#his goggles is a pain in the ass to draw

[ashi-cookie]

some donnies

[wheatley-imagine-scenarios]

I’m drawing Virgil for his reference sheet and realizing how hard it is to draw both curly hair and also goggles, of which Virgil has both. Although I am still experimenting with it, so we’ll see how it ends up. 

[christinesekim]

sketches of gabriel, theres so many amazing redesigns of him but his goggles are a pain in the ass to draw in every single one 😭

[sionisjaune]

🎁 & honestly literally anything heist au but especially george??

you're soooo sweet, and i hope you have the nicest holiday break 💕

🎁mutuals get ficlets for the holidays!🎁

A Rothko. George has always wanted a Rothko. In his most secret fantasies the Rothko is properly his, mounted on the wall of his imaginary climate-controlled personal vault, but he feels almost satisfied just running his hands over the canvas, feeling the slight texture of smoothed-over oil through his gloves. 

“Orange and Yellow,” he breathes, careful not to mar the painting with the humidity of his breath. “Who did you snatch this from?” he asks Alex. Alex has his arms crossed smugly, one hip propped against the table George is examining the Rothko on. 

“It was a more challenging take than just a snatch, Georgie,” says Alex, puffing his chest out. “Picture me in one of those harnesses, lowering myself through a laser grid. With those ridiculous green dark vision goggles. It was proper heist shit.” 

George can’t help but choke on a little laugh imagining it. He pictures Alex’s skinny limbs spread like a spider, descending from the ceiling, pictures him back-flipping and somersaulting through red cartoon lasers, ducking behind plinths and slicing canvases from frames. 

“Just kidding,” says Alex. “It was way more embarrassing than that. The guard dogs almost took my leg off when I was slipping out. Luckily I had leftover treats.” 

George smiles, running his palm over the edge of the canvas, checking the condition, drawing up a mental tally of what the painting will fetch at the right kind of auction. Toto might even want this one for his collection—then George could visit it every day and think about Alex’s clever hands pilfering it from unappreciative owners. He pictures Alex hand-feeding giant, snarling Dobermans leftover treats in order to get away, the Rothko tucked under his arm. The image is less James Bond and more quintessentially Alex. 

“Blimey,” says George. “I shouldn’t be expecting the police to descend on my apartment and lock you away, should I?” 

“I got away clean,” says Alex. “Barely,” he adds, ruffling his own hair. “So how much will this pain in the ass fetch me?” 

George pinches his lips, finishing the math in his head. “Ten million. Minus a bit for the trouble of selling on the black market. But you’ll turn a profit.” 

Alex’s eyes go wide like they usually do when George mentions a sum so large. It’s barely anything to George, who appraises hundreds of millions of pounds of paper and canvas and paint each day, but watching Alex react always makes him remember the value of the materials beneath his hands. It’s unthinkable, sometimes, that the items George touches are anything other than colour and texture and coded meaning. It’s impossible to believe that they’ll be traded for something as banal as money. 

“Not bad,” says Alex, shaking his head. His hands twitch at his sides, almost as though he wants to touch the painting too. He looks like he’s wondering the exact opposite of George, perplexed by the amount of cash a collector will fork over for two blotchy rectangles. 

“You know,” says Alex, while George is snapping his gloves off and tossing them away. “I’m actually going to miss this one once it’s sold.” George arches an eyebrow at him, curious. “It kind of reminds me of you,” Alex explains. “You know. Square.” Alex laughs at his own joke, and George laughs too, even though the joke is a little bit mean. Alex’s laughter is just so infectious, red-faced and wheezing. 

“Thanks for that,” says George, cheeks aching. 

“Thank you, mate,” says Alex, nudging George in the side. Soon he’ll be running out of George’s apartment, the Rothko covered and tucked cautiously under his arm. George will miss them both. “Nobody else I would trust with this. Best in the business.” 

[tiredhawks]

Okay Horikoshi drawing Hawks yawning while Rumi plays with his goggles has triggered a whole new idea for me. Common nighthawks, a nocturnal bird. Hawks wears his goggles a lot, even when not flying. Even in his civilian clothes. He was wearing sunglasses in an airport. As a kid when he didn't have them, he was described as emotionless. Or? Maybe he was just very very sleepy.

Hawks is nocturnal and his glasses filter the light to make it appear dark out to him. The Commission thought him working at night would affect his popularity rankings and would make scheduling events a pain in the ass, so they switched up his whole cycle instead.

[msfcatlover]

Shadow Jason (Reverse Robins)

(Jason has... too many costumes, I literally cannot find a single reference page that has even a majority of them, let alone all of them. Massive pain in the ass to research this.)

Jason started out with just Tim's costume (he inherited it on incredibly short notice, so he didn't have time to do any modifications before he first hit the streets in it,) but over time he makes it his own.

Which is like...90% tributes & callbacks to Steph, Jason's personal hero. Jason does keep Tim's predominantly black styling and switches his highlight colors from purple & gold to blue & silver, but the blue is very much a dark indigo (cutting the middle ground between Steph's dark purple & midnight blue, and allowing different artists to draw him either leaning more blue or purple depending on lighting & personal taste.)

(Guess who found an even better bat symbol chart? Anyway, Jason's is the "Batman: Hush" bat symbol, and he trades the ribbon-border for silver stitching. Because Cass is right, the stitched look is badass.)

Jason keeps the black cloak with "purple" (now indigo) lining, but he replaces the gold ribbon trim for a thick silver stitching. He also makes the cloak shorter, hanging just below his knees rather than around his ankles. The trim also now traces the entire hem of the cloak, rather than just the hood.

(Once again, thank you Stephanie Brown Costume History page!)

I will add that though all past Shadow hoods have had a pretty basic silhouette, Jason wanted a droopy-pointy one, because he's a dramatic nerd.

(Basic hood vs Jason's hood)

Jason keeps the headset, but he switches Tim's visor out for glowing goggles in tribute to Steph's original Spoiler costume. He also brings back Steph's full-face mask, if a touch more armored than her original mask probably was.

(Jason's goggles glow white, though.)

Jason's chest piece is a lot less bulletproof vest, instead going for a segmented/borderline laminar piece. Somewhere between Duke's "White Knight" armor & Jason's "Gotham Knights: Eternal" chest armor. The panels are all black, but the base underneath them is indigo.

(Keep in mind that this is pre-growth spurt Jason, so while both of these chest pieces are for pretty bulky dudes, Jason's still on the short & lean side side of things. He's not trying to look bulkier, these are just the best references I could find..)

The sleeves are dark blue & fitted, made of durable slash- & stab-resistant fabric. Jason wears basically his RHatO Robin gloves, but without the weird loops on the sides. The gloves are predominantly black, but the red highlights are now indigo. He also has polished metal caps on his knuckles, echoing Steph's costume & buffing his own punches.

(Once again, it is really really hard to get a good reference shot of these gloves, but I think these 2 pages together give you a pretty good turn-around of them.)

I have not been defining utility belt styles, but whatever the differences between them have been, Jason rolls back to Steph's design. His is black with silver clasps/buckles, for the record.

I do like Jason's big pockets & cargo pants from recent comics, but I think he'd want to take Shadow back to its sleeker look than Tim's padded up & kitted out design. (Jason also doesn't need to carry nearly as much gear himself, since the rest of the family kinda babies him a little, so there's almost always one within shouting distance if he needs them.) I'd say he goes back to the padded leggings, but adds pouches that hang from his belt & strap to his thighs, mimicking both the look of Steph & Dami's thigh armor, and his own big-pockets look in recent comics.

(So imagine if those pockets were actually hanging from his belt the way his holsters are here, with a second strap around the thigh to keep them from bouncing around or getting in the way.)

I actually realized while looking at that Gotham Knights article that I wanted to give Jason the boots/greaves from the "Year One" costume, and while hunting for a better image of them found this awesome piece, which not only gives an excellent view of that leg armor but also actually has fitted pants with thigh-strapped holsters, to give a better idea what that should look like.

(Pants & straps should be black, red armor should be indigo with silver edges, which you even kinda get with the grey backing in this piece. Seriously, huge shout out to Damián Navarro Méndez, though, this design & render both look awesome! I hope they paid you really well for this one, and you didn't have to crunch over it.)

And that wraps up Shadow Jason! Hopefully it's enough of his own style to feel unique from the three other designs I've already done for Shadow, and like something Jason would actually wear. It's still recognizable as a Shadow outfit, and makes it very clear who Jason's primary inspiration was without directly ripping Steph off (or even being too obvious at a glance that he's shouting her out.)

I hope there's also enough echo of Cass & Duke to show that Jason's having to serve as kinda both Moonbeam & Shadow simultaneously; the guiding light & grounding dark to Gotham's Batman. Because Jason (like Tim) doesn't have a partner in this, but (unlike Tim) Jason doesn't have to stand fully alone in his efforts.

Phew! Thanks for sticking with me, folks, but we're done with Shadow now! Now I just have to do... everyone's grown-up designs...

(Don't worry, I'm still having fun and it's not nearly as daunting at it seems at a glance. It's just a lot, and their independent identities are going to be a touch harder since I'm basically starting from scratch—just a stack of references & a half-concept/half-vibe—where the legacy costumes have iterated on eachother, allowing me to start from a base every time I make a new one.)

[thenerdywitchofthenorth]

For my first time ever drawing Donnie I think it turned out pretty good.( actually it's my first time drawing any of the turtles)

For the first time ever I think I'm happy with my first drafts.What I'm not happy is with is the coloring. My purple markers suddenly decided to go "No" which it's a problem considering that Donnie is such a purple kid.

(I criticize well I draw in my purple SketchBook in my purple room, looking up references on my purple laptop, thinking about dying my hair purple again)

So I decided not to go with a flower crown for Donnie. I don't feel like he would be the type like would still want a crown but I think he would go for a metal one instead of a flowery one that is still simple but still elaborate. It's silver with amethyst. I also didn't add as many small details as I did with Leo, I think Donnie would prefer a more comfortable but still very stylish outfit ( of course I'm not projecting my own sensory issues I don't know why you're accusing me of) also I think he would feel more secure with extra layers to cover up his softshell, when he's not wearing his battle shell.

Then we have the god of Madness himself. His goggles are more steampunk but still futuristic, he is the god of innovation so for him to have elements that are a little ahead of his time I think it's fitting. Also, you can't see them here but I think that battle shell would have some detail on the metal.

Can I just point out the color matching Donnie skin was a pain in my ass.

But I really did like this outfit, I feel like he would also want to have a second one that's a little bit more freeing, because just like he doesn't wear a jacket due to the fear of it getting stuck in a propeller. I don't think he would want to wear his whole-up when he's inventing or when he needs to be a little bit more hands-on, out of fear of getting caught in gear , on fire, or just dirty.

We also have S.H.E.L.D.O.N . I talked to Ree about this, to add to their idea where S.H.E.L.D.ON is the soul of a tortoise, but Donnie not only took that soul but also clouds and made S.H.E.L.D.O.N .

that's why I also made Sheldon a little bit more round and puffy because Cloud turtle.

Then we have the final mortal disguise. Like I said , my markers were not being cooperative with me, so I didn't get the faded out color that I wanted. But yeah I do think that these purples would be a little bit more faded than shown here when he's in the mortal world and doesn't want to expose himself, but I also threw in some glasses and of course his trusty bo staff.

I would love to hear you guys' ideas / feedback like always.

@annonniiiiieeeee

@fatalflawsy

@furiousjellifish

[simp999]

Bloopers/Notes from "A New Home!"

☆I don't have anything too silly until ch. 15 :(

Ch. 1, Where am I?:

☆I started this fic at like, 2 am, just on complete impulse. Everything here just summoned itself from my 2 am brainrot.

☆I didn't really chat this chapter out with any friends, so nothing too silly.

Ch. 2, Meeting New People?:

☆I was planning on making reader more of a Simp, but I talked to my friends and we decided against it, since it would be difficult for reader to get along with characters more genuinely.

☆At the end of the chapter, "If I go to sleep here, will I wake back up in the real world?...", I was thinking of just posting chapter 3 where it said: You wake up, story over. The end.

