mpdgcore

[henrysglock]

Okay so phantomgate is always open. It never closes. It just gets stronger and weaker.

AND HOLY SHIT DID IT JUST GET STRONGER LMAOOOOO THESE SCREENSHOTS HAVE BEEN FLOATING AROUND BYLER TUMBLR SINCE AUGUST BUT I JUST PUT IT TOGETHER NOW 😭😭😭

A letter from a secret admirer who’s not Mike? Inviting Will out into a secluded spot??

Suspicions of it being the Mindflayer, who we all know is just HENRY??? *staring pointedly at “it wouldn’t be the first time”*

ROMANTIC SURPRISE FROM THE SECRET ADMIRER? WHO TURNS OUT TO BE FLAYED WILL?? Y’KNOW, AS IN POSSESSED BY HENRY??? BE SERIOUS LMFAOOOO

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE I NEED THE STRANGER THINGS PR PEOPLE TO BE SERIOUS FOR ONCE OH MY GODDDDDD

LORD MAKE WAY IM COMING UP

Also: Will choosing Mike over his secret admirer we love to see the Christine/Raoul-ification of Miwi 😭

[shidoukanae]

I would like to make an addendum to this piece with the new chapter out and say that I was wrong about Phillip, he's great, 10/10 he went from being a giant red flag of a character to being genuinely relatable and man do i feel bad about side-eyeing him for that line he said last chapter

Also this chapter finally wrapped up another plot thread I was waiting for it to return to and waaaaaah seeing someone else's POV on Helene is so nice (and we finally got another flashback of OG Helene for like,, the first time in literally forever). Helene being called out as a lonely person who hides her kind feelings behind a cold expression...man suddenly my fondness for Helene is increasing thousandfold

Like literally how the fuck does this manga keep making Helene better and better there's literally nothing disappointing about her character and im STILL shook about it

[thefreakandthehair]

a little fluff for @starrystevie's birthday! hope it's the absolute best day! ✨

Eddie misses Steve.

It's equal parts cute, and maybe a little pitiful because it's only three days in Chicago for his friend's Bachelor Party, but it's already been two days and he misses Steve. Bandit digs his claws into Eddie's thigh as he makes biscuits and begs for pets, curling up comfortably next to Eddie's lap and leaving Steve's side of the couch overwhelmingly cold and empty.

"I know, kid. I know," Eddie coos, scratching their cat behind the left ear as he purrs.

He's glad that Steve had been able to get the time off from work to go, and he's glad that Steve's made friends on his recreational basketball league, and he's not jealous. At all. Not even a little bit.

... Okay, maybe he is a little bit jealous that Brandon gets to see him sweaty and gross in the June heat, running around doing whatever jock-activity they've planned in the backyard of their rented house all weekend, but who can blame him? Steve never gives him a reason to feel insecure so he knows this isn't about Steve. It's not rooted in anything even remotely related to him or their relationship— it's all about Eddie and the nasty voice in the back of his head that pulls out a bullhorn and screams not good enough on a loop.

Condensation from the beer in his free hand drips down his wrist as he rests his elbow on the arm of the couch. It's not the first time he's felt this way, and Steve himself has admitted to feeling the same way from time to time, so he knows that it'll pass. He just needs to focus on something else: DND campaign planning, sketching, writing, cracking out the ol' guitar. He could rewatch Howard the Duck for the hundredth time, or maybe even Labyrinth—

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Eddie's phone buzzes on the coffee table and he fully expects it to be Gareth or Jeff, or maybe Robin. They have plans later that night, both of them missing Steve and all. What he doesn't expect is a series of text messages and 19 photos from Steve.

How funny. It's been five years since they'd become EddieandSteve but seeing Steve's name and smiling photo on his phone sets his little hummingbird heart aflutter even still.

steve 👑: it's so goddamn hot here steve 👑: we're playing cornhole now and just threw a football around steve 👑: sweating all the beer and vodka out as a I go, that's healthy, right? don't worry, I'm drinking a shit ton of water.

Steve includes a selfie of himself, smiling closed-lipped with a baseball cap on backwards and the neck of his tee-shirt drenched in sweat. Eddie wants to lick him dry and that's a thought he'll never tell a living soul, probably not even Steve. No, no definitely not Steve. He'll never live that one down.

steve 👑: oh, and fishing was good! we made some bets on who could catch the most and then who could catch the biggest. I tied for first place for the biggest and I caught 17. brandon got 20 so he won that bet. I'm only letting it go because it's his bachelor party lmao

Eddie swipes to the next photo, one of Steve and Brandon holding their two biggest catches. Steve's sunglasses are sliding down his nose, no doubt from the sun warming his glistening skin, and he's smiling wide against the railing of a boat. As much as he misses him, Eddie can't help but mirror his smile. Call him lovesick or 'down bad', as Robin says, but seeing Steve happy makes him happy.

He continues swiping and reading the little blurb attached to each photo, some of which don't even include Steve but Eddie appreciates them all the same. They don't include Steve, but it feels a lot like Steve trying include Eddie in the weekend. The last picture is one of the entire group, all dozen or so guys lined up on the ship. Brandon stands in the center surrounded by the rest of the group with Steve shuffled in no meaningful spot but to Eddie, Steve is the center of every photo, every moment, everything.

Eddie starts to type a response when his phone dings again. This time, Steve sends a voice message and Eddie presses play so quickly, he nearly knocks poor Bandit off his lap.

Hey, takin' a break from cornhole. I won, by the way, had to make up for losing to Brandon in the fishing bet.

Steve laughs and Eddie's stomach flips. Robin's right. He's down very, very bad for this man.

But I just uh, I miss you, and I know maybe that's sorta lame but I do. The party's great and all, but I can't wait to get back home tomorrow. Tell the kid I said hi. I love you, Ed.

He replays it a few times and shamelessly taps Keep so it doesn't disappear before sending his own voice message.

It's no more lame than me sitting here with Bandit sharing how much we miss you, so you get a pass. I mean, you get a pass on everything all the time, but don't let that go to your pretty head, okay? I'm so fucking glad you're having fun and sowing your jocky oats, but selfishly, I can't wait for you to get home. I'll make it worth your while.

He huffs air through his nose and laughs low in his throat.

Oh, and Robin's coming by in a little bit so I'm gonna grab a bottle of wine. Don't be surprised if you get a FaceTime call later. I love you too, Stevie. So goddamn much.

Eddie sure does miss Steve, but it stings a little less knowing that Steve misses him, too.

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Epilogue

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Here we go, the end of the ride. 💚

Song Inspo: “Lost on You” by Cubaneros

Word Count: 1.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, but mostly fluff, and an ending…

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Epilogue: As Good As It Gets

Arthur was still lying low in Belize, but he was able to do you one last favor. A wire of money allowed you, John, and Ben to travel across the Atlantic—to Medellin, Colombia. There Ben took you to one of his old vacation houses.

It was a large, beautiful Spanish style house. Best of all, it was in a remote location on the cusp of a mountainside, complete with a scenic waterfall. It was like something out of Vought Geographic. You needed to take a helicopter just to get to this place.

It was the best security Ben could think of.

He had plans to renovate and beef up the surveillance of the property itself. Then you would be able to have your brother Chris and his family visit. You hadn't been able to see him or your nephew before leaving the U.S. again, but you had called Chris from the airport to let him know you were alive and well, and that you would see him soon, when it was safe.

But before all of that, there was one very important item of business you and Ben were handling together in the living room, while John was outside swimming laps in the pool.

A phone dock rested on the coffee table. The call was on speaker.

“That child represents a multi-million-dollar investment,” said Stan Edgar.

“You should’ve thought about that before you shipped us off to motherfucking Siberia,” Ben snapped. “Hell, before you decided to steal my goddamn DNA. But guess fucking what. He’s my son. He belongs with me.”

You gave him a look of pride, resting a hand on his thigh in support. He glanced at you and grabbed your hand.

“You’re not leaving me with much recourse here, Soldier Boy,” Stan replied.

Ben leaned forward. He took that as a very real threat.

“If you come after me or my family, I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen,” he said. “First off, you’re going to lose. Fucking miserably. Next, I’m going to make my way back States’ side, and I’m coming for you, Stan. You and your whole fucking world, down to the family dog. Then I’ll burn Vought to the ground and piss on whatever’s left. And then the whole world can know that I’m alive, and just who lied to them for a damn decade.”

You were uneasy with that threat, but you knew he meant it.

The other line was silent.

“Or, you can unfreeze my bank accounts and put them back in my name,” said Ben. “I’ll do you the giant fucking favor of staying where I’m at, and I never have to hear from any of you cocksuckers again.”

After another long moment, an exhale of breath came from the speaker.

“You’ll have access to your accounts by end of business today,” Stan said.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Ben said, his tone infused with both anger and sarcasm.

He hung up the phone with a mild slam, and he leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth and beard. You smiled and managed to get up off the comfy couch, just to settle yourself into a more comfortable seat across his lap. Ben welcomed you with a supportive hand molding to your lower back, and another running up your thigh. You cupped his cheek.

“Look at my man, all protective and clever at negotiations,” you teased. You leaned in to kiss the other cheek. Ben smiled reluctantly.

“Yeah, well, I think he got the idea.”

“Mhmm,” you agreed. Your lips moved over his, and you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. When you slowly pulled away to speak, your voice was husky, laden with sensuous teasing. “Now we can go on a proper honeymoon.”

Ben chuckled against your lips. “Already want to spend my money, huh?”

“It’s our money now,” you playfully retorted. (But you were serious.)

He scoffed, though he thumbed at the shining ring on your finger. You two got married the very night you set foot in Colombia.

“Besides, if you can’t spoil your pregnant wife, who can you spoil?” you said, with a sly smile.

Ben eyed you wryly. “So that’s why you said yes.”

You framed his face in your hands. Now you were serious.

“I would’ve married you even if you never had another dime to your name,” you said. “Even if we had to spend the rest of our lives in hiding.”

When he searched your eyes, he eventually found whatever he was looking for. He guided you down for a real kiss, hungry and claiming. His hands began to move down your body with purpose.

