#bushman's friend

[thiswillnotdo]

2022_11_06

[therealraewest]

Jake Lockley did not single handedly claw their way back from Marc's mad dog days just for Marc to brand him as "the violent/unpredictable one"

[donospl]

Co w jazzie piszczy [sezon 1 odcinek 23]

premierowa emisja 11 października 2023 – 18:00 Graliśmy: Matthew Shipp “Essence of Silence” z albumu “The Intrinsic Nature of Shipp” – Mahakala Music Matthew Shipp Trio “Circular Temple #3” z albumu “Circular Temple” Shuteen Erdenebaatar “Olden Days” z albumu “Rising Sun” – Motema Music Maddie Vogler “While We Have Time” z albumu  “While We Have Time” – Origin Records AKKU Quintet “Kinema”…

[tarjapearce]

Strawberry Jam (Pt.2) +18

DadBestfriendAu!Miguel x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT, Breeding kink, Body Marking, Rough sex, mentions of Exhibitionism, fluff, daily situations.

Pt. 3

Ever since your dad knew about you and Miguel, things at home were tense for a while. You always had to meet up Miguel either at his home or he picked you up.

At first, your dad gave you both the silent treatment, but seeing Miguel trying to be a good man for you, chipped away the anger. He never stayed during the nights and always visited you during the 'appropriate' mingling hours.

He always got you flowers at every chance he got, and always respected your boundaries. And then, you met Gabriela. The child was sweet and polite, yet sharp and quite the observer.

At first, your relationship with her consisted in her making questions, such as "You like my dad alot?" "What do you like the most about him?" and a bold one "Dad knows when someone is for the money. But so far you seem cool enough."

Gabriela was smart, perceptive and of course a daddy's little girl. You were worried that things with her wouldn't work out. Something you had told Miguel, once you reached the three month dating milestone.

Despite the stress, one of the biggest achievements in your life approached, your college graduation. Two more months to go and you'd be free from college.

Miguel had taken you to a new, lovely and expensive looking restaurant to have a private celebration, previous to your graduation. Miguel had asked you about Gabriela, and how the kid secretly admitted to him that, ever since you got into his life, he seemed more at ease, more of a cool dad. Happier even.

Some people around you stared as you both kissed. Of course you were aware of the snide comments done around you whenever you were with Miguel. Mostly accusing you for being a gold digger, or being manipulative enough to make Miguel your personal sugar daddy.

But to Miguel, you were none of that. And he made sure to always remind you what you meant for him.

------

With the graduation around the corner, two days actually, your dad finally just accepted the fact you were dating his best friend. Still he was squeamish about you being alone with Miguel while he was gone out of business, but so far he had kept his promise to not knock you up, despite Miguel's discontent.

"So... whatcha gonna do once you've graduated, cupcake?" He ate his dinner as he sat across you. It was just the two of you.

"Well, my career coordinator landed me a spot in Alchemax."

"Oh really? Where?"

"In the Informatics department, as Dr. Bushman's assistant."

"Does Miguel know?"

"Not yet. I wanna surprise him."

"Hm."

Your dad sighed and looked at you, with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You really like Miguel, sweetie?"

"Of course. I mean... He's the best man I could ever had asked for. He knows what he wants, and so do I."

"I'm just a bit concerned on how you'd manage to... be a mother to Gabriela at such young age"

"I know it's gonna be hard, and that she might get some time to get used to it as well, but, I told her that I wanna be someone she can trust, besides Miguel, someone she can come home to and just tell her how much an amazing kid she is, because it's true." You sighed and looked at him.

"I had none of that growing up, because of mom's doings. And if it wasn't for you, sometimes I wonder what kind of person I would've turned out. But... that's why I've decided to break the cycle and be that figure to Gabriela. She's just... so sweet dad. And Imma do my best. For her, and for Miguel."

"Would you marry Miguel?"

The question sending a bright flush on your cheeks.

"W-We haven't spoken about that. I mean, we've been only dating for five months now."

"Still, would you?"

"I would, yeah. He's too much of a good man to just let someone else that wouldn't treat him the way he deserves, get him, ya know?"

"You love him?"

"Yes. And I don't know if it's wrong to feel such intensity in such little time. Just hope he feels that way too."

"Ah, cupcake. Miguel doesn't let anyone into his life so easily. It took me almost two years for him to get to trust me. And look at you. You're already having play dates with his daughter, and doing great with him, he's really attentive and wants the best for you as well. If that ain't love, I don't know what is it."

-------

Graduation was over, the celebration with your dad, Miguel and Gabriela was a success, and soon, you were back with your dad at home. Your dad went to sleep and soon you changed into more comfortable clothes

The doorbell rang half hour later, you went to pick up, and to surprise you saw Miguel.

"Hey, come in." He kissed you in the process and soon, gave you a bouquet of roses.

"Thank you, they're beautiful"

"Congratulations, princesa. Where's your dad?"

"Sleeping. He was exhausted."

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Are you tired?"

"A bit. But if you wanna go for a walk, I don't mind. Just let me get my sneakers on."

You went to your room, and grabbed a pair of sneakers. You were lacing them, and the door behind you closed, the lock clicking. Big and strong arms picked you up and made you straddle his hips.

"My dad's sleeping!" You mumbled between gritted teeth

"Even better."

"You're such a perv." You kissed him as his hands removed your shirt and smirked upon finding bare breasts.

"Me? You're not wearing a bra, cariño." his mouth grazing your neck as his hands held you in place.

"Never liked them anyways." Your giggles were replaced by a soft moan as his fangs nipped at your sensitive skin. His fingers hooked in the hem of your shorts and panties to slid them out your legs, leaving you bare before him. The socks and sneakers were the only thing that dressed you up.

In all reality was that despite your dad's initial rejection to your relationship, that didn't stop Miguel to have his fun with you in other places in your home, before cleaning of course.

You had gone from the kitchen, to the porch, the thrill of of your neighbors catching you was borderline maddening.

Miguel had a thing for exhibitionism. And so you had discovered once you were fucking in the attic's window. In his car in the middle of a parking lot? check, your garage? Done. Had to wash the front of your dad's car since your silhouette was engraved on it. Shower? twice already. Stairs? of course.

You wore a dress and that was enough for him to take you in the spot.

"Now that I think about it, your room is the only place where we haven't had fun." He twirled you around and positioned in all your fours on the bed. The smoothness of your skin, displayed before him. Puffed labia waiting for his ministrations.

"Ass up, face down." He commanded as you flattened your chest down on the plush bed, obeying at his words.

His hands took yours as he made them grab your ankles. Spreading your soft flesh for him even further. He groaned at the sight as he licked his lips.

He removed his clothes, and kneeled behind you.

"Where was the last time?" His mouth pressed soft kisses in your inner thighs, and then he moved to your nub of nerves. Your body tensed at the feeling of his wet tongue dribbling up and down your slit.

"T-The living room" you spoke in between tiny, shaky whines, his tongue flickering with speed on your clit, you trembled and bit your lip to drown a shaky moan. The suckling and kissing noises sent chills down your spine.

He hummed and released your flesh with a small pop

"Oh, right. Had your dad sitting where you rode my face..." You groaned as the grip on your ankles faltered, his thumb rubbed in slow motions the already sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Where you rode me" He nearly whimpered as the memory replayed in his mind. He sunk his face once more in between your folds, holding your hips in place, eating his food with such delight it made your toes to curl in.

"Dios, te veías tan preciosa montándome." (You looked so gorgeous riding me)

He growled and slapped your rear, that only jiggled and flushed softly in response.

"Bouncing over and over, tryin'to make me cum inside this tight little pussy..."

Your hips bucked by instinct at his words, Your folds glistened both in arousal and his spit. You were turned around and got your knees bend up to your shoulders, folding you into a mating press position. His wide shoulders flexed as his hands maneuvered yours to hold yourself in place.

"You trying getting knocked up, hmm?"

"Y-Yes" You hissed in between soft pants.

"Oh..." Your heart and pussy throbbed at his expression. Goosebumps making your  skin crawl, you could swear from the light that his eyes glinted red, his breath hitched. As if waiting for so long for you to say such words. And now that you had granted him permission, there was nothing holding him back.

God, What had you done?

A flicker of fear crossed your features as he smirked. His fangs in full display for you. He guided his tip and stroked it against your folds to then sink himself in you. He shuddered at the warmth and tightness welcoming him.