Ch. 3, We are the Army.:

☆Army was an octoling since the beginning! You can see that in the banner. The background is made up of octopi instead of squids, and you can see a bit of a tentacle.

Ch. 4, If memory serves wrong...:

☆Bro I suck at writing flirty stuff. End me now, Aloha's difficult for me to write

☆The "nothin' personal, kid", was a total reference, and I plan on adding many more. I'm going to try my best to add some iconic vines that still suit the scene.

Ch. 5, Descisions, decisions.:

☆On the other hand, I looove drawing aloha! He's so cute and silly! I like to draw his tentacles very round and bubbly and man, his eyes are so pretty!

☆This was the chapter that made me start thinking about giving reader teammates, mostly because they needed someone other than a bench to sleep.

Ch. 6, Hoooow Anoooying.:

☆mASK MY BELOVED

☆Can you tell he's my favorite?

☆I wanted to make him a little silly, giving him more of a personality. He can't be scary all the time, I really do think part of it is an act.

☆Another anime reference: the lens of his gasmask shining, just like in an anime.

Ch. 7, SUB WEAPON HELL!:

☆I was torn between what to do for the banner. I already used Mask with his mask on for chapter 6, and I planned on using his maskless version for what's now chapter 13. But then I remembered another one of my favorite boyos, Desi! I know he isn't featured too much in this chapter, and I'm sorry, but I needed something!

☆Anyways, I know this entire battle by heart. I know all of Mask's voice lines. Save me.

☆I try my best to not show bias in my fics, but I will relentlessly show it outside of em'.

☆Ugh, can't wait for team cyan moments fr

Ch. 8, Newfound Family.:

☆THE GUYS FR

☆I was stuck between just giving reader nameless teammates, incase ya'll already had your own ocs in mind of something, but I HATE nameless characters. And characters that don't have a personality. I figured that I'd already have to give them personalities, so why not go all in.

☆Soooo, I threw in my beloved OCs! I've had these guys around for YEARS, so I know them and their personalities like the back of my hand, which makes writing for them super easy and fun!

☆bro they look so cursed with splatoon 1 hairstyles to me. I didn't have the heart to snatch their iconic hair, so ignore that.

LOOK AT HIM!! ITS NOT EVEN MILO ANYMORE HE'S JUST MARCUS SMH.

Ch. 9, Shopping Spree!:

☆I actually wrote this and the last chapter at 1 am by accident. I was like oho let me write a few notes down for tomorrow so I don't forget. But here we are 2k words later.

☆After seeing that the next day, I realised that the squad tm would take up 2 chapters total. There's 3 of them. So then I had to figure out how to do the banners. I worked it out, though!

☆Tasha's hair's longer I swear, it just didn't fit on the banner smh

☆Damn she and skull look a lot alike, huh

☆L

Ch. 10, Skull's Territory.:

☆I knew I couldn't have reader simp, but that doesn't mean I can't have some simpery!! So I have Milo, Leo and Tasha to do it!! They get to express my true emotions <3

Ch. 11, A Misunderstanding?:

☆sTEAAAALTH!!! <3333

☆My sweet boy

☆So the poll for background characters was mostly for him ngl

☆THOSE DAMN GOGGLES WERE SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS TO SHADE WAAAAH

☆I also may have colored them green by accident the first time and had to start over.

☆I reaaaally hate making characters like Rider go OOC, but I need the story to continue! I'm sorryyyy

Ch. 12, Getting Too Comfortable.:

☆FINALLY WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE UGH

☆Also, blushy rider. ♡♡

☆He wants that battle, dude

Ch. 13, Player Two?:

☆aaaAAAA MAAASK

☆May have made a 9 hour mask playlist to write to.

☆Ahem.

☆I was planning on going in official meeting order for these uhh "getting closer with the S4", (Rider, army, aloha, mask, skull.) but my clear bias for Mask got me to write for him first.

☆I struggled to choose which song, but the idea came to me because I learned all the lyrics to Kick Back(chainsaw man), not too long ago. But I figured I'd just go with one of the most well known series/openings.

☆Didn't make the cut:

-Was gonna have reader and Mask walk in the rain together. That's why reader grabbed Milo's umbrella, cause it was the biggest one.

-c'mon, that would have been cute

Ch. 14, ...You Didn't See that.:

☆I was planning this since the start to be honest. Not exactly this scenario, but I knew I wanted to throw this headcannon in there.

☆After seeing how much love my fic was getting, I was almost going to abandon the idea, afraid that my readers wouldn't like it, and leave.

☆Jeebus those tentacles took me way too long to draw.

Figuring out what to do for Army's meetup+scrapped ideas:

Ch. 15, Sweetheart.:

☆I only made it to 1k words with Skull's part, he really doesn't talk a lot so it's hard to fill up space.

☆Soooooo

☆You guys asked for it: Avi time!

☆Now finally, here's some of the discord chats I had with my friends. Plans for story along with memes. Blanked out hints for the next chapter.:

Ch. 16, An Unexpected Meetup.:

☆I completely winged it. I knew I wanted like- a dummy kinda where we'd see all the S4 at once

☆Sorry for minimal aloha time, we got him earlier in the series though! (Bias game strong, he's not my favorite s4 member :( )

☆I'll try for more aloha time soon I'm sorry

☆The kind of rivalry/jeasoulsy between them wasn't planned and I kinda don't like it, but it is canon that they don't really like eachother so

☆Eh

Ch. 17: Not Much of a Choice, Huh?

☆Ughhh this feels like a dating sim now and I hate it

☆But characters catching feelings ♡♡♡

☆Not to figure out how they deal with them and how readers gonna figure that out

☆Wah

Ch. 18: Challengers Approach!

☆ oOoo they catchin' feelings!!!

Ch. 19: The Freshest Squid on the Block!

☆ YOOOOO LEO FANBOY!?!?!

☆ Hehe, we love making Leo happy

☆ Ugh, Emperor. I was not looking forward to writing him. I personally don't have him as a favorite, I was never able to like his kingly attitude. (I looove his design as somebody who draws nd does character design, though! Well made character.) Buuut...(see ch. 21)

Ch. 20: The Absolute King.

☆Yesss! Reader showing more emotion!!

☆Someone's gettin' angyyy

☆Ohoho does this count as angst? Berly, but I'm enjoying it

☆ Did you guys know that I half specialise in angst? Yeah enjoy that info

Ch. 21: A Crushing Defeat.

☆ Making you guys hate him off the bat is a lot dunner to write! He was shitty and mean in the first bit where he was shown anyways, so suffer! He'll have to go through some character development eventually, but until then, he's your most despised rival mwahaha

☆I hope the wat I write him makes you wanna deck him in the face :)

Ch. 22: It Only Gets Tougher, I Promise

☆ ... what no, what makes you think mask is my favorite. I show no bias ever. (How many times have I said that, now?)

[x-raei-s-art]

Ok so... I decided I would redesign and potentially rewrite some aspects of Tmnt 2012, and we'll since I've been brought back to my 9-10 year old hyperfixation of mutant turtles, I went straight to character redesigning. Hope you enjoy my process lmao 🦐

A collection of beta designs of my redesigns of 2012 tmnt, and of course April was one I prioritized first, and I quite like it so it may be permanent (I could tweak the hair a lil more though)

(rough sketches)

Final result

Since she is a Krang expirement, after all they did give her telepathic powers I kinda wanted to explore that part of her as it was in like maybe by season 2 it was established she was a "mutant", but it was never heavily explored.

I kind of wanted her outfit to have more pop and make her stand out instead of the weird clothes she has, and since it takes place in 2012, I wanted her to fit like early 2010's teen heroine aesthetic (oh and she will be Hispanic cause I said so 🤪)

-----

Onto the great legend, tech genius, Donnie. I wanted to to stay true to his original design. Just added some goggles and some mixed toxic chemicals bottles on his strap, cause from what I've seen (I haven't watched the 2003 or 1987 yet) 2012 Donnie and Bayverse!Donnie are the only ones who mess with chemicals and expirement with antidotes so I wanted to heavily reference that.

Also donnie 2012 doesn't have the best tools and materials to work with when it comes to tech unlike Rise!donnie so I'm debating on if he should have the same skills he's always have and putting junk together and making it work, or up his knowledge to !Rise or !Bayverse level

Yes I did steal rise!donnie's goggles at first but than I looked for refs to redesign it and I got the bottom left *first image* as my final result so yeah (did try to do bayverse donnie's goggles but it was to much detail)

I do gotta admit, I put more effort on trying to write donnie's traits while designing him than the other boys 😀

-----

Now onto the Leader Blue, Leo. After all this is 2012 versions so yeah he's leader lol

So Leo was kinda a struggle, because I wanted him to have something that would make him different than donnie. The first thing I came up with was one of those fabric arm brace, with the Hamato Clan symbol. In Japan, when someone's a president to a club (from what I've seen in the animes) they are wearing the arm brace with the symbol of their club. So that was my first idea.

I was going to leave him with his original design until I went into looking at the other outfits he's wore on the series, and I got inspired with season 4 finally and decided to give him the fishnets he wore so yeah lol

-----

My boo, my bae, Raph the Violent Fucker His design was basically what made him look "bad ass" and "he's fucking stupid for that" vibe cause yeah thought it would be funny

with Raph I had an idea of what I wanted him to have. I first relied on the crack of his shell to giving me an idea, and that was that he was a reckless kid. The scars on his face and legs are due to reckless self-injury (not purposeful SH) or Leo.

Leo and Raph were always competing since kids so when they got their weapons Raph wanted to fight Leo, and of course not being trained, Leo swung his sword wrong and hurt his bro (I might add a couple of scars on Leo too just to be even)

-----

Now the precious boy Mikey is up next. His head shape was a pain in the ass to draw, and I might redraw him cause I'm not very happy with it. Though the general idea is drawn on here so I will use this ref for now.

There wasn't much thought put behind his design, I was just thinking about what would he wear to stand out from his brothers. I was struggling with how he would wear the wrapping on his leg so I came up with what's on the sketch (I don't really like but it does give me another idea). I did add stickers because I think April would just decorate him with stickers.

I also added more freckles on him because, I can

-----

I will say that these are just some beta designs and I will try and improve them, I might start writing about the relationship dynamics first before another redesign, maybe then I could get a better idea of what I should improve, keep, or change all together so for now I hope you found my lil hyperfixation on mutant turtles interesting lmao 🧍‍♂️🪄

[pointyearedelvishprincling]

Part 1 | Part 2 

Read all three chapters on ao3

For @emeraldcas ✨

After a restless night replaying the date through his head to the tune of his latest mixtape (big thanks to Zepp, Bon Jovi, and a Taylor Swift number about cowboys and chevvies), Dean had no idea what to expect on his second date with Cas.

His mind had gone over and over the day before; how he’d fallen asleep, his nose so stuffed up from hay fever (what kind of grown man can’t hack a bunch of flowers and crap? Seriously?) that even trying to make a move on Cas was totally off the cards.

There’d been a minute there, right after Cas had asked him out where he’d felt something. Certain that Cas, with that stubborn jaw and profound look in his staring eyes, was going to kiss him. He’d seen Cas in action before – the dude knew what he was doing. Dean had thought about the way Cas kissed Meg more often than he cared to admit. It was intrusive really, the image of Cas spinning her off her feet to pin her against that wall.

Cas was so strong. Ten years wasn’t enough to burn the image from Dean’s mind. That thing he had going on with Meg, whatever the hell that mess was… Dean wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. But if Cas wanted to throw Dean around a little bit, pick him up and kiss him breathless and stupid against a wall… well, Dean just might start hanging around hard surfaces more often.

Trading sleep for Zeppelin's wisdom was always a good idea, no matter what anyone tries to tell you. This time, it'd helped Dean come up with a whole new game plan to finally say those three words to Cas that had been ringing in his head all these years.

But, of fucking course everything went to shit when his day kicked off with three whole other words:

“So, get this.”

