#i love captain Tim a normal amount

[fizzybugzz]

Rabid animal !!!!

I forget if I posted this already….. tell me if I did (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

To Catch a Thief

Featuring one Detective Tim Rockford and a certain thief

Words: 1, 985

The thief had eluded me once more, outsmarted me like a fox. I’ve been staring at the board for hours now, hoping a clue would call out to me, but nothing was popping out.

Normally, I wouldn’t give robbery my time, it just being some petty thief liberating rich assholes of their treasures. But rich assholes are loud and make one hell of a fuss about their property being stolen. I would’ve written this off as some Robin Hood type vigilante except they skipped the give-to-the-poor part.

This thief has proven a challenge to me. He’s like a flowing river; always running, being one step ahead of me, and stepping into its current would surely sweep me away, so I have to stand on the shore and hope to build a dam in time. He’s stolen from all the big-name families, no rhyme or reason to his method. No evidence: not a fingerprint or even an eyelash left behind. It’s like he’s mocking me, a spectre always behind me.

Fuck, I’m tired. I’ve been staring at this board for too long. I should take my mama’s advice and sleep on it, come back to it with fresh eyes. Driving back home, I’m running on autopilot. The darkness greets me as I open the door to my empty apartment. Not bothering to even take my shoes off, I’m out like a light as soon as my head hits the pillow.

The morning wakes me up with her horrible city noises. I slept on my bad shoulder which I regretted as soon as I moved from my slumber. Not even a scalding hot shower could each the eternal ache. It just makes the ugly scar stand out further.

Arriving at the station, I walk into a hurricane of chaos. Another robbery in the night. Once again, the thief has gone under my nose, tickling me with that feather of mockery. There was not enough cheap coffee in the world to deal with this shit storm.

“Rockford, it’s bad. The Ashford’s were hit this time.”

“What was taken?”

“All contents of their safe.”

“Don’t these people use banks anymore?”

Of course, they were making an even bigger storm in the kettle of the interview room. Priceless jewels stolen; family heirlooms gone forever. These rich snobs have all the money in the world and yet they go for the cheapest security because who would dare to steal from them? I’d never say they were asking for it, but you get what you paid for. When you pay for nothing, you end up with nothing in return. I’m sure once their insurance kicks in, they can buy new family heirlooms.

I added this case to my ever growing board and wait for another clue to call to me, but my captain was on my ass about catching this guy. His wife must be friends with these high society types. He’d always brag about the fancy parties he’d attended the night before, sipping on champagne while the rest of us have to deal with cheap instant coffee.

Sipping this cheap swill, my team formulated a plan to set a trap. The Montgomery’s were having some fancy shindig, unveiling a new work of art they purchased for some amount of money that would’ve bought be hot meals for life. Art was the first thing stolen, must’ve had a love of it before going onto things much shinier.

The whole place was swept over like a vacuum cleaner, picking up any bugs of contempt. Security cameras installed and several officers placed around the party scene, uniforms apparently being a downer in the festive atmosphere. And because my captain was attending, I also had to be on alert.

I never understood the rich lifestyle, too much spending money on things that don’t make sense. Who needs a bathroom with two bathtubs? And who enjoys the salty crap of caviar served on a cheap cracker? Give me a roof over my head and a bottle of something alcoholic to ease my pain and I’m happy.

I had to admit my heart wasn’t in it tonight, not completely on the job. I felt more of a thrill in the chase rather than waiting for a mouse to fall into an obvious trap. I was sure nothing would come of this aimless escapade. I was handed a glass of something fancy, so I settled myself down on a chair out of the way of the noise and partook of my gifted libation. Well, liquid gold does have a taste to it.

“Detective!”

I don’t remember falling asleep, the only thing I do remember was being shook awoke by a passing officer. The thief struck again. The easel empty of its work of art. The only thing left was a note.

The first clue and it was deliberately left to mock me. So either he got cocky, or we were so useless at finding even a crumb, he had to start leaving us whole meals out for us. Again, no fingerprints, not even a cobweb was disturbed. Security footage returned nothing, the phantom flying through once again.

Until next time.

“Take this to get the handwriting looked at. Notify me as soon as you have something” I managed to pass the note to an officer, the lad managing to get out before my captain came barging in, all hell following in his wake.

“Rockford! What the hell?”

I quickly rubbed the sleep from my face, hoping he wouldn’t notice I was out in the land of nod when it happened.

“Rockford, how in the hell did this bastard manage to get past us again?”

“Honestly, I only have theories. We were the only ones who knew the plan. Someone must have ratted us out or, it was an inside job. I’ll have to question everyone in the team.”

“An inside job? What kind of crazy are you talking here?”

“It’s the only theory that makes sense.”

“Sense? Tim, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?”

“I avoid it when I can.”

“Well, you look like shit is what you look like. You know what? You’re off the case.”

That hit me like a freight train running a red light.

“Boss, you can’t take this case away from me. I’m close, I know it.”

“I’m sorry but, you haven’t been the same since the accident.”

“I only got shot, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“No, I made a mistake bringing you back too early. I thought a minor case would ease back in, but it’s spiralled out of control.”

“It hasn’t”

“Ten thefts! In the last three months! Ten families robbed of their valuables.”

A dark thought crossed my mind, but thankfully my mouth had control of itself before I could say they deserved what they got. Instead, I just stood there, head hanging in shame and anger.

“You need a bit more time off. Take a vacation somewhere nice.”

I would’ve told him where to take his vacation but decided drowning my sorrows to be a better use of my time. I grabbed a bottle of something on my way out. These rich folks neither minding nor caring whether they had a bottle less in their collection.

My apartment was still empty when I returned; the sunshine reminding me of the loneliness I was set to face. Half a bottle of alcohol in my bloodstream would soon cure me of that, making my brain forget the world existed. I welcomed the darkness like a hug from my mama.

Until I was rudely awakened by thunder. The night greeted me with a display of a thunderstorm Frankenstein would’ve welcomed in his madness. And a creature was on the prowl, making me aware that I wasn’t alone in my apartment. The goosebumps on my arms prickled, alerting me to a presence close by. Drawing my gun I proceeded to hunt down this bastard once and for all. He was a sneaky one, I admit, slithering away out of sight while tempting me with that Forbidden fruit. I swear I would just see him out of the corner of my eye, only to have him disappear as soon as I turned the corner. This twisted cat and mouse game was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of my phone.

“What?”

“Detective Rockford? I have the results.”

“Results?”

I nearly forgot what he was talking about.

“Yeah, we did a writing analysis on the note left at the crime scene.”

A sudden movement caught me by the corner of my eye.

“The handwriting doesn’t match any known criminals” he continued while I slowly approached the shadow, “All we know is that it was done on a notepad found in the house and used with a pen also found there. It’s one of those fancy fountain pens that leaks so the culprit would have smudges on his fingers but sadly no fingerprints.”

I had him now, I said I’d call back and hung up before getting a reply. He was here now, right in front of me. I raised my gun.

“Settle down there, don’t go shooting in here, you could hurt yourself.”

I slowly lowered my gun and stared him square in the eye, something about them strangely familiar to me.

“I have you now.”

“Yes, you do. But let’s have a drink first before you drag me in.”

He held up the once empty glass of mine, in smudges visible on his fingers.

“For a man who hates the rich, you sure do have excellent taste.”

“Cut the drabble, tell me how you managed all those thefts.”

“You know how I did it.”

The man in front of me was talking in riddles. Giving me puzzle pieces without showing me the picture.

“How’d you get in here?”

“You know how I got in here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Lightning flashed, showing his full form. I dropped the glass from my hand, it shattering on the floor. I didn’t remember being handed one and raised my hand in confusion, noticing ink smudges on my fingers. The thief raised his hand and I looked back into his eyes.

The puzzle pieces in my head were slowly being put back into place.

“Are you me?”

“No, I’m me, you’re you. We just, how do you say it? Have a lot in common.”

It was like looking into a mirror, literally. I’d been avoiding my reflection for months since I got shot, too ashamed to look at myself. My reflection must have taken a life of its own.

“There you were, defending some rich couple getting into their car, being held up by some petty thief. Then you, the good detective goes and gets shot defending their honour. And what do you get in return?”

My scar burned at the memory of it. I scratched away at it, so did he.

“All that pain and suffering, and not even a thank you. In fact…”

“They blamed me for letting him get away.”

The puzzle completed now; the picture came flooding back into your memory. All the pain and humiliation I was put through.

“A desk job was all I was good for when I got back to work.”

“A smart man like you being made to sit the day away in boredom? No wonder your mind started to wander.”

“A challenge was needed.”.”

“Only one you could solve. It was a fun challenge.”

“Fun indeed.”

“And you happened to get revenge against all those rich fuckers who left you to rot in the gutter.”

My smile was demonic now.

“It was fun to see their faces.”

“All to see that smile on your face.”

His smile matched mine. I thanked him with a nod, and he nodded in return. He raised a new glass and brought it to his lips. The whiskey tasted divine on my tongue.

[miss-choco-chips]

F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[marjansmarwani]

I don’t feel alive if i’m not in the fight

1.7k || ao3 

TK and Nancy steal the ambulance and Carlos has concerns ---- A 2x14 missing moment

Titled “TK and Nancy do Crime” until a few minutes ago this one is really all about the friendship vibes. 

---------

“So,” Nancy said as she and TK climbed into her car, “part one is stealing an ambulance, clearly. I’m more curious about part two and this mysterious child care you offered.” 

“It’s not that mysterious,” TK admitted as he pulled out his phone, “it’s Carlos’s day off.” 

Nancy raised an eyebrow, “And you think he’ll be happy to spend it with a pair of 8-year-olds? That’s a bold assumption, Strand.” 

“Carlos loves kids,” TK counters with a roll of his eyes, “and kids love Carlos. It’s a win-win.” 

“No, Carlos loves you and that’s why this is going to work,” Nancy countered and TK grinned, trying to ignore the blush he could feel creeping up his cheeks at the matter-of-fact way Nancy said it. He opened his phone instead of answering, tapping on Carlos’s name on the top of his favorites list. It rang once before he picked up, voice somewhat frantic. 

“TK! Are you okay? This storm…” 

“I’m fine, babe,” TK assured him evenly, “how about you? Everything okay there?” 

“Yeah,” Carlos replied, relief evident in his voice, “everything’s fine. Buttercup and I were just outside surveying the damage. Nothing too bad, by the looks of it.” 

“That’s good,” TK agreed, relieved that nothing serious had happened at his dad’s house. He didn’t think any of them could handle one more loss of a home. “But I do have a favor to ask you.” 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not on your way home?” Carlos asked, voice suspicious.  

“Because I’m not,” TK admitted. “We were watching the coverage and there are no medical teams out there, Carlos.” 

“But your ambulance is still locked up in the AFD garage, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” TK agreed, “Nancy and I are on our way there now.”

Carlos was quiet for a second before he asked a question that sounded like he already knew the answer to, “TK, are you and Nancy about to steal an ambulance?”

“No!” TK retorted defensively, “We’re just borrowing it. We’ll put it back when we’re done. Besides,” he added, “it is our ambulance.” 

“And Captain Vega is on board with this act of larceny?”

“She is, which brings me to the favor,” TK said quickly, “would you mind watching her girls? Everyone else is on shift and Grace just went back to work today so there is nobody else and…” 

“Sure,” Carlos responded, cutting off TK’s rambling. 

“Really?” TK asked, surprised. It wasn’t that he had thought Carlos would say no, he just hadn’t been expecting him to agree so readily. 

“Really,” Carlos confirmed. “I like the girls and it sounds like Tommy could use all the help she can get. Besides,” he added, voice going more serious, “these aren’t exactly normal circumstances.” 

“When are they ever?” TK joked, but it wasn’t as light-hearted as he would have liked. There has been so much happening lately and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t weighing on him. He knew he wasn’t the only one. 