A whoosh of air preceded a pair of smallish feet landing in front of the couch. You and Ben parted, seeing John standing there all wet from the pool.

“Why’re there so many brown people here?” he asked. “I can see them in the town down there.”

You and Ben shared a perturbed look. You were the first to recover, turning to John.

“Well, we’re in South America. You’re going to see people of all shades and skin tones, and different races too.”

John seemed to process that information for a few seconds. Then he shrugged.

“Okay,” he said. “Hey, can we have hot dogs for dinner?”

“It might be hard to get that here, but uh, I’ll have someone look into it,” Ben said. “Hey, grab a towel before you get the rug all wet.”

The man was getting impatient at being interrupted, you sensed. You soothed a hand over his chest.

John zipped out in flight, and came back with a fuzzy towel to wrap himself in.

“This place is so big!” he said, bouncing on his feet. His excited smile was endearing. “And all the rooms are big. And all of them have a TV. Can we watch another movie tonight?”

You smiled indulgently. “Sure. Which one do you want to watch next?”

“Jurassic Park! The dinosaurs look so real, like they’re really eating people. Ooh, no, let’s watch Scarface. The cover looked cool.”

Ben was ready to agree to Scarface, but you vetoed.

“Uh, no, we’re not doing Scarface just yet. Jurassic Park is okay,” you said. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and we’ll have lunch.”

John nodded. He half ran, half flew up the stairs to his room. You shook your head with a sigh.

“That kid’s going to need all kinds of therapy,” you said.

Ben shot you a stern look. “My son doesn’t need a fucking shrink. He’s not crazy.”

“Well, he’s not normal either,” you argued. “Who knows how else they brainwashed him. For his whole life, ten years. It’s different even from what you and I went through…and I’m still not okay.”

Ben’s tight expression faded somewhat. He swept a thumb across your cheek.

“But are you happy here?” he said.

“What?” you asked. Not because you didn’t understand him, but because his question genuinely surprised you, and even more when he doubled down, staring into your eyes with a weight in his own.

“Are you?” he pressed. “Is this really what you want?”

You read the conflict in him, the flash of uncertainty behind his otherwise stoic face. It was something you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. You smiled, as tears welled up in your eyes.

“It’s exactly what I want,” you said.   

 He gradually smiled back, albeit more reserved. “All right.”

“And you?” you prodded. “Are you okay with…you know, early retirement?”

Ben let out a long breath. “Look, I started with Vought in 1944. That’s 50 years since. A goddamn lifetime,” he said. “I’ve made more money than the fucking Beatles. Drugs, booze, women, fame. Everyone in the world knew my name. I had everything…and a lotta jack squat.”

He moved his hand over yours, resting on your stomach. It took him a moment, but he dropped another confession.

“Before you, I would’ve always had nothing.”

Emotion tightened in your throat. Tears slipped down your cheeks, no matter how quickly you swept them away.

“So you’re saying thank you,” you said cheekily. He smirked.

“I suppose I am,” he said, staring into your eyes. “Thank you.”

Your emotions continued to bubble over as you read the sincerity in his. You leaned in to steal a kiss, but first, you whispered near his lips.

“You stole my line.”

AN: and there we have it! Another rocky road to a happy ending. 🥹

I hope you enjoyed the 80s and 90s vibes, the canon divergences, the character development, and all the twists! I'd love to know what you think. 💚

I'm also working on another shorter Soldier Boy x POC!Reader series called Unravel Me, but I don't have a release date on that one yet. It's still in development. 😉 Until then, I hope you had fun with this series. In some ways, it was even more of a challenge than Break Me Down!

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[heartpiratedrabbles]

Kids Anger

Prompt: Kid and you have a huge fight, and in anger, Kid tells you to leave

~ Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Kid X Fem Reader X Killer

Killer watched the two of you fight as he often did. He learned early on which fights to step into to become the peacemaker and which ones to stay out of. You were yelling at Kid for going out of his way to fight a Marine ship and while everyone was alive, quite a few people were injured and the boat needed some major repairs. Even you had been shot in the shoulder during the battle amongst other injuries.

        “We won, didn’t we?! Why don’t you shut the fuck up and get off my goddamn back then” Kid was laying it on thick he was towering over you and it had been long since the rest of the crew made themselves scarce from your fight. Killer was in the corner leaning against the wall but you knew better than to try and get him to pick sides.

        “That’s not the point Kid. It was senseless, We got hurt for no reason, Not to mention the damage to Victoria Punk!” You were after all in charge of the crew's finances. A job Kid had given to you when he was too drunk to pay something off and it turned into plundering the entire village. We were never truly low on berries, Kid made sure of that, but you still would like to keep it above a certain threshold. “Nobody died this time but what about next time!?” It was another great concern of yours, Kid had already lost an arm and it took him god knows how long to wake up from that. It’s a sight you’d rather not relive.

        The two of you had been fighting for quite some time on the matter and neither side seemed to be letting up in this argument as both of you shot daggers at each other. “If I decide we attack that’s final. I’m you’re captain it shouldn’t matter what you think.” Kid slammed his fist into the wall right next to you. You tried not to flinch at the sudden and aggressive movement but couldn’t help but let out a little gasp, deciding to stare straight into his chest rather than make eye contact after such a weak display. “You can’t even fight, what do you even do around here to dare think you should even get a say in what I decide?!” Killer perks his head up at the sudden change the argument was taking. “A useless bitch like you should just stay out of the way” Your breath hitches at his word and you hear Killer yell Kid's name.

        You straighten your back, glancing up at your captain, blinking tears to stay away. His glare back at you is menacing and pissed, Your voice turns lower but unwavering, “If that’s how you feel..”

        “Feelings have nothing to do with this, facts are I let an absolute useless person onto this ship” His words dripping with venom that stung more than your shoulder, “If you can’t even listen to your captain's order maybe you should just leave.” It took a second for his words to sink in, waiting for him to retract his statement. But soon enough you whisper a fine under your breath before turning away and leaving the room. You could hear Killer starting his own fight with Kid at this point but it didn’t matter.

        You make your way to the captain's room, it’s where the three of you stayed after all, and start packing anything of yours that could fit into a single bag. You wince a bit as your shoulder starts to bleed from a sudden movement but still refuse to let tears escape. You look in the mirror once more, noticing just how tattered and covered in blood your clothes were, deciding to change into clean clothes one last time before continuing packing. Once the bag is full you head back to the deck and climb down a rope into the debris-ridden water below. You remember seeing a rowboat across the way from the now half sunk marine ship and you intended to use it.

~~~

        “What the fuck Kid” Killer gripped Kid's shoulder and turned him around as he could see y/n escape into the hallway, “What was that all about?” Killer couldn’t believe the words he had just heard from his captain and lover's mouth.

        “She fucken deserved it. What makes her think she can boss me around?” Kid was obviously still pissed beyond belief, huffing with anger in every breathe. He brushes past Killer, “If you need me I’ll be in my workshop.” Killer let out an exasperated sigh before trying to go find y/n on the ship.

~~~

By the time anyone had noticed you were gone, you had already found a row boat and started drifting away in the opposite direction of the ship.

Killer had told the rest of the crew to tell him when they find you but he had only assumed you needed some space after such a heated debate. He didn’t even bother to check the Captain’s Quarters, he doubted you wanted to be in such a place right now, if anything you’d be in a corner hitting the wall or a tight space to breathe and calm down. But as time went on, he grew increasingly more concerned at not hearing or seeing you.

Kid emerged from his workshop a couple of hours after the argument, cooled down a bit, and tired. The sun was long gone as he made his way to his room. In the past, your arguments could get out of hand but Kid could still find you angrily sleeping in his bed next to, or on top of Killer, begrudgingly making room for him. This time on the other, neither you nor killer were in bed, or even in the room for that matter.

He looked around to see your discarded clothes tossed on the ground and he noticed a lot more blood than he’d care to admit, had she been covered in this much when we were fighting? Regardless Kid turned on his heel to search for his two closest crew members.

Soon enough he ran into Hip who was carrying medical supplies, “Oh, Hey Captain. Have you seen y/n? She still hasn’t come to get patched up yet despite promising me she’d come later.” Kid stares at her for a second before she chuckles a bit, “Or did you take care of the wound yourself? How kind. Just remind her to change her bandages.” Kid stood there processing Hips words and she walked away chuckling. She was hurt? Why the fuck did she start a fight before getting treated? Kid started pacing the ship before he ran into an equally worried Killer.

“Kid have you seen y/n?” The taller blonde seemed to be anxious.

