You left swiftly and you were already two streets away from the hero headquarters, when you realized you had left your phone in the locker room. Groaning, you turned around and trudged back towards the building.

Instead of taking the main doors and dealing with people you took a side entrance, swiping your card to be let in. The side entrance was usually reserved for people who wanted to avoid attention, especially paparazzi attention.

Quietly slipping through the hallways, you took some backdoors and an old staircase to avoid running into any of your colleagues. You just wanted to dip in, grab your phone and get out without anyone stopping you along the way.

There were plenty of heroes who didn't hesitate to ask others for help with their paperwork. You could freely admit that most of your colleagues sucked at the whole bureaucracy part of the job. 

There were always a couple of heroes stuck in their offices after hours, despairing over documents. Everyone who was done for the day or, god forbid, was actually good at paperwork, learned to get out of dodge fast.

Your quiet path brought you past the communication room and you tip-toed to avoid distracting the people inside accepting calls and alerting heroes about any disturbances or attacks that needed dealing with.

"Dispatching Quake and Nightingale," you overheard a voice say and you paused. "They are taking care of a minor disturbance."

Your nose wrinkled, feeling sorry for Song. That's what happened to anyone who didn't clock out in time. Though, in all fairness, if there was an emergency or a all-hands-on-deck situation, then everyone was called in, no matter what.

You snuck away, lest these guys noticed you and thought you could be dispatched too. You'd make sure to prepare a big dinner for your friend once she came home. You reached the locker room and got your phone without running into a single soul.

You were sneaking down the hall again to leave when you heard a heavy thump and grunt. One of the doors to a small break room was tossed open a moment later.

"Fuck, didn't know she'd be that heavy," a too familiar voice hissed. Quake. Pausing, you frowned and a bad feeling unfolded its wings in your gut. The same bad feeling that had helped you avoid villain attacks in the past. The sort of sixth sense pretty much every hero developed pretty early on.

Shouldn't Quake be heading out? Furthermore, shouldn't Song be with him?

You ducked closer to the wall, just as Quake stepped through the door backwards – dragging your unconscious friend with him. He was grunting and struggling, a wing catching in the doorframe and your heart leapt into your throat. You were moving without much thought and before he could notice you.

All it took was a charged touch to the back of his neck and he went limp, slumping down silently. You caught him and winced as Song fell from his limp arms.

"What the fuck," you whispered, hoisting him over your shoulder to deposit him off to the side. You were quickly checking Song, finding her breathing and heart rate steady. A glance into the room showed two glasses on a side-table, one empty the other mostly full.

Had...had Quake laced her drink? No, surely not. He was a hero. Then again...being a hero didn't mean people couldn't be massive pieces of shit. There had been scandals in the past, after all.

You heard more steps approach from the old, rarely used staircase and you were about to shout for help, when you heard a voice speak up, "He should have waited until she agreed to let him give her a lift home and he had her in his car. How are we supposed to get her to the underground garage with those fucking wings?"

What the fuck was going on here?

You hoisted Song up and back through the door just in time to close it as people rounded the corner.

"Song? Come on, wake up," you hissed, lightly zapping her, but she didn't react. Shit, she really was drugged.

You stared down at your best friend and realized that you had no way of dragging her away before that door got opened by the people outside. Song was heavy, for one. You only came up to her shoulder and she was muscular from long hours of training and flying and her wings were heavy too. 

Each wing was as big as she was after all, and right now they were slumped, lying half open. Just alone getting her through a door would take minutes.

Of course you had trained until you were strong enough to drag her anywhere in an emergency and you knew how to deal with her wings when they were flopping all over the place, but that didn't mean it was a particularly fast process.

Mind made up, you swiftly laid her down her beside the door and hid on the other side. The door opened, swinging in your direction and you had ducked around it and had gotten your hands on the two newcomers before they could spot you or call out.

They thudded to the ground and you stared down at two people you had never seen before. They were not fellow heroes.

Pulling them fully inside and ducking outside to get Quake, you left them tied up and muzzled. They'd be out for a bit, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Rooting through their pockets, you found no ID, but a general keycard for the Defenders building, along with a phone on Quake.

Pocketing that, you went back to Song, gripping her and dragging her outside. You were covered in sweat by the time you managed to, ever so carefully, pull her down the stairs and past the communication hub.

You got Song all the way outside the building and into an alley unnoticed, panting heavily. Your first instinct was to bring her home, but...what was going on here? What if your home wasn't safe anymore? Hissing a curse, you pulled out the phone you had nicked from Quake and opened it.

The instructions you found on it were chilling.

Quake had tried to kill you when he had collapsed a building onto you. Quake was to isolate Nightingale if he didn't succeed in killing you, drug her and contact this number once she was down for the count. 

Quake had done so, which was when the communication center had gotten the message that they were sent out to deal with a problem. Communications never questioned orders if they came from high up, but only then.

Nightingale was to be handed over and this device destroyed. Quake was to head to the spot where the fake mission was supposed to take place and plant all the necessary evidence, as well as blow enough things sky high, that people believed Nightingale had died. 

That they had run into a new, too powerful villain unexpectedly. 

It was recommended to kill you first if possible, so no one would question the story. So no one would look into it any further.

You stared at the phone in complete and utter disbelief. Your mind was blank and still for a long second, then something ugly and panicked rose. Something angry.

You pulled out your own phone, snapping pictures of the conversation, of the instructions, before closing your fingers around the burner phone and frying it so viciously it started to catch fire. Dropping it to the ground, you hoisted Song up again and started dragging her further.

You could not return home, but that didn't mean there weren't other spots you could hunker down in. You hotwired a car in a camera-free zone two streets from the headquarters and stuffed Song in, wincing at the cramped space for her wings. There was a reason she had never bothered with getting a license.

By the time you had Song safely in a little hiding spot the two of you had scouted out a year ago, you were exhausted and your mind had run over everything at least a million times. You watched her closely for any signs that something would go wrong as she laid on her side, wings a bit awkwardly draped.

Something was going on here. Something big and bad and it itched at you to go back and find out more. To question Quake.

When Song stirred, you felt ready to sag in relief and maybe cry a little, but instead the anger amped up a bit. When her eyes peeled open, you were perhaps crackling a little, so charged with electricity that you didn't dare touch her.

"What?" Song slurred and you leaned into her view, her tense expression immediately easing with visible relief.

"Take it easy," you said when she slowly managed to sit up, shifting her wings and nearly knocking one into you. Then her eyes widened and you saw the moment memory flooded back. Her gaze snapped up to you, alarmed and horrified and confused and you pressed your lips together grimly for a moment.

"I think something very bad is going on, Song."

*.*.*

See, most people probably wouldn't go straight back to The Defenders headquarters, but neither Song or you were normal. No hero was, you had all lost your sense for normal levels of danger long ago.

Song was landing on the roof, gliding down the last bit to make the descend silent and smooth. She knew exactly which part of the roof was a camera dead zone.

"Be careful," she whispered, reluctantly pulling back. Song was great at an amazing number of things and you loved her for that, but her wings were not made for sneaking around. She was just too big. "I'll stay close by, so don't hesitate to jump out of a window if necessary."

In case someone caught you, she didn't say. You squeezed her arms before stepping back and she took flight again, while you zapped the keycard pad at the door, carefully controlled, which caused it to swing open.

You were so glad you had trained and trained a stupid amount of hours to be able to do that.

The good part was, accessing the building from the roof meant you were closest to the offices of the higher ups. And someone there had to be involved, in order to inform communications about sending heroes out without consulting them first.

Imagine your surprise, therefore, when you slipped through the door into an ostentatious hallway and you saw a very familiar person skulking about. You had no idea how Madness of all people had made it into the hero headquarters, but he was either going to be a problem or...perhaps you could work together.

Just this once and no more, he was an asshole after all.

He was distracted enough that you actually managed to sneak up to him and when he did notice, you were close enough to press a hand to his back. A silent warning, to keep his powers well away from you. Considering the way he tensed all of a sudden, his muscles flexing beneath your palm, he got the message.

"Not sounding the alarm, hero?" he sneered down at you and you realized belatedly that the moment you'd open your mouth, he'd know exactly who you were. ...well, you had already dug your grave, hadn't you?

"Tic-tac-toe," you ended up whispering back, watching his eyes widen briefly. "You don't fuck me over, I don't fuck you over, deal?"

He paused, frowning, "Why are you sneaking around in your own place of work?"

You smiled grimly. "I guess that happens when someone tries to kidnap my friend from the inside."

He stilled, his head tipping slightly to the side and it became impossible to read his face. You could only tell he was thinking rapidly from the way his gaze was flickering between your eyes.

"Alright," he conceded and you cautiously, carefully, removed your hand. His eyes remained pale though, which was a relief. Then again, if he made you go mad, he'd just blow his own cover.

"Do you know if anyone's still here?" you asked and he actually stepped aside a bit to let you sidle up beside him. Which was so weird. You knew that sometimes villains and heroes worked together briefly, but you never had.

"No," Madness whispered back. "Everyone's home as far as I know."

"Then why are we whispering?" you asked quietly and he sent you a look like he thought you were daft. You rolled your eyes and straightened from your crouch beside the wall.

You knew where the cameras were in this building, because maybe you had been involved in a little prank war last year and you had memorized all the camera positions for the sole purpose of not getting caught.

Madness seemed to have decided to stick by you, for he followed you when you wove your way through the hallway, ducking into the first office. There were six in total, each double the size of your apartment, which was just ridiculous.

"Ugh, rich people," you found yourself muttering as you beelined for the desk and the computer.

The moment you sat down in the chair, Madness braced one hand on the backrest and leaned over to watch what you were doing. As the computer booted up, you reminded yourself to not be an asshole to the person willing to not rat you out.

"What are you looking for?" you asked as you were logged in. The higher ups had their passwords saved by default, it seemed. Either that or they were just lazy. And a little bit careless. "I'll help you look."

Madness was silent for a long moment, then he answered, "I'm looking for the Phoenix Project."

You had never heard of that, but you were willing to look. You found no information on either the project or Song on this computer, so you moved on to the next office.

You had to try all of the computers, before, on the very last one, you finally found something. There was one mail, exactly. It had been sent around the time Quake had contacted the person on the other end of the burner phone that he had Song drugged and ready for pickup.

And without Madness, you would have never discovered the mail. It was sent to an anonymous person, with only one sentence: 'The Phoenix has gained its wings.' Below it was the same time and place for pickup that had been on Quake's phone.

"Is that all?" Madness asked, still hushed. He sounded less than pleased. "Are you certain?" But his tone of voice said he knew this was it, he had looked over your shoulder the entire time after all.

"I think we may have to talk," you said quietly, mind whirring. There was something going on, something big. You leaned back a bit to look up at him. "What say you to a temporary truce?"

"Why?" Madness asked with an undertone of sharpness. His smile was unfriendly. "I thought you didn't like me."