“That’s fair,” Carlos agreed. “But still, I’m happy to help. Just promise me you’ll be careful out there, and try not to get arrested stealing an ambulance. It would be awkward to have to bail my boyfriend out at my own precinct.” 

“Good news then,” TK quipped, “I don’t think the AFD garage is in your jurisdiction.” 

There was quiet for a second before Carlos’s voice sounded again, “You do realize that’s worse, right?” 

TK was saved the trouble of replying as Nancy pulled into the parking lot of the department garage. 

“Gotta go babe, we’re here!” He said instead, pausing for a moment before he hung up the phone, able to sense Carlos’s unease even from here. “And we’ll be careful, I promise.” 

“Can you at least text me when you leave to let me know you did not in fact get arrested?” Carlos asked wearily, “Because if I don’t hear from you in the next half hour I’m going to assume you did.” 

“You’d know anyways,” TK reminded him brightly, “you’d be my one phone call, for sure.” 

“I’m flattered,” Carlos deadpanned, but TK could hear the smile he was trying to hide. “I love you, be careful.” 

“Always am, and I love you too.” 

He ended the call and went to unbuckle his seatbelt when Nancy spoke from the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t think it was possible but you two are just as nauseating when you’re not even in the same room.” 

“You’re just jealous Gillian,” TK fired back with a cheeky grin. “Besides, he agreed to babysit.” 

“That seemed like an awfully long conversation for just that.” 

“He also had some concerns about us stealing an ambulance,” TK admitted, climbing out of Nancy’s car as he spoke, “but I told him it’ll be fine. It’s barely stealing anyways.” 

Nancy shook her head but didn’t argue, choosing instead to follow TK’s lead out of the car and into the garage. He led the way to a side door that swung open easily before they stepped in. The ambulance wasn’t hard to spot, the side with Tim’s name painted on it clearly visible even from the doorway. They both stared at it for a second before Nancy nudged TK. 

“You said you knew where they kept the keys?” she whispered, and he nodded. 

“Yeah,” he replied, matching her volume, “I’ll go grab them. Can you go and start checking the supplies?” 

She nodded and TK grinned at her before slipping off to the side, disappearing around a corner. Nancy headed forwards instead, approaching the ambulance with reverence. After everything that had happened, just seeing the familiar vehicle brought her a small amount of comfort. She opened the back doors when she reached it, climbing in and taking a second to appreciate the familiar sight and feeling before she set about checking the inventory. 

She was so focused on the task at hand that she didn't even notice the sound of approaching footsteps until they stopped in front of the open ambulance doors. Even then she didn’t look up until an unfamiliar voice sounded from outside: “Gillian?” 

She turned sharply, nearly dropping the handful of wrapped syringes she was holding as she looked towards the figure standing outside the door, “Neiman? What are you doing here?” 

“What am I—you’re the one in the back of an ambulance parked in a secure facility, Gillian! What are you doing here?”

“Not stealing our ambulance?” she suggested tentatively. The new arrival — Clark Neiman, who Nancy had worked with during a brief stint at the 121 — groaned and ran a weary hand over his face. 

“I do not get paid enough to deal with this,” he lamented and Nancy nodded sympathetically. He studied her for a second and sighed. “Look,” he began, “I’m sure you have a very good reason to do whatever it is you’re doing, but I’m in charge of the ambulances that come in and out of here. If one were to go missing, I’m the one that has to answer for that.” 

“And I hear you, really,” Nancy agreed. “That’s a tough spot to be in. But have you seen it out there? It’s chaos and there are not enough medics to cover it all. But we have a team ready and willing to get out there, we just need the ambulance.” 

She threw him a hopeful glance, doing her best to look convincing. After a moment he sighed, “At least tell me you weren’t planning on hotwiring it?” 

“No, we’re getting the—” but she was cut off by the sound of quick footsteps and she trailed off with a wince as her partner came into view. 

“I got the keys!” TK’s voice proclaimed as he jogged over, coming to a halt when he saw Nieman by the doors, his triumphant grin falling from his face. 

The three paramedics studied each other for a tense moment before Nieman threw up his hands. “You know what?” he declared, “I didn’t see a thing. And I think the security cameras are on the fritz from all the dust. They might just be down for the rest of the day.” He turned to walk away before pausing and turning to Nancy one more time, “Just try to bring it back in one piece, please?” 

Nancy nodded and gave him a grateful smile, “We’ll do our best. Thanks, Clark, really.” 

He shook his head before turning away again, “Don’t thank me — literally, I mean that. I was never here.” 

With that, he was gone and Nancy was left with just her handful of syringes and TK’s curious gaze on her. She met his questioning eyes with a shrug, “What?” she challenged, “You think you’re the only one with secret knowledge of the department. I’ve been around, I know people.” 

“Uh-huh,” he agreed, still not convinced but she just rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve got the keys, I’ve checked the supplies — are we doing this or what?”

“Not having second thoughts?” TK asked her as she climbed out of the back of the rig. 

“Did you just miss the part where I talked the guy in charge of the ambulances into letting us steal it? I am very much in this, Strand; you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides,” she added with a grin as she climbed into the passenger seat, “If we do get arrested I’m pretty sure Carlos would bail me out too.” 

“You think so, huh?” TK asked cheekily as he slid the key into the ignition and started the ambulance. 

“Oh, I know so. He wouldn’t leave me to rot in prison; he knows I am the only thing keeping you from doing reckless stupid shit in the field.”

TK made an indignant sound but she only grinned in response, buckling her seatbelt and looking at him expectantly, “Well what are you waiting for?” she asked, “There are people who need to be saved.” 

“126 to the rescue?” TK asked as he shifted the ambulance into gear and drove towards the exit, leaving the garage and any chance that they had not just stolen AFD property behind. 

“You know it,” Nancy confirmed with a nod and a grin. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

[morganaspendragonss]

holly's august extravaganza day 17: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team)

for both my incredible birthday twin jenny (@laelipoo) and a little bit for myself! i hope you are having a wonderful, wonderful day and i wish you all the love in the world. i'm so glad we became friends and i cannot tell you how glad i am for our conversations 🥰🥰🥰

many, many, many thanks to jenny as well for helping me out with the plot!

ao3 | 3.1k | firefighter carlos, hurt/comfort, pining, developing relationship, major character injury (two of them 😌)

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the soft blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

The thing about Carlos Reyes is that he isn’t only stupidly hot; he’s also just plain nice. TK can’t even make up a flimsy excuse to keep his distance. Carlos is, quite literally, perfect.

He shares recipes and book recommendations with Paul, he spars with Marjan, he discusses superheroes with Mateo, and Judd has had nothing but good things to say since before Carlos even joined them. Apparently they’d worked together a lot before the explosion, when Carlos was with the 116, and he’s ‘one of the best damn firefighters’ Judd has ever seen.

He even makes time to hang with the paramedics, which...isn’t a new development, exactly. But it is recent, and TK is willing to bet they’d still be pretty divided if Tim hadn’t suddenly transferred back to Maryland and he hadn’t taken the leap to be a full paramedic.

Even after that… His friends were hardly going to abandon him after he switched, but Nancy had still only been semi-included at best. She’d called him out about it during their first week working together, but fixing it had been a slow process.

Until Carlos came along, that is. Excluding Judd, they all regularly hang out at his place now, and Nancy’s inclusion had never even been a question. Safe to say, Carlos has charmed everyone in the firehouse, including both captains, and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it.

He’s perfect, from his freakishly toned body to his infuriatingly sweet personality to his incredible skills in the field, and TK does not have a crush, goddammit!

One morning about three weeks after Carlos’s arrival, TK is greeted in the firehouse by the sound of a long, beautiful laugh coming from the kitchen. Three weeks is an embarrassingly short amount of time to admit that he’s memorised everything about him, but he instantly recognises the noise as coming from Carlos, even if he can’t see him yet.

He saunters into the kitchen, where Carlos is standing with Paul, and leans up against the counter. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Carlos turns with a winning smile and holds out a steaming mug of coffee, clearly freshly made even though TK only got in two minutes ago.

He blinks. “How—” Then, taking in the slight pinkness to Carlos’s cheeks, “Are you seriously offering me your own coffee, Reyes?”

Carlos shrugs, forcing the mug into TK’s hands. “I only just made it so technically it belongs to anyone, and I can always make another,” he says. “Besides, you look like you could use it more than me.”

His grin has TK narrowing his eyes and stubbornly refusing to drink even though Carlos is right—he really, really needs it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was an insult.”

“Who says you do know better?”

TK splutters, momentarily left speechless in the face of Carlos’s smile and the twinkle in those goddamn eyes. He turns to Paul for help, but Paul...has disappeared. Huh. TK honestly hadn't noticed him go.

He shakes his head and looks back to Carlos, only to be stunned silent again by the way his smile has softened into something else, something more.

TK’s heart skips a beat or two and he swallows, staring down into Carlos’s coffee. “Whatever, Reyes,” he mutters.

It was too late for a witty comeback anyway.

Carlos’s laugh follows him out of the kitchen, and TK wonders when, exactly, he let himself fall this far.

*

“Earth to TK? Hello?”

TK is rudely snapped back to reality by one Nancy Gillian’s hand waving violently in his face. He scowls at her, to which she responds with an eye roll.

“Stop drooling over your man and come help me with inventory.”

“I’m not drooling,” TK argues, following her over to the rig. “And he’s not my man.”

“Right,” Nancy drawls, folding her arms over her chest as she leans against the ambulance. “So you’re just going to deny that weird energy around you two that makes the rest of us feel like we’re creeping on something?”

“Exactly.” TK nods emphatically, then frowns. “Wait, what?”

Nancy casts her eyes heavenward. “You know,” she says, “you’re a lot of things, Strand, but I hadn’t pegged you for oblivious.”

TK’s next words are reflexive, said without thought for the consequences—the story of his life, really.

“I’m not oblivious!”

The grin spreading over Nancy’s face rams home just how much he’s fucked up with those three words. TK drops his head in his hands and groans, unable and unwilling to look Nancy in the eye.

“Not a word,” he warns, which Nancy appears to respect, for now. TK is well aware that there will be words—several of them—later, whether he wants them or not.

The thing is, he really isn’t oblivious. He knows perfectly well what Nancy is talking about and he has often fantasised about all the things he’d do to Carlos given half a chance. TK likes Carlos, way more than just in the physical sense, and he’s pretty sure that Carlos likes him right back. It would be so easy to start something between them and, god, TK wants to. He just… He can’t.

One year—that’s what he promised himself back in New York. One year on his own to sort his head out and figure out how he fits back into the world after the overdose. Granted, his sobriety anniversary is only a couple of months away now, but he refuses to give up on his promise, especially when he’s so close.

Maybe in a couple months, if Carlos hasn’t gotten bored of something that’s clearly going nowhere.

But not now.

*

“He did not ask me out!”

“He totally did, dude, and you know it. You want to say yes, I can tell.”

“No, I don’t. I—”

“Children,” Tommy interrupts from the back of the ambulance. They’re heading to a callout, and Nancy has not let up the entire way about something TK is certain never actually happened. “Either of you want to enlighten me on what the argument is about this time?”

“TK’s too chicken to go out with Carlos,” Nancy jumps in, before TK can stop her.

“I am not!” he protests. “Plus, he wasn’t asking me out, he said we should go over to his place for dinner sometime, which Carlos does all the time. So there.”

“Strand, you are not this dense,” Nancy snarks, probably rolling her eyes. “His exact words were, ‘You should come over sometime’.”

“We were all there! It was obviously the plural you.”

“Oh my god—”

“Alright!” Tommy sighs wearily. “Nancy, can we keep from provoking TK until we’re back at the firehouse and he’s no longer driving?”

“Ha!” TK exclaims, but Tommy’s not done.

“TK, if I weren’t your captain, I’d be telling you that Nancy is right and you should pull your head out of your ass before it’s too late, understand?”