“Does it look like I’ve fucken seen her?” Kid snapped at his first mate, “Where the fuck could she have gone?”

~~~

You lay in the boat looking at the sky. The pain in your shoulder growing. You grit your teeth into some clothe as your fingers try to dig the bullet out. After another failed attempt you let out a painful, sorrow filled scream. You had realized a little to late into your little journey that when you were shot, the bullet never made it all the way through.

Truly, it was a great distraction from the events post battle. As you finally breathe in again you let your arm trying to dig the bullet out fall onto the floor of the boat. The adrenaline must have worn off at this point. The pain truly setting in as your mind wanders to what Kid said to you.

Finally, after hours of pretending to be strong. You let it out, you place your now bloodied hand on top of your eyes as the tears overflow.

[ramons-elevator]

Something I gotta give props to Red Team/ Team Bolas is that even though they are doomed, they all are on the same page

After the first day, Etoiles mentioned and some people here said that it was kinda rough in the beginning for blue and green team, especially when picking their leaders.

Blue has Tubbo, Pierre, and Bad which are three people who would want to be leaders/know how to do things. And Tubbo and Bad having beef in the past probably didnt help.

Green team has Forever, Bagi, Etoiles, and Quackity who are again are people who want to be leaders/know how to do things. But also add Max and Antoine who can be silly, but also know how to do things, it probably got messy (keep in mind that i only heard from other ppl)

Then we have Red team, who knows they are fucked. They have Philza, Baghera, Cellbit, and Foolish who are great leaders, but they know that this is survival/PvP. If I remember right that they were kinda like “uh so Philza or Cellbit?” and was the first team to pick their name and leader.

Then after that, they all communicated and just let each other do their thing which I think really helped. Foolish mentioned this after with Tina that they didnt try to tell each other what to do or become actual leaders. They just were like “hey imma make some bread.” “Okay im in the ocean looking for ships” etc etc

Also Slime being a strategist and jumping into other peoples calls was so smart and playing to his element. And as soon as they realized that Carre was a god at PvP, they cheered him on and Cellbit helped communicate with Carre more clearly. Philza using his Minecraft knowledge and scouting for world generated boats and stuff to get more loot and telling everyone.

They all let each other do what they want and played to their strengths. It probably helped that it was a small team and in terms of lore, the characters had things conflicting with each other, but they still respected each other highly.

And when it came down to them fucking giving up, they were 100% on board and even wanted to change their skins and just roleplay it out. They stated over and over again, they didnt want to break up the team at all. They know they were fucked, but didn’t want anything to change.

I need to watch the other Povs to see the other teams, but goddamn. Team Bolas my beloveds. I hope they fucking lose it and get worse <3

[sarah-yyy]

what is war of faith about? is it worth a watch apart from just wang yibo(being gay?)? and where should i watch it?

you were all expecting me to do this so okay let's see how many others i can drag down this shenlai (i think this is the ship name we've settled on?? i have seen many 沈来之笔 tags on ao3 so i'm assuming that's what the chinese fandom has settled on) hole.

what: republican era communist spy drama (finance bros edition) // completed // 38 eps, roughly 40 mins each where: iqiyi (standard disclaimer that i don’t watch with subs so i don’t speak to the quality of eng subs) why: *chanting* yibo yibo yibo yibo yib- wang yang?? xiansheng???? i'll preface by saying i don't watch many republican era shows - it's really just not my thing, like even zhu yilong couldn't make me watch one and that's saying a lot, but i did finish and quite enjoy this one!! extremely strong cast on this show, and the story moved fast enough and had enough action in it that it kept my attention.

meet my boy wei ruolai:

ruolai is from a v humble family, worked hard to put himself through night school but is having trouble stepping foot into the finance world because he has no money, no connections, no diploma (the school is holding off on issuing him one because he's from a communist-stronghold province 😪). he's working several jobs to make ends meet in shanghai when he decides to interview for a job at the central bank.

he aces his entrance test! ofc he does! ruolai is a bit of a whiz with numbers, and is very very very determined to get the job - the place could be on goddamn fire for all he cares, he'll finish his goddamn test and get this goddamn job even if it kills him.

his performance gains him the attention of shen tunan:

xiansheng!! 😍💖💕

chief of the central bank, The Guy™ of the finance and banking industry in shanghai. extremely attractive in a suit. 100% dilf certified.

xiansheng takes a shine on ruolai, but ends up not being able to hire ruolai despite his excellence because, again, ruolai is from a communist-stronghold province, and they don't want to take any chances with him possibly having communist ties.

does that set ruolai back?? no. my boy sneaks into a party that shen tunan is holding at his mansion, and convinces shen tunan to hire him by essentially picking apart shen tunan's ~secret strategies~ that he's uncovered just by following the finance news and making smart deductions 🥺💚

shen tunan caves and personally hires ruolai as his PA, and begins mentoring him and teaching him the ways of the banking industry.

the show is mostly about ruolai's growth in the central bank and the shift of his political beliefs, centred around the kmt and communist party's conflict in that era. the premise of the show is fairly simple - most republican era dramas move in the same direction. this one was well-written, had a solid cast, and beautifully shot.

the development of stn and wrl's relationship in this show was good! it's v shippable, if that's something that is important to you. ngl, i did stay through till the end because these two were so interesting.

we have proud teacher shen tunan who is so so proud of his boy and takes ruolai suit-shopping and tells him how special he is :

starry-eyed disciple wei ruolai who would literally do anything for shen tunan:

he really does mean it when he says that. he gets tortured and thrown in goddamn jail for shen tunan, and he just bears it all and doesn't let himself react in any manner that could harm shen tunan.

i started this strictly for yibo, and had no expectations that i would enjoy it, but guys...........wang yang is 🥵🔥 in this as shen tunan, and this ship just.......sails itself. what else was i supposed to do except go three hundred different levels of ahhhhhhhhh over them.

ANYWAY. strong rec. like at least 8.5/10. even if you're just in it for yibo (who is EXCELLENT in this, the whump scenes are incredible), or if you just want to ship shenlai, the payoff is strong in this.

[lacrimosathedark]

I need the comic book fanfic writers to be made very aware of something:

Roy Harper is the only one to EVER call Jason Todd "Jaybird".

This isn't a family name that he picked up on, or that Roy made and the family has adopted. Roy is literally the only person to call him that. Dick doesn't, Babs doesn't, Bruce doesn't, nobody but Roy does.

The others call him Jay sometimes, in old comics Jace was said a few times (which I actually like and wish people would use literally at all). Bruce has said "Jay, lad" like once and fandom adopted him calling Jason "Jaylad" but that's not horribly egregious so I tolerate it. Dick occasionally calls Jason "little wing". That's about it.

Jaybird is very specifically a Roy Harper thing.

(Honestly yall better appreciate me actually looking back in RHATO 2011 because BOY do I hate this comic. It's not only poorly written, but in my opinion, ugly as fucking sin and I need to burn my retinas now)

That is the first instance of Jason ever being called "Jaybird", and it becomes a lowkey running gag that Roy calls him that and Jason "hates" it.

And then we get this post Heroes In Crisis

This whole thing may have been poorly written because, again, Scott Lobdell sucks, but the intent is to evoke intimacy to make Roy's death hurt. Jason is supposed to have just lost his best friend and was told by Bruce Wayne whose last appearance in his life was beating the shit out of him and, oh yeah, who saved Jason? Roy Fucking Harper.

In addition to the fact that Roy only left Jason to get help for himself. He was supposed to be in rehab/therapy, somewhere safe, and he fucking died because of handwavy Speedforce shenanigans or whatever it's been retconned to now because nobody liked Heroes in Crisis. Roy was supposed to be getting better and he died ostensibly in an accident. Like if that's not the worst fucking bullshit--

This scene of Jason calling himself by what he deems a stupid nickname would mean jack shit if everyone and their goddamn cat called him "Jaybird". But it being a Roy-specific thing makes this scene distinctly about Jason being vulnerable and actively grieving. It's such a cliche trope, and a real coping mechanism, to call a deceased loved one's phone just to hear their voice in their inbox message again. He probably has no thoughts that Roy will ever hear it so this is just for him, but he's letting himself accept this dumb nickname Roy gave him now because it was Roy that gave it to him and Roy is fucking dead.

Like, in fairness it probably frustrates me more because I ship the two and parallel it with Oliver calling Dinah "pretty bird", but like...even as just a cheeky friend nickname, nothing romantic behind it, having everyone else call Jason that feels wrong. Especially his family who he still has so many issues with and, like it or not, he's closer to Roy than literally any of the Bats at this point.

This isn't the only time I've seen the fandom do this (this being giving nicknames between characters that just don't exist); Jason calling Tim "replacement" is absolutely rampant in the fandom and I hate that too because he never calls Tim that, and refers to him as such like once. I have a whole list of actual nicknames and insults these motherfuckers call each other somewhere, but maybe another time.

In short

STOP HAVING EVERYONE CALL HIM JAYBIRD.

Thank you and have a nice day. <3

[wistfulcynic]

the inn is a metaphor

They are terrible at running an inn. 

In the beginning. 

They don’t know the first goddamn thing about the hospitality industry. Or carpentry, plumbing, invoicing, logistics. Anything, really. They know nothing. 

They learn. 

There’s a lot of trial, even more error. But by the first time the Revenge returns for a visit they have something. A roof that doesn’t leak. Un-rotted floorboards. Nooks and crannies free from feral beasts of any kind. Zero spiders. Twin armchairs in front of the fire and a bed just big enough for the two of them. It’s a start. 

The Revenge comes bearing gifts. Wee John has knitted them some afghans and Frenchie sewed an enormous quilt, which takes pride of place on the bed. They’ve towed in another ship as well, a wreck whose timber they all pitch in to rebuild into an extension and some outbuildings. Roach helps them plant a kitchen garden and a medicinal one. 

Jackie gives them business advice and contacts for her old suppliers. Lucius has a guestbook for them, with marginalia he drew himself. Some of it at least is appropriate for guests to see. The rest…

“Are you planning to have guests who’ll faint at the sight of a cock?” Lucius inquires innocently. “Because I’ll be honest with you, that seems unlikely.” 

The idea of guests of any kind is still a long way off, but they’re getting there. They can envision it now, and not just as a wild fantasy they spin each other at night as they lie entwined with sweat cooling on their skin. They have actual plans, concrete ones, and a decent understanding of how to realise them. 

