#but the reporter and investigator who helped bring this to light had their lives ruined

[antoine-roquentin]

Although police departments have become more attentive to officers’ use of excessive force against civilians, the same scrutiny has not been applied to their potential for violent behavior at home. In the nineteen-nineties, researchers found that forty-one per cent of male officers admitted that, in the previous year, they’d been physically aggressive toward their spouses, and nearly ten per cent acknowledged choking, strangling, or using—or threatening to use—a knife or a gun. But there are almost no empirical studies examining the prevalence of this sort of abuse today. Leigh Goodmark, the director of the Gender Violence Clinic, at the University of Maryland’s Carey School of Law, speculates that one reason for the dearth of research is a reluctance to fund a study that will bring attention to an uncomfortable dilemma: that, as Goodmark says, “those policing the crime and those committing it are often the same person.”

At the Griffin Police Department, concerns about domestic violence have apparently been so slight that in 2018 the department hired an officer whose personnel record showed that he had recently been accused by his child’s mother of threatening her with a gun. In many other cities, domestic violence seems to be treated as similarly insignificant. This year, an independent panel found that the typical penalty for New York City police officers found guilty of domestic violence—some had punched, kicked, choked, or threatened their victims with guns—was thirty lost vacation days. In nearly a third of cases, the officers already had a domestic-violence incident—and, in one case, eight—in their records. In the Puerto Rico Police Department, ninety-­eight police officers were arrested for domestic violence between 2007 and 2010; three of them had shot and killed their wives. Only eight were fired.

Last summer, the sheriff of Los Angeles County, Alex Villanueva, articulated a common justification for not con­sidering domestic violence as a concern: in defending his decision to employ a deputy who had been accused of stalking and physically abusing his ex-girlfriend, he told a local reporter that it was “a private relationship between two consenting adults that went bad.” The violence was seen as unrelated to job performance, an activity that could be understood only within the context of a relationship.

But the factors that lead to abuse at home—coercion, authoritarianism, a sense of entitlement to violence—are also present in the work that police officers do on the streets. It should not be surprising that domestic abuse appears to predict excessive use of force—a link that scholars have suggested should alter the way that departments respond to both kinds of aggression. The Citizens Police Data Project, in Chicago, analyzed the records of Chicago cops between 2000 and 2016 and found that officers accused of domestic abuse received fifty per cent more complaints than their colleagues for using excessive force. Philip Stinson, a professor of criminal justice at Bowling Green State University and one of the few scholars who has studied the issue, reached a similar finding: one in five officers arrested for domestic violence nationwide had also been the subject of a federal lawsuit for violating people’s civil rights.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining, 

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!

Taglist Form is in my bio!

Series Masterlist

Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.

“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”

She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.

Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.

“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.

“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.

“What do you mean again?” you ask.

“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”

“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.

“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”

You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.

You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.

There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.

You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.

You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.

The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.

Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.

After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.

He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.

He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.

Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.

“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.

“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.

“No,” Lee scoffs.

“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.

“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.

“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.

“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.

“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”

The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.

“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.

You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.

“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”

“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.

“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”

“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.

“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.

“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.

“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”

“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.

“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.

“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.

Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.

About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.

You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.

His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.

“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”

“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”

“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”

“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”

“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Of course, darling.”

“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”

“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.

Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.

“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”

“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”

“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.

“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.

“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.

Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.

“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”

“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.

“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.

“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”

“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”

He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.

“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.

“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.

“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44  @acciosiriusblack  @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten​ 

[nightingaelic]

POODLES IN THE WASTELAND

i jest I jest

But 👀

What about pets? Either ones companions would have or a very uncommon one that someone wouldn’t think was a good pet, BUT IS. Deathclaws you can ride like a pony, mole rats that want belly rubs, cazadore’s as cattier pigeons! What are your thoughts?

Or like, Danse or Piper or Fawkes with something hilarious Idek ignore me

Oooookay, here’s my comprehensive list of companions - ALL companions, across Fallouts 3, 4, New Vegas and 76 - and their (headcanon) choices in wasteland pets. I’ll give a little explanation for each - particularly as many of these companions are transients and don’t have the luxury of owning a home to keep pets at. Also, I feel like most of the companions, while they might not necessarily like pets, would be somewhat fond or at least respectful of the pets of the Lone Wanderer/Courier/Sole Survivor/Vault Dweller, like Dogmeat and Rex. 

Bighorners

Lily Bowen: Everyone’s favorite super mutant grandma is already an experienced shepherdess in Jacobstown, and she’s more than willing to tear some night stalkers apart to keep her herd safe. If that’s not love beyond the norm for wasteland livestock, I don’t know what is. She’s probably given all of her bighorners names after the characters in the television reruns she used to watch on holotape in Vault 17, like Grace and Audrey and Lucille. 

Brahmin

Raul Tejada: Actually spent a decent part of his pre-war life living on a ranch, so he knows that most brahmin don’t deserve being labeled “irritable” just because people don’t know how to read their body language. I think he’d follow wild brahmin herds around a bit on a whim and keep them from coming to any harm, especially the little ones. He gives them names like the cattle he grew up with, Corazon and Gordo and Blanca. 

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Doesn’t truck with the wild herds, but she knows that part of the success of a caravan lies with how well they treat their pack animals. All of her caravan’s brahmin have names - Penny, Magic and Sprinkles - and she’s careful to pair them up with drivers who are patient and work well with their various personalities. 

Cats

Butch DeLoria: While Butch ultimately decided to leave Vault 101 behind, I don’t think he would ever truly lose his fear of radroaches after what they did to his mom. Having a little friend to warm his bunk in Rivet City and pounce on intruders would probably set his mind at ease, maybe a black tomcat with one ear named Pepper. He might even gift his mom a kitten when he next comes to visit. 

Star Paladin Cross: I don’t think Cross much sees the use of an animal that doesn’t contribute to the community it lives in, like most of the Brotherhood of Steel. Cats, however, are excellent at pest control, even if the rats are bigger nowadays. I think she’d give the resident cats at the Citadel some pets in passing, and she’d smile when she has to extract playful kittens from inside her power armor frame. She’s especially fond of the cat colony’s matriarch, a scarred old tabby named Gemma. 

Curie: Upon her transition into a synth body, Curie is overjoyed with most animals and their new willingness to approach her for attention. She especially loves cats because she can pick them up and better feel their fur and purring. Her favorite cat is an orange stray in Diamond City that she calls Claude. 

Piper Wright: A companion for Nat when she’s out adventuring, an unbiased friend to bounce the latest opinion piece off of before going to print, and a lap-warmer for when you’re typing up the latest article about the exploits of the Minutemen - what’s not to like? The Wright family cat is a slippery, elegant calico named Sugar Bomb. 

Preston Garvey: While the Minutemen forts and settlements definitely lean more toward keeping dogs around for security purposes, I think Preston likes his pets quieter and less likely to bowl you over in excitement. The one most likely to sleep with him in his bunk at Sanctuary is a grumpy gray gentleman named Anchovy. 

Deathclaws

Veronica Santangelo: If anyone is crazy enough to swipe a deathclaw egg from a nest and try to hatch, rear and train a personal killing machine named Izzy, it’s Veronica. This will probably just alienate her from her Brotherhood chapter even more, but I’m sure she would take special care to make sure that her usual Mojave Wasteland haunts take a peek through a scope to see if the approaching deathclaw has a human on its back before taking a shot. 

Dogs

Clover: I don’t think Clover gets out beyond Paradise Falls much, so the only animals she’s used to are the dogs the raiders bring around when passing through. She probably has favorites among the usual visitors and enjoys tossing them bits of meat when she’s allowed to get away from Eulogy and Crimson. If liberated, she’d probably get at least three of her own dogs to watch over her while she sleeps: One small dog to carry with her, a Pekingese or Pomeranian descendant named Coco, and two large dogs to follow through on intimidation and protection, a mastiff named Rock and a Doberman descendant named Roll. 

Jericho: Jericho doesn’t deserve a dog but he’d probably have one around anyway to sniff out caps caches and hidden loot after he’s shot everyone in the vicinity. Some slinky beagle mix named Dewey, probably. 

Fawkes: I don’t think Fawkes would be picky at all about what kind of dog he’d have. He strikes me as the type who would adopt any half-friendly mutt he ran across. I do think he would have a bit of a soft spot for friendlier mutant hounds, though, and maybe view their mutated circumstances as similar to his own. He’d also be absolutely amazing at playing fetch. Just imagine how far he could lob a stick or ball. All of his dogs would have literary names too, like Byron and Agatha and Edgar. 

Craig Boone: Though he’s a bit of a prodigy at sniping, Boone knows his limitations when it comes to spotting hidden enemies on the horizon. I can see him having a hound dog at his side to find the more elusive ones and help him get rid of them faster. Maybe a bloodhound mutt named Bravo. 

Cait: Doesn’t like people, but she adores dogs. Having had the life where she’s been abused, exploited and forced into slavery, she’s keenly aware that those like the ones who took advantage of her treat dogs much the same. She’s very protective of any dog she encounters and is very likely to punch you in the face if you so much as look at one wrong. She’d probably name any pup she adopted Lucky. 

Hancock: Honestly, he’s just a fan of any animal that is happy to hang out with you whether you’re drunk, high, fighting raiders or patrolling downtown Boston. The Goodneighbor strays know him as the guy who always has mirelurk jerky in his pockets. His favorite is a rough-and-tumble, black-and-white spotted cattle dog descendant that he cheekily calls King George. 

Robert MacCready: He’s not quick to trust dogs, but once he’s sure they’re not a threat, they’re one of the few critters around which he’ll relax completely. He’s still a little wary of them around Duncan, but any dog that’s a part of his family is more or less his son’s permanent babysitter. 

Nick Valentine: Dogmeat is also basically his dog. The two have a history of working cases together, with Dogmeat just turning up whenever a trail goes cold and leading Nick to the evidence he needs to reopen his investigation. Nick doesn’t know how or why Dogmeat does it, but he’s not about to ruin a good thing. 

Strong: I don’t think he would turn down a ferocious mutant hound as a friend. He’d probably feed it mole rats and call it something like Killer. 

Foxes

Beckett: This former raider has a love-hate relationship with a fox that keeps going through his trash. He affectionately calls him Lil’ Bastard. 

Sofia Daguerre: Having crashed back to an earth she doesn’t recognize, I think Sofia would be tickled that the foxes of Appalachia have basically stayed the same despite the bombs. I can see her leaving dinner scraps out on her porch for one that she sometimes spots in the foliage, and slowly coaxing the critter to come into the light. She names her Scarlett once she finally convinces her to eat out of her hand. 

Mega sloths

Settler forager: I would not be at all surprised if this man ran into a mega sloth in the Mire and decided to try befriending it. The creature, probably surprised at this old guy’s nerve, decided to accept the handful of leaves he offered and grew slowly more fond of the guy’s persistence. It doesn’t know its name is Fergus but it does know that if a human is wearing overalls, it’s probably not a threat. 

Mole rats

Deacon: Alright, hear me out. Deacon has a fondness for underdogs, and mole rats are about as underdog as they come. I think Deacon thinks these little guys are cute despite their wrinkles and buck teeth, and I think he sees the value in having a tunneling pet that likes to collect shiny things. One of his deep cover hideouts is in an old tunnel system in the northern Commonwealth, where he hangs out with a young mole rat named Henry. 

Owls

Raider punk: This radio operator got wind of an abandoned nest of owlets in Appalachia early on in his career and, being the nearest to the report, decided to rescue the little guys. Now he has three owls that occasionally drop in at his camp to hoot and accept handouts: Nona, Decima and Morta. While he’s still fond of them, he’s usually disappointed that they aren’t the Mothman coming to visit. 

Rad chickens

Yasmin Chowdhury: Ever the opportunistic cook, she picked up the practice of raising chickens from the settlers at Foundation and has four hens of her own: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. The “ladies,” as she refers to them, give her a constant stream of eggs for omelets. 

Ravens

Settler wanderer: This gal has an affinity with birds, who are always on the move like her. She admires their ability to be untethered and let the wind take them far and wide. Nevertheless, she likes to scatter corn when they come close to her on the road, and formed a sort of friendship with a particularly handsome specimen that she calls Tornado. 

Wolves

Old Longfellow: This guy is the epitome of the meme about dads not wanting pets and then instantly falling in love with whatever animal enters their life. He probably found an injured wolf pup in his travels around the island and took pity on it, nursing it back to health in his cabin. It’s still got a bit of a twisted paw, but follows him around and listens like any other dog and answers to the name Lamoine. 

Yao guai

Porter Gage: I bet this guy adopted an orphaned bear cub and raised it by hand. Now it’s so big that even if Gage thinks he’s an easy target for other raiders due to his age, he’s much less likely to get singled out than he thinks because he has a yao guai following him around like a puppy. The bear’s name is Fuzzy Wuzzy. It has no hair. 

No pets, thanks

Charon: Too likely to accidentally wind up in the line of fire. 

Sergeant RL-3: Too easily corrupted by Communist influences. 

Arcade Gannon: Too much time spent getting in your way. 

Codsworth: Too likely to make messes. 

Paladin Danse: Too many wasted resources. 

X6-88: Too much of a liability. 

Ada: Too easy to lose when on the move. 

Solomon Hardy: Too unsanitary. 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Season 2 Summary (Volume 4: Ch 10 - 13)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers from S2 🍒

Along with the update on 3 June 2021, the CN server released a “Plot Review” which contains bullet-point summaries of S2 :>

Volume 3 Summary: here

You receive a name list of people involved in the Evol assassinations, and realise that quite a number of them were participants in the Hunter Game. After considering the significance of this list, you decide to discuss the matter with Victor

With Victor’s prompting, you do a cost-benefit analysis and find that disclosing the document brings greater benefits than disadvantages. However, doing this will make LFG a target of the true mastermind behind the assassination incidents

“After all, he isn’t the only one with a trump card.”

As expected, disclosing the list results in heated debate from various segments of society

While leaving Souvenir one day, the brake of Victor’s car fails to work because someone tampered with it

The two of you have no choice but to speed around the city. Despite it being an incredibly dangerous situation, he remains composed, successfully resolving the issue before him. It’s the first time you realise how skilled Victor is in driving 

After the incident, you track down the person who tampered with Victor’s car, and find that he has been assassinated

Likely sensing your feelings, Victor invites you to the park after work. When you head to the park as arranged, you see his figure from afar as he waits for you

You deliberately send him a text, telling him that you’re still at work. He believes it at first, but reacts soon after. He scans his surroundings, then meets your eyes amongst the crowd

“Childish.”

While taking a stroll in the park, the both of you stop before a tree. A long time ago, Victor had coursed through time and entered the future in order to prove that the future could be changed. Back then, you had engraved your wish. This time, the same words are your source of determination. Next to you, Victor smiles and changes “May everyone be safe and healthy” to “Everyone will be safe and healthy”

When he takes you to the riverside, Victor finally tells you the true reason why he asked you to meet him. He’s currently acquiring businesses related to the “Small Syringes”. He needs this information to be publicly disclosed in order to lure the forces that are lying low to the surface voluntarily. Even though you’re worried, you choose to trust his decision. You volunteer to release this news as it can drum up a large volume of public opinion

Victor looks at you, his expression proud and gentle

"Here’s to a pleasant collaboration.”

After the news is made public, the reputation of LFG suffers a drastic decline as expected

On the surface, your interactions with LFG have lessened. At the entrance of LFG, Victor walks forward amid the remarks and hostility by passers-by. You want to defend him, but reason tells you to stay where you are, and not act impulsively

As your eyes gradually redden, you receive a message from him-

“The weather is pretty nice today.”

Victor’s plan progresses steadily. What you’ve done has also allowed the reputation of Black Swan to rise

Even though the two of you are walking in different directions, you are certain that you’re standing in the turbulent undercurrents together

The director of the hospital whom you once interviewed has discovered a reason for the pathological changes in Evolvers, and has invited you over to talk about it. Unfortunately, a group of Evolver gangsters has suddenly taken the hospital hostage

The STF rushes to the scene quickly. When you hear Gavin’s voice, your heart feels much more at ease

The main plotter, Yang Ping, has held normal civilians as hostages, and requests for a series of provisions to be made for Evolvers, so that Evolvers can have more “benefits”

Struck with an idea, you remain on the scene to assist Gavin at any moment. When he sees you, Gavin understands your intentions despite being worried

The STF receives an order from the higher ups to disregard the lives of the hostages, and go straight to quashing the situation. Gavin openly defies orders, choosing to safeguard the lives of everyone as a priority, and to negotiate with the gangsters

“I’ll take responsibility for all the consequences.”

During the confrontation with Yang Ping, Gavin uncovers Yang Ping’s true motive: to force the STF into harming someone in order to shatter the balance between civilians and Evolvers

Catching Gavin’s hint, you pretend that the negotiation went sour and that Yang Ping had injured you, turning the tides in your favour. After all, you’re simply an Evolver used as a chip in the negotiation. Yang Ping’s claim of “doing things with Evolvers in mind” no longer holds any weight

Because of this, the STF agents are given an opportunity to suppress the gangsters

Everything appears to be wrapped up smoothly, but the director is suddenly shot by a sniper. Yang Ping is also shot

Late at night, you spot Gavin standing below your house, braving the rain

Gavin seems to be experiencing complex emotions. To you, perhaps he was unable to fire every bullet for justice

Sensing that Gavin isn’t simply referring to the incident at the hospital, you tell him that you believe in his judgement

“I’ll find the truth behind this incident.”

Gavin also gives you an incredibly resolute response

A few days later, Gavin seems to have made up his mind. He tells you that he’s investigating an incident called “New Year’s Day Change”, and he needs your help

You agree immediately

Gavin has already contacted a key informant: an old ex-policeman. Because the forces behind the incident are incredibly complicated, he needs you to cooperate with him in putting on an act

“Miss Nox isn’t showing due respect by dampening one’s spirits the moment she enters.”

He needs those people who have been paying close attention to this incident to have a mistaken impression that he’s still searching for the old ex-policeman. In order to protect you, he needs you to leave his side

Gavin will be the target of scrutiny, while the eyes on you will slacken. You’ll use this opportunity to become the mode of communication between Gavin and his informants, safely assisting Gavin in advancing in his investigations

As the final step of this plan, Gavin pushes you off the top of a building

He appears determined in breaking off relations, while you're hesitant and powerless. But the both of you are clear that the plan is going as smoothly as imagined

“I’m the greatest danger.”

You know that Gavin is walking down his path resolutely. And you will naturally want to become the person standing beside him, walking down the same path

Through a report done by a member of Black Swan, you discover that the pathological changes in Evolvers are related to their Evol. You also realise that Helios seems to be investigating this matter

At the same time, Savin tells you that something has happened to Kiro, and he’s in the hospital. You immediately rush over, but you’re told that Kiro doesn’t want to see anybody

Across the door, you tell Kiro that you wish to see him. After a strange silence, he speaks slowly

“Thank you. You can go back.”

Behind the door, only Kiro knows the reason why he’s behaving strangely - due to a sonic bomb, he has lost his hearing

Kiro avoids you for many days, until he organises an exclusive “live concert” for you one evening. The next day, he’s finally willing to meet you. When you see that Kiro doesn't seem to have changed much, you relax a little, despite having many doubts

But in the evening, you receive a statement from him which says he’s “retiring from public life permanently”, and he vanishes

Knowing full well just how much he loves the stage, you decide to keep the matter hidden, attempting to look for him

Unexpectedly, you bump into Helios at the Black Swan building

“The person you’re looking for isn’t here.”

His cold attitude makes you understand that Kiro has turned himself into Helios. He’s hiding from you, and also himself

To have a better understanding of his actions, you look through the clues pertaining to him. When you investigate the Hunter Game again, a stone tablet with the symbol “8″ appears multiple times

In order to carry out a concrete investigation, you return to the forest where you had once participated in the Hunter Game, and search for that stone tablet

The moment you touch it, thorns and thistles grow on the stone tablet, cutting your hand and absorbing your blood. Before you can react, the ground underneath your feet opens. Just as you’re about to fall into the abyss, Helios saves you

Despite being faced with his icy attitude, you attempt to form a partnership with him to explore this place

In the dark, rays of light fluctuate into a message that neither of you can comprehend. 19, an artificial intelligence which remains here, enables you to understand that this place is a historical ruins left behind by the previous civilisation - “Lighthouse”

19 tells the both of you that their world was once as flourishing as it is right now, but it was destroyed. They left the “Lighthouse” behind in hopes of assisting the both of you in preventing the fated destruction

You and Helios also hear about the songs from that generation. Cultures and languages may not be the same, but music can cross barriers

When one song ends, Helios sings that melody in his own way, letting it echo in this time and space

"All of you still exist.”

After leaving the Lighthouse, you tell him that you’re going to continue with the investigations, and use your own method to tell Helios that you’re willing to face him, and would like to carrying out this operation with him. You hope that this time, he can walk towards you voluntarily

After returning, you receive a call from an unknown number

“It’s me.”

In order to investigate the Hunter Game further, you once again participate in the game as a punter

You do your best to search for the stone tablet in this game, but accidentally get targeted by two players. Just as you plan to fight with them, Shaw, whom you haven’t seen in several days, appears from behind you

The both of you cooperate, settling the score with the other two

“Tch. Not even one of you can fight.”

You tell him about the “Lighthouse”. Shaw, who has been researching on the historical ruins, guesses that the venue of the Hunter Game could be deliberately designed to be near the ruins. By using large amounts of Evol energy fluctuations, it could unseal the ruins

While the discussion has signs of a positive outcome, the two of you are still embroiled in the game

Shaw’s conspicuous ranking and high-key thunder and lightning have attracted numerous opponents to him. But with your cooperation, the enemies fail in succession

The metal chain around his neck notifies him that he has advanced into the next round, but he loses consciousness in your arms due to a fever

The youth who usually hangs around Joker appears before you. You use psychological tactics to goad him into sending Shaw to the hospital. On the other hand, you’re taken away by him for breaking the rules of the game repeatedly

When Shaw regains consciousness, he’s unable to contact you. He returns to the antique store, only to see that it has been swallowed up by an abnormal black flame

“Get lost!”