Now it’s Nancy’s turn to be triumphant as TK struggles to form a coherent response. Thankfully, he’s saved from further torment by them finally pulling up at the scene—a warehouse where one of the workers had become trapped after parts of the upper level walkway had broken and fallen. Apparently, the falling metal had caused some of the machinery to malfunction, turning the call from simple to beyond complicated in a matter of minutes.

“TK, grab your turnout gear and your bag; I’m sending you in with them,” Tommy informs him as soon as they’re out of the rig. “Normally, we’d just talk the firefighters through it over radio, but given your training it’ll be quicker and safer for you to deal with our patient.”

TK grins; he’s missed the adrenaline rush of running into emergencies more than he can say. “Got it, Cap.”

“Maybe try and look a little less happy about a serious injury, too.”

“Copy that.”

*

The noise when they enter the warehouse is deafening, an ugly screeching cutting right through TK’s skull.

“Shouldn’t they have shut the machines off?” he shouts, fighting to be heard.

“Apparently they can’t,” Judd calls back. “Something wrong with the control panel, I don’t know exactly what.”

TK groans—just what they need. The sound is lost in the din, but Carlos still looks over and gives him a sympathetic grin, shrugging in a ‘what can you do’ motion. TK can’t help but grin back, the mere sight of Carlos easing the annoyance he feels and the headache already beginning to build behind his eyes.

Their patient, when they reach him, is pinned under a large, heavy-looking sheet of metal. He’s bleeding from a gash on his temple and his skin is worryingly pale, to the extent that TK can tell even from a distance. He jogs to the patient’s side and kneels down, pressing his fingers against his neck.

“Cap, I have a pulse,” he reports into his radio after a few seconds. “But he’s unconscious with a head wound, and I think there are probably injuries I can’t see yet. Possible spinal damage, but I can’t tell until we’ve got this metal off him.”

“Copy that,” Captain Vega says. “Get ready to run a line; he’s gonna need it as soon as he’s free.”

TK nods and moves to secure a c-collar around his neck. “We need to cut this thing off of him,” he says, addressing the team. “Quickly, but carefully.”

Judd steps forward, brandishing the saw. He hands TK a couple of spare turnouts and kneels on the patient’s other side. “Couple of you need to cover him, and yourselves.”

TK doesn’t even have to ask before Carlos appears next to him, taking one of the turnouts from him. He smiles gratefully before arranging himself to provide maximum protection to all three of them as Judd starts working on the metal. The vibrations from the saw are unpleasant, and TK dreads to think what effect it’s having on the already unstable machinery, but it’s the only option they have to get their patient free.

Fortunately, everything seems to go off without a hitch, and soon the team are able to remove the metal. TK immediately gets to work, feeling for any damage. As he suspected, there’s a pretty large gash on the man’s leg which is bleeding badly, though thankfully it seems to have missed any arteries. He also seems to have a broken wrist, but he should heal.

TK quickly wraps his leg, then gets Carlos and Judd to help move him onto the spine board. It feels like, for once, the call has gone as smoothly as possible, and TK allows himself a breath of relief as they prep to get the guy outside to the ambulance.

Naturally, that’s when everything goes to hell.

The machine closest to them lets out a threatening groan and shudders before there’s a loud roar and it explodes. On instinct, TK folds himself over the patient as shrapnel rains down on them, and he sees Carlos doing the same in his periphery.

The downpour seems to last forever, but eventually it slows and comes to a stop. TK cautiously lifts his head, his heart pounding, and sags in relief as it seems that the worst is over.

They need to get out of here, now.

He stands, a brief stab of pain running through his back—probably because of his awkward position over the patient—and turns to Carlos, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Only to see Carlos’s face tight with agony, and then the cause—a jagged piece of shrapnel running right through his hand.

“Carlos,” TK breathes, horrified. Carlos looks up at him, his breathing carefully measured and his eyes wide, and TK drops back to his knees, reaching out for him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Carlos swallows and nods, his eyes squeezing tight. TK’s heart rate skyrockets, and he’s barely able to keep his cool as he signals to the others to get their first patient out of the warehouse.

“Cap, the team are bringing him out, but we have a problem.”

“Talk to me, Strand, what’s going on?”

“It—It’s Carlos.” TK breathes out shakily and takes a moment to steady himself before continuing, “It’s not serious, but some of the machinery broke apart and some shrapnel impaled his hand. I’ve got to stabilise the shard before we come out to you.”

“Alright, but hurry. I don’t want you guys in there for longer than necessary.”

“Copy.”

Stabilising the shrapnel with rolls of gauze and wrapping Carlos’s hand should be a matter of course—it’s an easy process that TK could probably do in his sleep. But this is Carlos, so his damn hands won’t stop shaking and he almost fumbles and drops his supplies.

He manages though, and soon he’s helping Carlos up, instructing him to hold his injured hand above his heart. Carlos sends him a wobbly smile, which ends up turning out to be more of a grimace, but it’s a comfort nonetheless. Things could have gone so much worse today; TK could have even lost him, and he would have never been able to—

But that’s not important. Carlos is okay, or he will be, and they still have plenty of time to figure out whatever this is between them.

Everything will be okay.

TK’s back and side twinge again as they make their way out, but he brushes it off, too focused on getting Carlos to the hospital as fast as possible. Tommy shakes her head as they make their way over, her eyebrows raised despite the concern clearly in her expression.

“Never a peaceful moment with you, Strand, is it?” she asks dryly, hissing as she inspects Carlos’s wound.

“In my defence, Cap,” he says, more at ease now that they’re safe, “it’s not me who’s injured this time.”

Tommy hums, then directs Carlos into the back of the rig, jumping in after him. “Get back here, TK. Nancy’s driving.”

She has a teasing look in her eyes that instantly makes TK suspicious, but he moves to comply, shrugging off his turnout coat as he does. The movement hurts, which is weird, but he thinks nothing of it.

At least, until Tommy’s eyes go wide and she stands from her seat, holding her hands out towards him. “TK, do not move,” she instructs, her eyes firmly fixed on his right side.

TK frowns, then follows her gaze down, and— Oh.

His grey undershirt is stained with blood, and it’s difficult to miss the large piece of metal sticking out of his side. He has no idea how he missed it, but now that he knows, the pain slams into him full force, causing him to stagger.

“Oh,” he gasps, eloquently.

Then, his legs buckle and the world goes black.

*

TK wakes up to a steady beeping sound, which only exacerbates his pounding headache. He groans, scrunching his face up, before slowly peeling his eyes open, almost slamming them shut again after getting an eyeful of obnoxiously bright fluorescents.

“You’re awake,” a voice says, sounding surprised, then the lights suddenly dim, the room lit by the gentle glow of a lamp. TK sighs in relief and shifts to look at his saviour.

It’s Carlos.

“You… You’re here,” TK states, confused. His gaze drifts down Carlos’s body and lands on the white bandages around his hand, the memories of the warehouse suddenly hitting him all at once. “Shit, you— How are you?”

Carlos shakes his head and comes to sit in the chair by TK’s bed. “I can’t believe you’re the one asking me that.”

“I’m a paramedic, it’s my job.”

“Not when you’re the one in the hospital bed,” Carlos counters, sighing. “If you must know, I’m fine. They gave me some pretty good drugs, so…” He shrugs, and TK can’t help but laugh, which proves to be a very bad idea.

His side lights up, an unnecessary reminder that TK is very much not on the good drugs, and he moans softly, slowly settling back in the bed. “I hate you,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

“You love me,” Carlos says, and TK’s heart seizes in his chest.

The silence after his words is deafening, so TK forces himself to crack his eyes open enough to look at him. Carlos is frozen in his chair, biting his lip hard, and he looks like he either wants to bolt or be swallowed by the earth.

TK thinks he should probably be feeling the same. They’ve been dancing around this issue for weeks now, and he’d thought he had it under control. That he could last that little bit longer until his one year was up; that he could ignore these feelings that have been steadily growing since he first laid eyes on Carlos.

It was a hopeless endeavour; he recognises that now. TK remembers the fear he felt when Carlos was injured back at the warehouse, the desperation for him to be better, and now with his own injury…

He could have lost this chance before he ever got it, and TK isn’t about to let it slip through his fingers now. He reaches out and takes Carlos’s good hand, startling him into meeting TK’s eyes.

“Yeah,” TK whispers, just loud enough for Carlos to hear him. “I think I do.”

The smile Carlos gives him lights up the room, and he doesn’t waste any time in leaning down to kiss TK. And it’s… It’s everything TK had hoped and imagined it would be and more. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and perfect, and he never wants it to end.

But end it does, though Carlos doesn’t go far. TK smiles at him, squeezing his hand with all the strength he can muster.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” he says.

Carlos frowns. “What?”

TK’s smile widens and he flicks his eyebrows at Carlos. “To dinner. Or were you not asking me out after all?”

Carlos huffs a laugh, and the look in his eyes when they lock back onto TK’s melts his heart and makes his entire chest ache. “Does Friday work for you?”

He nods, tugging Carlos down for another kiss. “It’s a date.”

[spacedikut]

spooky scary skeletons ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: spencer has the prettiest face you’ve ever painted on. 1626 words

a/n: a poorly edited, poorly written and late halloween thing! inspired by idmakeitbehave (go read everything theyve ever written ever) because they have the BEST meet cutes and every time i think of them i :-)

masterlist

The haunted mansion of the fair, overflowing with screams, the sound of chainsaws and the evil cackle your friend has been rehearsing in the mirror all month, stands tall behind you like the looming presence it is. It’s brought great entertainment for you, watching and hearing the reactions of those that dare enter.

You’re set up not far from the exit of the house with your array of face paint around you, paintbrush in hand. Most of your customers are children – this year’s most popular request is pumpkin, last year was skeleton – and as much as you love spookiness and gore and everything in between, the rush of pride you feel when a little girl gasps and thanks you with the sweetest voice when you show her your finished work is unmatched.

You’re not the least surprised that your clientele is mainly children. There’s the odd parent here and there that is persuaded to get a black cat on their cheek, or some fake blood coming from their eyes and mouths, but they never venture beyond the small request.

Until him.

He’s marched up to you by his friend who, wearing a dress covered in fake spiders and cobwebs, pushes him by the shoulders right up to the foldable chair that’s placed opposite you. You’re drying off a wet paintbrush, glancing up when you hear the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

“My friend would like his face painted.” She tells you.

“Of course,” You gesture for him to take the seat in front of you, the compliment slipping out after giving them both a once-over. “I like your outfits.”

“Oh!” The girl grins. “Thank you. I’ve been waiting all year to wear it. And he,” She points to the still-silent customer who hasn’t taken his eyes off you once, “Is more obsessed with Halloween than anyone I know.”

Looking at the bright orange pumpkin-covered sweater he’s wearing, you’re overcome by the urge to touch it – and his hair, with the way it’s all squiggles and curls and seems so soft. “What can I do for you?”

The first time he speaks, it’s after he takes a deep breath and rubs his palms on his trousers. “A skeleton, please.”

You’re already arranging the colours you’ll need, missing how the girl slips away, too busy asking the usual questions, “How big?”

“My entire face.”

That’s a new one. For an adult, at least. Usually all they want is an easy to clean, easy to hide image on their cheek.

It’s only then you really take in his appearance. In the dark, dusty light of the fair, he looks like a real life Tim Burton character – shallow eyes, sharp cheekbones, a general gauntness that you’ve only seen in fiction. He’s the perfect skeleton, if that isn’t weird to think.

“All over?” Your hand moves to gesture over your face, as if miming to him what all over really means.

“Yeah,” He nods, “I’m not that good of an artist, and my mask makes it kind of hard to see. So a skeleton is spooky enough but not a lot of work, right?”

“Right.” You smile at him. “Right, okay, let’s do it.”

The second the cold bristles dip into the paint before you, you’re absorbed in ensuring you do a good job. You’re used to working on children, so you naturally take hold of his chin to move his face this way and that way to apply a firm coat and get your lines right.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” He mumbles.