They get to work. 

Jackie’s contacts prove invaluable. Soon they have a liquor supplier, deals with local butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers, and even a reliable fisherman to give them first dibs on his haul. 

(It’s not Pop-Pop.) 

A few survivors of Zheng’s old crew hire on as housekeeping and kitchen staff. The soup is phenomenal. Ed learns how to make it and how to cook a fish without burning it. They have fresh-smelling towels, expertly folded. They have guest rooms, and soon they have guests. 

It’s an adjustment, having new people in their space. Some of the guests are gawkers, eager for a piece of Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate. They reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, namely those particular assholes. But other guests are much more pleasant. Locals looking for a bit of a mini-break, people from nearby islands wanting a getaway, even the occasional European who doesn’t know who they are. 

The guests are mostly happy with their stay. There’s excellent soup and decent fish, fresh linens and great views. The walls could be a bit thicker, perhaps, for everyone’s comfort, but the hosts are always most apologetic in the morning and offer copious marmalade in exchange for good reviews. 

The Revenge returns frequently, each time with some new trinkets and finery for their former co-captains. In exchange, they host bonfires on the beach with music and dancing and wine, until they all fall asleep together in a pile, so like the old days on the ship that Stede watches them in the soft light of the embers with tears in his eyes. 

“All right, love?” Ed asks him. He slips an arm around Stede’s waist. Stede tugs him in until Ed’s head is nestled against his shoulder. He strokes Ed’s hair. Ed sighs and snuggles closer. 

“I’m all right,” Stede says. “A bit nostalgic is all.” 

“You miss it.” 

“I miss the crew. I wish they could visit more often. I suppose I miss the sea, though of course it’s right there in front of us. But I’m happy, Ed. I have no regrets.” 

“Really?” The whisper of doubt in Ed’s voice has Stede pulling back to look down at his dear face. 

“Yes really! Do you doubt it?” 

“Kind of.” Ed shrugs. “It’s easier for me, I think. I was ready to be done with it, Stede. Desperate to do anything else but be Blackbeard. But you—you had just got started. You could be out there now with the crew, pirating away. You could be famous. You could—” 

“Ed Teach, you listen to me.” Stede’s got his Captain Voice on now and the sound of it has Ed’s stomach turning cartwheels, his dick leaping to attention. “I don’t care about any of that. I only wanted to be a pirate for the freedom. To escape my old life. But I have a life now that I would never want to escape. Do you know why?” 

Ed shakes his head. 

“Because I chose it. I chose you. I love you and I would be happy anywhere you were.” He cups Ed’s cheek in his palm and kisses his forehead, his nose, his lips. Ed moans and presses closer but Stede pulls back, just far enough to whisper, “You make Stede happy.” 

They spend that night alone in the inn, no guests, far enough from the beach that when they serve breakfast to the crew the next morning not a single smirk or smart remark is sent their way. 

They wave goodbye to their friends that evening and stand together on their porch to watch the ship sail off into the sunset. Stede turns to Ed with a smile. “New guests checking in tomorrow,” he says. “We should probably fix the creak in the door hinge of Room 1.” 

“I’ll do it,” says Ed, “if you polish the candlesticks. Fuckin’ polish makes my nose itch.” 

“Deal,” says Stede. He turns to head inside. “What’ll we have for dinner?” 

“Got a nice turbot we could roast.” 

“Ooh, fab.” 

The inn’s front door closes behind them. 

It’s still a bit rickety, their inn. It’s old, it creaks, it springs leaks from time to time. It’s hard work, keeping it going. But they are devoted to the task. Whatever it takes, they will see their inn thrive. 

It’s what makes them happy. 

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

ok, i'm being so brave and making the rec post that i told anon i would do like three days ago.

the obligatory caveats. this is not comprehensive—i haven't read all the fic in this fandom, and i've barely looked at anything not in english. my reading habits are pretty broad—i'll read almost any pairing, and am generally willing to suspend my disbelief to do so. i am not usually an au person, though this fandom is doing its absolute damndest to prove me wrong on that point.

also i have…more…fics that i felt i should rec somewhere, so probably this is rec post one, but ten felt like enough and also saying things in public where people can hear me is, it turns out, absolutely excruciating. please no one be mean to me about this post, especially if you wrote one of these fics, because if you are i will simply fill my pockets with rocks and take to the sea, ok? ok.

excited to find out what i manage to do that ruins the formatting, links the wrong fics and/or people, or otherwise breaks things in this post. please tell me if i've fucked up, or if your fic is on this list and you would rather i keep your name out of my mouth, or whatever.

first, a very special mention to the mlc reference guide by @yletylyf. this is such an incredibly comprehensive and generous resource. you want a timeline for this show that does an incredibly poor job of maintaining its own timeline? it's here. you want episode summaries? they're here. you want all the people and places? they're here. if you're writing fic, you want this guide, because it's so much easier and faster than scanning episodes or subs files to figure out the name of one specific guy or whatever. it also means that at least occasionally you work on the thing rather than accidentally rewatching the same scene five times, or hypothetically watching two to four episodes without even really thinking about what you're doing. the reference guide is the unsung mvp of fandom.

beyond porch and portal, difanghua, teen, by willowdream. this is the vampire au that i didn't know i wanted? the author posted it and their note was like 'i'm trying to be the change i want to see in the world,' and i was like ok sure, i'm not really convinced that the change i need is vampire aus, but i'll give it a go, and then i did and was like, oh shit, i'm eating fucking glass about this vampire au, i'm chewing on my own fucking fingers, i'm so fucking normal about this, i need another hundred thousand words of this and also seventeen more vampire aus in my inbox by monday morning. i literally finished reading it and scrolled right back to the top to read it again. i have no idea why this fic hits so hard, but it took me out at the knees. the voices are perfect. something about it is just impossibly compelling.

不安的遠離，再无歸期 | restless distance, without return, fang duobing/qiao wanmian, mature and teen, by @difeisheng. this is technically two fics but they're short and you should read both of them because they're such a brutal, perfect encapsulation of grief, and a really beautiful acknowledgement of the ways that fang duobing and qiao wanmian can be read as reflections of each other, separated by a decade, and it just fucking guts me. i dunno. it's about the grief! it's about the yearning! it's about someone who understands parts of you that you wish didn't exist! i think i've reread this like once a week for the last six weeks and i feel like it gets overlooked because it's not A Ship but like. it could be. it should be.

dance the silence down, fanghua and feihua, explicit, by @momosandlemonsoda. this fic. ugh. ok. i'm breaking my own rules. i had two when i started writing this post: no works in progress, and no reccing things that i haven't left a comment on, like a goddamn grownup. this one fic is breaking both of those rules and i feel bad about it and will hopefully spend like, all day tomorrow just commenting on every chapter or something, but i have to do this. this fic is so good. this fic ruins me. this fic is 63k, still a work in progress, and also if i were losing the whole internet tomorrow and i got to keep one fic in all the world and it was the only fic i could have for the rest of time, it might have to be this one, even as a work in progress. i ignored this fic for so long—by which i mean probably two of the four months since i first watched mysterious lotus casebook—because i was like, i don't like aus, and i especially don't like rock star aus. (or sex work aus, and you're never gonna fucking believe what else this author is writing and what else i absolutely cannot get enough of—this is a sneaky bonus rec for all i wanna do is wrong, another fic that i feel so so so normal about!) but then i was like okkkkkkk but. maybe i'll try it. people seem to be nuts for it. and then i read it and i was like OH HOLY SHIT PEOPLE ARE FULLY CORRECT TO BE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED ABOUT THIS and normally, honestly, i wouldn't bother posting a rec like this because it's like 'oh haha have you read the five most popular fics in this fandom?' and it feels so redundant, but i know for a fact that a friend of mine who finished watching the show yesterday is reading this post, and even if everyone else has read it, she has not! anyhow as a former music person and a former diner cook, this fic like. i don't know. i feel like it broke me but also fixed me? i literally criticise writing professionally and every time i try to talk about this fic i find myself speechless because it's so perfect to me. i am deeply unwell about this fic. every time a new chapter comes out i sit down and read the whole thing again, yes, all sixty-thousand-plus words of it. some nights you go to bed and you're like 'what's the fucking point?' and then you're like 'no wait, there will eventually be more of dance the silence down,' and somehow that makes things suck a tiny bit less. my wife has made me take out like six sentences from this rec because they're too intense and too weird about it but i need you to understand: you have to read this fic.

in this dream, there is a lover to share this life with, fanghua, g, by @lianhuajing. alternative ending for the end of episode 27, in which li lianhua—precious man who has yet to discover a hill he's not willing to die on—apologises to fang duobing the only way he knows how, and it's wildly upsetting for everyone (but it's ok and it doesn't end miserably, no one panic). this is a delightfully angsty treat, and i love how conflicted fang duobing is in it—i feel like it's not something that i've seen explored a lot, but this poor boy really fuckin goes through it—his best friend and his childhood idol are the same person but are lying to him about it, and his dad's not actually his father and has been lying to him about it, and his best friend/childhood idol may have killed his father, and—yeah, is lying to him about it. like? someone give this poor man a hug and a cup of tea and a snack and a blankie. i love that we get to see some of his internal conflict in this.

quintessence of dust, feihua, teen, by justthereforit. this plays with one of my very most favourite tropes in the world, which is the one where the heart is a physical object and a physical form of trust and control and surrender and—like. this is so good. it's set in episode 13, which is, for me, one of the absolute peak angst points, and it absolutely nails it. di feisheng who's upset and vulnerable and frustrated and angry, li lianhua who knows he's going to die and can't bear the thought that he's going to take anyone else down with him, and they're both just so fucked up. chef kiss. i love it when everyone is emotionally wrecked and continually like 'ok no, i can take one more knife in my soul to protect someone else', and this absolutely delivers on that.