"Fuck" he groaned and looked at your face as he entered you, you choked a sob.

"Let's make a mami out of you" His words slurred an octave lower. He groaned and his hips smacked yours.

You gasped and he covered your mouth with a single hand.

"But you gotta be quiet, princesa. We don't wanna wake up your daddy when we're making a baby here." His hips rammed yours and your eyes went shut, inhaling sharply against his mouth. He remained deep buried, unmoving, relishing the heat your cunt provided.

His weight crushed your body, keeping your legs folded as he hovered over your face. His other hand craddled you, and his hips rolled again, earning a shaky whimper from you. He was going slow on purpose, a pace you weren't used to.

You could feel every inch digging inside you, stretching your flesh and poking at your cervix.

"Te vas a ver tan chula" (You're going to look so beautiful)

He breathed as he nibbled the skin of your neck, grazing his fangs, to then bit. you could only groan and sob into his hand.

"Round and swell with my kid growing inside you" His whole body kept you folded, as he slowly fucked its way into you. He refused to give in as you rocked your hips against his, urging him into a faster pace.

He was low and steady, mumbling how well you were taking him, how he couldn't wait to milk your breast once you got pregnant, and how pretty you'd look in his big shirts, belly popping out all while he kept fucking you in a torturous slow pace.

He kept cooing and mumbling things in spanish that you didn't understand, but his cock kissing your womb over and over, grazing sweetly at your spot, made your toes curled in.

"You cumming mi amor?" You nodded weakly as he pressed tighter on your mouth, your breath hitched and your body went taut.

"Esoo" (That's it) He kissed your temple and removed his hand, you gasped for air, panting and heaving as your insides trapped him.

"P... Please" you whimpered and looked at him as he repositioned himself above you. Both his hands held you now in place, giving him more access into you.

"Please what?" he gave a condescending smirk your way as he hoisted his hips upwards, without leaving you completely

"H-Harder" you croaked and he let his whole weight to fall on the firm and deep thrust. Your jaw clenched as he stretched impossibly deeper inside. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes and he lifted his hips once more, air knocking out of your throat

"Sweet girl wants me to fuck her harder?"

You nodded dumbly, his tip stretching your entrance.

"Please!" you begged with a mewl. Mouth went slack open as he rammed his hips. Your breast bounced in between your hoisted thighs as you shook with every thrust his body mustered. He wasn't holding back. The room was filled with the sounds of his growlings, your mattress creaking under your weight, menacing to cave in the sturdy wooden frame and the constant slapping of flesh.

All you could hear was a

Slap a pause slap slap slap slap

Tears rolled down your cheeks as pleasure screwed up your judgement. Your mouth opened, ready to voice out your pleasure, but a hand on your neck prevented you from doing such nonsense. Fire licked at your skin

Your folds received him with a squelching suck each time he ventured deeper. It felt like you were made specially for him. So ever hot and tight no matter how much his cock stretched you, over and over.

"You're being too noisy, mi amor." He squeezed and you gasped. Air slowly leaving your lungs as he fucked the daylights out of you, just the way you were used to. This time however, you weren't on contraceptives anymore. And that fact alone was dangerously thrilling for him.

You didn't know what made you hotter, the fact you were actually trying in making a baby with Miguel while your dad slept, and he was making everything for you to be loud, or the way he always seemed to ravage you in hopes to get you pregnant.

But dizziness took over and your nails clawed at his squeezing hand as he came first with a deep growl, spurting all his seed deep in you. Hot and flooding your insides. Your muscles spasming only welcomed his cum deeper, your eyes rolled back.

"You'll be such a good mommy for me." He panted and let your neck go, his mouth kissed softly at your marked skin. Red handprint glowed on your flesh as you wheezed and panted for air,

His eyes softened at your blissful blown face, to then pepper you with kisses. You were trying to find your voice as your numb hips finally went back to a natural and laid back position. Legs shaking softly. Breaths coming steady, He stared at you, a warm feeling spreading on your chest.

"I...-"

"Cupcake?" You dad spoke from the other side of the door.

You froze, Miguel chuckled silently

"Uh, yeah?" you rasped, trying for your voice to not sound as hoarse as it was

"I'll go to the store. Want something?"

"Some cherry cola, please."

"Gotcha. Be right back."

His steps faded until you could hear the main door being closed and his car revving. You couldn't help but giggle, he followed and kissed you.

----------

"You ok?" Miguel handed a papercup full with coffee to your dad as he watched you going through some some bridal gowns.

"Yeah... Just... She's getting married."

"Hm."

"To you."

Miguel frowned and your dad smirked with mirth.

"I once asked her if she would, but seeing this turning into a reality is... overwhelming."

The both men watched as you and Gabriela scrunched their noses at a particular dress and then laughed.

"Bad timing then."

"Hm? For what?"

"She's been moody and emotional lately."

"... Shut up..."

"I kept my promise didn't I?"

Your dad only rubbed his face and sipped his coffee.

"Guess you did. Nothing I can do about it I guess."

Miguel's eyes followed you as you took Gabriela's hand and led her to another section of the bridal shop.

Despite your request of being a private and intimate ceremony, Miguel still insisted into wearing a white dress.

"Would it be fucked up to say that I'm glad you're the one marrying my little cupcake?"

"Very. Still.. Glad you understand that I'm serious about it. Does her mom know?"

"Yeah, didn't care. Never did, actually."

"I see."

"As long as you're making her happy, that's all I care about."

"That's a promise."

"Im sure she'll buy waterproof makeup, she's quite the-"

"Crybaby? Yeah. I know. Quite adorable when her nose goes all red."

Your dad chuckled. As messed up the whole thing was, according to some of his most trusted coworkers, he felt a huge weight being lifted out of his shoulders. 

-------

If you wanna be added to nsfw related fics of Miguel let me know!

Taglist:

@um-well

@capmedusa

@migueloharaslxt

@thbidkbutok

@joestarbitch

@angelarcheangel

@ewan-tef

@gejo333

@hyunrelics

@topreice

@luvstich

@loonalockley

@allysunny

@punk-22

@jesterglitch

@sc4rltwitch

@roselove105

[winniethewife]

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you (Moon Knight System x F!reader)

Warnings: Presumed!dead character, Reader romantically involved with Jake, Marc and Steven are featured, Mother!reader, Single mom, Angst,

Words: 634

She would never expected to have to do this alone. Just as she thought she wouldn’t do many other things alone. Witnessing her Daughters first steps, Her daughters first doctors appointment, the first time she got really sick, the first time she made a friend, her first move, all the way to London. She wasn’t expecting to be alone for her child’s first…everything. And now as she drives down the street she looks at the little girl with dark curls and brown eyes sitting in her booster seat as she looked out the window eagerly.

“Celesia?” She called her daughter’s name and the little girl looked over at her, the gaze in the rearview mirror reminded her so much of the girl’s father.

~

Jake Lockley was a rascal, but he loved her, and for some reason she loved him back. Despite the complications, Despite Marc living his life how he wished, taking her Jake wherever that was, with whoever that was. She had managed to form a friendship with Marc, which didn’t make it any easier, because she started to care a whole lot, a bad habit of hers. At some point they moved in together, a lovely thing to have with Jake, an interesting time with Marc. So when Marc teamed up with Bushman, she had advised against it. It seemed like a really bad idea, it wasn’t that she just wanted to keep Jake with her, it wasn’t the fact that she would have to find another roommate, she was genuinely worried about Marc. So of course when Marc had already been too stubborn and had shipped off, It was time to get a positive pregnancy test, because the universe finds that shit funny.

~

“Yes Mommy?” Her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present.

“You ready for your first day at school?” She asked, trying to sound excited. The little girl nodded enthusiastically, giving her mom two thumbs up. Which she glanced in the mirror. “Remember baby, I can’t look at you when I’m driving so I need you to use your words.” She reminded the eager five year old.

“Right, Sorry Mommy. I am really excited! I can’t wait to make friends and learn things and-” The young girl continued to ramble, causing her mother to smile warmly. So many things reminded her of Jake, and Marc.

~

She sat tears streaming down her face as she read over the letter, all that was found of Marc Spector was some of his belongings in a bloodied temple in egypt, presumed dead, and seeing as everyone else on the expedition was dead that was a good assumption. But she was three months pregnant and currently trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do without her best friend and the father of her baby who, unfortunately in this case, inhabit the same body. She wasn’t sure how the hell she was supposed to do all this alone. Where to even start. But she didn’t have a choice now.

