#hopefully I can get this stupid CO chapter out before I die and people stop asking me if it will continue

[bamsara]

I've been awake since 4pm Yesterday and if I go another 2 hours then it's a full 24 hours and if I go another 6 hours after that then I can go to sleep and finally have a fixed sleep schedule. Wish me luck fellas. I'm dying

[julesthequirky]

Falling For The Sheriff

Summary:  Your car breaks down just outside a small southern town, and the first person to your ‘rescue’ is no one other than the Sheriff of the town, Dean Winchester. 

Chapter One

Damn, all you could get on the radio was country. Country, country and more country. You slapped your hand on the dial, turning it off. You turned up your air con. Christ was it hot in this backwater hick town.

That was the moment your car decided to splutter and choke.

“Oh no. Please, not now. Not now.”

Your car died and you groaned. Trust you to be stuck in the middle of some outback tiny town.

“Shit.”

Your hands smacked your wheel and you swung the car door wide enough for it to break off from the hinges. You stepped out into the sweltering heat.

Christ. You felt your forehead bead with sweat. You checked your phone. Ugh it wasn’t even three. You went to lift the top of your car, but your fingers burned on the black metal. You cried out in pain, snatching your hands, curling them to your body.

You kicked your car.

“Stupid piece of shi-”

“Help you, ma’am?”

You jumped and whirled around in the middle of a paddy, now looking like a deer in headlights.

The man standing before you stood in front of a black ‘69 Chevy Impala. He wore a stark white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. His outfit complete with bolo tie, tan cowboy boots and a Stetson.

He was a young good-looking man.

“My car just quit on me.”

“I’ll have Bobby take a look at it.”

His voice was deep with that distinctive southern drawl.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“My accent give it away?”

“All right, little miss, no need for the sarcasm. Or I’ll have you for sass talking the Sheriff.”

He was the Sheriff?!!!

SHIT!!

“Are you really the Sheriff?” You went around to the back of your car and popped the trunk. You pulled out your suitcase, the weight almost pulling you down with it.

You looked at the man and he had his badge out. Ah shit.

“That real enough for ya?”

You nodded.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the inn, Jodie loves new faces.”

You pulled your suitcase not five steps and the handle broke.

“You kidding me?! Stupid shit!”

You went to kick it, but the Sheriff got there before you, picking up the case.

“Woah, woah now. Don’t want any injuries before you get rested. Plus, I’m the one that’s gotta write it up.”

“I got a case of the bad luck.”

“Well, now that last case of bad luck bought you here, to Creedence Creek, Texas.”

He stepped forward and grabbed the handle attached to your case and picked it up, carrying it with ease to his car. He popped the trunk, then placed it inside.

“C’mon on, you don’t wanna die of thirst out here do ya?”

You shook your head.

“No, sir.”

He went around to the passenger side door and opened it for you.

“Is being chivalrous, necessary?” You asked getting in.

“No, but it’s how many of us are raised. It’s a way of life.”

Oh. Now you felt like an ass and felt you had insulted him. He closed the passenger side door and made his way to the driver’s side. He slid in and pulled his phone out, making a call.

“Bobby! Hey, how ya doin’?”

You couldn’t hear the other side.

“I’m good, n’aw Bobs, I can’t tonight, got a ton of work waitin’ me for me back at the office. Raincheck on them drinks, alright. Alright. Listen, I got a car, just a little way’s out of town. Black, small, city car y’know the kind. Massachusetts plate, number beginning 429, yeah, you’ll know when ya see it. Great. Awesome. Thanks, I owe you one, Bobby.”

He hung up and started the engine, then drove off.

“I didn’t get your name back there, Miss.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

He gave a small laugh.

“Alright, formally I’m known as Sheriff Winchester, but everybody in town knows me as Dean.”

Sheriff Dean Winchester. It had a nice ring to it.

“What about you?”

“Y/N. Not Sheriff, from Boston.”

“Ah a city gal. The locals are gunna love you.”

You snorted. That was an understatement, if you ever knew one. In the backwater town that was Creedence Creek, they would have a whale of a time telling you that your wat wasn’t the way things go around here. And you knew it. Southerners didn’t really mix with northern city goers. Or city goers in general.

“Will my car be okay?”

“It’ll be fine, ain’t nobody gonna take it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It had crossed your mind and you definitely didn’t feel safe leaving it behind.

“If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll have Bobby give you a call, I’m sure your number is tied to the plate. May I ask what you were doin’ down here? I mean to say, we don’t get a lot of city goers, that is.”

You had been looking at the scenery on the way into town.

“I had to bail out my mom.”

You didn’t want to say any more than that. Telling him a tiny snippet of the truth was more than enough.

“So, you grew up in Texas?”

You nodded. It would be best not to divulge any more family trauma. Not right now. The quicker you got home, the quicker you could forget ever coming down here.

“Alright, not much of a talker, I see. Well, we’ll be arriving shortly.”

He didn’t say anything more, to which you were grateful.

He slowed as he turned a corner. It was like the town had appeared out of nowhere. A blink and you’d miss it, kind of thing. Shops lined the main parade, with roads and paths leading away. He turned another corner and another, then entered a lot and parked in front of the sign which read Sheriff. Up ahead was the police station.

“I won’t be long. I just gotta send Bobby the number.”

You nodded.

“You can get out and stretch your legs if you like.”

You opened the door, taking him up on his offer. Opening the door had been a mistake. It was hotter than hell.

“If you come in, I can get you some water.”

You nodded.

“Thanks.”

You followed him in.

His co-workers turned as he walked in, then noticed you. You hoped to God they wouldn’t ‘recognise’ you. It wasn’t like your rap sheet was a mile long, it contained mainly a few misdemeanours, to which you had paid your fines and done the community service that was asked, but the biggie was when you had been caught with a tiny baggie which turned out to be cocaine.

You had thought your own mother would have bailed you out. No. Instead she left you to suffer the consequences she should have had. It had almost cost you your career and the ability to move out of state, but through a stroke of luck they believed in second chances and took you on.

“What did we tell you about picking up pretty strays, boss?”

“Working whilst you’re working, Winchester?”

You gave the Sheriff an odd look. Was it normal for him to pick up potential dates whilst out on patrol?

“Can it. Get her a drink of water from the cooler. She’s dyin’ of thirst,” He turned to you and gestured for you to follow. “This way.”

He walked through the tiny precinct to a little office in the corner.

“It ain’t much but it’s mine.”

You sat, waiting for him to transfer the necessary information to Bobby.

“You like it here?”

He looked up from his computer at you.

“I’m very happy here.”

He turned his attention back to his screen and whistled. Crap.

“Oofta, jaywalking, possession of marijuana, drunk and disorderly, and possession of cocaine.”

“Jesus, look, I served my time and the misdemeanours are about to come off my record anyway.”

“That felony will be on there for some time, little lady.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You could thank your mom for that.

“Whatever just send him my number and plate info. The quicker my car is fixed, the quicker I can leave this shitpot town.”

You stood up and walked out, ignoring the officer who had water in a plastic cup for you.

“I hate small towns.”

You felt too close to home. Too close for your liking. Sure, Texas was big but adding a few more states in between was preferable.  

Now outside, you looked to the trunk of the Impala. Later, right now you needed space. He already had the wrong idea about you and didn’t need him sticking his oar in where it didn’t belong. You had no idea what this Jodie person looked like, nor where the inn was. With the sun beating on you hard, you made a temporary shade with your hand and walked back into the parade.

You only managed a couple minutes before the black Impala slowed beside you and a window rolled down.

“Get in the car, you’ll die of friggin’ heatstroke out here.”

You kept on walking.

“Sheriff’s orders. Don’t make me arrest you.”

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.”

He sighed and stopped the car. Stepping out he made his way to you. He no longer had his Stetson on, but his brown hair was teased into a simple style, a hair barely out of place. Without the hat, the sun did a number on his green eyes and making them shine just as bright as emeralds.

“I won’t ask, and we can both forget this whole encounter when you leave. I’ll take you to Jodie’s, she’s expectin’ you. Also, rude, what you said abou’ my town. Don’t do that again, ‘kay?”

“Fine.”

He opened the door for you, and you got in. Once inside, he handed you the clear plastic container with water in.

“Heatstroke is no joke. It gets hot out here and if you don’t watch yourself you can get seriously dehydrated.”

You snorted, a Sheriff dedicated to his people and those just passing through, it was unreal.

“I look after my people, even fancy city folk who aren’t my people.”

You took the cup and drank. The liquid was cool and easily slid down your dry throat, though you suspected it had warmed up slightly. Secretly you were grateful, as you had felt he beginnings of a headache coming on. Hopefully at the inn, you could get settled and take a painkiller or two to stave it off altogether.

“There’s a town BBQ tonight, everyone is welcome. You should join, say hi to a few folks. They love new faces.”

The idea of free food was appealing.

“Plenty of food and plenty of beer.”

“You gonna order me to go?”

“No, no. That would be an abuse of power.”

“Right.”

“Well it’ll be at Oakwood’s Park, if you’re interested, at 5:30 ‘til late.”

You nodded and then placed the plastic cup in the holder, wondering how long the drive was to the inn. It was getting real awkward.

The car turned a corner and you met with a beautiful and large cabin. The awning read Jodie’s. Thank God. He turned into a parking spot and cut the engine. You got out, as did he and went to the trunk. He gestured at you to go to the front door, as he pulled your case out.

“Sheriff? What can I do for you?”

You gave an awkward smile.

“Oooh a new face, come on, lets get you in and get you an iced tea.”

Oh dear. You grimaced. Iced tea was not for you.

“Water’s fine.”

“Well come on in, I’m Jodie, owner of Jodie’s and I see you met our lovely Sheriff,” She leaned in as you walked. “Don’t you think the Sheriff is one fine man? Plus, I think he’s got a eye on you.”

Probably because you were still a felon in his eyes, but you didn’t say that out loud. Didn’t need the whole town knowing everything about you.

“Uhuh.”

Small towns were not your thing.

Sheriff Winchester placed your case down beside you before hugging Jodie.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, it was nice seeing you Jodes, but I gotta shoot, get back to the office.”

“Aw, youre not gonna stay for an iced tea? Never mind, we can have a good catchup at the BBQ tonight.”

“Can’t, sorry Jodes, you know how it is, got paperwork pilin’ high. It’s gonna be a late one for me, ‘m afraid.”

“Well, we’ll save you a burger or two.”

“Appreciate it, thanks.”

He turned to you and said bye, then left.

Jodie took you under her wing and set you up with a room for the night. You thanked her and lugged your suitcase to your allocated room. After unlocking and setting your case to the side you had a quick rummage through your purse to see if you had any painkillers. Downing two you then laid on the bed and let the heat from the sun lull you into sleep.

@dean-winchesters-bacon @missjenniferb

[rorynne]

Time Lost Chapter 9

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Summary: An accident during a mission sends you back in time to the second world war. There you enlist the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings: None that I can think of off hand.

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Prologue Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8

You tapped the end of your pen on your desk as you went over your notes. It had taken a month of arguing with Phillips to gain the commandos their security clearance on the bell, as well as a number of other Hydra technologies that had been uncovered during you and Peggy's missions. And now, it was your job to debrief them all on the intel gathered so far. You gave a long drawn out breath, it definitely wasn't much.

"Letter for Agent L/N," Peggy said was a sly smirk as she dropper the letter onto your desk. "You getting mail is a new development." You glanced at her briefly before inspecting the letter, your name was written on the front in a now-familiar messy cursive. "From one Sergeant Barnes as well. Can't say I've heard of letters being sent to people in the same camp before.”

You gave Peggy a warning look at her observation. “He, apparently, doesn’t like the idea that I don’t get mail.” You said, trying to play it off as nothing the best you could, but your face was burning as Peggy scrutinized you. “He just doesn’t want me to feel left out is all.”

“Yes.” She said with an eyebrow raised, “I’m sure that’s the reason.” You studied the envelope, squirming slightly under her scrutiny. Your heart fluttered as your eyes traced the letters of his name in the corner. Peggy was right, sending letters to someone in the same camp was unusual. He easily could have just delivered it himself. “Well?” She asked, “What does it say?.” You glanced up at her before opening the letter and reading it aloud.

Y/N,

I sincerely hope you’re sleeping better than I am tonight. I’ve been tossing and turning all night, seems sleep just isn’t in the cards for me. The worst thing is, I can’t even blame it on Steve anymore. Used to keep me up all night with his snoring, now he's so damn quiet I sometimes wonder if he’s dead. Guess the serum really did a number on him huh? At least he sleeps better than he used to.

Steve told me about that fight you ended up having with Colonel Phillips, said you put up a real fuss and got a month’s worth of extra work out of the deal. It’s a bit overkill if you ask me, but hopefully, all that work won’t make it impossible to come and say hi to your fellow Howlies.

You know, you keep saying you aren't a soldier or a commando, but that sure as hell doesn’t seem to stop Phillips from punishing you like one. Either way, not many people are brave enough to tell off their CO like you seem to love doing. You really are something else, you know that right?

I should probably get back to trying to sleep, as much as I don’t want to. But you know what that's like, don’t you. I really wish you didn’t, but there's nothing I can really do about it is there. You deserve the world, not to be reminded of the horrors in it every time you close your eyes. I truly hope you are managing to sleep better than you did in January. If you ever need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep, you can always come to me. You probably wouldn’t even need to wake me up. I’ll always be happy to entertain you. Goodnight doll.

Yours,

Bucky

Your heart ached as you looked up from the letter. “Clearly no one told him my mail privileges were restricted as well.”

“Either that or he fancies you too much to care,” Peggy said, plucking the letter from your hands to read for herself.

You flushed at the thought, “It’s not like that, it’s just that he-”

“Quite clearly fancies you, yes.” Peggy finished for you, “The question is, what exactly are you planning to do about it?”

“Nothing.” You said quickly, standing up from your chair and snatching the letter back. “There’s nothing to do anything about.” You carefully folded the letter and tucked it into your breast pocket. “Even if we did ‘fancy’ each other, you know damn well I can’t do anything about it.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, “You’re being ridiculous. Anyone with eyes can see the way the two of you dance around each other. Why do you think Phillips restricted your mail privileges? He isn’t stupid, as much as you like to claim that he is.” She crossed her arms and watched you begin to pace. “If you keep playing with him like this, you both are going to get hurt.”

You rubbed your face with your hands, “I’m not- I don’t- Peggy you know it can’t work out. This is all fun now but once we find the bell-”

“We have no idea if the bell is actually even capable of bringing you back.”

“Don’t” You warned. It had been a possibility you considered only briefly. You couldn’t let yourself humor the idea that there might be no going back. “Do. Not. I have worked too hard for the past three years trying to get home. Do not say it might be impossible!” Tears welled in your eyes as panic threatened in the core of your stomach. You swallowed repeatedly as you struggled to control your breathing. “I have family waiting for me, friends, people I love who will think I’m dead. I can’t…” Your voice cracked as it trailed off.

Peggy’s face softened at your distress. “Y/N.” She sighed as she grabbed hold of you. “I know it isn’t a pleasant thought but you need to consider the possibility. We have no idea how this machine even works. You shouldn’t throw away your happiness if there's a chance it would be for nothing."

"It's going to work. It has to, and when it does-" You shook your head, "I can't do that to him. I'm not going to just let him fall in love with me and then abandon him that's cruel. He deserves better than that." You sat back down, hunched over, head in your hands as you tried to make sense of your thoughts. He was one of the best people you had ever met. Kind and understanding, funny, enjoyable to be around. He deserved the world.

"You both deserve to be happy." She said looking down at your slumped over form. "We're in the middle of a war. You shouldn't hesitate to act on something. What if something happens and one of you is stuck with regrets and what-ifs." Your heart dropped, that was right, he was supposed to die. You had pushed that horrible fact so far back into the back of your mind you had almost forgotten it completely. The pain of the thought made something snap in you.

"Oh, so you're going to follow that advice with Steve then? Last I checked neither of you were invincible." You snarled looking up at her with a glare.

She stiffened, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

You scoffed, leaning back in your seat. "You are a shockingly bad liar. There's clearly mutual attraction, so why don't you follow your own advice then?"