In spite of the firefighters’ obstructions, Shaw makes repeated trips into the shop, “rescuing” the calligraphy and paintings

By the time the fire is extinguished, the antique shop is already half scorched, as though it’s a warning

Based on the youth’s memories, you discover that Joker has once visited the former site of the BS research centre. In order to find out why, you hurry over

You inadvertently find that there’s someone in the archive room. Just as you're feeling tense, your phone suddenly rings - at 2.03pm, an unknown number calls you

The sound exposes you. Taking out a gun, you attempt to warn the person in the building

“I surrender.”

That person turns out to be Lucien, and he's holding a floppy disk in his hand

Lucien explains what he’s doing here, and even demonstrates how you can use the data in the floppy disk

A series of numbers flash on the screen before it turns dark

Having considered that this process of reading data is highly confidential, Lucien notes how they might have been watched earlier, and that it’s better to leave

However, you suddenly feel dizzy. In the next second, you find yourself in the corridor. The door to the archive room is shut tight, and you can’t see Lucien anyway

Even though you’ve clearly set your phone to silent mode, it rings again. The screen shows that it’s 2.03pm. It’s a missed call from an unknown number

Returning to the archive room, it’s as though Lucien didn’t meet you earlier

You surmise that you’re experiencing this for the second time, and Lucien believes you without hesitation, speculating that you might have been in a time loop

Just as he says, whenever a certain amount of time passes, everything returns to 2.03pm

Unexpectedly, but as a matter of course, Lucien believes you every single time. He analyses the situation with you, helping you escape from the time loop

After a few more time loops, Lucien figures out a way to escape

“This time, let me accompany you in jumping out of this looping time.”

Time requires an object of reference. You're at the centre of the time loop circle, and the compass drawing the circle is your phone

Because this phone is special, it doesn’t vanish when you leave it with Lucien. At the same time, in order to measure time, your phone reappears in your hand

Since one object cannot exist in two places at the same time, this results in a contradiction that causes time and space to collapse

The next day, you and Lucien meet along the corridor, and agree to go on a stroll outside

Even though many things are unclear, the radiance of spring before you makes everything seem as though they are going in a beautiful direction. You can’t help but mention the promise you once made with Lucien to fly kites

“Spring may not necessarily arrive at a fixed time.”

In a teasing manner, Lucien says that he isn’t late. You also think that perhaps many things can start afresh

All of a sudden, you feel a severe pain in your chest-

“Now, spring has just begun.”

The words Lucien just said have yet to disperse

At this moment, he’s holding your collapsed form. The only colour in his monochrome world is gradually fading

Volume 5 (Ch 14 - 17): here

More S2 content: here

A detailed translation of Gavin’s part is available here!

[crossedvenom]

if you want to could you write a small little love at first sight trope with bakugou, sero, and denki 😅😘 if you have time and all that ofc !

Yes Ofc I can🖤🖤 I got a little caried away writing these. They longer than expected.

ty for the request (人 ◕ω◕)

_______________________________________________

Bakugo was walking down the halls with his fists balled in his pockets. He was currently resisting the urge to hit something or someone. He doesn’t know why but ever since he woke up it felt like the world was trying to purposefully piss him off.

The hallway was mostly quiet apart from the occasional student passing by. Everyone seemed to be in the lunchroom. The silence did nothing to help the growing rage that was Bakugo. All the silence did was make him think about all that went wrong that day.

First, his alarm didn’t go off so he was late to class, Then “That damn Deku” had the highest test grade in the class for Mr. Cementosss’ idiotic Math test. Whenever Midoriya beat him at anything it was an instant way to sour his mood.

It felt like Kaminari and the rest of the bunch were more annoying than usual. They kept on bugging him about meeting this general studies student. He doesn’t know who they were and he doesn’t really care. But if he didn’t show up Racoon eyes would never let him hear the end of it.

So here he is walking to the general studies classroom with a pounding headache to meet up with everyone. He’s just going to drop in, cram his lunch down, and leave.

He slowly slid the door open but you guys were so rowdy and loud that you didn’t even notice him step in. He absentmindedly started looking for this mystery person and he almost immediately found them.

It’s cringey for him to even say this but the world almost seemed too slow. He felt his fists unclench and he couldn’t even hear the hammering in his head. He just stood there like a dope staring at you. You were laughing and messing around with the rest of the group.

There were a few rays of sunlight that seemed to leak past the barely open curtains and reflect off of your skin. Making it seem like you were glowing.

‘what was he mad about earlier?’ He can’t seem to remember.

I’m that moment to Bakugo he found something that seemed untouchable, you seemed untouchable. He wouldn’t know he was experiencing love for the first time. at least not yet.

He starts to walk towards you the group.

“Kachan!” Denki slaps him on the back as he walks past. Bakugo didn't even yell at him like he usually did when Denki used that stupid nickname on him he just sat down.

 He didn’t listen when Mina was asking everyone if they wanted to go to the mall this weekend or when Denki was talking about new video game releases. He was just zoned in on you.

He’ll figure out why his hands suddenly get so sweaty when you’re around and why he has the sudden urge to impress you eventually.

And when he does it’s like a “Well Shi-“ kinda moment. He’ll love you in his own way. Insults and spicy food:)

——————————————————————————

“Man, what happened to the weather?” Sero stuck his hand out from under the bridge he was taking shelter under and into the pouring rain. “And it was such a beautiful day too..” 

He decided that he had a long enough break. So he pushed some wet strands of hair back and put his helmet back on. It was his third month of becoming an official sidekick. He had graduated from Yuuei a few months prior and was finally out on the field known as the Taping hero ‘Cellophane’  

Slinging around he was surveying the area but it seemed like he was on autopilot. He was just waiting for the time he could go back to the agency and dry off. His patrol ended in an hour or so.    

he was pulled out of his trance when he heard giggling. 

‘That's weird’ he thought and began to move in the direction where it came from 

It wasn't a creepy laugh but he usually heard the silent curses of people trying to get out of the rain. So obviously when he heard this he had to investigate. That's when he came across you. 

You were one of a kind for sure. While others seemed to curse at the sky or let the gloomy weather ruin their entire day you seemed to bring joy out of it. Wearing a big smile and absolutely soaked to the bone, you tilted your head back and stuck your tongue out trying to catch a raindrop in your mouth. 

Sero’s eyes widened in amusement watching this adult do something so childlike. He started to take in your appearance. The wet strands of hair sticking to your face and the drenched clothes clinging to your body. He felt the chill of the rain leave his body. It was replaced with a sense of ease 

He could have sat there all day if he hadn't noticed your now paranoid behavior you were looking around franticly like you were looking for something. 

Little did he know you were actually looking for him. Not specifically but you had felt a pair of eyes on you and the feeling of being watched was not a comfortable one. You went to pick up your bag and head home.

Sero noticed you were about to leave, he didn't want you to leave  

This was his sign to make a move and stop gawking, he at least needed to know your name. Just about the moment that he was about to swoop in and introduce himself, there was a distant ‘boom’

His head flung around and saw a large cloud of dust not too far from here. Police sirens could already be heard. He looked from you to the obvious sign of a villain attack. 

He debated whether or not to head into the fight a little bit later. Surely there was plenty of other hero's to help. All he needed was a couple minutes to say “H-

No

He had a job to do he would worry about finding you later. Before he could talk himself out of it, he forced himself to drag himself towards the danger and away from you. 

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

Hours had passed and everything had finally settled down the villain was in custody and he had finished his report and could clock out. The villain had a water quirk and was using the stormy weather to his advantage. 

But that wasn't important even though he was exhausted from a long day he had to go back to that park. A hope within told him that you had stayed there, that he still had a chance to introduce himself.

But by the time he had arrived at the park.

You were already long gone.

——————————————————————————

Denki finally turned off his consul and crawled into bed. He plugged his phone in and looked at the clock

2:34AM

Wow...he’s in bed earlier than last night!

He can’t help it though he met an online friend a couple months ago and ever since his sleep schedule hasn’t been the same. He’ll get on at 8 and say he’s going to go to bed before 11 but when he sees you join the party...A couple more minutes won’t hurt? But who is he trying to kid? The minutes turn into hours but it doesn’t feel like it. Not with you at least

He doesn’t even need to look at you to know that you’re someone special. You guys are best friends. He thinks about you in class, at lunch. Bakugos threatened to rip his lips off because he talks about you so much.

So he can’t help but smile and feel giddy when he recalls his earlier conversation with you.

“There’s a new Arcade opening up near my house and I wanted to go with some friends but they don’t exactly enjoy those kinda things” you spoke into your headset half asleep.

“Oh really? Funny cause there’s also a new Arcade opening up a couple blocks down from my school.” He’s half brain dead as well not putting much thought into it.

“Yeah, It’s a cheesy name like Austin’s Arcade. It apparently has like Go-Karts and Roller skating-“

“Oh the place that’s opening up near me is also called Austin’s....”

“.....”

“....”

If you guys weren’t awake before you sure are now.

“Holy crap! Wait you live near me! We should totally go together!”

“Yeah!”

Denki was smiling like an idiot after months of endless late-night talks and getting to know each other. He’s finally going to be able to see you.

——————————————————————————

He was walking down the street glancing up from his phone every now and then to make sure he didn’t run into anything. Many times he debated whether or not to turn back he was so nervous but he didn’t know why.

You were so easy to talk to and he was so comfortable around you so he didn’t get why the closer he got to the Arcade the faster his heart seemed to speed up. And why was he constantly checking his reflection in shop windows to make sure he looked alright. He’s never cared about these types of things before.

This was his last turn and then he would be able to see you. It's not like he hasn’t seen pictures of you but something about the real thing is different.

He quickly typed “here🕺” and sent it to and then put it into his pocket. He looked around for you and there he saw you, you were standing just outside the entrance cluelessly looking around for him in the busy crowd.

He tried to step forward to go talk to you but he just took a moment to take you in and admire the view. The light breeze was blowing and just barely moving your hair. It was the perfect day for this clear sky and warm weather that seemed to envelop him in a hug and it smelled like the many food carts and stands on the street. It was busy since it was opening day. But even with all these people, you seemed to stick out from the crowd to him.

But then you spotted him. Making eye contact, your (E/C) eyes seemed to take his breath away. The small smile that overtook your mouth when you saw him make Denki’s heart do flips. He was definitely blushing just barely though Denki knew how to keep it cool.

You picked up your bag and waved him over. He caught his breath and began to walk towards you. He had a smile on that could put All Might's signature smile to shame. He stepped in front of you

“Hi I’m Denki”

You giggled “it’s so weird not hearing your gamer tag”

And the day begins...

[robinsdearest]

Ketchup Packets

Tim Drake x Reader

Peanut Butter and Oreos (Part 1) They’ll be okay (Part 2) Bobby pin (Part 3) Ketchup Packets (Part 4)

Tim threw another piece of notebook paper into the trash. It hit the other balls of wadded up notes and bounced away. How long has he been hunched over his desk? Tim glanced up to look at the clock. A couple days, maybe. A couple hours since the last cup of coffee, definitely. He groaned and slid a hand across his face. Stubble scratched his fingertips.

Jason’s voice almost scared him. Almost. “Timmy, my dude, you have to stop working.” He kept scribbling as Jason walked over to lean against the wall adjacent to the crumbling despair that was Tim. Jason poked his face. “I didn’t even know you could grow facial hair.” Tim slapped his brother’s hand away and continued to write his notes down. 

It had been three months since your plane went down. Three months since your parents had died. Three months since you slipped through Tim’s fingers. He dove into work to try and figure out what happened the morning of your plane crash. He hasn’t stopped working to find you in three whole months.

Parts of your plane sat scattered around the BatCave. Background checks for everyone at the airport that day, the days before and after laid loosely on the ground by Jason’s feet. Everything and everyone was clean. The owner of the plane your group borrowed publicly stated there was a fuse shortage in the engine causing it to explode, and subsequently, sent your plane barreling down into the ocean. News reporters claimed everyone from that flight deceased- the five supposed survivors not even missing anymore, all reported to be lost at sea. But Tim knew better- he knew you were alive. He knew it, had this gut feeling. Bruce always told him to trust his gut. Or did Superman say that? No, it was definitely the main bat. Or was it Diana…

Jason whacked the back of Tim’s head. Tim finally looked up at the Red Hood, scowling. Jason had to bite back a laugh: he knew how much pain Tim was still experiencing. Hell, he was dead for a while and no one bothered to search for him like Tim was doing for Y/N. “Come on man, let’s go get some grub. You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

“Only a day.” Tim corrected. Another whack to the back of the head.

With the drive from the mansion into Gotham City and eventually to some burger joint, Tim couldn’t believe he was wasting time when he should be out searching for you. Even after three whole months of investigating, Tim was still coming up short. Every lead finished with a dead end. Every tangent lead to a backwash story that was publicized to explain the crash. Tim stared down at his tray of fries as Jason flirted with the cashier. Tim sorted through the files of his brain as he continued to work each angle of the investigation. Everything fit together but nothing made sense. Jason flung packets onto the table stirring Tim out of his trance. Jason was flaunting how he got a phone number from the cashier and waved around the receipt where it was written. Tim stared down at the packets on the table. Ten- what an odd number to grab. Tim counted five mustard packets and five ketchup packets. Tim reached for a ketchup packet, grimacing when he picked up the one that was busted open leaking on to the table. Of course he would grab the one that…

Tim immediately shot up and grabbed Jason by the collar. Jason choked on his bite of food as he dropped the rest of his burger. “Oi, dunce face, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jason fumbled into the passenger seat of the car as Tim shoved him forward, sprinted around to the driver side, and then started the car. Tim started rambling. Jason had a hard time keeping up.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” “Think of what? How you ruined my burger?” “Of course I wouldn’t have looked into the victims.” “Me. I’m a victim, you burger murderer.” “All of those doctors, all seemingly connected in one way or another.” “Doctors?” “Doctors, Jason! God, I’m an idiot. The one that wasn’t connect has got to be the leak. The leak that doesn’t fit but allows everything to make sense.” “Alright, I’m calling Alfred. Timmy, we need to get you checked out.”

Tim slammed on the breaks at the red light. The two brothers stared at each other, neither one moving. The light turned green, but Tim didn’t accelerate.

“Jason I’m talking about Y/N.” Jason’s face turned into a serious frown, and Tim continued. “I never looked into the doctors that were supposed to go on the mission trip. How could they be considered suspects when we see them as victims?” Tim held up the leaking ketchup packet. “One of them is the leak, the cause of the problem.”  Jason’s lips turned into a snarky grin. He nodded his head towards the direction of the mansion, and Tim turned his eyes back to the road.

He finally figured it out. He was going to find you. His brain went into overdrive back at the cave. Jason called Damien and Dick down to help sort things out as Tim furiously worked into the rest of the night. The other boys made calls and printed papers as Tim searched through all ten people on your flight. 

Tim had to narrow down who he couldn’t verify. Nine doctors and one medical school student. Seven doctors, excluding both your parents. Five, excluding the other doctors he knew personally. Four, excluding the doctor Bruce dated a while back- the Russian one, he thinks as he scans over her name. Three left. Damien drops a stack of files next to Tim. The youngest brother briefly puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder before quickly withdrawing and returning to Dick’s side. A quick scan of the discarded stack reveals two of the last three doctors had confirmed deaths, dental records verifying their respective bodies at the site of the plane crash. One left.

Tim stopped typing. Bruce walked down the stairs and stood next to the oversized computer; the main bat was dressed in the suit, cowl pulled off, ready to go on patrol. He glanced around the room to his birdies, and lastly his eyes fell on Tim. Red Robin stared at the screen as the last doctor stared back at him. Tim found his ketchup packet.

Shawn Ramirez. A plastic surgeon from Metropolis- invited to the mission by Mr. Y/L/N. Ramirez was born in Washington and had only lived in the big city for four years: most recent addresses put him in Texas, and before that California. Before California, he moved internationally to practice medicine in Africa. More specifically, Ethiopia. Where the mission was planned to go. Where Y/N was supposed to be. 

Ramirez had worked for the Ethiopian military; a surgeon who traveled the continent looking to heal. At some point in time, Ramirez had visited Europe with the military. No less than a week later, Ramirez was back in the states working as a plastic surgeon. What happened in Europe?

Dick handed Bruce a stack of files. Looking through them, Bruce’s frown turned ever so slightly down. Bruce then handed the files to Tim, who spared a quick glance at Batman before turning his attention down to the file. Flipping through the papers, Tim froze at the known associate. Part of the League of Assassins known to the world only as Abadi- an elitist who weaseled through militaries and governments for fame and fortune in the name of Ra’s al Ghul. Abadi was a known villain amongst the bat and birds as Bruce is the one that nearly took the man’s eye out, leaving a gashing scar from eyebrow to chin, forcing the villain to wear an eye-patch. Abadi’s last known location was a small island off of Cape Verde, just a couple hundred miles from the plane’s crash landing.

Tim turned the chair around to see the rest of the family dressed in their suits: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Cass, Damien, and even Alfred. Alfred held out Tim’s Red Robin costume. “Master Tim.” Alfred was the first one to speak in hours since Tim and Jason returned home from the burger shop. “Please bring them home.” Tim reached for the suit, but was met by Alfred’s hand. The butler squeezed his fingers, and Tim simply nodded in understanding. The group hustled to the Bat Plane; inside, Batman ordered the birds for flight paths, site takeover analysis, and rescue plan. Tim sat at the back of the plane while the others worked. Tim was going to go save you, he was finally going to be able to tell you. And then, like a light switch, everything turned bright.

[kilesplaysthings]

i made a part 2~ :3

How the Comte Fell in Love with Death

Part 2: The House in the Woods

The rumors were not that far off the mark, apparently. Comte thought as he stared in mild awe at the manor house that loomed before him amidst the shadows of the surrounding forest. It was just as everyone had said: the manor was dark and decrepit with ivy creeping up its walls. The shutters were drawn, the garden and lawn were overgrown with weeds and other dry brush. The front porch steps were broken, paint was chipped everywhere and pillars were rotting through. A feeling of decay emanated from the whole estate.

“Looks abandoned. We sure anybody’s living here?” The coachman asked, shooting his employer a skeptical look.

“That is to be decided,” The Comte said. He gingerly walked through the overgrown lawn and approached the front porch of the house. The place certainly looked like it could be haunted – a far cry from the elegance and opulence of his own mansion.

There was still a door knocker – a rusted thing that peeled at the slightest touch. He used it to knock on the door. Even from outside, he could hear the sound echo through the house inside.

A minute passed. Then another. Comte waited. Others may have chalked the rumors up to being just rumors, that this house was simply an abandoned ruin, but his heightened senses told him no. Someone was here.

Finally he could hear someone shuffling through the house and towards the door. It then opened slightly with quite the audible creaking of old wood and rusted hinges. He could barely glimpse a brown eye peeking warily out at him through the crack.

“Who is it?” A voice whispered.

Comte met the nervous gaze and smiled.

“Is the lady at home?”

He could see the eye narrowing. The door did not open further.

“Who wants to know? Why are you here?”

“I am the Comte de Saint-Germain, and I am here to introduce myself to the lady of the house.”

At that, the door suddenly opened more to the point that he could see the person who had answered him. Standing before him was the bent figure of an older woman. She was dressed in the black dress and cap that signified she was a housekeeper. Her face was pale and wrinkled, lines of care etched on her forehead and around her mouth and eyes. She glowered at him, but the Comte’s sixth sense could tell she was not a cruel person.

“How did you know that a lady lives here? Are you here to nose around like all the other busybodies that have come ghost hunting?” She asked sharply.

“Believe me, I am not here to snoop or pry. I only wish to meet her.”

The housekeeper stared at him warily. Then she tilted her head.

“Hm. You don’t seem to be like the others. That’s all you want to do? Meet her?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re not some investigator or reporter trying to catch a story for a paper or anything?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I have no sinister intentions.”

She took a deep breath. “Come in. I’ll see if she will agree to meet you.”

He thanked her. The door opened wider for him and he stepped inside to the foyer. The house was a little tidier on the inside than on the outside, but everything was dark; quite dark. The widows were shuttered and the curtains drawn. The only light was from a small fire in the nearby fireplace. In the dim light, he could perceive a few pieces of furniture covered over by sheets. They cast shadows on the walls and he could glimpse peeling wallpaper as he looked around.

“Forgive the lack of proper light or furniture, but I’m only one housekeeper. And as you can see, we aren’t accustomed to entertaining guests.”

Comte shook his head graciously. “Do not worry. I’m happy to be standing after a long carriage ride.”

“Is that right? Well, you can warm yourself by the fire while you wait. I’m sure you must be chilled if it’s as cold out there as it is in this drafty house.” She remarked. “I won’t be long.”

And with that, she lit a candle that she took from a candle holder on the mantlepiece and made her way up the shadowy staircase. It wasn’t long before her black dress faded into the darkness and out of his sight.

The house was so quiet to the point that he could hear the rustling of her skirts and her footsteps upon the wooden floor from above. As he warmed his hands, he listened to her walking to the far left until she suddenly stopped. He then heard her quietly knocking on a door before opening it.

He took a deep breath and stared into the small fire. He wondered if the housekeeper had only just lit it now for him. Looking around, he could tell that everything was dark and dank and dusty. He couldn’t imagine any lady living like this. Not only that, he could also sense something hovering in the air. It was something oppressive and foreboding. No doubt it had to do with the lady that he had come to see. He had to do something about her.

Soon, he could once again hear the housekeeper upon the stairs. Glancing her way, he spotted her on the stair, five steps above him. She peered down at him in the light of the flickering fire, still holding the lit candle.

“She’ll see you,” she said quietly.

“Thank you. After you,” he replied.