~

The whole day she kept checking her phone during work, just in case she missed a call from the school or a message from Celesia’s teacher, but there was nothing. At the end of the day she rushed to pick her up from school, and then they went to the store after. As the two of them puzzled over which kind of sweets to buy that week, she was surprised when a man ran into her.

“Oh, Sorry! That was entirely my fault there. So sorry.” The voice was too familiar, wrong accent, right voice.

“Jake?” She turned to look at the man, messy head of curls, Dark Brown eyes. The man looked confused. “Marc?’ She asked, maybe too hopeful.

“Sorry, Er I’m Steven, With a V.”

~

Masterlist

Taglist; : @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

A/N: Middle of the night angst? Happens more often than you think.

[theresattrpgforthat]

The computer game Pacific Drive has the player driving a supernatural station wagon and delving ever deeper into an abandoned exclusion zone in the Olympic Peninsula of Washington, dodging anomalies, scavenging for resources, exploring, and seeking answers to what events caused the creation of the zone. The game takes heavy inspiration from the art of Simon Stålenhag, which has its on TTRPG in "Tales from the Loop", but can you recommend any other games that would recreate the experience of Pacific Drive?

THEME: Pacific Drive

Hello friend, so I looked up Pacific Drive and one thing that I found out about it was that it was inspired by media such as Annihilation and Roadside Picnic, so first I’m going to send you to my Fucked Up Settings Rec post, especially to the games titled Trespasser and The Zone.

What I’m getting from Pacific Drive is that it’s focused on travel, exploration, an interesting story, the ability to improve the one thing that you survive with, and experiencing a world that fundamentally doesn’t care about you. So let’s see if we have anything that hits any of those tangents.

The Last Caravan, by Ted Bushman.

In this cozy, melancholy post-apocalypse, the aliens came less than a year ago. The war lasted two months, but nobody won. Now, with an alien army rising from the ashes of war, you will have to make a dangerous journey across a shattered North America in search of a new home.

You are normal people finding heroism in extraordinary circumstances. You will explore transformed landscapes, search abandoned towns, discover otherworldly technology, negotiate with newly-formed factions, outrun alien pursuers, and — and all you’ve got is a car, your fellow travelers, and the road.

The Last Caravan combines the survival-horror genre with the fiction-first ethos of Blades in the Dark and No Dice No Masters. Each character has a list of prompts called triggers that reward you with a narrative resource that can open up abilities as you tell your story. The alien apocalypse has come, but the story isn’t over, as a some kind of threat shows signs of growing as you travel across a cold, frozen highway. If you’re interested in The Last Caravan, but missed the Kickstarter, you can check out the Quickstart while you wait for the final release.

24XX-D: Aftertime, by xiombarg.

As a volunteer for the  private paramilitary group Project Aftertime, your health was altered and your brain preserved so you could be revived after society collapsed. 

You awoke in an unfamiliar base filled with unfamiliar technology, with even stranger ultratech outside. 

The Event the wastelanders describe makes no sense. "The gods left us."

I feel like I’m missing something when I look through my folders because the 24XX system feels perfect for these kinds of ‘exclusion zone” games but Aftertime feels the closest to it, and it’s definitely not perfect. There’s too many people milling about, and there seems to be too much pointing towards some kind of answer about the alien event. However, I think in general, 24XX is a great system to root around in if you want to make something for yourself. A lot of these kinds of games have great roll-tables for events, locations, and missions, and inventory (which seems really important in Pacific Drive) is simple to track but absolutely necessary.

Aftertime is different from other 24XX games in that it uses a pool of resources rather than dice rolls to determine what you can or cannot do. You could stick with that, or mash this game together with some other 24XX games like PREDATORS to incorporate dice rolls, and vehicles. What I like about Aftertime is that it includes a base that you can upgrade over time, similar to how your car in Pacific Drive gets better as you find upgrades for it.

Crush Depth Apparition, by amandalee.

February 1902, somewhere on the North Atlantic. Mountainous waves blot out the horizon, and the wind and thunder roar too loud to tell one from the other. But 200 ft down there’s only still cold darkness and the submarine.  

No one has ever dived this deep before, so far from shore and safety. Maybe no one was ever meant to try. The submarine is 170 feet of dripping pipes and fogged up dials, levers rusting stuck in the damp. It was two weeks into the voyage when things started going wrong.  Little accidents, inexplicable mistakes. Someone heard a noise, like tapping, soft against the hull last night. Bright paint flakes off a torpedo and underneath there is a story scratched into the metal. The Captain turns down a hallway that can’t be there,  into pipes and steel and miles of ocean.

The one thing keeping you safe down here has turned into a labyrinth. 

Crush Depth Apparition is an eerie survival horror stand alone adventure zine for 3-5 players and a GM by Amanda Lee Franck. It  includes rules for running and repairing a state of the art (of 120 years ago) experimental submarine, a map of the ocean, an unnatural labyrinth,  ghostly encounters,  hundreds of things that can go wrong, and a crew that depends on you.

Because you are depending on your submarine for survival, much of the focus of this adventure is going to be on keeping it running. You’ll need to manage your fuel levels, the submarine’s battery, and how deep you go, all while trying to find a way home. The setting is very different from Pacific Drive, and I think the horror amps up a little bit because there are more personal details that will likely worm themselves into this game. You’re also less likely to survive the entirety of this game; but the weirdness that happens the further that you adventure may mirror some of the strangeness of Pacific Drive.

ZONE, by Iron Cutler.

ZONE is a genre-agnostic TTRPG , heavily inspired by Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach Trilogy, though adaptable to a wide variety of settings. It is about trespassing in a bizarre and dangerous area—the Zone—and becoming changed by what you find inside.

ZONE is a GM-less ttrpg that uses collaborative worldbuilding to design and deepen the strangeness of the world around you. Each session will contain an expedition of Trespassers, people who enter the Zone without permission, and thus destined to be permanently changed. Your Trespassers will not usually survive from one expedition to the next; this place will change them, and that is why ZONE is described as “un-winnable” by its designer.

Unlike many of the other games on this list, ZONE is very abstract because it doesn’t expect you to succeed. Your characters are destined to fail once they incur too much shock, so managing resources is not really something worth doing in this game. Character creation is also rather simple, and I think that is because the main focus of this game is on the place you are exploring, rather than the character themself. If you want a game about the horror of being changed by something alien and ultimately uncaring about you, I’d recommend ZONE.

RAD, by ¡Hipólita!

We don't know who broke the world, but we know what weapon they used.

In the year 1990, the United States of America fired a nuclear attack on the Soviet Union, immediately killing millions and poisoning the land, air and water for years.

The scarce few survivors were forced into hiding. About 50,000 people fled to the relative safety of the Moscow Metro, with smaller numbers following suit in cities like Novosibirsk, Volgograd, Saint Petersburg, Yekaterinburg, Samara and others.

RAD is a game full of radiation-induced body-horror and all about survival. You have four core stats, and the rest of your character sheet is all about resources and inventory, including three resources called Bedroll, Rations and Battery. The game mechanics are inspired by systems like Mausritter, which means that player creativity and smart item use will take you far. It’s all about a delicate balance of resources, so if that’s what you liked about Pacific Drive, you might want to check out RAD - as well as an adventure for it titled The Technicolor Forest.

Other Games I've Recommended Before

Nibiru, by Araukana Media.

Apocalypse Roadtrip, by Mynar Lenahan.

Roadspire, by Glempy.

[absolute-rehydration]

Some old lazy drawing of bushman and french trash aurr✨️✨️

"They waitin for the bus idk"

-a friend of mine

[midgardian-witch]

Love Lost

Marc died and with him Jake. But then they didn't. What is a heartbroken mercenary to do when their love is married to someone else?

A continuation of All That Matters

tags: Break Up | Fake Character Death | Blood and Violence | Minor Character Death | Crimes & Criminals | Lovers To Enemies (and later back to Lovers but not in this part) | Angst and Feels | Heartbreak | Emotional Manipulation | gender-neutral Reader

ships: Jake Lockley/gn!Reader (former), eventual MK System/Reader/Layla (in future installments), Raul Bushman & Reader

word count: 1.7k

AN: So I didn't think I was going to post this ever but after @strangerhands's amazing response to reading this I decided to publish it after all. This might become a longer series with no regular updates planned (yet) so bare with me.