You huff a laugh. He feels your breath on his lips. “Hi, Spencer, I’m Y/N.”

The customer – Spencer – wiggles his lips in a way that tells you he’s holding back a smile. You’re not sure what it is about him, but you like him. You like how still he sits, patiently letting you do your work, you like how much he seems to like Halloween (you refer to the sweater and the fact he’s about to cover his entire face in paint to look like a skeleton), and you like how his eyes on you make you feel. Because it doesn’t feel gross, or weird, like it normally does; it’s like his gaze is complimenting you silently, the intensity of it making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Small-talk comes naturally after hours of doing this job. “You mentioned a mask? What was it a mask of?”

“Michael Myers.”

“Oh,” You shiver, “I hate that guy.”

“The iconic mask is actually a William Shatner mask that’s painted white and changed to blur the resemblance to Shatner. Specifically, it’s a Captain Kirk death mask created for Star Trek.” Spencer tells you, giving a tight lipped smile when you pause for a second to take in the information.

“How does William Shatner feel about that?”

“Not great, probably. But, can you imagine being considered one of the stars of the Halloween franchise?” He’s giddy, almost wiggling in excitement. “I’d love to see people wearing my face every Halloween.”

You laugh at that.

A few more facts are spewed out while you mix black with a little bit of white to make grey, some you already know and some you don’t, but he’s still chattering on when you turn back to face him, ready to paint again.

The words die in his throat, however, when your hand finds home on the back of his neck, thumb hooking around to lift his jaw up. “Still, please.”

Even if he wanted to give an unnecessary apology, he wouldn’t be able to, as if his throat is full of sand.

It’s silent for a while, Spencer’s eyes trained on the twinkling night sky that sits calmly compared to the thundering of his heart, the scramble of thoughts in his head. When your hand moves away a few minutes later, his disappointed eyes fall back to your face, where he finds himself thinking, please do that again.

“Do you want the black on your eyelids, too, or just around your eye?” You ask over your shoulder, oblivious to the new slump in Spencer’s back.

“Eyelids, too, please.”

You smile to yourself at how polite he is. Spencer might be the sweetest person you’ve ever met and you’ve known him for twenty minutes.

By the time you’re done, you’ve decided Spencer is the best customer you’ve ever had and you’d give anything to replay this interaction again and again. He’s polite, listens when you ask him to turn a certain way or sit up (a surprising amount of adults simply do not listen), and brings the most interesting conversation.

Did you know the use of OMG can be traced back to 1917? Cause Spencer does, and he bestowed you with the same knowledge.

You’re impressed with yourself and Spencer’s brain when you finally lean back, checking for any spots you missed or parts you can fix.

Before you even reach for the mirror, Spencer’s interrupting you.

“Um… do I-do I look spooky?”

You face him, a pretty smirk on your lips, “Terrifying.”

When you hold the mirror up to his face, he barely spares himself glance (but it’s enough of a glance for him to think holy crap, you’re talented) and there’s a look in his eye – he’s hesitant. About what, you’re not sure.

You wonder if he can tell you don’t want him to go. You enjoy his company, you enjoy him, and you’ve never wanted to wipe your work off someone’s face so quickly just for an excuse to do it again until now.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks, reaching for his wallet but not leaving the chair.

Your eyes narrow for a split second as you weight your option. Then you think fuck it, and say, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You can, and you will.” You stand. “Consider it thanks for all the cool facts you gave me.”

He lights up when you say cool facts, and opens his mouth to again offer to pay when he’s cut off by a group of laughing teenagers flying out of the haunted house, the exit door slamming against the wood with a startling bang.

Spencer gets an idea.

Seeing you look at the house, he asks, “Have you been in yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Not yet. If I have time later, maybe-“

“Come in with me.”

His grip on his wallet is tight, channelling all worry into his fingers so he doesn’t stumble or say something stupid.

“It’s the least I can do, and it’ll be too scary on my own.”

He’s lying – the idea of going through a haunted house by himself sounds exhilarating, but he’s found an opportunity to not leave you just yet and he’s going to take it.

You consider him for a moment. It’s late, you’ve been painting faces all day, and the sweetest, most attractive person you’ve ever seen is asking you to join them in a haunted house on Halloween. What kind of person would say no?

“Okay,” You happily concede, “But don’t blame me if I end up clinging to you.”

The two of you join the line into the house, giggling when someone dramatically falls through the exit and gasps for air like he’s barely made it out alive. And when the next people to leave the house are a couple who hold eachother close and tight, hands intertwined and one with their head buried in the neck of the other, Spencer steps a little closer to you, hoping you get the memo that having you cling to him doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @fandommonium3267 @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @bitchyreids

[thepartyresponsible]

I'd love to hear about the stevetonytimehop story!

oh boy. so the name sounds fun, but this fic is actually quite dark at the beginning. which is probably why i don’t work on it very often.

anyway, here’s some endgame inspired angst. warnings for a lot of referenced character deaths and also for alcoholism and depression and just general despair.

                                                            —   

Tony’s drunk the first time it happens. Drunk enough that he assumes the whole thing is a hallucination. Some dregs of his conscience teaming up with whatever base will to live remains left in him, dropping him here in the hopes that he’ll learn something from it.

“Shit,” he says, blinking around at all the assembled mourners. “Which one of you is the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?”

Pepper’s mouth falls open, and, when she blinks, tears track down her face. Beside her, Rhodey looks stricken.

It’s nice, seeing Rhodey look anything at all.

“Jacob Marley,” Tony says. He tips the bottle Rhodey’s direction and is absolutely thrilled that his subconscious mind had the mercy to bring this particular crutch with him. “Icarus?” he tries, when that gets no response.

And that’s a new metaphor he’s never properly appreciated. He’s always thought of himself as a Sisyphean figure, but Daedalus has his resonance.

“Who the hell are you?”

It’s been years since Tony heard that voice. Years and years, if you don’t count all the nightmares. Years and years and years, except for all the videos, the footage from the suit cameras, the endless loops that play all night while Tony stares, tracking every missed chance to change the outcome.

Tony’s watched Steve die a thousand times. He’s memorized it. Steve’s death has all the familiarity of sunrise.

It’s strange hearing him say something other than Tony’s name. Strange hearing his voice so strong and clear. For half a second, when Tony looks at him, he can see blood bubbling up at the corners of his mouth.

But it’s not there. Because this Steve isn’t dying. This Steve is standing tall and steady, with all his bones and blood on the inside.

Tony’s at his own funeral, but here, somehow, Steve got to live.

“Tiny Tim,” Tony says.

And it fits, because Tiny Tim had his broken leg and everything about Steve was broken. Everything but his face, that jawline, those bright blue eyes. Blood everywhere, and his face going pale, but still so fucking beautiful.

“Dad?”

There’s a kid. She’s looking at him like her heart is breaking with a hope it isn’t big enough to hold.

Everywhere he goes, he breaks every good thing he finds.

“Fuck,” he says. The world sways; his stomach lurches. He drops the bottle in his hand, and, when he throws up, he throws up in a different universe.

                                                              —

“I mean, I don’t know what to tell you.” This universe’s Bruce doesn’t need glasses. 20/20 vision, apparently. It’s weird how he still pinches the bridge of his nose when he’s exasperated. “Honestly, Tony, you’re the one I’d normally ask.”

“Okay,” Tony says. He kicks his legs. He’s sitting on a desk Bruce that insists is his, but it doesn’t feel familiar. This universe’s Tony wrote all his notes in code. This universe’s Tony is paranoid and skittish, pilots the Iron Man suit remotely, hasn’t been seen in public since he was rescued from the Ten Rings two and a half years after he was captured.

This universe’s Tony disappeared ten days ago, and every single Iron Man suit self-detonated forty-eight hours later.

Hell of a dead man’s switch, Tony thinks. But if he’d been in those caves for two and a half years, he has no idea what kind of creature would’ve come crawling out.

“And this other me,” Tony says, “does he spend a lot of his time fucking around with universe-hopping?”

Bruce shrugs. “A casual amount,” he says. “Kinda did a tour after the Accords.”

“Right.” After the Accords, Tony stayed drunk for two weeks straight. After the Accords, he locked himself out of his own labs. After the Accords, he walked into the ocean until the water rose over his head, and he tasted salt in his mouth, and he thought about the Ten Rings holding his head under until he blacked out.

In this universe, Steve Rogers died in New York at age five. Bucky Barnes was Captain America. Is Captain America. Has always been Captain America.

And he’s been nothing but helpful. Kind. Concerned about this new Tony, clearly distraught over losing the one that belongs here.

“I shot you,” Tony tells Barnes. The whole team – what amounts to the team in this universe, anyway – is eating dinner, and Tony can’t stomach the way Barnes looks at him, all polite and pained, like Tony’s a cancer patient instead of a cancerous growth, eating into this universe. “In the head,” he clarifies. “I shot you in the head.”

Clint and Natasha tip their heads together. Scott drops his fork.

Barnes chews and swallows. “Did I deserve it?”

The laugh sticks in Tony’s throat and comes out as something ugly. The glass shakes in his hand. He holds so tight that it shatters, and then he’s in a new universe, a fourth universe, and he’s bleeding from the shards of glass embedded in his palm, and Steve Rogers is in bed with him.

                                                              —

“What the fuck,” Tony says, to Steve, to the white sheets, to everything. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.”

“Tony,” Steve says. His hands are warm. He grabs Tony’s wrist, stares at the cuts. “Okay, come on. Let’s get---”

“Stop,” Tony says. He pulls away, trips, lands hard on the carpet, good hand braced against the carpet. “Get the fuck--”

“Okay,” Steve says. Hands up, eyes wide.

This Steve looks young. Fresh from the ice. Beautiful.

“Tony?” he says. “You’re bleeding.”

So were you, Tony wants to say. So were you, until you stopped.

“Please,” Steve says. “I know you’re not my Tony. But you’re—I just want to look at your hand, okay?”

“Last time I trusted you,” Tony says, “you damn near split the arc reactor with your shield.”

Steve flinches. “I didn’t,” he says. “That wasn’t me.”

And Tony knows it wasn’t. Because that Steve is dead. That Steve died in his arms. His last word was Tony’s name.

“I want this to be over,” Tony says.

Steve reaches down and picks him up like he weighs nothing, and Tony forgot about that. He forgot how strong Steve is, the trick of him.

Steve Rogers makes people feel safe. It’s an illusion. You’re never in more danger than when you’re close to Steve.

He and Tony have that in common.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says.

Says it to this whole, beautiful Steve. When he looks at him, he can see all the places the other Steve split apart, the joint where his arm snapped, the white t-shirt stretched over the chest that was smashed open.

Steve, standing against the entirety of Thanos’ army. And they were too late. Just like Tony had always known they were going to be.

“You’re okay,” Steve tells him, voice soft, tone soothing.

But that doesn’t help, because that’s the problem.

Tony’s fine. Steve’s dead. Rhodey’s dead. Pepper’s dead.

Peter’s dead.

Barnes is dead.

Someday, whichever Tony started this mad game of multiverse duck-duck-goose, is going to crash into a universe he likes, and Tony doesn’t know who he’ll have left when it’s over.

It can’t be less than who he had left when it started.

But maybe what he fears most is having to go back to the empty world he created. Maybe that’s exactly what he deserves. Sisyphus, and his rock.

“Hey,” Steve says, setting him down on the bathroom counter, running his hand under warm water, “it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tony closes his eyes. “Jesus, Steve,” he says. “We never are.”

[liquid-luck-00]

Connections 5

Chapter 5

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette is now 7 and this is Mari’s first time back to Paris since the fair.

---

Summer break was always a pain and that was because she spent it with only Jean-Pierre and in her suite in the hotel. Chloe wouldn’t ever leave the hotel because she was the daughter of Style Queen and that meant she had a reputation to maintain. Except that all changes when Marinette comes to Paris.