Dean loved his brother. Of course, he did. But when Sammy sat his sasquatch ass down next to Cas at breakfast that morning and told them about the case Eileen had just found, there was a second there where Dean considered shaving the little jerk’s head. And when neither Dean nor Cas could come up with a valid excuse without giving up the ghost on their sneaking around, there was no getting out of it.

Dean cursed himself through the entire plan for being so desperate to get back on the road these past few weeks. If anything, he’d only wanted the distraction: to feel useful for a minute while he pined away like an idiot over Cas.

Which is how Dean awoke tied to a tree deep in the woods after dark with his own hunting knives embedded in each of his shoulders.

Dean stretched out his leg in front of him, feeling something gross and itchy crawling around his ankles beneath his jeans. He let out an involuntary hiss of pain attempting to move his bad foot. Listening out, there was no sign of the pack of creatures.

How long had they been gone?

They’d split up the Scooby gang; Cas had gone with Sam to talk to the families of the victims, leaving Dean and Eileen to do the heavy lifting. If you’d asked Dean hours ago, he’d have told you that hunting with Eileen was the most fun he’d had in ages. The lady knew her shit, called Dean on his – and apparently knew how to disappear completely when she felt like it.

Darkness had already fallen when he’d heard the first scream. Dean and Eileen had run side by side through the trees, following the sound with their guns cocked and flashlight cutting through the night. The screams changed direction, growing further away the closer they got, only to somehow end up behind them. Dean had halted Eileen with a hand on her shoulder, dimming his flashlight before pointing it to his own face, mouthing “hold up.”

A cry had sounded somewhere to the left of them and when Dean flinched, Eileen hauled Dean behind a tree. With only one pair of homemade thermal goggles between them, Dean didn’t get a chance to argue when Eileen clapped a hand over his lips and mouthed something about drawing the creatures out before she ran off into the night.

Turning in the opposite direction Eileen had disappeared to, Dean swore as he clicked off his flashlight. It took more time than he had to spare for his eyes to adjust to the near total darkness. High above the sky was peppered with stars, but the light of the waxing moon was swallowed whole by the towering treetops.

The woods had fallen silent. Each crunch of the earth beneath Dean’s boots sent a chill down his spine. He knew he was being watched. Every direction he’d turned, he’d felt eyes on the back of his head. The cold chill like breath on the back of his neck. Every hair on his body stood on end.

A shot split the night, sending the birds overhead cawing in their flee to safety. A second shot and then a third echoed far to Dean’s right, sending him running through the trees toward Eileen. The wet rattle of a creature’s growl was swiftly cut out by the distinct thunk and rolling sound along the forest floor. Dean had paused, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He’d almost fallen to his knees in relief when Eileen’s mumbled “gross” sounded somewhere ahead.

The sound of a branch cracking behind him had Dean clicking on the safety of his gun, pulling out his knives instead. He had to lure as many of these things as he could from Eileen, and going by what he’d heard, bullets weren't going to do these bastards much damage. He’d tore off in the opposite direction, switching on his flashlight so whatever the hell was still out there would go for Dean instead.

Zagging through a forest without a damn clue where you are is a dumbass idea on a good day. Doing it at night with fuck knows how many monsters on your tail – that was a whole other ball game. Even a year in purgatory hadn’t prepared him for these gnarled and blackened trees and thick branches of thorns everywhere he turned. Dean had crashed into a low hanging branch, causing him to flip right over the damn thing and land ass first on the muddy earth.

He’s sensed it then, like a shadow in the corner of your bedroom late at night that looked a little too monstrous to be the chair stacked with unfolded laundry. Dean forced his upper body backward, kicking both legs into the air. Instead of propelling himself back to a standing position, his boots had collided with something hard. He grappled for his fallen knife. Shone his flashlight right in the creature’s face, stunning it just long enough to get his bearings.

“You’re one fugly son of a bitch, you know that?” Hadn’t been his smartest move making the fucker angrier, but it wasn’t every day you came face to face with a giant radioactive muppet looking bastard. A high-pitched scream ripped from its throat and the thing launched itself at Dean, all claws and matted hair. Its head hit the ground before it ever got a chance to do damage.

Muddied ass aside, Dean had felt pretty damn proud he and Eileen were neck and neck with killing these fuzzies. Which was about the time an answering scream – same high-pitch and low rattling breath – was cut right through.

2-1 to Eileen. Dean had to step up his game.

Twice more he’d slipped, sensing the creatures crowding on him from every direction. It only took one hasty turn for Dean to slide his foot beneath the root of a tree for everything to go to hell.

He’d almost blacked out with the pain the moment he hit the ground and his ankle stayed standing. Leaves had rustled all around; the trees overhead seeming to part for the moonlight to hit Dean like a spotlight. Somewhere far off, another strangled yelp from one of the creatures told him Eileen was still fighting: 3-1 if they were keeping track. Which he wasn’t.

Dean had placed the handle of his flashlight between his teeth, biting down hard against a scream as he yanked his foot free of the root. He knew before standing that it was broken. That he’d have to stay put to fight.

It was the last thing he remembered before a crack like thunder hit him over the head.

Now, Dean’s phone buzzed in his back pocket for the second time since he’d woken. There was no reaching it. He pulled against the ropes, stomach clenching in knots as his shoulders throbbed with every movement. Blood was sticky on his forehead; the only sign he wasn’t bleeding out.

There was a moment there, right before consciousness had welcomed him back to the world where Dean thought this was it. He was on his way out. That old belief he’d drummed into his brain his whole life kicking in; a core instinct in the face of danger. I was always meant to go out like this.

Now the sense was slowly coming back to his banged-up head, he realised fuck no. He wasn’t about to die on some dumbass hunt now things were finally looking up. He’d sacrificed enough, died enough, and there was nothing tearing him from Cas again. There was no damn way.

For the first time in his whole life, Dean had hope. He had a chance. And he sure as shit wasn’t losing it to no teenage mutant ninja Gonzo gang.

The dark clouds parted above, moonlight shining silver on his fallen gun. Dean held his breath. Counted down from five and acted on two as he shifted his ass forward, reaching out with his good foot. Pain exploded in his shoulders, waking every deadened nerve down his arms that had long fallen asleep from the ropes. He gasped, fighting the wave of nausea before he could bear to look at where the gun was now.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean hissed. He’d managed to kick it further out of reach.

Where the hell was Eileen? Where was Sam and Cas?

Dean rested his head against the tree. His hands sticky with blood, scratching fruitlessly at the rope. It was so quiet.

Dean looked up to the sky, stars shining in his pleading green eyes as he did the only thing he could.

“Cas, if you can hear me. I need your help, man. I need you.”

                                     #

There’d once been a time when Cas had only tolerated Sam Winchester for the sake of his older brother. Sam, the vessel of Lucifer. The boy king fated to bring about the end of the world. Of course, Cas had long since gotten to know Sam. The man he’d once thought of as an abomination, he now considered a friend. He cared deeply for Sam, in very different ways than he did for Dean.

There were times, however, when Cas longed for the days of gently knocking humans unconscious when they grated on his nerves.

At first, Cas was okay with the change in plans. A romantic setting wasn’t necessary to spend the day with Dean. Cas had fallen in love with Dean on harsher days with a bloodied face. With a silly cartoon character’s ascot around his neck; with a stubborn curl of his lower lip. He’d fallen for Dean through the sad smiles of countless goodbyes, with tired eyes and a prayer on his lips. He’d fallen many times in countless ways. If there was one thing he could count on each day, through worlds of uncertainty, it was falling in love with Dean Winchester all over again, whoever he grew to be that day.

It’d been Sam’s idea to split the group the way they had, foiling all of Cas’ plans.

Dean had texted him soon after they’d split up. Just a simple: “Raincheck?” and it’d been enough to lift Cas’ spirits. They were trying. Their efforts weren’t going away. As an angel, Cas supposed he should feel more patient. As a person, he was hanging on by a thread. Wanting was an impatient ordeal, but for the first time, having was just in reach.

He and Sam spent the afternoon interviewing the families of four victims, finding no correlation between them and no obvious patterns for the attacks. Except, of course, for the mysterious screeching reported in the woods. When Dean and Eileen had nothing to report back, Sam drove Cas to the local hospital for further digging.

After tedious questioning with minimal answers, all the doctors would reveal was that there’d been a surge of animal attacks. Animosity had broken out between the director of local wildlife preservation and the police, who insisted the attacks could only have come from wolves. Ever since the police had showed up, they lost all chance of getting the information they were looking for. Which was how Cas and Sam found themselves dressed in stolen medical attire, sneaking into the morgue.

The bodies Cas inspected bore deep claw marks; too small for that of a bear and certainly not consistent with any species of wolf. If it hadn’t been for Eileen and Sam’s frequent texting, Cas may have given in to the uneasy feeling building in his body. Of course, he was worried for them both regardless.

Cas had developed a friendship with Eileen since his return; had found her presence in the Bunker a comfort he hadn’t then realised he was sorely lacking. Eileen knew what it was to return to life when death had marked you as its own. She’d eased Cas through the adjustment and he’d be eternally grateful for it. But it was their late night conversations – gossip, perhaps – about the Winchesters that he enjoyed the most.

It was rare that Cas felt understood by anyone, but already Eileen had become very dear to him.

They were several hours deep into research in the local archival library when the sun began to set. Piles of books littered the table to the weary librarian’s behest, and yet they’d come no closer to an explanation. Cas felt strange without his usual coat but when Sam had begrudgingly made a passing comment on how Dean would love Cas’ outfit, the angel supposed he could bear it a while longer.

Once the books had proven useless and Sam had begun scouring the internet for answers, Cas grew impatient. The library was mostly empty and after several stern warnings that it would be closing soon, he wandered off between the tall wooden shelves.

Usually, Cas found himself rolling his eyes when Dean’s voicemail sounded on the other end. But right now, something felt off. Cas tried again and again, each attempt met with “This is Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare after the tone.”

On his final try, Cas paused after the beep. Seconds ticked by while the angel stared up at the beams on the ceiling as though he could see right through to the stars beyond. He licked his lips, throat working before he finally gathered the strength to say: “Be safe, Dean. I hope you and Eileen are taking care of each other.”

Cas stared down at his phone long after he ended the call. The image Dean had set in the background was no more than a year old and yet it felt so long ago. Jack sat in the driver’s seat of the Impala, Cas next to him. Dean had somehow managed to squeeze himself in next to Cas, one arm draped around Cas’ shoulder, the other reaching to change the music. Cas remembered being so proud of Jack learning to drive. He also recalled how desperately his heart had raced when Dean had pushed in next to him, determined to be a part of this milestone for Jack. Dean had insisted he’d taught Sam how to drive, that it was only right he was there for Jack, too.

A wave of emotion Cas recognised as nostalgia crashed over him. Life had been so lonely then; no end in sight for the constant horrors. No guarantees that any of them would live to see another week. Cas’ deal with the Empty had lived in him like an anxious parasite, tainting any happy moment with the reminder that he could never know true happiness. But Cas looked at the photograph Sam had taken. At the small smile on his lips as he watched over his son; the way his shoulders leaned back into Dean. Jack’s face determined and momentarily free as any other child should feel. And Dean – the carefree grin on Dean’s face, the crow’s feet next to his eyes, and the old band t-shirt he wore only on days Cas noticed he was most himself. Dean was beautiful.

With a sigh, Cas pocketed the phone and returned to Sam.

“Dean’s not answering my calls. When did you last hear from Eileen?”

Sam shut his laptop, rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands after hours of research. “They’re fine, Cas. Eileen texted around eight.”

Cas pulled out his phone, checking the screen. “That was two hours ago.”

Sam sat up sharply. He scrambled for his phone, cursing under his breath about losing track of time. He ran a hand through his hair as he opened their text chain. Cas rushed to his side, reading from the screen.

Eileen 💚☘️| 7.58pm Nothing yet. You guys are missing all the fun.

Eileen 💚☘️ | 9.03pm Might need your help.

Eileen 💚☘️ | 9.26pm Sam?

Eileen 💚☘️ | 9.43pm Meet me where you dropped us off. You got to see this.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

“It’s only been thirteen minutes,” Cas said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “If we leave now…”

Sam fired off a quick text letting Eileen know they were on the way. Gathering their things, Sam grimaced as he waved at the librarian. Cas suspected it was more of an apology than a goodbye.