AO3

Bushman had arrived back with not even a handful of mercenaries. You saw them being welcomed back by those that were told to stay behind, just like yourself. You craned your neck, not even trying to be subtle, but the one person you were looking for was nowhere to be seen. 

Blocking your vision, the leader of your mercenary group stepped in front of you. Your gaze travels up towards his face, a sad smile on his lips. 

His words are all but a blur in your memory. 

"I know you two were close," he said, his blood-soaked hand laying heavy on your shoulder. "Spector was a good man."

Was.

The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, Bushman's voice in your ear turned to garbled static. You're sure your whole body was shaking, heart racing so fast you could hear the blood pumping through your veins.

"It's always sad to lose a good man."

You could feel his arms wrap around you, holding you through the tremors of the reality you've had to face. Stomach churning, bile rising in your throat - you felt sick. Sick with the dread of what had happened. Sick with the feeling of Bushman's arms caging you in like you're a frightened animal. 

Back then you felt like it. 

You just couldn’t believe it. It had to be a dream - a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. 

But it did. 

Marc Spector was dead. 

His corpse rotting in the desert sands. 

And with him: Jake Lockley. 

Bushman took you to his personal tent, trying to calm you down with soft words and a lot of booze. Later he told you the story, his story, of what had happened. 

That you believed that son of a bitch for even one minute still makes you feel ashamed.

Bushman helped you through the first days, weeks, months of grief. You had always felt something was wrong with him. The way he treated you, trained you. He told you then he wanted you to be his second-in-command. A loyal mercenary to help him when push came to shove. 

But you were stuck in this miasma of sadness and grief, unable to breathe. 

That was before he showed you the pictures. 

You saw Bushman looming over his desk, bits and pieces of paper strewn about the surface. As you approached slowly you couldn’t quite make out what he was looking at. They seemed to be photos: cheery, smiling faces looking at the camera, a kaleidoscope of colors and people. 

Until your eyes zeroed in on one picture, one familiar face. 

"I am so sorry, my friend" He said as he saw realization dawn on you. 

These were wedding photos. And the groom, a huge smile on his face, was Marc. 

Instead of elation, of the weight of grief finally lifting off of you, you felt your stomach sink. Looking at Marc's face, his very alive face, pushed the air out of your lungs. You felt like you were drowning, throat closing off and choking on the wave of emotion that hit you. 

His wife looked beautiful. Even through the picture she seemed like a kind and strong person. Someone amazing and skilled. Someone Marc could fall in love with. 

You always knew you weren't the right person for Marc. He had made it clear. You could deal with that. You were happy for him! After all: to love is to let go. And yet. 

"It's cruel, isn't it?" 

It took all your willpower to tear your gaze away from that picture, from the happy couple, towards Bushman's face. Your brows knit together in confusion before he continued. "You two were so close. To not even try and find you? Or send a message telling you he's ok? That must sting."

It did. But not because of what Bushman was impling, not because of Marc. 

You have me, mi vida. I will never lie to you. I will never hurt you. And I will never leave you.

But he did. He left you. Without a good-bye. Without an explanation. Without a sign of life. 

Jake had lied to you and he had left you. 

And that's what pushed you over the edge. Blood boiling, you didn't realize what happened until you saw your hand clenched around the hunting knife you keep strapped to your boot, the blade buried in the damned wedding photo, right between Marc's eyes. You had never felt rage like that. 

Bushman's low chuckle carries over the blood pumping in your ears. "That's it. That's the spirit!" He praised you on your outburst, congratulating you on leaving the small, sad shell of yourself you had become behind. 

You should have seen how delusional he had become far earlier but you were distracted. That distraction was over now, miles away, alive and married to someone else. 

Bushman prefered you angry, a well-trained attack dog for him to control. His personal bodyguard. His second-in-command. And that's what you became. You trained, you fought, you killed. When Bushman dealt with other things you were in charge and you were damn good at it. But once he had you in the place he wanted you to be, things changed. 

He became obsessed with Egyptology, the Ennead, and the countless relics still left to be unearthed. Not in the way an archeologist had an interest in the past but in the way a madman was lusting after power beyond the mortal world. 

He told you about his theories one night. 

"That's how your disloyal boytoy survived," You didn't even flinch at the mention of Marc, of Jake, anymore. "There was this temple or something there. One of the gods must have helped him," he murmured before he took another swig from his flask. The stench of cheap alcohol made your nose twitch. "That's the only way that bastard could have survived the amount of bullets I put in him."

You always knew deep down that his story, the one he told you when they returned to camp, dripping in blood and gold, was a lie. Now you had proof. 

Bushman's delusions had cost him the loyalty of his mercenaries, the one thing he so valued. Instead they looked up to the one person that would actually lead them, the one that was capable of making actual plans and successfully bringing everyone back alive: you. 

That fool should have never underestimated you. He wanted an attack dog, instead he made you something worse: his successor. 

As he was writhing in your grip, your hunting knife slicing through his throat with ease, you already knew none of the others would miss him. Your mentor, your leader, the man that tried to kill the person you loved, choking on his own blood, gurgling and wheezing until the last spark of life left him - that sound would stay with you forever. You don't forget the people you kill easily. You're not a monster after all. 

Mercenary work didn't feel right anymore after that. Too many bad memories. The other people that used to work for Bushmen, your people now, were easily convinced to switch their line of work according to your plans. What you had planned wasn't honest work, neither was being a mercenary, but there was a lot of money to be made from crime. Never do what you're good at for free and being a crime boss paid handsomely. You found a new base of operations, some place far away from the desert sands. Quite the opposite of the dry heat and endless sunshine. 

London was dreary to say the least. You're still not sure if you enjoy the rain most of the time, especially now that the novelty of it has run out. 

You're sitting in your office watching the rain drops slide down the window plane when there is a knock at the door. There is no rest for the wicked, you think as you call out for whoever was outside to enter. You see David, your second-in-command, step in, a tall man, one of the local criminals you had adopted into your ranks when you first arrived here. His worried look makes your stomach clench. 

"What happened?" you ask in a stern voice, already dreading the answer yet not wanting to give anything away. 

"I'm sorry, Boss. I have bad news. From what I understood from the group we sent on that Gloucester job-," he stops himself shaking his head in disbelief, "They were attacked. That's what Jimmy told me at least. Some guy in a white cape and a lady with golden wings. The others are still getting medical attention or didn't make it."

You blink at him, both of you sharing the same disbelieving look. "You're kidding me." He shakes his head. "I would never make jokes about that, Boss. I didn't believe it either but why would someone lie about that?" In a world with actual sorcerers, norse deities, WW2 soldiers surviving being frozen alive and billionaires in supersuits? It's a reasonable lie to pick. Your people were loyal though and while prone to lying if necessary, they never did so to you. 

"I really had hoped that this whole superhero vigilante business would stay in the US but of course not," you sigh and roll your eyes, "Just our luck." David chuckles in response and the corners of your mouth twitch into a smile. 

"So we got some guys in spandex trying to play hero," you repeat, "So how do we deal with that? Do we know anything about these people?" He shakes his head and steps forward to take a seat in front of your desk. 

"No, Boss. We just know that they are very strong, inhumanly strong."

"So Mr. White and his mysterious partner, possibly both with superhuman abilities," you think out loud so David can follow your thought process more easily. "We are going to need better weapons." David flinches when he hears your words. You look at him expectantly before he explains: "Our people had guns but apparently they didn't do anything." You frown, not liking what you're hearing. “That will be an issue. And there is nothing else we know about those guys? I'd rather not have to try and steal from Stark or some wizard to get rid of our little problem here.”

“Well, we have their names if they are who I think they are.”

“Out with it then!”

“They call themselves Moon Knight and the Scarlet Scarab.”

[jespardon]

I saw you answer an ask about nsfw cheavy headcannons and wanted to ask if you had any for good ol sniper? I CANNOT stop brain rotting over the bushman.

Personally i adore the absolute sub sniper hc but im pretty sure im in the minority there.

oh trust me you do NOT want to get me started on nsfw sniper headcanons (/j). my friend eddie and i are out there playing 4d chess with the poor guy's sexuality.