"Barnes isn't your superior officer." She defended.

You raised an eyebrow. "What about regrets and danger?" You knew you were being harsh, but you couldn't stop yourself. Fear and anger fueling your actions. "Surely a superior officer is just as complicated as my issue right?"

Peggy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay. Fine. Don't do anything about it. But my point still stands. You're a bloody fool if you let him slip away."

You rolled your eyes and began collecting your notes, "I've been called worse than that in my life." You grumbled, standing up. "Now if you don't mind me, I have a debriefing I need to go to." You finished, storming from the room.

The debriefing actually wasn't for a few more minutes yet when stomped into the currently empty planning room. Peggy, wisely, didn't follow you, instead, choosing to allow you to sort your emotions out alone. You took several deep breaths as you pinned papers and pictures to a corkboard. You couldn't even say you were angry at Peggy, she just wanted what she thought was best for her friends. Really, you were angry at the situation yourself. Also at the fact, people really seemed to enjoy sticking their noses into your business but that was neither here nor there.

You hated the fact that, had the situation been any different, you probably would have asked him out by now. You hated the fact that he was going to die if you couldn't find a way to stop it. You really hated just how easy it was to like the man far, far more than you actually should. But most of all, you hated that Peggy was right, she was always goddamn right. If you weren't careful, someone was going to end up hurt, and you most definitely were not being careful.

The simple fact of the matter was you and Bucky couldn't be together. Not when your entire goal was to leave. A pang of guilt hit you as you pinned up a stolen picture of the bell. Was it really right for you to be flirting with him like you were? Your heart panged with something more than guilt this time. Peggy was right again, of course, you really didn't want it to be just flirting. The pain you felt at the thought of it ending made that tragically clear. It also made it clear that it had to end.

"Getting everything ready for us doll?" The familiar voice behind you sent a whirlwind through your stomach. You turned top see Bucky leaning against a table with his cocky smile as Steve took a seat next to him.

You looked to him and then to Steve. It was still a few more minutes before the rest of the team and Phillips would arrive, the pair always preferred to be early. "I need to if I'm going to be getting everyone up to speed, Sergeant Barnes." You said in the most professional voice you could muster, fighting the urge to tease him. It would be better if you stopped.

Steve furrowed his brow and Bucky's smile faltered, "You alright doll?"

You turned back to pinning notes and photos onto the board. "I'm fine, thank you for asking, if you don't mind, I need to finish preparing for the debriefing."

"Y/N," Steve spoke up, concern clear in his voice. "If you add anything else to that board you're not going to be able to see the first layer." You paused and assessed your work. At some point, you had managed to pin up what appeared to be the entire 80-page file on the bell. You scrunched your nose and scratched the back of your head as looked over the board.

"Are you," Buck said slowly, "sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." You said as you began taking down the excess pages. Bucky started to protest as the rest of the Commandos clamored into the room, Phillips, Stark, and Peggy following them close behind.

"Let's get this show on the road, L/N," Phillips announced, standing at the front of the room. "As Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have already been informed, Agent Carter and Agent L/N have been, over the past three years, pursuing several highly dangerous hydra projects."

"Like the serum." Steve offered, arms crossed leaning back in his chair.

Phillips nodded, "the serum was one of the projects that Agent Carter succeeded in helping us obtain." Peggy's lips pulled upward into a proud smile. "This is the reason why Agent L/N joined you on your first mission. Her primary goal, on all missions she is assigned to, is to find and obtain all information pertaining to a specific piece of hydra technology known as 'Die Glocke' or 'The Bell'. She will assist you on any mission she is assigned to join you on, but her primary focus and orders will remain the same. Any questions?"

"I don't get it," Morita said face scrunched up in confusion. "What the hell does this bell even do that makes it so important?"

Phillips gave you a look and stepped to the side, allowing you to have center stage. “We believe, based on documents recovered so far, that the bell’s primary function is to see into the future, like a window.”

“You think they’re building a time machine,” Steve said, clearly unconvinced at the idea. You fought the urge to laugh.

“The documentation specifies it’s intended use to only see into the future, not travel through it.” You said glancing at Peggy who gave you a warning look. “Currently, we have no proof of it actually being capable of time travel.” No evidence except you sitting there right now, but you didn’t press the issue. “From our understanding, it requires an obscene amount of energy to even stabilize itself. In all likelihood, hydra plans on using batteries like the ones Captian Rogers recovered to power it. Suffice to say, allowing hydra the chance to develop something that can see into the future is highly dangerous.

“I’ve been working on locating it for years, but our biggest breakthroughs have been recent. Specifically, when Captian Rogers took out the base in Austria and, most recently, with the files I was able to obtain in the Italian base.” You pointed to the map on the board. “My word originally led me to France, but it turned out to be a dead-end at the time. Fortunately, it seems that lead wasn’t nearly as dead as it seemed at the time. The files I recovered confirmed the bell being in the french base at some point. Unfortunately, the chances of it still being there are slim.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a wild goose chase,” Stark commented, feet propped up on the table in front of him and his hands behind his head. You rolled your eyes, you really wished you could just punch him. “How do we know it actually exists and isn't something they just made up to distract us?

“I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.” You argued. “That’s why I’m assigned to this mission in the first place.”

“Oh yeah?” Stark challenged, “When?”

You glared at him, annoyance coursing red hot through your veins, “Three years ago in London during an air raid. Before I joined the SSR I was sneaking around in places I largely shouldn’t have been and stumbled on it. Now is that all of the inane questions from the peanut gallery?” Stark smirked at your frustration but didn’t respond. God, you hated that smug bastard.

“As I was saying,” You continued. “There should still be a lot of intel left at the French base. Including, hopefully, information on its current location.”

“Which is why the Colonel is having us work our way up to France,” Steve said, piecing the bits of information together with ease.

“Precisely,” Phillips said. “We will decide the best course of action after that mission. As far as I’m concerned it is in our best interest to follow this trail until Agent L/N finds the information she needs to locate and destroy the bell. After that point, you boys will continue to take down the hydra bases without her interference.”

All of the Commandos shifted slightly, clearly unsure of what to make of your joining them on missions being called ‘interference’. It was Bucky that broke the uncomfortable silence. “With all due respect sir, Agent L/N is an invaluable part of the Commandos.” The rest of the men nodded and grunted their agreement, but Phillips remained stoic.

“I know precisely how valuable Agent L/N is,” Phillips said. “Which is exactly why I can and will assign her to missions as I see fit.” He looked at Steve, face stern. “If your team can’t function without a single agent, we have bigger problems on our hands.”

Steve’s face was stony as he responded. “That won’t be an issue Colonel.” He said, his voice betraying his displeasure. You couldn’t say you were surprised. There was a reason why you and Peggy were able to get away with so much. They would have had better luck convincing Phillips to get them a bear as a team mascot. Good agents were rare, good agents that soldiers were readily willing to underestimate were even rarer, and an extremely valuable tool.

“I’m glad we could come to that understanding,” Phillips said, finally breaking eye contact with Steve. “If there are no further questions, you all are dismissed.” He said, turning his focus towards the board.

You collected your things as the men filed out of the room, only Bucky remained behind. “Are you sure you’re okay Doll?” He whispered low enough that only you could hear. Leaning over the table, he was so close you could hear the slight jingle of his dog tags beneath his uniform as he shifted his weight.

You took a deep breath, your heart really couldn’t take much more of this, if he got any closer you were convinced it would simply explode. “What makes you so sure something is wrong Sarge...ent.” You tacked the last syllable on awkwardly, not flirting with him was actually going to be a challenge.

He turned his head to look behind him before looking back at you. “Because I have never seen you go this long without smiling.”

You frowned slightly, trying to fight off the desire to smile at just the sound of his voice. “I don’t have anything currently to smile about.”

He considered your answer for a moment, bobbing his head slightly. “And,” He added, “You’re calling me Sergeant Barnes, which you only do when I’ve done something to piss you off.”

You opened your mouth to speak when Phillips interrupted. “Agent L/N, come here for a moment and explain this document you have here.”

You glanced at Phillips out of the corner of your eye, for once you were thankful for the Colonel’s demanding nature. “If you’ll excuse me.” You said to Bucky before escaping to Phillips’ side to discuss whatever had caught his attention, leaving Bucky standing at a loss, with none of his questions truly answered.

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

Fanfic Author Meme

Tagged by @diligent-thunder and @rockmarina​ =)

Okay, so I’m me, and I talked way too much, so I’m putting this under a cut to save your dashes. You’re welcome 😘

Please do not reblog this post.

Author Name: 

Fleetofshippyships + Knowyourincantations + Legendaryroar

Fandoms You Write For: 

(in order of decreasing # of fics) Harry Potter, Voltron, Merlin, Yuri on Ice, Star Trek, Star Wars and then a few one-offs that aren’t really worth mentioning.

Where You Post: 

AO3 primarily, Tumblr, trying to post more on Pillowfort, I also post on a couple of sites for knowyourincantations

Most Popular One-Shot: 

Fleetofshippyships: Potter’s Insatiable Cock (Drarry, Explicit (duh XD), 20k (viewable only for logged-in AO3 users)).

Knowyourincantations: A Decent Start to Things (Pansmione, Teen, 7k)

Legendaryroar: Finding Time for Rest (Sheith (Voltron), Teen, 3k)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: 

RestraintNone of my old multi-chapter fics are available to read at this time and I don’t really write multi-chapter fics anymore.

If oneshot/drabble collections or two-shots count, then:

Fleetofshippyships: Vanilla and Sweet Spices (Drarry, Explicit, 2 chapters, 20k)

and this really doesn’t count, but technically it has multiple ‘chapters’ soooooooooo

Legendaryroar: Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships (Voltron), Explicit (duh), 31 ‘chapters’, 26k)

Favourite Story You Wrote: 

I don’t think I ever have a static favourite, I’ve just written too many things, I too quickly move on to the next (and frequently forget some of my own fics exist XD), but recently I re-read In Pursuit of Red Wine (Dreville, Teen, 29k) and really enjoyed that again, and I am really attached to it cos it was my first longish rarepair fic, kind of proving to myself that I can write longer rarepair stuff. 

I also recently re-read Unburdened (Merthur (BBC Merlin), Explicit, 2k) and really enjoyed that too, had a total disconnect from having written it since it’s been so long, so I was able to read it without self-judging, and oh boy that was nice. 

I’m also quite proud of Healing What’s Left (Parkgrass, Teen, 2k) for some reason, I dunno, maybe the dark political backdrop of the fic, or maybe just cos it’s the first time I’ve written Daphne as the main character and I’m happy with the result and now have some headcanons about her rather than her being an unknown blank character to me. 

I also binge read a lot of my Voltron stuff recently and had big feels over that so....I also specifically enjoyed re-reading The Perks of Skincare (Klance (Voltron), Explicit, 3k) again cos I dunno, I like how I wrote Lance XD and also the Sheith fic I linked earlier is a fav for sure. Shiro/Rest is the ultimate OTP.

It really depends how soon after I write something or when I go back to re-read it as to what my fav is at any given time (or people commenting on it and hyping me up for it again).

Story You Were Nervous to Post: 

Everything. But most recently I was terrified out of my mind before posting: 

Friday Night by the Fire (Harry/Neville, Teen, 583 words) because I have a lot of fears about screwing up trying to write ace characters and somehow not even making that a focal point of the drabble made it even more terrifying,  No More Waiting (TianShan (19 Days), Teen, 2k) because it was a new fandom to write in, Harry Potter and the Maudlin Merman series (Drarry, Teen+ Mature, 3k +6k) due to my feelings of inadequacy because it would be better as long fic but I struggle too much with writing these days to write long fics and can only manage short things. I’d rather write this as a long fic, but then I’d never finish it so connected oneshots are the best I can do right now, but I still feel it’s not good enough and have a meltdown whenever I post one. And speaking of which, I’ve been sitting on the next one for months and should probably just fucking post it already.

Actually, most recently: Minding One’s Limits (Cho/Ginny, G rated, 1.5k), because I gave Cho a disability modeled off my fibromyalgia and wrote a scenario similar to something I’d dealt with myself, it was incredibly uncomfortable to write in the first place, and then terrifying to post, even though it’s so short. But in the end I’m proud I finally wrote about it a bit? I dunno, might take me a while to work up the nerve again though XD (also was my first time writing that ship, so there was a lot of nervousness over that too)

Oh, and I was a super ball of anxiety posting  Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships, Explicit, 31 ‘chapters’, 26k) because for almost all of those it was the first time I was writing those kinks (and some were kind of squicks for me but I wanted to see if I could write them anyway cos I’m dumb like that) and in a lot of cases those ships were completely new for me to write too, in addition to trying to write and post 1 a day, so...yeah. Also that was my first time writing tentacle and human/werewolf smut so...yeah. I was an absolute mess that month and not in a fun way. But I’m still really glad I did it, it was fun =D

In summary, I’m always an anxious mess posting anything, but most especially if it’s something I’ve not written before or is personal to me XD

How Do You Choose Your Titles: 

Most of the time I’m staring down the empty title field in AO3 cursing like a fucking sailor when I choose titles XD Sometimes it’s a line/theme/feeling from the fic. Sometimes it’s totally random and just comes to me. Sometimes I just grasp the first thing that I can no matter how stupid it sounds cos it’s been three days and I still don’t have a title and I’m over it and ready to post before I lose my nerve.

And tbh, it’s only getting harder to think of titles as my number of fics increases, and I’ve now started thinking of the perfect titles only to realise I already have a published fic by that title so....TITLES CAN DIE A FIERY DEATH

Sometimes, not so much anymore, it would turn out that I would give a wip doc a name just so I’d know what it was, sometimes as a joke with whoever was reading it and cheerleading while I wrote it, and then I would refer to it by that and think of it as that so much that when it came time to actually give the fic a title, it was too late and I could not think past that stupid file name, and that’s how Potter’s Insatiable Cock happened, and how I very nearly called a Merthur fic Arthur’s Wanking Tower (saved that one at the last moment thank god cos the tone of that fic is actually really serious and emotional and wtf was I even thinking with that file name and actually I linked to that fic above XD it ended up being called Unburdened). 

Potter’s Insatiable Cock slipped through cos it’s actually relevant to the fic content and I could live with it.

But needless to say, I don’t give my wip docs joke names anymore XD

Do You Outline: 

Only if I never want to actually write the idea...once I outline, it’s over. I can’t write to a detailed plan. It stifles me. I’ll always get stuck having to try and think ahead to the plan, and then I lose the flow and nothing works because I’m a pantser/intuitive/instinctive writer not a planner. Sometimes I jot down ideas but in like, the vaguest of ways, usually more focused on emotional development than actual scenes or events or anything because then I won’t be able to write it (and I rarely stick to those vague ideas anyway). 

I can really only write when I’m staring down a blank doc with no idea where it’s going and discover it as I go (which is why writing is so fun for me). I can only finish a fic if I don’t think too hard about what’s going to happen next and just let it happen as I write. 

This of course means that editing is a fucking bitch when I finish anything, beginnings often get totally re-written, but if I plan, it just doesn't happen at all, so I’ll take the extra editing if it means I manage to write something.

I do have a lot of detailed plotty fic idea outlines...and I mourn them cos I’m never going to write them now, but they’re so goooooooooood XD

Complete: 

Online (across all 3 accounts): 381 (incl. my hidden drarry fics as they are technically online just hidden, not incl. individual oneshots/drabbles in collection ‘fics’, of which there are ridiculously many). Offline: 20 (I have the worst habit of just sitting on completed fics and I really need to stop)

In-Progress: 

Too many to name, last time I counted it was ~60 but that wasn’t even including my vld wips so...I don’t actually know. I hoard wips and just switch up what I work on all the time depending on mood/interest levels/effort required. 

Current main focuses are a 50k+ plotty Drarry (*fingerscrossed* cos this is my first time seriously attempting something long (will probably reach 80k at least) in a very long time and I put it down for a few months and thought that was it but then I picked it up again recently, yay!), and re-writing some hidden fics I can’t put them back up in the quality they’re in, I just can’t guys, they’re awful.