under moonlight, we change our futures yet again, feihua, explicit, by @thesilversun. the wedding room! obviously we have to have a wedding room fic, right? i'm not going to lie: i'm willing to suspend a lot of disbelief for wedding room fics, but in this one, it's actually a wonderfully, horrifyingly plausible setup. it walks a really fine line of keeping people in character, and acknowledging the inherent horror and seriousness of the situation, and also providing some desperately hot sex, and also managing to get the emotional beats of it, too. it has a sequel, which imo really has to be read as the conclusion to this fic, and it's just as good. it's possible that some of what i'm saying here is 'i love vulnerable-inside crusty-outside di feisheng' but like. i do. i love it so much.

what's sealed away, feihua, teen, by @bbcphile. AMNESIA FIC yessssss, a-fei my beloved, fics that handle brain damage/memory issues/amnesia well my beloveddddd. i love the a-fei arc, but i also have had a number of brain injuries and some other stuff that means that my own memory is…not so great, so i sometimes really struggle with how often amnesia in fiction is played off either as nothing to worry about or as a funny thing where everyone's in on the joke except the person who has amnesia. this fic is a great and sometimes very visceral exploration of a horrifying experience, and a really fantastic study of a-fei/di feisheng as a character, as well as the relationship that he has with li lianhua. a-fei trying to balance the trust he has in the sense memory of his body with his understanding of his relationship with li lianhua with li lianhua's reaction to—everything, really—is really well done and wonderful/terrible to read.

我只愿面朝大海 | i wish only to face the sea, g, by foreverstudent. ok so you wanna fuck yourself up some more? go read this. this is canon divergence from episode 39, and fang duobing has learned too well the lessons he's been taught, and sees the shape of things before li lianhua ever touches the wangchuan flower—so he sets about making sure that he won't be able to throw it away. this is agonising and gorgeous and maintains the canon relationships while developing the narrative differently. i wept literal tears. i was like 'ok that's it the worst part is over!' and then i remembered that there was another part coming and then i started crying. anyhow, it is—as ever, with me—about the devotion.

我住長江頭, 君住長江尾 -- i live upstream, you live downstream, fanghua, teen, by @rimbaudofficial. ok so this is Not a fic that i should like, because i am a massive academic failure and despite being in my forties have regular nightmares about having to re-engage with academia for like. any reason. HOWEVER. as noted, i read indiscriminately, even when i'm like 'reading this is a terrible idea and will be upsetting for me personally!', so i was like 'well, how bad of an idea can it possibly be?' and then instead! it was. incredibly charming? it was so fucking cute? the fang duobing characterisation in this is somehow just perfect to me—he's simultaneously confident and vulnerable, and also just so deeply committed to the weird clueless guy who he's decided is meant for him. di feisheng and li lianhua have a perfect weird-bros friendship. i would read another ten chapters of this and i would love it.

[therobotmonster]

So... Shapeways is going bankrupt.

This is particularly irksome for me, as that's a good 1/3rd of my monthly income, so I'm crossing my fingers while I start setting up a new store on cults. I have literally thousands of items so getting them all up is going to take ages.

But why did this happen?

Well I'll fucking tell you what I think happened.

It was a company run on arrogance and cowardice.

Shapeways made its mark as the cafepress of 3d printing. The weight of this was their marketplace that let people sell prints directly to customers without having to do the printing themselves. At its peak, I made more from Shapeways than from my day job.

The problem was that Shapeways put zero effort into the marketplace. They'd send some of us to a con to promote the idea of 3d printing game minis a couple of times, sure, but when it came to actual site maintenance and design every suggestion and request by sellers was roundly ignored. We asked for better search and categorization options. We asked to be able to name variants in our stores. We asked for better communication from the print techs. We asked for accurate subcategories that actually reflected how customers looked for items. None of it was done.

As such, the site was baffling to customers and difficult to understand. This was made worse by Shapeways' continual renaming of their materials. So after a couple of years Shapeways announces that they're not going to do anything for the marketplace because it's underperforming, and are going to focus on B2B, and in doing so they buried the marketplace in a tiny little link on the front page.

Overnight sales plummeted. We complained again, nothing was done. We asked for a different URL that went straight to the marketplace (something that would literally cost them $80 to do) that we could direct customers to, we were ignored.

The marketplace is underperforming, so we won't put in the effort needed to make the marketplace perform. Makes perfect sense.

Prices go up. Shipping goes up substantially, and then it was a thousand little cuts. The auto-checks were altered to make it impossible to verify anything manually with any accuracy, so it became harder to design for the limitations of their printers.

The site slowed down substantially so every click had a several second pause, making shopping and maintaining frustrating and unpleasant. Shipping costs to many areas of the world became insanely high, effectively cutting off entire markets.

Want to not be Shapeways? Then remember this:

Your users know more about your site experience and their own needs than you do.

If you have a sales site, and the people selling through it say "this isn't working, we need this" then maybe you should listen to them and not just say 'you're wrong' to their faces.

Oh, and also, if goddamn Rolls-Royce comes in filing false DMCA claims over the use of the word "Phantom" in any context on your site, you don't take every item through a multiple day review for every edit and say "LOL, we can't do anything"

You take them to court for abusing the system on behalf of your user base, you fucking bootlicking cowards.

OH, AND I ALMOST FORGOT!

I HAD TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS FROM A DM ON TWITTER.

They've sent me a check every month for half a decade and they don't even send a "We're closing shop" email.

Look upon my prints, ye mighty, and despair.

If you want to help me though the meantime, here's my paypal.me and my gofundme.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Drake is back... but that doesn't mean that it's a happy reunion...

Word Count: 4,300

Rating/Warnings: M (shouting, guilt-tripping, dangerous driving, swearing in multiple languages, one over-heated kiss)

Chapter theme song:

Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

I whirl around in disbelief. "Drake...!"

He's stood before me with two days' worth of stubble, regarding me with a long-suffering look.

But it really is him.

And I feel my heart swell, even though I can tell that he's not exactly best pleased to find me in a random antique shop in the middle of Rome.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. "I turn my back for one goddamn minute and—"

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

"I can ask the same of you, Gale..." he counters, folding his arms over his chest. "Because this sure as shit ain't no bridal boutique."

My chin lifts on its own accord. "I decided to make a detour."

"Jesus fucking—" He rakes his hand through his hair. "Did you leave your brain in a ditch somewhere in the process?"

My eyes widen. "Wha—! No! I—"

"The city is crawling with paps!" he almost shouts, jabbing a finger towards the door. "Who are looking for any excuse to make a meal out of you! Did you not think for one second that—?"

"What?" I counter heatedly, stepping up to him. "That I should cower and hide instead, like I'm to blame for it all? I told you — I refuse to let these people—"

"Well, it would've been a damn sight better than making me chase you across half the fucking city!"

"Why were you even chasing after me?" I demand, my own ire flaring. "You're supposed to be in Dubai!"

"Been there, done that, got the jet lag to prove it," he hits back sarcastically. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean you suddenly have carte blanche to fuck off on your own."

"Says the person who walked off without so much as a 'see you later'..."

His mouth hardens. "I didn't want to—"

"Also, I'm not on my own," I continue testily. "Allard and Schweitzer—"

"—are fucking fired," he cuts in, suddenly darkened mocha eyes flashing. "They should never have—"

"Ch'è qualche problema?"

"No!" Drake and I snap in unison.

The old man falls mute before muttering something disparaging under his breath.

I continue staring at Drake, heart thumping and chest heaving in the wake of our dust-up.

He glares back unblinkingly, jaw clenched as the tension rolls off him in palatable waves.

I reach up to adjust the strap of my tote indignantly. "So much for trusting each other, huh, Walker?"

"Dammit, Gale," he growls. "That's not what—"

Grabbing the wrapped box off the counter, I stomp past him without a backwards glance. "See you back at the embassy."

He has some nerve, showing up out of the blue t—

I barely make it two steps before he's grabbed me by the arm.

I open my mouth to retort...

...but I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways, because in the next instant, he's slammed me against his chest, laying claim to my mouth with a ferocity that's on the verge of being savage.

The fight whooshes out of me as my arms fly up to wrap themselves 'round his neck, even as I feel his fingers dig against the soft cotton of my dress, pulling me to him like a long-lost ship to anchor.

"Christ, girl," he growls against my lips. "You send me off the edge of reason..."

"I'm... sorry..." I gasp, clinging to him helplessly as he trails down the line of my jaw. "I didn't mean to—"

"Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello."

Drake starts as he gets clapped roundly on the back.

Peeking up, I see the shopkeeper smirking at us conspiratorially as he ambles past.

"Err... Sì," coughs Drake, pulling back from me. "Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese..."

The man laughs in response. "Non capita a tutti?"

"You speak Italian?" I gawp, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks as the old man throws us a wink over his shoulder.

"Uh... Yeah..." Drake mutters, running his hand over the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "With Bast."

"Oh." I glance between him and the old man. "What did he say?"

"An old proverb," Drake says, looking just as embarrassed as I am feeling about the fact that we'd inadvertently let our dirty laundry rip in the company of a complete stranger. "Love is not beautiful if it does not quarrel."

My cheeks redden further. "I-I see..."

"It's kind of a compliment..." he admits, shooting a sidelong glance over at the man, who's now busy dusting some shelves. "But we should probably get out of his hair."

"Definitely...!" I chirp, diving towards the saving grace of the exit.

"Err... La saluto," offers Drake on his way out. "E scusi il disturbo..."

"Eh!" comes the scoffed response. "Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona."

"Lo so..."

"Everything alright?" I ask as Drake joins me on the baking pavement.

"Yeah," he assures me, not quite meeting my eye. "Just giving his two cents..."

Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to read.

But before I can ask him about it, he's already marching me across the square.

"What about Allard and Schweitzer?" I protest, trying to squint behind me as Drake navigates us 'round the incessant stream of sightseers. "Are they—?"

"I sent them back to the embassy," Drake replies, yanking me back as a pair of kids dart out in front of me.

"You didn't actually fire them, did you?" I gasp.

"Sure as hell thinking about it," he mutters, moving us forward again.

"If it's any consolation, they did try to talk me out of coming out here..."

"Clearly not hard enough."

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," I remind him.