Six minutes later, they pulled up on the side of the road, exactly where they’d dropped off Dean and Eileen. Cas was out of the car before Sam had switched off the engine.

“Dean?” Cas called. Sam passed him a moment later, running through the darkness with only the flashlight on his phone to light his way.

Cas made to follow when he spotted Sam almost crashing at full force into his girlfriend. She was covered in blood, though given the wide smile on her face, Cas assumed none of it was her own. They made their way back to the car before Cas noticed the large sloth-like creature laying prone beneath a tree.

Sam switched on the headlights of the car to get a better look while Eileen showed them the marking on the creature’s headless hide. Cas frowned. He’d never seen anything like it before. He squinted through the forest, seeing no sign of Dean but before he could ask where Dean was, Sam swore low under his breath.

“Holy shit. We’ve seen that symbol before,” Sam waved for Cas to come closer. Cas mirrored the angle of Sam’s head as he studied the creature.

“Is that..?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “Same one we saw at the second victim’s house.”

Cas frowned, though his mind was elsewhere. When Eileen asked what they’d learned, he only shook his head distractedly, allowing Sam to explain.

Where was Dean?

Cas turned toward the road, staring up at the starry sky above. He listened past the chirping of birds awake long after their bedtime, past the distant sounds of the town, the rumble of car engines and the friction of their tyres on the asphalt. He squinted through the sound of innocent creatures and burrowing insects, the swaying of leaves on restless trees.

But it was Dean’s voice he heard clear as a bell when the prayer reached him from only miles away.

“Cas, if you can hear me. I need your help, man. I need you.”

Cas said nothing to the others before following the bond of Dean’s prayer into the midst of the forest. He snapped his wings close to his body once he’d arrived among the blackened trees. For a moment, there was no sign of Dean. Only a faint growling closing in from two different directions.

“Shit.”

Dean’s voice sounded from a nearby tree. Head tilted and brow furrowed, Cas crept on silent feet toward him.

A piercing scream rent the night, echoed instantly by another.

“Oh, you fucked up sons of bitches are dead when my b–“ Dean taunted. “Come on! Come and get it you ug–“.

Cas didn't have a chance to wonder how the witch had captured Dean. Two darkened shapes raced toward where Dean sat bound to the tree. White claws filthy with mud and gore shone beneath the moonlight; their spiralled noses concealing any sign of sharpened teeth. They slowed to a walk, eyes glowing a sickly green as they drew in rattling breaths.

“Dean, shut your eyes!”

Cas blasted the creatures backward with pure white light. Already they were crawling at surprising speed toward Dean when Cas blocked their path. Their thin mouths opened as they drew themselves to full height. Cas dove, knocking both creatures to the ground, his palms glowing bright as starlight against their faces.

Cas stood from his crouched position over the bodies, looking down at his hands. His grace hadn’t wavered for a second to smite the creatures. He turned to Dean, panicked eyes falling first to the blood on his face, then to the knives in his shoulders.

“Nice timing, buddy,” Dean smiled weakly. “Think you can help me out here?”

Cas crouched before Dean. He traced his thumb along Dean’s cheek, breath catching when Dean leaned into his touch.

“You’re okay,” Cas whispered, more to himself than anything. He cupped Dean’s face in the palm of his hand, seeing stars shine in his love’s eyes. Dean wet his lips with his tongue, holding Cas’ gaze as time passed heedlessly around them.

“’m okay, Cas,” Dean said eventually. “Thanks,” he paused, dropping his gaze to his lap, “for showing up when you did.”

Cas set about untying Dean as gently as he could manage. “I heard your prayers,” Cas said tentatively. “I always come when you call.”

Dean blew out a breath through his nose. “Yeah, I know you do.”

“Hold still.” Cas frowned, assessing the knives in Dean’s shoulders. It was a miracle they’d missed the bone entirely. “Would you prefer if I counted down from five?”

“Sure, Cas. Have at it,” Dean laughed, though his eyes widened with panic.

“Five, four, three, two – “ Cas yanked both blades free at once, instantly dropping them to the ground. Dean gasped in a breath and Cas shushed him, his grace flowing through his hands on Dean’s shoulders, healing him instantly.

Dean’s fingers closed around Cas’ wrist. He shut his eyes, rolling out his shoulders in blissful relief.

“Sit forward,” Cas murmured, pulling Dean toward him. Ignoring Dean’s sarcastic “yes, doctor”, Cas reached behind Dean’s head, running a soothing hand through his hair as he healed the head wound.

Dean shivered slightly beneath his touch. He held Cas’ hand against his chest, and Cas felt the thrum of Dean’s pulse against his own.

“Can I ask why you’re dressed like Doctor Sexy?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story.” He hauled Dean to his feet, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Dean let out a sharp hiss and collapsed against the angel. Cas caught him, lifting Dean off his feet entirely before he could berate himself for it. Dean froze for a moment, his body entirely rigid. Even washed out by moonlight, Cas could see the blush blooming along his freckled cheeks.

“Think I broke my foot,” Dean mumbled, reluctantly wrapping an arm around the angel’s shoulder.

Cas wrapped his wings protectively around them both, sparing a glare to the strange creatures laying dead on the forest floor for what they’d done to Dean. “I’ll carry you to the car,” Cas said seriously, knowing he could easily heal the damage. Knowing Dean knew it, too.

“Okay,” Dean drew out the word. Cas felt his cheeks heat as Dean’s gaze roamed over his face. Dean tugged on the collar of Cas’ stolen doctor’s coat, smirking to himself. Dean had always had a strange fixation on doctors. And cowboys, for that matter.

Cas filled Dean in on what little they’d learned. How it’d been Eileen’s discovery of the symbol carved on the creatures’ hides that they’d connected the symbol to the family of one of the victims. Dean cursed. Putting the Queen of Hell aside, Dean hated witches. In this instance, Cas couldn’t help but agree. The family had clearly allowed some experiment to go awry, and took no responsibility for the harm it had done. Not even to one of their own.

Dean didn’t complain as Cas carried him on the two-mile journey back to the others. He was warm against Cas; the familiar scent of coffee, motor oil, and Dean soothing Cas like nothing else had all night. With each warm breath against his neck, Cas imagined how Dean’s lips would feel against the sensitive skin. How he’d taste if Cas were to press his lips against his own. How holy it would be to share breath with the man he’d died for.

“How come every time I try to date you, you wind up playin’ doctor for me, huh? What’s that about?”

Cas smiled at the exasperated tone. “Strike three,” he pondered aloud. “In sports terms I believe that means we go out now.”

Dean snorted. “That’s not – I think you mean…” Cas tilted his head to look at Dean, trying to riddle out where he was going with this. “Yeah, Cas. Strike three,” Dean smiled, his eyes soft and wide. Cas knew that look – knew Dean was placating him. He didn’t mind one bit.

A soft silence graced between them before Dean said, “wait, Cas, stop.”

Cas halted in his tracks, his wings lifting from around them both.

“Put me down a minute,” Dean said, already swinging his arm out from around Cas’ neck. When Cas opened his mouth to protest, Dean gruffly added, “I just… gimme a minute.” So, Cas gently placed Dean’s feet on the ground, still holding him beneath his elbows to support most of Dean’s weight.

Dean slid to the ground, kneeling before Cas. “Can’t believe I’m doin’ this in freakin’ Mirkwood. Damn it.”

“Dean?” Cas frowned, reaching out to Dean unconsciously while trying to give Dean the space he needed.

There was a pause where Dean licked his lips, his eyes fixed on something behind Cas before he reached out for Cas’ hand. Dean’s shoulders relaxed the moment Cas squeezed his hand in return. Cas said nothing, confusion taking over as he looked down at the man he’d worshipped from the moment he pulled Dean from hell.

“Cas, I–, “ Dean started, his throat bobbing as he harshly swallowed the unsaid words. He shook his head; a frown knit between his brows. His jaw set and his breath came in shallow pants as he gathered himself for something that had Cas' heart beating wildly.

Cas placed his other hand on Dean’s shoulder and remembered the first time he gripped Dean tight, saving him from the racks of hell. Remembered the crypt, when Dean broke through a barrier no angel nor man should have been capable of with his declaration of sincerity. Remembered what might have been their final moment in the dungeon, when his bloody palm left one last mark on the man who’d save the world for love.

It was Dean’s bloody hands that held Cas now. Dean’s eyes that filled with tears as he silently prayed the words that couldn’t leave his lips.

“Cas, I dunno why this is so hard for me. You’re my best… my best friend. I was dead without you, man. I can’t explain it. I’ve been fightin’ for the world my whole life, but it don’t mean shit without you. None of it. I get so damn scared, that I’m… that I’m gonna turn out to be – but you changed me, too, Cas. You got us off that holy road and you saved this damn place. You saved me. Don’t think I don’t know that takes one stubborn son of a bitch, but you did it.”

Tears spilled freely down Dean’s face as he pressed a kiss to the back of Cas’ hand. “I’ve wanted you the whole damn time, dumbass. ‘Course you could’a had me. I’ve been yours from the start and I’ll take you any way I can get ya, cursed or not. But I need you to live, Cas. ‘Cause, sweetheart, maybe I’m a selfish son of a bitch, but I’m done dyin’. I want a life. With you in it. So just please… stay with me. Be with me. I’m yours, Cas.”

Dean looked up to the angel, stars shining in his godless eyes. The next words came broken and raw from his lips. As holy as any prayer. “I love you.”

Cas wiped away Dean’s tears with a gentle thumb on his cheek before lifting him to his feet. He held Dean close, cupping his cheek as fresh tears spilled down his own face. Dean let out a shaky breath, his face bathed in starlight as he smiled brave and bold and beautiful as the night they met.

“I love you,” Dean repeated, his breath hot and wet against Cas’ lips. “I love you so god damn much.”

“I love you, too, Dean,” Cas smiled, wide and beautiful.

It was a night of burning stars and bloody palms that Castiel wondered, one last time, how it would feel to have this. They met in the middle; freedom becoming soft lips and warm breath on stubbled skin. Hesitant touches becoming desperate, and gasping breaths lost to the need to taste how being loved this vastly feels. Cas burned bright as a supernova, his fully healed wings wrapped tight around the two of them. He smiled into the kiss, feeling Dean smile against him, too. And then they were laughing, crying, clinging, and peppering kisses on flushed and tear-stained cheeks.

It was a first kiss that should have been a thousandth. But it was real. It was them.

Cas picked Dean up as footsteps approached, burrowing his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Sam’s voice broke through the moment, foiling Cas’ plans once again. “What are you –“

Dean cursed under his breath, swiping roughly at the wetness on his face. Eileen crossed her arms, smirking as she leaned against Sam’s side.

“What’s your final count?” she said to Dean with a knowing glint in her eye.

Dean’s expression was sheepish as he petulantly replied, “You first.”

Eileen flipped her bloodied knife, the stained silver shining before Sam’s flashlight. “I’m sitting pretty on eight.”

Cas grinned.

“Eight?” Dean echoed incredulously. Cas tightened his grip around Dean when it seemed he was going to drop out of his arms entirely. “That’s bullshit. Wasn’t that many of ‘em.”

Eileen pointed with her blade to were Dean’s feet. “Enough to take you down.”

“Whatever. I got the last of ‘em while you and Sam were off – how the hell did you guys find us?”

Sam’s lips were pursed when he said, “You’re right by the road, jerk. What the hell happened to you anyway?”

Cas glanced sidelong at Dean; at his swollen lips and pinkened cheeks. He longed to reach out, to hold Dean closer still until the image of him bound and broken was a distant memory. He felt Dean’s fingers brush the back of his neck, curling in the short length of Cas’ hair.

“Long story,” Dean said bluntly. He swallowed harshly; eyes shut as though he were in pain. But then Dean faced his brother. Held Sam’s gaze as he said, “Listen. There’s somethin’ I gotta say. About me. And… and Cas.”