I’ve been thinking a lot about working on the longish 8th year Pansmione fic I started for the wlw big bang before I had to pull out of cos stupid life stuff. I might pick that up again for a bit too, couldn’t be more different from the Drarry one so it’d make a nice focus break =)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: 

I don’t even plan fics I’m writing, I sure don’t plan ahead to stuff I haven’t even started XD The only think I can think of for this category would be me re-writing my hidden long Drarry fics.

Oh, and there will be a Merthur oneshot coming (hopefully) soon, because @april-thelightfury115​ won my custom fic giveaway with a merthur idea. Just waiting for my brain to cooperate so I can start that and not suck XD but I’m so fucking excited to write some Merthur again, you have no idea.

Oh, and lots more Sapphic September drabbles coming too, I’m way behind and only just posted day 11 cos this month is literal hell for me, but I am still planning on finishing the prompt list, no matter how long it takes, but no plan for those, not even which ships, I just sit down with the next prompt and a blank doc and see what happens.

Do You Accept Prompts: 

Yes, I love writing to prompts, I’m take them via google form here, but I’m in such a bad space with my health I’ve been really struggling with writing lately, managed to do a bit of editing (fuck knows how), but writing new stuff is so hard, so there’s a long wait while I wait for my fibro fog to ease off to the point I can write new stuff with more regularity (and less stupid errors I have to edit out later).

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: 

Again, I so don’t plan. But I really want to be making more progress on the long plotty drarry wip I’m trying to write. I’m still not sure I’ll have the guts to post it even if I do finish it, given its subject matter (it would make a great careers or consent fest fic tbh), but damn I’m really excited by it. Not sure I can maintain it being plotty and not revert to focusing on the relationship (which is easier for me), but I can only try and see what happens. (trying to write a non-relationship plot without planning is a nightmare but I don’t have a choice if I want to write it at all XD)

I’m also now excited for my longish pansmione wip too actually, just because it’s already longer than my Dreville long-ish fic and it’s exciting and scary to do longer rarepair stuff. I’m way out of my comfort zone with the fic itself, but I dunno, I re-read some recently and fell in love with it all over again, like, flustered lesbian-awakening, disaster for Pansy (but sure she still hates her) Hermione? YES PLEASE! and also, I am guilty of not writing female characters as much as I should because, well, canonically, they don’t have much depth and I’m very meh about them, but in this there’s a huge focus on them because they’re all determined to band together for 8th year and Hermione is making friends with them (Parvati is like, dragging her along all the time XD) where she once dismissed them so it’s scary but exciting =D I’m getting more practice with all the sapphic I do over on knowyourincantations, so I feel more confident working on this wip now =D

I’m also kind of excited about re-writing my old long fics, because they’re all 3 years old now, and my writing tastes (and skill, yikes) have totally changed, so it’s like I’m writing the story again but how I would write it now while maintaining the overall same plot, so it’s really interesting, like discovering the story all over again. Like in one (Making Malfoy Blush) I’ve gone as far as introducing a new side character to replace another’s parts because I no longer feel those parts are in character for them. It’s super terrifying, but it’s fun at the same time =) it’ll take me forever to do these though, so I dunno about ‘upcoming’ really, I only chip away every now and then when I’m unable to write new stuff but am still coherent enough to do something.

Eh, it is what it is, I can’t write like I used to, hence me being inactive more than active these days, but I’m trying to work within my new limitations instead of getting frustrated with them and just giving up entirely =)

---

Now, who to tag....I think anyone I would tag has already done it, and if not..I blame the fog if I’m forgetting someone obvious, if you wanna do it just say I tagged you so I can be nosy and take a look =)

Again, please do not reblog this post

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines : Chapter 4 - Gacen

chapter four adding everyone favorite depressed smuggler 

Ash looks after the ship while Gacen bums around the ship (writing this made me proper sad :( why do i do this to my precious children)

Ash was setting the ship up for a hyperspace jump, they had a long way to go to deliver their cargo so best settle in for a long night. She couldn’t think straight at the moment, she hadn’t seen Gacen in a couple hours which could be very bad, she wanted to go find him but knew she had to not smother him that would just make it worse. 

As if in response to her worry she heard him enter the cockpit. “hey Ash you got the route setup” he said as he plopped down into the co-pilots chair feet up on the controls

“Yeah I've got the route plotted and we’re ready to go into hyperspace” she was rather new to piloting but thought she’d been picking it up fairly fast with Gacen’s help

“I should probably check just in case don’t wanna end up inside a giant space worm or something” he said with a slight chuckle, he leaned over the console catching himself on about 10 buttons “don’t worry about that it’s probably unimportant” Ash made a mental note of which buttons to reset once he had finished. “pretty good but look here” he pointed at a point in the route near a black hole “this is a bit too close to the black hole it’s probably best not to risk it” 

Ash was surprised “but I've calculated the risk and it’s small enough that making that journey will be worth it to get us there sooner” made sense to her they would get paid more even if there was damage

“yeah i know but better safe than sorry right, also if we add” he pointed to another star “this we can pick up lunch at a place that actually serves good food rather than bug food” he made a good point usually food at the drop offs was quite unenjoyable

“alright sure why not” Ash said probably best not to press it

“excellent��� he said moving back to his reclined position, he slipped for a second and nearly fell over “I’m fine i’m fine don’t worry” he said scrambling back into his seat

“I wasn’t worried” Ash said with her arms folded she swore he’d lose his head without her “so you doing okay?” she asked probably best to at least ask

“what do you mean” Gacen said with a puzzled look on his face

hmmm she didn’t want to be too obvious “you been stable” she said with an eyebrow raised

“oh cmon Ash trust me i’m fine you’d know if there was a problem trust me” exactly that’s why she was worried but he was right she should trust him

“okay good i’m gonna bump this into hyperspace we got a while in there so make sure you don’t get too bored” she said hopefully implying the right thing

“yeah i’m gonna take a nap easiest way to combat boredom” he said with a smile he walked out the cabin with his usual chipper walk which was a good sign. 

Ash stayed at the console for a bit making sure that every precaution was taken before leaving it to make the trip, she had an alert for if they came out of hyperspace, a remote pilot, the list went on. She had tried to install some upgrades to the ship after agreeing to join Gacens crew, the ship was royally unequipped and could fall apart any minute, now it could probably manage the Kessel run, Gacen said that was some kind of hard maneuver or something. Speaking of Gacen a nap didn’t seem like the worst idea and it would be good to check on him. 

Ash got up and made her way to the bunks but when she arrived there was no sign of Gacen oh no this was bad she began to look for him checking for alcohol as she went there was none last time she checked, she made sure of it. None in the kitchen area but his hiding spots were more of the issue, None in the chess table good, none in the holopad and none in the medbay hidden as medicine. This meant he either already had it and he had a lot or Ash was overreacting. 

Where was he though? she’d normally found him by now, she searched the ship one more time and still couldn’t find him in any room, the only place he could still be is in the turret. She made her way to the bottom of the turret “Gacen? you up there” She could see his feet but still polite to ask

“huh wha-- oh hey Ash what’s up” Gacen seemed disorientated which was a very bad sign

“what are you doing up there i thought you were having a nap?” god this was going so wrong he better not be drinking himself to death up there

“nap? oh well... i like to nap up here sometimes ya know the hyperspace trails they’re cool n stuff” that’s a suprisingly good lie but his stupor and dazy way of speaking was giving it away big time

She would have to trick him down “well i’m going to take a nap so need someone up front” obligation seemed a good road to take

“oh well... sure i can do that i guess give me a minute to come down you just go ahead and go to bed” yeah sure and leave you like that fat chance at least he wasn’t slurring his words 

Ash had to keep this charade up so went to the bunks but stayed awake. She heard a loud crash about 2 minutes later and made her way to the bar area fists clenched. Gacen was sat there on the floor drinking from a flask “uh A---Ash um this uh where did this flask come from” he said barely comprehensible “i think it’s haunted” 

“God dammit Gacen why do you keep doing this” Ash was shouting now this was not the first time and she was really trying to help him she was furious 

“alright fine okay i can’t do it are you happy now you win I’m a drunk and you’re in control” Gacen said retreating into himself beginning to drink more from the flask

“this is not what i want Gacen i want to help you why do you want to do this to yourself” she said snatching the flask from Gacens hands

“you know damn well why, everything is garbage, everyone leaves and i’m left alone i can’t do it anymore it’s too hard” he said trying to stand up but stumbling back to his knees

“so what you’d rather just drink yourself to death” Ash was really trying she had a lot of patience for him because of all he’d done for her but she could not tolerate that

“YES i would what’s the point in not i don’t exactly have any family who would be sad about it” Gacen seemed so lost Ash had no idea what to do she was terrible at talking to people regularly how did she bring her best friend out of this

 “how do you know if there’s a point if you’re never sober hell when was the last time that you were” Ash really hoped that would it through to him

“i don’t wanna be sober because then i start thinking and when i start thinking i can’t stop and feel just as bad” Ash knew he’d been through a lot but he still hadn’t told him half of the story how was she supposed to help if he wouldn’t open up

“please tell me when was the last time that you were sober” she needed to know how long she had been lied to

“a little after we got out of Belsavis, what do you care anyway?” WHAT a little after Belsavis the whole time they’d been working together she was utterly furious she wanted to slap him so bad but contained herself 

“of course i fucking care Gacen i’m not angry at you for no reason i’m angry because you’re my friend and i want my friend back the one who could bring me out of a bad mood with his stupid jokes and show me right from wrong when i was too stubborn to understand. You’re not the only one who lost people you’re all I've got now but i don’t know if i can keep doing this if you’re always drinking trying to die of alcohol poisoning” Ash was tearing up at this point she wasn’t familiar with this sensation what do people normally do with tears where do they go?

Gacens face changed though maybe it worked “oh i...i just thought you wanted me to be better so i could help” Ash was shocked did he really not realize that she just needed her friend back “you really want me to be better for me?”

“of course i do i know i’m not good at showing it but i really care about you Gacen, please just get better for me?” Ash didn’t like admitting these sort of things but this seemed like it was worth it

“Okay Ash i’ll try i promise it’ll be a slow process and i’m still gonna drink but i won’t drink myself to death” Gacen said with a half smile that was a half victory for Ash it’s better than nothing and he at least understood now.

“okay thanks buddy i really appreciate it” Ash needed a rest after that she felt so overwhelmed.

“good now i’m gonna take a nap on this nice cold floor i’ll see you in the morning” with that his head hit the metal and he passed out

Ash picked him up and moved him too the bed, even as dead weight he was the easiest thing to carry. “good night Gacen you stupid fool” Ash said with a smile and left him...

[texasthegreatdestroyer]

So, I don't usually do these, because I always felt that shipping oc's with characters from other fan works was socially frowned upon, but since I've been seeing a few of these around, I'll give it a shot. My OC shipped with Auron.

Auron x Texas.

Yes, Auron's current partner in crime, rather he'd liked to admit it or not. Their meeting was rather... comedic. Auron didn't really notice his co worker until he accidentally rested the elbow of his sheifed arm on her head. She was very short, Her height being 4'8. He looked down to find a short, albino girl with wolf ears, and a tail. The whole package. Everything else looked human, she just had a few furry parts to her. Another key thing about her is that she always came off as the, "edgy" type, for her preference in black lipstick, and eyeliner. When he did get to know her, Auron has always found her annoyingly chipper, and overly friendly. The two attended a funeral together once, and she wouldn't stop smiling. Seriously. How does someone smile that much at a funeral??? Auron asked her about it.

Her response: Usually when people die, they don't want people to mourn over them, there for I choose not to mourn.

She wasn't entirely wrong, speaking from his own experiences, however it wasn't exactly the majority opinion, as Auron had to keep the wife of the dead man from trying to punch Tex in the face. Tex was almost always very clingy in the irritating and physical sense. She liked hugging a lot. She would hug Auron everytime she'd see him, and it usually would last 5 minutes before he would have to eventually pull her off. As time went on, and they grew closer, Auron started to notice that something was very wrong with Texas. Her extremely chipper personality was used to hide some dark, twisted thoughts, feelings, and even experiences. He came to this realization when he went to visit her one night, and she didn't answer her door. She lived in a dormitory like area, where there was the bedroom, and then a small room next to it that was a kitchen, and the bathroom being against the the smaller side of the rectangular kitchen. It was a nice little place for someone who likes living alone, but it had its downsides, like paper thin walls. You could hear the inhabitants, and they most likely can hear you as well. After a minute or two of waiting, just as he turned to leave, Auron was startled by the sound of soft, female sobbing, coming from Tex's dorm. He knew for a fact that if Tex was crying, which he had never actually seen her do, something was horribly wrong. He immediately opened the door to find a mess waiting for him. Texas sat their curled up in a ball, hands grabbing at her hair and pulling, make up smeared, wrists bleeding from self inflicted bites. Scattered around her were drawings of morbid, violent, and just horrid depictions, along with words scribbled over them along the lines of, "Worthless", "Dead", "No Future", "I'm nothing." A common sign of depression. If there was one thing Auron always knew about Tex is that she had a talent for art. She did this thing that she called a web comic. Auron, not really being kept up in technology, never really knowing what it was, let alone reading it, thought nothing of it, but he had seen her art, and it was phenomenal. It really opened his eyes to what she truly was when he saw that beauty and talent turned into something so ugly and self degrading. When Tex finally noticed him, her reaction was just to try to hide herself in the comfort of her knees. Auron began snooping around, and grabbing rags, then pried Tex's hands from her head, and wrapped her wrist.

Auron: Moron. What were you thinking???

Texas: ...

Auron pulled her into an embrace, still holding the rags to her wrist.

Auron: Would you like to talk about why you bit yourself up like this? Or the sketches for that matter?

Texas: I-I don't know what to do! My art! My comic! I- the deadline to get chapter 9 out is tomorrow, and I thought I could just push through it in a day with enough effort, but I don't even have content! I don't have a script! I have no story, no art for chapter 9! I'm a fuck up! I'm stupid! I'm nothing! I-... I'm so sorry... you shouldn't have had to see me like this...

Auron: It's fine. You're human after all. I expect you to have emotions, breaking points. As for your problems. Tex, the comic is just a for fun thing, right?

Texas: Yeah...

Auron: Great. Take some time off until you get over your writer's block. The timely fashion of updates doesn't matter, the quality does. If you can't produce anything good, then step back and take a break. It's obvious that it's affecting your mental health. This will make you hate what you do, so step back from it. Take a break.

Texas: You're right, I've just... meh.

Auron: Don't be afraid to show your emotions around me. It shows me that you are human.

That night, Auron didn't leave Tex's side, mainly out of fear for what she might do when she's alone. This opened a pathway for future sleep overs. Auron didn't share his bed with many, but with Tex, it had become routine, and he didn't mind. He actually liked the cuddles. A few months later, he receives a message from Tex. That night, she wasn't with him, she decided to stay at her place to do some cleaning.

Message received at 1:23 am:

Texas: Hey. Are you awake?

Auron: I wasn't until you woke me. -_-

Texas: Oh sorry. I forgot that your ringtone is up all the way usually... I'm sorry. XD

Auron: This better be important if it warrants you texting me at one in the morning...

Texas:...

Auron: It's not that important, is it?

Texas: ... No comment...

Auron: Tex...

Texas: I'll leave you alone then.

Auron: Why do you do this!? Spit it out! I'm already awake!

Texas: Are you sure? It can wait until tomorrow.

Auron: Tex. Spit. It. Out...

Texas: I can't! You're making me nervous!XI

Auron: Why would you be nervous?

Texas: Because it's kinda personal...

Auron: Okay. Pretend I'm not here. Say what you have to say.

Texas: ... that is so unaffective when I'm staring directly at that message...

Auron: Point taken. Just tell me.

Texas: Okaaaaay! ...

The icon at the bottom that says that Tex is typing stays that way for 5 minutes.

Auron: So?

Texas: Okay. Here goes nothing. And when I say that, I mean here goes everything I could possibly hold dear in my life. XD

Auron: Are you going to say what I think you're going to say?