You smiled back just as sharply and humorlessly. "I don't." Your mock-smile fell away. "But whatever you're looking into, they were trying to kidnap my friend and sell her as dead to the rest of the world. They tried to kill me too, back when that building collapsed, so no one would look for her."

Madness grew serious, the tense antagonism falling away. "And here I thought it was just my pretty head they wanted dead." He tipped his head again, peering down at you, weighing how honest you were. How willing he was to exchange information.

 He stepped back. "Alright. Truce." He then smirked at you. "Let's see if your cute little hero heart can take the truth."

You wondered if it was too late to snap at his throat like an enraged woverine. "We'll see if your lying villain tongue is capable of telling the truth."

His eyes narrowed and you stared back at him, once again in a stalemate where you were close enough to knock him out before he could use his powers. You knew he was the more powerful one between the two of you, normally. That he could leave you a screaming, sobbing mess and you could do nothing about it.

But right now, you had an edge you wouldn't have otherwise.

"We'll just have to see, won't we," Madness muttered back.

The sudden clack of a door opening down the hall and voices filtering in made both of you flinch. You reached out to yank out the power cord of the computer, making it go dark. 

Madness shifted beside you, looking ready to fight. "How do you plan to get us out of here?"

You tipped your head towards the window and smiled. "Afraid of heights?"

"Not in the slightest," he said, stepping back to let you stand up. He didn't look away from you and neither did you take your gaze off of him. "Why?"

You forced yourself to break eye contact and head to the window, yanking it open and hopping up onto the windowsill. You hesitated, then held out your hand.

"Are you willing to trust a hero?"

He stared at your hand, then glanced over his shoulder at the voices coming closer. It was impossible to overhear individual words, but it sounded like an argument. He looked back at you, his face impossible to read.

He didn't answer, just reached out to grasp your hand back. He allowed you to pull him close and it became a very squished situation, with both of you crouching on the windowsill. The ground was very, very far away. He was tense beside you, staring down, while you scanned the sky.

The voices in the hallway grew closer still and his tension ramped up. That was when you spotted Song ever so faintly and jumped, pulling him with you.

To his credit, he did not let go of your hand, not as you fell and not when Song swooped in to catch you, carrying you away into the night.

You were surprised that he had been willing to trust you at all and maybe, grudgingly, you respected him a bit for that. Still, you could admit that holding a villain's hand was definitely a first for you.

And, well. Maybe, just maybe, you weren't going to regret offering him a hand when it was all said and done.

Part Two

*.*.*

Tag List:

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[bruciemilf]

this concept that won't leave my brain. It's like a little gremlin banging to be let out.

Particularly, - Batman is Gotham's hero; He's not like any other baby faced, squeaky clean, popular good guy. He's scarred and brutal and violent in his service.

But it's fine, because Gotham is like that, too.

It's never peaceful, but it's standing strong, and there's an unanimous agreement they have Batman to thank for that.

The thing about Bruce is that he gives. He bleeds for Gotham, dies little by little every night protecting it, sacrifices everything he can and a little bit more so it won't be swallowed up by the evil that took his parents.

He doesn't expect parades, or celebrations, or gratitude because in his mind, it's just the decent thing to do.

Goodness isn't a chore. It's a choice. It's a sword you pick up again and again until your hands spill red and then pick it up some more.

And there's a collective fear in Gotham City. that one day, Batman would get tired of bleeding. When the GCPD gangs up on him, for refusing to let them gun down an Arkham escapee, they watched.

" He's not presenting a danger right now. His healthcare isn't enough to cover medication and he was dissociating. Let me take him back."

" For what? So he could escape again and rob another bank, like all the others?! Why are you protecting this psycho?!"

" He needs help."

" I don't care. His 'needs' aren't our damn problem. He wouldn't be anyone's problem if you just stepped aside and let us do the job you're too chicken shit to do. Who's side are you on, anyway?"

Batman's jaw is screwed tight, but he doesn't move. If he did, that guy hiding behind him would paint the streets red with a bullet hole in his head.

" We're supposed to work together, Batman."

" I work with people. Not pigs."

Commissioner Gordon tried to be fast, but he was pushed back as nearly half the police force swarm Gotham's knight; Kicking, stomping, punching, attacking because they know he can't attack back.

Because he's Batman, and they're just people. And the crowd watches, eyes wide and limbs frozen, until they can't. Until they won't.

There's a purse flying between the two crowds, hitting one of the officers square in the face.

" Hands off our Bat!"

There's pushing; That's what Bruce can see. Bodies on bodies, but it's easier to breathe again without a forearm pressing on his windpipe. He can't tell what's happening, but he's pulled back, handled almost... Carefully.

" Hey," he knows this voice, this face; It's the mailman, probably the one guy brave enough to deliver to the Waynes, who wonks for Damian three times as he drives away, elping him stand on a bad leg. " You alright, Batman?"

Someone else picks up his weight, - It's the owner of the grocery store his boys like to shop at.

She's glaring at police man currently sharing punches with an angry mob of people. " Bastards roughed you up, huh? Jim! Get your car!"

The people make way for Jim until he safely unlocks his car, threatening to fire anyone who even touches a trigger before he wheels over to where they're at. " Take care of him, will you?"

Jim nods, " I'll try."

They drive away, Jim locking the car because he knows Batman. But the people here are tough. They're just as angry and vengeful as their city is.

" Why?"Bruce is speaking outloud, watching a dozen, hundred people fight; For him.

Jim thinks it's very simple. " Gotham's fucked up. But we take care of our own," and he looks at Batman, eyes gleaming and grateful and relived, just like the runaway in the back-seat. " You may not be one of them, but you're one of us. Hope that's enough."

There's quiet.

" Thank you. For fighting for us."

"... Thank you for letting me."

Batman says nothing, but he doesn't need to. Jim doesn't say anything to his glassy eyes, or the temple of his lip.

Hope isn't permanent, but it's not lost. Not if they're reminded to find it.

[louroth]

Hello hello everybody! It is time for another months progress, and I am so excited to share with you, all the things I have gotten my grimy little gremlin hands on. First off, what we are all here for; writing. I have been on fire, to be honest! Last month I churned through the last of the first batch of erotica stories (there's 6 (!!!) of them on my patreon already) and set them up for publishing along with two more unseen ones- I'm still going over the logistics of where to publish for the best revenue (I know this sounds boring, but I have to make an income somehow, and hopefully find another audience as a smut writer on other platforms 💀 I love writing it so why not!), and I am making headway, learning the ins and outs of self publishing. On patreon, there are also two Q&A's that are written in a bit more fictional manner, in character: a more fun way than just writing answers straight up and down. I have enjoyed those so much! There's a bunch of other stuff I haven't even mentioned- honestly, I have to say, I'm really proud of my output on Patreon even though I have been really anxious about writing full time. It's going great! I have to thank my new friends and support-network on discord; you make this all worth it. I cannot express how fun it is to shoot the shit with you in vc, gaming together, or seeing your shenanigans in gen or your in depth theories (thanks for the brainworms!) or memes or staring longingly at the fanfic channel or drooling over your art (ouro related or not) or... Gah. You are just amazing people, and I will waste no opportunity in saying so. Thank you forever and ever and ever an-

When it comes to OUROBOROS, I am happy to announce that the next chapter is damn near done! I was halted because of the discovery that dashingdon is no longer supported by it's creator, and have been working on the twine version ever since, earlier than I expected- it's tough work, but I am so excited to make this an actual game made entirely by myself, and not submitting to a company that quite frankly leaves a bitter aftertaste. It is taking long to make because I want to make it mobile compatible from the start, which there isn't a lot of resources for. But I'm doing my best! The plan is that I will be posting the next chapter for Patreons in the coming month, and then treat you to a full twine release here on tumblr. I haven't made any rewrites when porting the twine build, but I would like to do that too... so we will see; this plan is not set in stone. I will just have to see how it evolves over the next month. Yes, beta-readers is still on the schedule, just holding off a little while while I wrap my head around this new coding landscape.

Other than that, I have been working on the set aesthetic for ouro, which has been really hard, a lot harder than I expected. You all know I am no wizard when it comes to graphic design, but I want to at least develop a set palette and imagery and portraits that is cohesive to the story. The work is ongoing, and I don't have much to say about it- even though it is taking a lot of my brain power. I'm hoping I can come to some kind of set and in depth conclusion that I am happy with before the twine release, because I want the game to feel like a treat to open up and play; a world to get lost in.

That's it! If you want to see weekly and more in depth dev-logs, you know where to go. I hope you have an amazing day or night, and we will see each other soon. xx

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 39

You, Joel and Ellie find a familiar face. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-38 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Allusion to SA (not described.) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 4.5k

“Why can’t your nose be 12 inches long?” 

Ellie was walking backwards, her small hands looped through the straps of her backpack, looking very pleased with herself. 

“Please no,” Joel sighed. 

“I don’t know,” you smiled. “Why can’t your nose be 12 inches long?” 

“Because then it would be a foot!” 

Joel groaned, you laughed, Ellie damn near cackled. 

“Surprised you even know how many inches are in a foot after goin’ through FEDRA school,” Joel muttered, but he smiled a bit. 

“Hey!” You said. “I resent that!” 

“Yeah, Doc, we all know you were the only teacher there who gave a shit,” Ellie smirked. “You’re the only reason any of us know there are 12 inches in a foot.” 

“Good thing you were my favorite student or you still wouldn’t know,” you teased. “I kept that information pretty close to the chest…” 

You thought you were getting close to the radio tower. Or at least, where you thought the radio tower was, anyway. It was pretty hard to tell. 

You hadn’t been on a road in a while, just walking in the general direction you needed to go. There hadn’t been another person since you’d had to stabbed a raider in the leg and Joel had killed him. 

The thought still made your stomach turn. You’d stabbed multiple people now. Not that you’d had much choice in the matter - one was trying to choke you to death, the other made it clear that he wasn’t going to let you pass without what he saw as fair payment. It certainly hadn’t been payment you wanted to give and it definitely wasn’t something Joel would have allowed. And who knows if it would have stopped with you. With Ellie there, you couldn’t risk it. The men had to die. You just hated being a part of it. 

But Ellie made it worthwhile. Killing for her, you could justify that. You could justify a lot for that kid. The next night, when you’d found a place to camp and Joel had gone to gather firewood while you and Ellie got things set for the night, she stood beside you, staring at your feet. 

“What’s up, Gremlin?” You asked as you set out your sleeping bag. 

“Yesterday,” she said, pausing for a moment. 

“What about it?” You asked when she didn’t continue, trying to sound normal even though your stomach was clenched tight. 

“I didn’t really get the pill thing until yesterday,” she glanced up at you before looking back at your feet. “And… Well thanks. For getting them for me and making sure I haven’t needed them…” 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” you brushed her hair back, your thumb against her temple. “But we’re going to do everything we can to make sure you never need them. OK?” 

“OK,” she turned to go back to her pack before turning to you again. “Something like that happened to you before, didn’t it?” 

You looked at her for a moment. 

“That’s not something you need to worry about,” you said, going into your bag for jerky. She frowned. “I mean it. That’s not what needs to be on your mind. OK?” 