That girl is the person who knows Chloe, other than a rich stuck-up brat, but that doesn’t mean other kids know that.

“Clo are you in” the little noirette called as she walked in, but she was different the bottom half of her midnight hair was bright purple just like her dad’s and it suited her.

“Mari-bug!” the blonde ran into her friend and hugged her. “That’s new” she said as she flicked her best friend’s hair.

The girl giggled, “yeah dad and Penny let me do it when we started the tour, I like it” the noirette laughed and Chloe smiled.

“it looks good” Chloe smiled; I can’t do that mom would freak. “So, any plans on how to sneak out this time?”

Mari smirked and shoved a backpack at her friend “Of course!”

“You are ridiculous…”

“Utterly ridiculous. I know” she was then pushed into another part of her room by the girl. “Now get dressed”

---

Chloe walked out in a pair of yellow gold leggings, under a dress that fell to her knees it faded from the bottom a silver to white at the top and was splattered with gold. She wore black flats and her hair was in her signature ponytail.

“This isn’t much of a disguise Mari” the blonde stated.

“Well not yet it isn’t” Mari pulled out a silver can with a black cap. “Now hold still” Mari was tugging the blonde’s hair and spraying it and when she finished most of her friend’s hair was black save for a few streaks of her golden hair. “How does it look now” the bluenette smirked, as she watched her friend’s reaction.

“If I add some glasses no one will know!” The blonde was jumping with joy as Mari reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of black glasses with bees along the legs and two golden bees in the corners.

“Like the Queen Bee you are” Mari stated as she looked at her friend. No one will be able to tell this is Style Queen’s daughter. Chloe is now just another regular Parisian kid and Paris is not going to know what hit them.

“What about you Mari” as soon as her friend said that she smiled and walked into the other room. When she walked out Mari was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a red shirt covered in black spots. On top of it she wore a dark grey cardigan that fell to her knees, and a pair of black and red high tops. She finished by putting her hair in two space buns tucking the purple away and rearranging her bangs to fall from a center part. “Wow, a bee and ladybug are amount to storm Paris” Chole remarked. Oh, how right she was although she didn’t know it.

“Then let’s go Bee”

“Alright Bug” the two girls ran out of the hotel and made their way to the park. For the three days Mari spent in Paris everyone was talking about the chaos that was brought by the ‘Ladybug’ and the ‘Bee’ as they seemed to draw everyone’s attention. In the span of three days the two planted orange tiger lilies that covered every school potted trees, they snuck into an made a cameo in her dad’s interview with Nadia Chamock, and they somehow managed to make every bird in Paris land on the Eiffel Tower. They didn’t even try to do it, they just wanted to feed the pigeons but soon every bird in the city was there. By the end of the week the ladybug and bee were nicknamed the Lilies of Paris.

Summer was too quick to end but Mari didn’t seem to mind. That just meant that she would be returning to Gotham and would be with her brothers. Not to mention that they were in essence training her when she was with them.

---

Most of her time with the boys was mainly spent with Dick. She and Dick would parkour all around the cave and she was a natural at gymnastics. She got the hang of her yo-yo when transformed and that was when they noticed that her strength and stamina was off the charts compared to other children.

She and Tim would mostly work on hand to hand combat but that mostly resulted in Tim on the floor, while Mari stood triumphant.

Bruce specifically tried to keep Mari from Jason, in fear that he would teach Little Mari how to shoot. But his attempts were in vain, to his credit Jason didn’t show her how to shoot a gun but how to disarm and disassemble different gums in a safe way. That was actually pretty good thinking and he should have thought of that.

To Bruce’s astonishment, or he should really say utter horror, little Mari loved Jason’s motorcycle. It got to the point that not even Jagged could argue whenever Jason picked up Mari from school on his bike. Both he and Jagged swear that Jason is going to end up teaching her to ride before either of them teach her to drive. Jason just loves the fact that Mari loves to ride with him, and Bruce doesn’t oppose this as Jason is always more careful whenever she is with him, or around them in general.

Bruce could tell that this little pixie, yes even he admits that he calls her pixie, has changed the entire family. He would however not let her out as the Ladybug holder in Gotham, but she was adamant on changing their suits and crafted them. Hell, he knew she was a wizard with design but even he was shocked at what she could do. What that girl could do with a needle, thread, and Kevlar reinforced fabric and armor plating was amazing.

He would force her to even make some for their daily lives. Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Himself had gotten several suits that were damn impossible to tell what they were made of. Jason got several more casual outfits and many leather jackets. Mari even made herself several outfits, particularly her favorites were legging that she wore with her uniform and when she rode with Jason. It came to the point that Bruce practically forced Mari to only wear reinforced clothes for her protection, thankfully Tikki was on his side and she did, the only exception was her uniform.

---

Mari was never a normal kid and that much was evident, it wasn’t until she and Tikki were talking during a stay at Wane manor when she was 9 that everything came to light. Alfred walked into the room and that was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was Tikki that changed his perception.

Tikki was floating in front of Miss Marinette, looking sad and trying to comfort the child. Alfred immediately went to the girl and noticed what was happening.

“Miss Mari” he tried to get her attention, but she simply stared straight forwards. The family began to come into the room and silence permeated the manor.

That was when she stared at Jason with tears running down her face, “J… Jay… Jay-Jay why are… why are you covered in chaos magic” everyone was staring at the girl quiet as they realized what she was saying. “Why are you covered in magic from the Lazarus Pit?” the collective in the room were shocked no one made a sound. As Alfred looked around, he even saw Tikki shake in what appeared to be a mix of sadness and fright.

“How do you know that name, Mari?” the little god spoke finally breaking the silence.

“I” she looked around seemingly unsure if she should continue “I just heard it, I saw it, it was it was like a ritual”

“Tikki is this normal for a miraculous holder” Bruce asked attempting to take the attention from little Mari.

Tikki simply shook her head “No it isn’t. seeing the Lazarus arura is for a Ladybug, but this knowledge is not normal…” then she simply stared at the girl. “Mari do you think?” the question was left unfinished, but the meaning was not lost on Mari.

Miss Marinette looked shocked and seemed close to tears. Resigned she finally spoke “it might be, it’s the most logical” after this the child went silent.

“What does this incur exactly?” Alfred spoke from kneeling beside Marinette.

The little god seemed to think before finally stating “Her soulmate” that left everyone quiet once again. “Mari knows how to fight, that much you know but what you don’t is that she has never had any type of training. The same goes for several languages she has never studied, she can read a person’s body language without any difficulty, and now this.” the little goddess states. The boys simply stare at her.

Bruce kneeled down and pulled Mari into a hug. And seemed to whisper something into her ear. Her eyes widened in surprise before she began to cry, and she was taken into Bruce’s arms and they walked out. The next thing Alfred knew was that it was loud, and the boys began to rush after Bruce. They finally found him in Mari’s room speaking softly, to softly to overhear, that they had to open the door but were met with an icy glare and left.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist🐞🦇

@thanks-captain-obvious @mandy989  @our-preciousss @readingismyoxygen @birdy912 @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @todaylillypads @laurcad123 @deamonangel27 @be-happy-every-day-please @fandom-trapped-03 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @t1dwarrior-of-earth @saays-bitch @kawaiigiantjudgefish @k-poplunardreams @animegirlweeb @animezodiac707 @weird-pale-blonde-person @myazael @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @miraculous-simmer7 @wannajointhecrabcult @blackmagicforever @iamabrownfox @inkattbi @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @justcourttee @consumeconstantly @abrx2002 @livelifeauthorstyle @certifiedbidisaster @dreamykitty25 @ironspiderstark @fantasyislive @ertyzeta @dast218 @susiej1118 @sassakitty @lilyreadbooks12 @dawnwave16

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

No Happy Ending

Masterlist Ao3

Pairings: Implied Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum

Warnings: Major character death, Mechanisms-typical threatened violence, Coughing blood, Thoughts of suicide, 

Don’t worry, I don’t describe the death in a ton of detail, but be warned. 

This is my first fic for the Mechanisms fandom. I was listening to The Bifrost Incident again and thought "Hey I've seen a bunch of content where Lyf survives and meets/joins the Mechanisms. What if they didn't survive?" And because I had to deal with that thought (it's a Mechanisms album let's be real) now you get an hour's worth of straight stream of consciousness. Enjoy! :)

“Log of Lyfrassir Edda Inspector- oh that doesn’t matter anymore I suppose. Just Lyf then if anyone actually listens to these when I’m gone.” Lyf coughed wetly into their hand and stared somewhat disinterestedly at the blood that splattered across it. They took a moment to catch their breath. “This will be my final entry I imagine. None of the ship’s functions have worked correctly in weeks.

“First it was the-” they were cut off by a sudden blur in their vision. It took a moment for Lyf to realize they were still holding the recorder. “The navigation systems went down first, then one by one various systems shut down or broke. I am nearly out of food and water and the oxygen pumps stopped almost an hour ago.”

Lyf stared at their hands, shaking and covered in their own blood. “I know I was touched by the outer gods. Even I wasn’t fast enough to escape their grasp completely. But I know they will not save me. I wouldn’t want them to if they could. Perhaps in a moment of weakness I would fall to them as Odin did, but here in the cold of space I don’t even have the option. It’s for the best.”

They gazed at the sputtering lights around them, the broken gauges and stuck knobs. They had been tempted just to end it many times, but something always stopped them. If Lyf had been more foolish or perhaps just slightly less stern they might have called it hope. Hope that they could flee and survive. That they could take advantage of the gift Loki and Sigyn had given the Yggdrasil System with their lives. But they were austere as ever and chalked up their perseverance to nothing but fear of dying.

And Lyf was afraid to die. Even here, even now, as they felt the end approaching as they had for weeks now. They were afraid. They realized the log was still running. They might as well spend their last hours leaving something to be remembered by.

“The recordings of my findings and the events of the Bifrost incident are all here. You may even have listened to them if you’re listening to this. I sincerely doubt there will be anything left of my home system, not after what Odin released there. They might even leave there one day, consume the rest of everything. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be long dead.” Lyf laughed. A short bitter laugh that turned into another wracking cough.

“I didn’t have much on Asgard to be perfectly honest. No family to speak of, few friends. The one constant I had were those blasted Mechanisms. I suppose they’re the reason I lasted long enough to make it all the way out here instead of being trapped in that psychedelic hellscape. They’re the reason I asked for a transfer from the prison to transport police. The amount of violins I confiscated from Marius,” Lyf said as an afterthought.

“They always disappeared not long after I left them. I guess Von Raum and the others could always have escaped. They must have wanted another story .” Lyf put more malice in their voice than they felt. It was hard to feel real anger towards the Mechanisms, other than maybe Jonny. He was a piece of work, Lyf thought with a grimace. Jonny had taken the longest to capture and the most work to contain and recapture. Everyone knew- had known someone who’d been killed or injured by Jonny d’Ville. Lyf couldn’t say they had any love for the man.

Ivy, they could respect. She was incredibly logical in a way they found endearing. Raphaella la Cognizi scared them. True, Lyf had a ton of respect for her, but she was the closest thing they had ever known to a mad scientist before Odin. Brian was nice, as was Marius when he wasn’t being an idiot. Lyf had only called him Von Raum to annoy him, so Marius had responded in kind. A smile tugged at the edges of Lyf’s lips even as they struggled with each breath they took. Ashes and Tim scared him the normal way. The “We will destroy everyone and everything you love with a smile if you wrong us” way. Stay on their good side, and they’re nice enough. And the Toy Soldier… Lyf didn’t like thinking about the Toy Soldier. It unsettled them.

Lyf wasn’t sure how much of that they’d said aloud, if they had said any of it. Oxygen deprivation was really getting to them. They gave a tired smirk at the monitor above them as if any of the cameras still worked. “If the Mechanisms ever get ahold of these my message to you is; fuck you ,” they said with feeling, before doubling over in another coughing fit.