Cas squeezed Dean reassuringly, feeling a fierce protectiveness for the man he loved exposing his heart like an open wound for a second time that night.

Eileen beamed, her eyes glittered as she looked between Cas and Dean.

Sam shuffled on his feet. A small smile playing on the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I figured.”

“You what?” Dean frowned. Cas could feel Dean’s racing heartbeat against his skin.

Sam only rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Eileen’s shoulder. “I mean, I saw the hickey,” Sam tapped his neck as he looked pointedly at Dean. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“It’s a bee sting, asshole,” Dean choked out, slapping a hand over the faint purple bruise on his neck. “Shut up.”

“Sure,” Sam said, in a tone that Cas recognised as sarcasm. “Well, I’m really happy for you guys. It makes sense, you know?”

Eileen winked at Cas in a way that told him they’d talk about it later, away from the prying ears of their boyfriends. He winked back, nodding secret and solemn.

Happiness, untainted by the threat of old bargains or the end of the world, was a warm feeling. It was bigger than first sunlight on stretched wings and mumbled conversations with bees. More powerful than anything the angel had ever faced. As they made their way back to the car, Cas was struck by the enormity of his joy.

He was home.

He was loved.

And he was happier than he'd ever believed was possible.

“So,” Dean whispered, draped over Cas in the back seat, the moonlight soft on his freckled cheeks. Sam and Eileen had gone to deal with the witch, leaving Dean and his fully healed foot alone with Cas while they waited to act as back up. The soft tones of Dean’s music playing on the radio, Cas’ discarded trench coat warming their tangled legs. “How ‘bout this next date, doctor?”

[hislittleraincloud]

Blood Draw with a Cute Mexican Daddy 🌯 🌮💦

To the best of my recollection, as I'd gone into the City (S.F....I live where Enid lives) for bloodwork before I catch up with my specialist today. BG: I hate the incompetence of this clinic, but as a Poor, I must go there. It's LGBTQ+ friendly and is known for its 🏳️‍⚧️ care. I hadn't had this phlebotomist before, though. I was thinking of working it into Afterburn, but I'll do something else that's similar. This one tickled me.

Me: This time you guys need to get what you need to get from me in this one shot. Last time you asked me to come in for a similar thing, I sat here and made sure that the nurses double checked the list of needs, and they still called me the next day saying that they forgot something. I cannot come into this clinic or anywhere where my immunocompromised ass can get sick and die from COVID.

Funky Cold*: Uh...okay. I get you, I've got all that the doctor asked for right here.

Me: *notes his several tubes* That's why I wear my mask and goggles everywhere. *notes his mask is pulled over his chin* But I do like to be able to see your beard.

FC: *instantly blushes* Thanks...*proceeds to try and find a vein on my right arm and is failing*

Me: Did you want to try my left arm? It's where I usually get it drawn from. The vein is easier to see.

FC: Yeah, sure. *I could tell he felt like a bit of a failure...but he was still grinning and bright*

Me: *unsheaths left arm from jacket and puts it on the armrest* Hold on a sec, let me help you. *PROCEEDS TO SMACK THE EVERLOVING SHIT OUT OF THE CROOK OF ARM, HARD*

FC: *looks shocked but nervously so* Whoa!

Me: It's fine. Do you need me to do it some more?

FC: NO... *sees that it's red and doesn't know what to say*

Me: Are you sure? I like pain.

FC: *is shaking his head and getting ready to insert his needle* Tell me something, though: Is it raining outside?

Me: Unfortunately no.

FC: ...Unfortunately???

Me: I love the rain.

FC: Yeah, but that means I'd have to take an Uber.

Me: *ttly confused since it seems like it would be more dangerous to take a stranger's car than BART*

FC: *delays the pricking, proceeds to tell me about how taking an Uber instead of walking to BART if it was raining would spare him from getting drenched*

Me: Huh. I guess that's fine if you don't like to get wet. You sure you don't need me to hit it some more? I should let you hit it...*quieter* Smack...oo Daddy, gimme more.

FC: No, you're good, heh... *has a real nervous grin on his face as he sticks it in and fills tube after tube as I just stare at his beard and talk more about why I just can't come in as often as I used to*...*finishes up and pulls it out (odd, because usually the phlebotomist will just hit the spring to retract), almost jumps up with a grin, huffs*

Me: What?

FC: *pinked, huge nervous grin, chuckling* Nothing, you're just the first one all day who's gotten me all...WOO! *more chuckling*

Me: I tend to have that effect on people.

*Gen X will get this ref, and the poor man's last name is the rest of the song title (I think, I had trouble reading his name badge because of my poor eyesight/goggles...plus his name badge was on his belt and he probably thought i was looking at his 🍆).

[hellowkatey]

I refuse to believe the droid that blew up under tech's ass didn't cause more damage

3.9k words ~ depictions of violence ~ ao3 ~ a little whump for your troubles

"They're using live rounds!" Hunter hisses, and Tech's blood runs cold. Live rounds? The Kaminoans have never resorted to training with live rounds within the simulation chamber. Even at a low power, live rounds have 62% chance of causing extensive damage to the room's durasteel construction, as opposed to the 21% chance with stuns. That does not even account for the monetary loss if a soldier were to lose their life or require medical attention. All in all, it's a horribly irresponsible training tactic. Something has changed. But why? Tech does not have an answer for that.

He looks at Hunter and Echo crouched behind the barrier next to him. "Get Wrecker," Hunter commands, the flurry of bright red blaster shots zooming overhead. "We'll cover you."

Tech offers a single nod in confirmation and eyes the distance to his fallen brother. With cover from both Hunter and Echo, and if he approaches from the opposite side of his barrier, he should have a relatively high chance of success. Assuming he can keep his head down, of course.

Tech makes his way to the barrier closer to Wrecker without issue.

"Wrecker, are you alright?" He asks, his anxiety quelling at the sight of his brother crawling toward him. The shot did not seem to fully penetrate his armor, which is good news. Tech runs out to meet him, grabbing Wrecker by the shoulder to help him get out of the line of fire.

Just in time it seems. One of the trigger-happy droids notices their movement and leaves a trail of carbon scoring in their wake.

Tech and Wrecker collapse against a barrier just as Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair fall back from their previous positions. He can see them approximately eight meters away. Too far to hear any orders without Hunter alerting the droids to their potential plan.

Suddenly their barrier is getting pounded by blasters. The training droids have discovered their hiding place and are firing without mercy. Smoke from the live rounds curl from the other side of the barrier, fogging up Tech's goggles and filling the air with the horrendous scent of burnt plastoid.

Or perhaps that is the smell of Wrecker's melted chest plate. Difficult to tell. Tech is quickly inching toward overstimulation from the deafening shots, heavy footsteps, and smell of smoke assaulting his senses..

He peers around the corner of their hiding space to get an idea of how close the droids are when a shot slams against the corner— far too close to comfort. He recoils just in time, but the heat of the shot still warms the skin between his helmet and blacks. There seems to be no clear break as the line of their attackers moves forward. He and Wrecker are stuck unless the others can help.

A whistle cuts through the sounds of battle. Tech and Wrecker look at their sergeant who waits for their attention before going through a serious of hand signals.

Split up. Cover. Draw fire. Distract and manual take down. Reprogram. Tech nods along, recognizing this particular sequence.

"Oh!" Wrecker exclaims, collapsing dramatically from his crouched position. "I hate hand signals."

"Perhaps if you memorized them," Tech offers, though he knows there is no chance in hell that will ever happen.

"Why don't you memorize them?"

"I have." Tech is more surprised that Wrecker assumed he hadn't. "What we did on Felucia."

Wrecker is on his feet in an instant. "Why didn't you just say that?" He throws a thumbs up to Hunter and the others— the only hand signal they can ever trust Wrecker to remember— and crouches his way to the outskirts of the chamber.

Tech watches as Hunter and Crosshair lay down cover fire, splitting up to spread the attention of the droids. And Echo assumes his ARC trooper role of running head-on into the action. As the droids shoot at his quick run, Wrecker runs up from behind, tackling one of the training droids to the ground with a satisfied laugh.

Also in typical ARC trooper fashion, Echo jumps onto the back of the other droid as though it's an angry rancor he's attempting to ride. And the droid bucks as any rancor would-- until Echo slams his scomp link into its neck, deactivating it all together.

Now it's reprogramming time. Tech runs to meet them, catching Wrecker's eager arm as it moves to punch the fallen droid again.

"Reprogramming this thing will be pointless if you crush it."

Wrecker seems disappointed, but he resists the urge to wreck. "You better be right about this."

Tech ignores the doubt and gets to work in the droid's circuit board. He works as quickly as possible, acutely aware that Hunter and Crosshair are undoubtedly being swarmed by this point.

"Hurry up," Wrecker warns. It is a statement more of worry for their brothers than a critique of Tech's programming speed. With a quick glance at his vambrace monitor, he slams the circuit board shut.

"Done. Let him go."

Wrecker and Echo back off just as the other droids launch a new attack at the site of their droid field surgery. They run for cover. Tech, on the other hand, situates himself on the shoulders of his new pet droid.

If Echo is the rancor rider, then he is the rancor tamer in this analogy.

The droid stands at its full height, nearly throwing Tech off on the way up, but he manages to press his thighs against its head to balance his weight. Shots from the other droids are whizzing past him in growing frequency. He is an easy target at this height and visibility. He needs to work quickly.

Taking control of the droid's weapons, he fires the live rounds back at the combatant droids. While their training blasters were useless against the thick durasteel plated training droids— as they were meant to be in a simulation— the live rounds actually do sufficient damage. He breezes past Echo and Wrecker's battle stations. Instructs his droid to punch the other droids that managed to get past his initial rain of fire. And as he weakens their defenses his brothers move in with vibroblades, perfectly placed stun shots, and raw strength.

A little bit of pride swells in his chest. The tides appear to be turning in their favor. If they can keep up this pace, their outcome will be favorable.

With his vantage point, Tech spots a droid sneaking up on Wrecker, who is otherwise occupied by beating another droid into submission.

"Wrecker, look alive," he warns. Wrecker lets out a sound of confusion before whirring around to find his next victim. It only takes an impressive suplex and Echo jabbing the droid in the neck for the danger to be adverted. But a new danger has begun to emerge.

Warning signs start flashing across Tech's vambrace screen. His rewriting job had to be hasty, which means he did not get the chance to secure every single circuit. His rush may prove to be their downfall as the connection flickers in and out. The droid sways beneath him and he fights to remain on its shoulders.

"I can't sustain the connection," he says through grit teeth. But with two more enemies stalking toward him he has no choice but to hope he can hold on through the end. His droid manages a weak strike against one of the attacking bots, and a few point blank shots in the face of the other. The connection suddenly re-establishes with full strength, and he grins with glee.

But his success is only temporary. His ride jolts backward as a droid from the upper tier manages to shoot right though its chest— right into the main circuitboard, Tech realizes with dismay. He can't do anything but watch as the droid gets hit a few more times and explodes beneath him. The surge of the blast sends Tech flying backward with much more force than would have been a problem had he simply fallen off the droid. His body hits the ground back-first, ripping the air from his lungs. And then he bounces. When he hits it again, the back of his head slams into the durasteel floor and his vision swims with black dots. Tech tries to blink through the cloudiness of his vision, barely aware of somebody yelling his name through the ringing in his ears.

Everything suddenly hurts. The back of his legs are hot and the smell of burnt plastoid is even more putrid than earlier. Considering how long the droid had been engaging in active battle, and the numerous shots straight to the power source... the heat of combustion had to have been fairly significant. Perhaps even sufficient enough to melt his armor, he realizes with a deep groan.

"Tech!" his name reaches him this time. A little clearer. Definitely Wrecker. He tries to lift his head but only succeeds in lobbing it to the side. But it's enough to see Wrecker crouched a few meters away. "Hold tight, buddy."

Tech can see the consistent shower of blaster shots still thick in the air. It is a full-on battlefield tucked within the confines of Kamino's training facility.