She looked at you a second longer before nodding once, going back to her own pack. 

She didn’t talk about it again.

“That’s OK, Doc,” Ellie said, turning around and facing forward again. You caught a glimpse of her smug smile as she did. “It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope. It will always be stationary.” 

You laughed and Joel groaned before stopping, frowning at something on the horizon. You tried to follow where he was looking. 

“Is that…” You frowned, too. 

“Smoke,” he finished for you. “We head that way, see if we can’t find someone who knows where the fuck we are.” He looked to you and Ellie. “You two are gonna hang back until I figure out who we’re dealin’ with. Got it?” 

“Ugh, you never let me do anything fun,” Ellie sighed dramatically, throwing her head back to look at the sky. 

“Let you say all the puns you want,” Joel replied. “Haven’t strangled you yet, seems like enough fun to me…” 

“That is pretty fun,” she agreed. Joel adjusted your path and you and Ellie followed him. 

“Hey Joel?” Ellie asked. “Why did the scarecrow get an award?” 

Joel sighed. She leaned toward him eagerly, waiting for him to give in. 

“Because he was outstanding in his field?” Joel asked wryly. 

Ellie gaped at him. 

“Are you shitting me!” She ran around to the front of him and started walking backwards again. “Did you read the book? How did you know that?” 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, walkin’ like that,” he smiled a little as he said it, voice gruff. 

“Such a dick,” Ellie muttered, going to walk next to you, shaking her head and smiling as she did. 

The smoke was coming from a small cabin, all on its own. Joel drew his pistol, putting his arm out as you approached, not letting you leave the tree line.  

“Stay out here,” he ordered, looking at both of you. “I mean it.” 

“Fine,” Ellie sighed. “You get to do all the cool stuff….” 

Joel just shook his head, ignoring her, before heading down to the cabin. 

You were happy to obey for a while, until you saw a man approaching the cabin with an animal carcass over one shoulder and a gun over the other. 

“Shit,” you said, glancing at Ellie, who had nestled herself into some tree roots with a comic book from her pack. “If I tell you that you have to stay here, will you actually stay here?” 

“No,” she closed the comic and stood up, getting her pack on. 

You sighed. 

“Of course not. Alright,” you said. “Let’s go.” 

You crept down the hill to the cabin and peered in through a window to see Joel, talking to an older couple. His gun was drawn. You rolled your eyes. Because of course he has them at gun point. You fell back. 

“He’s fine,” you whispered, nudging Ellie back toward the fence. 

“Aw man!” She said. “Let’s just go inside…” 

“No.” 

You started back toward the fence but she ducked around you and threw open the door. 

“Ellie!” You followed behind her, Joel glaring at the both of you as you burst into the small living space. “Hi.” 

“Told you to wait outside,” he growled. 

“Didn’t want to leave you outnumbered,” Ellie said, standing up straight, chin high. “In case one of these fuckers tried something.”

“Ho-ly,” the man laughed. “Didn’t know you were traveling with a little firecracker. With these two, you really just want to go back east. Don’t want to risk it.” 

“Don’t want to risk what?” She asked. 

“Ellie,” Joel shot her a look. 

“The folks on the other side of the river,” the man said. “Haven’t met them, just seen what they leave behind. It’s nothing good.” 

You frowned, glancing at Joel. He looked almost sick. 

“They might just be protecting something,” you said, looking at him. “Think about it, about Tommy…” 

“Go that way and you won’t come back,” the man said. 

“You can’t scare us,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through worse than whatever’s out there…” 

“Scared him plenty,” the man nodded at Joel.

“Let’s go,” Joel said, heading for the door and stomping out into the snow. You watched him leave for a second. 

“I’m sorry for…” you looked at the door again and back to the couple. “All of that. He’s… we’ve been on the road a bit. He’s stressed.” 

“Don’t go past the river,” the man said. “Or stressed will be the least of your problems.” 

You followed Joel out of the house, pulling Ellie along behind you, only to find him holding onto a fence post outside. You frowned, slipping a hand up his back. He startled for a second. 

“Woah,” Ellie, frowned, coming up the other side of him. “Are you having a heart attack? You can’t die on us, Joel, because we’re not going to make it across the river of fucking death if you’re dead…” 

You pulled a glove off and pressed your fingers to the base of his neck, taking his pulse. 

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just shock of the cold air….” 

You looked him over for a moment. 

“Real quick, Joel,” you said, fingers still at his pulse point. “Tell me the textures of five things you can see…” He looked at you like you were insane. “Come on, textures, five things.” 

He winced for a second before looking out at the snow, taking a shaky breath.

“Snow is wet,” he muttered. “Fence is rough. You’re soft…” 

His heart rate was easing. 

“Give me two more,” you said, glancing around. “That deer skin there, what about it?” 

“That’s coarse,” he said standing up a little straighter. 

“Ellie’s boots?” You asked. He looked down at the rubber coated snow boots. 

“Smooth,” he said. 

Your fingers were still on his pulse point. It has eased quite a bit. 

“Good,” you took your fingers away.

“So he’s not having a fucking heart attack?” Ellie asked. 

“Nope,” you replied. “No heart attack.” 

“Thank fuck,” Ellie muttered, starting up the hill. “Because still have to get through the river of fucking death and hope that we don’t end up as some of the death.” 

*** 

Joel wasn’t sure what the fuck made him feel like he was about to drop dead but he was ready to make sure he never felt it again. 

He let Ellie get a bit ahead of them before he looked at you, walking beside him. 

“What…” he paused, not liking that he needed to ask you questions like this. “What was that?” 

“That was a panic attack,” you replied. 

“Jesus,” He muttered. “Felt like I was fuckin’ dying…” 

“Yeah, they do that,” you replied. 

He glanced down at you before looking forward again. 

“They feel like that for you?” He asked. 

“Pretty much,” you shrugged. “You came down from it pretty quick, which is good. I can teach you some ways to pull yourself out of them.” 

“They work?” He asked. 

You shrugged again. 

“Usually,” you said. “I haven’t had a bad one in a while.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“It’ll be OK, Joel,” you said, your hand on his back, grounding him. “It’ll be OK.” 

He tried not to think about it. About the way his head had decided to just cripple him. He hadn’t been able to fucking move, hadn’t been able to fucking think. What if someone tried to attack you then? If the man inside had decided to start shooting? What if it happened when there were infected or raiders or even just a goddamn bear? You’d be stuck trying to protect him and Ellie. He’d get you killed. He’d get you all fucking killed. 

His chest got tight. 

“Getting late,” he said as the three of you came up on a vantage point, looking down at the valley below. “Should wait for tomorrow to cross, make sure we have light.” 

There were caves not far from the river - ones that, thankfully, didn’t look to be regularly visited by people. Something Joel was on the lookout for even more now after the cabin. 

“Have to set watches tonight,” his jaw was set. “Especially with a fire…” 

“I’ll take first,” you said. He went to argue but you cut him off. “Joel, trust me. I’ll take first.” 

He nodded, looking back into the fire, trying not to think about the fact that you were trying to protect him when he should be protecting you. 

“So,” Ellie said, her arms looped around her knees. “We’re getting close to where we think these firefly guys are…” She looked between the two of you for a moment. “What do we do after that? You know, once they take all my blood and do whatever shit Doc is going to make them do with it. Then what?” 

Joel looked at you for a moment. You shrugged. 

“I’ll probably be stuck with them for a bit,” you said. “Helping to do research, see if what I learned so far is applicable to anything with your blood…” 

“OK but if you don’t have to do that,” Ellie said. “What would you want to do?” 

“I don’t know,” you frowned a little. “I haven’t thought about life that way in… well 20 years, at least. If the sky was the limit, I always wanted to live in France…” 

“Don’t they speak fucking French in France?” Ellie frowned. 

“Oui,” you smiled. “Et je parle Français aussi.” 

“Oh shit,” Ellie nodded. “Look at Doc!” 

“Pretty moot point now,” you shrugged. “Can’t exactly make it to Paris. And not a lot of French speakers here, so it ended up being a pretty useless skill but… I like to think there’s a version of me out there in the universe who’s drinking coffee at a cafe in France right now.” 

“Well there’s that Eiffel Tower in Vegas that’s probably still standing,” Joel shrugged. “Could head there.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Something tells me it lacks the allure that it had before the world ended.” 

“What about you?” Ellie looked to Joel. 

“I’m goin’ wherever she’s goin’,” he shrugged. 

“Ugh, that’s so lame,” Ellie rolled her eyes. You smiled. He shrugged again. “OK if she’s going wherever you’re going, where are you going?” 

Joel sighed, thinking for a moment. 

Like you, he hadn’t thought about life this way in years. Even longer than 20 years. He’d put all his wants and needs on the back burner some 33 years ago and what he wanted then was very different than what he wanted now. After 20 years of hell, he just wanted peace. Quiet. Something to call his own. 

“Probably a farm,” he shrugged. “Some land somewhere. Some place no one is going to bother me.” 

“Farming what?” She asked. 

He sighed. 

“I don’t know, never thought about it.” 

She kept looking at him, expecting an answer. He sighed again. 

“Sheep.” 

“Sheep?” She giggled. 

“Sheep,” he replied. “They’re quiet. Don’t say bad puns all the time…” 

“You love my puns,” she smirked. 

“What about you?” You asked. “I mean obviously I’m just going to drag you along with me wherever I go until you’re old enough to fight me off but…” 

Ellie smiled at that. 

“Anywhere?” She asked. You nodded. “I’d go up.” 

You smiled and nodded but Joel frowned. 

“Up.” 

“Up,” Ellie repeated. He raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t have many other places to want to go from inside the QZ, it was all walls and water and it’s not like I got to see anywhere else so I just looked up. It’s why I got to know Doc, I read everything in the school library and it wasn’t enough and my friend… She told me to see Doc about it, said she’d find stuff for me.” 

“Did she?” Joel looked at you. You were looking at your lap, embarrassed, but smiling a little. 

“Oh yeah,” Ellie smiled. “I read about fucking everything. There’s a probe that’s out past Pluto now, did you know that? We sent something outside of the fucking solar system. It’s probably still trying to send signals back to NASA because it’s a billion miles away and doesn’t know about fucking infected. 

“But the astronauts were the best. People who left the planet? So fucking cool. They were all fucking cool but know who the best one was?” 

“Sally Ride?” Joel smiled a little. 

“Sally fuckin’ Ride,” Ellie nodded. “Coolest astronaut name ever. So yeah. I just… I’ll go up.” 

Joel looked up at the stars as he tried to settle enough to sleep, trying not to think of you keeping watch, looking out for him because he needed protection. Because he seemed bound and fucking determined to find new ways to fail you. 

It was daylight when he woke up, you asleep at his side, Ellie standing with the gun. He shot up. 

“I insisted,” she smiled, a little proud. “Woke up right when Doc was about to get you up and talked her into it.” 

“Should have let her,” he growled. “You can’t just…” 

“Oh but I did,” she said. “And no one died. Look at that.” 