He lets out a low breath. "Don't I fuckin' know it..."

"Look," I say, coming to a stop and turning to face him. "I get you're pissed—"

"That's putting it mildly."

"—but don't take it out on Allard and Schweitzer," I tell him flatly. "They didn't do anything wrong... and I actually get along with them."

He holds my gaze for a long time before answering. "They're not your friends, Gale."

"Maybe not in any conventional sense," I admit. "But getting me a security detail had been your idea, Walker. And I know I was against it initially, but Allard and Schweitzer have been able to be there for me when you haven't."

His mouth hardens.

"And I know that grates you," I continue quickly, before he can cut me off again. "But we knew from the start that this was going to be the case, so if you do need to leave, then I'd prefer to be left with people I can trust. And I trust Allard and Schweitzer — with my life. Which is actually saying a lot."

He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute before answering. "I'll think about it."

"That's it?" I demand in disbelief as he grabs my wrist to pull me after him again. "After all that, you're just going t—?"

"I said I'll think about it."

I glare at his back. "You're a dick."

He rounds on me like a wolf. "I'm a fuckin' realist. And the reality is that Allard and Schweitzer messed up. Big time. And I don't care how much you like them, or how many times you've braided each other's hair—"

My eyes narrow. "That's not—"

"—because none of that fucking matters out here! What matters — the only goddamn thing that matters — is keeping you safe. From the paps, from the aristos, even from your ownfucking self, if you're about to do something stupid. And at that, they've unquestionably failed. So, no. I'm not about to cut them a break. Especially not on your say-so. Because the stakes are too fucking real, and I'm not gonna let anyone play dice with your life. Least of all the people whose one job is to look out for you. Got it?"

I force myself to blink back the sudden tears in my eyes. "Yeah..."

"Good," he grunts. "Now get on."

Glancing past Drake, I spot what is very literally the last thing I'd expect to see him with.

I scoff up at him. "In your dreams, bud."

"Gale," he warns, reaching for one of the helmets that's hanging from the black and white moped's frame. "I'm not in the fucking m—"

"Well, neither am I," I hit back tersely. "So, you can take that deathtrap of a Vespa and shove it."

"First off," he counters, tossing the helmet at me. "It's a Piaggio. Second, the only reason I had to resort to this is because you decided to bail."

I catch the helmet irately. "So, you're saying that this is my fault?"

"Damn right, it is," he confirms, extracting a second helmet from the storage compartment nestled beneath the seat. "It's got all of 50cc so it's underpowered as fuck."

"Then why the heck did you get it!"

"Because it's the fastest way to get around the city."

I snort at him. "You mean, it's the fastest way to get into an accident..."

He prays for deliverance under his breath. "Gale, for the love of Christ, will you just—?"

"No," I declare, folding my arms. "The last time you conned me onto the back of your motorbike, I literally thought I was going to die. And after seeing how everyone in Rome drives, I have no interest in—"

"You drive, then."

Drake's unexpected offer pulls me up short. "Wait. What?"

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. "It's a one-time offer, Gale. Either you take the wheel, or I do. But you've gettin' your ass on this sorry excuse of a bike, one way or another."

"I..." I swallow thickly. "I don't know how..."

"I'll walk you through it," he assures me. "There ain't much to it."

"Somehow I doubt that..."

"Clock's tickin', girl..."

I heave a breath before shoving my head into my helmet. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Figured you would," he murmurs, holding the keys up. "You know where these go?"

"Up your ass," I retort, snatching the keychain from his hands.

The corner of his mouth twitches — whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell.

Not that I really care. I can be a jerk, too. But, I figure that at least with me driving, we won't rack up any speeding tickets or near misses on our way back to the Cordonian embassy, which is where we are staying for the two nights that we are in Rome for.

Walking up to the moped — admittedly with more swagger than I'm actually feeling at this moment — I grab the handlebars and swing my leg over the middle of the frame.

After a quick inspection, I locate the ignition switch and slot the key in.

But before I have a chance to try and turn the engine on, Drake's hand appears in my line of sight.

Reaching between my legs, he opens a hidden compartment in the frame. "For your bag."

"Oh," I say in genuine surprise, taking my bag off so I can tuck it away. "That is actually kind of neat."

"Last thing we need is for you to lose your stuff..." he drawls, shutting the glove box back up.

As he straightens again, his arm brushes the bare skin of my knee. And despite (or maybe because of) the unresolved tension shimmering between us in the wake of our heated reunion, I can't help but feel a familiar zap of electricity course through my nerves at the inadvertent contact.

"No kidding..." I concede, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing my throat, I add, "So... umm, what's next?"

"Grab the break and turn the key over as far as it'll go."

"So, kind of like a car," I surmise, following the instructions. "Why isn't it starting?"

"Because you only turned the electronics on," Drake advises. "To kick the engine off, you need to disengage the kick stand, and then press the start button."

"Jesus Christ, this is complicated..." I grumble as I scoot off the seat so I can try to figure out how to do what he just said.

"No more complicated than sailing a yacht," Drake counters, watching my antics from the safety of the pavement. "Just give it a shove ."

"How will that—?"

"It's got a rear-mounted kickstand," he says. "You disengage it by rolling the bike forward."

"Right," I grumble, feeling like a total idiot. "Because that's so obvious."

Maybe I should've let Drake drive, after all...

"You still holding the break?"

I snap my head up as I give the handlebars a hard push. "Huh?"

A squeal erupts from my mouth as the moped suddenly lurches forward beneath me, and I have a moment of sheer panic as I wrestle with the hunk of metal to keep from crashing to the ground.

"I told you to hold the break..."

"You could've been more specific!"

He lets out a low breath. "You good?"

"Yeah," I huff, finally managing to find some semblance of balance with an uncooperative moped  stuck between my legs.

"Turn her on, then."

I scan the buttons in front of me. "Err..."

"The one by your right thumb."

Shifting my grip, I extend my thumb out to press the button...

"You still holdin' the break?" Drake asks.

I quickly tighten my hold on the left-side break. "Yes."

Drake eyes me unconvincedly. "Just checking..."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"Hey," he objects. "You're the one who wanted to do this, Gale."

"Yeah, everything is my fault today..." I grumble as I press the start button.

The moped sparks to life beneath me, and I feel a massive rush of achievement.

"I did it!" I cry, meeting Drake's eye with an unadulterated grin.

He quirks a brow at me. "Y'know you're still stationary, right?"

"Shut up."

Drake steps up to the bike with a shake of his head and flips out the passenger foot rest. "Last chance to bow out gracefully, Gale."

I glance over my shoulder at him. "If you're trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology on me, Walker—"

"Wouldn't dream of it..." he assures me dryly, mounting up as well. "But my word is gospel, y'hear?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I say sardonically... while trying to ignore the heat of his body and the instinctive urge to lean back into it as he settles down on the narrow seat behind me.

Because as much as I missed him, and as glad as I am that he's back, our volatile reunion has served as a stark reminder that we never finished our conversation back in Applewood. Not only that, but thanks to the almost break-neck speed at which things have been happening, the list of topics for discussion has only grown since then.

And the last thing I want is for us to fall down the same toxic hole that we did in the wake of Christian's surprise reveal in Valtoria.

I just have to hope that we'll be able to squeeze in some much-needed couple time before even more things pile up between us.

Not to mention, I'm desperate to know what had happened with Tariq in Dubai... and whether Drake's record-fast turnaround is a sign of some much-needed success, or even more demoralising failure.

But, first things first: getting back to the embassy in one piece, without the paps chasing us.

I feel Drake roll his eyes at me. "Wrong salutation, but never mind... Now. We're gonna do this slowly and gently. There's a lot of people around, and we don't need you on the front page of the Sun again because you accidentally torpedoed a toddler."

My throat constricts. "Y-You saw that?"

"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't," he mutters. "But right now, your focus needs to be on driving this thing. So, eyes up front and ignore everything else."

I swallow down my nerves. "Okay..."

"Your right hand controls the throttle. Your left hand controls the break," Drake instructs. "For the love of God, don't mix that up, or I'll be on the phone to your patents explaining why you suddenly need skin grafts."

I wince involuntarily at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "Got it."

"It's a mistake you'll only make once," he warns grimly. "To get going, twist down on the throttle while slowly easing up on the break. Don't jerk it, or you'll face plant into the speedometer."

"Anything else?" I ask, somewhat nervously.

As anticipated, driving a motorbike is a lot more nuanced than Drake made it look back in Cordonia. And I'm having some serious second thoughts about this whole thing...

"Keep your feet off the foot-stand until you've got enough momentum to stay upright."

"How will I know that?"

"You'll feel it," he assures me. "Like on a bike."

I bite my bottom lip.

"Hey," he says, brushing his fingers across my hip. "You got this, girl."

The familiarity of Drake's touch — even though it's fleeting — unwinds something in me. Because it's an unspoken reminder that no matter what may be going on around us... or between us, it's not going to come in the way of the promise that he made me.

I suck in a steadying breath. "Okay. Here goes."

Readjusting my grip on the handlebars, I twist my wrist down. Feeling the engine start to rumble with increased vigour, I gentle ease up on the break.

The Piaggio begins to creep forward.

"Watch the road, not the instruments," Drake cautions from behind me.

Lifting my eyes up, I carefully navigate us 'round the oncoming pedestrians, keeping my feet suspended alongside the moped, in case I need to make an emergency stop.

But, as we move away from the iconic landmark, the crowd starts to thin out, and the street widens. Passing a fruit and vegetable stand, I let go of the break fully, the bike pulls forward eagerly. Feeling slightly more confident, I add a bit more gas so I can finally lift my feet up without capsizing our delicate operation.

"Not bad," Drake approves. "You just gotta relax a bit."

I flush inadvertently. "I am relaxed."

"Your shoulders say different. You're driving like Quasimodo."

"Oh." I make a concerted effort to straighten my posture. "Better?"

"Yeah. But now you need to drop your elbows."

"So much for this being easy..."

"It is," he insists. "Once you get the hang of it."

"You and your technicalities, Walker..." I grumble.

"Everything's got a learning curve," he reminds me. "But we just might make a Hell's Angel out of you yet."

I snort back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Evil Knievel. We haven't made it back to the embassy yet."

"Then you might wanna knuckle down for this next part."

"Why? What's—?"

I get my answer as we round a corner and come parallel to a busier-looking road.