With a sniff, the lady turned and led him upstairs. The corridor on the second floor was even darker than the foyer, for there was no fire to guide their way. Even someone like him had to keep his eyes on the candle held by the lady in front of him to see. As he walked down the hall with the housekeeper, he felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy for this lady who lived here. To be so ostracized from the world, with only one companion, dwelling in the dark; how lonely she must be! The more he thought about her situation, the more eager he was to meet her.

The two of them stopped at a door near the end of the hall. The housekeeper opened the door and signaled him to follow her inside. They were in what seemed to be a bedroom suite. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was dimly lit. The shutters were open for the windows to let in a little bit of sunlight that shone through faded curtains. There were still sheets covering all of the furniture, but the area had definite signs of cleanliness unlike the rest of the house.

“Give me a minute,” the older lady said as she set the candle down on a nearby mantlepiece.

She then tugged the sheets off of a table and two chairs and invited him to be seated. As he sat down, he watched her go over to a door at the far end of the room and quietly knock on it. Comte assumed it led to the lady’s bedroom. A soft voice spoke and the housekeeper quickly entered the inner room. As he sat there, he could hear two women’s voices speaking softly to one another. Suddenly the door opened again.

A lady dressed all in black stepped out of the room. Her pale face was barely visible behind a veil of black lace and even her hands were covered by black gloves. She slowly approached him, walking with a natural grace that almost looked like she glided across the floor. Comte watched her, standing up politely to greet her. They made quite the pair: a figure all dressed in golds facing a figure all dressed in black.

“Rebecca says you wished to meet me,” she spoke in a soft voice.

“Yes, and it’s a pleasure. I am known as the Comte de Saint-Germain.”

She stretched out a gloved hand to invite him to sit back down. He could feel her watching him even though he couldn’t see her eyes very well.

“A Comte, is it? May I ask the reason for this visit, Sir? I don’t get many visitors, as you can guess. At least, none of the good kind."

"I have no particular reason. I just wished to meet you.”

The lady in black sighed. “You’ve heard all of the rumors, haven’t you?”

“I will not lie to you. I have heard one or two.”

“No doubt people claim I’m some evil spirit who haunts this place that curses anyone who tries to get a glimpse of me,” was her snide remark.

“I have heard something of the like, but it wasn’t because they said you were a ghost that I came here. I knew for a fact that you weren’t a ghost.”

There was a pause.

“You knew, did you? How?”

“May I ask this first? Are the other rumors true that you kill any living thing you touch?”

Another pause. The housekeeper, who was bringing in some tea, gave the lady a nervous glance.

“Did you come for a show? Is that why you’re here?” She asked in a low voice.

“Not exactly.”

“Because there’s nothing here I can show you. I’m not some trained monkey from a circus who will do a trick for a reward.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Comte answered quietly.

“I could do it, you know. One touch from me, and you’d be dead.”

She was threatening him, no doubt to scare him away. He merely smiled at her serenely.

“That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. How long have you had this, shall we say, ability?”

“How long?” She repeated, confused.

“Yes. You weren’t born with this ability, I’m sure.”

“No…” She spoke in a hushed voice. “I was not…” Shaking hands took hold of her teacup. Comte watched her as she lifted her veil slightly to bring the cup to her pale lips.

“I’m curious about another thing. Pardon my rudeness, but how old are you?”

She hesitated. “One and twenty.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And how long have you been one and twenty?”

“Look here, just what are you getting at?” Rebecca, the housekeeper, interjected defensively.

“I assure you, I mean your lady no harm.” He continued to speak calmly and softly. “I’m here because I suspected foul play on your lady’s behalf and now that I’ve met her, I can definitely sense something dark hovering around her.” He glanced at the veiled lady across from him.

“And I want to help you.”

“Help me? How could you help me?” She wondered despairingly.

“You want to know how I got like this? Fine, I’ll tell you! It was a witch! She cursed me and tormented me and my family! We were all alone, cut off from the rest of society, and she preyed on us like a beast. I don’t know why she hated me, but she put this curse on me and made my life a living hell!

‘Your family will abandon you and the world will hate you. You shall no longer be able to enjoy the caresses from loved ones, for you will take their life!’ And ever since then, from that cursed autumn in 1612, I’ve been like this.”

She gripped her teacup and bowed her head. Comte could see her shoulders quivering.

“I was fine with it at first, completely focused on staying away from people so I wouldn’t kill anyone or be attacked by anyone. But that witch also cursed me with a long life and eventually, cutting myself off from everyone and everything became… so lonely. If not for Rebecca, I feel I would have gone mad.”

“My lady…” The housekeeper uttered softly, tears in her eyes.

“I have been through many hardships. I have lost almost everything. How exactly do you think you can help me?” She continued, gazing at her guest, now more bewildered than angry.

“So it was a witch?” Comte muttered to himself. He took a deep breath and spoke to her in a firm voice.

“I will help you find the one who cursed you.”

The ladies gasped.

“How? It was so long ago, and she’s a witch! Even if she’s still alive, how do you think you’ll be able to find her? And even if you do, what would you be able to do about her?”

“Do not fret. I have my ways.” He suddenly smiled. “You are a human than has been cursed severely. But I am not a mere human.”

The Comte stood tall and strong. He gazed at the lady with gleaming eyes.

“I knew there was something odd about you..” Rebecca whispered. “I said as much to her before you came up here..”

“I will reiterate, I mean no harm,” Comte said to the nervous Rebecca. The lady, on the other hand, sat in her chair unmoving. Whether she was scared or not, he wasn’t quite sure.

“Perhaps it is not my business, but I am very fond of humans and I do not like to see their lives toyed with like this. I have heard your plight and I want to help you. Will you come with me?”

“Come with you?” She quietly repeated. “To where?”

“I have a mansion. It is located not too far from here. It is well furnished and well kept, unlike this run-down house. I am inviting you to stay there. If you agree, I promise you, you will be well-cared for. You will want for nothing, and I will protect you.”

“You..!” Rebecca wanted to speak, but she found that she couldn’t think of the right words to say.

“Why should I come with you?” The lady demanded. She had set her teacup down and her gloved hands clutched the skirts of her dress.

“Are you trying to play the Good Samaritan? I don’t care who or what you are. I don’t need your pity!”

“It is true. My heart does pity you. It aches for you. To be so alone, all these years…”

Comte spoke in a low voice, and as he spoke, he approached her slowly.

“W-what are you..? Sir! You must take care!” Rebecca exclaimed as he walked towards the seated woman. She was about to dart over and grab his arm, but with one sharp glance from him, she froze.

He walked around the table to the lady’s chair and the lady in question stayed rooted to her seat. She knew if she made any quick movements, she could accidentally touch either one of them and they would die. Suddenly, with a dart of his arm, he gripped the back of her chair and leaned down until his face was leveled with hers.

The lady gasped in shock. “You’re too close!” She hissed.

“Tell me,” Comte murmured. “What is your name?”

His other hand held a teaspoon and he lifted it to her veil. It slipped in between the lacy fabric and he used the spoon to lift it up until her face was revealed. He was now gazing upon a pale, heart-shaped face that was petite and fair, with prominent cheekbones and a celestial nose. Long lashes framed a pair of wide eyes of a most unusual color: crimson.

She was beautiful.

“What..?” She muttered. He had asked her a question, but it hadn’t registered.

“Your name, Cherie. What is your name?” His voice was low and smooth; soft and beckoning. It was easy to be entranced by him.

“It is…Sabrina.”

“Sabrina.” He tested her name on his tongue. He liked the way it sounded.

“Quite beautiful. Like your eyes. Such beautiful eyes – the color of blood.”

A surprising faint blush appeared on her pale cheeks as he spoke. He was so close to her, but she still could not move or take her gaze off of his own golden eyes.

“Sir, please!” Rebecca finally exclaimed, frightened for her mistress. “Please be mindful of my lady’s boundaries! For your sake and hers!”

He finally broke his piercing gaze and straightened back up to look at the housekeeper.

“My apologies if I frightened you both. What I said, I said in earnest. I do wish to help you. You need not fear me.” He stepped away from the table and chairs and both ladies let out shaky breaths.

“I will show myself out. If I may be so bold, please consider my invitation Miss Sabrina. I won’t force you to make up your mind right away, but I will be back to visit. I look forward to seeing you again.”

And with a smile, he opened the door and left, making his way downstairs in the dark and back outside.

Rebecca heaved a sigh and leaned against the empty chair. “What an odd fellow. He doesn’t seem vicious, but he said he wasn’t exactly human… I can’t help but worry. Wouldn’t you agree, my lady?” She asked as her mistress slowly got up and stared out of one of the windows. It faced the back of the house, overlooking nothing but weeds and the forest beyond. She couldn’t see the man leave, but she heard the carriage ride away.

She placed a shaking hand against the window pane and stared bleakly out to the trees beyond. His invitation was sincere, she could tell. The thought of leaving this old house filled her with hope, but at the same time, she had no idea who this Comte really was. Could she truly trust him?

[victorious1956]

My RWBY Fic List

A quick recap of where we're at before IronQrow Week starts.

Here is my updated list. These are all Fair Game focused, unless otherwise indicated.

AO3 rating shown after each title.

Recently posted/updated:

Love, Betrayal, and All That Follows (M)

When your day job is trying to save the world, the idea of discovering love along the way doesn't enter your head. So when Qrow finds himself in Atlas, dealing with love is as unexpected as the betrayal that follows. Ongoing 26/? chapters 76,566 words

Love Enough For Three (M)

Qrow/Clover/James in various permutations Qrow blames both himself and James for Clover's situation. James blames himself too, for that and also for almost everything else that has happened. Maybe the three of them, together, can find the peace which they—and everyone else—deserve. Ongoing 6/? chapters 12,222 words

Numerically Speaking Series

A series of (mostly) unconnected short stories, prompted by the numbers 1 to 10. Ongoing Part Nine: Nine Visitors (G) Qrow and Clover invite family and friends to their home on Patch for a house-warming gathering. 1 chapter 4,032 words

Vicky's OT4 Story Series (T)

Five linked pieces for Iron Dragon's Charms Week. Or, how Qrow, Clover, James, and Taiyang got together. Completed

The Parent-Teacher Association (T)

Qrow/Taiyang When Yang is involved in yet another playground fight, her teacher has to deal with her equally combative parent. Can Qrow and Tai go beyond their mutual antipathy to reach a more harmonious association? 1 chapter 5,154 words

Northumbrian Treasure (T)

Qrow/Clover/James Earl Clover Ebisson was no stranger to the shores of Northumbria— he and his warriors had taken many slaves on their previous raids. This time, the treasure the earl seized would prove more precious than he realised. 1 chapter 4,159 words

Three Hot Men (T)

Qrow/Clover/James A house out in the country should be the perfect place for a short break from the rigours of work. If only they could get the heating to function properly... 1 chapter 2,068 words

Take My Hand (M)

Marrow/Jaune Marrow and Jaune know their relationship is something special... something more than either has known before. They decide they both want to take it further, but is it too soon for Jaune? 1 chapter 2,517 words

Better The Second Time (M)

The first time is special. The second, even more so. 1 chapter 2,552 words

The King, the Knight, and the Dragon (T)

Qrow/James/Taiyang Sir Qrow is the most accomplished knight at the court of King James. When he is sent to investigate reports of a dragon bothering some of the king's subjects, the unexpected outcome will touch the lives of several people at court. 1 chapter 7,567 words

Heal My Heart (T)

Qrow/Taiyang Qrow and Clover are getting on well, both at work and away from it. Each wonders where this slow dance might lead... until an accident sends Qrow away, to be healed in more ways than one. 1 chapter 6,246 words

Learn to Love Again (M)

As Qrow refuses to acknowledge he is struggling with the consequences of quitting drinking, his relationship with Clover begins to founder. When things are at their bleakest, James does what he can to help. 1 chapter 5,539 words

A Hope That Waits In The Dark (T)

Clover/James Everyone is beautiful in the dark. James knew the old saying well. He wondered if anyone could ever find him beautiful in the light of day. 1 chapter 1,339 words

Flightless (G)

The war is drawing to a close, and Qrow is flying back to Atlas after a successful mission. When his flight ends abruptly, little does Qrow know that one aspect of his life has now changed forever. 1 chapter 4,860 words

Older fics below cut

A Fair Game Rainbow Series

A series of eight unconnected short stories, prompted by the colours of the rainbow. Because why not 🌈🙂 Completed Part One: Red (G) As their first Valentine's Day approaches, Clover wants to surprise Qrow with a small, yet thoughtful, gesture. 1 chapter 1,201 words Part Two: Orange (T) Qrow and Clover finally get some time off work together, and decide to take a short vacation. 1 chapter 1,384 words Part Three: Yellow (T) Breaking the ice with a shared DIY task? It's more likely than you think. 1 chapter 1,220 words Part Four: Green (T) An unexpected visitor on board the United Star Ship Atlas proves unsettling for Lieutenant Clover Ebi. 1 chapter 2,806 words Part Five: Blue (G) It's Clover's birthday, and for the first year in a long time, he's going to celebrate. He just doesn't know it yet. 1 chapter 2,218 words Part Six: Indigo (T) All Qrow needs is a good night's sleep. All Clover wants is to help him get one. 1 chapter 1,697 words Part Seven: Violet (M) Qrow's misfortune makes itself felt at a most inopportune moment. 1 chapter 1,233 words Part Eight: Rainbow (G) If Qrow had been offered his heart's desire years ago, he doubts he would have thought of wishing for what he has now. 2 chapters 2,420 words

Clover Ebi: Ace Operative Series

A short series looking at how a Fair Game relationship might work, if Clover were asexual. Completed Part One: Best of Friends (T) Qrow and Clover find they have more in common than they first thought. 1 chapter 4,158 words Part Two: Lines of Communication (G) Clover can't help fretting, which almost spoils a special day. 1 chapter 2,971 words Part Three: Part of You (M) Being together for a year is a good reason to celebrate, but things don't quite go according to plan. 1 chapter 2,433 words Part Four: Now and Always (T) Qrow and Clover take the next step. 4 chapters 7,857 words

Early Days Series

A series of short fics which follow Qrow and Clover as they become more friendly, leading into the start of a deeper relationship. Completed Part One: Window 1, Bird 0 (T) Qrow has a spot of bad luck. Fortunately, someone is looking out for him and is able to help. 1 chapter 1,481 words Part Two: Iron, Qrow (G) Qrow gets some unexpected domestic advice. 1 chapter 1,118 words Part Three: Search and Retrieve Mission (T) Clover suffers a loss, but Qrow is able to help. 1 chapter 1,267 words Part Four: By the Book (G) Clover finds a way to say thank you. 1 chapter 1,462 words Part Five: A Bird in the Hand (G) An afternoon of avian exploits, and a reminder of Clover's past. 1 chapter 1,993 words Part Six: Good Hair, Bad News (T) Time to trim those untidy feathers. 1 chapter 1,702 words Part Seven: Enable Cookies (G) Qrow is in need of inspiration. Lucky for him, Clover is on hand to supply it. 1 chapter 1,959 words Part Eight: Fever Pitch (G) Qrow gets an opportunity to demonstrate his bedside manner. 1 chapter 1,859 words Part Nine: The Last Dance (T) A celebratory night out for everyone gives Qrow and Clover a chance to get closer. 1 chapter 1,633 words Part Ten: Reggie's Diner (G) Finally. A kiss. 1 chapter 1,674 words

Fair Game Weekend 2020 Series

3 fics for Fair Game Weekend, 2nd-4th October 2020. Completed Part One: Good For The Soul (G) After arriving in Atlas, Weiss initiates a plan to help the new hunters and the Ace Ops get to know each other better. The outcome, in one way at least, is more successful than even she expected. 1 chapter 4,075 words Part Two: Chasing This Starlight (T) After resolving their difficulties and deciding they want to be together, Qrow finally joins Clover on the USS Atlas. 1 chapter 2,046 words Part Three: Tantalised (T) Qrow normally has no interest in the festive season. This year he grudgingly agrees to participate, if only to keep Jimmy quiet. 1 chapter 3,260 words

Numerically Speaking Series

A series of (mostly) unconnected short stories, prompted by the numbers 1 to 10. Ongoing Part One: One Mistake (M) One mistake. One stupid mistake. And suddenly, everything was ruined. 1 chapter 1,947 words Part Two: Two Months (T) It is hard to see past the hurt. But to heal, that is what Qrow tries to do. 1 chapter 1,417 words Part Three: Three in the Morning (G) When Qrow can't get back to sleep, he hatches a plan. It doesn't quite work. 1 chapter 1,002 words Part Four: Four in the Family (T) Three become four as Qrow and Clover welcome a new member of their family. 1 chapter 1,667 words Part Five: Five Words (T) Qrow and Clover have a date, a meal at their favourite restaurant. But this time, something seems different. 1 chapter 1,393 words Part Six: Six Weeks (T) Qrow/Clover / Blake/Yang / Jaune/Marrow Yang is determined to keep working as long as she can. Luckily, when she unexpectedly goes into labour, she's with the right people. 1 chapter 3,128 words Part Seven: Seven Stars (G) An evil is rising, and the Captain of the Guard is sent from Minas Tirith to seek one who may be able to overcome it. 2 chapters 5,518 words Part Eight: Eight Days (T) Sometimes, the most trivial disagreement is all it takes. But if you care enough, there's usually a way back. 1 chapter 2,138 words

Qrowtober 2020 Series

Six separate fics for Qrowtober 2020. Completed Day Two: Flight Interrupted (T) Qrow is a bird on a mission. When he finds himself caught in a storm, it takes an unexpected turn. 4 chapters 8,432 words Day Seven: A Quiet Night In (G) Qrow & Yang & Ruby / Background Taiyang/Summer Taiyang and Summer have been married for three years, and Qrow agrees they deserve a night out to celebrate. 1 chapter 1,677 words Day Eight: Images of Yesterday (G) Qrow/Taiyang Taiyang has accumulated an attic full of memories stretching back many years. Some of them are inconsequential. Others, Qrow realises, mean so much more. 1 chapter 1,005 words Day Twenty-One: A Different Family (G) Qrow & Raven Family is very important to Qrow. He wants to belong, but he begins to realise, not all families are the same. 1 chapter 841 words Day Twenty-Four: Misplaced Trust (T) Qrow/James Qrow knows there are limitations to the intimacy he shares with James. Finally, he must question whether a relationship without trust is one worth having. 1 chapter 1,225 words Day Thirty-One: The Love That You Bring (G) Qrow has seen Remnant at its worst. With the war behind them, he and Clover can look to the future. Both men agree, the world is a better place now they are together. 1 chapter 1,675 words

Varin & Challance Series

Stories taking place throughout Qrow and Clover's life together. Ongoing Part One: A New Home (T) The war has been left behind, the personal difficulties surmounted. It's time for Qrow and Clover to finish preparing their new home on Patch, and Tai is happy to help where he can. 1 chapter 2,468 words Part Two: Four in the Family (T) Three become four as Qrow and Clover welcome a new member of their family. 1 chapter 1,667 words Part Three: Rainbow (G) If Qrow had been offered his heart's desire years ago, he doubts he would have thought of wishing for what he has now. 2 chapters 2,420 words Part Four: Till I Die (T) Qrow's final flight. 1 chapter 1,500 words

7-6 (M)

A quiet night in for Qrow and Clover ends in an unexpected battle for the two experienced fighters. 1 chapter 1,202 words

As Tears Go By (G)

Some painful memories never leave you, but if you have a sympathetic partner there for you, it helps. 1 chapter 1,257 words

Birth Day (T)

Qrow and Clover wait anxiously for a very special delivery. 1 chapter 1,491 words

Convergence (T)

Qrow and Clover are bound to get together. Eventually. 1 chapter 1,514 words

Deep (E)

Qrow sometimes teases Clover about the depth of feeling between them. But they both know that being in deep, is where they want to be. 1 chapter 1,396 words

Face the Rain (G)

Clover and Qrow have been together for some time now, but the cracks are starting to show. 1 chapter 2,324 words

Home Is In Your Arms (G)

Qrow has never known true love, and anyway, he's not sure if it's something he deserves. But maybe things are different now. 1 chapter 2,787 words

i'm dreaming 'bout those dreamy eyes (G)

The importance or otherwise of eye colour. 1 chapter 478 words

In Your Eyes (T)

Not everyone believes in the idea of a soulmate. And sometimes, you don't have to. 1 chapter 6,303 words

Instinctively Yours (T)

In Springtime, every bird's thoughts turn to finding a partner. Clover never expected it to be him. 1 chapter 2,016 words

It's Not Goodbye (G)

Jaune/Marrow In the escalating confusion after team RWBY fight with the Ace Ops, there is someone Jaune desperately wants to find. 1 chapter 647 words

Kiss Me, Kiss Me (T)

After the trials and tribulations in Atlas, Clover and Qrow enjoy some downtime in Patch. 1 chapter 1,635 words

Letting Go (G)

Qrow/Taiyang Qrow tries to help Taiyang move on. 1 chapter 948 words

The Monster I've Become (T)

James/Clover James had not expected love, or anything like it, to come calling. But it does, and for a while he can be happy. Life, however, has other plans for him. 1 chapter 4,928 words

The New Stable Master (G)

Captain Clover Ebi arrives at Faunus Hall, to take up a position as Stable Master. The estate Steward, Qrow Branwen, is unsure of his suitability for the role. In time, however, Qrow finds they have much in common. 1 chapter 4,925 words

The One Who Loved You So (G)

James/Qrow and Qrow/Clover James cares for Qrow. He sometimes wishes he didn't. 1 chapter 1,000 words

The Only One That Knows Me (G)

There are two Clover Ebis— one public, one private. Other than Clover himself, only one person knows them both. 1 chapter 1,686 words

Paradigm Shift (M)

Clover's life is settled in every way except one. As he searches for the right woman for him, fate takes a hand and sets him on an unexpected path. 10 chapters 19,360 words

a qrow came to me (G)

A short scene which could have happened, but sadly never did. 1 chapter 672 words

Reassurance (T)

Qrow always anticipates the worst outcome in any situation. Clover tries to reassure him, that isn't always how things turn out. 1 chapter 1,113 words

Regency Bees (G)

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[third-rail-vip]

Unexpected Guests

Summary: 

Ivy gets a surprise visit from a bored Piper while she's recovering from her injuries from Forest Grove.