He ground his teeth. 

The three of you made it over the river without incident, Ellie thoroughly unimpressed with the “river of death.” 

“Haven’t seen any people,” she said. “Not even an infected to try to use for target practice. It’s kind of a let down, I was expecting better…” 

“You’re going to jinx us, Gremlin,” you warned. 

“Jinx sminx,” she said cheerfully. 

The walk was almost too easy. It set Joel on edge, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon and watching for the inevitable. It couldn’t be this fucking easy. 

“You know, I was stayed up all night wondering where the sun went,” Ellie said. “And then it dawned on me.” 

You laughed and Joel sighed. You smiled at him and he couldn’t help but smile a little back. When you were happy, it seemed to spill out of you and he wanted to devour it. He wasn’t sure how to get there on his own anymore, he couldn’t remember the last time he was happy on his own. But you were there. You could guide him to it, surround him in it, crack him open so he could soak it up. That was the way of you.

“Dam,” Ellie smirked a little, standing and looking down at the water below. 

Joel smiled a little. 

“You’re no Will Livingston,” he said. 

“Well who is?” She replied. “So that made electricity?” 

“Yeah,” he said. She opened her mouth and he cut her off. “Ask the science teacher, kid, not me.” 

“OK Doc,” she said. “Science for us!” 

You laughed a little. 

“Basically, water moves through the dam and pushes a turbine that generates energy,” you said. “But I’d like to remind you both that I’m a biologist, not a physicist. You want me putting your organs back in your body, not making a building.” 

“Or running a dam?” Ellie teased. 

“Or running a dam,” you replied before you frowned. “It looks like it’s in really good shape, though. I’m surprised it held up that well, especially with the temperature swings you get in this part of the country… It looks like it’s still running…” 

Your frown deepened, stepping closer to the edge of the overlook the three of you were standing on. Joel reached out and took your wrist, instinctively holding you back. 

“How would it still be running,” you said, almost to yourself. 

“Guys?” Ellie said. “What if this is the river of death?” 

You looked at Joel. 

“We should move,” he said. 

You didn’t make it far. 

He heard them before he saw them, about a dozen riders on horseback, cresting a hill and running for you. 

“Behind me!” Joel grabbed you and Ellie, putting you both behind him, looking over his shoulder. You were behind Ellie, your back against hers as the riders circled you, your arms looped through hers. Joel’s hands went up. 

“Joel,” you looked back at him. Your eyes were wide. 

“I’ll talk,” he said. “Just stay back…” 

You were fully circled now. But no one was shooting yet. No one was even pointing a gun at you yet. A good enough sign. 

“Ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” Joel said. “Just passin’ through, headed west…” 

“Drop the gun,” one of the riders ordered. “Anything the girls are carryin’ too.” 

Joel looked back at you and gave you a nod. You took your gun from its holster and dropped it on the ground, keeping your arms back around Ellie as much as you could. Joel slid the rifle from over his arm and put it down. 

“You two,” the man who spoke before said. “The girls. Take five steps back, in opposite directions…” 

Joel looked back to you and you looked at him before you crossed to his right, Ellie to his left. Your hands were up and you glanced his way, eyes wide and pleading. He knew what you wanted to do. He gave you a look, one that he was sure you were about to fucking ignore.

“We can talk this through,” Joel began. 

“No, we can’t,” the man snapped. 

“Yes we can,” you said quickly. Joel groaned. Of course you were going to fucking ignore him. “I’m a doctor, I have some medications with me. I can provide medical care for you or any of your people…” 

“Won’t do us any good if you’re infected, will it?” The man said. “Been near any infected?” 

“Ain’t any out here,” Joel said. 

“The hell there ain’t,” the man replied before whistling. A dog - big, at least part German Shepherd by the looks of it - came forward. “You’re infected? He’ll smell it. Rip you to pieces. Last chance to go with some dignity.” 

Joel looked to Ellie. Her eyes were wide. The man whistled again.

The dog went for him first, smelling him and moving on to you. You were looking at him, panic in your eyes. You didn’t know what the fuck to do either. Joel tried to think, come up with some kind of plan, something to at least get you and Ellie out of there in one piece. If he could get to the gun he could maybe shoot the dog but that’d likely just get all three of you killed. He could try taking down as many of the riders as possible while the two of you ran for it but there was no way in hell you could out run people on horseback. 

The dog was satisfied with you and trotted to Ellie. He was out of time. His heart was pounding, his stomach in knots and he could only watch as… the dog started licking Ellie. She giggled and got down on the ground with it, scratching behind its ears. 

“Hi there!” She let it lick her face. Joel looked at you and saw you relax. 

“So what the fuck is a doctor doing all the way out here?” The man snapped. 

“Lookin’ for my brother,” Joel said. “That’s all.” 

“I’m happy to take a look at anyone who needs it,” you said, glancing at Joel again. “Then we will move on, we don’t want any trouble, we’re just looking for his brother.” 

A woman came forward, her eyes narrowed at Joel over the handkerchief covering most of her face. 

“What’s your name?” She asked, voice sharp. 

He looked at you before he answered.

“Joel.” 

***

“Why’s Joel get his own horse?” Ellie muttered. 

“Because you’ve never ridden a horse,” you replied. 

“Can’t be that hard,” she said. 

You smiled. 

“Just sit tight,” you said. “I think we’re almost there.” 

There was a wall, looming on the horizon and it seemed like you were being led right for it. 

The woman hadn’t given you much of any context but you were trying to not get your hopes up. You hoped she reacted that way because she knew Tommy and that Tommy had talked about Joel. They looked enough alike, Joel was an unusual enough name, that might be all it took to get her to want to bring you into town. 

You hoped that meant he was still alive. 

You weren’t sure what to do about Tommy if he was there. Your mind had been plenty happy to not really think about it, putting it off until it would actually be an issue. 

Tommy had been one of your best friends before he left. He was the person you were closest to outside of Andrew and Jess. But he’d set a bomb. He’d killed dozens of people. He’d almost killed you. 

But it was Tommy. 

And that was before considering the fact that, the last time you’d seen Tommy you’d been sleeping with him and now you were back together with Joel.

“Think they know Tommy?” Ellie asked quietly. 

“Not sure,” you replied. 

“Do you think Joel will be OK if they don’t?” She looked back at you over her shoulder from her place tucked against your torso. You gave her a little squeeze with your arms, keeping your grip on the reins. 

“We’ll make sure he is,” you said. 

The front gate loomed and creaked open as you approached, at least 25 feet tall. Whatever this was, it was well protected. 

Behind the gates was a small western town. It was almost painfully charming, small storefronts with front porches, no building taller than two stories. But the strangest thing about it was the fact that there was no sign of decay, no indication of a looming power ready to crack down and  crush the life out of everything. You nudged your horse along side Joel’s now that you were safely within the walls of the town. 

“You OK?” You asked. He just gave you a nod, searching the town as you rode through it, eyes never stopping. 

You knew the second Joel did that Tommy was here. You didn’t see him, you just saw Joel. The way his eyes went wide, the way his face softened, the way a tension left his body. 

“Tommy!” He yelled, raising an arm, flagging him down. You followed his gaze and saw him, clambering down from some structure he was building. Joel jumped from his horse and ran, meeting him in the middle, both men holding each other tight. 

For half a second, the worries you had about what to do if you saw Tommy again were gone. It was Tommy. You wouldn’t ever be OK with what he did. You’d have to talk to him about it at some point but it was Tommy. Tommy, the guy who taught you how to light a grill. Tommy, the guy who made you laugh so hard that you shot Shiner out of your nose. Tommy, the man who had made it so you felt like you could do more than just survive without Joel. 

“Want to come with or stick with the horse?” You asked Ellie. 

“Think I’ll keep out of the family reunion,” she said, sounding a little wounded.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. “OK?” 

She nodded and you dismounted, coming up alongside Joel just as the two men broke apart. 

“Holy shit, Kid!” Tommy grabbed you and hugged you next, holding you close and tight. He still felt the same, even after years apart, he still felt like Tommy. 

“Hey Miller,” you laughed, choking up a bit. “You sure are a hard man to find.” 

“Yeah well, that’s kind of on purpose,” he laughed, releasing you. You stepped back and Joel put his arm around your waist. Tommy looked between you for a moment and smiled. “So you two finally got your shit together, eh?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel smiled, tugging you close. 

“Took you long enough,” Tommy shook his head a little, smiling at Joel. “About fuckin’ time.” 

A/N: TOMMY'S BACK! Yayayayayayayayayaya!

I'm excited to dive into some of these family dynamics in Jackson for the short time we're here - and dig into Joel and his growing anxieties.

Now that we're back into canon, please let me know how you're feeling about how canon integration is feeling (if you want to obvs, no pressure!) It's still an area I feel shaky on so notes are welcome :)

I have a taglist! If you'd like to be added, please comment below.

Thank you for reading! I hope you're still enjoying it as we come in on the tail end of the story here. I'm really excited for how things are going to go now that we're into this part of the canon and how it builds to the end of the story. Thanks for being here, for reading, for sharing, for commenting, for everything. Love you!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi @candypeaches16 @kittenlittle24 @wrappedinfiction @oatmeaiboy @pedritosdarling @winchestergypsy90 @imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1 @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @pedrosaidsheispunk @commanderawkward @n7cje @elliesgirlll @tsunamistorm123 @spookyxsam @leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae @fifia-writes @fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff

[jeridandridge]

Tricks and Treats

It’s spooky season baby! During baby Thanos’ reign of candy terror at Abbott, you manage to scare Jacob and win the Scarlett Witch’s attention. No Gary, fluff and all around ridiculousness.

Halloween was hands down your favorite holiday. Your house was the scariest, coolest decorated house on the block and you had candy ready to go. You decided on your costume in April and it had been easy to make. The night before, you’d texted Melissa a picture of you in your costume and all she said was hers was going to make you drool.

When you walk into work that morning you spot some of the group in the hall, your eyes going wide when you spot the red head.

“Damn we’re gonna have a battle up in here!” Ava smiles looking between you and Melissa.

“You know, there was some tension of the fruity variety between Wanda and Agatha.” Jacob starts, “if you look at the lore of Scarlett Witch she’s always been-“

“Okay, Jacob, thank you.” You stop him patting his shoulder.

So what if you and Melissa were accidentally in a couples costume? Marvel is popular.

“He’s rambling more than usual because of the ghost janitor.” Mr. Johnson chimes in.

You quirk a brow and cross your arms with a nod always willing to play along with a prank. “Oh yeah, I read about that guy while researching the school before I started.”

Melissa smirks shaking her head.

Jacob looks as white as a ghost himself as you play along.

“You’re kidding,” he laughs nervously. “You don’t believe in ghosts do you?”

“Absolutely I do. When I was in college there was a ghost in my dorm.” You start. “It would knock on the wall and sometimes even show up in the mirror.” You smile looping your arm with Melissa’s, leaving a terrified Jacob as you two start walking down the hallway.