Baaaasically we're going off the assumption Snipes is a cis guy with some amount (?) of gender feelings, a whole lot of denial around his attraction to men, AND socially awkward from spending most of the time alone.

So we're taking this guy who grew up with barely no friends, spent most of his adult time alone, had both infinite time and no real experience to figure out his sexuality, and putting him in a base with 8 handsome sweaty mercs >:)

Sub sniper is absolutely based. Sub sniper that tries to be assertive cause that's what's expected of tall "rough" men like him, but folding under the slightest challenge or teasing back. Sub sniper who is sooo focused on pleasing his partner correctly because he's afraid of messing up a good interaction.

Object based paraphernalias. The guy is a pining machine and loves mementos. A spy's discarded glove, engie's belt, pyro's boots, an empty bottle from demo that he reuses to drink out of and get his lips where demo's were 🥰

So Much Repressed Lust. Probably uncomfortable with his body and the concept of physical attraction so there's a lot of room for angst to fluff to spice here >:] Spy plays with his weaknesses here a lot

When it comes to sniperspy specifically, there's months or even years of those "it's so convoluted is it even sex ?" situations. Fights that turn into feverish fully dressed humping sessions then resume into a fight. Spy getting sniper off fully cloaked then disappearing just as fast. Mind games and knowing glances exchanged.

TW Unhealthy relationship dynamics : we hc that whichever spy we ship him with has a voyeuristic tendency and observes sniper just living his life at first, but eventually witnessing deeply embarassing debased sniper moments. These can even be used later as leverage to coax sniper into not killing him instantly when he eventually intrudes in his van >:3

Which brings us to : first thoroughly sexual encounter between them is initiated by spy breaking into sniper's van and questioning the bushman on why the hell he keeps one of spy's old gloves.

I have a looot more i just barely woke up and need to gather my thougts... And also some of these are better off staying secret for a while so that i may express them through art instead >:3

[flames-unicorns-and-sentryguns]

Larping AU

or: everyone is just playing pretend. The Administrator is someone just kinda watching from the property next door.

Everyone's real life deal

Scout: community college student in his first/ second year. Works part time at subway, working on/ wants to be a voice actor and artist. Not related to Spy here.

Spy: an actual Actor, befriends Scout and males their characters have the Father son relationship. Wears lots of costume pieces and clothes to hide himself.

Demoman: a Scotsman who owns a bar and has a special interest in explosives.

Solider: a history teacher at the college scout goes to. Knows his stuff and will throw in some factual historical/ casual knowledge into his pretend nonsensical yelling.

heavy: a literature teacher at the same college. Befriends Solider, got introduced to Demoman via Solider. Zhanna hangs out with him and ends up as part of the Lore of their game. Met Scout outside of work because he happens to visit the same shop scout works at.

Engineer: is a civil/ electrical engineer. Has wrist and hand problems and wears a brace. Can't actually play the guitar ( partially due to his wrist pain). So he brings around a guitar hero guitar to pretend to play it. Accidentally said yeah I'm playing an engineer because he did not realize they were picking their roles. All his machines are made of cardboard boxes. The dispenser is a cooler people can come by and grab snacks/ drinks and take a break.

Medic: an actual medic, dating heavy still. When he activates ' Uber' he makes the medic theme song with his mouth for 8 seconds.

Sniper: a park ranger at the local wildlife preservation park. Im not taking away the Bushman thing.

pyro: worked or works with some sort of painting/ spray paint and needs the suit/ mask. Friends with engineer still.

They all kinda know each other/ end up visiting the same bar. They got to talking and made a goofy story/ wouldn't it be funny if - situation and started making up a whole lore behind it..

Spy's cloak: he is throwing a blanket of some sort and everyone pretending not to see him. Doesn't smoke, but likes to chew on things. His knives? A Popsicle stick. His disguises? Still the paper masks

Engineer pretends his wrist brace is the Gunslinger and he gets to slap people.

the guns and bats? Nerf guns and the like. Heavys boxing gloves? Socker boppers.

The bombs? Glitter bombs.

Rocket jumping? A pogo stick/ trampoline.

Saxton Hale is a gym bro that comes by sometimes.

pyros flamethrower ? A broken vacuum cleaner/ hair dryer.

Medic carries around a toy medic bag. His medigun? A flash light/ a vacuum hose.

the classic mercs are some old people/ people from the old folks home they invited over for some of the main comic plot.

Merasmus is Soliders room mate and insists on trying to Play regular DND in this larp.

[justyoursicanon]

I was left in the dark (Till' the light opened up)

And there he goes, Laying in his arms, taking his last few breaths, and his last few words. Before he fell into the darkness. Cold and still. The disguise was long gone as he stared at his son, the destruction, the voices. All of it fading, slowing and distorting down like a record. What if… Spy just held Scout a little longer?

"Mate."

Spy knew what he was implying, he knew that exact tone the night he told the Sniper that single secret he had kept for so long.

But he just couldn't tell the man in front of him the truth.

"Yes, I know. Give us a moment."

It was time, he had to tell the truth. He needed Scout to know before..

"I..."

Just say it. All those insults and other words you've told him from all those days you've worked with him weren't so hard to say. And yet, you couldn't say this to him?

"I'll be right back."

As soon as he stood up and pocketed his disguise kit, he heard the Sniper sigh not too far from him, leaning on the wall for support as he gave him a look. "Don't give me that look bushman, I'm only doing this for his own good." Spy spoke up, low enough for the Sniper to hear, but not enough for Scout.

"Mate, there's outta be a better way to tell him this then just lying to him." The marksman replied, still clutching his continuous bleeding side.

Spy only picked out a single cigarette, the case wide open and the button laying there, ready to be pressed and activate the disguise.

"I've given him too much trouble from the day he was born, having him find out his own father was the man he despised and worked with for the last 5 years unknown is the last thing he would want as his last thought."

He placed the tip of the cigarette into his mouth, blowing out a puff of smoke as he gave the disguise one more glance. "Don't you have something to say to the boy?"

Sniper stayed silent, looking over at Scout, only to see his body getting paler by the second, and his eyes falling ever so slowly.

"We had our moments. But I was bloody glad to be his best friend for so long.."

Spy gave Sniper a single glance as he heard him utter his sentence, he could hear the force in his voice, the faint crack in the end of it, the sad glint in his eye, maybe something even more.

Spy could only sigh as he clicked the button, and smoke surrounded him.

-

"What's new pussycat?"

Spy always had a deep hatred for the man. But not because of his ability to sing, not because of his fame.

But because Scout adored him to the very end.

That when he saw that smile on his son's face, he could only hate the man he was disguised as even more.

"You're stronger then you'll ever know, Jeremy."

Oh how it had been so long since he's ever let that name fall from his mouth.

"I'm proud of you."

"I've always been proud of you." "Son."

He almost lost control of his impression once he saw Scout's smile brighten, and his eyes slowly falling shut.

"Frickin'... Awesome.."

And there he goes, Laying in his arms, taking his last few breaths, and his last few words. Before he fell into the darkness. Cold and still. The disguise was long gone as he stared at his son, the destruction, the voices. All of it fading, slowing down like a record.

Sniper could only stare in despair as he watched the scene happen, having to look away as Scout uttered his last words.

Spy could feel himself shake. his gloved hands sweating, and soaking up the blood of his own son. He could feel his lips tremble as his eyes closed shut to stop the tears from even starting to form.

He couldn't tell him, but that's okay.

He was in pain, but was happy to leave in the arms of someone he loved.

Spy couldn't hold it anymore.

He brought the stiff and cold body of Jeremy closer to his chest, letting the brunette's head fall on his shoulder as he harshly wiped a light tear dropping close to his mask to soak in.

His other hand that was holding Scout's shoulder moved to his blood soaked bandaged hand, and he held it tight. Wishing that the boy would just squeeze back one last time.

Sniper tried to take a step forward, opening his mouth to tell Spy they needed to leave but... He just couldn't. Watching his best friend go with a smile was enough for him. He couldn't let himself break the Spy's sorrow moment.

Spy let another tear drip down and land on his mask to sink in. And he brought his hand to gently pet his son's hair as he muttered softly.

"Goodbye, Mon lapin."

His voice cracked, as he hugged his blooded body tight. Several tears forming in his eyes as they dripped down more and more.

He was gone.

But at least he was happy.