Texas: I would really really really REALLY like to punch you in the face!

Auron: Okay, that's not where I thought you were going with this.

Texas: With my face, gently... I Love you! You are amazing, and wise, and sweet, even when you hide it under your protective layers! I simply love you. End of story. And I was wondering if you would allow me to take you out to dinner! I'm going to go cry now, because I feel like I'm dying XD

Auron: I stand corrected...

Auron: O//_//O...

Auron: No.

Texas: No?

Auron: No.

Texas: Okay then... What? No reason why? Like I'm cool with it, if you don't like me like that, but still. At least give me a reason...

Auron: Okay. I'll tell you exactly why. Yeah. I like you. I think you're cute. However, I don't appreciate you waking me up at 1 in the morning to text me with a confession. You want a relationship? Fine, but take initiative and tell me to my face. Quit being a coward. -_-

Texas: Ouch. My feel goods. Anyways, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow man. Sorry about this...

Auron: It's fine :) Sleep well, Tex.

Texas: You too bro <3

After Auron and Tex finish messaging each other, Auron goes back to sleep. The next day is pretty amusing. Auron waits for his partner. Half expecting she hopes to forget about the previous night. Auron hears running behind him, and turns to find Tex in a suit and tie running up to hi., screaming, "I love you, you sexy, sexy son of a gun!" She knocks his feet out from under him, and steals a very, very passionate kiss, but soon afterwards, causing Auron and Tex both to fall over to the ground. Because her tiny frame is too much for his bigger, heavier frame. Luckily Texas's arm was under Auron's head when they fell, so no brain damage was caused to the older male. Texas turns to Auron, half expected to be heated, and she wasn't wrong, just heated in a different sense. Auron's face was bright red, slight tears to his eyes, he bursts out laughing, black lipstick smeared on his lips.

Texas: What? You told me to take initiative!

His laughter fades to a light chuckle, and then he stops.

Auron: Wow. That was... cheesy.

Texas: Also clearly failed...

Auron: (Still catching his breath.) No it didn't.

Texas: So it actually worked!?!? YAY!

Auron: Just don't do that again. You took us both out in the process.

Auron pulls Tex into his lap, and the two share a proper kiss.

Auron: See. That in of it's self is enough for me.

Texas: Yeah, but it wouldn't be a confession from me if it wasn't stupidly cheesy and didn't make you smile.

Auron: It's missing something though.

Texas: And that is?

Auron: The amazing pick up line from last night.

Texas: Ah yes, you have good taste, my kind, gentle sir. I would really.

Auron: Yes?

Texas: Really.

Auron: Go on.

Texas: Really.

Auron:...

Texas: Really!

Auron: Hopefully this is the last, "Really."

Texas: Like to punch you in the face. With my face gently, romantically, and in other places besides your face.

Auron: Okay. Okay. Calm down. We haven't even had dinner yet...

Texas: Exactly. Dinner.

Auron is very flustered at his now girlfriend's sense of humor. Safe to say, they had a very romantic evening together. ;3

This is my contribution to OC x Fan work Characters. Hope you enjoyed!

[the-mf-bread-babies]

29/5/20

– REBUILD III –

= RUNAWAY RENEGADES =

· COLLECTION I ·

“backstories”

– VOLUME ONE–

“Dennis, Aaron, Damon, Sawblade”

· PART TWO ·

———————————————————

“Hm? Yeah. Look at Twitter, dude, it's trending,” Damon replied casually as the two quickly pulled out their phones. “What? It's not– oh, it changed,” Aaron stated, “It was normal, then it refreshed, and now I have over twenty notifications and DMs. Sorry, Denny,” Dennis narrowed his eyes at his husband. “I literally gave you that raccoon video last night. I know you didn't look at it,” he pointed out, petty. “How was I supposed to kn–” he argued, before Damon cut it off.

“So are you guys having the apocalypse Twitter now or what?” he asked, interrupted their quarrel. “Oh, I never update mine so I can still have the square icons and stuff,” “I'm just getting normal stuff right now; cat videos, ads, recipe videos, the occasional out of context fandom drama and discourse. The usual,” Dennis confessed. “Like, ever? Never updated it? You don't have lights out mode?” Damon asked, trying to understand this man's level of dedication for square icons. “Yup. Minecraft's square, which is nice,” he replied, smiling honestly. “Okay…” Damon processed.

“Oh, like, she really stabbed him. Like, with a knife. Like, to death,” Aaron said, bringing them back to the current conversation about apocalypse Twitter. “Hm? Oh, yeah, that. The dude, like, died, and stuff; F,” Damon said respectfully. “Chrissy Teigen bought rights to a nuke…” Aaron added. “And Hatsune Miku is leading a protest. Good for her,” He scrolled through his timeline. Dennis made a sad face. “Why's my feed so boring…” “I'm getting hockey spoilers. HOCKEY,”

“Maybe if you had circle icons…” Damon suggested quietly. “SQUARE ICONS ARE GOOD, DUDE, AND I–” Dennis's passionate and tenacious yelling was suddenly interrupted by an inhuman growl. “Oh, stupid cannibal rats. This isn't New York, goddamn it,” Aaron grumbled as he grabbed a broom and walked angrily towards the noise. “This is why stray cats are important, you dumbass mayor,” “Just friggin’, spay and neuter ‘em if you hate them so much, clip their ears and shit…”

“So, about Borderlands. Which one’re you playing?” Dennis said as they both waited for Aaron to investigate. “TWO!! I'M PLAYING BORDERLANDS 2, ON MY THIRD ULTIMATE VAULT HUNTER MODE PLAYTHROUGH, AND ALSO THE PRE-SEQUEL, AND I'M PLANNING TO BUY BORDERLANDS 3 WHEN THERE'S A GOOD SALE LATER!!!! I LOVE BORDERLANDS!!!” Damon explained excitedly.

“I wanted to buy the legendary collection on my Switch, but I… panicked and bought Animal Crossing instead. I have Raymond on my island, by the way,” Dennis said sadly. “I built a cage around his house the other day,” Damon stared sadly at this man, understanding his complicated dilemma. “That's very nice,” he said, “how does your island look like?” Damon leaned against the wall, holding Sawblade, who was now sleeping. “Bad,” the man replied, looking down in shame.

Aaron, on the other hand, was whacking the living hell out of the ground, determined to find the creature. “Wait, I probably shouldn't scare it off or something,” He realized, calmly holding the broom. “C'mere, lil guy,” he repeated as he whistled. Another odd growl echoed in the alleyway, sounding much closer than the previous one. “Hm,” Aaron thought as he stopped walking for a bit, unsure whether to call the two over or to keep going alone. “DENNIS! DAMON!” he yelled, extremely scared of whatever monster was luring him over. “Yeah, I have Graham, he's just ok–” Dennis conversed. “Aaron?! Did you find it?” He shouted.

* CHAPTER TWO *

The Mystery

“COME OVER HERE!!” Aaron yelled back. “What about Sawblade?” Damon worriedly asked. “SAW– Uh, just– just put her in the back, there's some food, water, litter boxes, toys, treats, ghosts, cable,” Dennis listed down as he carefully took her from the boy and carried her to the back room. “Well, basically, it's for cats,” He said as he closed the door. “Alright, let's go,”

As Aaron was waiting patiently for the two to follow, he took out his phone and browsed through a shopping app. Unsurprisingly, this had also changed. The feed was filled with knives, jackets, concrete powder, more knives, advertisements for people looking for commissions, and… snacks. “Oh, apocalypse stuff, huh?” he mumbled as he eyed the “Food” tab, tapping it, eager to know what apocalypse snacks are like. Hopefully not like, chips made out of gasoline or something.

Wow.

WOW .

“Tubby custard, Cookie Monster cookies, Why Does Anime Food Look So Tasty, Hottie's Microwaved Chicken, Salad Fingers’ Salad Fingers, ACTUAL rice fried by chickens, Lembas bread, and–”

“Zeruel meat, $20”

Aaron hastily pressed the “Add to Cart” button, uncaring if it's a scam or not. He continued browsing all the snacks sold in this new world, forgetting what he was doing before until Dennis and Damon came running into the alley. “YOU OKAY?!” Dennis yelled, the surprise of it giving his husband a flinch. “Yeah, honey, do you want to drink the blue milk from Star Wars?” Aaron said calmly. “Is Aunt Beru there?” Dennis asked, casually placing his head on his husband's shoulder to look at the phone screen, his arms wrapped around his neck, but like, in a loving and non-strangling way, you know how, placing a kiss onto his cheek.

“Hey guys, I have bread at my house. It expires tomorrow, so I'd recommend eating it if you want :)” Damon suggested. However, his voice was too quiet for them to hear it and they continued doing gross couple stuff like holding hands and premarital eye contact. Ew. “Now about that cannibal rat…” Dennis retracted his arms from around Aaron's neck, his hand still lightly wrapped around the other’s shoulder. He placed himself in front of the shorter man, close enough for Aaron to smell his stinky-ass breath that reeked of ranch dressing. Dennis smiled softly, waiting for an answer. “cannibal what now” Damon asked to himself.

“That can wait,” Aaron replied, his arms slowly wrapping around Dennis. “I dunno, guys, what if you're kissing and stuff, and then we all die or something,” Damon interrupted the couple's flirting. “When the hell did you– Uh, yeah, okay, let's, um, take care of that first,” Aaron said, only now noticing the boy's presence. “Hell yeah! Let's kill some rats!” Dennis yelled exuberantly. “Capture, Denny, don't kill anything,” Aaron corrected. “That's literally the first thing I taught you about the pet shop thing, honey,” Dennis looked down in shame and disappointment.

The trio went further into the alleyway, staying close to each other in case anything happened. “Wouldn't it be funny as hell if, like, it turned out to be a fridge or something?” Damon asked. “And the fridge was full of killer snails,” Dennis added sarcastically. “Killer snails are scary, you guys don't understand,” Aaron said angrily, “Just imagine sitting at the beach and some bitch-ass cone snail runs straight at you and you die right there on the spot. That's scary as hell,” he explained. “Run. A snail. That would take five months,” Dennis questioned his co-worker, “Babe, for a vet, you have really weird and specific and unrealistic fears,”

“It's because–” Aaron argued back, his sentence cut off with another growl, this time coming from the wall on his left. “A fridge, guys, a fridge,” Damon assured. “Nah, it's a zombie bear,” Dennis said, smirking. Aaron looked around for a door, or a window, so he could investigate. “Aliens, guys, aliens,” he mumbled, finding a foggy window. “Aha!” Aaron yelled as he turned on the flashlight on his phone. “So, Damon says it's a fridge, Denny says it's killer snails and zombie bears, and I said it's an alien, right?” Aaron said smugly, knowing his vague theory is way more likely than their guesses.

He directed the light through the window, its light revealing the inside of the building. It was dusty and empty, probably built as a store room. Or a weird cult place. “Well, that's that,” Dennis said, disappointed in the truth. “Cobwebs, huh? We're all wrong, then,” Damon said sadly. “ALIEN cobwebs!! I'm right, suckers!” Aaron yelled enthusiastically.

“You sure about that? Could be normal ones. Only way to find out is to go in… ;)” Dennis said, taunting the others. “Really? We wanna know that? They're clearly aliens. Not fridges…” Damon asked, looking down. “Suuuure, man. But y’know, it could be zombie bear fridges in those cobwebs… We could be right, and Aaron's wrong…” Dennis suggested. “So, honey, if you wanna make sure you're right…” Aaron scrunched up his face in offence. “I am. Do zombie bear fridges not sound alien to you.”

“Yeah, but… Florida probably has that, yeah?” Dennis said, angering Aaron more. “You think I'm gonna rush in there to prove that I'm right? You think I'm that dumb. Den, babe, I won't go in there,” Aaron asserted. While the two was arguing, Damon, bored, just walked around them in circles. As he was dragging his feet blindly, he accidentally stepped on something hidden under dried leaves, sinking it down. “SECRET DOOR!” he yelled out excitedly.

Damon kicked apart the leaves from each other, uncovering the part of the ground. “Who the hell puts a button here?” he questioned. “Oh, what the–” the ground shook, a piece of it falling down, revealing a staircase. It was carved from stone and it looked straight out of a history book. “Uh… should we go back, or?” Dennis said, weirded out by it. “Homestuck says we shouldn't trust stairs, so,” he added. “Karkalicious, definition: Makes Terezi loco,” Damon sung. “She wants to taste something something photo, dyin’ just to know the flavour, I ain't doin’ HER NO FAVOURS, no reason just season fresh and comes and goes like seizures, I'm Karkalicious,” he mumbled. “What the fuck?” Aaron whispered.

The three stood in front of the staircase, unsure what to do. Aaron was gripping a broom, while Dennis and Damon considered making a quick pit stop at the pet shop.

* CHAPTER THREE *

The Pit Stop at the Pet Shop

Dennis had made the decision to go back to get some tools to help them, and Aaron and Damon waited in the alley.

“So, you wanna look at the stuff they're selling here?” Aaron asked, passing the time. “Sure, why not?” Damon agreed as he peeked at his new friend's phone. “Alright, what're we gonna browse? There's video games, food, clothes, weapons…” “VIDEO GAMES!!” he shouted happily. “Okay…” Aaron said as he clicked a tab.

“Doom Crossing: Eternal Horizon Solid III Dawn”

“Borderlands: The Pre-Threequel – Sir Hammerlock's Big Game Apology Video ft. Tiny Tina: The DLC”

“Overwatch 2: Please Buy This Game – $3 Super Duper Legendary Deluxe Origins Edition”

“Gun Shooting War Tanks Rockets Missiles VR Simulator 46”

“Low-Poly Art Game with Hidden Metaphors”

“Gritty Old White Men Who Are Detailed And Angry 3: This Time There's More Pores”

“Not-Subtle-At-All Metaphor for Society and Politics, As Told By A Cishet White Man, Ultra 4K HD”

“Racing But Very High Quality and Immersive and Also Like $80”

“Ah. This is basically the same.” Damon stated sadly. “Wait, what about this?” Aaron pointed to a familiar video game. “Angry Birds Seasons,” it read. They both began to cry out of nostalgia. “Maybe this world isn't so bad after all…” Damon said gratefully as Aaron downloaded the game.

Meanwhile, Dennis struggled to carry an assembled cat cage, a carrier, a bottle of water, a ball, dog toys, flea shampoo, gloves, cat and dog treats, cat and dog food, and a partridge in a pear tree at the same time. Somehow, he did, and he wobbled over to his husband and the kid, his vision completely blinded by everything he carried. “Man… Aaron's gonna be so… impressed when he sees this. I'm so friggin’… strong…” He whispered to himself as he panted.

“Holy shit, it's Angry Birds, dude,” Damon said happily. “Rock, paper, scissors, whoever wins plays,” Aaron suggested. “Nah, you go first. I'm not really sure if this is the Angry Birds Seasons normally in our world or if it's some weird clone of it.” Damon said, scratching his head. “Wonder what's Sawblade doing,”

As the sound of dry food rattling and a cat cage being dragged across the street grew louder, Aaron excitedly went to help his husband, who immediately fell on his back in tiredness at the sight of him. “Carry,” Dennis panted, closing his eyes and probably about to take a nap. “Why'd you bring toys and treats?” Aaron asked honestly. “Just in case the little guy's angry,” Dennis explained badly. “It could be a zombie or whatever, you know… I'm pretty sure that growl didn't come from an ‘angry little guy,’ dude,” Damon argued.

“Well, okay. Who's going down first?” Aaron asked, making a face that was a combination of scared and taunting. “Uh, I'm like, a minor, and could die, so it's kind of illegal if I go first. Like, I'm all endangered and stuff. Yeah,” Damon stated. “I have scoliosis,” Dennis blurted out, giving Aaron puppy dog eyes. “I could trip and fall and die,” he added, nodding slowly while still maintaining eye contact. “I ate a doughnut for breakfast today, so I'm pretty full; if I go first, I'll just slow you guys down,” Aaron said. “Wolves do that. The slowest and oldest ones go in front so they don't get left behind,” Dennis replied with a smile. “Uh, my leg hurts a lot, I can't go downstairs,” Aaron added. “How about you roll down? It's a much more fun solution :)” Damon replied back, really not wanting to be the first one.