"I'm..." he starts to say, attempting to assure Wrecker that he's okay, but even the act of raising his arm and head is enough to send a jolt of pain down his back and limbs. His vision blurs again and he suddenly is whipped by exhaustion. His adrenaline has finally dropped off and it is pulling him down with it. Tech collapses back on to the ground, letting out a shaky sigh. "...not going anywhere."

He wants to help. But he runs the numbers in his head even as the aura of a migraine starts to dance before his eyes. With the number of droids and taking into account their individual firepower abilities paired with handicaps that come from limited programming and movement, Tech calculates that they have a 46% chance of success without his help.

They've won on lesser odds.

And when he takes into consideration the alternate scenario of him pushing through his current injuries and attempting to aid them in completing the simulation, their chance of success actually reduces to 41%. He knows his presence would distract the rest of his squad, or introduce a number of uncertain variables he is too tired to take into account at the moment.

Well, the math does not lie, he thinks, and lets his eyes flutter shut.

Wrecker watches Tech's body go limp and he seriously considers running at that last droid and tearing its head clean off with his bare hands. His youngest brother mutters something he can't really hear— whatever it is, his voice is pinched with pain. Not a good sign.

This needs to end now.

As though Crosshair was reading his mind, the sniper appears out of nowhere with his rifle at the ready. (Sometimes Wrecker wonders if he really can read minds. It wouldn't surprise him.)

"Wrecker, knife!" he yells. He has no idea what Cross is gonna do, but he unsheathes his knife and throws it in the air with a backspin. Crosshair shoots and strikes his knife mid-air, sending it blade first straight between the eyes of the last droid.

"Wow," he says in amazement.

There's a moment of quiet after the droid falls. Wrecker stands at his full height, still in awe that Cross managed to actually get that shot! He knows his brother's aim is impressive but wow— sometimes it's just next level.

Wrecker suddenly remembers Tech still lying next to the burnt leftovers of his pet droid. He and Echo rush to his side. Though Tech has pushed himself to a sitting position, Wrecker has enough experience with explosives and getting too close to them to notice how his brother refuses to let the back of his legs touch anything. On top of if, he saw the way his head bounced against the floor. Wrecker's no medic, but he knows a solid hit to the noggin when he sees one. Tech's usually sharp eyes are unfocused. The smears of carbon scoring across the lenses aren't helping, so he tries to wipe it away with his gloves. He only succeeds in making the smearing worse, but what worries him more is that his younger brother didn't react like he usually does when anyone tries to touch his goggles. Usually he jerks away, insists he can fix them himself. But now he's just... staring at nothing. It sends a spike of worry through Wrecker's large body.

As they attempt to pull him to his feet, he glances down at the state of Tech's armor. A shutter runs up his spine.

It's not good. He can't tell if the red that is dripping down Tech's boots and onto the floor is from his melted armor or blood... neither is a good sigh. And as soon as he and Echo get Tech to his feet, he immediately starts swaying to the side. Wrecker catches him under the arms, hearing a low hiss of pain and wondering if he should let him lie back again.

"Tech, are you okay?" Hunter asks as he and Crosshair make it to their position.

Tech's reply is very not-Tech like. A low groan. Not a single word. But he shifts his weight to his feet and gently pulls out of Wrecker's grasp to stand on his own.

"Techy you don't have to--"

"We're being watched," Crosshair interrupts. Wrecker looks up and realizes that Tarkin guy and Lama Su are still watching from the viewing gallery.

A part of him is glad they can't see the death stare on his face for shooting live rounds— live rounds!— at them.

Another part of him wants to give them a piece of his mind.

But as they disappear from sight, it becomes very obvious that Tech was only standing for their benefit. This time, his knees buckle and he falls forward. Hunter and Crosshair both lunge to catch him.

"He's out," Hunter says as they gently lower him to the ground. Now the overhead lights shine down on Tech's back and all of them freeze.

"Shit," Crosshair curses. The explosion melted his armor for sure. But what concerns them all is the mess of raw skin and melted blacks behind his knees and at his ankles. "Where the hell is medical?"

For some reason, when Tech awoke he expected to be staring at the ceiling of a med tent. It is a natural association to make in his newly conscious state. He suffered an injury due to an explosion, which is usually a scenario that is only possible in an active battlefield situation.

Hence, why seeing the sterile white ceiling of the Kamino ceiling sent him into a momentary panic. Did they cart me straight back to Kamino from the battlefield? Am I that injured? Does this mean I am being decommissioned?

He begins to try and sit up, but strong hands press down on his chest. It takes a few rounds of blinking to clear the tears that have welled up in his eyes. Echo and Crosshair stand on either side of his bed. Still in their armor. Both wide-eyed and looking quite exhausted as they attempt to calm him.

"Breathe, Tech," Echo says, demonstrating by drawing in his own large breath and slowly releasing it through his pursed lips. Tech imitates him until the tightness in his chest subsides. And he remembers.

A simulation. We were doing a training exercise. I was sitting atop the shoulders of a droid and... the droid combusted.

Right. Suddenly the numbness in his legs and the dull bite of a waning migraine make sense.

"Did we win at least?" Tech asks, looking between Crosshair and Echo.

"You don't remember?" The sniper asks carefully.

Tech remembers falling. A white hot pain. And then a lot of yelling and a lot of darkness.

"My current memory of the end of the exercise seems to be a bit... murky."

Echo and Crosshair exchange glances.

"We destroyed all the droids," Echo says finally.

"Wrecker was pleased about that part," the sniper mutters.

"So we won then. That's good." Both of them are silent for a long moment. Long enough that Tech replays their conversation up to that point wondering if he said something incorrect. From his point of view, there has been nothing that would offend either of them. So why they are acting so strange is beyond his understanding, unless they are withholding other context from while he was unconscious. "...isn't it?"

Finally Crosshair clears his throat. "None of us would consider you getting blown up a mission success, Tech."

"Well, technically, I didn't blow up, the droid—"

"Technically, nothing," Crosshair snaps at him. Echo glares at the sniper but doesn't exactly try to correct his outburst. "Either way, you got hurt."

Oh. So they are worried about his condition. For the first time since he's woken up, Tech cranes his head to look down at himself. He's in a thin, medical gown. No wonder he was feeling a bit of a draft. His bare legs are completely wrapped in thick bacta strips. That explains the numbness as well.

"How... bad?"

"Not as bad as it looks," Echo admits. "Mostly second-degree burns on your legs with a few small spots of third degree burns. No concussion and no grafts needed. Doc said after this round of bacta they'll rewrap and we can take you back to the barracks. It'll just feel like you have a bad sunburn for a few days."

That's good news at least. He does feel much better. Not in terrible pain like before, though Tech suspects the IV in his arm might have something to do with that.

"You passed out after the simulation," Crosshair says with a haunted stare.

"From the pain, I assume?"

"Also from the adrenaline dump." Echo shrugs. "We all came out of that with shaky legs."

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair mutters but Echo ignores him.

"None of us expected to fight for our lives today."

All of them can agree on that. Speaking of fighting for their lives, Tech realizes it's just the three of them. He looks to the beds at his left and right and find that they're empty. The memory of watching Wrecker's body crumble after getting shot flashes through Tech's mind and he tries to sit up again. This time Crosshair presses his hand against his back and helps him up.

"Where's Wrecker and Hunter? Are they alright?"

"Wrecker also had a burn on his chest, but they discharged him already. Hunter is with him," Echo smiles. "I think Wrecker said something about being hungry."

"Well, we didn't get much of a meal before this," Crosshair says bitterly.

Tech finally relaxes back into the pillow. His brothers are all safe, he's going to be discharged soon, and they completed their training exercise. It's a much better outcome than he expected from waking up in the med wing.

After his bacta is changed, Echo helps him into a fresh pair of blacks while Crosshair grabs his armor. The shirt is no problem, but the tight-fitting pants prove to be a more difficult feat.

"Maybe we can go get you a looser pair," Echo suggests as Tech has to literally bite down on his own lip to distract himself from the discomfort. Even with the barrier of bandages, the thick material feels scratchy against his sensitive skin. So bad that shivers run up his spine and he begins to feel a little nauseous.

"No," Tech pushes Echo's hand away. Honestly, the very thought of the pants having to peel back down his leg is worse than the idea of keeping them on. "I'll adjust." Echo seems hesitant but he doesn't fight him further. Tech gets his armor on-- sans the pieces that were melted in the explosion, of course. Those will require a trip to the armory to replace. (But he is not exactly jumping at the idea of restraining his swollen legs right now, anyway.)

"Ready?" Crosshair asks, though his facial expression looks as though he won't believe a word that comes out of Tech's mouth no matter what.

"Indeed."

They walk slowly back to the barracks, taking the long route to pick up Hunter and Wrecker from the caf. For the first few corridors, the scratchy feeling is agonizing. He has to walk with stiff legs to avoid bending his knees too much. It earns him his fair share of strange looks from the regs that pass, though they usually look at him like he was some sort of abomination, so it doesn't bother him. (Tech hypothesizes it has something to do with his goggles and how they stick out of his helmet. Makes him look quite different from even his own squad.)

But as they reach the caf, the stinging has begun to fade. His body is adjusting, as he predicted. The pain receptors in his legs are finally recognizing that it isn't a stimulus worth the trouble to continue griping about. He manages to bend his knees just enough that his stiffness isn't so obvious, more of a limp.

Wrecker's joyful tone rings out as soon as they grow near to the cafeteria. The largest of their brothers appears around the corner, his face brightening as he breaks into a run. "Tech!" Echo and Crosshair are quick to jump in and stop him from body slamming Tech.

"Easy, Wrecker, you know better than any of us how it feels to get blown up," Crosshair says before stepping aside for Wrecker to pull Tech into a bear hug. He sees Cross glance at Echo and then smirk. "Well, maybe that's not true. Echo here might have us all beat."

The former ARC trooper rolls his eyes. "Very funny."

Wrecker releases Tech. Somehow without aggravating his burns too badly. He is glad he opted to wear his helmet instead of carrying it. The mask hides his wince as pain shoots up his legs when Wrecker drops him back on the floor.  "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"As am I," he replies sheepishly. They start to make their way back toward their barracks. "Though I hardly blew up, it was merely a droid overheating."

"Did it have smoke and fire?" Wrecker asks.

"Minimal, but yes."

"Did it make a boom sound?"

"Well I'm not sure I would classify--"

"And did you get thrown really hard and burn your butt off?"

Tech sighs. "Perhaps."

Wrecker shrugs with a smug grin, looking around at the others. "You may be the expert on most things, Tech, but I know explosions. And that sounds a lot like an explosion to me."

Crosshair chuckles, his face in its usual sneer as he pats Tech's shoulder pauldron.

"It's alright," Echo whispers to him as Wrecker starts a loud tangent about getting shot at. "Means you get to be a part of the Got Blown Up Club. Meetings are bimonthly."

Not exactly a club Tech expected to be joining at a battle simulation. But then again, when do things ever go right for their squad in normal circumstances? He is curious to see what justification they had for such an irresponsible stunt. Tech has a sinking feeling Tarkin and Echo's claim that he hates clones has something to do with it.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: Apocalypse ch 3

As promised, please comment/like/reblog, anything

rebel4fandom

-

You begrudgingly left the warmth of your apartment. Thinking of Tony, and his friends that you had known, you knew you were able to do more than just huddle in the warmth of your living space.

The next several hours passed with you stomping through the halls, pounding on doors and seeing if anyone was still inside your building. To your relief, it was empty.

So, bracing against the bitter winds, you stepped outside and into the street, making your way to the next building over. Thus, you continued the process. Eventually, you found a small family, hunkered down in their family room. You pleaded for them to go to one of the shelters and with much persuasion and assurance that Tony Stark thought it was the right thing to do. The Avengers all supported it, after all, you convinced them to bundle up and follow you to brace the cold.

The trek to the shelter was long and arduous. You helped keep the weaker members of the family upright, blocking them from the buffeting wind that whipped through the city streets among the skyscrapers. Abandoned cars lined the streets, some with doors left open and snow piling up inside.