Great...

"Right here, then first left," Drake advises as we approach a somewhat complicated-looking three-way intersection.

"Umm... Okay..." I mumble, eyeing up the noticeably faster-moving traffic on the main road with more than a bit of trepidation.

"No one's gonna give you room, so you'll have to gun it," comes the no-nonsense tip from behind me. "The indicator is by your left thumb."

A Fiat whizzes past, but the next car is some distance away. Taking a breath, I flick the indicator on and twist down on the throttle to merge into the gap.

"Move over one more," Drake shouts over my shoulder. "You're taking up the bus lane."

"Where the heck does it say that?" I demand, casting my head around in confusion.

"On the sign we just passed..."

"Was it invisible?"

"Hey," counters Drake. "You wanna argue with me, or a cop?"

"Neither," I concede sourly, making the switch to the left-side lane after a quick check in the mirror. "But they could've made it more obvious..."

Drake scoffs. "It's Rome. The bastards are trying to catch you out."

"Clearly," I agree, taking a left at the traffic lights...

...straight into a two-way fork in the road.

"Umm... What now?" I squeak, trying to hedge my bets as much as I can in the rapidly shrinking room that I have to make a decision before I run into the curb.

"Stay left."

I start to turn the bike, only to yank it back violently with a yelp as a car that I hadn't realised was trying to overtake me blows past with a scream of its horn.

"Vaffanculo!" yells Drake, throwing his hand out angrily at the other driver.

"Ohmygod..." I rasp, my entire body shaking in the wake of the near miss.

"Fuckin' asshole," gripes Drake. "You okay?"

I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat. "I... think so."

"If you need to pull over..."

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. I just..."

"...get a kick outta playing chicken?"

"I don't do it on purpose!"

"You sure?" he asks dryly. "'Cause you definitely seem to be making a habit of it..."

I open my mouth, but quickly think better of it... as Drake has a point. I have had a few too many near misses lately. "Sorry... It isn't intentional. I thought that since I'd left the indicator on, that—"

"I know," he assures me, laying a hand on my hip again. "I'm not blaming you. But all the calls you've had have been too close. And..." His fingers tighten against the material of my dress. "I just don't want you to—"

"I know," I concede softly. "I don't want that either. And I'm not normally this accident-prone, I promise..."

"Except when your blood sugar's low," he corrects wryly.

His words cause me to clench my eyes together in consternation. "Damn it, the croissants..."

In the whirlwind of Drake's surprise reappearance, I'd forgotten all about the primary reason for sneaking away from the bridal boutique.

"What croissants?" queries Drake.

"The pistachio ones I was supposed to get from this little bakery next to the fountain that the Italian President had recommended."

I feel Drake's disbelieving gaze knife into the back of my head. "Seriously? That's the reason you were out playing hooky?"

"One of them, yes..." I reply evasively.

"Putain de merde..."

"Apparently they're very good..."

Drake mutters something under his breath. "Pull over."

My eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because it's past noon, and you're clearly starving."

"I'm fine," I insist, even though the only thing of substance I've had since this morning was the cup of coffee on Olivia's jet. "I'll just grab something when—"

The Piaggio lurches to a stop as Drake slaps a hand on the break. "No. You won't."

My eyes widen as my feet fly out on instinct to steady the suddenly stationary moped. "Why not?"

"Because the staff at the embassy already have their work cut out pulling together tonight's dinner, so the kitchen is off-limits," he explains, hopping off the back. "And you won't be able to take two steps outside to grab a sandwich without picking up a pap tail."

"Then why have we stopped in a dead-end alley?" I ask in disbelief as Drake pulls the moped it onto its kickstand while I'm still sat gaping at him from the seat.

"Because we just passed one of the best restaurants in Rome," he states. "So, I'm buying you lunch."

His cinnamon-laced eyes meet mine, and I see a sudden flash of rawness in his gaze... a silent plea entreating me to say yes. Which means this is about more than just food.

"Okay," I accede, wondering what could've prompted such a sudden change of heart. "But what about the paps? Aren't you worried we'll get spotted?"

"See any people?" asks Drake, reaching across my lap to turn the ignition off.

"No, but—"

"Exactly," he affirms, pocketing the keys. "This is one of the few places in the city where you ain't gonna bump into a reporter."

"How do you know?"

"Because apart from the fact that Sugo actually makes its own pasta, it is also a stone's throw from Parliament," he explains, offering me a hand to help me off the bike. "Which means that pencil pushers from every level of government come here to ink deals over carbonara, so no one — staff included — is gonna mess with the status quo."

"Sounds like something out of a mafia movie..."

"Where d'you think Hollywood gets its ideas from?" he drawls, pulling his helmet off to stow it in the under-seat compartment. "Places like this. Which is why no one will bother us here. Especially not the paps. It'd be a death sentence for this joint if their tight and discreet ship suddenly sprung a leak."

"Good to know," I acknowledge, unclipping the clasp of my own helmet. "But how did you even find out about this place? Let alone got in?"

"Leo," Drake replies, taking my helmet to clip it onto the handlebar. "He's on a first name basis with the chef."

I quirk a brow at him. "Sounds like there's a story there..."

Drake extricates my bag from the glove box with scoffs. "It's Leo. There's never not a story. But let's get you inside first. Before you pass out on the pavement."

"I'm not going to—" My stomach rumbles in pointed disagreement. "Okay, I am hungry. But where exactly is this place? There's nothing here apart from the back-ends of buildings..."

"Have I ever let you down when it comes to food?" he asks with a raised brow.

"No..."

"Then trust me."

The story continues in Chapter 21 - You Give Me Reason

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

Ch'è qualche problema? - Is there a problem?

Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello. - Ah, love... It is not beautiful if it does not quarrel.

Err... Sì. Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese... - Err... Yes. I am definitely learning that the hard way.

Non capita a tutti? - Don't we all?

Err... La saluto. E scusi il disturbo... - Err... Farewell. And apologies for disturbing you.

Eh! Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona. - Eh! No risk, no reward! But you better take care of her! Good woman – worth a crown.

Lo so... - I know...

Vaffanculo! - Fuck you!

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[drabbles-mc]

Big Talk

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x GN!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, pining, alcohol

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We’ll see how far we get!

Prompt: boat

Word Count: 500

A/N: my first ever rooster/reader fic! what a time to be alive! 😂 i've only ever written him with hangman so this was a fun little switch-up

“Yeah, but it’s still the Navy, right?” you joked as you sat across from Rooster at the small table in the bar. “So it’s all still boats.”

He rolled his eyes but there was still a smile on his face. “They don’t call them boats, first of all.”

You laughed, throwing out a dismissive gesture with your hand. “Ships, then. My bad.”

He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of laughing but he couldn’t stop himself. “Okay, yeah, the planes are on the ships but I told you, I don’t do anything with the ships except use them to take off and land.”

You had a confused, disbelieving look on your face as you brought your beer bottle to your lips. The expression on Rooster’s face let you know that he was perfectly aware that you were having way too much fun with this. However, he was still too stubborn to back down. That, and if you were both being honest with each other or yourselves, it wasn’t like you were looking for reasons to end the conversation.

“I just didn’t think that you could be in the Navy and not want to do anything with boats.”

“I’m a Naval Aviator.” He punctuated the last two words by tapping his fingertip on the tabletop, trying to look serious or at least annoyed and failing because of the smirk on his face. “Planes are my whole thing—I’m a goddamn pilot! Not a ship captain!”

“They should make you be both!”

You were both laughing too much to continue the line of banter for a moment. He watched you as you tried to get your laughter under control enough to either take another sip of your beer or come up with something else to say to get him riled up and into another debate of some kind.

“Big talk from someone who isn’t a pilot or a captain,” he said, eyes still on you, lips still twitching trying to keep his grin under control.

You hummed in amusement, bottle already pressed to your lips. You took another drink before saying, “Touché.” There were a couple beats of silence before you spoke up again, tone just a little bit more serious than it had been so far. “I missed you, Bradshaw.”

The smile on his face softened into something much gentler as he nodded in agreement. “I missed you too.”

The part of you that wanted to reach out and take his hand in yours was larger than you wanted to admit to, larger than you felt you had any right to at this point. It was still there, though. Clearing your throat to force any excess emotion down, you asked, “You’re home for a bit now, right?”

You couldn’t help but to noticed the slight twitch in his fingers, cues that he was fighting the same urges you were. “Yeah, for a little while.”

You smiled and nodded, feeling an odd twist of relief and angst all at once. “Good.”

[annislittleshopofhorrors]

You know, I love your blog and your funny/shady comments about 🐟 unable to handle her husband getting the attention and not her.

But I’ll admit, I always laughed it off because we can say that but nobody really knows what’s happening.

Until yesterday. LMAO. I know, I’m sorry for not really listening to some of y’all… but she needs some serious help and for once, to put down her goddamn phone.

I also realized that I knew she was going to try and do something to put the attention back on her and nothing she does on IG is ever a coincidence. This is the actions of a very manipulative but also very stupid individual with narcissistic tendencies. To her five asskissers, look away.

She follows that light and dwell designer the day after people made fun of her for showing her PT apt (btw, now I wonder if she was hoping people would think it was the house her husband was allegedly building for her in PT like some blogs believe)

When that didn’t work, follow this designer lady back after months (funny how she does this quite often when she’s not getting the attention she wants).

Follows some random directors. She still wants a job. That custom ugly furniture ain’t gunna pay for itself!

Posts a random photo dump of suggestive photos to indicate nothing but also making sure the ones who care will try and figure out if she’s in MA, NY, NYC, Canada, Wherever the narrative of where she lives fits.

meanwhile, her husband is in NYC filming with his attractive female costar who is much more well known than her (even if it’s the nepo baby comments) and has two films of her own coming out this month and her Madame web movie is still doing pretty well on Netflix.

Their pap photos are much better received by the general public and have comments shipping them and wishing they were together instead. Yikes!! Also…they actually do look good together. They fit.