“I don’t have much-any time left,” Lyf rasped. “I-I Lyfrassir Edda signing off for what is likely the last time.”

They clicked off the recorder and set it down on the table by the chair they were sitting in, next to a small pile of similar recorders. Lyf took the deepest breath their air-deprived lungs would allow and closed their eyes.

In the greatest mercy the universe would ever bestow upon Lyfrassir Edda, it allowed them to die in their sleep. One might even have been able to call it peaceful.

Drumbot Brian stood on the bridge trying to puzzle out where that beeping was coming from. Nastya had added a lot of systems to Aurora before she left and well… Brian hadn’t had nearly long enough to learn them all. Finally he managed to find it. Ah a radar… thingy. He wasn’t really a pilot. Why was he the pilot? He would be much better as the doctor seeing as resurrection was his thing. Brian made a note to bring it up with Jonny or maybe Ashes seeing as they were the quartermaster (not that they ever did any quartermaster-like duties). The increase in beeping brought Brian out of his thoughts. That looked like a ship. Floating in the middle of nowhere?

Brian shrugged and left to go find Jonny. He always threw a fuss if he wasn’t the first one notified of anything and Jonny throwing a fuss generally led to him quite literally shooting the messenger. Brian didn’t much feel like dying today.

He found Jonny in the library, which was strange. He typically avoided books like a plague and Ivy hated having Jonny in there. Jonny gestured Brian over as soon as he saw him.

“Come on. Come on ,” Jonny whispered furiously as Brian took his time walking to him.

“Who are you hiding from this time?” Brian asked loudly. Jonny glared daggers at him. Ah well, he was starting to think antagonizing Jonny today would be worth getting shot.  

“Ashes. I might have stolen their favorite hat.”

“So you’re hiding in the library.”

Jonny gave Brian a knowing look. A look that made Brian wish he had the eyebrows to express his disdain, because that look said that Jonny thought he was doing something really clever. 8 times out of 10 he was wrong and the other 2 times ended up with someone dying. “Exactly. Ashes is banned from the library, too much flammable materials or something or other.”

“That’s why you’re banned from the library too.”

“Exactly why it’s the best hiding spot.” Jonny peeked around the corner at the sound of footsteps outside, hand over the gun at his side. He caught a glimpse of Raphaella’s wings as she passed the open doorway.

In the split second Jonny was turned away, and therefore less distracting, Brain remembered he had for once actually been looking for Jonny. And that it might be somewhat urgent. Oops.

“Uh Jonny?”

“Uh-huh. What?” Jonny wasn’t paying attention to him.

“There’s a transport ship outside.”

That got Jonny’s attention. “Any idea who?” he asked with a grin that meant he was in the mood to shoot someone. Brian shrugged inwardly, as long as that person wasn’t him.

“No clue. Looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Lovely.” Fight with Ashes forgotten, Jonny strode out of the library whistling Tales to Be Told and Brian walking just behind him.

They arrived at the bridge to find the ship had drifted even closer, or maybe the Aurora had gotten closer, it was hard to tell. Jonny studied it for a long time before snapping his fingers a couple times as he tried to remember where he remembered it from.

“That’s from As-as something.”

“Asgard?” Brian asked. Jonny nodded.

“That’s the one.” He put his foot up on Brian’s chair and rested his elbow on his knee. “Wonder what it’s doing he- Hey Brian, when are we in relation to the whole Yggdrasil system collapse thing. The Bifrost Incident? We were going to make a new album out of that story right?”

Brian checked one of the monitors, halfway surprised that Johnny remembered the Yggdrasil System. Although, to be fair, they’d been there for almost a century and even he couldn’t be drunk the entire time (events 300 or so years in the future ago were outliers and so could not be counted).

“We’re a couple months after. Why? You think someone escaped the train?”

Jonny shrugged. “No idea, but we might as well get the rest of the crew up here.” He turned and pressed a couple buttons until he found the comms. “Crew of the Aurora,” he exclaimed with his usual gusto, “this is your Captain speaking.”

“FIRST MATE!” They heard Tim scream at the top of his lungs from the armory. The armory wasn’t too far from the bridge and damn could Tim scream.

“ Captain. We’ve found something rather interesting, a transport vessel from the Yggdrasil System. If anyone would like to come with us to take a look get up to the bridge. You have five minutes.” Jonny poked a couple more buttons until it seemed like the comms had shut off.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by Tim, Marius, Ashes, and the Toy Soldier.

“We didn’t invite you,” Jonny sneered at the Toy Soldier.

“I’m just happy to be included!” the Toy Soldier said happily, oblivious as ever. Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Right. Can we dock it or something?” Ashes asked, leaning on the door-frame with their hands in the pockets.

“Aurora?” Brian asked tentatively. The Aurora was unreliable at the best of times and now that the only person she would always listen to was gone, she was testier than she’d ever been. Still, they heard the satisfying clunk and hiss of the airlocks attaching and sealing. The doors slid open to reveal a small ship.

Close as they were, it was clearly Asgardian design, all sleek edges and intricate grooves. For a transport vessel, it was decent quality although obviously not built for the kind of travel it had been doing. Jonny stepped in first. Well… his gun went in first while the rest of him followed. The Toy Soldier trotted in behind him and the rest followed in a sort of amorphous blob.

There was just enough space for the 6 of them to fit in the largest of the two rooms. Everywhere they looked was broken equipment, a frankly impressive array of destruction for this thing to have gotten as far as it had when it wasn’t built for out-of-system travel.

“There’s no way anyone from that system could have survived this much system failure,” Brian whispered as if the likely dead person in the other room could hear them.

“They could have been, what was it? ‘Touched by the outer gods?’” Jonny asked.

“Who came up with that line?” Ashes snorted.

“Me,” Marius said distractedly as he moved towards the table by the door. There was a small mound of recorders on it. He pressed play on one of them. The sudden sound made everyone jump. Then they heard it.

“Log of Inspector Second Class Lyfrassir Edda New Midgard Transport Police. I was able to barter for a transport ship. I’ve spent most of my savings on this, food, water, and fuel. I have some left over that will hopefully last me until I can find work in another system. Already things have begun going wrong. I brought my recordings of the Bifrost incident with me, I don’t think anyone will believe if I didn’t, and attached to the last one are some messages we’ve been receiving on various frequencies from everywhere in the system.

I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. I just left a copy of the recordings and got out of there as quickly as possible. I think I escaped the worst of it, though the nightmares I’ve been having are certainly nothing of this world.

If I don’t stop, I might survive this. I might survive this.

Log ends.”

The Mechs stared at each other for a moment before Marius shoved his way forward and thrust open the door. In the pilot’s seat sat Lyf, their eyes closed, blood spattered about the small room. Their uniform was long past wrinkled and blood-stained. Their dark skin was the palest Marius had ever seen from them.

Marius had seen war. He had been through horrors, and committed such atrocities in kind. He had thought that his many centuries of mechanization would have made him desensitized to death by now, and it had. But it was so much easier to come to terms with Lyf’s death when they weren’t laying in front of him, covered in their own blood. This touched him deeply, in a way he couldn’t remember feeling before.

He didn’t remember walking to the medical bay, but he must have because here he was. Lyf lay on the table that they usually put their dead crewmates on to wait for the resurrection process, but there would be no resurrection process.

Raphaella had come in sometime during the time Marius had been in there and given her verdict. Lyf could not be mechanized. They had been dead too long and even if they hadn’t been, the touch of the outer gods would not have allowed for mechanization.

And Marius was alone again.

Alone with a corpse that would never walk again. That would never tell him, and Marius smiled slightly at the memory, to shut the fuck up and put the goddamn violin away, again. Lyfrassir Edda was gone. For good.

They listened to the tapes. All of them. All of the Mechanisms had known Lyf and most of them had even liked them. Besides, they weren’t entirely cruel and oblivious. They knew this was something Marius needed. Not to mention it helped with the whole album-writing part of their gig.

Marius listened to those tapes. He listened to them over and over again until he had them memorized. Well, except for the final recording. It hurt too much to listen to it more than once.

Marius always had the one of them that approached immortality with the most skepticism of the Mechanisms. How disappointing that he had been right.

Let me know what you think! If you like to be tagged in other works in this fandom (or others) or have any questions my inbox is open. Stay safe! :)

[neomikey]

For June 2021's #ryukoprompt!  Time to go swimming!

I don't have a favorite “summer memory,” exactly.  However, I do remember growing up that summers were always a proper season book-ended by the end and start of the school years.  The weather grew warmer, I was relieved for three months of the obligation of going to school, and that time was spent hanging out with friends any day of the week, playing video games, and sometimes my parents would take us all somewhere for vacation.

Some place that was a staple of the summer, though, was the Hobart Community Pool, though we all just said “the Hobart Pool.”  As of this writing, it's 59 years old and is still in operation today, though they've added more from when I was a child.  Growing up through the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s, it was a basic pool – technically two – and we all loved it.

It was a meeting place, where you and everyone you knew were likely to bump into each other at some point in the summer.  All manner of people grouped there, from the young to the old.  We would spend hours there at the pool and the time always went by quicker than expected.

You passed through a wooden gate house, where you would show your membership or pay them.  The main area where the staff was had two large windows – one facing out to incoming customers and one facing in towards the main pools.  They had music playing there, pool supplies on the wall, and were generally easygoing.  All the staff were that I encountered.  You then passed through a gendered show area, where you could clean up and change, and then you were put out in front of the kiddie pool.

Almost no adults ever hung out in there.  The shallowest end of the pool was two feet deep, where the absolute beginners – regardless of age – could literally get their feet wet.  The pool deepened as you went further in, until you stood at one end where it just reached three feet.  There was no paint on that end to mark how deep it was, but I remembered as a kid being absolutely sure it was three feet, since the water went up to me the same amount when I was in the other pool.  I felt like a genius.

The other pool was the main pool, which is in the shape of a large L. The main rectangle went from three feet gradually down to five feet. Of course, this also meant that as you went deeper, the people swimming generally were older as well.  This pool was mainly where I and everyone else did our swimming.  In the middle was a huge water slide, and at the end deep in the five-foot section was a basketball hoop.  I remember my dad frequently playing over there.

The smaller rectangle of the L was the deep end – 12 feet – and was separated by a rope which no one was allowed to cross.  This was where the diving boards were.  Normally, the deep end was only for people using the diving boards, but oftentimes they would allow open swimming as well.  I remember being older and being able to get to the bottom, where I would stand and walk, simply because I could.   There were three diving boards.  Two of them were on the outside and were short, and the high-dive was in the middle.  I think it was two stories tall at the top.

Every hour they would blow a whistle, announcing that “adult swim” had started, meaning that the kids needed to get out, rest, and let the “old people” enjoy the whole pool to themselves.  I still remember the whistle blows they would do.  If I recall correctly, there would be three bursts, which were echoed by all the other lifeguards who heard it.  When it was time to go back in, they would do one long blow that would shift its intensity, mimicking how we would say “alley-oop!” when hoisting something heavy.

Adult swim was also when people would take the time to visit their cafe...though I use the word lightly. It was there to sell cheap food like candy, hotdogs, and soft drinks. It was also the place where I was introduced to banana Laffy Taffy, and to this day, I still love the stuff.  Park benches were set up in a lightly protected area, and I remember occasionally seeing curious wasps in that area.

The pool used to have a line of trees protecting it.  They were tall evergreen trees planted side by side, and did fantastic work blocking out the wind when it came from that direction.  However, eventually Hobart's hospital was built and they built a road right through what used to be a prairie to give it better access.  Part of the road's installation involved taking down those trees.  I didn't think they “needed” to, I thought there was plenty of room, but I'm sure there was some proper reason.  My friend Tim joked this was going to cause a lot of accidents.  He said guys were gonna be driving, see a hot lady in a bikini, and get distracted.