MacCready runs an important errand in Goodneighbor.

What's a week off from adventures without a chance to catch up with old friends over drinks and maybe get a little bit of gossip?

Notes:

This is a bit of a self indulgent split pov fic.  I’ve had a chance to drop in some character backstory and separate Mac and Ivy and let them talk to other people about each other too.

Rating:  Teen

Word Count: 6456   [AO3 link]  [Then I Met You - Series Link]

Ivy woke with a start, chest caught in a tight knot from the blinding flash relived behind her eyelids.  Still clutched in her fingers from before she drifted off was an old photograph, faded by the centuries, but lovingly maintained.  It showed a perfect nuclear family; a smiling husband--dark-haired, handsome and square-jawed--his arms wrapped tightly around the waist of his wife, her rich brown curls perfectly framing a serene expression of absolute love towards the baby cradled in her arms.  

Nate, Nora and Shaun Carroll - October 20th 2077 was written in neat looped script on the back - the precious memento had been pressed into her hands by Codsworth as she set out for Concord.  Ivy could remember peeking through the blinds of Rosa’s living room - still recovering, still hiding from the world - and seeing them take that photograph.  The laughter and the sweet ridiculousness of their Mr Handy attempting to take it first before they resorted to a neighbour.  

Her dream wasn’t of that moment though.  It was of thundering knocking at her door, of propellers whirring deafeningly overhead, of Nora’s hand in hers dragging her up the hill to the vault, of her throwing more military legalese at the gate guard than Ivy could wrap her head around until the man let them pass.  It was of being held tightly in the arms of a near-stranger as the light from a rising mushroom cloud burnt itself onto their retinas, and of a baby screaming in its father’s arms.  

Ivy owed the Carrolls her life.  Not that the debt mattered much to the frosted dead eyes that stared back at her through thick glass when she fell coughing and half-frozen from her own metal tomb.  It was in the ruins of what had been her sanctuary, that she promised Codsworth that she’d do everything she could to find the boy and bring him home - to whatever kind of a home this world had to offer.  

Sliding the photo onto her bedside table, Ivy checked her pipboy:  6pm.  Shit, when did that happen?  Last time her eyes were open it’d been 11.  

The dull thrum of conversation from the Dugout’s evening crowd drifted through the thin walls, punctuated occasionally by the proprietor's booming laugh.  Even that was drowned out in the wake of the incessant knocking which shook the door.  

Her sleep-clouded eyes indignantly took in the lamplit room, wondering why her partner had put up with the banging as long as he had - MacCready’s patience was infinitely shorter than hers at the best of times - but her surroundings were severely lacking one mercenary.

For a moment she wondered if it was him at the door, but he never knocked.  Well, not unless he thought she might be changing.  He’d learnt that one the hard way; wandering in on her in her underwear, the poor guy had been so caught off guard that, instead of running his smart mouth, he’d turned tato red and nearly smacked his nose on the door when he spun back around.  

Ivy pulled her flannel shirt into a more respectable position and swung her legs off the edge of the bed - bare skin instantly goosebumped by the touch of cold air, she dragged the blanket to cover them.  As a second thought, she lifted her pistol off the bedside table and tucked it under the blanket, pointed at the door.  

“Who is it?” she called across the room at the now incessant knocking.

“Blue, it’s me.  If you don’t open up soon, Vadim is gonna think you’re up to something disgraceful.”

Piper Wright.  Diamond City’s version of trouble incarnate - if you were a corrupt official at any rate.

“It’s open, no need to bust out those fancy picks.”

“I would never,” the reporter grinned at her, slamming the door and leaning back on it.  

In Piper’s hand were a couple of beers – they were probably warm, and flat, but there wasn’t much more to be hoped for two hundred years after brewing.  She raised an approving eyebrow when Ivy withdrew the gun and tucked it back on the table.  

Hazel eyes, keen with the spark of a bored investigative journalist took in the dingy room;  rifles tucked under the bed, packs stowed by the unused chest of drawers, notepads strewn across the table next to a full ashtray and some nuka cola bottles, and a discarded pile of blankets on the sofa where the occupier had kicked them off.  Piper frowned, but resisted the urge to lean closer and read the notes.  

“So, Blue, what’s kicking?”

“Ha. Ha.”  Ivy rolled her eyes, sticking her bruised and swollen ankle out from under the blanket.  “You know, not much at the moment.”

Piper ditched the beers on the coffee table, then on second thought used one of them to prod the blankets out of the way from MacCready’s makeshift bed on the couch.  With some effort, she helped Ivy hop over to sit in the space she’d made while she took the armchair.  Passing Ivy the blanket beer, Piper kicked her feet up onto the table and twirled her own bottle in her hand, watching the flat liquid regain some of its fizz before taking a sip.  

“I heard a rumour you were back in town.  Thought I’d check in on you, see if there was any news from Nicky.”

MacCready had promised to check for her when they got back to Diamond City, but the meeting had yielded little more than Mac’s frayed temper snapping at Valentine.  Followed by a surprise apology from the mercenary.  Maybe that was the gossip Piper had come for.

“I’m sure you’d have heard before me if there was,” Ivy huffed.  

Passing Piper the photo of the Carrolls, she sank back into the cushions of the sofa and hugged her knee to her chest.  “No, not a damn thing.  It’s hardly surprising, if anything, my memory’s getting fuzzier.”

Piper stroked her fingers across the glossy picture, a sad smile half-tugging at her lips.

“They look so happy.”

“They were.”

“Still nothing?”  She glanced up at Ivy.  

There was less hope and more resignation in her eyes every time she asked the question.  Back when Nick took her case, both he and Piper had tried to talk her through ways of recalling information, even small details, ways to look past the trauma.  

None of it had worked.  

“Just the voice.”  Smug and malicious.  Calling her the backup.  “His face is still just blurry.”  Even though he’d leant right in and tapped on the glass like Ivy was a goldfish.  Bastard.

“It’s not your fault, Blue.  You’d already been through so much.  That kind of trauma--”  The look Piper gave her ached with pity, despite her attempt at an encouraging smile.  “You found - you rescued - Nick.  If anyone can help, he can.”  

“I made a promise, it just doesn’t feel like I’m doing enough.”

“You’re doing so much!  We got the article out there.”  

Ivy shifted uncomfortably.  “All that’s gotten me so far are commiserations.”

“I know saying you were his mom didn’t sit right with you--  I should have warned you.”

Piper reached out and squeezed her hand - it was an apology that came every time they saw each other following that first interview.  A more extreme attempt to make it up to her, had been the trip across to Boston Common which had resulted in them fleeing to Goodneighbor back in October.  

“I don’t know if you noticed, Blue, but this world is kind of selfish.  Honestly, I think people will be more likely to help this way.”

“I know… I know.”

“By the time we’re done, there won’t be a person in the Commonwealth who doesn’t know who Shaun Carroll is.  We’ll get him back, I promise.”

“Thanks, Piper.”

The reporter awkwardly cast around for something else to do, and settled on straightening out the notebooks; eyes that didn’t miss a thing, skimmed the scribbled maps and notes that Ivy had carefully taken down as Mac tried to describe Mass Pike from memory.  

Ivy flicked the book shut when that questioning gaze fell on her.

“Not to bring up the elephant in the room…” Piper tried a subject change instead and nodded to Mac’s ‘bed’ on the sofa. “But weren’t you meant to be ditching the hired help once you found Nicky?”

“I never said that.”

“So what?  You’re keeping him around because you like the stink of cigarettes and, I can only assume, wet dog.”

“Piper Wright, play nice!  I know you aren’t his biggest fan, but MacCready watches my back.”

“He watches your butt, Blue.  Or what is it you Brits say?  Bottom?  Bum?”  

Ivy tried to sound outraged but she was laughing too hard at the plumy queen’s english that just left her friend’s mouth.

“Piper, he does not.”  

Liar.  She bit her lip, unable to keep the colour from her cheeks.

He did watch her ass, she’d caught him more than once.  Sometimes he wasn’t even ashamed of it, although it was far more fun when he was.  And maybe she did put a little more sway into her walk now and again, or lift with her back instead of her knees every so often. But what was the harm in that?  

“I should have expected you’d stand up for him.  My sources tell me you two showed up in town with him carrying you like a couple of honeymooners.”  The reporter crowed smugly.  

“Because of my leg!”  Ivy cried, responding to Piper’s dramatic spouting of mock-marriage announcement headline, with a playful shove.  “And I know your ‘sources’ are Danny.  I saw him gawking.”

“Speaking of Danny, he said your mercenary--”

“Not my mercenary--”

“Whatever.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Danny said he saw MacCready head out this morning.  Didn’t see where he was headed though.”  Piper paused, scrutinising her between sips of beer, before her expression softened again.  “You don’t know where he is, do you?”

“I’ve not seen him since first thing when he said he was going out.  I never even thought he might leave.”

“Leave,” Piper scoffed and chugged the last of her beer.  Slapping her hands on her knees, she sprang to her feet.  “You know what you need, Blue?  A distraction.  And something stronger than beer.”

After making Ivy swear she’d get up and showered, and watching to make sure she downed the last of her own beer, Piper left in as much of a whirlwind as she’d arrived, with a promise that she’d be back in twenty minutes with a change of clothes and Ivy had better be ready.

--x--

Nothing says welcome like the stench of urine soaked garbage, MacCready had once complained to Ivy on one of their trips back to the inner city settlement, but despite the ever present smell of tomcat, Goodneighbor still felt like the closest thing to home he’d found in the ‘wealth.  He wouldn’t go so far as to say he got no sidelong looks, but fewer than any other settlement he visited, and at least these were somewhat based in fact.  

Despite the ache in his head from where a board had hit him, his dumb yet ingenious - if he did say so himself - plan to return to the re-supermutant infested library had paid off.  Stowed safely in his pack was a pre-war map that covered the whole area around the Mass Pike Interchange.  With it, they could plan a route to take on the Gunners without a repeat of their last disastrous attempt.

MacCready had slipped past the raiders and the mutants en route across Boston, tracing a route that he knew by heart from the months he’d spent there before meeting Ivy.  It was late afternoon by the time he sauntered through the gate to Goodneighbor, whistling past the cigarette hanging from his lips.  Other than the surly presence of the neighbourhood watch, the streets were quiet;  the night owls weren’t up yet and the day drinkers had already shambled off to the Third Rail to dull whatever pain they kept tight-lipped about.  

That meant he wouldn’t have to wait for a quiet spell to drop in and see Daisy.  It’d been too long since they’d stopped by Goodneighbor and he had a pile of caps burning a hole in his pocket, just waiting to be shipped back to the Capital Wasteland.  Not to mention a desperate hope for news from home.  

“MacCready, long time no see.”  Daisy leant across the counter of the discount store, beaming when she saw him.  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about our little corner of the Commonwealth.”

“How could I forget about you, Daisy?”

“Nice try, kid.  Don’t think I don’t know why you’re really here.”

She reached under the counter and produced a lockbox which clicked open with a key kept around her neck.  MacCready grinned, its contents might be cargo precious to no one but him, but Daisy understood.  

He took the letter that had been locked safely away, dragging a thumb over the crayon doodles that covered the envelope before he tucked it securely into his breast pocket to read later when he got a moment of privacy.  

The old girl had always been good to him, ever since he staggered into Goodneighbor without a cap to his name, a wild look in his eye and Gunner blood on his face.  She’d treated him like family with no explanation other than he reminded her of herself when she was younger – a fuck up too, he’d guessed at the time.  

On the anniversary of Lucy’s death, after more than a skinful, Mac had broken down and told her everything.  Daisy let him cry it out, never passed judgement, and once his sobs had settled she told him the caravans owed her more than a few favours, handed him a pen and paper and said write to your boy.  I’ll get it to him.

So now, more than six months later, MacCready paid her back as best he could - by dealing with trouble - and she kept him afloat with a lifeline home.

“Here on your own?”  

“Yeah, the boss is laid up.”

The word ‘boss’ tasted odd on this tongue.  It’d been a while since he’d used it to anyone other than strangers.  It hadn’t felt like Ivy in a long time, but it was easier not to try and fumble his way through that explanation.  

Carefully checking they were still without an audience, MacCready emptied out every last cap he had - digging deep into his pockets and tipping out bags to make sure every last one was accounted for.  Daisy wrapped them tightly in fabric to stop the telltale tinkle of metal on metal, adding more as he discovered them squirreled away in various places.  

“Laid up, huh?  Sounds like there’s a story behind that,” she chatted idly.

“Just ran into some trouble on the way to take out some old trash.”   Trouble, with any luck, they’d avoid next time.

“Gunners, huh?”  Nothing got past Daisy.  “Those boys might not be the brightest, but they’ve got numbers.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Daisy.”

“And what about your boss.”  

Nothing got past Daisy.

“She sprained her ankle.  Doc says she’s got to keep the weight off, that’s all.”  His explanation appeared good enough for now.  

Next for the package were two envelopes; battered from being repeatedly crammed in pockets before anyone could see him writing, opened and reopened as he added more news while waiting for his chance to get to Goodneighbour and send them off.  One was covered in messy scrawl addressed to Carys, the other he’d lovingly and carefully addressed to Duncan and was filled to the brim with adventures he wished he could tell his son in person, and a promise that daddy would be home soon.  

“Anything else?”  Daisy asked, taking the toy car out of his hands and wrapping it with the caps.

MacCready patted his pockets down and felt the hard glossy sheen of a photograph that had remained stowed in his duster for longer than he’d care to admit.  

On their first trip to the library for Daisy, Ivy had found a working camera and he’d damn near blinded himself with the flash.  After some ill advised chemistry experiments, her and Sturges had managed to develop a single unscathed picture;  he was squinting, caught off guard by the sudden light, and tucked into his side was Ivy, smiling over at him like she wanted to laugh.  The look had recently started to make the air catch in the back of his throat.  

He turned the picture in his hand, half of him wanting to send Duncan something more than words or toys to remember him by, but the other half didn’t want to let the picture go.  

“Wait.”  

Taking the cap stash back from Daisy, he removed 200 and tucked them back into his pack - it was about time he stopped hiding behind their initial arrangement.  As much as he hated debt, he disliked the idea of Ivy thinking he was just there because she paid him, more.  

But speaking of debt.

He sighed and pulled out another 300.  At least he could finally afford to pay off Whitey’s tab in something other than favours, even though he’d rather send the extra caps home.  

“Before you go wandering off with the look of a man who’s lost at cards, I’ve got a little something to send along to Duncan,”  Daisy smiled.

She produced a couple of packs of gumdrops and one of snack cakes, and, most impressively, a pristine teddy bear.  MacCready stared, speechless.  Daisy had obviously gone to a heck of a lot of effort to clean up the toy and get it into good condition.  He’d never have admitted it when he was a kid, but he’d have killed for something like that.  

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep back the threat of tears at the thought of Duncan’s face lighting up at the sight of it, and instead ducked around the counter to press a sloppy kiss to Daisy’s temple.

“You’re a doll, you know that right?”

“I know.  Now get out of here.  I’m sure you’ve got plenty more important things to do than entertain an old ghoul.”  

Barely making it out of the doorway on his debtors traipse to the Third Rail, Daisy called him back.

“I think you forgot something.”  She slid the photo across the counter to him, but had the grace not to tease him.  “You be careful out there.”

--x--

“Gunners.”  Ivy swayed gently on her barstool, carried on a breeze of cheap vodka and weak beer.

The Dugout Inn was a whole world away from the far shadier, but infinitely friendly Third Rail.  That evening the bar was filled with its traditionally grumbling clientele, mostly spaced so that they wouldn’t be forced to interact with anyone they hadn’t specifically come to see.  It was about as congenial as her old Metro commute - although commuters these days were more likely to eat you than glare if you tried to force them to converse.

The pair had been getting scornful looks from the second Piper half-lifted Ivy out of her room and to the bar, and that was a good few hours, and a bad few drinks ago.  

Dragging the sleeve of her rather too large t-shirt back up onto her shoulder, Ivy knocked back another shot of vodka and pulled a face at the burn in her throat - she’d assumed it would ease with regular applications of the spirit.  Her theory was not panning out.  

Piper grabbed Ivy by the knees and twisted her so they were facing.  The sharp movement nearly knocked her own shot flying, luckily the practiced hand of Vadim - who had learnt from the number of spillages caused by Piper’s over excited limbs - caught the drink before it had a chance to topple.

“Are you nuts, Blue?  Why the hell would you go after Gunners?”

“Shh shh shh.”  Ivy patted at her friend’s mouth, bemused at her lack of understanding.  “They were bothering him.”  

Realisation slowly dawned across Piper’s as one hand fished around for her drink, eyes not leaving Ivy’s.

“It’s those big bastards from Goodneighbor, isn’t it?  Damn, Ivy, you’re running around on that mercanar— mermenar—” Piper growled at the word that refused to untangle from her tongue.  She threw back her rescued shot instead and tried again.  “That merc’s vendetta?  You remember you hired him, right?”  

“Yes, I remember I hired him.  It set me back 200 caps.”

“Out of a grand.  You sold that shiny laser rifle, remember?”

Ivy patted more frantically at her friend’s mouth in an attempt to stop her loudly spilling any more secrets, especially money related ones.  

With the stalls around the market closing and the rumbles of another encroaching winter storm bouncing off the stands outside, a fresh wave of patrons huddled into the muggy gloom of the increasingly packed Inn, bringing with them a cold, damp breeze that channeled straight to the bar each time the door opened.

“Miss Wright!”  

This latest wave had apparently washed up Doc Crocker, who greeted Piper from somewhere behind Ivy.  The man was a disconcerting sight at the best of times, smiling away like a used car salesman from under a pair of goggles he never seemed to take off - apparently not even in the darkened bar.  He beamed across at Piper while he waited to be served.

“Doc.  What brings you here?”  she asked with the strained patience of a woman who had probably had this conversation many times before.  

“Well, I must admit to a small vice,” he tittered away to himself, as though answering questions they’d not heard asked.  “A quick drink after work!”

“And the jet,”  Piper muttered into her glass so only Ivy could hear.  

“You have marvellous bone structure.  Beautiful…”  Suddenly Ivy was trapped like a rabbit in headlights under the focus of those bug-eyed goggles.  “But not perfect.  You should stop by the Mega Surgery sometime.”  

The surgeon picked up his drink and wandered off to the couches to comment on somebody’s nose.  

Ivy prodded at her cheekbones and gave Piper a bemused look.  “Well that was charming.”

“Oh, he’s harmless, Blue,” the reporter chuckled, reaching across to smush Ivy’s cheeks.  “Aren’t you tempted by a little nip and tuck?  Impress your mer--”

“Stop it or I will push you off your stool.”  Ivy muffled through her forced pout.

“Come on, Miss Kendrick, a statement for the press…  You can’t tell me you’re helping him for no reason.”

Piper didn’t see it, but MacCready was in trouble, Ivy knew that much for sure, but the extent of which was anyone’s guess.  Trying to work out what was going on with the guy was like trying to put together a thousand piece jigsaw of throwaway comments, far off looks and names he’d whisper as he tumbled out of bad dreams, except she was missing the lid and all the pieces were baked beans.  

“I’m helping him because he asked.  That’s basically all I’ve been doing for people since I defrosted, isn’t it?  Build me a house, fetch me this paint, get that body out of the water supply.”  Ivy ignored the horrified look on her friend’s face and topped up their glasses.  “Isn’t it enough that he asked?”

“For you maybe, Blue.”

“Do you want me to call back Crocker?  See if we can get your eyes fixed?  Your hunger for a story is making you hallucinate, Miss Wright.”

“Fine.  Go after your Gunners if you must.”  She raised a shot with Ivy and waited for her to drink.  “All I’m saying is when you get round to it, the sex better be worth it.”

Ivy choked, spluttering on the alcohol that threatened close off her airway.  She turned, slack jawed to her friend, fully aware from the hairs pricking up on the back of her suddenly overheating neck, that the entire queue at the bar had turned to look as well.

“Piper--”  A hoarse chastisement was all she could manage.

Vadim’s booming chuckle cut across the bar before Ivy had a chance to gather herself enough to clamp her hands over her friend’s mouth.  The women managed to glare him away before he was able to comment.  He strolled off, still laughing to himself, to serve the last waiting customer - one of Diamond City’s security guards, a rare sight without a helmet on.

Poor MacCready had already been the butt of far too many of the bartender’s jokes about the amount of time she’d spent shut away in their room.  Mac had given up trying to explain himself and by day three of her convalescence he was practically running through the bar to avoid the insinuations.  This was going to make things a thousand times worse.  

Their reprieve was short-lived; Vadim reappeared with two glasses of good whiskey and a smirk that threatened to split his face in two.    

“From a not-so-secret admirer.”

The bald security guard, who was obviously the sender of what Ivy fully intended to be her last drink of the evening, made no move to come and talk to them.  He just raised his glass and gave them a nod - his expression unreadable behind dark glasses.  

Ivy and Piper raised their glasses and nodded in return before huddling conspiratorially.  

“You’re going to give me a reputation, Piper Wright.”

“Renting a room for a week with that mercenary is going to give you a rep--admittedly I’m not helping...”  She gave Ivy a cheeky little grimace.  “Ugh, Blue, why is there nothing interesting to write about?  McDonough is shutting me down at every angle.  So much for freedom of the press.  I just want a decent story!”

Still hovering nearby, the bartender seized his moment to make a bid for 15 minutes of fame.  It wasn’t happening.

“So, Piper, you have finally decided to come publish Vadim’s latest tale of heroism, yes?”    

“That’s not news, Vadim.  We all heard about the nudity.  And the coolant.  Earl spread that one faster than a town crier,”  Piper snorted.  