It seemed the snow had stopped today, but the wind still whipped up the snow into flurries, creating near white out conditions. You had your face bundled and had managed to scavenge ski goggles but the people you led were not nearly as lucky, you knew some of them were following you blindly. Some of them were stumbling over garbage, fire hydrants, city decorations, and objects you prayed were not dead bodies.

When at last you finally reached the shelter, the people running the shelter thanked you with a warm drink. They were grateful for more living people, but you knew it was filled to capacity and more mouths to feed meant less supplies for everyone else.

The number of living residents you found each day was quickly dwindling, it was only a week in.

Today as you sat inside the shelter, warming up from your trek, you saw another rescuer leading victims in. The Black Widow herself.

“I’m used to Russian winters but damn.” She said stamping her feet in the entrance to the area, her teeth rattling. “Alright it’s been years, but still.” She was shouting over the howl of the wind.

They ushered her inside, closer to where you were sitting with your mug of hot water.

“Hey, aren’t you Stark’s, uh?”

“Cousin or something, yea.” You nodded, telling her your name and holding your hand out to introduce yourself.

“I remember seeing you around the tower and the compound occasionally.” Natasha nodded, “Nice to see a familiar face.” She smiled at you, lowering her scarf and raising her goggles. “Feel like I’m going to have to crawl into a dead tauntaun out there or something.”

“Star Wars?” You laughed.

She shrugged with a grin. “Hey, anything to stay warm. I don’t really see much of anyone these days, we’re spread out so much trying to see how many people we can save around the world while we have the big guns figuring out what’s causing this.”

“Dr. Strange?”

“Yea, without his infinity stone, he’s a lot weaker.”

You nodded, “Shame about that.”

“I’m not complaining too much.” Nat chuckled weakly.

“Fair point.”

Natasha stretched her arms, “Even this bitter cold reminds me I’m alive.”

“We’re all glad you are.”

“There’s quite a few people that are alive again after that blip that we thought would stay dead.” Natasha said thoughtfully.

You nodded, “Yea, it’s weird how some of our biggest enemies became our friends too. Like what’s his name, Peter Quill? He was enemies with that Nebula girl, and then she became their closest ally, and Gamora vanished but, actually I’m not sure how that worked.”

Natasha shook her head, “Yea, you’d have to ask them.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Although, when Thor said his brother sacrificed himself to stop the initial invasion of Thanos?”

You smiled, “I remember him being here for a bit, right?”

Natasha paused then slowly drew out the word, “Yes… He was, wasn’t he?”

“He came here to recover, Asgard didn’t want him, but they gave the Avengers the means to heal him.”

“Just the initial healing, once he could stand, he went back to Asgard. Right?”

“Yea, I talked with him a bit. He really wasn’t what people made him out to be.”

Natasha raised her eyebrow. “Tell that to Clint.”

“I’m not saying Clint shouldn’t hate him, I’m just saying, Loki well, he doesn’t have a silver spoon up his ass like I thought he did.”

Nat quirked her head.

“Some master spy, you think you’d interrogate him and get more out of him. Honestly you seemed to only get what you wanted out of him when you interrogated him.”

“Oh he definitely got in your head, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing!” You held up your hands, “I’m all me. I just, it seems kinda convenient that he talked only about the Hulk and the one thing he gets you to think about is the Hulk. Hardly seems like a stretch that you would draw a conclusion that his plan was about the Hulk.”

Natasha frowned and furrowed her brow, “Are you saying we shouldn’t have trusted Loki and not let them take him back to Asgard and should have kept him weak and in chains?”

You scrambled upright from your relaxed position. “No, no, no! I just, I kept thinking about the interrogation tapes and it seemed really bad spy work.”

Natasha huffed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“I’m going to go look for others, maybe my shoddy work will help elsewhere.” Natasha set down her warm drink and she stalked off.

One of the nearby workers looked at you and shook their head. “Smooth.”

You scowled at them. Downing the last of your drink that it almost scalded your throat, you slammed it on the table and walked out after Natasha, sure to walk in another direction.

-

When the sun started to get lower in the sky, you hurried back to your apartment. There was no chance of risking being out at night. Any exposure in the dark would be instant hypothermia. Being alone at night was instant death. Thankfully it was still July so the days were longer, and you had more time to get back to your home, but you did not risk any amount of time in the dark.

Getting back to your home you settled back into bed, trying to thaw out and shiver yourself back to life. The heat croaked to life and you looked at the supplies you had collected to sustain yourself. It wasn’t much, but it would keep you going.

Swallowing hard, you turned on the TV and waited to see what news might bring.

A man was being interviewed, some sort of wild animal attack. No. Something else. You recognized Falcon on TV, the new Captain America. He was trying to talk to a survivor in a med unit. The survivor was near catatonic, covered in frost bite and mumbling in horror.

“Get the camera away from him, he’s not gonna talk if you keep shoving that thing in his face.” Sam grumbled.

The camera pulled away but the mic stayed close to Sam.

“Listen, just tell me what happened. Please, this isn’t the first attack, but you’re our first survivor. We need to know what’s happening. You’re ok, I’m Captain America, Falcon, call me Sam, whatever you want, I’m here and I’ll protect you.” Sam bent down and took their bandaged hand in his.

The man stared at Sam blankly, eyes staring into the distance, “They-they,” He stammered, “it… them… those things… they killed my whole family.”

Sam nodded, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please, anything you remember, what they look like, sound like, anything.”

The man whispered, “Monsters.”

A roar of protests exploded as the press filling the room rushed forward trying to press microphones at Sam and the victim.

You could see the look of exasperation in Sam’s eyes at the press as the victim succumbed to exhaustion, or pain, though you were thankful the heart monitor showed him alive.

Abruptly a gold sparkling circle appeared in the room and the media jumped back in fright. A man you recognized as Dr. Strange stepped out.

“I’m a doctor.” Strange announced. “I’ll be taking over this case.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Everyone out.” Strange dragged out the ‘e’ in everyone.

And then the camera was in a hospital lobby. And you realized you were on your knees in bed, leaning towards the TV trying to know what had just happened, completely bewildered and about a hundred times more frightened.

More than just the cold was killing people?

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 4

Okay, it’s been a hot minute since I was able to get to watching this episode, but here we go!

Great intro. Remember last time how Lan Wangji got to pick Wei Wuxian’s punishment? Well, it seems that Wei Wuxian was up late into the night working on transcribing and, surprise! he’s not done. And unless I’m mistaken, he’s actually spent days doing this, because when they first arrived, the salute ceremony was ten days away, and here we see Wei Wuxian is almost late for it. So by this point, I’d expect Wei Wuxian to have some serious hand cramps from all that calligraphy.

While I enjoy this comical moment and introduction to Nie Huaisang, I have to wonder why he thought bringing a bird into the salute ceremony was a good idea. Birds make noise—they tweet, flap their wings, try to escape cages! Anyway, it’s a goofy moment, but we got some cute expressions out of Xiao Zhan and some disdainful looks from Wang Yibo, so I can’t complain.

Xiao Zhan does a really good job of looking very young here at the beginning: his mannerisms, his facial expressions, how he carries himself, all really creates this feeling of being young and carefree. On the other side, Wang Yibo (who is six years younger than Xiao Zhan) does an equally good job of portraying someone more severe, mature, elitist. Lan Wangji has a reputation for being above people—for creating an aura that implies other people aren’t worth his time. In fact, he doesn’t even have any friends, as we found out in the last episode.

Wangxian really suit each other, even before they know each other at all: Wei Wuxian has this light, carefree nature to his character, while Lan Wangji’s is darker, more austere.

First of all, those fuckers. Gossiping about his lineage in full earshot of not only Jin Guangyao but also Jin Zixuan. This poor guy has practically clawed his way up to where he is, only to be an attendant to a clan that he has no blood relation to. His own father refuses to acknowledge him, his mother is gone, and these jerks gossiping—ugh! Hate it, regardless of who he grows to be later on in the series.

I really love Jin Guangyao and seeing how he changes from beginning to end is honestly a delight to watch. Like most of the characters, he seems so pure, so simple, such a kind person, and his relationship with Lan Xichen is something that you can’t devote enough time to. I think it gets shortchanged a little, but they only had 50 episodes, so I’ll take what I can get. Even in the book, I was left wanting to know more and see more about them (but I wouldn’t trade my wangxian content for that, so I guess I shouldn’t complain).

Last thing I want to say is, DIMPLES! Look at those adorable dimples!!

This is so insane—he literally set this guy on fire! How can he get away with this?! Anyway, enter Draco Malfoy—I mean, Wen Chao. Ahem. This series wants to throw a lot of villains at you right away: we already have Wen Ruohan, Xue Yang, potentially Wen Qing (we don’t know at this point), and now we have Wen Chao. They’re really pushing the Wen Clan is bad agenda. And as if being generally rude and probably mentally unstable isn’t bad enough, Wen Chao literally sets fire to one of the Gusu Lan Clan disciples, while the other disciple basically does nothing about it (why is that guy so useless? Doesn’t he have some spiritual energy to throw at that magic fire?).

Wen Chao is one of those characters that I think most people love to hate. He’s so evil, so horrible, yet charming, in a way. He is a villain and he’s proud of it, y’know? There’s no ambiguity here about his actions, which is kind of refreshing in a series filled with grey characters (and I love grey characters, don’t get me wrong).

Oh! And I just noticed while I was saving that screenshot that Wen Ning can’t even look at what’s going on. Very accurate to his character—non-confrontational, just wants to float along and do as he’s told. Really shows he’s under the thumb of the Wen Clan. I also like how Wen Qing is the one to put out the flames. You get to see that healer side of her early on.

Jiang Cheng and I had the same expression here—I really wanted to know what their gift to Lan Qiren was. If this is something in the book, well, then I’ve forgotten. Wei Wuxian and I have that trait in common: bad memory.

LWJ: Bro, can I hit him?

LXH: Nah, bro.

I missed this on my first viewing—or just forgot, most likely. Lan Wangji is so poised and collected, but also so defensive. He’s the brother who will be the first to go on the offensive if he sees something wrong happening, which I love. But I also love Lan Xichen’s chill attitude—yes, this guy is clearly a troublemaker, and he’s dissing our clan, but let’s settle this in an adult manner. According to the wiki, Lan Xichen is only a few years older than Lan Wangji, but you can see that he is a lot more mature in just those few years. Like I said in the last episode, he kind of had to be a parent to his younger brother and set an example of how you should behave. Of course, he’s also the clan leader, so he can’t really act like a spitfire.

Of course, if anyone is more defensive than Lan Wangji, it’s Wei Wuxian. Even though Lan Wangji has been a bit of a pain in the ass to him, Wei Wuxian still rushes to their defense. Even this early on, he’s started to form an attachment to the Gusu Lan Clan, whether he’s really aware of it or not. I’m wearing my wangxian goggles, but the “you offended the Jiang Clan because my brother was in the middle of his salute” kind of feels like an afterthought.

But of course it’s in Wei Wuxian’s character to be heroic like this—to rush to the defense of others, whether it’s asked for or not, and I don’t get the feeling that Lan Wangji disapproves of this. I think he takes note of this and future events, adding it to what he’s compiled of what makes Wei Wuxian tick. And by this time, I think he’s also decided to give Wei Wuxian another chance—Lan Xichen has planted the seed in his mind that he could be a good friend to Lan Wangji.

I know he’s not supposed to be gay.

I know.

But…come on. The way he’s looking at Lan Xichen right now—it’s a look certainly of deep admiration and respect. And there’s not a hint of jealously either, even though Jin Guangyao has every reason to be jealous of Lan Xichen: the respect he commands is great—he can even subdue the Wen Clan. But instead of hating Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao instead becomes close friends with him, very much a parallel to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. Fascinating! These characters are so rich—so many layers, so much to talk about!

The first time I watched this, I was so annoyed with Nie Huaisang—any additional scenes that were added just drove me crazy. But now, having watched it all, I actually really appreciate these moments of comic relief, even the ones that are unique to CQL. As the series progresses, it gets darker and darker, and these lighter moments are honestly precious when you know what’s coming.