“Fine, we'll do rock paper scissors, then,” Dennis suggested impatiently. “There's three of us, it'll probably take a long time,” Aaron said, tilting his head and looking away from his husband's demanding glare. “Oh, lat tali lat,” Damon said casually, confusing the two. “Huh?” “Shooooot. Um, well basically, where I'm from, there's this game where it's like rock paper scissors, but it's for more than two people,” Damon explained in a very complicated manner, clearly wanting the situation to drag on longer.

After explaining how the game works, the trio finally came to a conclusion on the sequence they enter in– first, Dennis, then Damon, and Aaron behind them. “Oh. So who's carrying the luggage?” Dennis asked to Damon and Aaron. “Do we really need to bring that big ass cage?” Aaron asked. “Like, how the hell are we supposed to bring it down there? Just kick it downstairs and run?” Dennis thought for a bit. “Um, yeah.” “Oh, good idea, you can check for traps and stuff,” Damon agreed.

“A: What about the food? What if this alien–”

“D: No one said it was an alien except for you.”

“A: Fine, this zombie bear–”

“d: – Killer snails in fridges,”

“A: THIS THING, THIS ALIEN THING,”

“D: Ok”

“A: You think it eats kibbles? Little seafood delight kibbles?”

“D: Uh…”

“A: Maybe some of those chicken flavored ones?”

“D: I guess…”

“A: Huh?”

“d: Yeah, why'd you bring dry food?”

“D: Because if I brought wet food, I'd have to bring a plate and stuff.”

“A: Or, you know, just serve it in the can it was in,”

“D: What if it hates the texture or whatever?”

“Aliens probably like crunchy food better.”

“I like crunchy food better than… like, mashed-up meat drenched in some weird liquid. Aliens are like that too.”

“d: Good point, dude,”

“A: Hm. Yeah, can't disagree with that, man.”

“D: See? This is because I was kin with Megamind back in middle school,”

“A: That– okay.”

“D: Yeah. Take that, bitch.”

“Hell yeah.”

“d: So Megamind likes catnip too? We're bringing catnip downstairs?”

“D: That's to make him all chill and stuff.”

“A: Chew toys? Bouncy balls?”

“D: That's if there's guard dogs.”

“d: Oh, and the crab treats are for Jessica, only child, Illinois, Chicago?”

“D: Yeah…”

“A: You really brought everything from the shop, huh?”

“D: Yup! Except cat beds, leashes, collars, custom collars, microchip trackers, heat lamps, cat litter, litter boxes…”

“A: Okay, well just enough for this, then,”

“D: Yeah!”

“d: What if they're lizards, and they're too cold?”

“D: … Shiiiit.”

“A: Aliens aren't– Oh damn, you're right,”

“d: Well, let's just hope I'm not,”

“I don't want them to shit everywhere or whatever, man.”

“D: What.”

“d: This one time in kindergarten, my teacher brought in her iguana and it was shitting all over my desk. My poor, poor, desk.”

“A: Um? How?”

“d: I dunno. Just did. Like, splat, bitch, fuck you,”

“Wait, oops, sorry,”

“D: That's very sad.”

“d: Yeah. Thanks,”

“…”

“d: So are we going in or what?”

“D: No”

“A: dennis.”

“D: do i still have to be first”

“d: DUH”

“D: FIIIIINE OKKKAAAAAY”

“D: this is like that one anime with the big guys”

“the one thats pretty racist”

The three finally went downstairs in the order they agreed upon, and their discovery will be told…

In the next part.

—

still reading this? loser

—

??????? go do smth else

—

...

—

helloooo get outtttt

—

hey? you're reading this?

hisoillu is fucking canon

and Fuck parigings. if future me is reading this i really hope ur not pouring your heart out for the rat and the pig men. Really , Dude , Really .

nah jk if they g/y , they ok

unless its weird.

n e ways next part coming soon ,

uhhhh written by rocco wulfram cyaaaa

[okgrumps-blog]

The Best and the Worst of You

Chapter 5: Princess Arin

AO3 link | Read Chapter 1 | more

Dan gawked at the looming tower above him, mouth wide open. How the fuck was he supposed to get up there? Hands on his hips, he huffed, staring up at the double-door window at the very top. He figured who was up there already; bringing two hands to either side of his mouth, he dragged in a deep breath and yelled.

“ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!” He called up to the top of the tower, using all of his strength. He gasped for a breath afterwards, staring hopefully up at the top of the tower. He waited patiently, but to no avail. He sighed and fell onto the grass, crossing his legs with a huff. Meeting this Arin seemed hopeless - he was never going to hear him from down where he was. He picked at the grass by his feet, sulking.

Arin and Dan had been dating for just over a week now, and there had been no funny incidents - Arin hadn’t met any other Dans, and Dan hadn’t met a ‘bad’ Arin, so to speak. But now there was dread in his stomach - what if he didn’t meet Arin at all during this period? Would the universe turn against him, and keep him there forever? Would he never be able to visit another dimension ever again? The thought panicked him, as he brought his hands up to his hair and tugged gently with a stressful groan.

“Who the fuck is there?!” A grumpy voice called from the top of the tower. Dan immediately stood up with a bedazzled grin. Peering out from the window was an Arin dressed in a Peach-esque pink dress with a small golden tiara. Dan felt a massive grin spread across his face - God, Arin was adorable. He waved up at Arin with big motions, Arin looking down at him in utter confusion. “Who are you?!”

“I’m Dan, Dan Avidan!” Dan yelled with a big smile. Arin crossed his arms and gave a little ‘hmph!’ noise, turning his head away.

“Sorry, I don’t talk to strangers.” He defied. Dan just rolled his eyes, holding his arms out to Arin and beckoning him down. Arin glanced at Dan and gasped dramatically. “I’m not jumping down there, you sick fuck!” Arin exclaimed. Dan nearly burst into laughter, shaking his head.

“I don’t mean jump! Can’t you- aren’t there stairs or something?” Dan frowned, walking around the base of the tower. Arin thought for a moment.

“Why should I even come down there? How do I know you’re not one of those stupid knights who just wants to touch my ass?” Arin raised an eyebrow at Dan. Dan’s mouth fell wide open.

“I don’t want to meet you just so I can touch your ass! I want to meet you ‘cos you’re really pretty, and I travelled from so far away to get here.” Dan pouted. “I’m… I’m a dimension-traveller.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes. The moment the words had escaped Dan’s mouth, Arin had left the window. Dan waited patiently, curious as to how Arin was going to get himself down from the tower. A few moments later, Arin reappeared and threw a long string of blankets out of the window, all tied together. Dan watched in awe as the blankets slowly began to trail to the floor. Once they reached the floor, Arin popped his head out of the window to check, but he didn’t move any further. Dan tilted his head in confusion. Wasn’t he going to come down?

“Do you expect me to climb down this raggedy thing in a dress?!” Arin looked shocked. “You’re unbelievable. Get the fuck up here.” He tsked. Dan, seemingly already head-over-heels for the princess, hurried to the blanket rope and began climbing.

It took him a good fifteen minutes, with him nearly falling down halfway up (which was terrifying, Dan had to admit), but he was finally climbing through the window into the tower. He immediately found himself in a bedroom with bright pink walls, decorated with cute items and a large queen-sized pink bed. Arin sheepishly watched Dan as he walked inside, a shy smile across his face.

“This is the first time I’ve had a boy in my bedroom before…” Arin said softly, going over to his bed and smoothing out one of the wrinkles on the duvet. Dan watched him, endeared.

“Well then.” Dan smiled. “I better make it the best time then, huh?”

“And you seriously didn’t fuck? After all of that?!” Arin was in hysterics. Dan laughed along with him, shaking his head.

“No way, dude! We just… chilled out and had a tea party.” Dan shrugged. They were cuddled up on Dan’s bed together, snuggled under the covers. Arin looked amazed by it all, as always.

“A tea party?! That’s so cool! Can we have a tea party or some shit?” He asked excitedly. Dan just chuckled and held Arin close.

“Of course, Ar.” Dan rubbed Arin’s back. ‘You can even come in full princess attire, if you so wish.” He grinned and pressed a kiss to Arin’s forehead. Arin whined and looked up at Dan.

“Do you think I’d look good in a dress?” Arin asked curiously. Dan couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Arin, I just saw you in a dress. And the answer is yes. A hundred times yes.” Arin shuffled upwards to kiss Dan properly, smiling giddily as he snuggled into Dan’s chest.

“What are your thoughts on death?” Arin asked, out of the blue, during their recording session the following day. Dan quickly turned his head to stare at Arin.

“Woah, buddy.” Dan said softly. “You good there?” He asked, watching Arin with concern. Arin seemed unbothered, continuing to play the game. He shrugged, not looking away from the screen.

In all honesty, Arin had been thinking way too much about what the other-dimensional Dan had said to him before he left abruptly.

“You know yourself better than anyone else. So, you should know whether shit’s being pulled from you or not.”

Arin had never thought of himself as actually depressed. He got angry sometimes, and he got sad sometimes - that was a normal thing, right? But sometimes he got so upset to the point where it blinded everything good in the world. Where he’d ignore his friends, and he’d wonder why he was even on this earth, and… Arin hadn’t had a moment like that in forever. And the only person to help him through shit like that was Suzy. He was scared of feeling like that again - but after the conversation with other-dimensional Dan, a switch flicked inside of him, and the thoughts were starting to come back. It infuriated him - he knew people loved him, and he knew he had some kind of purpose. He could never find the answers he needed, though.

“It’s just- it’s weird, right?” Arin stopped playing the game momentarily, looking at Dan. “We’re like… born to die.” He nodded. Dan opened his mouth to say something, then immediately closed it, turning back to see the TV.

“Yeah- I mean, when you look at it like that, yeah.” He agreed. “But sometimes? Sometimes you have to be a little more positive about life. You can’t spend your whole life waiting to die. It’s a dark place, trust me.” He huffed softly, looking down. Arin looked down as well, both of them having stopped playing the game. “We’re all gonna die, yeah. But we’ve got tonnes of shit to do before then.” He shot a glance at Arin, who seemed to understand, curling himself up closer to Dan.

“Tonnes of shits to have as well.” Arin added with a quiet chuckle. Dan let out a mighty laugh, nudging Arin playfully and beginning to play the game again.

“Oh my God, of course.” Dan smiled. He had no idea what made Arin bring something like that up, and it worried him slightly. But things seemed okay right now, and that’s what really mattered - living in the moment.

Cuddled close to each other, the two of them finished their recording session with ease.

[knownonsense8]

You Opened My Eyes (but Mostly My Heart) Chapter 1

Tumblr post requested by alteranima :)

Summary:

She is just discovering her emotions, just learning what it is to love and be loved, when he's torn away from her.

Kuze, the key to everything is killed, but she's not content to let him go.

She will find him.

_________________

A story about the growing bonds between family and friends, and one woman's determination not to let love go. 2017 Live Action Film compliant.

Motoko Kusanagi/Hideo Kuze

Author’s Note:

There's so much controversy surrounding the movie, but I've decided that I think it really needs more love. It was a gorgeous film visually, and I found the scenes between Motoko and her mother as well as Kuze to be quite intensely emotional and they really resonated with me. They inspired this fic and while it will be mostly movie canon compliant (especially this chapter) it will diverge and become it's own story. I should not have to say this, but MOVIE SPOILERS AHEAD. If you have not seen the movie or don't want to know what happens, don't say I didn't warn you. This is unedited (for the moment), so I apologize for any mistakes/errors. Please enjoy! :)

Chapter 1

*

It’s so colorful here in the city.

There are holograms, adverts, models, the inhuman – all littering the streets everywhere. People of all different shapes, sizes, colors and enhancements don’t bat an eye as she walks by.

For her though, it’s her first time witnessing such culture after waking up in a new world and like a child, her eyes are filled with wonderment at it all.

She touches a store window, fingertips meeting glass as she gazes at the wares - moving fingers and clicking gears - when Doctor Ouelet places a hand on her arm.

“Mira, observe only. We’re not here to play.”

Right. They weren’t there to play.

That doesn't stop her from enjoying her view of the world, one first and last time.

*

It doesn’t take long for her to become disenchanted with the sights. She is sent on mission upon mission, exposed to the slums and lower class of society.

Too quickly the veil is torn from her eyes and it reveals nothing good.

Only bloodshed, pain, and death.

People are corrupt. People are also kind. She's learned this over the past year.

Mira knows her purpose: to protect the innocent, to destroy the evil.

Back then it never occurred to her, not even once, that she might not have known the difference between the two.

*

Her division, Section 9, is something…something new to her.

It niggles in the back of her mind, the feelings they inspire, and it bothers her that she can’t quite give the sensation a name.

She admires Togusa’s practicality, his intelligence - his self-preserving instinct because unlike her, he needs it.

She respects Chief Aramaki. He is tough but also wise, and not blind to the reality of what fates can befall the innocent. He’s a good leader and exactly what their team needs.

Batou…what can she say for him? He’s annoying and he's stupid. He’s like a puppy - always nipping irreverently and tugging on his leash - (where did that come from?) yet even still, she trusts him.

She trusts all of them, somehow.

Even when the aggravate her, tease her, or fail to properly execute their duties, she doesn’t loathe them. For some inexplicable reason, she never has the desire to hurt them in any way, shape or form - or even to leave them. Sometimes she even likes their company.

Not that she’d ever tell that to Batou.

But why?

Why does she have an…interest in their lives?

They’re her co-workers. Their relationship is (should be) impersonal.

If she was ordered to terminate them though, would she?

...No. Not unless her superiors gave her a very good reason to.

Huh.

She hopes that one day, she’ll discover the logic behind this irrationality. Hopefully it’s not a glitch.

She doesn’t want to let this feeling go.

(Let them go.)

*

It's her latest mission and already things are going poorly. She's defied orders and she's too late to rescue anyone now, but her job here's not yet finished.

In fact, it's just getting started.

Her gun rests just inches from the Geisha's face, threatening and ready to be used at just the slightest hint of provocation.

"Tell me who sent you," she demands, and the Geisha scuttles backwards.

"Help me, please," its robotic voice contorts, dual tones too high and too deep all at once. "Don't let me die."

Her gun wavers. Am I like that? She steadies it.

"Help me, please."

"Speak!" She shouts, and then the Geisha's voice lowers ominously, playing back a recording and a message.

"Collaborate with Hanka Robotics and be destroyed."

Its face opens with a hissing screech, glistening pearly skin lifting to reveal the horrifying workings underneath.

Without a second thought she shoots five bullets from her gun straight into its head. It stumbles backwards, falling to the ground with a metallic clack, and she exhales a harsh breath.

When she's sure it's dead she peers at it closely, at the gears and wires that make up its face.

She looks down at her own hand where her skin is scorched, her insides exposed to the air.

They're not so different.

"Come on, you're not the same. You're not like her, Major," Batou says once he arrives on scene to find her standing in the same spot, gazing perturbedly at the Geisha with a furrow between her brows. He rests a hand on her shoulder but she brushes him off, coolly walking away and reverting her body setting to invisibility.

Internally, she's seething.

What would he know?

He's human.

He wouldn't understand.

*

It’s swelling, bubbling to the surface and building within her - the anger and dissatisfaction with her position in life.

She wants to remember her origins so badly, to feel her path, to know the people who once connected her to the rest of the universe. Without her memories she has nothing now, nothing of her own - except for her job.

No personal relationships.

There’s a key to her past, she knows. It might be in those glitches - in fact, it’s definitely in them.

The problem is, they scare her.

Whenever she sees the distorted flames, the static shaking and the image of that same, dirtied shrine, she fears.

Fears that the glitches mean something within her is failing. That they mean she can’t complete her one purpose (her one connection to the world - reason to live). More than anything else though, she fears what she might find.

She knows what they told her. How her parents died, their ship sunk by terrorists.

What she doesn’t know is if they loved her. If she loved them.

In those kinds of relationships, you’re supposed to aren’t you?