“You’re gonna mess with the kid all day aren’t you?” She smirks playing with your sleeve.

You let out a laugh pulling your classroom key out of your pocket.

“I so am. Wanna cause a bit of trouble with me?” You grin playfully.

Melissa smiles with a shrug. “I’m your witch.”

Leave it to baby Thanos to cause chaos on Halloween. All hands are on deck moving around the school to keep the kids contained while looking for the candy their.

“Leave it to Ashley to make even Halloween difficult.” You roll your eyes moving around the halls in stealth mode. “This is really interfering with my scare the crap out of Jacob plan.”

“Don’t be so upset, hon. We’ll find the kid then scare the other one.”

As Melissa’s talking you spot two of the older kids coming down the hall.

“Hey, Clarence, William! C’mere.” You wave them over practically buzzing.

“Hey, Miss. y/n.” Clarence nods.

Looking around to make sure Jacob is no where to be found you lean forward a bit while Melissa keeps watch.

“Do you guys wanna help me scare Mr. Hill?”

“Oh man, Mr. C? What you want us to do?”

A couple minutes later you and make your way to the gym doors.

“It’s fun seeing you in prank mode.” She beams.

“It’s fun seeing you in that costume.” You grin keeping your eyes forward. You and Melissa had this flirty banter back and forth, always touchy in some way shape or form.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, hon. Purple suits you. I was excited when I saw that picture. We’re a great team.”

You take a breath and decide todays the day.

“Listen, what are you doing tonight? Because my place is decked out and I’m handing out candy to the gremlins. Would you wanna come do that and watch ridiculously cheesy movies with me?”

“You sure you don’t wanna get me all scared so you can cuddle me?” She smirks.

Before you can shoot back Jacob comes running down the hall.

“Woah, hamburgalar, relax.” You laugh.

“The janitor is mad at me the janitor is mad at me!” He repeats breathlessly.

“Slow down, kid. What are you talking about?” Melissa asks.

“The ghost janitor, he was in my classroom.” He takes a breath. “All the desks were stacked up like Poltergeist!”

You bite your lip hiding a smile. You’d have to give Clarence and William way more than five bucks each for that.

“Stacking the desks! Wooooow.” You draw out still holding in a laugh. “You know, Mr. Johnson will be able to help you.” You nod.

Jacob runs off and you can’t help but let out a laugh. “Okay, that was great. I didn’t even tell them to go that far.”

Melissa shakes her head with an adoring smile heading for the doors again.

“You’re my kinda woman. And yes, I’d love to watch cheesy horror movies with you later.”

[randomfanner]

So, some more thoughts for the Orin gets Tadpoled AU, notably her relations with the other party.

General Headcanons - uses the fact she is a shapeshifter to hide she is a doppelgänger because Shadowheart pointed out the fact she looks just a tad bit suspicious, however when she is around the party she doesn't bother. She does use these abilities to get around pretty effectively (such as transforming into a Drow to get past the goblins and other good skips like that) and will transform to fit in(she changes into a tiefling around the tiefling, human around the druids, etc)

Violence is an answer however other people in the party teach her there are other ways.... and when people like Gale and Shadowheart begin to give her praise for being more crafty and cunning with her way of dealing with problems, well, why wouldn't she do what they like?

Whenever the urge pops pop she is very loud about it. "I SHALL TRIM THAT MEAT STUB FOR YOU" "WAIT STOP HER P L E A S E" and someone(notably Shadowheart) is able to stop her from doing something stupid. She gets better control and has to deal with the urge in general less than the Durge. (Astarion pouts whenever she is stopped)

She uses nicknames for everyone.

Lae'zel (Wondrous Blood-soaked Warrior) - Other than the fact Orin is pretty openly unhinged they get along pretty damn well. Lae'zel admires how good Orin is at killing, Orin admires how good Lae'zel is at killing. Plus Orin very much enjoys when Lae'zel gives her praise. When they get to the Creche though, Orin is not having a good time and begins to have some flashbacks to the temple of Bhaal especially during the trainee scene and may be pretty reactive which does cause some problems for the two of them, but after things are finished there Orin does her best to comfort Lae'zel for losing her anchor.

Shadowheart (Beloved Cleric) - Shadowheart and Orin are amnesia buddies. I also feel Orin freed Shadowheart from the nautiloid because the more allies the less lonely the better! Shadowheart isn't sure what to make of this gremlin who borders on almost murder, and ends up being Orin's voice of reason most of the time. Now this is just for me, but Shadowheart x Orin romance. Goth GFs who have family issues (that family just being a fucking cult) and need to find a place to belong and sense of being, so why not do that together? Plus we see Orin's hair, she does it herself probably, Shadowheart and Orin braid train.

Gale (Wizard) - Orin nearly cuts Gale's hand off and is barely stopped by Shadowheart, so it is uh, a bit of a rocky relationship at first. However Gale is willing to forgive and keep an eye on their new unhinged doppelgänger friend. I do think Gale wants to study Orin because how often are you traveling with such an adept shapeshifter? Orin of course adores the attention and answers any questions she can and they end up bonding over that. Orin has no problem parting with magical trinkets for the wizard and wishes to fight Mystra herself. Orin also finds herself very much enjoying his cooking considering she can't remember ever having suck well made food in her entire life.

Astarion (Bloodsucker) - Orin ends up doing good things to get approval from the two people she met and bonded with first, thus Astarion being a bitch about it gets him a look of distain from Orin. Besides, Orin being a rogue he is not needed in the party. However Orin has no qualms about his wish for blood and he is free to fill his thirst whenever he wishes.... Plus Astarion does enjoy the fucking wild things Orin tends to say.

Wyll (Fiery Blade) - You know Wyll is a bit freaked out at first with Orin for well, obvious reasons however when it is clear she is going to cause... notably less problems then one might expect, they end up getting along pretty well. Orin I think would enjoy his dramatics and listening to stories and begins to take cues from him when weaving her own tales. When he teaches her how to dance it is quite fun and she may get a bit too into it, however I can only see them being bros mostly because Orin is still yelling about draining people dry.

Karlach (Heated Axe that cuts enemies like butter) - I think these two loons get along so fucking well, Orin will use Karlach as a spring board once her engine is fixed to dive bomb enemies well Karlach will slaughter them from the front. When Orin hears of this 'Gortash' she makes note that they shall split him and wear his enthralls as a wondrous scarf, which Karlach is totally behind. Orin also keeps bringing Karlach hearts because "if the issue is someone took yours, surely it can be replaced. I will find as many hearts as needed to fix your problem" (Orin is not ready for the fact Karlach is dying because the two of them are besties)

@bhaalstemple I think you need this.

[hunterbunter3000]

ok so I've had this in my memory for ages and i can so imagine Sweetheart having this as a tattoo on her back, like the angel wings tattoos that are the complete length of your back so and the crescent on her neck like oml like its barely visible from under her shirts and it just makes her neck look that much more delectable plus the contrast from the womb tattoo to the angel like wings is a sight to see, makes the boys go feral (especially soap once he sees it, he didn't notice before cuz he was too short lol)

IM GOING FERALLLLL

THIS IS AMAZING FOR SWEETS HOLY COW

The original idea was that she was going to have two pieces, high and low tattoos, the low one was something like this:

But then I scrapped that, and she was just gonna have a regular back tattoo (like a big one or one in the middle of her back), and it was gonna be something like this:

B U T that changed and the new idea was that the back tattoo was traveling on her body, like coming to her collarbone and neck, and coming down her arms (which is talked about in the 18+ Gaz ask), something like this:

BUT GOOODDDDDD YOURS IS SO SICK GREMLIN

Like I can see her getting it because a friend told her that it'll look so cool, not telling her what it means. (As you said, it looks like angel wings) and then that friend dies, not telling her the meaning. (Her friend told her to get it because Sweetheart is like an angel)

Sfw

(Just kinda sensual teehee)

Cw.: biblical talk (angels), so much praise, overstimulation (sweets cries), bit of angst and feels, (idk if this counts as angst? I'm still learning what's angst and what's not😭) soap is so down bad he's speaking in Scottish Gaelic-- it's translated by Google so I'm sorry beforehand! He talks so damn much, I went overboard 💀 the translation is at the end!

So skip ahead to the now, she's taking care of some wounds she got from a mission, with her shirt off and hair down, wrapping her ankle with concentrated eyes. She doesn't hear Soap knock on her door, and she doesn't hear his little gasp. She also doesn't hear him walk slowly towards her, but she does feel thick, warm fingers move some of her hair and trail down her back. She jolts, turning around abruptly. Her tense shoulders relax, seeing it's only her best friend.

She needs to be more vigilant.

"Jeez, Soap," She chuckles, "You scared me."

His eyes are wide, skin flushed with pink and breaths uneven.

"Tha mi duilich..." he mutters breathlessly. Sweetheart cocks an eyebrow. "Whatcha say?" Soap sucks in a breath and closes his eyes tightly. It's like he's telling himself something.

"Sorry, I'm - I said I'm sorry." Sweetheart nods, "Oh, that's cool! Is that like- Gaelic or somethin'?" Soap nods as if he's in a trance, eyes still focused on her back. Her glowing, hunched over back with the mark of an angel. It has to be. Different scars align on her skin, some in different lengths, some overlapping others, and many that are jagged.

But the beauty of the tattoo is still relevant.

Sweetheart calls out his name softly to get his attention but fails. His mind is hazy, and too many thoughts going through him. The waves of heat pulse on his skin and insides as he gets closer to her back.

Sweetheart doesn't feel comfortable, but she doesn't feel uncomfortable at the same time. She sees him get on his knees and reaches out for her, but freezes. He turns his head and shuts his eyes again, having mental turmoil with his actions. He stares into her eyes, asking her if he can touch it. Feel it.

Admire it.

Her eyes flutter, looking back at him one last time, she shifts her hair to one side, combing the curls with her hand, showing more of the tattoo that goes up to the nape of her neck and around her shoulders. Her actions speak a million words to him.

You can touch it. But please, be gentle.

She hears him whine- whine-- and his palms are clamping on her back immediately.

"Tha e cho breagha. Fuck, bidh thu mar bhàs dhomh, leanabh." His hand slides around to her tummy, tracing the heart to her womb tattoo since he remembers where it's located, engraved- burned-- into his memory. "Ach bheir thu air ais beò mi le seo," His voice is but a whisper over her back, the woman confused if he's talking to her or the tattoo. She feels plush lips where the blade is located. Oh god--

He's kissing it.

Sweetheart shivers, a whiny moan bubbling in her throat, but she covers her mouth with her shaky hand. She hears him mumble Gaelic again, but it doesn't feel like he's talking bad about it. It feels good, warm. Like he's praising it.

Worshipping it.

His other hand feels her skin all over her side, up her back till he reaches her shoulder. "Bha fios agam gu robh thu a 'falach rudeigin fo na turtlenecks sin, brèagha. Bha an corp seo an-còmhnaidh a’ falach rudeigin. Air do ghualainn," His fingers trail on the lines of the angel-like wings, "Air do ghualainn," They snake upwards and around, the pads feeling the bumps of scars and the outline of ink. "Suas do mhuineal."