I have many memories from there.  Most good, some bad.  I loved being underwater and would frequently be under there.  My eyes would eventually hurt from the chlorine, but that was the price I willingly paid.  I would sometimes be underwater and swim through crowds of people.  I'm told I surprised a few of them, as they weren't expecting to suddenly see a child going past their feet.

My friends and I would frequently play there.  There would be light roughhousing, but it was mostly just swimming, playing, and laughing.  We would talk about or mimic stuff we had seen in video games.  I remember squirting a line of water out through my teeth and calling it a laser.  When we were allowed to swim in the deep end, I jumped off the side and brought my limbs close to my body, mimicking Iron Man in the Captain America and the Avengers arcade game. This always got me pretty deep pretty quickly.  Other times we would try out stuff, such as someone lying on the bottom, then someone else standing on their back to keep them there.  When the person on the bottom had to come up for breath, he would stand and topple the person on top over.  I remember back skin feeling really weird on my feet.

There was a way to swim during adult swim if you were a kid, and that was to pass the “Dolphin” exam.  You had to get from one end of the main pool, down the length, and to the other side.  You had to do it while swimming properly – freestyle – and had to go straight.  It was difficult for me to pass and I remember once skewing to the side and hitting the side of the pool near the water slide.  I failed that one.  I know I did pass it at least once and wore the Dolphin badge on my swim trunks with pride that summer.  

There was one incident where I thought I was older, mature, and brave enough to tackle the high dive.  I stood in line, ascended, and then once at the top, looked over the edge.  It was so, so far down and I couldn't bring myself to jump.  I remember some people calling up to me, telling me I wasn't allowed to climb down and I had to jump.  I appreciate them trying to motivate me to get over my fears, but it only made me more scared. Eventually, I climbed down and broke into tears.  My dad was there to comfort me as I came down and I told him I would never swim again. That turned out to be wrong.

When I was old enough to drive, I started going to the Hobart Pool on my own.  My whole life up to that point I had always gone there with someone and getting to be there on my own felt like another step into adulthood.  It was a nice feeling that if it was hot out and my parents were busy, I could hop in my vehicle and just go.

As time went on, my time wasn't as structured.  I was no longer in school, I had jobs, and held different interests where the pool didn't interest me as much.  Summers were no longer an event, but something in the background that meant we had to roll down the car windows.  I didn't have a need for membership to the Hobart Pool anymore, and it wasn't until years later after I was married that I realized how long it had truly been since I had gone swimming.

Once the pandemic is over, my wife and I agree – we're hitting the pools hard.

[getthesamovarready]

First Sight

I just love this chapter honestly

also on ao3

Chapter 2: twist of fate

TK is sitting at the kitchen counter when he walks in the door. “Long night?” He asks, bringing his coffee to his lips. Owen cringes silently, shutting the door behind himself. He shouldn’t be coming home to his son trying to parent him, and his stomach rolls over in guilt. Immediately though, TK drops his frown, descending into a fit of laughter. “Glad to see you’re embracing your new surroundings Dad.” He stands from his stool, padding across the floor. “Don’t take too long getting ready, we have to be early today.” He pats him on the shoulder, making his way to the stairs. “Oh!” He calls, halfway up the stairs. “I really hope there doesn’t end up being a bunch of mini-Strands running around Texas.”

Owen pours himself a desperately needed coffee from the pot TK brewed, following him upstairs with a laugh. With the amount of times he caught TK sneaking home in the early hours, he supposes he should let his son enjoy this one. Even if it is a little humiliating.

He didn’t notice it this morning, but when he takes off his shirt he catches a whiff of perfume, and it shocks the breath right out of his chest. He can feel her hands on his chest, and his stomach twists as he tries to shake it off.

It takes a shower, and the familiar comfort of his skincare routine, to stop heart racing and memories of last night sending tingles down his spine. His hard work is undone, however when he starts to dress for work.

His work shirt is perfume-free, but still his fingers fumble with the buttons, unable to avoid thinking of unbuttoning the back of Michelle's dress last night. He screws his eyes shut, willing his shirt to cooperate with his hands.

When he makes his way downstairs he is flustered, and TK's casual leaning on the countertop doesn't help. "I thought I said not to take too long?" He smirks at him, glancing at the clock. An hour isn't too long, Owen thinks, but he doesn't respond. He just scowls at TK. "Oh wow." TK chuckles. "Must have been some night." He notes Owen's flush. "She really did a number on you didn't she?" He pushes himself off the counter to head to the door. "You sure you're fit to drive in that daze?" TK calls from the doorway, and Owen leaves indents in his fingers as he squeezes the keys in his fist.

Xx

Knocking on Dustin's door probably wasn't what Owen had in mind when he suggested that she celebrate Iris's birthday. He definitely wasn't suggesting that she slam at it, and scream until he called the cops. But that's what she did. And she actually feels a little better, kicking his house. She feels a little of her tension dissipate.

So she doesn't even feel that guilty when Carlos's squad car pulls up. She even nearly smiles when she greets him. She doesn't feel the usual guilt when he has to handcuff her.

She doesn't smile, however, when he pauses. And her chest tightens when he coughs. "What's that?" He asks her, and she whips her head around to question him. He's staring right at the back of her shoulder.

She flushes instantly, remembering Owen unbuttoning her dress, kissing her neck, his teeth dipping lower to nip at her shoulder. She turns her head forward again, determined not to answer Carlos's question.

"Michelle…" She huffs, desperately wishing she could tug her sweater to cover the bruise. "Do you have a hickey on your neck?"

"So what if I do?" She snaps. She's a grown woman, what's it to him what she does anyway? She starts to walk towards the car, Carlos close behind.

"I just...you didn't tell me you were seeing anybody." There is a hint of disappointment in his voice, and she realises that maybe she's been more distant than she thought recently, if he really thinks she could hide something like that.

"I'm not." She tells him when he opens the door, and her stomach twists at the look on his face.

"So who?" He starts to ask, closing the door behind her and slipping into the front of the car. "So who was that?" He points at his own neck, concern lacing his voice.

"A guy." She mumbles.

"A guy? Just some random guy?"

She sighs. "I met him at the Honky Tonk last night." This is honestly way more humiliating than the handcuffs around her wrists.

"Last night? You let some guy you don't know do that?" He's eyeing her through the rear-view, and she squirms. "I'm assuming you did more than just…" He huffs out a sigh, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "You let some random guy you don't know take you home?"

"Actually… I took him home." It gets exactly the reaction she expected.

"Michelle!" He groans. "What the hell? You let a stranger into your house? He could have been a murderer! Or like… robbed you? What's wrong with you?"

"Not everyone is a criminal Carlos." She groans. "Some people are normal!"

"Says the woman I just arrested for violating a restraining order for the fifteenth time!" She slumps back in her seat. He has a point, and it's not the first time he's tried to convince her that maybe Dustin might be innocent.

"If you people would do your jobs I wouldn't have to violate any orders, because you would have found out what happened." She snaps back. "It's her birthday Carlos, I can't just let her go on her birthday."

"We're not gonna have any new birthdays to celebrate anytime soon are we?" She struggles for a moment over his question, wondering what on earth he could possibly mean.

"Oh my God, Carlos!" She scoffs. "I'm not a total idiot."

"I just had to be sure." He eyes her again through the mirror.

"Whenever you want to stop being my father and start being my friend, just tell me." She glances out the window. "Hey, I start work in twenty, can you just drop me there?"

"Michelle, I'm not an Uber." He chuckles.

"I wasn't gonna tip." She smirks at him, chuckling when he takes the turn for the firehouse. "He was lovely, by the way. Not even a little bit murdery."

Carlos, back to being her friend again, laughs at her. "Good."

"You know," she leans forward. "Normal friends, when their friend has sex for the first time in a very long time, are happy for their friends."

"It's not that I'm not happy for you, Chica." He taps his hands against the steering wheel. "It's just...not like you. And you've made some...questionable decisions recently." She isn't sure if he's talking about Billy or...everything else in her life. But she wouldn't call Billy 'recent', so she assumes he's talking about the multiple arrests in the last few years, and everything else since Iris went missing. "It just feels very… new-Michelle."

"I know." She mumbles behind him. It is very new-Michelle. She'd had this very problem last night. "He was really nice though." She smiles, blushing as she thinks of how sweet he was about her little freakout. "He was really nice to talk to."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did lots of talking." Carlos scoffs, smirking.

"We did, actually. We talked a lot."

"So what does he do?" Carlos asks casually, and she flushes.

"I don't know."

"What's his name?"

"Owen...something. " He eyes her suspiciously.

"You talked to this guy, a lot. You took him home with you. And you don't know what he does? Or who he is?" Her cheeks are absolutely burning. "I don't even have a last name to find out about him! How are you supposed to show him to me? How could you have sex with someone and not let me know what he looks like?"

"It didn't seem important." She defends, omitting the fact that it seemed important to her not to know any of these things last night. "I'm sorry that I can't show him to you. He was quite something." She grins.

"Just his looks? Or?" He doesn't finish his question, and she giggles slightly when she finishes it for him in her head.

"Not just his looks." She sends a wink through the mirror, and he nods approvingly. She smiles out the window, the tension from Carlos's initial questioning gone completely.

He lets her off at the firehouse, with yet another warning. "Don't want you to make a bad impression on the new team." He tells her, unlocking the handcuffs. "Good luck today, Chica." He pulls her in for a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Come out for a drink with me after work?" She asks, pulling away. "I'll probably be taking the team out anyway, but it's Iris's birthday." She explains. "We should celebrate it."

"I'd love to." He squeezes her hand with a nod, turning to get back into the car.

It takes her a while to walk inside, and she's glad Carlos managed to drop her off early. It's quiet when she enters, and completely different to the last time she was here.

Nothing is the way it used to be, and she has to wander a bit before finding her office. She doesn't see a soul, and she can't help but wonder where they could all be. But she's not in uniform yet, and her shift starts in five minutes. So she finds the changing rooms, and she's just made it back downstairs to meet the team, when the alarm blares, and a group of unfamiliar people rush past her.

Tim and Nancy follow the group at a stroll, and smile weakly at her when she sees them. "You guys okay?" She asks, casting her eye over the new firehouse. The pair of them shrug. "You met them? What are they like?"

"They're nice." Tim shrugs, frowning slightly. "They're okay I guess."

"Captain Strand is more than okay." Nancy mumbles with a smile, squirming her eyebrows at Michelle. The pair of them chuckle, while Tim shakes his head.

“You guys okay? You ready for this?” She’s pretty sure she’s not ready for their first call out in six months, but still, she leads them to the ambulance, her hands shaking only a little when she reaches for the door handle. “If you’re not…” She can technically get dispatch to send another team. But that probably wouldn’t do any good.

But Tim and Nancy assure her that they are fine. Months out of the rhythm of things, has the three of them silent the whole drive there. Each of them rehearsing the motions in their heads.

Michelle thinks she's finally okay, that she's ready for her first call in months. Until she hears the Captain speak, and her stomach drops. "So we have some room to work." She catches, her stomach twisting itself into knots as she steals herself for the inevitable.

"You mean give us some room to work?" He spins around like a shot. "This scene belongs to us." She looks him in the eye only briefly, a warning for him to calm his obvious panic, before she brushes past him. She does her very best to hide hers, shoving it down as far as it will go before starts to direct Tim and Nancy.

"You must have missed the part where they made me the captain of the 126." It's suggestive, late-night, Owen, and she whips around, steeling her features.

"Michelle Blake, Paramedic Captain." She introduces herself coldly. "And this scene is medical, so I run the call."

"Woah, since when does EMS tell Fire what time it is?" She has to give it to him, he does a remarkable job pretending never to have met her before. Probably something to do with his newfound talent for getting on her nerves.

"Guess you didn't read the Travis County Manual, did you?" She presses, starting to get to work.

"I'm more of a … visual learner." She doesn't miss his eyes trailing over her, and she turns her head to catch him in the act.