“See what I mean?”  she sighed when Vadim had been successfully shooed away to the opposite end of the bar.  “All I get are people telling me stupid stories like that.  Whenever I publish the real deal.  The truth about what’s going on in Diamond City, everyone looks at me like I’m mad.”  

There was something so miserable about seeing Piper dejected.  Stuck in a room filled with her critics, not even managing to get a hint of gossip out of her friend.  Ivy hadn’t been out drinking with a girlfriend since college, and the more she thought about it... Piper had braved this place with its bad beer and bitchy clientele to keep her company.  The least she could do was throw her a bone, after all, two centuries is a long time to go without gossip and a giggle.

“You got me thinking and I have a very serious question.”  Ivy downed the rest of her whiskey, which in hindsight was not supposed to be drunk that way.  

Piper perked up in an instant, leaning in close as Ivy beckoned her forward until their foreheads were practically touching.

“What is it, Blue?”

“What if sex changed in the last 200 years?”

Piper’s snort was worth everything Ivy was going to have to endure.  It was the loudest, most undignified, joyous noise, and set Ivy off cackling too.  

“I knew it!  I knew it!”

“What?  Shut up, I’m asking for a friend.”

--x--

On the other side of town, it was getting to that time of night where MacCready needed to catch himself before knocking ash into his whiskey and picking up his ashtray for a drink.  A good time of night.

“Not me, brother.”  Hancock shrugged, leaning back on one of the tattered sofas in his rooms in the State House.  “You think I go around paying off tabs?  You’d drink me out of house and home.”

“You know it wasn’t that kind of tab.”  

Mac shifted uncomfortably, glancing across at Farenheit, who lurked in the gloom, leaning against the doorframe, her unimpressed expression lit by the glow of a cigarette.  He’d been convinced it was Hancock when Whitey refused to give him a name.  

“I know, but I’d rather Charlie didn’t have to dispose of too many Gunner corpses either.  They might decide it’s actually worth starting shit.”  MacCready might have earned his place as a friend of the mayor, but Hancock wasn’t going to risk Goodneighbour to the Gunners.  “Sure you aren’t missing the obvious?”

“Positive.  She wouldn’t have,” he scoffed.  “Ives had way too much of Charlie’s swill to remember my tab.”  

“I should be insulted,” Hancock drawled, without the slightest hint of offense taken.  “Your doe-eyed vaultie talked Charlie into coughing up 400 caps for my warehouse job.  You sure she was as drunk as you remember?”

“You shoulda seen her at the Rexford,” MacCready settled back into his sofa, wrapped in the warm embrace of a whiskey induced haze, a far away smile sneaking onto his lips.  “One minute she’s swaying on her feet, the next she’s got old Fred to offer 500 caps for a trip to Hallucigen.  She just smiled and told him it was hazard pay.”

A lazy grin spread across Hancock’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing, man.  Just nice seein’ you something other than drunk or sour.”  He got up and meandered over to the cabinet, fishing out a bottle to replace the whiskey they’d finished - an action that didn’t fail to get Mac’s attention.  “How is the new job working out?”

“Hope you’ve got enough of that to go around.”  Without bothering to lean forward, he toed his empty glass across the coffee table for a refill.  “Hate to admit it, but i’m actually enjoying the work.”

The ghoul raised an eyebrow at his mucky boots draped across the wood, but filled his glass anyway before kicking his own feet up.  “Just the work hmm, nothing to do with the company?”

You don’t know the half of it.  

MacCready had been doing a damn good job of keeping things professional - harmless flirting didn’t count - but admittedly it was getting more difficult, and a badly timed return to their room had only complicated matters.  In a matter of seconds, keen eyes usually trained to spot weakness and danger, had read details of his half-naked partner’s life that he hadn’t earned the right to see.  She had three tattoos - knowing Ivy they had stories behind them, a couple of old bullet wounds had left superficial scars across her upper arm, not to mention the surprisingly distracting dusting of freckles.  

All things he shouldn’t hope to study slowly and in infinitely more detail.  

“The work is good.”

“Ha.  I knew it.  Don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” Hancock chuckled.  “She’s not as sweet as she seems.  You’d never have stuck around otherwise, not unless you got to play bad influence.”

“She’s an angel.”  MacCready smirked at the nickname that used to be taunt.  He shook his head as an irrepressible grin cracked across his face.  Damn whiskey making him loose lipped.  And damn half-empty pack on Mentats - the ghoul was on the ball today.  “But you should see her pick a lock.  Those hands--”

It had come as a shock, but a heck of a pleasant one, that Ives could work a lock faster than some professionals he’d run with.  But the image that caught in his head was the way she dragged her teeth over her bottom lip when she concentrated, deft hands delicately coaxing the locking mechanism open.  

Once he’d cockily asked her if she could do it blindfolded and without missing a beat she’d told him she could do a lot of things blindfolded - it had made for a distracting fight through the rest of the raider camp.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth and concentrated on lighting his cigarette to avoid making eye contact with Hancock.

“Hey, distractions are good, man.  You gotta enjoy your time on this earth,” the ghoul shrugged.  “I admit, we half-expected to see you back here by now.  The boys had a sweepstake on how long it’d be before that sweet boss of yours sent you packing.”

Of course they did.

“Oh yeah, who’s winning?”

“Yours truly.  Everyone else thought you’d be back by now.”

MacCready laughed.  If you asked around Goodneighbor about him, most people would tell you “good shot, bad attitude”.  Didn’t matter if they’d met him or not, word travelled fast and reputations tended to stick.  He’d been a defensive son-of-a-- well, his attitude hadn’t won him any popularity contests.  

“Sorry to disappoint but you’ll be waiting a little longer for your payday.  We’ve still got jobs planned.”

“I heard you were looking to make a move on the Gunners.”

Mac had given up long ago being surprised by the things Hancock heard on the grapevine.  

“That’s the plan.  Why?  You’ve not had any more trouble from them, have you?”

“Not since you left.  They’re watching, but then they’re always watching.  It’s the super mutants that are giving us more trouble these days.  Gotta say, we miss your gun on the defences.”

MacCready grinned.  What little work he’d managed to get out of Goodneighbor, despite his Gunner background, had been from people seeing him in action during those raids.  Although drifters and drug dealers didn’t bring in the steadiest or best paid work.  

Leaving Goodneighbor with Ivy had been a longshot, but then again those were his specialty.

“Any news from home?”  

Daisy wasn’t the only one who knew what drew him back to Goodneighbor so often.  

MacCready fished the latest letter from his breast pocket, running a calloused thumb over the doodles on the envelope.  “Carys says he’s ‘pretty stable’ - whatever that means - and he misses his daddy.”

She’d said other things too, mostly shit he didn’t understand like the boils had spread from his axillae and groins, but she was keeping an eye on them and they weren’t causing more issues.  Yet.  And that Duncan was still on his feet, but it was taking a lot of physio and he was hating it.  He throws the kind of tantrums baby you would be proud of, MacAttack.  

“And he still wants a puppy.”

MacCready bowed his head, the bridge of his nose pinched tightly between his finger and thumb, like that was ever gonna stop the tears prickling his eyes.  Carys - or the ‘lone wanderer’ as she was known to people who never bothered to get to know her better - was the only doctor he’d trust anywhere near his son.  She and her wife hadn’t hesitated to open their home to his little boy, to look after him while MacCready headed north.  But Carys was never one to mince her words.  She’d told him in no uncertain terms that leaving the Capital Wasteland meant that there was a risk Duncan could die without him there.

“So.”  Hancock wasn’t one to mince his words either.  “You made any progress on that cure?”

“You think I’d be sitting here getting drunk with you if I had?” he snapped, then sighed.  “Without Sinclair’s password it’s fuh-- it’s pointless.”

Trust issues and desperation were an ugly combination, but he’d had them in spades when he’d landed in the Commonwealth.  Sinclair and his partner had looked no better than kids wearing pots and pans as homemade armour.  Freaking useless.  There was no way he was going anywhere with those amateurs, but that hadn’t stopped him trying to beat them to the prize, only to realise he’d never get through security without a password - one Sinclair had neglected to mention when they proposed the team up.  The hoards of ferals were just the icing on the cake.  There was no way in hell he was getting in there alone.  

On the brightside, if there was one, there was no way they’d have made it through those ferals if he couldn’t.  So the cure was still there, just waiting for him to find a way in.    

“You know what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say it anyway.”  Hancock took a long drag of his cigarette then folded his arms, black eyes studying MacCready intensely from under the shadows of his hat.  “You were saving caps to hire some guys to get you into that lab, but you’ve got a partner who - from what it sounds like - would help you for free.  What’s stopping you asking?”

“I nearly got torn apart last time I went there.”  

He slammed his glass down, a wave of amber liquid sloshed across the wood.  Shame reared its ugly head as he tried to forget that he had tried to get Ivy to Malden.  And he’d lied to her to do it.  But that was before she was more than just a job.  His alcohol fogged mind drifted back to the tears that spilled from earnest brown eyes when she told him she thought she’d got him killed.  

His voice cracked, “I can’t watch it happen again.”

MacCready stood suddenly, the room giving an indignant whiskey induced spin.  Once his eyes could focus again, he checked his watch: 1am.  “I should get back.”  

At the door he turned, remembering his manners.  “Thanks for the drink, Hancock.  Sorry about the…” - he waved vaguely - “everything.”  

“No harm done,” Hancock smiled calmly.  He was always hard to rile, not to mention better at holding his drink than the mercenary.  “Hey MacCready, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

—x—

It was late - or possibly early - when MacCready finally made it back to the Dugout.  On the brightside, he was in one piece, having luckily skirted round any trouble while crossing Boston under cover of night.  On the downside, he looked like he’d swum up the Charles rather than walking - the storm that had finally broken when he was halfway back, and even the brim of his cap was sagging under the weight of water.  

He found his partner fast asleep, still fully dressed - in clothes he didn’t recognise - curled up on top of her covers.  She hadn’t even stirred when he kicked the door shut.  The bottoms of her feet were grubby like she’d been out of the room barefoot - must be what Vadim looked so entertained about when he wandered through the bar.  

Smiling to himself, he dragged a free corner of the blanket over her before kicking off his boots, ditching his sodden coat and hat and collapsing back onto the couch.  If his luck remained, maybe he’d sleep through any potential hangover.

[waterfall-ambience]

Void Fog (Cosmic Horror AU), Part 1

A summary of everything we have so far.

All the information here is already available, but I haven’t updated the AU storyline since April, so I’m making this post for completeness’ sake.

- The eldritch abomination is an entity that has existed for millennia. It resides in the space between worlds- the Infinite dimension.

- It's only true desire is to consume.

- It’ll consume anything, but it’s particularly drawn to worlds that have been, or are currently inhabited by players. Considering the practically infinite amount of worlds (seeds), these are difficult to come by.

- The Hermit’s pattern of moving between different worlds has allowed them to unintentionally evade the Entity.

- It’s able to enter minds and control people to some extent, usually with the goal of finding other worlds and entering them.

    - EX was exiled to a blank void world within the infinite dimension. Though he couldn’t travel beyond the void world, he could sometimes access the rest of the infinite dimension through his dreams. The Entity established a psychic link between them by preying on his insecurities (which, all things considered, is a huge can of worms).

    - When EX managed to escape using his unstable admin powers, the Entity was able to locate the Hermitcraft server and bring forth the apocalypse.

Meta plot stuff:

- From a meta standpoint, it’s kind of difficult to pinpoint when the story takes place, and write a lot of it beyond what’s happening to EX. He was banned from the server in March 2019, and stayed in the void world for an extended period of time. By the time EX manages to get back onto the server, it could be any time during S7, but likely in the future, when the world has been developed a bit more.

- Some elements of the story will change as the season goes on so that it can fit into the context of S7

- The story mostly focuses on EX, so unless a canon story arc has elements of alternate dimensions (eg Area 77) or the supernatural (eg Demise), then the ‘Hermit’ side of the story is unlikely to have a major impact on the story as a whole. If EX comes back in canon, then the circumstances of how he does so will be incorporated into the AU.

World notes:

- X and EX have admin powers. EX barely knows how to use his and as such, lacks control. For example, he might try to summon a few stacks of a particular block, and end up summoning too much or too little. 


- EX’s powers can be influenced by his emotions. When upset, he has a tendency to teleport all over the place and cause lighting glitches, lag, and other errors. His ability to teleport and travel between dimensions is also unstable.

- The Entity would’ve found the Hermitcraft server sooner or later. If the Hermits extended Season 6 into Sixfinity, they would’ve attracted its attention. If Doc had kept using the infinity portal to access other servers, then it’s likely that he would’ve run into the Entity at some point, and this whole apocalypse mess would’ve happened anyway. 


Exile:


- When he was banned, EX was sent to a creative superflat dimension outside of normal worlds. No structures generated there, and the floor was made up entirely of blue glass. He spent most of his time trying not to think too hard about the isolation, and instead turned to building nonstop.  


- His main ‘base’ was an ever expanding rustic house. He spent some time with NPG before getting banned and was taught how to build in a rustic style, which is what he’s most comfortable with. The house has gotten exceptionally large, and is near impossible to navigate due to its erratic floor plan. 


- EX also spent a lot of time sleeping, because the less time he spent conscious and aware of the usual passage of time, the better. However due to the nature of the void world he was exiled to, he could enter other dimensions in the Infinite (infinite dimension) through his dreamscape, as could the Entity.

- Isolation did not help EX deal with his fears and insecurities in the slightest. Often he’d find himself thinking about the circumstances of his exile, no matter how hard he tried not to. The fear that everyone hated him, that he had pushed everyone away with his evil schemes and rash decisions, that even if the Hermits were nice to him, they would never truly consider him to be their friend- it consumed him.

    It was only natural that they would never trust him- he lied and stole from them, after all. He deserved it, but realising that was a permanent blow to their faith in him stung far more than he anticipated.

    Often he found himself questioning every relationship and interaction he’s had with other people. Was he too aggressive with the tag game? Did he forget to say goodbye to Pixl and Zloy that one time? Did he bore NPG with his rambling about Worm Man?

    How long ago did X consider banishing him? Was it when he fell into old habits and reached out to press the button that would supposedly destroy the server? Was it then and there that X decided that he’d never be ‘good’, or was the decision the result of smaller mishaps? Was it when he over steeped their tea that one time? Was it when he caught himself slipping into a ranty, dramatic monologue? He recounted every stupid, impulsive decision he’d ever made, replayed it in his head hundreds of times, wracking his brain for answers he knew he’d never get.

- Over time, EX’s dreams became increasingly vivid. Most of them devolved into nightmares of phasing through fog, smoke, and crowds of vaguely recognisable people and ruined cities. Occasionally he dreamt of the dimensions in the Infinite- with its fleets of ships, endless libraries, and whispered orders.

- As he began to remember more of the dreams, EX noticed the near-constant shadowy presence that encompassed everything and nothing at the same time. He made a conscious effort to ignore it, but like all his other decisions to *not* think about something, it never truly worked. Most of the time, he was able to somewhat focus on his surroundings, but it’s when he dreamt of the Hermitcraft server that the presence was impossible to ignore.

- The presence never named itself, but disturbing as it was, EX felt compelled to trust it.

EX’s return to the Server

- EX was found at the base of an unfamiliar Nether portal. X and Joe theorised that he collapsed from the transition between game modes and exhaustion from forcing himself onto the Season 7 server.

- From the moment EX returned to the server, some of the Hermits reported incidences of objects disappearing and chunk errors. Some claimed that the layouts of their bases shifted as they walked through them.

- Joe asked around different villages to see if these incidents were constant across the server. Most of the reports tied back to folklore of an entity seen by those who travelled between dimensions.

More World Notes:

- Some of the Hermits have made contact or communicated with Higher Beings (e.g. Cub and Scar with the Vex, or EX with the ‘evil voice in his head’), but they are less powerful than the Entity.

- The Hermits are a group of interdimensional travellers. Each Season takes place on a different planet or in a similar alternate dimension

Infodump Continuation: Season Seven

Story note: Particular locations and events aren’t specific for the sake of flexibility, as the story takes place further into S7.

- Some of the Hermits reported incidents of chunk errors and missing entities. A few hours later, EX was found unconscious in front of an unfamiliar Nether portal.

    - The portal was removed for the sake of clarity within the nether hub.

- EX was brought to Xisuma’s base and his reappearance was discussed during a server meeting.

- Xisuma and Joe began to investigate the cause of the reported errors. X spent hours poring over the server’s code, and Joe started asking around some villages to see if the errors were consistent across the server.

- EX didn’t wake up for a long time. Some theorised that he was exhausted from the transition between game modes and forcing himself back onto the server. Keralis and Stress mainly watched over him, and would occasionally pop in to see if he was okay. Sometimes they found him tossing and turning, but he only somewhat responded to outside stimulus.

- Joe returned, and EX woke up a few hours later. After a well needed shower and hot meal, Joe took him in and asked him to explain what happened. EX gave his ‘statement’, and began to help Joe with the investigation.

    - EX talked a lot about consistent nightmares and how the dark presence didn’t go away, even if he was on the server. In fact, it seemed to whisper to him now.

- EX spent the next week or so trying to adjust to living in the Overworld. Everything was too bright and dark at the same time and called attention to itself. Sometimes he felt that the air was too full of particles. Sounds were louder than they had the right to be.

- While EX was recovering from his time in exile, the investigation was mostly reading written tomes of folklore and reports of errors in libraries.

- EX continued to suffer from frequent nightmares, and it got to the point where he was hesitant to sleep, and tried to stay awake for as long as possible. It didn’t help. Joe found him sleepwalking and muttering about searching for something, but couldn’t make out what he was searching for.

- EX grew increasingly worried about the dark presence and voices he heard in his dreams, and freaked out a bit when Joe told him about the sleepwalking. Joe offered to lock the door to EX’s room from the outside- it might not have directly helped with the problem, but it helped him feel more at ease.

[photiniainsummer]

A Little Audience Participation Can Tip the Scales (4/?): Curiosity Killed the Cat...

Genre: GenFic - Action, Mystery, Humor

Rating: Teen and Up

Story Summary: There’s a strange group living at the old Markiplier Manor.

They’re the villains of their tales, they’re looking for information, and they need your help putting Mark’s scattered egos back together to get their lives back.

And stop Mark and the Entity breaking reality.

Small goals.

(Second Person POV, vaguely fem-coded Reader)

Chapter Summary: The one where you almost die.

Word Count: 5407

Author’s Note: I promise we're almost to the real meat of things - let me know what you think!! :)

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30510852/chapters/76436726

Curiosity Killed the Cat...

“Oh, come on,” you sigh, easily opening the metal door at the bottom of the outdoor staircase to Jonah’s apartment. He’s forgotten to lock it for the thousandth time, which always makes you slightly anxious - something you could really do without right now. His carelessness never ceases to amaze you; you’d gotten copies of the keys to both his doors early on in your friendship because the man could barely go a night out on the town without losing them. You’re the only reliable person that’s also foolish enough to go out drinking with him, so he dubbed you his personal keeper of the keys. At first it had been a mantle you bore begrudgingly, but it had been a big part of you two becoming so close - having to drunkenly help someone into their own apartment will really bond folks, you had learned. So far, you’ve never needed to use them without with him around, nor had you let anyone else borrow them, even for a bit of light pranking. Maybe it’s silly, but if you’re honest with yourself, the simple key ring feels like Jonah’s trust embodied. Nothing so far has proved to be worth more than that to you. Ascending the old stairs, you wonder if he’s noticed.

So far, your plan to check up on the crime reporter is not turning out to be the quick detour you had hoped. Lunch hour traffic had eaten into your hour and some change, and Thistle, the owner and proprietor of the downstairs combination health store/cafe had been no help. He had been busy serving up roasted halloumi paninis when you poked your head in a few minutes ago, and after investing time into waving off his concern about your busted-up face you’d found that he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Jonah since he’d left for work yesterday morning. “I went out before he got back, I suppose, and I was horribly drowsy this morning - big night,” he’d said with a wink. “So he could’ve left this morning and I just didn’t notice.” When his lack of information only deepened the furrow you’d been carrying in your brow all day, Thistle had pulled an apologetic expression before trying to sell you a CBD tincture for wrinkles.

The bushy-bearded man could be like that - simultaneously thoughtful and mildly insulting - but he made a mean panini, so you had taken one at his insistence. As much of a bust catching up with him had been, given how long-winded and very intent his sales pitches can be, you’re glad that you at least won’t go back to the office hungry. The sandwich’s warmth leaks through the paper bag at your side as you knock on Jonah’s door. It’s a beat-up thing, paint-chipped and worse for wear. Its best feature is that it keeps a whopping three-quarters of the rain out. It looks even more crooked than the last time you were here, something you hadn’t thought possible, and you make a mental note to rag Jonah to have his landlord fix it properly this time.

You listen for the man’s tell-tale heavy footsteps, wondering if he had just taken the day off. Maybe he unplugged the landline and curled up in bed to mope all day about not getting to go on your great adventure to the Manor. It sounded like something he might do - although the thought of all you’d been through as a ‘great adventure’ feels like the most gross mischaracterization you can think of. But here you’d be, banging on his door, a nervous wreck under your extensively bruised surface, having run halfway across town because he hasn’t called you back. He’d look at you like you were nuts and tease you mercilessly, you know. How did people cope before cell phones, you wonder, knocking again. Regardless of what Jonah might say, you’d happily bear the embarrassment for the comfort of seeing him in the flesh. Something really isn’t sitting right with you about all this.

“Jonah? It’s me, I brought lunch,” you call for good measure. Maybe food would tempt him out, if he was wallowing around inside and being a big ol’ sad sack. As you wait a little longer, you lean over slightly to the nearby window. Against your better judgement, you check for wrinkles. It’s not so much that you mind having them, if you do, but you hadn’t noticed them happening. Is time really moving so quickly, ravaging you already? You twist a few errant bits of your curly bangs to get them to hang right and peer at yourself, raising your brows and lowering them, just to see. Sure enough, a few persistent, thin lines remain when you relax your brow. Then you furrow it, even as you know it’s counterproductive. Cool, cool cool cool. Next will be the gray hairs. Maybe I need to drink more water…?