Somehow, she feels in her heart that is the truth. That somewhere, she was loved.

However the fog in her mind is deep, dark, and underneath it she senses so much pain.

So she accepts it, what they tell her, even though it doesn’t feel quite right. There’s something more to it, and she’ll discover it one day.

When she’s feeling braver.

*

Kuze is a sinister, looming storm cloud; a menace, clogging up the horizon and standing as an obstacle in her path. He’s dangerous, he needs to be eliminated, and there’s nothing personal there.

He’s evil.

That’s all there is to it.

*

The prostitute on the side of the road is human, she can tell, though she is not without her own slight enhancements. Is she beautiful? Probably. She wouldn't know - she's never thought much of beauty.

The woman's cheeks are freckled, her skin a light caramel-brown and hair close-cropped to her scalp. Glittering patches of gold adorn her face, though she peels them off at her request, setting them down beside her gingerly.

Sitting here, kneeling in front of her in a private room, she can only gaze upon this human body with wonder, awe. For these few moments, that body is hers alone to explore. She stretches out a hand, ghosts fingers along a cheek and presses them down into one, soft lip. She moves one around, curious, and asks, “How does it feel?”

How does it feel to be human, alive and breathing in your own, God-given body?

“It feels different,” her companion replies and she nods. It must.

Here, alone with a person society deems dirt, she suddenly feels more human, more in control of her life than she has in all her past year of waking up.

Here with that person, she looks at her and sees someone beautiful.

She leans in and slots her lips against hers.

They kiss.

*

“I had a dog,” she tells Batou as they drive, the image hazy but there of a floppy-eared beagle not dissimilar to Gabriel.

She doesn’t know why she tells him this.

“Huh. Color me surprised.” Batou says, and she quirks a single eyebrow at him questioningly.

“I had you down as more of a cat person.”

*

When she sees the bomb, hears its ominous tick and spies the faint, red glow emitting from it, there’s only one thought roaring past the blood rushing though her ears.

I have to protect Batou.

She leaps in front of him, hurls her body before his to protect him from the blast, though she doesn’t know if even that will be enough to save his fragile, too-human frame.

The flames explode, white and orange the sole colors raging across her vision as they envelope her, and then there’s the terrifying sensation of melting.

All she feels though, with Batou cradled in her arms and the very real prospect of death surrounding her, is relief.

Batou is breathing.

Her vision turns black and she cannot bring herself to fear.

*

The room is white; the people clad in red, and the machine a tickling sensation against her senseless corpse. It repairs her, fixes her, and she wonders if next time, maybe she can withstand that blast.

Next time, maybe they could instill greater protection into her skin. She could walk through the flames, find Kuze, take him off guard and

“Mira,”

It’s Doctor Ouelet.

“You have to take better care of yourself. You’re a living, breathing human being. You are not a machine.”

Am I not? She thinks.

Why does everyone – Doctor Ouelet, Chief Aramaki, and Batou – keep telling her that she should care for her wellbeing? Why does it matter?

Shouldn’t she prioritize the cause, the goal, you know, protecting other people, above all else?

What other reason is there for her to live? She just doesn’t have time to waste on self-preservation.

None of them understand. None of them seem to get it.

She’s not one of them. She’s not like them.

They have hopes, dreams, families.

She’s just wires and plugs, a brain floating around in a corpse.

It doesn’t matter if she dies. It only matters if she saves lives, like she just did…with Batou.

Batou…

Will he be all right?

Who is she kidding, of course he will be. He’s Batou.

He’s always okay.

*

The man she's interrogating is disgusting but pitiable.

Wires connect to the sides of his face, he wears a yellow jumpsuit, and at the back of his skull rests a rank, stringy mess of a bun. Tears and spit accumulate on his chin and his eyes are bloodshot, his every feature reeking of devastation.

Although his gaze is clear, eyes wide open and urgent in their earnesty, he is blind, sightless in the face of the reality that lies before him.

The reality that the life he thinks he's living isn't real, it's a lie, and that he's never going to return home to a daughter or a wife who never even existed in the first place.

She would have sympathy for him, really, if only he hadn't tried to murder Doctor Ouelet.

(and almost succeeded).

Her expression hardens and her hologram within the cells dissolves, her mind returning to her body. She backs away from the cell, though her gaze never strays from the prisoner.

"His memory's gone. He won't tell us anything," she says to the rest of her team, and from their various positions around the room they look troubled.

"How can someone's memory be wiped completely?" Batou asks in disbelief, and Togusa responds.

"He's been cyber-hacked, a new reality implanted in his mind. What I don't understand is how...there's nothing here on his data drives. They're totally empty."

They sound bewildered, and because of that they're not watching.

All of a sudden, the prisoner goes slack, his features re-aligning themselves from ruined and desecrate to calm and collected. His posture straightens, and the slightest of smirks widens his lips. He stares at her unblinkingly, eyes intent and beckoning, and it only takes her a moment to make the decision to answer his call.

She marches up to the glass, cutting Togusa off mid-sentence as the prisoner watches, the edges of his mouth twisting upward mockingly.

"He's here."

They all snap to attention.

"That's impossible, we're in a secure cell," Togusa denies, but he and Ladriya are already rapidly scanning their data.

"Quick, get a read on his location!"

She opens the door, her foot just touching tile when Chief Aramaki's voice makes her pause. "We don't know what he's capable of."

His voice is rough, a warning, and she nods, steeling herself for the possibilities that flash across her mind. She steps inside.

Immediately, she finds herself standing toe to toe with the prisoner (Kuze). He smiles at her serenely, looking all too satisfied with himself, as if she's just pleased him greatly.

It's irksome.

"Collaborate with Hanka Robotics and be destroyed," he says, assuring her with his voice that he is exactly who she thinks he is. Her eyes narrow into slits.

"Come here," he demands, and she can practically feel the agitation radiating off her team as she acquiesces to his request. They're so close now, nose tips almost touching with their proximity.

"Who are you," she growls, and of course he would answer in riddles.

"I am that which you seek to destroy. I have lived many lives in many different bodies, but in this life, you would know me as Kuze."

"I will find you," she tells him, and he barks out a short laugh, exhaled breath fanning over her face. He focuses on her intently, stressing the importance of his answer.

"Not yet. I'm not finished here yet."

Then he breaks out in a teasing smile.

"I'm shy. I'm not as beautiful as you are. I'm broken." Although his tone is light, jovial even, there's something almost too honest about his words. She shivers, yearning to ask him why, why do his words seem to ring too true, to resonate in her, when his entire demeanor shifts.

He blinks, recollecting himself, and then his shoulders are slumping, his eyes rolling back into his head as master abandons his puppet.

"We've got a reading on him. We know where he is!" Togusa shouts, and for a moment, she mourns the loss of their conversation. Then they're all grabbing their weapons, springing into action, and it's quickly overtaken by triumph at unearthing his location.

Behind them, the prisoner convulses within his cell, choking to death.

*

She feels fear now – fear for her life – crippling and intense and far too real.

She’s tied to a machine, which in turn, is connected to the mass accumulation of data acquired by her captor. It’s plugged into her systems, and all her knowledge, her life, is on the line, exposed to this villainous piece of shit.

But he’s not - she realizes - what he seems.

Kuze is a mish-mash of broken parts, sullied and cracked by a harsh life with no doctor visits to repair him. He has bullet wounds littering his torso and skin breaking apart at the seams.

It’s apparent he’s lived a tough life through the resourcefulness of his body, having evidently upgraded it on his own. He looks like scum, like dirt, and he’s covered in grime, but she’s not one to judge. To her, he’s simply the target.

Until he’s not.

While she’s shaking, trembling with fear, with anger, and trying to think of anything, anything to While she’s shaking, trembling with fear, with anger, and trying to think of anything, anything to break free, he touches her face almost too gently. He peels back her skin to expose what lies beneath and it…it hurts.

She feels naked, bare.

Vulnerable.

And that's when he starts talking.

Kuze is, according to himself, like her. But that’s impossible.

“No,” he says, "Everything they told you was a lie.”

There were 98 people before her. 99 including him who were stripped from their bodies, their brains implanted into new, entirely cybernetic frames. People whose lives and memories were stolen from them by Hanka Robotics for the sake of an experiment.

"Collaborate with Hanka Robotics and be destroyed," his message had said. It makes sense now he's been after revenge.

She is not the first of her kind.

She is the first surviving...test subject.

And not even that.

He is.

“Don’t take your next dose of pills. They block your memory,” he tells her, and her mind is going a million miles an hour. Suddenly, she believes him with startling clarity, and there’s anger, there’s blankness, but mostly there’s fierce, fierce determination above it all to know the truth. He makes a convincing argument and oh, she will find evidence, but more importantly…

Could her family still be alive?

She needs to know everything. Suddenly, she has a mission so much more vital than fulfilling her original purpose. What is she? Where are the ones she loved?

Maybe…maybe he can answer.

Kuze is almost frightfully intense. He fixates on her, but not like the men who stroke her face and place a hand over her inner thigh. He calls her beautiful, but he doesn’t mean it in the same way they do.

He’s bitter.

And looking into his eyes, intimately close and with his hand cupping her back, she knows.

Knows that once, he was beautiful as her (she can see it) until he fell into disrepair. In that way, they are the same.

He hated it.

She would give anything for her old self back, she realizes, and appearances…they’ve never mattered to her before. Only to everyone else.

Kuze lets her go, and yes, she would have killed him with the rapid-fire bullets that tear instinctively from her gun, despite how her heart isn't in it. But he’s not dead and she needs answers. Two parts of her are warring for dominance – to search for her family or to pursue her cause – but for once, she will choose the answer she has never chosen before. It’s no longer a difficult decision.

She wants to find her family.

*

Doctor Ouelet is a small figure within her bed, thin and frail, swamped under the folds of her sheets. Mira stalks up to her - uncaring of her appearance and not even attempting to disguise her inhumanity - and the doctor’s fear is apparent for it.

She doesn’t care though.

She doesn’t care, shedoesn’tcare, she doesn’t care.

Doctor Ouelet lied to her. Doctor Caring, Innocent, Ouelet lied to her about everything.

Everything.

And now she owes her answers and she owes her proof.

She steps aggressively into the Doctor's space, crowding her against the wall, and keeping her facial expression unreadable - wiped of the emotions Doctor Ouelet has so often encouraged her to project.

"Mira, what are you doing. Mira please stop-" Doctor Ouelet gasps, and she sees the fear flickering in her eyes, hears the telltale waver of her voice as she tries to get Major to back down.

Her threat is not an idle one however, and that’s something they both know. She sees the feeble hope in the Doctor’s eyes as she spills the truth that Mira still sees her as innocent and won’t hurt her, but it’s pathetic.

They both know that’s not the case anymore.

Still, when Doctor Ouelet confirms everything Kuze told her and more, her world still crashes down, burns, and she feels like she’s drowning.

Yet, she’s never drowned before.

It never happened.

Her grief, sudden and unexpected is overwhelming. She doesn’t know what to do.

So she runs.

*

Out beneath the waves in the cold, black depths of sea life, it’s peaceful but lonely. There’s beauty, but like the colors in the city it’s long worn off. Life is dangerous under the sea and she revels in it.

There is nothing, no one there beside herself and for a few blank, terrifying moments in her day she can be nothing. Nobody.

That’s why when she’s lost, confused, and doesn’t know where else to go, she goes to forget.

But of course it’s Batou who would find her here. Of course.

He’s Batou.

Still, she’s on edge. There’s a tempest in her mind raging at the sky and tunneling her emotions into overdrive with anger, and she directs it all at him.

They’re colleagues, co-workers, peers - he owes her no loyalty. Will he kill her? Bring her in if those are his orders? Of course he will. It’s not like they’re friends or anything.

“You better get your ass together and shut the hell up, before I really get pissed off,” he says, and then with just a few words he gets her to unwind, to relax.

The tension falls from her shoulders and she slips further into the ship, peeling off her wetsuit.

Her posture unstiffens and she wonders.

How does he make her feel so?

She quickly brushes the thought aside. There are more important issues at hand right now.

Batou won’t turn her in, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be caught regardless. She has to get herself together.

She informs him of her situation and his brow furrows. "Will you be alright?" He asks her with concern, and she sighs, gazing over the boat's rail at the glimmering city lights shimmering across the water.

"I don't know. I don't know who I can trust."

He nods, biting his lip as they fall into a comfortable silence.

Before he leaves, Batou turns back to give her one last, lingering glance with his strange new eyes.

“You can trust me, right?” he asks, and it’s a loaded question.

She pauses for a moment, but really, she’s known the answer from before the moment she jumped in front of a bomb for him. She does, of course.

He’s Batou.

“I trust you,” she says, revealing to him a vulnerability, a weakness of herself, and the slight weight off her shoulders is worth it.

Batou nods, looking appeased but she can let him settle with that. She has a reputation to uphold, you know.

“That doesn't mean I like you,” she teases, and the flickering smile at the corner of his lips makes her feel warm.

He’s my friend, she thinks as she makes her way to the shore.

My only friend.

There, men armed with guns surround her and she goes willingly, knowing she can’t fight them on her own.

Thoughts of Batou linger in her mind, and she sees his eyeless face as they drug her and the world fades black.

*

Kuze is an anomaly. Kuze is a mystery, and Kuze is, perhaps, the one person she knows who she feels an innate connection with. He’s like her…but unlike her, he is cruel. She doesn’t know much of anything about him though for sure. She has to find out the truth.

Somewhere deep inside of her, something cries out in recognition. Something wants to trust him, to see him again and lean her head against his shoulder.

It’s strange.

She doesn’t know how to feel about that thought.

*

When she comes to, she’s strapped to a table, the back of her head wide open and cords plugged into her body. There’s no hope of escape - not when sedation flows through her veins and a plethora of armed forces stand watch over the room. The situation is dire, and it feels like her worst fears come to life.

They’re going to take her memory.

Please…not again.

“I am Major Mira Killian, and I do not give my consent to delete this information. I am Major Mira Killian, and I do not give my consent-“

“We never needed your consent.” Doctor Ouelet interrupts, and it hits her like a slap in the face. It hurts more than she wished it still did.

She’s known the truth now for hours. She’s had time to come to terms with it.

That doesn’t lessen the horrific reality that these people were using her, controlling her, playing with her, and she trusted them.

She trusted them.

Somewhere out in the world, she has a family. She has people she loved and who loved her. She has a place where she belongs.

They took that from her.

And this time, they’re not just going to take her memory.

They’re going to kill her.

The realization is not a calm one, and it strikes terror deep within her heart. She's gasping, struggling and convulsing, frantically searching for an escape route where none exists. Doctor Ouelet looks clinical, emotionless, even less so than usual, and no, no, please, no

Not when she’s so close.

This is it, poison is being injected into her bloodstream and she’s going to die here, strapped to a table, sedated, and having lived a worthless life as a tool.

A tool.

Then suddenly, Doctor Ouelet is leaning in close and whispering words into her ear. She's shoving a file into her hands, desperately unplugging her - detaching her from the machines - and then she’s regained control of her body.

“Run,” Doctor Ouelet tells her, and no no, she can’t just leave her here to die

“Go!” Doctor Ouelet shouts, and that’s when she realizes that this is this woman’s last wish. She is not innocent, but maybe she can atone for her crimes through helping her now.

She runs.

*

Mira (but that’s not her name, it can’t be), Major follows the address given to her by Doctor Ouelet. There’s something akin to anticipation thrumming through her veins and giving her energy, purpose.

The houses are small and there are thousands of them, arranged in a circular, spiraling formation so out of place among the skyscrapers of the city. There’s nothing familiar about them, about the laundry that hangs out to dry in front of the homes or the curving rooftops and endless stained walkways, but still, she hopes.

She hopes.

Reaching the home of her destination, she finds it to be ordinary and identical to every other of the multitude surrounding it. She wastes little time, swiftly knocking, and out from the open door slips a tabby cat that slinks past her legs. Remembering something Batou once said, “I had you down as more of a cat person,” she frowns.

It appears he was right.

The woman who answers the door is not what she expected.