Sweetheart whimpers, shivering under his touch. Her shoulders cave in, and she bends more forward. She feels his lips trail up her heated skin, wet with love and praise from the scotsman. She knew he loved her tattoos that she showed him, but she never thought he would do something like this.

Did he really like them that much? Did he really like her that much?

Soaps breath shudders on the halo, feeling her goosebumps form and hairs sticking up, hands raking up and down the spiked angel wings.

"Tha mi a’ guidhe nach do dh’fhalaich thu uam, a ghràidh. Tha gaol agam oirbh uile, agus chan atharraich sin gu bràth."

"I'm- I'm sorry...?" Why is she apologizing? She felt like she needed to apologize for something she did but didn't understand what he said. She was going to speak again, but the gentle lull of his shushing in her ear stopped her.

"Òr 's a tha mise air do chràdh agus an dubh a tha air do chorp naomh. Tha am peant dubh maireannach a th’ agad a’ toirt ort coimhead ethereal. Fuck, chan eil fhios agam carson a tha thu a’ còmhdach seo. Bidh thu a’ faighinn cho togarrach rium a h-uile uair a thig thu faisg orm, agus a bhith faicinn an ealain a th’ agad air do bhodhaig na urram ann fhèin. Tha do bhòidhchead tarraingeach, aingil. Chan eil fios agad dè an ìre de chumhachd a tha agad thairis air na fir a tha a 'coiseachd air an talamh seo."

If he keeps going, she's gonna pass out at this rate.

His growly, Scottish drawl always made Sweetheart heat up and melt. But this - this carnal, whispering preaching onto her skin - it's too much, overflowing her cup to the point that it spills all over the floor.

"Mar a chuirinn seachad mo làithean uile ag innse dhut mar a tha thu mar thiodhlac bho na nèamhan. Cha bhithinn leisg a dhol air mo ghlùinean agus mo dhìlseachd gu lèir a thoirt dhut a h-uile latha." He mumbles, lips talking against her skin like he's muttering scriptures to the ink.

With his blue eyes half-lidded, his hands slide down her shoulder blades and back up, his touch so gentle like feathers and silk, down to the small of her back, where the blade ends.

"Tha mi a’ guidhe nach do dh’fhalaich thu uam, a ghràidh. Tha gaol agam oirbh uile, agus chan atharraich sin gu bràth."

"Johnny..." Sweetheart calls out, mysterious want laced in her voice. She doesn't know why he acts like her tattoos are sacred. She doesn't know why she feels tears forming. Her eyes flutter back when his thumbs massage her hips.

He hums, "An ann air sgàth sin a fhuair thu seo? A chionn gu bheil thu bho na nèamhan? Tha e ciallach nam biodh tu. Archangel, a 'stiùireadh shaighdearan gu cogadh le do bhall-airm, ceannardas, agus làmh an uachdair."

Her breath hitches. Archangel?

Why did he say that?

He thinks she's an angel? One of the heavenly hosts, a dispenser of justice and bringer of hope.

Oh my God.

If he thinks that she's like an archangel, then that's the best compliment she has ever gotten.

She feels tears coming down her cheeks, the heavy feeling in her head and warmth coursing through her veins. She remembers when her old high school friend from home told her to get this piece as a tattoo since she had trouble figuring out what to get. She was so excited, kept asking her every day what it meant or what significance it had with Sweetheart, but all she kept saying was, "You'll figure it out."

Sweetheart asked sporadically when her friend was in the hospital. Her answer was always the same.

Sweetheart stopped asking completely when her friend was buried next to her family. She didn't give an answer anymore.

She covers her mouth again to stop a choked sob, tears streaming down her face.

Her friend knew.

"Fiù 's nuair a tha thu air do dhòrtadh ann am fuil an nàmhaid, tha thu fhathast a' seasamh àrd ann an neart, misneachail, nad ghlòir gu lèir. A ’coimhead thairis air a h-uile duine, a’ cuideachadh neach sam bith ann an fheum leis a ’ghàire radanta sin."

Soap knows.

"Ged nach fhaicear do sgiathan, bidh iad fhathast a 'deàrrsadh fon t-solas a tha a' gluasad bho do shàil. An dòchas agus an gaol a bheir thu do dhaoine ... bheir e orm tuiteam air do shon eadhon nas motha a h-uile uair."

And now Sweetheart knows.

He kisses her shoulders, neck, and spine- all the way down to the tip of the blade. He could kiss this skin forever, hearing her soft moans and whimpers. Soap hears her little hiccups and moves to face her. He tenderly cups her jaw and slowly lifts, seeing her big, glistening eyes look up at him. Her damp cheeks, creased eyebrows, and wobbling bottom lip melts his heart. He looks at her with such fondness and love in his eyes, Sweetheart is sure that she will pass away. He brushes her hair out of her face as if she's made out of the finest china.

"Oh, mo ghràidh, mo leannan."

He cranes his neck down, soft swollen lips meeting her forehead. Sweetheart's eyes close, clumped with tears, leaning into his kiss and clutching his hand.

"Mo aingeal dìon."

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

Translation:

It's so beautiful. Fuck, you'll be the death of me, baby. But you'll bring me back to life with this. I knew you were hiding something under those turtlenecks, beautiful. This body was always hiding something. On your shoulders... Up your neck. I wish you didn't hide from me, my love. I love you all, and that will never change.

You have nothing to apologize for, my darling, my heart. Words can not describe how much I ache for you and the ink that's on your holy body. The black permanent paint you have makes you look ethereal. Fuck, I don't know why you cover this. You get me so excited every time you come near me, and to see the art you have on your body is an honor in itself. Your beauty is alluring, angelic. You don't know how much power you hold over the men that walk this earth.

How I would spend all my days telling you how you're a gift from the heavens. I would not hesitate to get on my knees and give my devotion to you every day.

Hmm, is that why you got this? Because you're from the heavens? It makes sense if you were. An archangel, guiding soldiers into war with your weapon, leadership, and dominant hand.

Even when drenched in the enemy's blood, you still stand tall in strength, confident, in all your pretty glory. Watching over everyone, helping anyone in need with that radiant smile.

Even though your wings are not seen, they still shine under the light that radiates from your halo. The hope and love you give people... it makes me fall for you even more every time.

My dear, my sweetheart.

My guardian angel.

Bonus.!

Bruh, I totally blocked out the others HAHA

They haven't seen it yet, but Soap boasts about it 24/7. He described it the best he can without giving anything away. But he talks consistently that he saw it and he touched it and-- other stuff.

He doesn't tell his team that he practically went to church on her back tattoo, but he sees how jealous they got so that's good enough for him. Thank God Krueger doesn't know.

[autisticlancemcclain]

For the last six months, Lance has been acting strange. It sounds like a long time, and maybe something Hunk should have brought up earlier, but he wasn’t sure enough to bring it up for a while — he’s sure now, though. Lance used to send Hunk fifty memes a night for Hunk to scroll through in the mornings, now it’s a rare day he gets even one. He used to get regular calls and facetimes from Lance about every little inconvenience Lance experienced, but now he’s lucky to hear Lance’s voice once a week. And he’s almost never available to hang out anymore.

“What I’m hearing is that you are getting a break, and what I’m not understanding is why you’re complaining about it,” Pidge says.

Hunk glances away from the dirt road he’s squinting at (country driving is hard, especially as the sun starts to set, why couldn’t Lance stay in the city like the rest of them), to roll his eyes at her.

“Oh, don’t give me that. You miss him too. It’s like he’s been replaced by a pod person!”

Hunk doesn’t know if it’s the conspiracy theory tease or if it’s because Pidge misses Lance more than he thought, but she deflates rather quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. It’s a little strange that we haven’t heard much from him. But,” she bites her lip, looking away from her phone for once, “are we sure he’s not just grieving? I mean, he’s become a bit of a hermit ever since his Abuela left him her cabin in the woods. His tree-hugging ass never wants to leave. And I imagine he misses her, too. Is he maybe just trying to grieve in peace?”

“That’s a valid point,” Hunk concedes, “but I don’t think that’s it. Abuela died a year ago. He still misses her, shit, but if anything he’s even more clingy when he’s upset. And he just started pulling away a few months ago, so I don’t think it’s the death. It’s weird. He’s never been like this.”

“I mean, Lance is just kind of a weirdo,” Pidge says, because she and Lance have this weird relationship where they refuse to admit they love each other even though Hunk has seen both of them mope for days after a fight or argument. (But whatever works for them Hunk supposes.) “You’re right though, I guess. He hasn’t sent me a picture of an angry possum with the caption ‘this is u’ in a while, which is kind of concerning.”

“…Is that a regular occurrence?”

Hunk breaks concentration from the road again, looking at her strangely. She barely notices, attention back on her phone as she waves her hand dismissively.

“Oh, yeah. He sends a mocking picture whenever he sees a particularly gremlin-esque animal, I seen him one whenever I see a rat.”

“Pidge, you live in Queens. You see a rat twelve times a day.”

Pidge sniggers. “Yeah, and it’s funny every time. He gets all pissy.”

Hunk just sighs, shaking his head fondly. He will never understand their relationship.

———

Hunk has visited Lance at his new home a handful of times since he inherited it. He always, always has the porch light on (he says it’s in case someone were to get lost in the woods at night, they’d be able to see the light and come to him. Hunk has tried to explain to him dozens of times that that is an excellent way to get serial murdered, but damn Lance’s bleeding heart because Hunk’s worry does nothing).

There’s no porch light on now.

“Maybe he finally just started listening to you?” Pidge suggests.

Hunk levels her with a flat stare. “We have been friends for over fifteen years, Pidge. When, even once in that time, has Lance listened to a damn word I said about safety?”

Pidge shrugs. “Who knows! Maybe his newfound hermit lifestyle has made him wise.”

“Right,” Hunk says, snorting. He takes another moment to stare suspiciously at the dark house, and then sighs in defeat.

“I guess we should go in, huh?”

“I did not drive six hours through rural New York to turn the fuck around, Hunk. We are staying with Lance for the weekend if we have to break in through the goddamn window, and I mean that.”

Hunk doesn’t doubt it — Pidge hates long car rides, and only agreed to come up here in the first place because she misses Lance way more than she’ll ever admit, now that he’s not a two minute walk away.

“Desperate to spend some time with him?” Hunk teases, walking up to the door.

“Piss off,” Pidge snaps, but there’s not nearly enough heat in her voice for Hunk to take her seriously. (Hunk has heard her when she’s truly mad, threatening random cat-callers in the street. It is a terrifying thing to witness, which makes Hunk glad he’s on her side.)

She reaches forward to knock on the door — another proof that she very much does miss Lance, being the first to knock, which makes Hunk smirk — and then steps back next to Hunk to wait.

They stand there for two whole minutes.

“Is he maybe asleep?” Hunk asks, but dismisses it just as quickly as Pidge does.