You meet your reflection’s gaze properly. You look more tired than usual, that’s for sure, and your bruises don’t really lend toward a relaxed expression. Your brow is slightly drawn up, stuck in a constant flinch against the steady, low-level pain of your sore face. It draws a sigh out of you - either you’re exhausted by it or you’re relaxing now that you’re conscious of it, but which one isn’t clear. At least that deer-in-the-headlights look you’d caught in the shattered mirror at the Manor hadn’t stuck around. That memory alone is enough to remind you that these aren’t normal circumstances, that nothing about this is normal by any stretch of the imagination. You realize just how much you can’t wait for this all to be over, for the simple explanation to win out and for your nerves to take a breather. Once we get all this sorted out, I’ll take a serious couple of naps, eat at least one vegetable, and I’ll be good as new. The thought sounds a lot more optimistic than you feel.

Finally, realizing nobody’s coming and Jonah is probably out, you resignedly turn from your self-involved and low-key mope session and make to descend the stairs and head back to work. But your eyes catch something as they unfocus from your own reflection, and you turn back to the window.

You can see into Jonah’s living room, which is odd, since you’re certain this window had blinds the last time you were here. Looking up, you realize said blinds hang at a sharp angle, half-torn from their molding and revealing the inside of the apartment. It’s a complete wreck. Furniture is overturned and papers are everywhere, as if a bomb had gone off.

“Jonah?” Your voice sounds unfamiliar, distant and panicked, as you knock on the door more insistently. It swings loosely inward from the force, the deadbolt already having been snapped through the weak wood of the doorframe. What the busted door reveals is much worse than the snapshot the window provided. Nothing is where it’s meant to be - pictures lie shattered on the floor or hang at strange angles from their nails; books’ pages are torn from their spines and scattered around; the floor is covered in a thin layer of cotton and feathers, the guts of cushions turned outward and furniture torn open. It’s devastating and all-encompassing, and you can barely process the wreckage laid out before you.

I should go get Thistle, is your first thought. Get someone, call the police, get away and get safe, is your second. Whoever had done this could still be inside, and you are now a witness. They could walk out from the back at any moment. They could be armed. But what if Jonah’s still inside, is your third and most arresting thought. Thistle had said he never heard him leave this morning, and he’d been out last night -- how recently had this happened? Your mind works quickly. It would have had to be at least some time between yesterday evening and now, of course, but there was no telling for certain. He could still be in here. He could be hurt. He could be dead.

Stepping over the threshold, you work to steady your breathing, which has become shallow in the shock. Like hell you’re going to ditch without even checking if he’s inside, attacker be damned. The part of the wall where the deadbolt typically slides into place is now splintered outward, ugly and sharp, and as you shut the door behind you, the piece of metal easily but ineffectually returns home. The metal casing from the doorframe lies discarded on the floor among the rest of the wreckage. Nearby are bits of shattered plastic, and tracking them to their source reveals the remains of an old landline. The cord has been pulled from the wall, the body broken open so its wiring curls in sad gnarls. It brings a new meaning to the line being ‘dead,’ you think humorlessly, but you have at least one more answer than you did before - Jonah didn’t answer this morning because he couldn’t. And yet, this only leaves you with a whole new pile of questions.

You move cautiously through the ruined apartment, not wanting to disturb the wreckage more than you have to. You’re already considering the inevitable police investigation, and you are going to make damn sure the police have as much unsullied evidence as they can find to put Jonah’s attacker away. Or attackers. You stop by his CD shelf - something you had teased him mercilessly for having the first time you visited because, seriously, who still has a CD shelf? It lies bare, now, contents scattered on the floor, but thankfully undisturbed behind it is a baseball. Jonah keeps it for moments like this, you imagine. Although, the hypothetical scenarios he had prepared for had probably involved him being the one wielding it You lift the bat to your shoulder. Just in case.

You continue your search, into the tiny half-room Jonah generously calls his study. Despite the room being equally torn apart as the rest of the apartment, the blinds here are intact. You crane your neck to see through their slits, careful not to touch them, wondering if something lies behind. Past the fire escape on the other side of the glass, the side of the neighboring building fills the window’s view. Directly across is a large window, propped open, curtains dancing slightly in the breeze. Without the blinds here, whoever lives next door would have a perfect view in, if they had a care to look. Someone was careful. Turning around, you can fully take in both the study and dining area - and the scope of their destruction. Sunlight falls across it all, cheerily at odds with how the floors are barely visible for the wreckage. There’s a path where you picked your way through, but otherwise it is trashed. Every shelf is laid bare.

Suddenly, a realization makes the hair on your neck prickle. As chaotic and troubling as the scene is, it isn’t random. The destruction is consistent - there is no corner untouched. No book remains intact, no container or bit of furniture unturned.

This isn’t random violence. It’s too careful. Like with the blinds being left up to shield the wreckage from prying eyes. Someone had come here, intentionally, and they had been looking for something. They had no idea where it could have been, but they were thorough in their search.

Had they found it?

You’re getting distracted, you’re not a cop building out a crime scene. You’re here to find Jonah and make sure he’s okay. Readying your bat in case you’re about to startle his attacker out of hiding, you call out. “Jo…?” Your voice betrays you, shaking. You clear your throat and push on. “It’s me, are you here?” No response, so you move through the mess more quickly, now. If whoever did this had found what they were looking for, they would have left Jonah behind. What state they would have left him in, though, is what you’re not sure of.

You worm around his overturned drafting desk table and check the back rooms. His bathroom and bedroom are a similar mess, clothes turned inside out and dumped everywhere, his medicine cabinet hanging open and the floor a mess of pill bottles and half-used shampoo. But there’s no sign of life. And no blood, either, you note with not a small bit of relief. You poke around the piles of Jonah’s clothes scattered through the bedroom and hallway, just to make sure he’s not hidden under them and wounded before returning to the study.

You feel lost, pumped full of adrenaline yet without an outlet. There aren’t any obvious clues to where Jonah could be, or where he could have gone. Had they taken him? Moreover, who had taken him, and why? What could Jonah have done to warrant… this? Taking a steadying breath, you pull your phone from your pocket, deciding that getting the police involved is the next logical step.

Then, voices, footsteps on the metal staircase.

Your heart rate shoots up as you strain your ears to pick out the voices, but they aren’t familiar tones. Without thinking and with your panic rising, you dive under Jonah’s upended desk, crouching yourself into a ball in the small space it makes between a bookshelf and the wall. It’s close, a little dark, and your breathing seems to echo in it - too loud and too hot all at once. Ignoring how your knees protest against the sudden, tight position, you press yourself further into the corner as the front door creaks open again.

“Je-sus, they really tore the shit out of this place.”

“Yup. Had to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything else, apparently. Muscle found a couple copies of stuff he’d hidden in different places, trying to be real slick, so they went through with a fine-toothed comb for good measure.” The first voice, reedy and exasperated, sighs and shuffles their feet.

“Really doesn’t make our job any easier. How’re we supposed to make any of this look normal? It’s insane.”

“That’s out of my pay grade, and yours. They’ll… put a dog in here or something, say it went bonkers being locked up alone. Give it a few days, it’ll live the mess in. But we gotta get it at least kind of decent, first. Now c’mon, help me with this couch.” The apparent clean-up crew shuts the door behind them and begins to shuffle around in the mess of Jonah’s apartment.

Your mind reels - so Jonah had been snatched up by god knows who, had been hiding files in his apartment, and now they were going to make it look like the break-in was… what, an accident? Like he had disappeared and left everything a wreck himself? What were they going to do with him? Unfortunately, you can’t say that this is the first time he’s gotten his nose in too deep about something, but you would have thought he had learned his lesson after his brush with being harassed and the rigamarole of getting restraining orders in place.

As sleepy as your city can be, there are a few folks everyone knows not to mess with. Everyone, of course, except Jonah, at least in any delicate sort of way. You laud him for his commitment even when the police balk from digging deeper, for being so full up with righteous fury that he puts stories to print as soon as he can. Even on the politics beat, you’ve come across your fair share of illicit wheeling and dealing - but there are ways to sound them out, you’ve learned how to sit on things and work with authorities until the time is right and publishing your piece won’t put you in imminent danger. Jonah, despite having a good number of years on you, seems not to have picked up on the same lessons. That, or he’s too committed to care. You mentally flip through the last few cases he’s mentioned that could be possible explanations, but nothing comes close to deserving something like this. Except…

But it seems ridiculous, like a murder mystery novel. There is no way whatever is going on surrounding Mark could possibly warrant Jonah being straight up kidnapped.

A heavy thud shakes the floor, and the deeper voice of the second intruder curls itself around some colorful curses.

“My foot was there, dumbass-”

“Maybe you oughtta move it, then,” the first snaps. The second seems to lose whatever is left of their patience, grunting in frustration.

“What the hell is going on with you? You’ve an attitude all damn day, I’m not doing this job with you in a huff.” It goes quiet, and after a while, the first intruder sighs.

“...I dunno. Johnny was just. He was running off at the mouth, you know him. It’s nothing.”

“Like hell it’s nothing, got you all worked up like this.” Another sigh. Is this… are they really doing a debrief in the middle of covering up a crime scene? You try to keep your breathing quiet as they continue.

“Basically called me too dumb to move up to internal affairs,” the first mumbles.

“Oh, hell, I’m gonna pull Johnny’s head out of his ass just so I can shove it back up there myself next time I see him. You know that’s bull, they said you just needed that computer class, right? Come on, what is it Mark always says?”

There’s a pause, but finally the first answers in a tone not unlike a sullen teenager. “...life is ours to choose.”

“There you go. And he runs us on that, right? And you’re choosing to move up, right? So he’ll see that, and I bet he’ll promote you soon as you graduate. Now c’mon get that look off your face and let’s get this done, huh? Dinner’ll be on me, and so will Johnny’s next knuckle sandwich.”

The pair returns to their work, but under the desk, a coldness has seized you. This cinched it - as absolutely insane as it sounds, it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that these goons were answering to someone named Mark, cleaning up the kidnapping scene of someone who had been secretly digging into the mysterious history of a dead man with the same name. That the kidnapped man had only gotten suspicious because he works at one paper out of many that have been erasing or squashing any mention of said dead man, despite him being a native and a once-celebrity. That said paper, despite its lead editor’s obsession with careful filing, was missing any of those nixed stories. And that same filing system had been hiding a thick file, seemingly addressed to the dead man himself. Maybe you’re taking too many liberties, too many leaps in reasoning, but… despite how tenuous it all feels, it’s too much to ignore anymore.

How long had all of this been going on, right under all your noses? You feel sick, like the biggest idiot in the world - like you’ve been going about your life blindfolded all the while walking dangerously close to a cliff’s edge. Jonah had been the only one to see it clearly, and still, look where that got him. You remember the men at the office, Walker’s scared gaze. Had they been there about Jonah? If they had been here first and not found what they were looking for…

The folder’s weight in your bag, still slung across your chest, seems to chain you to the lightly feather-covered floor. Your heart pounds against your ribs, thunders in your ears. And god, your head aches like hell, everything just too much as you try to keep your breathing quiet. No wonder the men at the Manor had been so paranoid about you. If Mark could pull off something like this, disappear someone and send people to both destroy their place and clean it up to make it look like something else, all for just digging around on him, you’d be paranoid of anyone who suddenly busted into your hideout.

Well. You’d be paranoid anyway. But doubly so.

You know there’s no way you can stay here. The two workers are busying themselves around the apartment, the first apparently comforted enough by the second’s threats of violence against Johnny to hop to it. Discussing how to organize their approach, you can tell they’ll move on to the study soon enough. But they’re between you and the front door, will definitely get a head start on you as you awkwardly crawl out from behind the desk to escape. You could push it suddenly toward them once they were close, psyche them out and make a break for it while they’re startled. Which will only work if they’re close enough together and don’t flank you…

As you fumble for another option, the blinds behind you bounce slightly against the windowsill. A soft breeze caresses your face. Turning, you can see that the window is slightly open. Backlit by the afternoon sun, the dark metal of the fire escape casts a shadow across your face. There. It’ll be tight, but you can definitely crawl through the window from where you are without having to reveal your presence. At least, you won’t before you have the window between you and the clean-up crew. Then it’s just get down the escape before they do and book it as fast as you can.

As it’s the only route you can think of that doesn’t involve having to fight the men off, you decide it’s your best bet. Quietly scooting yourself toward the window, you crane your neck to ascertain the workers’ lines of sight. They’re occupied in the living room, trying to wade through the mess of stuffing and ripped up pages, well enough away and not looking in your general direction. You take your chance. You slip your hand behind the blinds and push up on the window.

The squeak it emits as it sticks, then rises sharply as you push it harder could shatter eardrums.

You only vaguely note the exclamations of the pair as panic overtakes you. Pushing out from behind the desk and under the blinds, you fling yourself out onto the sun-baked fire escape. The sunlight crashes down around you, forcing you to squint as you land and immediately scramble back to the window to close it. You shove down on it as hard as you can and the old thing jams crookedly in the casing with barely a half inch of space open at the bottom. Panicked fingers poke out from under it, trying to pull it up to no avail. The men holler in frustration behind the trembling blinds. With no time to waste, you turn and begin descending the metal scaffolding at a quick clip.

You stop, though, as you recognize a pair of broad shoulders at the mouth to the side alley you’re perched above. Even from a distance, just from the way he holds himself, you can tell it’s one of the burly men from the office. The cold feeling of the scar-faced man’s gaze fresh in your mind, you spin on your heel and hurry back up the shaky steps. You’ll find another path down somehow, you’re sure of it. The workers are still desperately attempting to open the window as you pass, your fast steps rattling the metal beneath your feet and only inciting their ire. “Hey, hey, get back here! Get-- Laney, go get the guys, go-”

But your panicked pace has already alerted ‘the guys’ to your presence - the sound of the shaking metal echoing clearly in the tight brick alleyway has seen to that. As you take the next flight, you can see that the man at the entrance to the alley is already closing the distance to the bottom of the escape. Heart leaping in further panic, you will your legs to go faster as you climb, tightly rounding the bend on each flight of the stairs. The building is only a few stories tall, so you quickly reach the top. Your hands grasp your bag tightly to your chest to keep it from slapping against your legs as you start to run across the roof, just trying to put distance between you and whoever is making chase.

But you have no idea where you’re running to.

Jonah’s building backs up to another, slightly taller one, and so you cross the roof and scramble over the small wall that divides them. You check this building for a way down, swearing when there’s no obvious rooftop entrance to the building nor fire escape. The next building is too close to warrant one, but pushing yourself onward, you hop easily across to it. Nothing here, either, so you hurry across to the next, and the next, each time pulling yourself up the small walls or crossing the short gaps between the buildings. Your hands quickly get rubbed raw, chest aching with hard breaths. You hear yelling from behind you, now, multiple voices calling and the sound of pounding feet. The sun is hot, beating down on you as you force your legs to pump, to keep going, leaving off searching for an escape in favor of just trying to lose your pursuers. You cross building after building, thankful for a reason you never would have imagined before now that Jonah had decided to live near the densely-packed shopping district.

Your luck soon runs out, though. Now out of the dense, main collection of antique shops and specialty grocers, the buildings grow farther and farther apart. Your jumps leave you more and more startled when you land them, the last one far enough that you can’t even control your fall onto it, smacking into the roofing gravel hard. It finds you, but you’re in full panic mode at this point, run ragged, exhausted, and still having to push onward. From the dusty, gravely concrete, though, you see the scarred man steadily approaching, taking the jumps between buildings in stride. Whoever he was with before that you heard yelling must have peeled off, leaving just the two of you.

You push yourself to your feet, palms burning from being so skinned up and pushed into the hot, dirty roof. Your body hurts all over, something you’d think you would have gotten used to by now. As you turn to continue onward, you find yourself limping slightly, leg aching although it’s not clear if it’s just a cramp from your panicked run or something worse. Regardless, you find that the next gap between buildings is shorter than the last one, for sure. I can make it.

“There’s no point,” the man calls. “Even if you get away, I know you. Where you work… Where you live will be easy.” You turn now to see the imposing man, still on the opposite roof. He stands there, watching you with that same cold stare, his voice so assured it makes you sick. As if he knows you’ll give in, that he’s already won. “And I know you have something that belongs to my boss. So why not make this easy and just give it to me now.”

You edge back slightly toward the next gap, and the man’s face twitches. You still have energy left, air in your lungs. This isn’t over. But maybe if you can keep him talking… “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stares you down. “You’re familiar enough with our work, now, I think. Your friend’s car, his apartment... I just want the file, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Just leave me alone, all I know is that you started chasing me--”

The man growls and suddenly rears himself back. He leaps, landing on the roof only a few short feet away from you. It’s freaky, nothing about the motion feeling real or like something any human could do. It’s like a movie. You stumble backward toward the edge, leg bumping against the ledge. It twinges painfully. The man rises up and begins to approach, one pale, thick hand extending toward you. His scar is so obvious in the sun, from this close. His eyes are so cold.

“Give me the file.”

“Get away from me, I don’t. I don’t have any file.” You’ve apparently run out of lies for the day - it sounds weak, even to your ears. You step up onto the ledge, ignoring how your leg protests, readying to jump. Below you is a steep, multi-story drop into a trash-filled alley below. If you took a leading step, you could make the jump, though, you’re certain of it. But your heart is racing, your thoughts spinning. What if I fall? What if he grabs me? The man is approaching quickly now that you’ve stepped up, and you wind back.

“Just give it to me, and we can make this all go away…” His powerful hand reaches out, within your arm’s length, looking as if he’s offering to take your hand. Time seems to slow to a crawl around you. The man’s hand continues toward you as you make for the edge. You turn to face the open air, but your body feels like lead moving through deep water. The next building over is so close - maybe he won’t make this one, and you can get away properly.

You take the last step and leap. Pain spikes through your leg as you shove off, but you push as hard as you can.

As soon as your ascent begins, you know you won’t make it. You didn’t have enough lead-up, your push-off hindered by whatever you’ve done to your leg. Gravity quickly reasserts itself, and you’re falling. You twist in the air, curling around your bag to keep it from being snatched. Turning to face the sky above, you see the man still reaching for you, the sun catching in every drop of sweat on his bulging face as he hangs over the edge. Even shaded from behind, his cold eyes, lit with fury, are still visible.

You shut your own then, the wind rushing up around you. You don’t want to see what it’s like when you hit the ground. Maybe someone will see you fall, find you and the file before the man can get off the rooftop. Maybe the police will get ahold of it (and your pursuer) and some random girl falling to her death will be the thing to blow Mark’s operation open. Maybe someone will find Jonah, if he’s still alive. How would that be for the end to a grand adventure? It’s so cheesy and stupid that all you can wonder, wryly, is this is really my last thought?

Your courageous self-sacrifice is rather rudely interrupted, though, as you’re seemingly hit by a freight train. Something solid going almost as fast as you are knocks the breath out of you, and the next thing you know, you’re tumbling across the ground ass over tea kettle.

When you come to a stop - surprise - everything hurts. It’s worse this time, though. Nothing feels like it’s in the right place anymore, your joints protesting like hell. You’ve never been hit by a car before, but you imagine this is what it might feel like. The sun is blinding you, and you wonder for a moment if what hit you was the pavement of the alley, if it had just knocked you out of your body and straight into heaven. Or whatever afterlife there might be. You’re no theological expert, but you feel like you recall that the afterlife isn’t supposed to hurt.

You groan, and a deep voice nearby echoes you, although it melts into a big belly laugh. Turning toward it and away from the sun, you blink your eyes open properly and relocate your limbs. Squinting past the spots in your eyes and the protesting of… well, every bit of you, you push yourself up and realize the owner of the voice is right here next to you, already starting to brush himself off. His dark hair is mussed and grass has stained his yellow button-up, but his crinkled-eye smile is the same as the night before. Another laugh bubbles out of Wilford, truly amused as you both come back to yourselves in the grass.

“Good lord, dear girl, you really don’t do things by half, eh?”

[dragonofelder]

Dabi & the Endeavor Insulting club - Plot Idea

So for this AU, if Touya Todoroki exists at all, he’s either dead or off doing non-villainous stuff elsewhere

Where Dabi’s hatred of Endeavor comes from is irrelevant, but a potential idea is that, like Inasa, younger Dabi had a very negative encounter. Maybe he tried to tell Endeavor how much he inspired him to become a hero with their similar quirks, or asked for help controlling his dangerous flames. Endeavor is an ass, Dabi is sad, lifelong hatred made. Moving on

During a fight between UA & LoV (again irrelevant which), Dabi faces off against Shouto. Between throwing fireballs Dabi goes on about how much of a bastard Endeavor is, and how he’s a terrible hero. He’s of course expecting Shouto to get mad and defend his dear dad.

He’s not expecting the deadpan reply of “You should try living with him.”

Dabi is Thrown Off his groove, and is kinda shocked when Shouto; 

A) Does absolutely nothing to defend Endeavor

B) Adds his own points about why he’s a dumpster fire

C) Seems quite happy to stop fighting and just spend the next five minutes bitching about Endeavor 

The LoV retreats, but Dabi is actually intrigued, and wonders if he can recruit Shouto for the League (and because Shouto is kinda great at insulting the “Eternal Number Pwo Hero” and he wants more) 

So he stalks him, because of course he does, and winds up following him one weekend as he leaves UA

He’s quite surprised when Shouto winds up at a cafe with the two other  Todoroki siblings. He gets closer to try to listen in, and gets close enough to hear Fuyumi recount a story of one of her preschool students drawing Endeavor as a large flaming poo.

Dabi has accidental wandered into their monthly “Bitching About & Insulting Dad” session.