Someone explain to me why Jiang Yanli is making soup when meals are being provided to them? Yes, we know she takes care of her brothers, but why is it always her making soup? This is the first of many soup scenes, and at a certain point, it’s like beating a dead horse. I actually would have appreciated a little scene of them eating Gusu Lan Clan food and getting to see Wei Wuxian complain about it. I wouldn’t mind a disapproving look from Lan Wangji at overhearing it either.

Yeah, remember when I was saying Lan Wangji was taking note of the good things Wei Wuxian did? Well, he’s also very aware of how naughty he is. At the beginning, Wei Wuxian’s good traits are heavily outweighed by his transgressions, though, by comparison, they are minor ones. It’s ironic that later on Lan Wangji will overlook major transgressions without a second thought. Shows what a deep relationship they are able to cultivate.

I feel like, in a way, this is Wei Wuxian’s way of apologizing for offending him earlier—like, I’m being cute, Lan Zhan! Obviously it only makes Lan Wangji more annoyed, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Wei Wuxian is really testing boundaries here. He has such a fixation on Lan Wangji, one that definitely annoys Jiang Cheng (and makes him jealous to boot, in my opinion), but it works to his advantage, since Lan Wangji can’t really keep his eyes off of Wei Wuxian either. And the circumstances that follow just keep drawing them together.

After Wei Ying gets told to leave the lecture and go to the Library Pavilion, he doesn’t look at anyone except Lan Wangji. I wonder if he wants to know Lan Wangji’s reaction—is it disappointment, anger, something else? Whatever it is, he wants Lan Wangji’s attention—that’s what he seeks above anything else. You could argue that he doesn’t look at Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli because he knows they’re disappointed or upset with him, and I think that’s fair. And maybe he doesn’t seek their attention because he knows he has it—but he doesn’t feel like he’s gotten Lan Wangji’s attention here and that bothers him.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 |

[gwyns]

I noticed that when Elriels spout their embarrassing theories they always come up blank in terms of who the next book will be about and what it’s plot will be? We all know Azriel and Lucien are getting the last two books. But if El ended up with Az, who’d be Lucien’s li? Vassa? This is where they always end up drawing a blank. ALWAYS. Vassa is most likely going to be re-enslaved and back at the lake and so Lucien tries to figure out a way to break her curse and kill koschbosh whatever his name is. Come on! The two of them would be separated for the majority of the book?? Hello?? I also don’t see how an Elriel book could connect a vassalucien book. If that makes any sense? There’s nothing that’d connect vassalucien to the og characters/plot.

Meanwhile. Gwynriel n Elucien just makes SO. MUCH. SENSE? Like you don’t even have to ship them to not see it? Not just relashionship wise but plot wise ESPECIALLY? Gwynriel will most likely deal with Illyrians and the fallout of the Valkyries completing the rite while also trying to deal with Beron, prevent him from striking a deal with Koshbosh or whatever. Both Elain and Lucien are tied to Koshbosh, so in the final book, Elucien deals with Koshbosh. Elain with her seer powers might find a way to kill Koshbosh seeing as how she’s already had visions of him, and Lucien with his c3po eyeball and spell cleaving abilities might find a way to break Vassa’s curse and free her. Not to mention it’s been foreshadowed so many times in acowar that Elain and Vassa will become friends? See how it all just clicks into place perfectly?

Is this why Elriels desperately try to come up with all these absurd dusk court theories, because Elriel as a couple have absolutely nothing to contribute to the plot? Is this why ever since ElainVassa started rising they started calling her and the twins “iconic” and started comparing + putting the “iconic trio” in the same sentence as the Valkyrie trio when we’ve seen literally ZERO interactions between them? Haha omg that’s kinda sad ngl. But more than that-

I’m embarrassed for them 😫

you've put all of my thoughts into one ask so nicely, anon! this is what i've been saying. elain has absolutely no connection to what is likely going to be the plot of az's book. why would she care about illyria? she has nothing to do with it meanwhile gwyn does. how would vassa break her own curse? it was literally said in acosf that she has to return to koschei soon, even having koschei say, "tell my vassa, i'm waiting for her" or whatever.

e/riel currently cannot connect to a v/ucien plot i'm sorry. now, maybe sarah will change things in acotar 5 but... it's unlikely? she'd literally have to rewrite everything she set up in acosf and that sounds like a whole ass pain 😭

i don't like to shit on anyone's ships bc hello..... i'm literally out here shipping things that will never happen but if you take off your shipper's goggles and look at where the plot of the spinoffs is headed, gwynriel and elucien just make the most sense. if not, why did sarah build gwyn up so much? she's not going to use a sa survivor as a plot device and i'm still disgusted that any of you suggested that. why make her azriel's equal? why include the infamous "you're the new ribbon, az" line? bc idc what anyone says, that doesn't hint at a platonic relationship. why did she remind us again that elain doesn't belong in the night court? and that lucien and vassa are just friends? why not have elain reject the bond if she and az are soooo in wuv uwu? why have lucien still looking at her with longing if she wants to set up a different relationship for him?

i've said it a million times but without elain, lucien has absolutely no potential romances. and with how much stuff there is left unresolved with him, it's almost guaranteed he's getting a pov so if not elain.... who? it's literally a process of elimination and you're only left with elain.

don't even get me started on the elain ruling the dusk court theories 🙄 it's literally as if they want to stunt any growth elain could have just to tie her to a man and yet we're the misogynistic ones. ok!

if anyone's going to revive and rule the dusk court it's going to be nesta. not miss "what do you need?" "sunshine" elain archeron.

god the whole "elain, nuala and cerridwen are an iconic trio" is so cringey. they're acquaintances at best. you cannot begin to compare them to the valkyries or feyre, mor and amren who are literally each other's chosen sisters meanwhile the twins were assigned to look after elain lmfao

anyway elain and vassa and briar pls sjm are superior! they just can't handle how badass they'll be when they finally meet.

[oneoftheextras]

In My Way

Aizawa x Hero!Reader

masterlist  | tip jar

Prompt: #25 “Were you trying to destroy us?”

Warnings: Violence, one swear and a lil bit o’ blood

An explosion narrowly missed your head as you ducked down behind a destroyed car. Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, you took a moment to get your breath back.

The two villains that had attempted to rob a bank were starting to be a problem for you, this was the issue when you had decided to work alone. Your quirk was pretty powerful, but it was clear that these two were good at working together, you weren’t sure if you were going to win this one.

You glanced down at your bloodied leg, one of them had managed to get a pretty good hit on you and you knew you were going to be paying for it in the morning. Which was in a few hours.

“Awww are you hiding from us now?” one of the villains mocked you, you could hear their foot steps getting closer to where you were hiding.

Getting up on to your feet you hoisted yourself up onto the roof of the car, quickly noticing how close one of the villains was to you. Launching yourself off of the roof and into the air, you landed on top him, having your legs wrap around his head and send him hurdling to the ground.

Hearing the thud of his body hitting the ground, you used the motion to flip yourself off of him and shakily get back onto your feet with your fists up ready to fight. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Slightly lowering your fists you scanned the street around you, trying to find where he could have gone, the villain you had attacked was groaning on the ground, soon he would be back on his feet again.

Hearing struggling above your head, you glanced upwards seeing the villain dangling upside down from the roof.

“What are you doing here?” you heard a tired voice above you, following the grey scarf trailing from the criminal and up to the rooftop. “Eraser, good to see you” you smiled teasingly, lowering your fist.

“I ask again” he mumbled, wrapping the villain up in his scarf with a flick of his wrist. Eraserhead dropped from his perch on the roof and delicately landed on to the street, never letting go of his hold on the criminal “What are you doing here?” he continued.

“Oh you know” you smiled, twiddling your thumbs, “My job” you laughed, gesturing to the villains around you. The one on the ground started to get to his feet, having seen his friend all tied up, you shifted your stance ready to fight, turning your back on the other Pro Hero.

The villain took a swing at you but you managed to dodge it, and land a hit on his chest making him stumble back onto his ass. “You’re just getting in my way” Eraser grumbled, handcuffing the villain he had apprehended and returning his scarf to his neck, “If anything, you’re getting in my way” you teased back.

This was the issue of working the night shifts, there was too little crime and too many heroes around to stop it - this wasn’t the first time you and Eraserhead were treading on each other’s toes, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Often it would turn into a contest to see who could be the one to actually apprehend the villains.

“Oh please, I-” Eraser started, you watched his eyes go wide and quickly he jumped towards you “Look out!” he shouted, pushing you down behind another destroyed car - an explosion went off right where you were standing only moments prior.

Feeling the hard stone scrape against your bare elbows made you wince but you were thankful that he’d managed to get you out of the way in time. The way the two of you had landed was less than professional - luckily you had landed on your back but Eraser was on top of you, facing you, but it was as though he hadn’t even noticed. 

His stance over you was protective, one large had was wrapped around the back of your head, stopping it from colliding with the hard ground; and the other was around your back, holding you against him.

His strained eyes were peering through the broken window of the car, trying to spot your attacker, you doubt it had even crossed his mind. Eventually he glanced down at your blushing face and you watched the realisation hit him, “Were you trying to destroy us?” he scorned you, but didn’t let you go.

Eyes boring into you and at such a proximity had you stumbling over your words, “I-uh I-” you struggled, “Why didn’t you erase his quirk?” you finally shot out. “What wasn’t a quirk, that was an actual grenade” he sighed, shifting his body.

“People still use those?” you laughed in disbelief. You pulled your legs up slightly from underneath him, and he slowly got off of you and allowed you to get to your feet - but staying couched behind the car.

Even though there was no immediate attack from the villain, Eraserhead paced one hand either side of your body and against the car protectively; his natural size allowed him to shield most of your body with his own.

This sort of behaviour from him was weird, almost every night for the last 4 months you would encounter each other, but never this close. It was normally just taunting and annoying each other from afar.

His hand quickly moved from the car to your shoulder as he pulled your body backwards as his back fell against the ground, only seconds after another explosion went off, ripping the hood of the car you were hiding behind apart.

Now your back was against his chest, but it wouldn’t last long. From this position, you could see where the villain was - he was also hiding behind a car but his was turned upside down. His bag of grenades resting on the car’s belly.

“Screw this” you groaned, peeling Eraserhead’s arms off of you and racing to your feet and towards the villain. “Don’t!” Eraser shouted, you felt the fabric of his capture weapon start wrap around your wrist but a quick tug snatched it away and out of his reach.

The villain’s eyes widened as he poked his head up to grab another grenade seeing you speeding towards him, you watched his hand reach for another explosive but you were faster. You dived over the car, feet first, kicking him to the ground. He was expecting your attack and quickly scrambled to his feet, pulling a knife out of his pocket.

You eyed the blade, shooting your leg out and landing a firm kick on his stomach, he bent over in pain and you took the opportunity to slam your elbow on the back of his head. 

Somehow he dodged you, grabbing your leg and pulling you to the ground. All of a sudden he was on top of you, knife aimed against your cheek “You piece of shit heroes, always thinking you’re better than us” he spat at you, pressing the knife into your skin and drawing blood.

You closed your eyes and screamed as the pain started to heat up your cheek, but almost as quickly as it had came, it was gone. At the sudden release of pressure you opened your eyes, the villain was face down on the concrete unconscious - Eraserhead stood above him fist outstretched and chest heaving.

Eraser looked angry, his hair was floating as a thick black mass above his head, his goggles had fallen back around his neck to display his red glowing eyes. He bared his teeth at the villain which just made him seem even more threatening.

Straightening himself up and putting his arm down “You okay?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the criminal. You sat up, bringing your hand up to your cheek and seeing the blood painting your fingertips, “I’ll live” you said flatly.

Almost as soon as you were up on your feet again you felt fabric curl around your waist and drag you forward, the impact of Eraser’s chest against yours knocked the wind out of you for a second.

His hair flopped down again and his eyes returned to their normal grey colouring, he was much calmer now. “I guess I do get in your way” you laughed, trying to break the not-so-uncomfortable silence. He chuckled slightly, you felt the vibrations from his warm chest.

His thumb grazed your now stinging wound and you winced slightly but watched him as he inspected your face, “At least we match now” he grinned at you. 

It seemed you had made more than just an ally that night.