“That loser never sleeps before, like, 3 in the morning.”

“Maybe the ambiance of the woods has made it easier for him to sleep,” Hunk says, just to be contrary.

Pidge snorts, knocking one more time and then moving shit around on the porch.

“The hell are you doing?” Hunk asks as she lifts the dorky little wicker chair Hunk knows Lance made himself in his basket weaving phase.

Mostly ignoring him, she flips the chair completely over and starts inspecting the legs.

“If I can just… ha!”

She sets the chair down, and triumphantly holds up a key.

“Lance is the most predictable bitch in these lands,” she brags, which Hunk thinks is rich coming from the girl who has lost every board game against Lance she has every played.

He tells her as much. She scowls.

“He cheats,” she insists, which is probably true, but she also cheats and still loses, so.

Hunk decides to drop it, because he likes his kneecaps exactly how they are, thanks, and Pidge has a violence problem.

“Hello? Dork ass?” Pidge calls as they walk in, which is as much of a greeting as any.

The entrance hallway is dark, as is most of the visible rooms. The only light comes from some faintly twinkling fairy lights Lance has strung up around various walls.

“Whose boots are those?” Pidge asks, staring at something right next to the front door.

Hunk peeks over her shoulder, squinting to try and make them out. It’s hard to see well in the low light, but there’s a pair of big, clunky combat boots next to Lance’s dorky retro sneakers.

“Maybe he’s got a friend over?”

“His car is the only one in the driveway,” Pidge points out, which is true.

Hunk shrugs. “Maybe he picked them up.”

Pidge huffs, still suspicious, and starts poking around the living room and kitchen instead of looking for Lance.

Well. Hunk is doing that too, so he can’t really judge. (It’s been so long since he’s had real Lance drama, okay? Sue him if he’s curious.)

“There is healthy food in the fridge,” Pidge says, in the same tone of voice someone might say ‘there’s a nuclear bomb in my toothbrush.’

Hunk blinks. He rubs his ears, he must have misheard her.

“Oh my God, there’s meat!”

Now he’s definitely misheard her, because Lance has been vegetarian since he was four and found out the pollo the feathered little animal was the same pollo in his happy meal.

Hunk scrambles over to where Pidge is starting incredulously at the open fridge, and his own jaw drops when he sees it: a gigantic steak, chilling on the second shelf, waiting to be cooked.

“Maybe he really has been replaced by a pod person,” Pidge breathes.

She’s started to sound nervous, for all her joking.

“Let’s go find him,” Hunk says, and he can’t hide the urgency in his voice. They both rush down the hallway, wordlessly agreeing to be as silent as possible. They pause before Lance’s bedroom door, exchanging a determined look. Pidge nods, and Hunk carefully turns the doorknob, soundlessly pushing the door open.

It’s dark. The only light comes from the moonlight pouring through the open window, and the small shark-shaped nightlight on the desk. Despite the brightness of the moon, the only thing really visible are shadows and figures.

The lump on the bed, wrapped in the covers, is far too big to be Lance.

Hunk hears Pidge’s sharp intake of breath, and is strangely reminded of the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. They’re both silent for a moment, tense as live wires, and then the large lump in the bed lets out what Hunk can only describe as a muted growl.

Pidge whimpers. The smallest of sounds. Barely a peep. But before Hunk has the chance to throw his hand over her mouth, the lump in the bed shoots straight up, and then both of them are screaming as glowing yellow eyes narrow and shining, razor-sharp teeth are bared in a snarl.

Hunk squeezes his eyes shut as the monster in Lance’s bed flicks his hand and a blade shines in the moonlight, extended at both of them as the monster is out of the bed in an instant.

“I am too young to die,” Hunk sobs over Pidge’s incessant screaming. He wonders if the monster ate Lance quickly, or if his own death is about to be slow.

It all makes sense now.

“Hunk? Pidge?”

Well, that doesn’t make sense.

Hunk opens his eyes just as the lights flip on, and sees Lance — he’s alive! — scramble out of bed and in front of the monster.

Right fucking in front of the monster. Zero space between them.

God, where is Lance’s brain?!

“Keith! Chill out. Put the luxite blade away. It’s fine, okay? They’re not a threat. No threat here. That’s it, babe. Take a deep breath. Put the fangs away, there you go.”

Hunk stares in shocked silence.

He thinks his jaw might be brushing the wooden floorboards.

“Pidge, stop screaming,” Lance says irritably, turning around to face the two of them. “You’re freaking everybody out.”

Pidge, predictably, does not stop screaming.

“No! I was just threatened by a real-life monster! A monster, Lance, what the fuck!”

“He has a name and it’s Keith,” Lance snaps. “And no shit you were threatened, you broke into our house.”

“And you’re fucking naked! Both of you!” Pidge continues — somehow more shrill — as if Lance had not spoken.

That wipes the fury right off Lance’s face.

“Out!” he yells, frantically yanking a blanket off the bed and throwing it over him and — and the monster that he knows on a first-name basis, apparently. “Get out! Right now!”

“I’m not leaving you with that!” Hunk argues, finally finding his voice.

He means it. Lance is bad at looking out for himself, and that thing is very obviously bloodthirsty.

“Get out of my room right fucking now, or the most bloodthirsty thing in the room is about to be me!”

Hunk’s not sure if it’s because Lance sounds deadly serious or because the terror of the whole situation is starting to fade into something like shock, but without another word, he turns away and walks out of the room. Pidge follows, closing the door behind her. The walk over to the living room, sitting gingerly on the couch.

Moments later, Lance stumbles out of the room in a robe, the monster following closely behind him.

“Stop looking at him like that,” Lance snaps, which Hunk thinks is unfair.

“Explain immediately,” Hunk says instead of voicing that particular thought.

“I’ll make some tea,” the monster says quietly, pressing a kiss to Lance’s cheek.

Hunk startles.

Well.

The monster can speak English, apparently.

Lance sighs, looking gratefully at the monster and squeezing its hand.

“Thanks, babe.”

And apparently Lance is — sleeping with the monster?

“That is the least surprising thing about this whole thing,” Pidge mutters, which is an astute observation based on Lance’s track record.

(Venom is not a good enough movie to watch 47 times. No one does that without Gay Reasons.)

Lance sits heavily on the loveseat, staring at them warily. “Why are you here?”

“Hi, Lance,” Hunk says sarcastically. “We’ve hardly talked to you in half a year, and it’s basically been radio silence from your end. Yes, I’m doing well, thanks for asking. I did miss you, too.”

Lance glares at him for a moment, but then he slumps forward.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been…busy.”

Pidge, who has recovered remarkably quickly, snickers. She looks pointedly at Lance’s collarbones, which are littered with bruises and bites. He flushes immediately, pulling his robe tighter around himself and hugging a pillow to his chest for good measure.

“I can see that,” Pidge teases. “And from what I saw from Mister Tall Purple and Furry, which is unfortunately burned into my brain for all eternity, I imagine sitting in a car for six hours to come see us would be…difficult.”

Despite himself, Hunk laughs. It helps that Lance looks more flustered and annoyed than angry, now.

“Fuck off,” he says, shoving his face into the pillow. “God, you people are horrible.”

Suddenly a new voice filters through the room, a gruff chuckle making Pidge and Hunk sit up straight, looking at each other nervously. Hunk almost forgot his terror.

“Why are you laughing, you douchebag?” Lance says, begrudgingly accepting the offered mug. The monster says nothing, only smiling fondly — well, Hunk is having trouble looking at the fangs peeking out of that smile and thinking fond, but it certainly doesn’t look malicious — and sets two more cups on the coffee table, and then takes his seat next to Lance.

Like, right next to Lance. Any closer and he’ll be sitting on Lance, and he’s thrown his arm over the back of the loveseat for good measure.

“I’m Keith,” the monster says when Lance fails to explain himself. “I’m not from here.”

That is a gross oversimplification.

“Try again,” Hunk says flatly, and he wasn’t trying to be funny, but the monster — Keith — laughs anyway.

“I’m sorry for threatening you,” he offers. “I was shot out of the sky by the government a while back, so I’m a little paranoid.”

Pidge looks intrigued. “Tell me every single detail about that story and you’re forgiven.”

Hunk scoffs. “Speak for yourself.” But he reaches forward and grabs the mug Keith placed in front of him as a show of trust, anyway, because Lance has lifted his face from the pillow of shame to glare at him and Hunk always feels like shit when Lance is mad at him.

Keith looks hesitantly at Lance. “Is it…?”

“They’re safe,” Lance says with a sigh. He reaches for one of Keith’s hands and starts fiddling with it — a nervous stim.

Now Hunk really starts to feel guilty.

“Okay,” Keith says, only a little reluctantly. It certainly says something that he’s so willing to trust them just because Lance said he could, even though twenty minutes ago he looked ready to stick a sword in their heads. “Uh, I was born on a planet called Daibazaal, about three hundred million light years from here. Earth is well known among the Intergalactic Union as a danger planet populated by gigantic, monstrous lizards.” He grins wryly. “Obviously, that information is pretty outdated.”

“Why’d you come here, then?” Pidge asks, eyes bright in excitement. If she leans forward anymore she’ll fall right off the couch. Nerd.

“My father is human,” Keith says nonchalantly, as if that’s not the most insane thing to have ever been spoken in this timeline. “He was a Texan physicist. He was messing around with things he shouldn’t have been messing in and accidentally wormholed himself across the galaxy, and decided he liked it there, so he stayed. He never told anyone about Earth because he figured if anyone tried to come here it would be mayhem —”

Hunk inclines his head, thinking of his own (possibly) over-the-top reaction. “Fair.”

“—but I grew up hearing stories about it here, so I wanted to come see for myself. It took me a few years because y’all don’t have transporters anywhere near, but I got here eventually.”

Hunk glances at his best friend, who has yet to stop playing with Keith’s fingers and won’t look at them. “I promise I am not being a dick,” he starts, which in hindsight could have been phrased better based on Lance’s scowl, “but why are you here? Like, Lance’s house specifically? And why hasn’t he told us about you?”

Luckily Lance laughs, looking a little more at ease. “He’s here because his father only told him about the Earth he knew decades ago. He was shot out of the sky the second he appeared on government scanners. He crash landed in one of the forests around here, and eventually made it to my door one night because he saw my porch light on and figured hostile shelter was better than no shelter. Luckily, I am not hostile shelter.”

The irony is not lost on Hunk.

“And did you jump his bones the second you saw the claws, or did you wait a week?” Pidge asks, grinning evilly.

Lance goes red again.

“He was injured!” Lance says hotly. “My first thought was to help him!”

“So it’s a Florence Nightingale situation,” Hunk says, smiling just as sharply.

Lance sees the tease for the apology it is.

“You’re a jerk,” he says, pouting. “Nobody in this household loves me.”

“I do,” Keith says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to say.

Lance softens like a goddamn block of spilled ice cream on pavement during a summer heatwave. Holy shit. It’s so saccharine it’s honestly a little gross (not really).