He’s so amazed that all of Endeavor’s children hate him that he breaks cover (by laughing)

Instead of calling the cops or anything, Shouto simply introduces Dabi, and tells his siblings all the shit he said about Endeavor

Thus instantly earning him a place in their hearts

He joins into the session, and gets invited back next month.

The siblings like having an outsider that they can share the funniest humiliating stories with, and Dabi just likes hearing about Endeavor failing

As time goes on, he actually starts using the stuff the siblings tell him in fights against Endeavor

Dodging an attack; “Bit impatient hero, should have just used the microwave!” - Referencing a story Fuyumi told him, about when Endeavor decided to use his quirk to heat a ready meal, with incredibly messy results.

Launching Endeavor through a door; “Don’t let it hit catch your arm!” - An incident retold by Natsuo, where Endeavor stopped halfway through an automatic sliding door to scold him. It got caught on his arm, much to his annoyance

When Endeavor’s costume is partially destroyed: “If you’re going to light up your pubes, now’s the time”; The only time Shouto enjoyed being at his father’s agency, when due to a marketing idea Endeavor got a bare-chested summer costume. He had the smart idea to light his chest hair on fire like he does with his head, and it looked so terrible he scrapped the whole costume

Shouto actually provides a covertly taken photo with that story, because watching his father’s blood pressure rise rapidly is now his favorite sport, considering the fact he is protected behind UA’s walls.

Dabi shares the photo with the League, saying he got it from an information broker, and shows it to Endeavor during that fight. As he makes his escape with the rest of the League, he “accidentally” drops it in front of gossip magazine reporter, one that is known for mocking hero costume designs.

Also the information that Endeavor physical abused both his wife and his children infuriates Dabi, and he is now actively gunning for Endeavor, going out of his way and ruining plans, making him a bit of a risk for the League. 

Shiggy warns him to lay off the revenge, and that if he becomes too much of a risk he will be... removed.

So Dabi is stuck between following the League’s goals, and messing with Endeavor. 

The choice is obvious

But he needs a way to get out with being killed. And preferably using it to, again, mess with Endeavor.

Coincidentally, there is Hawks, who Dabi is completely certain is a government mole.

Dabi makes it clear that he knows about it to Hawks, but that he wants to make a deal with the Hero Commission - in return for help in bringing down the league, he wants a reduced sentence...

... and a proper investigation into Endeavor actions as a hero, and his family life

It’s a shame that Hawk is basically Endeavor’s number one fan, and refuses to believe a bad word about him.

If only there were a way... or maybe some people... that would be able to give definitive proof of Endeavor’s asshole-ness to the winged hero

The “Bitching About & Insulting Endeavor” club gets a bystander

Who is now completely onboard with all plans

Including a last minute idea by Dabi...

See, the League gets taken down in a massive raid, and because they’ve been such a problem, the media get brought in quickly to show their capture.

The shocking betrayal by one of the league’s lieutenants, and his most likely instrumental role in bringing down Shigaraki is caught live on camera

As is his own quick and painless surrender to Hawks, who coincidentally happens to walk Dabi right past the fuming Number One.

Its quite shocking when Endeavor begins to attack on the poor, quirk-contained and restrained man, breaking a couple bones before he himself is brought down.

Such a shame the media crews, and no one else for that matter, were close enough to hear Dabi’s whisper; “That beating on Shiggy was almost as harsh as you beating your wife”, mere moments before Endeavor snapped.

All in all, a job well done. Some sympathy for the already heroic looking Dabi, some indisputable evidence of Endeavor’s overly violent manner caught live

Also apparently the Todoroki kids are trying to convince their de-hospitalized mom to adopt him, which is... nice? 

So this idea was originally named “The Todoroki kids adopt Dabi,” but I’m pretty happy with how it ended up. Thoughts?

Also Hotwings if you want I guess.

[rigel126]

RK1K Week Day 1 Fic

Day 1 – Painting | Playing an Instrument by Rigel126 Tags - Fantasy AU, Fluff, Established Relationship, RK1K Kissies

*

Ever since the Kingston Senate voted to grant rights to Spellcasters, great changes have swept through society. Prejudices against Spellcasters were slow to change, but now many of them found the courage to stand up tall, proud and open in the streets.

Foremost among the Spellcasters living in Kingston was the Jericho Coven, who now had their own shop called the Manfred Art House down in the Merchants Quarter. The group of Spellcasters who dared to stand up to oppression and fight for the rights of their brethren had achieved a certain level of fame within the city and beyond.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson and Inspector Connor were summoned to the Manfred Art House for an investigation, ever since Captain Fowler, leader of the Kingston Peacekeeper Corps decided that they would specialize in Spellcaster-related crimes. When they arrived, other Peacekeepers were already at the scene, with several nasty-looking men lumped together on the floor with their hands tied up. There was evidence of an altercation in the shop, with shattered fragments across the floor.

“What happened here?” demanded Hank to no one in particular.

A Peacekeeper officer jogged up to Hank and saluted. “Sir. The shop owners called us in. Witnesses say that these men came here to scare off customers, vandalize the shop and intimidate the witches-“

Hank clapped one hand heavily on the Peacekeeper and growled. “It’s a new age with new laws, lad. And the word you should be using now is ‘Spellcaster’.” Hank squeezed hard until the Peacekeeper winced in pain. “You hear me?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Good!” Hank gave him a shove as he released the man. “Bring these thugs back to the station for questioning. I’ll have a word with the staff here.”

The Peacekeeper was not happy, but he saluted Hank and went on his way.

“Hank! Connor! Thank you for coming so soon.” A wooden wheelchair rolled across the floorboards, propelled by nothing except magic. Upon it sat Carl Manfred, master painter, owner of the shop and a respected elder of the Jericho Coven and among Spellcasters.

“Master Manfred,” Connor took a step forward and bowed. “I heard what happened here. Was anyone hurt?”

Carl smiled at the young man. “No, my good boy. A few of our customers were shaken and we lost a few of our wares as you can see around us -” Carl waved a gnarled hand to the debris on the floor, “but fortunately my children were able to stop those brigand before they could cause any serious harm.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Hank. “This looks like a clear-cut case of hate crime against Spellcasters. I’m sure they will be convicted pretty easily. As for your loss in goods, you can file a claim for compensation against those good-for-nothings.”

“Certainly, and thank you so much for your help and support.”

Carl noticed Connor looking around and grinned. “Looking for someone, my boy?”

Connor looked startled but quickly recomposed a stoic appearance. “No, sir,” was his mechanical answer.

“If you’re looking for Markus, I believe he’s still at the palace to discuss some draft laws with His Majesty and the Elder Senators.”

“Connor?”

Just the sound of that familiar voice was enough to make Connor’s face light up. “Markus!”

“Hank! Dad! What happened here?” Markus demanded, alarmed by the mess.

“My son, do not worry. We had a few troublemakers come by, but everything’s fine now. Luther and Leo took care of them. Hank and Connor are here now so it’ll be just fine.”

“Ahem!” Hank cleared his throat. “Connor, it’s nearly the end of your shift. Why don’t you let me wrap this up?”

“But Lieutenant,” protested Connor. “Your shift will –“

Hank silenced Connor with a hand. “You haven’t seen your boyfriend in a while, haven’t you? You’re dismissed.”

“Hank, I –“

“But! In return I want you to write up the report for me tomorrow morning, you hear? No more arguments from you, kid.”

Connor’s stiff lips showed his mild displeasure. “Fine.”

Hank nodded smugly. “Good.” He glanced at Markus and pointed a finger. “I’m leaving my boy in your hands. Be sure to return him to me in one piece tomorrow morning or I’ll break you in two, even if you are the most famous Spellcaster in Kingston.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Markus blinked, then smiled broadly. “Absolutely, Lieutenant Anderson. You have my word for it.”

“Hank!” Connor blushed, but Hank was already on his way out of the shop.

Carl’s magical wheelchair creaked again, and the old man rolled over to the shop counter. “Don’t you boys worry a thing about this mess. The others can help me clean up. You two just go upstairs and get some rest till dinnertime.”

“Dad –“

“You heard your old man.” North cut Markus off, hefting a broom and a bucket in his hands. “Now go snog your man where we can’t see you.”

“Screw you North.”

“Hah! Just try, jackass! But it’s not like you can take your hands or eyes of your doe-eyed boyfriend long enough for that.”

Markus pouted and crossed his arms. “Hmph! That girl.”

But Connor was smiling shyly in the way that always made Markus’ heart beat faster. At times like this it was hard to believe that Connor was a Peacekeeper and before that a Paladin tasked with hunting Spellcasters back in the days when the zealotry of the Sanctum of Life fed hatred and fear into the minds of the people.

“Come on Connor. Let’s get you changed into something more comfortable. After that, I want to show you something.” Markus took Connor’s gauntleted hand and led him towards the stairwell.

*

It took Markus all his willpower not to drool as he watched Connor change out of his armour and Peacekeeper uniform and into Markus’ clothes.

Connor hardly fared better, gawking like a love-sick idiot while Markus shrugged off supremely annoying toga and sashes in favour of something more comfortable and less restrictive.

“This way.” Markus waved at Connor to follow him to the back on the spacious loft which housed Markus living space and personal workshop.

Connor lips parted and he gazed in wonder at a painting that Markus was working on. It depicted a young man in a ancient-styled tunic with a lyre on his lap and a soft cone-shaped cap on his head, playing music for a beautiful dancing woman. Although the painting was only half-finished, Markus’ artistic skill was apparent in achieving the summit of realism – no, it was beyond realism, for Connor felt his gaze drawn to the painting, almost as if he would be sucked into it.

“It’s beautiful,” marvelled Connor, his soft brown eyes running admiringly on the strokes of grey outlines on the canvas and colours between them.

“It’s a commission from the wife of Senator Brielle. I call it ‘Orpheus courting Eurydice’.” Markus put his hands on his hips to survey his work thus far.

Connor stepped closer, but cautiously, careful to keep his distance lest he inadvertently ruined such a masterpiece. “I can see how your painting alludes to the legend.”

“Would you like to help me finish it?”

“What? But I’m not painter, Markus. I can’t even hold a paintbrush right.”

Markus chuckled and fixed his green and blue eyes on his lover. “Maybe, but that’s not what I’d like you to do. You see, I’m experimenting with a new form of art, one imbued with magic. I call this art-form ‘living painting’.”

Connor tilted his head, casting an inquisitive look at Markus, whose rust-coloured skin seemed to glow when hit by rays of the late afternoon sun that filtered through the window.

“When this painting is finished, the figures will move as though they were alive. And since I’ve depicted Orpheus here playing his lyre, I thought that it would be wonderful if I could incorporate music into it.” Markus turned to Connor and looked at Connor hopefully. “Would you play the lyre for me while I paint and enchant the picture?”

Connor hated himself for being so weak to Markus’ puppy eyes, but really, who could say no when Markus had that look? He sighed. “Alright, I only know a few songs, however. And I can’t say that I’m the best bard in the city either.”

Markus kissed Connor on the cheek. “Just play what you can and try to put some magic into your playing. I’ll do the rest.”

Connor rolled his eyes with a sigh, picking up the lyre that Markus had left for him. Connor got comfortable on a tall stool, balanced the lyre on his lap and propped it in place with his left hand. In the fingers of his right hand, Connor held a pick into which he channelled his magic. Not too much however. “Whenever you are ready, Markus.” Connor’s magically charged fingers hovered next to the strings.

Markus picked up his paintbrush and palette. “Let’s do this.”

Pick in hand, Connor began to pluck a calming, nearly hypnotic melody while Markus’ paintbrush swam across the tightly-drawn canvas strung up on his easel. Magical energy flowed in both the brush and the strings, the colours and the music, obtaining an ethereal quality born out of the synergy of two lovers who completed each other.

Nearly two hours later, Markus put the last dab of paint and gently blew life into the two figures that he drew. At the same time, Connor drew his song to an ending cadence. The two men laid down their respective instruments. Connor came closer until his shoulder brushed lightly against Markus’ to see what was done. If Connor had not been impressed by Markus’ work earlier on, he would be now.

Markus chuckled. “Now watch this.” He touched his fingers on a discreet line of runes painted at the bottom corner of the canvas, and the painting came to life: Orpheus, seated on a mossy rock, began to strum his own lyre to the tune that Connor played while his wife Eurydice danced, her loosely pleated hair and the folds of her dress twirling with every spin and sway body made. The flowers around Orpheus swayed too, as if moved by wind, and in the background birds glided across the blue skies.

“This is amazing,” gasped Connor, his voice filled with wonder.

All of a sudden, Connor grabbed Markus and pulled him close; he kissed Markus deeply for the longest time, arms holding tightly onto Markus as if Connor was afraid of losing him.

Even after they stopped for air, Connor continued to hug Markus. “You’re amazing, Markus,” Connor breathed.

Markus leaned in. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a while,” he whispered. “Kiss me again.”

And so Connor did. Again and again. As many times as both he and Markus desired, with all the overflowing love in their hearts while the Orpheus continued to play his lyre in the background.

END

[muzzleroars]

Have you ever heard of Leverage (TV series)? It is about a five-person team: a thief, a grifter, a hacker, and a retrieval specialist, led by former insurance investigator, who use their skills to fight corporate and governmental injustices inflicted on ordinary citizens. I like to think that Akira would do something similar when he grows older. If you don’t mind me asking, what types of jobs do you see the members of the Phantom Thieves having as they grow up?

i’ve heard of the show but i haven’t seen it myself, although i 100% agree that is totally akira!!! i think akira, at first, holds a lot of odd jobs because he likes meeting new people, seeing different places, and having all kinds of experiences...and it keeps his schedule flexible so that he can work as a burglar. he only steals from those who deserve it, doing meticulous combing of their backgrounds and digging all the dirt on them - he retrieves valuables for himself and often grabs blackmail material too in order to make them change their ways. however, akira works as the daring, hands-on type, becoming a modern day arsene that thrills the public with his daring heists and brings people to justice for crimes that wouldn’t otherwise be brought to light. he does this for years but...he scales a lot of high-rise buildings, a dangerous gamble that finally doesn’t go his way one night, and the fall he takes leaves him with a bad back and using a cane after lots of physical therapy to recover. he moves forward after that to go into activism, using a degree in law to work as an advocate for prisoner’s rights in japan...but definitely still continuing to work as a thief that now orchestrates heists in a similar way to what you mentioned where he stays behind the scenes. SO...i’ve thought plenty about akira obviously sdkfsjfd but as for the others!! 

- ryuji is a physical therapist - i never thought ryuji actually came off as dumb tbh, he just seems unfocused and like he’s given into labels. like i noticed that ryuji can be incredibly insightful and asked some really good questions...and i just want him to achieve so much more as an adult than he ever thought he could. he works especially well with kids, connecting to them easily and having the kind of upbeat, high energy they need to feel happy even after a serious injury. and i imagine ryuji is like. super buff. dude’s ripped. and the kids can see that he has an injury too but it didn’t stop him working out, playing sports, or having a good life even if there are certain things he can’t do (i hc ryuji lives with chronic pain and running is eventually too hard on his leg) he’s honestly a great doctor in general who makes people feel at ease even if he can be overly excitable, it’s just part of his charm lol 

- ann does become a model like she wanted, but i imagine she gets a business degree to learn how to eventually run her own modeling company. she wants a place where the models feel safe, where they aren’t used or abused in any way, and all claims of harassment are taken DAMN seriously and ann will ruin any photographer/company/manager that tries to take advantage of a model. additionally, she really wants to expand the kind of models that can find work in japan - ann herself knows what it’s like to be singled out for being different, but she also knows she doesn’t face half of what many minorities do. she wants them all to be see as beautiful and fashionable, she wants all people to be able to open a magazine and see someone like them held up as the image of beauty. 

- yusuke can’t be anything but a fine artist lmao his work includes a TON of travel, finding inspiration in all corners of the globe as well as making tons upon tons of international friends wherever he goes. he stays with them more often than not, barely even having a permanent residence, and none of the thieves are surprised when they get a text from him backpacking in australia or exploring a city in peru. it makes his work super eclectic, a beautiful blend of styles and compositions that he’s seen around the world (madarame WISHES he actually had the range!!), although his favorite will always be traditional japanese painting since that’s what his mother loved. 

- makoto initially goes into the police force wanting to be a commissioner...but even she is shocked to learn how disgustingly corrupt the force is. she knows what akira faced and the trumped up charges that would have been brought to the phantom thieves, but actually getting into on the other side was something else entirely. so she decides to work for internal affairs to climb the ladder to the top as quickly as possible. yes, she wants justice in the streets, but that will never be accomplished is the police are simply allowed to do as they please, so she decides she must take them to task first. it’s still working in a corrupt system, but she is MERCILESS, never caring how many people attempt to brick her out - she knows every loophole and makes various connections to get her where she needs to be to bring crooked officers before a court of law. 

- futaba continues to live with sojiro for a long time, but she easily develops her own software and makes good money from it. i sort of got the idea that futaba could definitely make a living like this from p5d honestly, where she says she made the top app in the app store but just did so anonymously (or something like that!!) so she didn’t get paid. i think she would just develop software and games and things like that on her own because traditional work just doesn’t suit the way she thinks and operates, and she’s happy to work all on her own. she also definitely, definitely helps akira with his heists and stealing info on assholes that deserve to be taken down while doing her own hacking on the side. 

- haru continues to oversee the company, but i think she scales it back quite a bit in order to be sure they maintain good quality and good policies. like ann’s business, all of her employees feel safe and comfortable to report any grievances and it’s known as one of the best places to work as haru keeps a close eye on things. she does get the cafe she wanted, although she wishes she could be there in person more. she works closely with the manager and all the employees know her though, making an appearance at least a couple times a week to relax and get that one on one interaction with her workers and customers. it has a beautiful little garden too that anyone can help tend, plus haru makes sure any unused food goes to help those in need (and those in need can always come to the cafe for a meal, just like her grandfather wanted).

- goro goes into law, where he works as a lawyer in family court. i always really liked the idea of him being a lawyer since i think his relationship with sae was an important one, but it’s definitely just a passion for him too because he’s tenacious in getting the outcome that’s in the best interest of children in any given case. he knows how little the legal system tends to care about kids in these disputes, and it’s even worse when they are orphans or in foster care, so he wants to be the one person on their side even if he has to fight against the whole system for them. and he. really definitely does fight that system tooth and nail, known for being brutal in court and exceedingly thorough in the evidence he compiles. no one took him seriously at first because oh he’s just that wannabe kid detective, but they all learned VERY fast how dangerous an opponent he really is. surprisingly, though, everyone sees the total 180 he does talking to kids, his voice soft and warm but full of confidence, and he’s done amazingly well helping out social workers that otherwise can’t find an advocate

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 8

Be warned, I gave the character a name in this chapter. I didn’t know that wasn’t allowed, it was my first fic! Someone told me I’d ruined it for them. Jokes on them, the bad writing was doing that anyway!

I think I stopped breathing when I heard that. ‘We think we know who you are’. I felt my heart start to race, and sweat stood out on my forehead. Last time Bruce had asked me my name, I’d blacked out. My identity had been playing on my mind for weeks now – I could remember most of my time with Hydra but there was a dark hole before that and I was terrified to look into it.

“You ok? Is there anything you need?” Sam’s voice broke through the whirlwind in my head, and I looked up. He was sitting on the bed opposite my chair, Bucky standing, arms folded, next to him. Both were looking at me, waiting. I sat up straighter and took a steadying breath, tried to calm my mind. It didn’t matter who I was, I was a weapon, weapons were without emotion… but I wasn’t convinced. I wanted to ask them not to tell me, because there could be no good story behind losing my identity, my past, but if Sam and Bucky knew, then the team would know, and I couldn’t live with them knowing while I didn’t.

“OK. Yes, I’m OK.” I breathed deeply again. “Start from the beginning”.

Sam spoke again. He was the one chosen as the most compassionate, they must have thought he’d be able to gauge the best way to tell me.

“Tony’s had Jarvis searching databases: missing person’s reports, medical records, school photos, anything and everything they could find” He paused. “They found a possibility, a coupla days ago, and have been looking into it, trying to verify things. Looks like Hydra covered their tracks pretty well, and… well… there wasn’t anyone left to try and find you once they’d finished”. That made me look up sharply. So there was no family out there waiting to welcome me home with open arms. That should have made me sad but in fact it was a relief. I couldn’t become part of a family, decorate Christmas trees and carve pumpkins, I didn’t have that in me. I had a feeling that sadness would come though, in time.

Sam continued. “Jarvis found a missing person’s report, from Colorado. Six years ago. A girl was taken, when she was 14. She’d been identified by SHIELD as a person of interest because she had certain abilities. The Hydra faction inside SHIELD obviously picked up on this and she was taken. Hydra deleted most of the SHIELD references to the girl, we guess so nobody else went looking, but Jarvis found references in the local news, just a few. Nat’s been out to the town and looked through the police files – all the computer files were deleted but she found paper records, and school records and photos. Hydra were careless, they left too much behind, they obviously thought no one would ever go looking. I’m sorry, but there’s no relatives there, but we did find some medical records that were in storage – again, they wiped out the computer data but obviously didn’t clear everything. We’ve been able to match DNA from a relative’s record. We’ve pulled everything together that we’ve found. Do you want to look through it on your own?”

They both watched me. I could practically feel my brain trying to process all this. Colorado? It meant nothing to me. I felt as if each sentence was slowly filtering through my consciousness. “Wait, six years? Are you saying this girl… I… have been with Hydra for six years?”

Bucky spoke. “It fits what we’ve been able to find out about the Hydra facility. They took a few kids like you when they could, kids SHIELD had picked up on. That gave them plenty of time to do what they needed to do”.

Six years. Six years lost to becoming the ultimate weapon. Family gone, history wiped out, everything. “What’s my name?”

“Do you want us to tell you, or do you want to read about it first? Just… don’t be disappointed if hearing your name doesn’t bring it all back. It’ll take time, don’t put yourself under pressure to take it all in at once, ok?” Sam looked concerned, maybe they were afraid I’d break down or black out or something. Maybe I was afraid too. I didn’t know what to expect – everything to come back, nothing to come back. What if it triggered some kind of killing rage?