Btw, I don’t think 🐟 is jealous of Dakota because of Chris. TBH, I don’t think she’s into her “husband” at all. From her actions, she doesn’t care about him or his well being. She cares about what his name can do for her. That’s it. And right now his name is being lumped with Dakota and not hers and I think it’s pissing her off. She needs to get those cheap outfits comped one way or another and her Liberia film isn’t cutting it. Miumiu not calling her back and nobody wants to see her in a solo pap walk….so.

Sorry to all the team asslickers on here but even you have to admit yesterday was a hilarious show your ass moment.

Sidenote: I like to think CE is putting on a bigger effort to look like he likes Dakota because Celine song is directing this film and he wants to do well for her. And also, he seems to simply just like Dakota. She’s pretty hilarious in her own right when she’s not being a flat actress 🤣 and maybe…just maybe, he wants to show you all whose watching that he does know how to act like he’s in love with someone. He just didn’t want to the last time he was in that park.

😉❤️

Yep, she doesn't care about him (and I don't think he cares about her). It's all about using his name to be mentioned in some gossip magazines. Otherwise these magazines wouldn't talk about her. And even the Portuguese magazines have to mention him when they talk about her. The Portuguese people don't care about her. I'm not even sure if they know her name.

[andyling]

WAIT FUCK GUYS I JUST HAD A GREAT IDEA FOR A COMIC SERIES THAT WILL APPEAL TO ME AND MAYBE SOME OTHER PEOPLE BUT LIKE DEFINITELY TO ME IF DONE CORRECTLY

So like, y’know how Tim and Damien are kinda having a custody battle for the Robin title right now because DC never really managed to successfully give Tim his own identity? Well maybe we can have a series focused on exactly that, Tim finding a new hero identity. 

BUT THAT’S NOT ALL FOLKS, BECAUSE DO YOU KNOW WHO ELSE NEEDS A NEW HERO IDENTITY?

KON EL FUCKING KENT

Do I ship Tim and Kon? Yes. Do I understand that Tim is in a relationship with Bernard right now? Yes. Do I know that DC would never let the poly relationship happen? Yes. 

But guess what, I don’t give a fuck. I’m desperate here. These two don’t need to smooch I just need them to talk to each other and be best friends and go on adventures and figure their shit out. I MISS THEM. THEIR RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC, EXCLUDING ANY ROMANCE, IS AMAZING AND I NEED MORE OF IT. 

Think about it, Kon and Tim know that Jon and Damien are going to take the mantles of “Superboy” and “Robin” and they have to learn to move on. They struggle to let go, they doubt whether they truly can make a name for themselves. So, they decide to leave Metropolis and Gotham. They separate themselves from the people that have defined their entire heroic lives. But both of them are afraid of being alone, so they go together. One last journey as Robin and Superboy. 

They travel the world together. They meet some familiar faces. 

Maybe they go visit Greta and Cissie and we get to see how their civilian lives are going. Perhaps the girls suggest that maybe the two need to let the hero life go. Maybe Tim and Kon even consider it, but they realize that being a hero is what they want to do. (AND THEY DON’T FIGURE IT OUT WHILE IN A FIGHT OR SOMETHING, NO THEY JUST FUCKING TALK. THEY BEAT SOME SHITHEAD UP AND THEN THEY TALK. WHY DID THEY BECOME HEROS? WHY DO THEY WANT TO KEEP BEING HEROS? GIVE THEM SOME FUCKING DEPTH DC I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD) 

Maybe they run into Anita. She’s found out that Slobo is alive and the three of them go to save him. (AND HE FINALLY GETS FUCKING RESCUED AFTER GETTING TRAPPED AS A CONCIOUS STATUE FOR SO FUCKING LONG FOR NO GODDAMN REASON I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE THAT WAS PUT IN THE FINALE FOR THE ORIGINAL YOUNG JUSTICE SERIES THAT LAST HALF OF THAT RUN SUCKED ASS AND EVEN IF YOU DON’T AGREE WITH ME ABOUT THAT WE SHOULD ALL AGREE THAT SLOBO DESERVED BETTER). There is a reunion and it’s sweet and happy and just a nice moment. 

Shenanigans ensure, blah blah blah. They meet more familiar faces, some friendlier than others. They meet new people that help them along their journey. They now fully understand what makes them different from other heros and how they want to put those skills to use. They know what kind of heros they want to be and are ready to pave a new path for themselves.

And at the end of it the two choose new names for themselves that are hopefully not stupid and are very cool and suits them. The two have a touching moment where they say just how much the other means to them. Then they hug, maybe kiss (sorry i’m delusional), and then go their separate ways. 

Tim returns to Gotham, returns to his family, and we get a nice little reunion between the bat family. He officially resigns as Robin and the first time his new hero identity is put into action is in Gotham with the rest of his family because no matter what, he’s still a bat. Tim, as a hero, does his thing and stops crime and keeps the city safe. However he also focuses his attention on the political and corporate corruption happening in not just Gotham city, but all around the world. He even uses his influence as Tim Drake-Wayne if it can help. Most people won’t know he’s the one digging up evidence and ensuring justice is served, but that’s okay. So long as people’s lives can be changed for the better, he’ll be happy. 

Kon returns to Metropolis and talks to Clark. They have a heart to heart conversation and Kon official gives up the title of Superboy. He then goes to Jon and Kon officially gives his mantle to him. Kon was the first Superboy and Jon will be a more than worthy successor. Unlike Tim, Kon doesn’t stay in his home city. He bounces around from place to place aiding whoever is need of his assistance, whether that be working with another hero to stop a villain or helping a small community recover from a devastating natural disaster. He may not have a home city like other heros, but he still has a home. That home is simply spread out all over the world. After all for Kon, home is wherever his friends are. 

We fast forward a few months. Tim and Kon meet up at the old Young Justice base. They joke about how much they hated each other when they first met, which leads into a serious conversation about much has changed. Despite everything, they both agree that they’ve changed for the better and will continue to keep improving themselves and their lives. And yet, even after all of that . . .

“Kon, we may have given up our old names, but we’re still a part of those legacies. No matter what the future has in store, there are some things that will never change. You’re my Superboy. Always will be.”

“And you’ll always be my Robin.” 

And the comic ends. 

[teecupangel]

So this idea has been bouncing in my head like an excited rabbit on caffeine. (I also don't know if anyone else thought of this but I thought it would be cool) so you remember the reblog chain where the players are all in Desmond head talking like a twitch chat, and the other reblog chain of Desmond's ancestor data gaining sentience because isu bstm, right? Well I had a thought, what if we combined the two, like maybe something like the part of the main group + Desmond are trying to get to the others who are in another part of Abstergo or the assassin's network and Desmond, let's say that while he was split he couldn't hear us until they passed through this really corrupted part of an ocean map (let's say it's in Edward's time) then all of a sudden Desmond hears one of us. (Sorry if this doesn't make sense. I hope you have a heath day/night)

I think this is the AC characters data in Abstergo’s database regaining sentience AU reblog chain with @piratekenway you’re talking about?

The Ratatouille AU where the ancestors can hear Desmond while ‘playing’, its more unhinged cousin, the Ratatouille AU where Desmond can hear us and the outside POV of Al Mualim thinking the Apple broke Altaïr and the sidestory of Altaïr accidentally connecting with Ezio while looking for Desmond (I hope I didn’t forget anything else)

Okay, so the idea is that we’re using the setup for the character data gaining sentience and we’re setting this as sorta like the ‘epilogue’ to the Ratatouille AU.

Instead of letting the world burn (“As a treat!” one of the voices chirped), he sacrifices himself. When he wakes up, he’s in Abstergo’s database, chained as a digital copy of Sample 17.

He can’t hear any voices anymore.

Are they disappointed with him?

Did they think they wasted their time trying to help him?

Did he… make the right choice?

He doesn’t know how much time has passed… when the virus started taking over the database and servers.

.

In this one, the virus isn’t made by Erudito + Assassins. It’s of ‘unknown origin’.

All they know is the name of the virus is “for desmond!” and it is targeting Desmond. Of course, Sample 17 is in one of the more secured encrypted ‘part’ of the database so it mutated to wake other data up.

Data that has connection with Desmond.

Along the way, the virus inside them starts waking up other data nearby, creating a strange team to rescue Desmond.

We can sorta play with this a bit and make Arno, Evie and Jacob become part of Abstergo’s database because they do have data of Arno’s descendants and it makes sense that the reason why the Templars knew where the Shroud is because they can access the twins’ memories as well and the Assassins just stole their DNA for their own Animus instead.

So they get to Desmond who is staying in the Grand Temple, just sitting there, staring at the devices, doubting and double-doubting himself if he should have activated the device when the people who care for him the most asked him not to.

Of course, Abstergo’s anti-virus and probably the entire security system is chasing after them so they don’t have time to actually talk.

They just run.

Well, they sailed using a fusion of the Jackdaw and Aquila…

… into a corrupted part of the West Indies.

The idea was… the virus didn’t harm them but it definitely fucks with Abstergo’s anti-virus and security system.

At the very least, they were hoping it would slow them down.

What they did not expect was for the entire thing to collapse under them…

And drop their modified ship into a different unfamiliar ocean.

“Holy shit!”

Desmond blinked.

“That scared the crap out of me. Goddamn it, Ubisoft. I know this is still being betatesting but Jesus Christ, loading the entire ship and dropping it from above??? What kind of programming does this game have???”

“Lollol. Dude, chill.”

“Is it an enemy ship? Like… can you shoot it?”

“Should you shoot it? Check its level first.”

They were all familiar voices.

“You don’t want a repeat of-”

“Guys?” Desmond asked, his voice a bit too quiet.

Hesitant.

He didn’t dare hope that it was them.

Not all of them.

But some of the ones he was most familiar with.

The ones who stayed with him the most.

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my god, Desmond?!”

“What’s Desmond doing in this game?!”

“Is it our Desmond???”

Desmond’s lips curved into a smile and his voice croaked as he said, “Yeah, I’m your Desmond.”

“Oh my god.”

“Desmond!!! You’re okay!!! We were sooo worried!”

“You think this is [Bored Anonymous]’s work??? Did their plan to use all our computers to try and connect with Desmond’s world and send our gift work?”

“Gift?” Desmond tilted his head.

Did they mean the virus?

He felt someone nudged his arm and he turned to look at Ezio. Everyone else seemed confused but Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton seemed to have an idea on who he was talking to.

Wait.

They can hear them!

Before Desmond could tell the voices that everyone could hear them now, one of them said hurriedly, “Oh fuck! Someone get [Bored Anonymous] quickly!”

“Why?”

“I only have 1 more hour to play this beta! What happens to Desmond if he stays in this beta server after the time is up?!! We can’t lose him!”

“Ohshitohshitohshit!”

“I’ll alert the discord server!”

“I’ll try to message them in Tumblr! They’re always online there!”

“Pretty sure that’s their queue…”

“We can still try!”

Desmond simply laughed.

Sure, the time limit they’re talking about was worrying but hearing all of them worrying about him…

It felt like he was finally home.