“As much as I have decided to be happy for you, Lance, if you two start making out I am going to throw things at you.”

Lance rolls his eyes, but settles for a quick, chaste kiss.

“Alright, you prude. I assume you two broke into my house with the intention to stay for the weekend?”

“Yep!” Pidge says, completely ignoring the dig. “And you are no sooner making me drive the six fucking hours back to the city than fly to the moon, so point me in the direction of the nearest bed. I’ll make fun of you more in the morning.”

“You mean the late afternoon, you lazy dog,” Lance teases, but gets up anyway. He presses another kiss to Keith’s lips as he gets up. “I’ll meet you in a few, okay?”

“Alright,” Keith says, and then he says something else in a language Hunk doesn’t understand that makes Lance all moon-eyed before heading back to Lance’s — to their bedroom.

“I’ll get you guys some fresh sheets and whatever,” Lance says, waving them over. “And then none of you are to bother me until I leave. If you walk in on us again and get scarred for life that will not be my problem.”

Pidge and Hunk look at each other before looking away in disgust.

“Understood,” they say immediately.

Lance grins.

———

part two

[airas-story]

Zero Stars

“How would you rate your pain?” Stephen asked quietly, trying to focus past the ill feeling in his chest. Tony was leaned against a wall while bleeding from several slashes in his side, his eyes screwed up in pain. Damn wraiths.

“Zero stars,” Tony told him, sending him what was probably meant to be a cheeky grin. It was rather ruined by the grimace of pain that won the battle of facial expressions. “Would not recommend.”

Stephen didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, scream, or smack Tony upside the head. None of them felt like particularly appropriate reactions to the situation, though. “Zero to ten, Tony. How bad is it?”

Tony winced, gaze darting to look at anything but Stephen. “Four.”

And since Tony had a very flawed view of what constituted pain, Stephen could easily add several levels to that.

Stephen bit his lip, turning his eyes back to the claw marks in Tony’s side. Tony hadn’t been in his suit when he’d been attacked, and while he’d managed to handle himself fairly well, all told, the wraiths had still gotten a good few hits in.

Tony was lucky he wasn’t dead.

He could tell that Tony was trying to clear the pain from his face. “Stephen, sweetheart—“ It was always a bad sign when Tony pulled out ‘sweetheart’, ”—I’m going to be fine. I promise. You’ll badger Christine on her day off, I’ll be a terrible patient, you’ll hover and do that annoying ‘backseat doctor’ thing you do, Christine will give you the murder eye, and despite all that, she’ll patch me up just fine and I’ll be complaining about red-eyed shadow creatures—“

“Wraiths,” Stephen supplied.

“—And driving you insane within days.”

“You never could,” Stephen said quietly.

Tony’s lip tilted up in a pained smile. “Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t stop me from giving it my best shot. You know, before you, I was pretty sure I could irritate anyone into leaving me alone.”

“I’m too persistent for that,” Stephen acknowledged. Some of his tension was battling to release itself, soothed by Tony’s assurances.

Most of it was held stringently in place by the fact that Tony had been attacked because of his connection to Stephen. That Stephen had been the one to endanger Tony, that Tony was hurt because of him.

“Stephen.” Tony took his hand. “Stop. I’m going to be fine. Those little black gremlins—“

“Wraiths.” 

”—would have attacked someone, they didn’t need outside motivation for that. Maybe they chose me because of you, but the violence was already there. Better me than someone else.” Tony met his gaze. “And maybe you’d have chosen yourself instead, but that just proves me right. Better us than some civilians.”

Stephen wondered what it said about him that, yes, he’d choose for Tony to get attacked over someone innocent when he claimed to love Tony.

But then, Tony felt the same.

Yes, they’d both choose to take the pain themselves, but when that wasn’t an option, they’d hand that pain to each other before they’d ever risk anyone else.

Maybe it was messed up. Maybe it was who they were. Maybe it was simply how it had to be.

“But seriously,” Tony said, interrupting Stephen’s thoughts. “Zero stars. So get me to Christine already so I can get over this.”

[juvenillia]

~Just an idea~

Okay, that‘s gonna be my brainrot for Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader and maybe I’ll turn it into a fic / chapter collection

Update: started the fic read here

Disclaimer: I literally have barely an idea about the actual cod lore, English isn't my first language

A/N: I’m just a needy gremlin for this man and my weakness is damn slow burn enemies to lovers, but with Simon it wouldn’t be a direct way from strangers to lovers, it would be the whole way from strangers, to kinda enemies, to comrades, to friends and after a bloody long time it would become more and they eventually find their peace together. Also, if I'm gonna turn it into a series, it's gonna be more oc related because I want to give her a full-on past and stuff. Hope that would be okay.

Should I make it a series?

Simon Ghost Riley who hated change, especially when there was a change within the team. It took him already so much effort, nerves, and time to get along with his current teammates, so why did they need another one? A new teammate he needed to learn to read, and much more, to fully trust.

Simon Ghost Riley who literally had not enough mental energy to get through another whole “get to know” progress, keeping up with Soap and Gaz costed him enough energy. Don’t get him wrong, he would immediately jump to catch a bullet for either of them, but they still were a pain in his ass.

Simon Ghost Riley who gets reminded by his captain that the 141 is more than a team, and just like a family, the team will also grow. So, he had no choice than accepting his new teammate.

Simon Ghost Riley who learns that he literally despises you, because he simply is unable to predict you. You’re too much at ease. You’re too caring. Your switching moods are the reasons of his headaches. Your way of thinking during missions is too unconventional. And you’re – just like him – closing everyone off from your private life.

Simon Ghost Riley who maybe learns to respect you. The despise slowly melting into a friendly relationship between comrades. Watching with a soft gaze how Soap, you and Gaz are chatting in the common room about everything under the sun. Listening attentive to your words during a briefing. Smiling even the slightest under his balaclava when you put some of the new recruits in line.

Simon Ghost Riley who can read your “on mission persona” perfectly. Working in tandem with little hand signs, the smallest amount of an eyesight. Growing to have a flow together. Enemies beware.

Simon Ghost Riley who starts to believe, that he could trust you. That all the effort would be worthy to really get to know you, and he is shocked that for once, he wants to learn about a person. At the same time, he’s scared, scared of making himself too vulnerable because of you.

Simon Ghost Riley who starts to enjoy your company, maybe a bit too much. Either on missions or just at the base. A comforting silence between the soft talks you share. Sitting next to each other while smoking in silence. Sharing a late-night cup of tea. Making cocky and flirty comments, but of course only jokingly. ONLY jokingly of course. He reminds himself.

Simon Ghost Riley who looks into a mirror when staring into your eyes. He sees your scars, your pain, and still, they look back at him soft and calm. He has only one thing on his mind: Maybe, just maybe this once

Simon Ghost Riley who holds on to your body when injured on the battlefield. Cutting out the heartbroken yells from Johnny while he carries you to the medevac and whispers in your ears to stay with him.

Simon Ghost Riley who would never admit it but grew way too attached to you.

Simon Ghost Riley who had no idea that his fate was sealed the day you walked into the common room to introduce yourself to the 141.

Simon Ghost Riley who cursed himself for all his thoughts that kept him awake late at night, because all those thoughts were only circling around you.

[ladysisyphus]

Okay! Now that we have finished it, I would like to take this moment to recommend the Chinese drama The Disguiser.

It is a must-watch if you liked Nirvana in Fire, because of course it's the same director and a significant chunk of that same cast, except all playing significantly different roles with different dynamics.

For normal people, you should give it a go if you like:

spies

suits

spies in suits

the amazing east-meets-west aesthetic of late 1930s Shanghai

international incidents

acknowledgements that non-marriage-trajectory relationships can still be important and intimate

minimal unfounded valorization of heterosexuality (like, I can't really explain this one without spoilers, but trust me)

but when the heterosexuality happens, it's cute? so you can't really begrudge it for happening

pretty men getting tortured horrifically

some amazing female villains, like seriously, most of the main bad guys are ladies and they're powerhouses

transparently hilarious try-hard patriotic shit

the inherent eroticism of having someone who loves you shoot you with a sniper rifle

did I mention the suits? because damn

an ending that is satisfying and not relentlessly, senselessly tragic

For perverts, let me sell the show to you like this:

大姐. Elegant and terrifying. Will make you kneel and hit you with a flogger, but only because she loves you. Mommy? Sorry. (Not sorry.)

大哥. Executive homosexual. Will bend you over a bench and paddle you in the foyer, but only because da jie told him to.

弟弟. Should not, from what I understand of the book (and the musical???), be the main character, except he's Hu Ge, so of course he's the main character. Spoiled little gremlin. Everybody's baby. Has a real weird daddy thing going with a very bad man, if you're into that. Bisexual slut powers activated, but only patriotically.

弟弟 #2. Adopted when he was ten. Just like a member of the family except when he's not. Faithful right hand and subordinate of da ge, whom he tops so hard. (But seriously, they're in love.) (No, really. They're basically married.) (I sense the source material has him a little saltier about his station in life, but in the show, he never shows an inkling of being anything but perfectly content doing what he does.) Sultry baritone. Will hold you down so da ge can spank you.

And I'm going to say that pervert shit runs strong throughout what little fandom there is, at least as AO3 would have it:

Which is what happens if you include everything tagged for the Disguiser. If you filter it by English-language works only...

And some of those that say they're in English aren't even in English! They're just pretending to be in English! What I'm saying is, if you feel like making kinky things for a bitty little fandom, this is the place.

Now! If I've sold you on it, here is how to watch it:

Option 1: KissAsian. Upside: Subtitled by the same Viki team that did the Nirvana in Fire subtitles, so they're absolutely readable and like 98% comprehensible. Downside: Slightly sketchy site.

Option 2: YouTube. Upside: It's YouTube; different translation that's also perfectly okay; hardcoded Chinese subs. Downside: Whoever formatted the hardcoded English subs did not put anything behind the plain white text, so any time the English text appears over a bright background (which is curiously often), the words disappear.

Also there's a musical??? that came out in 2021????? If I find a link to a full production of that, I'll come back here and update. The clips I've seen of it look great, though.

Look, this is not a show for everyone. It's got some gore and torture and onscreen injury that's pretty disturbing. It portrays the truly awful realities of Japanese occupation of China during this period. The rah-rah communism! bits are at best hokey and at worst distasteful. It can be slow at times and way too condensed at others. If you're not familiar with this period of history, it's tough to keep track of all the various resistance factions. Because of the spycraft and double-agent business, it can be legitimately tricky to remember who's lying to whom about what at any given moment.

Nonetheless, pervert shit aside, it's a solid story about a complicated quartet of siblings who love and also injure one another, and all the people who love/hate them. There are plenty of genuinely tense moments. The hairstyling and costuming are perfectly on point. The actors turn in some stellar performances. As I alluded to in my bullet points, it has an ending that includes some tragic elements, but not so many that it'll sink all your ships and ruin your day. And I tell you what, this show is legitimately horny for everyone in this car:

So if you watch it, let me know what you think!