She is small, her face lined but kind, and though she smiles, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Before Major can get a word in likewise, she is ushered inside, the woman asking if she wants tea and sitting her down at the table.

The house is homey, if she knows the word correctly. It’s small, it’s ordinary, it’s clean and functional, with various little knick-knacks spread throughout its interior and it…it makes her heart ache.

The little woman is smiling, pleased to see her for some reason and she wonders. Is this her mother? An aunt, a friend?

Is she even related to her at all?

The woman sits down and when she speaks, Major is immediately captivated. This woman is her, her mother.

As she tells the story of her daughter with little prompting, there’s a pain growing sharp within her chest. She hears of herself (or is it?) and the pieces fall into place, sliding together like righted parts of a puzzle, the realization everything she needs to know.

She just didn’t expect it to be this painful.

It’s not hearing about herself though, or the life she lost even that hurts the worst. It’s gazing at this short, lonely woman who pastes a smile on her face, welcomes a stranger into her home and tells them her story, simply because they have a similar look in their eyes to the one her daughter once had. There’s so much pain, so much sadness in her expression, but she keeps on hoping, keeps on living and rising to face each new day.

It’s so, so sad.

“What was her name?” she asks of her daughter, and when the woman answers it rings so true to her heart, her mind, that she has to get out, get out now.

“Motoko.”

Motoko Motoko Motoko.

She is Motoko. She was Motoko.

And this woman, this lady is her mother. She is the person who brought her into this world, the person who cared for her (and still does) enough to be grieving and hollow after more than a year past her death.

Her throat is heavy, eyes burning as her mother says, "You remind me of her."

"I don't remind you of her," she rasps, lip wobbling, and something inside of her feeling like it's about to burst.

"Who are you?" Her mother whispers, voice trembling perceptibly with the dawnings of an epiphany on the horizon.

She inhales sharply.

It’s too much to take in and she needs to do something, do something useful, instead of sit here sedately and listen to another heartbreaking word. She gets up and pushes her chair aside.

“Wait!” her mother cries as she leaves the table, going to the door. She pauses, hand hovering over the handle, waiting for one more moment, because there’s something pleading, a wistful longing inside her heart that just wants to hear her mother’s voice again.

Her gentle, accented, all too loving voice.

“Will you come back to visit me? Please?” Her mother asks, and oh, she shouldn’t have to answer that.

Of course she will.

“Yes,” she says before she leaves. Before she runs, runs away from the only home she’s ever known but the one she can’t remember.

She leaves to end things, to discover more so that eventually…

She can come back.

And stay back.

*

She calls Chief Aramaki on the bridge, phone held loosely to her ear as she tries to blend in with the crowd. It’s such a relief to hear his familiar voice - the sound of someone who isn’t willfully trying to hide anything from her. She trusts him, him and Batou, and they can help each other. She tells him the truth.

“Can you prove it?” he asks her, and no…no she can't. She doesn’t have any evidence, not beside her own gut instinct and feeble memories.

“I’ll find proof,” she says determinedly, and she knows what she needs to do. She needs to find Kuze, the only one who can divulge all the facts. But here’s another thing: she wants to find him.

“Stay safe,” Chief Aramaki implores and she hangs up.

This is it.

*

She knows where to go and her feet carry her there, the knowledge carved into them like something from a dream. They carry her deeper and deeper into the city, yet also farther and farther away from the technology she’s grown so accustomed to. They carry her until the sun goes down and she reaches cobbled stone in a place that by now she knows all too well.

The burnt shrine.

It’s a risk coming here, letting her signal loose to the world. It’s the only way she can be found by either side however, and she’s certain that both will indeed come. Hopefully her gamble will pay off and she’ll have the time she needs to set things straight with Kuze.

Stepping inside feels like confronting all of her fears, but she’s no longer afraid. Here in this place, as her glitches have been trying to tell her, is her past. Here is where everything began and now where it all will end. The acrid tang of smoke - thick in the air despite how long it's been embraces her like a welcome home. Her hand strokes the wall as she waits for Kuze.

Waits.

Then he’s there, and she feels clogged with emotion to know that they had been in this very place together before.

He’s not dirt to her any longer, nor is he a target. He’s…he’s beautiful, but in such a different way than the prostitute she had kissed out on the streets.

He’s similar to her in so many aspects, and when she looks at him she sees herself, but more than that, she’s sees her past, and in it…

In it there was love.

“We were like a family,” she murmurs softly, her mind, her memory, the ghost of her old self telling her that is the truth. There were so many of them, a group of people united by their beliefs and shared segregation. They were in it together from start to finish, united by so much, and yet now, there’s only the two of them left.

"We had nothing...nothing except each other," she continues, stepping closer to him.

Kuze looks up, his eyes wide, looking so, so open, and then she’s struck suddenly, peering at the wall and tracing his name, just who’s been with her all along.

“Hideo?” She whispers, and when he stops, eyes widening even further and then looks at her with such incredible tenderness, affection, her world begins to repair itself, slotting together with its undeniable rightness.

“Mo-Motoko?” He breathes hesitantly, his robotic voice stuttering on her name, and then they’re both striding forward, gripping each other’s forearms and staring into one another’s eyes. His irises are a pale blue now in color, his features sharper, unfamiliar, but the way he holds her, the desperation in his features and the affection churning in his eyes, all bring back memories of the fiery, determined boy who stayed with her for many a cold night in this very shrine.

Even now, parted for so long and with every aspect of their bodies different, they can still see each other.

Tears shine in his eyes, reflected in her own too, and they’re leaning forward, pressing together with more emotion than she’s ever felt.

This feeling, this heartbeat, it’s called love.

“We’ll evolve beyond them, beyond humans. It was what we were made to do,” he’s telling her as she tilts her head up, tugging him closer and feeling him do the same, yearning to cry with everything that she feels. “Come with me,” he says, and oh, oh she wants to. For once in her life, she wants to lean on someone else’s shoulders and share their world.

But she can’t. Not yet.

“I’m not ready to go yet,” she reveals to him, and there’s pained acceptance in his features but acceptance nonetheless, and it feels so, so good. He gazes down at her and she up at him, and their mutual understanding is the most beautiful thing in the world, the two of them connected by their past lives and now by their present. She smiles, he does back, and it’s so wonderfully genuine despite the burning in her eyes.

They're orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer and closer together

That’s when it all goes to hell.

*

“NO!” she shouts hoarsely when Kuze is flung into the air, his body twisting and contorting, then slamming into the wall where he collapses against it motionless. She immediately leaps into action, grabbing her gun, and attacking the awful, horrid Spider Tank that has ambushed them - no doubt on Cutter's orders.

It scuttles on the ground, firing repeating shots at her, but she doesn’t let it get a clear hit. She keeps moving, keeps shooting, and she knows that this, this battle is the most important fight of her life.

She finally has something (someone) to fight for. She’s fighting for herself now, for her mother and Hideo.

This thing is going down.

Aw shit.

She’s too slow. For just a second, she’s paused long enough for the Spider Tank to lock onto her as a target and she pays for it. The explosion hurls her into the air, and she hears more than sees Kuze’s desperate shout of “No!”

At least it tells her he’s still alive.

As the spider scuttles forward, shifting ever closer to him, she lies immobile on the ground, feeling burns sizzle across her skin and the light-headedness that comes with being injured. Her state is not as bad as she would have expected however, and it seems that Doctor Ouelet did her one more good thing.

Last time she exploded, it appears her skin got a fire upgrade.

It’s excruciatingly difficult to move with the damage she’s attained, but she forces herself to rise. On her feet, she sees the Spider tank pointing its gun directly at Kuze’s face, aligned with his forehead and at point-blank range. It’s about to shoot him, to kill him, but she can’t let it do that, let him die, even if it means tearing herself apart.

She leaps forward, landing on the tank’s back, and immediately its attention is diverted to her. It swings around and she screams in pain, gripping it with all her strength and not letting go - ripping and tearing at it furiously. It’s stomping, shaking the ground with the force of its struggle, but no matter the warning messages that flash across her vision or the beeps alerting her of the fact that she is pushing her body way, way too far, she refuses to let go.

Her muscles are bulging, expanding with the strain put on them, and it hurts, hurts more than anything she’s experienced in her life. But this is nothing, nothing compared to how it would feel to lose Hideo or her mother again.

She pulls.

Her skin bursts, her muscles tear, and as the tank is torn apart - ripped through its very core - her arm is torn with it. She’s shrieking in agony as she collapses to the ground, but it’s done, it’s dead, and oh, thank god.

She lies there, gazing up at the starless sky, weak, but not alone. She hears more than sees Kuze drag himself across the ground to lie beside her, his metal body scraping harshly against the stone beneath them. She turns her head and he’s missing an arm, a leg, and looks frightfully damaged, but he’s alive. His hand slides into hers and is it strange that this is the happiest moment of her remembered life?

A tired smile makes its way across his lips but suddenly she feels dread, because she knows that kind of smile. It’s the look that people get before they die, when they’ve sacrificed everything for a cause and know they can’t live on any longer.

She’s seen it in Doctor Ouelet, in

“Motoko,” he rasps, and her name is so lovely, so loved coming from him. Tears prickle at her eyes and when his fingers twine with hers she sees the imploring plea in his gaze to just listen. She nods mutely, mouth open just slightly, and then he’s telling her that he won’t truly be gone. His ghost will live on to merge with hers should she allow it, but first it'll regenerate within the network he created, and she doesn’t believe him, he needs to stop talking, to stop saying such things, please don’t die

“NO!”

Bullets slam into his head, his eyes go white, and for the first time in her remembered life, a tear slides down her cheek and she feels hot, hot rage, and a stinging grief so powerful she rises to her feet despite her wounds.

There’s guns pointing at her, snipers surrounding her from all sides and this is it, her death.

It’s over.

The first bullet is fired, whistling through the air but it’s not aimed at her – instead, it hits the chest of one of the men who topples over, slumping in a heap to the ground amidst a startled silence.

That’s when everything descends into chaos.

Suddenly, all of the snipers are going down and she spies Batou, Togusa, and Ladriya emerging from the shadows. She leaps into the fray, grabbing her gun with her good hand and shooting it as best she can.

There’s hope.

A flurry of gunshots are exchanged, the enemy barraged, and there’s the sweet, sweet relief of finally fighting the opposition on equal terms.

She can't keep it up though, not now, knowing that they are safe and that she need not fight on any longer. She falls, falls beside Kuze, colliding with the ground, where the stump of his arm brushes hers.

Soon, all of the men are dead and Batou kneels beside her, smoothing the hair back on her forehead and taking her torso gently within his arms.

"What's your name?" He asks her quietly, and tears are still slipping down her cheeks as he rushes to clarify. "Chief told me you had a name before...before you came to us. What was it?"

"Motoko," she says softly, and a tight, bittersweet smile steals across his face.

"Major's still in there though right?" He prods, and she musters the strength to answer him properly.

"I am."

"Good," he breathes, accent lilting his voice. He helps her stand, holding her upright as the last of her energy threatens to leave her and with his help, she joins the rest of the team.

Chief Aramaki calls in and it’s with the best news she’s heard all night.

He’s captured Cutter, apprehended him, and now his life rests within his hands.

Cutter is about to die.

“Major, do you give your consent?”

She feels so, so grateful to hear those words come through the comm after everything that's happened, and she nods grimly. “I am Major,” she says, because she is not Motoko, not entirely, and certainly not Mira Killian now, “and I give my consent.”

“Any last words you want him to hear?” he asks, and there’s a deep satisfaction in telling Cutter that this is justice, the simple fulfillment of her purpose. He made her to protect the innocent, to destroy the evil after all.

And with his death, that’s exactly what she’s done.

Gunshots ring across their connection and it’s like music to her ears. She slumps against Batou where he grips her shoulders tightly, but she points him to turn around, because there's one last thing she needs to do. Confusion settles over his features, but he acquiesces as she wordlessly presses a hand to his chest. He helps her limp back from where they came, and there, lying upon the ground is Kuze’s body. Slipping from Batou’s grasp, she kneels on the ground beside him and strokes his lank, dirtied locks away from his face.

His features are slack, marred by bullets, and his unclosed eyes are white, pupil-less and unseeing.

Moisture blurs her vision but she tempers her grief with the reminder of his last words. He’s still out there somewhere…his ghost, immortalized in the systems he hacked. She’ll find him again and give him a new shell.

She clasps his hand between her own, leans forward to whisper a soft “thank you,” against his cheek, and then she kisses his forehead, soft and chaste. Nodding to Batou he helps her stand, and behind them the sun rises, casting light on the burnt shrine of her memories and bringing with it the dawn of a new day.

A new life.

*

After her body’s been repaired, she's back in the good books with the government, and Section 9 is taking a few days to regroup, she does what she’s been yearning to do from the moment she discovered the truth.

Major visits her own grave, an insignificant white stone among the many other thousands laid to rest, unweathered and obviously cared for. The cemetery is huge, graves of all different colors and sizes arranged in neat, spiraling rows within a circle, and she feels something akin to peace settle over her.

She is no longer Motoko nor Mira anymore. She is something between the two, indefinable and yet both all the same. Her old self is dead, as is the one she was just days ago, yet they are still within her through the person she has become.

And now she can finally, finally be at peace for knowing the truth.

Taking a deep breath, she places a bouquet of lilies gently at the foot of her (Motoko’s) grave, and turns to leave.

It’s not surprising when the next person she'd hoped to visit appears, blocking her path and smiling that kind, perpetual smile.

She hopes her gaze conveys what she truly feels.

“You don’t have to come here anymore,” she says to her mother, and then there it is, the smile that for the first time reaches all the way to her eyes.

Her mother's eyes sparkle, glistening with tears but also with elation. “I know,” she says thickly, and Major feels herself choke up.

“How?”

“You look at me the same way she did,” her mother says, and then she’s enveloped in a hug, and she’s clinging to that small woman and burying her face in her shoulder, taller than someone else for the first time within an embrace.

She feels so loved, and oh she loves.

*

Her mother takes her home, and there they disturb the carefully protected peace of Motoko’s room. They lift the plastic from her bed, her figurines, and when that night she lays there, curled up in that small, cramped room, it’s so much more comfortable than her open, spacious one had ever been.

Waking up to the joy in her mother’s eyes and that specific niche in the world that she was born into and created for is pure, utter bliss.

She hopes it lasts forever, and if she can, she will never leave this place for the rest of her days.

Her mother is so beautiful.

*

Returning to Section 9 is not nearly as jarring as she’d expected. There’s no Doctor Ouelet anymore, nor Cutter, or any doctors constantly fussing over her really.

There’s Chief Aramaki, his team, and the people they work with.

That’s so much better.

Batou greets her with a slap on the back and an arm around her shoulder. Togusa smiles warmly and gives her a sharp nod. Ladriya yells “Hey, it's Major!” and a chorus of greetings and smiles follow her entrance into the room. Chief Aramaki has a slight quirk to his lips, but he quickly gets down to business, laying out their next case, and she feels content.

She has a name for what she feels for these people now, finally - how they helped her and how she's helped them, and it’s a simple one.

Love.

*

There’s still corruption; there’s still greed and lust and lies in the city and in the government, but it’s better these days. She’s in a position now where instead of fearing for herself and being so woefully contemplative all the time, she can focus the majority of her efforts into saving others.

She spends her days with her mother, learning how to cook and how to sew all over again. She learns what it feels like to be cared for - how to help her mother when she cries from the relief of having her daughter back, or the nightmares where she’s gone again, and of course she learns to respond to the name “Motoko."

She goes on missions with her team, helps Batou feed his dogs and teach them new tricks and isn’t so afraid to use her body anymore.

She visits that prostitute on the streets, kisses her on the lips and heads on her way, occasionally escaping to the ocean when everything gets to be too much.

Life isn’t perfect of course but she never asked for it to be. She’s happy, she’s found her place, and she could never ask for more.

She belongs here.

But there’s one thing that’s still missing.

Kuze’s body is gone, buried in the same cemetery as her own grave just as she’d demanded, but she knows his ghost is still out there somewhere all alone, waiting for her.

Major needs to find him and she knows, knows that he left her a clue behind inside herself.