'Cough'

The silence was broken, the chaos not too far ahead fading all around the two men.

The three men.

Spy lifted his head up in a mixture of emotions, his eyes snapping down to glance at Scout's face and..

"Spy...?"

He's alive.

He's alive.

"Spy what.. What the hell are you.."

Spy couldn't move, he couldn't change the position he was in as he stared at Scout's face and the colors returning to his ridiculous expression. The blue hue in his eyes growing brighter as he gains his consciousness.

But suddenly, he was punched between his shoulder and face, and he stumbled back to the wall slightly as he came back to face reality.

"You.. You asshole man!"

He looked back at Scout to see him sit up with his hands supporting himself on the ground. His leg kicking Spy's harshly as he weakly pointed at his chest. "You-.. Out of all people, had to go and dress up as Tom Jones and lie about being my DAD!"

Spy could hear the rage in his broken voice, one tone away from screaming at him like he wasn't dead a minute ago.

He watched as Scout got closer to him, and punched his shoulder again. Before his hand laid flat there, and he..

He hugged him.

"You freakin' liar Spy... Just had to do that asshole of a move to me while I was dyin'..."

Spy was beyond confused. Why isn't Scout screaming at him more? Beating him to the ground in anger, why was he hugging him out of all the possibilities he thought of?

Even Sniper was confused, left in a state of shock as soon as Scout spoke and threw a punch at his father.

"..Ma always said you left for a reason."

Oh.

"...She said you were tryna protect us.."

Scout looked up at him, his pale and broken expression, turning into a relieved and joyful smile as tears formed in his eyes.

"I'm so freakin' glad you were with me this whole time..!"

He laughed happily as he brought Spy in another hug, using whatever energy he had left in him to crush the man in utter confusion.

Spy was speechless, what was he feeling? Relief that he was okay and alive? Saddened and furious that he wasted a special moment and disguise?

Or happy that he finally met his son after all these years, and the outcome being better then the worst?

Spy could care less and hugged Scout back with an unusual laugh of his own, his hand gripping his son's blooded back as the other petted his hair as if he was going to fade in his arms again.

Sniper watched it with a growing smile of relief, sighing as he too was surprised by the Scout's reaction. But was glad that Spy didn't die next from a punch, and that his best friend was given another chance like him.

The End ^^

[starsaroundmyscarsblog]

What would this blog be, without a Taylor-inspired one shot?😄

Right Where You Left Me

Summary: Marc Breaks Your Heart and Leave You Haunted

Marc × reader

Warnings: Angst. Like a shit ton of it. I may have almost cried. Also implementing some lines (sort of) from sad romance songs.

Part II is up BTW - its called happier x happier

Friends get break up, friends get married Strangers get born, strangers get buried

Trends change, rumours fly through new skies

But I'm right where you left me

Today was supposed to be a happy day. You hadn't seen Marc in months, as he'd been doing some private security work in Egypt, under his former officer Raul Bushman, and even though you were used to him being away months at a time, you still got nervous every time you were reunited, and today, especially, you could feel your heart pound.

As you reflected on it later, maybe at the time it had been your body's way of warning you. To turn back, stay in bed all day, not meet Marc at that little restaurant you both loved to go to.

He'd been acting distant for a while. And at first, you thought it'd just been a bad day. But then, a bad day turned into a bad week, and almost a month had passed, and nothing was the same. Whenever you texted him, Marc's answers seemed short, more calculated, like he was having to put effort into spending time with you when it should just come naturally. Still, you were positive that whatever it was bothering him, you would sort it out today when you saw each other. Your relationships had grown so strong because of your ability to talk and communicate with each other.

Matches burn after the other

Pages turn and stick to each other

Wages earned and lessons learned

But I, I'm right where you left me

You blew out the candles in your shared apartment, a lavender scent, bought just so you could make it smell nicer before closing your book and stretching. You had to hurry if you wanted to make it to the airport in time to pick him up. Then, onto the little café right next to the local Barnes and Noble. It was a tradition started when he first started going on tours with the navy. You'd always pick him up at the airport, and he'd buy you a new book, and you two would go to the café for drinks and to talk. In those moments, though the entire world was going by, it felt like all there was was him and his deep brown eyes.

After getting dressed, you headed over to your car and pulled out of the drive, leaving as early as possible. Marc didn't text you when he made landfull, but that didn't matter because you spotted him in front of the airport waiting anyway. You quickly parked and ran up to him, giving him a tight hug, but even though he hugged back, something felt different. You shrugged it off, thinking it was just you. He put his suitcase in the trunk, and climbed into the passenger seat next to you as you pulled out into the main road.

"So do you wanna drop your things home and change, then go to the café, or go there first and maybe get lunch on the way home?" You asked, looking out ahead, to make sure you were turning safely

"Do we have to go to the café today?" He asked "I'm not really feeling it."

You were a little surprised by Marc's answer. Normally he was the one suggesting you go. Thinking he was just in a grumpy mood, you encouraged him

"Oh, come on, it's tradition."

"Fine." He sighed, his reaction hurting you a little, even though you acted like it didn't. Finally, you pulled up to the café and entered, Marc following suit, the comforting smell of cinemmon and coffee warming your heart.

Help, I'm still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt

Cross-legged in the dim light

They say, "What a sad sight"

You made way for the little booth in the corner by the window, where you always sat, since Marc liked to watch the world go by. You smiled at him as you sat down, though he didn't smile back. 'Maybe he didn't see it...' You thought, before one of the waiter's came up to you, asking what you wanted

"Can I have a hot chocolate please?"

"Sure. What about you sir?"

Marc was staring out the window, completely deaf to the waiter's question

"Marc." You shook his arm a little.

"What?" His eyes flickered between you and the waiter "Oh, sorry. Gimme a coffee please."

The waiter went off quickly.

That was weird. He normally got the same as you. Hot chocolate.

I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

Right when I felt the moment stop

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

Marc didn't make any conversation like he normally did, so you decided to sart. You asked him about his time in Egypt, but his answers were short, so after the waiter delivered the drinks, you changed the topic onto yourself, feeling a little awkward. You were just telling him about work when he burst out:

"I met someone."

Time stood still.

I, I stayed there

Dust collected on my pinned-up hair

They expected me to find somewhere

Some perspective, but I sat and stared

"What do you mean?" You asked, though you knew what he meant.

"I met someone," he repeated, slightly louder "In Egypt. Layla. Her name's Layla."

You felt the tears forming, but you wouldn't let them fall. Not now. He couldn’t see you weak.

"How long?" You asked, just stirring your hot chocolate carefully

"What?"

"How long have you loved her. When did you figure it out?"

"Y/N" Marc sighed, leaning back "It doesn't matter."

"Marc, if I'm going to give you up forever to another woman, I deserve to know how long you've loved her."

He sighed again

"I don't know. I didn't plan this," he replied, saying the last part hurriedly."I met her through work, and then, you know, we kept spending more time together -

"And you forgot about me."

"Y/N it's not that simple."

"Isn't it? Another woman came along, and I wasn't important anymore."

"That's not true. It's just different with her."

"How?" You asked."How is any different Marc? Does she sacrifice her sleep and comfort you when you have nightmares or panic attacks? Did she sacrifice a job to be closer to you? Did she sacrifice her dreams so you can live yours? What's so different about her, Marc?"

"Because, the way I love Layla, I can't love you!" He finally snapped, though not loud enough for everyone to hear him.

You couldn't speak. You couldn't move. It was like there was this heavy, depressed weight over you, ridding you of any power.

"And I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm sorry, Y/N. But you deserve better... Someone who can love you better."

He moved to hold your hand, but you moved away from him, haunted. Frozen.

'I deserve you.' You wanted to say, to scream it out. 'I've been there for you through everything. Not Laila.'

Right where you left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You left me, you left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

Marc stood up, his coffee still untouched. A part of you knew this would be the last time you saw him. But you couldn't move. You wanted to. Hold his hand, bring him back to you, and make him forget Layla. But, you knew, in the pit of your desperate little heart it was. Over.

"I'll my things from the apartment tomorrow."

You couldn't even respond, but your eyes went blurry. He took the keys, got his suitcases out of the car, and returned them to you, almost hesitating.

"Y/N, I-m

"Just go. Please Marc. Just go."

So he did.

You stayed in that café all morning, all afternoon, all evening, all night. The world came and went. And everything was still there. The coffee Marc had gone cold. Yours had been finished earlier in an attempt to console yourself.