“You should probably go. I’ll read it on my own. Thank you, all of you, for finding… for looking”. They both started walking towards the door, I knew they’d give me all the time I needed. “Wait”. They both paused, Sam’s hand on the doorknob, and looked at me. “Just… say my name will you? I want to hear it spoken, not see it written down, first time”.

Bucky spoke. “Ruby. Your name is Ruby.” They shut the door behind them.

---

I stood there for a few minutes, rolling that name around in my head. When Bucky had said ‘Ruby’, there’d been no bright lights or fireworks going off. I was aware I was holding my breath and let it out slowly, then walked into the bathroom, pulled down the towel covering the mirror, and looked at my face for the second time that afternoon. Chopped hair, bruises, broken teeth. I said ‘Ruby’ out loud, my voice betraying me by cracking slightly. Nothing. Anyone who’d known me then wouldn’t know this broken weapon as Ruby now. Maybe I’d have been better off not knowing, but now that I did…

I turned, and walked back into the bedroom, sat in the chair and pulled up the screen that Tony had shown me how to use. “Jarvis, can you please pull up everything you’ve found related to Ruby’s… my background? And Jarvis, thank you for finding me”.

‘A pleasure to help, Miss Ruby’. That made me jump. Bucky had said my name, but Jarvis had called me it. This would take some getting used to.

‘I have taken the liberty of creating an outline of your past’. The document appeared on the screen. ‘You’ll see links to all the evidence alongside the document. Please do ask for any clarification’.

I was lost in the files for hours, unmoving except for my fingers sliding across the screen, reading school reports, dentist’s records, newspaper clippings, the ephemera of a life that Hydra hadn’t managed to erase. Jarvis had ordered everything and I went through systematically, reading every document more than once, cross-checking facts, but all the time ignoring the box on the screen marked ‘images’. So here it was, the story of a life – my life, so it seemed, although so far beyond the occasional tickle at the back of my mind, a vague sense of familiarity, this could as easily be about someone I’d never met.

So I was 20. I felt older, but was also only aware of six years of life. I’d been born and brought up in a small town in Colorado. Unremarkable childhood. An older brother, two parents. I read their names but nothing clicked. Dates and school names followed, details of minor operations – tonsils, a broken arm falling from a jungle gym. So far, so normal. Then age 10, it seemed there were notes from SHIELD, reconstructed by Jarvis. ‘Unusual’ activity had prompted SHIELD to investigate and found that I had mental abilities that were starting to develop. A teenager bullying my brother had been checked into hospital after breaking his own nose headbutting a wall, and mumbling about how the ‘kid’ had weird eyes that had looked at him. A schoolfriend, unable to swim, told her parents that when she fell out of a boat on a school trip, I’d stopped her sinking. A fire in our kitchen started with a faulty toaster oven was suddenly extinguished when I broke free of my Dad’s arms and ran back into the house. So far, so weird, but there were rational explanations given for each one by the people involved. Concussion from a fall leading to the bully imagining things; a child’s active imagination brought on by fear; a sudden gust of wind blowing out the fire. SHIELD knew better. I was on a watch list now, with suspected telekinesis and other unknown powers.

And that list was what had got me here. A Hydra agent inside SHIELD flagged this up and at the age of 14, they pounced. I’d been walking home from school at the end of term and vanished. Jarvis had noted that I was probably tranquilised to prevent me using any mind forces, but most records had been deleted. My parents must, surely, have filed missing person reports; made pleas on the local news for my safe return. Maybe my school friends held a candlelit vigil and secretly revelled in the excitement of all the fuss, unable to quite comprehend the reality. There were few notes to back this up, Hydra had done their job well, but Nat had spoken to some old school friends who reported a range of stories. ‘Hadn’t I been found but the family had moved away?’ ‘I heard she died and so the family left?’ ‘No, she never came back, didn’t her parents die too?’ It seemed Hydra misinformation had confused the facts. There were no records of any family left, anywhere that could be found. The Missing Person report had been concluded and deleted. Police officers ‘remembered’ hearing that I’d been found with relatives in another state, although they couldn’t remember who’d confirmed it. Turns out it’s easier to lose someone than you’d think. There were no references to my family after that though, it seemed that they'd disappeared. I didn't think there could be a good story behind that.

I straightened my back and heard it click. I’d been sitting in the same position for hours now and needed to move before I carried on. I went back into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, then paced the room, thinking. So far nothing had stirred, but I couldn’t avoid the pictures any longer, although I was afraid of what they’d reveal.

I sat down and picked up the screen again. My finger hovered over the ‘images’ icon, then angry at my own hesitation, I clicked. Yearbook photos, newspaper photos, x-rays, neighbourhood photos from yard sales and street parties. Driver’s licences for my parents. A passport photo for my brother. Jarvis had collated everything he could find. I blinked once, and clicked on the first image.

Action

[sallyhasopinions]

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman

Today I was trying to ease myself back into this whole process after skipping a day by choosing a shorter movie than average, the 2003 direct-to-video Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman. This was a mistake, as it took me in the neighborhood of four hours to watch it and take notes. This movie is an hour and fifteen minutes in length, but I take notes like I’m going to be tested later and I had to keep pausing to catch up. It’s animated and filled with superheroes, so the pacing was faster than I was prepared for.

Spoilers below; you’ve been warned.

I took fifteen pages of notes for this plot description.

Note - In the interest of relative brevity I am going to assume that readers have at least a passing familiarity with Batman.

The film opens on a seemingly innocuous car hauler and following car driving through the night before being intercepted by a mysterious Bat~woman~, who interferes with the disguised cargo, revealing it to be weaponry, and battles the men in both vehicles. This fight draws the attention of Batman and Robin, coincidentally cruising by in their jet, who interfere to save the lives of the truck drivers and make note of this mysterious woman who is totally jacking their brand.

As Bats stresses over who could possibly be behind the mask, the Penguin is visited by criminal colleagues Thorne and Duquesne, who break the news about the ruined shipment and the newest Bat on the block. The Batwoman also appears on the news, and Commissioner Gordon even questions Batman directly about who she is, though he has no information.

At Wayne Tech, Bruce sits through a presentation by clumsy employee Dr. Roxanne (Rocky) Ballantine, where she demonstrates a new alloy of “programmable” metal that can be made to take different shapes. Bruce invites her to dinner, but their evening is interrupted by the appearance of the Bat-Signal.

Commissioner Gordon, along with detectives Sonia Alcana and Bullock, have recovered the weapons destroyed in Batwoman’s battle and identified them as high-tech plasma rifles of unknown origin. Batman deduces from the distinctive keychain holding the truck’s keys that they have come from a business owned by the Penguin, Thorne, and Duquesne.

Investigating the shady business, Batman and Robin find Batwoman already there and causing trouble. The boys step in to help when she is surrounded by thugs, only to find out from her that she has rigged bombs in the rooms below them, and they all need to make their escape. As the building is destroyed, she explains that they were manufacturing weapons for illegal export. Batman demands to know who she is, but she tells him he’ll have to figure it out himself and escapes. He tracks her to Duquesne’s home, where he gets into a tussle with some bodyguards and Duquesne himself demands that Batman leave his property.

Now suspecting Duquesne’s daughter Kathy to be the Batwoman, Bruce and Alfred spend the next day tailing her as she goes on a shopping spree. She incidentally recruits Bruce to help her escape her bodyguards in a shopping center, and he agrees. The two of them speed off in her car and she tells him about herself, her mother, and how she blames her father for her mother’s death before they are located by her bodyguards and she agrees to go home.

Batman immediately passes on his suspicions about Kathy and her potential motive of revenge for her mother’s death to Commissioner Gordon, Sonia, and Bullock, and shares the information regarding the Penguin’s illicit weapons factory. The police put a tail on Kathy while Bruce researches her on his own.

Batwoman breaks into Thorne’s office to photograph evidence from his files as Thorne and the Penguin decide their next steps in completing their arms deal in light of the destruction of their factory. She is discovered, but escapes after a scuffle with the men. Later, Kathy overhears her father Duquesne raging as he discovers that the Penguin, with Thorne’s support, has called in additional help to complete the deal.

At Wayne Tech, Rocky shows Robin how to reach a game’s bonus level. Bruce reminds him that Alfred is waiting for him. Rocky tells Bruce she has been working late, but their casual chat is interrupted by the arrival of Kathy Duquesne, who has dressed up and come to ask Bruce out that evening.

Sonia and Bullock follow Kathy and Bruce to the Iceberg Lounge, a club owned by the Penguin and filled with Duquesne’s associates. They are greeted warmly by the Penguin himself. Bruce asks Kathy about her intentions in bringing him to a place full of her father’s associates that are sure to report to him, and she takes offense to his tone and excuses herself from their table. Meanwhile, the Penguin takes a telephone call from his new associate, who has agreed to assist with their arms deal and will meet him at the club shortly. Batwoman, lurking in the shadows of the Penguin’s office, is spotted as he completes his phone call. She restrains him with a metallic device and begins questioning him about his new associate, but the Penguin manages to push a panic button under his desk, causing two of his lackeys to come to his aid just as he reveals that it is Bane who will be helping to facilitate the arms deal.

The fight that ensues sends Batwoman through the office wall and crashing onto the club’s dance floor, causing immediate chaos and confusion. Sonia and Bullock outside the club call for backup as patrons flee the continuing battle. Just as the Penguin has Batwoman cornered, Batman swoops in to prevent him from shooting her. Batwoman is able to escape and as she flies away, Batman sees that Kathy is standing in a nearby doorway - she cannot have been Batwoman. Distracted by this revelation, Batman is caught off-guard by a chair to the back and is knocked into the pool at the center of the club. The Penguin starts shooting into the water as Batman sets up an underwater explosive to destroy the pool and serve as a distraction to allow him to slip away. 

Bruce escorts Kathy safely home, where they exchange apologies about the evening at the door. They nearly kiss, but are interrupted when one of the bodyguards enters and tells her that Duquesne is looking for her. Kathy leaves with the bodyguard once again. 

Batman and Sonia discuss the information they’ve uncovered at the lounge. Sonia points out that Kathy must not be Batwoman as they were seen at the lounge at the same time. Bruce provides Sonia with a piece of the restraining device that Batwoman had used on the Penguin as a piece of potential evidence. Sonia intimates that Batman saved her life nine years prior, during an arson fire set by Thorne’s lackeys, and that this incident is what led to her becoming a detective. Working in the batcave, Bruce identifies the material used in Batwoman’s restraining device as the same programmable alloy that Rocky was working with at Wayne Tech.

Rocky goes to prison visitation to see her boyfriend Kevin, who has been serving the past four years after being convicted of a crime actually committed by the Penguin. She tells him she is trying to get someone who works for the Penguin to talk, and Kevin expresses his displeasure that she is putting herself in danger by spying on known criminals. Kevin breaks up with her, telling her not to waste her time when it will be another five years before he will even be eligible for parole. She returns home and finds Batman waiting for her. He accuses her of being Batwoman, explaining he is aware that her boyfriend was framed and that he has found her more advanced designs for her alloy on her home computer. Rocky denies that she has done anything illegal, and Batman warns her about the dangers of continued vigilantism as Batwoman.

Thorne and the Penguin meet up with Duquesne to go meet with their new associate, tailed by Batwoman. After discussing the terms of their agreement, Bane and the Penguin go over their plans to transport the weapons that night, sailing them out to international waters onboard a luxury cruise ship. Batwoman listens in.

Batman abruptly realizes that he knew Rocky’s whereabouts during one of the previous Batwoman sightings, thus she cannot have been Batwoman either. Alfred passively remarks that she can’t be in two places at once unless she has the power to duplicate herself, causing Batman to consider that Kathy and Rocky could both be using the Batwoman persona. He asks Robin to investigate any possible link between the two women and goes to search for further evidence himself.

Batwoman returns to her secret lair with the details of the criminals’ plans in hand. Rocky appears from the shadows and says that Batman is onto her and will surely ruin their plans. As she worries, Kathy also enters the scene and agrees with her that Batman has been catching on too quickly. Batwoman points out that he thought Kathy was Batwoman only two days before and was now accusing Rocky, so he would probably move on to suspecting someone else soon. Removing her mask, Batwoman - revealed to be Sonia - assures them that she would know about it if he had any new theories. They are too close to success to quit now, and just have to stop the shipment tonight.

Batman breaks into Kathy’s room and begins searching for evidence that might tie her to Rocky or the Batwoman persona. As he stands in her art studio, flipping through her sketchbook, Robin contacts him to report that he has found no connection between them. Batman, however, recognizes one of the sketches, and tells Robin that the two women just needed someone to introduce them.

Kathy and Sonia review their plans to infiltrate the cruise ship carrying the weapons. Rocky provides Kathy with a bomb to destroy the weapons onboard, and Kathy sets out as Batwoman to disrupt the shipment. She boards just as the ship is leaving the harbor and successfully reaches the weapons cache, but as she is preparing to set the explosive she is suddenly attacked by Bane.

Thorne, the Penguin, and Duquesne are waiting for word of their success when the telephone rings. Bane has called them to report that he has captured the Batwoman and is waiting for them in the harbor. The three men hurry to leave.

Sonia is watching the ship from a rooftop when Batman joins her and accuses her of knowing Kathy. He shows her the drawing from Kathy’s sketchbook - a younger Sonia - and says that the two of them took art classes together. He then accuses that she also knows Rocky, Sonia attempts to deny this, but Batman knows that they were roommates as college freshmen. He continues his accusations by identifying her as the mastermind of their Batwoman scheme. Sonia, obligingly, delivers her Motive Rant about her desire to get revenge on Thorne for having ruined her parents’ business with his arson fire. As they stand in a moment of tension, Sonia’s phone rings. Rocky has called to report that something has gone terribly wrong with their plan, and asks Sonia what they are going to do.

The Penguin, Thorn, and Duquesne take a speedboat to rendezvous with the cruise ship in the harbor. Unknown to them, Batman and Robin follow via submarine. Onboard the cruise ship, the trio meet with Bane, who has captured Batwoman. Bane explains that he called them once he figured out who she was, and removes Batwoman’s mask, revealing Kathy to her father and his associates. Thorne and the Penguin immediately accuse Duquesne of duplicity, while Bane shows them the bomb she intended to plant onboard.

Duquesne and Kathy argue bitterly about their mutual feelings of betrayal. The Penguin realizes that he also saw Kathy and Batwoman at the club at the same time, and thus she must have accomplices. He threatens her with toxic gases, much to the dismay of Duquesne. Bane restrains Duquesne while the Penguin continues interrogating her, only to be interrupted once again by the arrival of Batman, who disarms Thorne and begins to battle Bane. Kathy, her hands cuffed behind her back, manages to kick the Penguin away and get her shackled hands in front of her before Batman grabs her mid-Tarzan Swing. They flee as Thorne shoots one of the plasma rifles at them, causing large amounts of destruction.

Bane contacts the crew to have them begin sailing out towards international waters as quickly as possible. Robin tails the cruise ship in the submarine, while in-costume Rocky and Sonia fly in, awaiting a signal from Batman. Thorne and Duquesne argue, while the Penguin notices that the bomb is missing, causing Bane to threaten Duquesne. Batman and Kathy have escaped to an engine room, where he removes her handcuffs and informs her that her friends are here to rescue her. Kathy plants the bomb, warning him that it can’t be removed without detonating and they now have two minutes before the explosion.

Thorne and the Penguin retreat to the speedboat, where they are spotted by the other Batwomen, who disarm them and demand to know Kathy’s location. Kathy and Batman escape to an outer pool deck, only to discover a chained and beaten Duquesne being swung above the pool by Bane. Bane tosses Duquesne into the pool, and Kathy dives in after him while Batman meets Bane. Underwater, Kathy attempts to unchain her father while Batman and Bane fight. When Bane is knocked from the higher deck of the ship while tangled in his own chain, Duquesne and Kathy are both rapidly pulled out of the water. Batman manages to ensure that they are on the deck before the bomb detonates, knocking him off the higher deck.

There are several inexplicable explosions that follow the bomb blast. Fire rapidly overtakes the weapon stores, which leads to another, larger explosion. The crew abandons ship. Rocky is seen flying with her cape and cowl on fire, which she removes. Sonia has been knocked into the water by the blast. Rocky swims to rescue her, but the Penguin spots her from the speedboat and attempts to run them over. Robin deflects the speedboat with the submarine, and takes Sonia aboard, leaving Rocky free to pursue the speedboat.

Bane and Batman continue their battle, which Batman, outmatched and injured, attempts to flee. Kathy is dangling by her cape from a piece of debris over a crater in the damaged ship. Duquesne looks over the ledge above her, sees her in this predicament, and crawls away. Her cape begins tearing, and she struggles to hold onto it, until a life ring is thrown down. Kathy grabs onto the life ring and Duquesne hauls her up to safety.

Thorne and the Penguin lament the sinking ship as they depart on the speedboat, commenting that at least it will take some Bats with it as it sinks. Rocky suddenly grapples onto the back of their boat from her rocket glider. Thorne attempts to shoot her down, but she uses the cable to entangle a buoy, which jerks the speedboat to a sudden stop and throws Thorne and the Penguin into the harbor.

Batman and Bane continue to fight, with Batman deploying a restraint device much like the one previously used on the Penguin by Batwoman. This manages to incapacitate Bane long enough that Batman can grapple himself away just before the ship strikes a bridge and runs aground. The impact causes Bane to fall into a pit of fire that is entirely without context. Batman dangles from his grappling device attached to the bridge, injured by Bane and struggling to hold on. Sonia, on her own rocket glider, manages to rescue him before he falls into the flaming debris below. Rocky and Sonia, Batman in tow, both confirm that Kathy and Duquesne are secure on another boat. Firefighters attempt to extinguish the blazing wreck as Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock observe the scene from a police boat. Sonia, unmasked, flies over to them to deliver the injured Batman to Commissioner Gordon.

At police headquarters, Sonia packs up her desk. Batman appears and expresses his belief that the city is losing a good cop with her exit. She reminds him that she is lucky she is not being prosecuted for her actions. Batman gives her an envelope, which he explains contains exculpatory evidence that will allow Rocky’s boyfriend Kevin to be released, and leaves.

Rocky and Kathy loiter outside the prison. Kathy explains that she used to hate her father, but now feels sorry for him since he’s been locked up. She inquires about Bruce, who she says has not been in contact with her since their disastrous date. The pair are interrupted by Kevin, freshly released. He and Rocky embrace, apparently no longer broken up. Kathy leaves them, only to find Bruce leaning against her car, waiting for her. The two of them drive off together as the credits music begins.

Do I even have the energy to review this?

It’s now been seven hours since I started watching this movie, which I was neither over- nor underwhelmed by. Consider me demiwhelmed maybe. The scene at the Iceberg Lounge includes an inexplicable pop song called Betcha Never which is performed by a cartoon cameo of the actual artist, Cherie, who was not to my knowledge even remotely recognizable or notable to the target audience of animated Batman films at the time. Overall it has not aged super well. 

The Metrics:

Bechdel Test: Failed. The three women don’t get a ton of screen time together, and when they do, they are exclusively talking about men.

Mako Mori Test: Failed. Each of these women is motivated solely by a desire to act against men who have wronged them, and do so whilst partially usurping the identity of another man. One of them is acting against a man who wronged another man and not herself.

Representation, etc:

For a movie that’s nominally about three women it’s kind of a shitshow in how it perceives and portrays women, even aside from the issues of their motivations mentioned above. Kathy is a major victim of this in particular.

Early on in the film, Alfred makes a reference to the Rudyard Kipling poem The Female of the Species. This is a fairly common cultural reference, but a sexist poem espousing sexist views. 

Kathy Duquesne is shown to be an avid and frivolous shopping enthusiast. At one point, while shopping, she says “Worst thing that could happen is I’ll need a size eight,” which is one of the most disturbingly open instances of body-shaming I’ve ever heard in media meant for CHILDREN.

Kathy is catcalled repeatedly by men who are presumably associates of her FATHER at the Iceberg Lounge, and this is not treated as harmful or even particularly bothersome to her.

Kathy’s father literally raises his hand to backhand her and tells her to shut up after she has been unmasked. This is, again, children’s media.

Bruce receives a brief call from Barbara Gordon in which she behaves jealously about the idea of a Batwoman and is openly flirtatious with him. Bruce appears to be in his 30s, Barbara is away at college and presumably no older than 21. Bruce gets out of this conversation by rustling papers and pretending his cell signal is breaking up.

All three female characters have essentially identical body models and extremely similar facial features. It would be extremely difficult to tell them apart if they weren’t designed as a white/black/latina trio.

When Rocky rescues Sonia who is at risk of drowning in the harbor, the way they are drawn and physically interact seems very much a creation by and for the male gaze. They also somehow manage to float in the water at about lower ribcage level, keeping those breasts well above the surface in clear defiance of the laws of physics.

There’s a ~fun~ little nugget of homophobia at one point when Rocky and Bruce are chatting. Rocky mentions that she is working late, but her boyfriend is very understanding. She then asks, “what about yours?” Before Bruce even reacts, she panics and corrects herself, clarifying that she meant girlfriend. Bruce, to his credit, responds that he doesn’t have anybody special.

Final Scores: 

Deaths: Batman doesn’t like killing people, so probably none. Bane did fall in that weird pit of flames though.

Smooches: None. Nearly one, interrupted.

Sex: None; this is for kids.

Substance Use/Abuse: Nope.

Violence: Moderate to heavy by kids standards, but I’d say about average for the superhero genre.

Profanity: None. 

Watch with Kids: I have real problems with the way women are portrayed in this and I probably wouldn’t let a child watch it.

Watch with Parents: Nothing in here is NSFP.

Sally Says: This is probably for DCAU/Batman fans only. Y’all, it’s been over nine hours since I started watching this freaking movie. It’s technically tomorrow for me now.