She just has to find out what it is and when she does, they’ll be together again.

That’s all that matters in the end.

For now though she stands atop a building, watching the data intake ebb and flow from her processors and scanning the occupants that reside within it. Chief Aramaki sends her his approval, and then she does what she was built to do (and would do anyway these days regardless).

Major strips off her jacket, lets it fall from her shoulders to the ground by her feet, and turns so that her back faces the sky.

She falls backward, body naked and bared to the world, reverting to invisibility as the clouds spiral above her and the sun beats down below. She lands upright, balanced on the balls of her feet, gun in hand and ready to go.

It's showtime.

*

Tbc...

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Interconnect (ao3 link) - Chapter 6 Fandom: Flash, DC Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Fate has decided that Leonard Snart and Mick Rory are soulmates.

Yeah, okay, they’re good with that.

(for @coldwaveweek2017)

A/N: Instead of doing different fics for coldwave week, I decided to do one with multiple chapters, each based on the various days.

Chapter 6: Jealousy/Protectiveness

—————————————————————————————–

"How do you plead?" the court asks.

Mick glances at his lawyer, who nods.

"Not guilty, your Honor," Mick says. "By reason of curse."

He tries to sit down - his job's done at this point, unless the judge has any specific questions for him today - but the prosecutor, who'd been standing there looking smug, is squawking and the judge looks interested.

"Explain," the judge says.

"Your Honor," Mick's lawyer says, "the prosecution is correct that my client has a history of violence - specifically arson - and that the facts clearly show that he committed the actual act of murder here, but in the present instance, we're arguing that he couldn't help himself by reason of curse."

"There is no legal basis -" the prosecutor starts hotly, but the judge holds up a hand.

"What curse?"

"Soulmates, your Honor," Mick's lawyer says. "The individual in question was abusing my client's soulmate, causing him to react with excess violence."

"Soulmates," the judge echoes, frowning.

"There is some precedent, your Honor, albeit quite old," Mick's lawyer says. That's understating it - the cases they're submitting are over a hundred years old at least. "We'll be submitting them with our papers."

The judge is frowning, but he's also looking thoughtful. "Soulmates," he says again. "And his condition is certified?"

"Yes, your Honor. The certification was stamped and notarized by the hospital witch consultant that originally recognized the disorder upon his admission at age eleven -"

"How long ago was that?" the prosecutor snipes.

"- and again by the local hospital witch," Mick's lawyer continues, ignoring him, though he does add pointedly, "just last week."

Mick's moderately pleased that the restrictions on witchcraft in medical care have at least been lifted again, at least enough for the certification. Though getting and giving fortunes (and spells and curses) is still quasi-illegal...

"I'll accept it for now," the judge decides. "My sympathies to Mr. Rory. Is there anything else?"

"No, your Honor," both the prosecutor and Mick's lawyer say in unison, both rising to their feet for a moment to do so.

"Dismissed, then. I'll see you again in -" He checks his calendar. "Two weeks. Does 10:30 work for you?"

Again, a chorus of consent.

Mick walks out the side door, back to prison, but it's not long until his lawyer's scurrying out to see him. "Spoke with the prosecutor," he reports. "I think they'll give us a very favorable plea bargain, just to avoid the risk of creating new precedent that could be used by other cursed."

Mick nods. That'd been the plan all along. "And I won't have to testify?"

"For some reason," his lawyer, a very earnest Indian man named Rakesh Narayanan with a surprising capacity for subtle sarcasm, says, "I wasn't planning on letting you. Unless your position has changed from 'the bastard deserved it'?"

"Nope."

"Then no. Unless you insist - and it is ultimately up to you, I'm just your lawyer - no testifying."

"Probably for the best."

His lawyer rolls his eyes. "Tell Lenny to tell Lisa I said hi," he says. He'd been a friend of hers in school; he was pretty new at this whole defense lawyer business. "And - would it be wrong to say 'congratulations on your bereavement'?"

Mick smiles. "I'll pass it along," he promises.

He does, sitting in the van taking him back to Iron Heights.

"You're a dick," his handcuffs tell him, but Len doesn't sound displeased. "You didn't have to take the fall, you know."

"I've got a good defense," Mick points out. "And people get twitchy around people who kill members of their own family, even if it is their horribly abusive dads."

"Still..."

Mick feels a fond smile come on involuntarily. "You're mine, Lenny," he reminds him. "If I don't take care of you, who will?"

Len grumbles but agrees.

"Oh, and Len?"

"Yeah?"

"Congrats on your bereavement."

Len starts laughing. A little hysterically, but it's fine; Barry and the rest of the STAR Labs team is keeping a close eye on him while Mick gets prosecuted in his place. He's getting lots of therapy, which is good - after all, he's the one who killed Lewis, in the end, in order to protect Lisa.

Mick's just the one who burned the body.

It’s not the first or last thing he’d do for Len, taking this on his shoulders, and every time he does –

He’s proud.

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

“You know I don’t like to talk feelings often,” Len says. “But lately, I find myself compelled to discuss ‘em.”

Mick, who’d been getting out of the shower and is still only clad in a towel, freezes up and stares at Len, bug-eyed.

“Feelings,” Len says meaningfully. “Recent ones.”

“Uh,” Mick says.

“Specifically,” Len continues, “I’ve noticed that I’ve started feeling – jealous.”

“Jealous?”

Len nods.

“Of what?”

“We agreed a long time ago that jealousy was probably an undeniable part of our –” Yeah, no, Len can’t manage to say ‘relationship’. “– of what we’ve got going on. After all, we never got a chance to choose each other. We just – are. So, sometimes jealousy’s gonna be a factor.”

Mick nods, very cautiously.

“And it ain’t like it hasn’t happened before. You remember – there was that whole thing with what’s his name, Trevor?”

“Oh, right,” Mick says. “The asshole who kept creeping on you behind your back and I thought he was stalking you so I got in his face and started following him to make him stop, except then you thought I was into the guy and flipped your shit?”

“I did not,” Len says with great dignity, “flip my shit.”

“You kneecapped him.”

“He deserved it. He deliberately sabotaged the job.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know it at the time. You just took credit later because it made you seem like a genius.”

Len shrugs. Mick’s not wrong. “We’re getting away from the point,” he says.

“And the point is – jealousy,” Mick says. “Uh. Are we kneecapping someone today, boss?”

He’s clearly running through every single person he’s interacted with in the last month and coming up empty.

“No,” Len says. “We’re older and wiser than we were during the Trevor incident –”

“That was only three years ago, boss. It hasn’t been that long.”

“Regardless,” Len stresses. “I thought it’d be better to talk about it. Like the reasonable adults we are.”

Mick looks horrified. “Are you sure we can’t go with the kneecapping?” he asks hopefully.

“Not in this case.”

“If it’s because it’s me you’re mad at, we could fight it out,” Mick offers. “I’d let you beat me up.”

“I’ll have you know that if I wanted to, I could beat you up without you letting me.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” Mick says comfortingly. “But – really – does it have to be talking? About feelings?”

“I’m afraid so, Mick. This can’t be solved by anything less than that.”

Mick gulps but squares his shoulders grimly. “Okay,” he says. “Hit me.”

“Recently, I’ve been feeling that you’ve been focused on – other things. Other than me. Now, I’m not saying I’m high maintenance –”

“You are the most high maintenance,” Mick mumbles.

“Shut up, I’m talking here. I don’t need you to pay attention to me all the time. Hell, I’d probably punch you in the face if you did.”

Mick’s face is disbelieving, but Len glares at him and he nods in consent. Not agreement. Len knows the difference.

“That being said, I sometimes get jealous if I feel like you’re spending more time away from me than with me,” Len says. “If I see you putting all your focus somewhere else.”

“Do I get a name at any point here?” Mick asks.

“I’m getting there. I just want you to understand how I feel about your recent obsession, that’s all.”

“Wait,” Mick says. “Is this about the cooking class?”

“You spend all your time thinking up new things for it!” Len protests. “You’re always on the phone with your students, or with your co-workers, or trying new recipes – you’re even trying out for that stupid reality TV cooking show –”

“For the love of – that was a joke! The Great British Bake Off only takes Brits!”

“Either way, I barely see you, and –”

“You massive, massive hypocrite,” Mick says, gaping starting to turn into a grin. “You, who spends literally days on job planning? Who I have to literally pick up to take you away from your blueprints? Who I’ve had to sit on to get to go to sleep so you wouldn’t die?”

“You can go more than three days without sleep before you die,” Len grumbles. He’d never believed that study about it causing hallucinations, anyway. “I know you can. Besides, that’s our livelihood. Not some hobby.”

“My point remains: hypocrite.”

“I am not. That’s normal for me. This isn’t.”

“Awwwww, it’s okay,” Mick simpers at him. “I still love you more than my cooking class.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Len says primly.

Naturally, that’s when Mick’s eyes narrow. “And you wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t have an ulterior motive.”

Len widens his eyes innocently.

“Okay, now I’m worried. What’s your play here?”

“I can’t just want some assurances of your feelings?”

“No. Spill.”

Len resists for a few moments, but a glaring, grinning, mostly naked Mick is hard to resist.

Also, Len loves bragging about his ridiculous ideas.

“So, you know that joke you made about the reality TV show?” Len asks.

“…yeah?”

“Let’s say theoretically they were filming one in Central –”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard the pitch.”

“No!”

“Superheroes and Supervillains,” Len says with glee.

Mick hesitates. “Do any of them even know how to bake?” he asks suspiciously.

“Harley,” Len replies promptly. “But Ivy’s nagging on her about salad. But seriously, think about it – the best of the worst. All the assholes we have to deal with. Baking. Scarlet even promised to make a appearances to help eat it all.”

Mick scowls at him.

“I’m getting Mardon to compete and made him promise he’d try to fry an egg with a lightning strike.”

“Okay, fine,” Mick groans. “I give in. I’ll listen to the pitch. But I’m warning you, I am not agreeing!”

“Of course not,” Len says soothingly. “Now, as I was saying…”

He knew that softening Mick up first would work.

[theleagueofsupermushrooms]

The Villain Wrangler : Chapter One

(Before I begin I became inspired to write this because of a tumblr post/thread I came across on Pinterest and it got my creative writing brain excited . So yeah I’ll be putting their ideas into book form and hopefully create my own. So to those who created the idea of the Villain Wrangler and the universe they live in I hope my FanFiction of your post does it justice. )

My eye twitched. A Villain. They assigned me to find some Villain with, apparently, a moral code to fulfil a child’s wish. Could we even legally do that? Heroes sure but they weren’t known for killing people, still this kid deserved the wish. God knows how hard it must be to suffer from an illness that might just kill you before you get a chance to really live and for whatever reason they idolised this guy. Some masked hooligan who looked like he’d just finished co creating a costume with Lady Gaga and a bottle of glitter thrown in for fun. Shouldn’t be too hard to track the guy down.

“You have around a month so don’t mess this up like you did with that hero masked minatour” The gruff, agitated voice of my boss instructed with no hint of amusement as my co workers sniggered at the memory. Not exactly my fault he turned out to have terrible grammar and less humour than a rock, luckily for us Alexandra, miss perfect herself, managed to sway him with her charm and good looks and ability to be perfect. She was good at getting people to do her bidding like that. Not even the most prestige supers could deny her and so as you can imagine she is infuriatingly fascinating and I hate her.

“Yeah well I won’t let the kid down” I replied before letting out a sigh of relief as my boss left with all the grace of a really graceful elephant. A sigh escaped me as I got to work “Loco eh? Well let’s hope you are easy to find” and so my first job started involving villains and with Alex away she couldn’t annoy me with knowing everything and proving me wrong 24/7.

A week later and I’m sat in the same place I’ve been staking out for 5 days now. A bar filled with crooks and terrifying shady looking people of presumably varying degrees of villainy attached to them, some I recognised and some were either new or wisely stayed away from media coverage. Either way as soon as they realised I was becoming a regular to the bar they became highly amused and I swear they started taking bets on me. And considering I’m in no way attractive or interesting it’s probably on how I’ll die.

“Orange juice? Again? 5 days in a row eh?” The bartender gave the usual polite and cheery smile. Dude had multicoloured hair and did not shy away from dressing however he wanted. I admired him for it, out of everyone he was polite and seemed to be generally interested in me, not that there was much for me to tell past why I was staking the bar out.

"What can I say? I really like orange juice.“ I replied as I cleaned my glasses and gladly payed for the drink. If I hadn’t sworn to stop drinking I would legitimately be trying the cocktails here.

With a sudden burst through the door the one I was looking for strode in wearing blacks shades and all black clothing. If the bartender had not pointed him out with a dreamy look on his face and then kissed him I wouldn’t have guessed it was him at all. Still I had to admit they were cute together, guess even despicable people were luckier in love than the average law abiding citizen. Good to know. After they had finished swapping spit and looking at each other lovingly I made my move on who was apparently glitter guy. Who knew the guy could go from incredibly flamboyant and colourful to Neo from the matrix? With that I chugged down my orange juice like it was a beer and I began.

"Uhh hi uhmm you’re uhh Shock Master right?” He turned to me, as did the whole bar, and the bar tender gave me a thumbs up, “Well you see I’m from the making a wish come true and there’s this kid who really admires you and suffered a horrible accident when running away from home. We don’t know if he’ll recover and he really wants to meet you. I promise you there will be no cops or heroes.” So maybe I spoke a little quickly due to nerves but what I had not expected was laughter. Seriously? The guy was laughing? Dude was in stitches as was everyone else apart from the bar tender who was about to say something when I punched the guy who was a good foot taller than me square in the jaw so hard he was taken by surprise and fell to the floor. I mean all he had was a bruise and glasses had fallen off. If I wasn’t so angry I would have been amazed at the striking purple eye which now looked angry.

“Listen here you piece of shit, that kid ran away from most likely an abusive environment and lived on the streets. Alone. Where he did god knows what to survive and by the time someone realised he was sick and needed to go to a hospital he was informed that he probably wouldn’t survive and that kid is stronger than you’ll ever be!” I couldn’t stop my anger once it started. Since I was usually the quiet one I doubt anyone expected me to have a temper. “So don’t you dare because that kid, for whatever reason, idolises you. Is always talking about how he wished he was strong enough to be like you stand up for himself and god damn it he deserves more than your stupid laughter you complete and utter-” I squeezed my eyes shut and cut myself off. My mouth clamped shut. I was going to get nowhere by screaming in his face. And when I opened my eyes again the room was silent and he was towering over me with his glasses back on and presumably glaring. His hand, with some lovely red nail polish done rather well, caught the back of my shirt and he dragged me out to the back of the building and pushed me up against an ally way. That was it. This was how I die.

"No cops or heroes. And I won’t be able to give a specific time next week I’ll pop up but if you give your contacts to my boyfriend he’ll sort you out.“ He mumbled and my eyes widened.

"Wait really? Oh my god the kid is gonna be over the moon. Oh he loves drawing and designing clothes and is 15. He won’t tell us exactly why he ran away or what happened on the streets but at least you’ll be able to put a smile on his face” I beamed at him as his facial expression softened considerably. “We should get some ice on that though. I’ll tell you more about him inside.” As we walked in you could see the split in the room, they were taking bets for sure. Some cheered while majority groaned and handed over their money and all the Villain could do was sit down next to me and ruffle my hair.

"You got guts. If this goes off without a hitch I’ll tell others about you but if you betray me?“ The threat went without saying and I rolled my eyes as I gave the bartender my details.

"I quite like enjoy having no broken bones and containing the right amount of blood pumping around my body while using functioning organs.”

“Yeah well you continue punching people with a right hook like that and you won’t last five minutes” we both shared a smirky smile.

4 days later and I was in a room with an evil villain who was determined to make this kids life happier, his boyfriend who was equally just as excited and doing the boys hair any wacky colours he wanted and a kid who looked like he was in heaven. My heart swelled and it was at times like this where I realised staking out a bar full of guys who were betting on how long I’d live was worth it. And if two random guys just so happened to start paying for better health care for the kid as well as start inquiring about the process of adoption while looking weirdly familiar it was pure coincidence. I swear.