If it wasn't for the fact that they had to close at 11, you would have stayed there all night too. You didn't want to go home. You didn't want to face the mind-numbing emptiness of your apartment right now, but you were the one paying for it, so you might as well.

You drove home in silence, parking your car next to your building, before taking the lift up to your floor. For some reason, before you turned the door, you had this strange hope. That Marc would be there, making dinner, that it had all been some terrible but dream, but as you stepped inside, you were faced with the fact that this wasn't some typical nightmare, but your new reality, and so for the first time all day, you let yourself crack, and the tears roll down.

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

And you're sitting in front of me

A few days after Marc had gotten his things (which had been done with his spare key while you were at work, which he had left on the doormat) you had turned down all the pictures framed of you and him on the shelves and kitchen counter. You didn't have the heart to throw them away. You wanted to, but just couldn't. Your friends had tried to cheer you up, take you out to parties, or introduce you to new guys, but nothing worked. The parties were packed with people, but you found them empty and lifeless, and the dates paled in compared to Marc. Your friends eventually grew tired of hearing that you missed him and told you to "just get over him." But it wasn't that simple. Marc Spector wasn't just another guy. He was your solar system; your universe. There'd never be another him

At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want

Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right

I, I could feel the mascara run

You told me that you met someone

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

So you ended up at the fateful café where Marc broke up with you. You didn't know why. It was where he shattered you in two, but you had also had some of your happiest memories there. When he told you he liked you, then loved you. You could see it now, the dim light reflecting off his bright eyes. It was perfect. Life with him was perfect.

Help, I'm still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt

Cross-legged in the dim light

You revisited that café every day, for you don't know how long. Days, weeks, months, maybe even a year. You were so caught up in him. You couldn't help it. You had never been so happy. Never will be again. Sometimes, when it was dark or rainy, you thought you saw him leaning against a streetlight opposite the café. But then you blinked, and nothing was there. You wondered at that point who you were looking out for by coming there. Why were you at that stupid little place? He didn't go to it anymore. Because of you. He wanted a new life. With someone else. You were the past. Layla was the present. Had your future with him been a lie?

I, I stayed there

Dust collected on my pinned-up hair

I'm sure that you got a wife out there

Kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware

'Cause I'm right where

I cause no harm, mind my business

If our love died young, I can't bear witness

And it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong

A few years had passed, and you were still there. You were sure Marc had moved on by now. Sure, he and Layla were married. Were happy. Maybe she was expecting. Sometimes, you imagined it had been you. You he had chosen to love above everyone else. You hadn't found anyone new. Even though you had tried, it was almost like you were still waiting for him. In case he came back. To you.

I'm right where you left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

You left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

But you knew you would always be there. The world would come and go. Dynasties would rise and fall. People would be born and live, break up, and marry, right here in this quaint little shop. But you would stay here, forever in pain, while Marc spent his forever in love.

[textingtroublesanswers]

hello!! just wanted to say that ive been reading your fic since the first chapter and it's certainly one of my fav chatfics :]

also: spy, what do you think of your son's partners?

-🌻

Mod B: thank you so much, friend! I never expected my silly lil chat fic to get so much attention, it really means so much to me.

Jacques crosses his arms, thinking, "They are both maniacs, killers in their own right. One hides that behind a veneer of professionalism, & the other behind a cutesy aesthetic."

He thinks for a moment, pulling out a cigarette, "I didn't like either of them, at first. Pyro is a terrifying, formidable force, & every Spy knows to fear a Pyro. Sniper, on the other hand, I had a natural rivalry with, & that soured all of our interactions for many years. Out of all the people on the base, or, god forbid even amongst the other team, Jeremy just had to choose the two people I got along with the least."

He is chewing the end of his cig, but hasn't made an attempt to light it, "However, I can see that they make him happy. They all treat each other well (unlike James & Friedrich did at the start), & I may have been a bit too overprotective of him."

Jacques sighs, "He was right, I was trying to make up for lost time, when he never even needed me to look out for him."

He finally lights the cigarette, scowling, "Although would it hurt that bushman to practice better hygiene? If he is supposed to be my son-in-law at some point, can he not at least make an effort?"

"Speaking of sons-in-law... Mon dieu, neither of my sons could have gone with someone normal, could they? My whole family is just serial killers, now! This is what I get for getting involved with a crime boss & her twin sister."

"Sounds ta me like you deserve it."

"Scout! Get out!

[lazlolullaby]

Where is the Moon Knight AU where Marc and Layla's patron Gods are swapped? and now my brain can't work because it extended into a full roleswap AU?

Layla's father came back from a successful dig with a trove of information and a lovely little ushabti of Khonshu. However, Abdullah is acting strange, talking to thin air, going out at night, researching further into obscure things. The lights are also flickering no matter how much she checks the generator and the wind keeps blowing despite the doors being shut.

Abdullah El-Faouly is the Eye of Khonshu: being banished for so long from the world, the God needs some time to adjust before going forward with his plan of punishing evildoers. (this was Khonshu trying so hard to be like the Ennead, but he could not abandon his nature to protect.) Abdullah ends up breaking the contract and Khonshu leaves the ushabti behind as a token of protection.

(then there is Arthur Harrow, the Talons of Khonshu. While his willingness to perform violence is a boon, sometimes he is too eager.)

Everything is fine for a while, then mercenaries break in to find the artifact. Bushman threatens them. Layla fights and takes down most of them, but her father is still hurt. One of the remaining mercenaries turns on Bushman. (He starts the mission as Marc - but since he can't handle another innocent death on his hands, backs out and swaps with Jake.)

During the struggle, Layla gets shot. Jake gets things done and then scatters. (he believes that he killed her. this has. repercussions on the system.)

Khonshu at first just wanted to revive Abdullah, but at his insistence he gives up being an Avatar so Layla can be revived. "she is going to be angry. You won't be there to see it." "she would have gone after them anyway."

(Khonshu abandons Harrow for this, not sure if it was worth it.)

Abdullah is right. Layla does go on a hunt, now as the Wings of Khonshu. Moon Scarab, to the underworld and the rumor mill.

She's mad about everything. Mad that her father presumed she needed saving, mad that she has to listen to an angry bird. (Rage, though it burns hot, always burns out. It's better than the cold certainty of Harrow's punish before wrongdoing. It is worth it.)

(Layla isn't unhinged, she's just gripping very tight to the hinges, thank you for asking.)

Weeks pass and she finds the last person of the mercenary group. A man cuffed to a wheelchair in a psych ward, sedated.

"His mind is fractured. Broken." Khonshu says. "It could be a fitting punishment, to keep him here. His body rotting while his mind spins in fruitless cycles."

"or he could be very good at hiding. One way to find out."

Layla is an excellent forger - a release for the merc, a small flat and money to keep him in town while he recovers from treatment. She feeds him a lie about being a family friend. There's a flicker of distrust.

"I've got a condition - blacking out, memory issues, insomnia - I'll be up reading all night." He says his name is Steven, but she knows better. "Are you sure you want to be flatmates?"

"I have places to be at night." Khonshu flickers the lights.

"Oh. Fine. Night owl, that's...fine."

"Don't worry about the lights, the landlord never answers the calls." don't mind that she's the landlord.

Her coming home with bruises and cuts. Steven flinches, insisting they go out to get bandages because they don't have a proper first aid kit. The awkward stare off with a hurt lady and a nervous guy VS the night shift cashier that's Seen it All. "bar fight. I won." Layla grins, blood on her teeth.

(The little moment where they're close as he's putting a bandage on her nose and being. so. tender. to someone who's never been more than 'distractedly polite' to him. His face changing to something new, something strange and lovely.)

When she finds him hitting himself, it's not that hard for him to explain. "I don't - I don't know if this is real. Jake is very sure you're dead!"

It turns out after the night of the attack, Jake got them far away as possible. He resolved to become a night driver and Steven to keep house in the day. Marc woke up and realized an alter was trying to build a life and just...let them. Better than mercenary work.

Steven gets worried about his missing time and gets therapy...and the therapist realizes, tells them and pushes them too hard to "come together as one whole"...Jake snaps and he's forced into a psych ward.

They cribbed together some form of communication on the psych ward thanks to a different therapist and the other patients. Marc's immense guilt wanted them to stay. But Jake and Steven wanted the body out. If they spent more time in the ward, they might reveal some crimes and the system doubts that they'll be allowed this level of help in a prison.

When Layla arrived to take them, it was an opportunity they didn't want to refuse.

"We don't want to be one person. We want to be ourselves." Steven fully introduces them after that. "We are the Hippo system! Like the Hippocampus of the brain that works with memory - that's Marc - and navigation - that's Jake!" He spells it out, "He Isn't a People Person Otherwise!"

"Who's he?"

Steven shrugs. "I dunno. I'm just here for general life, Jake is here for protection and gossip and Marc...he's well. Not as social as he'd like to be. I'm not supposed to know about it, that's not my "function", as the doc would say but...whatever happened that made us us was too much for one person to bear. It happened before we met you, so it's not your fault."

Layla shrugs. "What can you tell me about that night?"

"I can't tell you. That's part of the point, us being separate and all."

She eventually gets an answer out of them. Layla also lies and says she wasn't as badly hurt as they saw and shows off her Moon Scarab suit with the healing. (Jake accepts that answer at face value. Steven is a little concerned but willing to let it slide. Marc is suspicious.)

Now with their first round of secrets gone, they feel more at home. The Hippo System settles in as a decent partner in her artifact retrieval - he can put his mercenary skills to a good cause and she doesn't have to hide that burning rage as much. (the rage dims, is soothed and that's not good for vengeance.)

Khonshu starts to intrude, making noises about using the Hippo System as his next Avatar. Layla pulls away, tries to keep them apart because she Knows any more pressure on that mind is going to break them apart.

Wendy Spector dies and the Hippo system is thrown out of balance.

(The rage ignites. She's always held it together - her family after her mother died, her composure when people talked over her and her knowledge of Egypt, her home, now the Hippo system. It's always been up to her and she's resigned and vicious and not holding back.)

Layla makes a judgement call and goes after Harrow alone.

The system recovers. Steven now knows why he exists. He does not flinch from Layla's rage, does not fall for Harrow's twisted philosophy, not like Marc or Jake would. He rallies the system to action, to save the world.

Harrow was able to get dirt on Marc's past and tries to kill him with Judgement, but it doesn't work. He reveals about Khonshu, that his partner is lying to him and it does strain the relationship.

Things follow canon. Khonshu gets sealed into stone. Layla dies and Marc blends in as a follower.

Tawaret tries to ask him to be her Avatar, but he refuses. "Do you know what I did as a child to my brother? What my mother did to me over and over for it? Why would you even want me to defend women and children?"

And he releases Khonshu. "Ah. Big pigeon! No wonder Layla was so bloody ready to be rid of you! Get back to her then! Go on!"

And Tawaret comes back. "Temporary Avatar. I don't want any more voices in my head than I started with."

And he becomes Hippo Knight, because why not?

And they win against Harrow and the cult of Ammit. The system helps Layla stop giving into her rage to kill Harrow. Everyone should be able to choose good or evil.

(Steven kept in contact with the patients and nurses in the psych ward. Harrow is preaching violence again and well. He made his choice. Jake drives Layla over to meet with him. Marc holds her tight.)

[blood-feathers]

The journal flips open, as if a phantom hand has gone to read it.

(You flip through the journal, reading through the spy's notes.)

[transcription below]

Notes from Reese's machine

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

Went through machine logs:

Transcripts accurately translate foreign languages

Gabe sucks at keeping secrets as always

Machine takes snapshots from camera instead of recording video (saves storage?)

"Askers" are pushy

Machine creates solid holograms to represent some askers---capable of physically interacting for a moment.

Askers capable of low-level magic---illusions??? Still physical like the "avatars". Imitates taste? Gabe at e a bag of seeds from an asker/didn't note odd taste

Gabe speaks Latin too. Add to list later.

Machine transcribes sensory details other than auditory---i.e. texture

Time passes faster in their reality, unknown how much.

Some askers have name or icon attached to question, others listed as "anonymous"

Machine lists details it should not be aware of in transcripts (self-consciousness, other team) Ask Reese about this

Gabe understands birds? Fucking polyglot

"Ship"=relationship Stupid slang

Gabe/Ray are still sickeningly in love

Askers are very affectionate

"Bushman" = Sniper Aussie slang

They like men in dresses???

Askers like to pick on Gabriel

High emotion interferes with the camera?

Ask for definition of:

Fandom Tumblr Website Internet Feed Baldur's Gate 3

Gabe suspects my fear of doctors

Animals can be askers?

Machine generated correct context to a vague answer---an image of a dog mauling a bird

Gabe fears being eaten---trauma from the mauling?

"Magic anons" are capable of restraining us with manifestations

"Their" RED team:

Scout -- Jeremy

Loud, obnoxious New Yorker Bostonian Possible radiation poisoning from irradiated drink Spy's son, implied drama

Demoman -- Tavish <Finnegan> DeGroot

Scottish alcoholic cyclops Functional while drunk Haunted sword? Chemist Produces alcohol in his body?

Heavy -- Mikhail

Giant russian man Obsessed with gun, "Natasha" "Sasha"

Medic -- (Fritz) Ludwig (?)

Sadistic tendencies ("Funny") Lost medical license Bones their heavy (Implied)

Sniper -- <Michael/Mickey> Mundee Mundee y

Kidney problems---implied jarate pills "Professional", reserved Australian (born NZ)

Spy -- no known name

French cutthroat Apparently has no concept of work clothes Same guy from Vegas???

Engineer -- Dell Conagher

Radigan's grandson? 11 degrees Nice until paid not to be (how familiar) Shortest, not specified how short Trustworthy

Pyro (No specified name)

Subject of the "pyrovision" experiment Identity unknown Never removes suit

Soldier -- "Jane Doe"

They took a man that was too mentally unfit for the trenches and gave him a rocket launcher Fixation on raccoons (don't let meet Mark) Uses a shovel as a bludgeoning tool Friends with their demoman Knows a wizard (Same wizard?)

Askers prone to saying cryptic shit without elaborating

I think they enjoy schadenfreude a troubling amount---turn it off if they get rowdy

We're all fiction to them, may lead to crueler "asks"

[resonmalvo]

My Moon Knight Season 2 ideas cause I lost trust to D+ Marvel TV after Secret Invasion

Oscar Isaac as Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley

Marc trying to have a normal life after the event of last season，but the shadow of Khonshu and the darkness from his past make this difficult.

May Calamawy as Layla El-Faouly

Layla finds herself in a dilemma，whether to become a superhero or just use her new power to do she used to do，and a vengeful force is dragging her back to Marc's life.

LaMonica Garrett as Raul Bushman

A merciless mercenary，one of the cause of Marc's trauma，he and Marc's path are going to be crossed again，and Bushman doesn't mind taking Marc out again if Marc blocks his way to what he wants.

Assaad Bouab as Jean-Paul“Frenchie”Duchamp

Frenchie is an old but estranged friend of Marc and Layla's，Marc felt guilty about him because of the catastrophic events of the past，and they have to reconnect because of an old enemy.

F. Murray Abraham as Khonshu

The God of Moon continues to manipulate Marc，Steven and Jake，but he needs to pay attention to a new supernatural threat

Joe Dempise as Jeffrey Wilde-Mogart

The brother of Anton Mogart，a arms dealer cartel leader in Madripoor，after the death of his brother，the fire of vengeance towards Marc and Layla let him make deals with two dangerous existences，one is a supernatural force，and the other is Raul Bushman

Amirah Vann as Gena Landers

A local cafe owner in London，a good friend of Jake，she's a widow with two kids，and is

currently struggling because of the lease. Jake is trying his best not to involve her into his own mess

Shaun Scott as Bertrand Crawley

A street performer in London，Jake's friend，promise Jake to look out for Steven and Marc when Jake is not in control of the body（and give their information to Jake），he's also a know-it-all，he knows what happened in the underworld of London

Rashida Jones as Dr. Andrea Sterman

Marc's therapist，she cares about Marc a lot，she guides Marc through his entire life trying to find the real cause of his trauma and his personality，she also devoted to build a therapy clinic for people who aren't wealthy enough to get help.

Julianne Nicholson as Scarlet Fasinera

The owner of the shelter where Marc volunteered to help，she's a kind， caring but mysterious woman，offering places for women who can't find a home，she also have many dark secrets from her past.