"In Texas, EMS calls the shots involving medical emergencies." He has a hint of a smirk on his lips, and she can't help but snap at him. "So you do what I say, Captain." It's so unlike last night, and if she wasn't freaking out so much she would probably find it funny. He hides it well, but she can tell that Owen finds it hilarious.

She's good at her job. She always has been. She knows that she's impressive, but it's nice to have an audience, and this one is enthralled. They've obviously heard that the old 126 was in serious need of a re-haul, and probably didn't have high hopes for the remaining members. When she's finished, she looks back at Owen, and he's still watching her.

"Nice work, Captain." He smirks when she passes, following behind Tim and Nancy. "Impressive."

"Welcome to Texas, Captain." She winks. Immediately, she regrets it at the flush of his cheeks. And she's brought back to this morning, in her robe, letting him out of her house. She starts back on her way to the ambulance, blushing furiously.

Xx

He's in his office when she returns. He looks like he's deep in paperwork, she suspects the county manual, but almost as soon as she sees him he's out of his seat, making his way to her office. "Captain Michelle Blake." He stops in her doorway, leaning against it. "What a happy coincidence."

"This is not a happy coincidence." She huffs, dropping into her chair. "This." She gestures to him. "Is payback from God for my bad decisions." Of course she couldn't have a one night stand and move on with her life, of course there would be some kind of consequences.

"From God?" He chuckles. "I didn't think you were all that concerned about God, Michelle?" At least, not when that god wasn't Owen in the middle of the night.

"When things like this happen, I start to think maybe I should be." Carlos is going to have a field day with this.

"You say payback." He steps into her office fully. "I say fate." She can't help but smile, blushing softly. "Come on, it's like a movie. I think that if God had anything to do with it, he's giving us a sign." It is, it's exactly like some stupid romantic comedy.

"It's not a movie Owen." She sighs. "This can't be anything, you get that, right?" He doesn't seem to get it, his head cocking to the side with a hint of a pout. "Owen, we work together now. It would be a really bad idea." He looks like he disagrees, moving to sit on the edge of her desk.

"Okay." He sighs with a nod.

"No one can know about this. No one can even suspect." A smile springs on her lips unexpectedly. "So, if in future, you could avoid checking me out when I'm working, that would be a big help."

"Fine." He grins with a laugh, before sobering up quickly. "So, you okay? First day back?" If it hadn't started with such a shock, she would probably be less okay. But she nods silently. "I know the place is really different. I know that can be difficult…"

"I'll be fine, Owen." She assures him. She's actually a little bit glad the place looks so different. She had been worried about being assaulted with memories at every turn. But the place is bright, shiny, and new. "Thank you."

He nods softly, standing from the desk. Just when he reaches the doorway, he taps it with a sigh, turning around. "I should probably warn you." He bites his lip. "TK works here, he's on the team."

"TK?" Her eyes widen, and he turns again. "Your son TK?" And he's gone.

Xxx

When she gets back from their next call, there is a cupcake sitting on her desk. Owen, the only person she can think of who would do this, isn't in his office, so she can't immediately go berate him for doing something so sweet. So she approaches the offending cake, picking up the post-it that sits under it.

Couldn't get a candle quickly. For your sister. -O

She sets the cake aside, smiling at it every now and then, while she does her paperwork. She decides against indulging immediately. It's the only cake Iris is going to get, and it doesn't seem right to eat it on her own, at work.

Owen is in the kitchen when she emerges for a cup of coffee. "Captain Blake." He greets her casually. "How's your first day back?" His head tilts towards someone rummaging in the fridge. "TK whatever you're looking for isn't going to be there if you haven't found it already." His eyes dart over to her when she straightens her spine. He smirks at her, and she glares pointedly at him.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for Dad." TK admits, emerging from the fridge with a soda. "We really gotta work on the snacks in this place. And by that I mean I gotta do it, I don't trust you.  We need things like cookies, and chips."

"There's a bakery around the corner." They offer in unison, both of them immediately flushing and avoiding the other's eyes.

"It's great," Michelle continues, thinking about many an impromptu celebration catered by said bakery. "And they like us, might even do you a deal." They liked the old team anyway, but she's sure they'll warm to any member of the 126.

TK thanks her, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

"Way to not be suspicious." She laughs, almost going to nudge his arm, but thinking better of it at the last minute.

"He'll just think I've been sneaking around in secret eating illicit cookies." He brushes it off easily.

"Thank you, for the cupcake. It was really sweet of you." She blushes. "I really appreciate it."

"I told you to celebrate today." He shrugs. "I wanted to make sure you could."

"Speaking of celebrating." She starts, twisting her fingers. "I think we, the team I mean, should go out for a drink? After work?" When he starts to nod, she bites her lip nervously. "The thing is… we always went to the Honky Tonk after work." He stops nodding, twisting his lip awkwardly. "I think Tim and Nancy would like it if we did the same. And I told Chris last night I'd take the new team…"

"Sure."

"Sure? That's okay? It won't be weird?"

"Of course it'll be weird." He scoffs. "It's fine though, tell the team." She nods, starting to walk away, when he stops her. "I uh...I just wanted to ask. I left my number, on your bedside table. If I didn't work here...would you have called it?"

Her answer is easy, and it twists in her stomach. "Yes."

[allegedlyxen]

Rating the magnus archives fears by how hot their avatars are!

the eye: i’m only going off of jon because he’s the archivist but in my brain s1 jon was a tired gremlin, man did not sleep. s5???? very hot, shaved head and an endless amount of love for his bf and we love a healthy relationship in this household, 8/10.

the vast: Simon fairchild’s voice do be kinda hot doe, he reminds me of like every post describing boarding school and dark academia.points deducted because i’m pretty sure he’s old as fuck.5/10

the desolation: Agnes Montegue is so pretty.i know she doesn’t look like this in canon but when i picture her i see merida from brave, i too would risk my life to kiss her. 10/10

the buried: every avatar of the buried is an old grave digger. 0/10 too much dirt

the corruption: Jane Prentiss is a solid 9/10 and i only deducted points because of the fact that she fills people with bugs

the lonely: peter lukas is an old sea captain and i can only picture him in a big, bright, and yellow raincoat + hat. 4/10 Lonely Eyes is a funny ship

the stranger: Nikola Orsinov was a queen, androgynous goals. 7/10 she’s the reason tim’s dead so points off

the slaughter: Melanie King gouged out her own EYES to get away from the institute. can you imagine the willpower needed for that? 12/10 id let her stab me any day

the dark: Manuela is probably pretty cute but i doubt you’d ever really see her because she’s an avatar of the dark. 5/10

the hunt: i’ve expressed my attraction to julia montauk but i will do it again! she literally has that “i’d kick your ass” energy and i love it. plus you cannot convince me she is not a bi QUEEN. 20/10

the end: Oliver Banks objectively terrifies me, but i’d imagine he’s pretty cute despite the fact that he constantly looks like he’s never slept and smells like death. 4/10

the flesh: Jared Hopworth also objectively terrifies me but he is the funniest fuckin villain and i love it. plus he’s like 5x the size of a normal dude and his skin has to be soft if it’s constantly shifting so he’s probably good at cuddling! 7/10 you can have my bones

the web: Annabelle Cane is a manipulative queen and she knows it, 8/10 please no spiders

the spiral: 1000/10 Michael Shelley deserved better. moving on!

Bonus!

whatever breekon and hope were: 100/10 they only had each other and that’s very sexy of them

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of February 19th, 2020

Best of this Week: DCeased: Unkillables #1 - Tom Taylor, Karl Mostert, Trevor Scott, Neil Edwards, John Livesay, Rex Lokus and Saida Temofonte

Ahhh shit, here we go again. DCeased was awesome.

In much the same way that the original Marvel Zombies filled my heart with dread, DCeased absolutely blew my mind with the short six issues that it took place in. It was equal parts violent and heartbreaking as the heroes of Earth had to figure out a way to either stop the Anti-Life virus or die trying. We had a good spin off with the single issue, A Good Day to Die and now we have Unkillables, another spin off focusing on some of the more violent heroes and villains while the events of the main series unfold elsewhere.

The book begins on the first day of the Anti-Life virus being released as Deathstroke finds himself on a job in Kentucky. Throughout the original story, I did kinda wonder what people like him or the other assassins were up to, given that we saw a select number of other dead supervillains throughout like Giganta and Clayface. As Tom Taylor and Karl Mostert unfold the story we see that Slade Wilson was killing some infected Neo-Nazis before an attempt to renegotiate his price ends with him infected too.

Mostert and Taylor set this opening up in a very comedic way with the white supremacits running from something in the local church as Deathstroke looks on, puzzled as to why they’re running before taking a few out before heading inside. Mostert, Rex Lokus and I think Trevor Scott then give us an awesome single page of Slade facing down a horde of zombies with only his gun and a bloody sword. He looks like a badass and, in the following panels, proves it by killing them with ease.

Mostert doesn’t shy away from Slade’s brutal violence and shows how fluidly he can kill with dynamic poses as he shoots and slices multiple enemies at once. This accentuated by the excellently colored spurts of blood from the zombies and the gory detail of blood on the walls. There’s even a really good panel of one of the zombies being cut in half with Scott inking the silhouette as their blood and insides drip down. Even better is when Slade gets infected and violently rips his mask off before coming back to his senses while choking a guy.

Tom Taylor introduces a unique aspect here as Deathstroke returns to normal on the second day of the virus being introduced. As we learn later, it’s due to Slade’s unique super soldier DNA that allows him to fight off the infection, effectively being immune to a point. I can definitely see this being a double edged sword for him as the infection seems to last for a day before being purged from his system. This makes him unique amongst both the heroes and villains of Earth as maybe a potential savior.

I’d also like to praise Saida Temofonte for her amazing lettering as well. She does an amazing job, not only with word balloons, but with captions that have a bloody background and the typefaces she uses for sound effects. For the most part, they fit the gruesomeness of the story with intense and bloody BANGs to eerie RRRRRRs, signaling the incoming zombies. Deathstroke’s scream as he claws his own face is intense, scratchy and blood curling until we get an AMAZING title page with names filling the empty space.

As things progress, we cut to Jason Todd in the Batcave. The silence is eerie as we get one small “spsh” sound as Jason steps through the blood trail of Bruce, Tim and Dick. Unfortunately, this seems to take place shortly after the events of DCeased #2 when an infected Dick and Tim attack and infect Batman, leaving Alfred to kill them all. Jason, like most readers, is shocked because he thought Bruce would have found a way to survive and then he’s met by Ace the Bathound. After letting Ace see that he’s not infected, Jason proceeds to make graves for his brothers and father before speeding off in the Batmobile to find the rest of his family with Ace.

These scenes are powerful as Jason, normally the black sheep of the family, has to deal with the fact that he’s one of few left. Why wasn’t Bruce prepared? Why was he the one left and not Dick or Tim? Damian’s still alive in Metropolis, but effectively, Jason is all alone. Mostert and I believe Neil Edwards show Jason’s love for his family as he carves out wooden headstones and buries them in the cave. Without a word of dialogue, this speaks volumes about Jason’s love for his family.

Elsewhere in Gotham, Ravager, Rose Wilson with a missing eye, unlike her main continuity counterpart, is curled up in her apartment in fear. The zombies are pounding on her door when Slade radios in and tells her it’s time to escape. Rose has the ability to see into the future in short bursts and sees that everytime she goes for the door, Zombies come through and kill her. Deathstroke, however, has a plan. As a side note, it’s great to see Rose in gear similar to what she wore in Geoff Johns’ “Teen Titans” while also complementing Deathstroke’s current armor.

Unfortunately for Deathstroke, as he keeps his eyes to the sky, he sees the terror that is an infected Man-Bat flying at him with a terrifying SCReeeee as he crashes through the window and smashes the plane on the roof Rose runs to her dad and, believing him to be infected, plunges her sword through his chest and he screams “Ow.” This scene is pure comedy made even better by the dramatic rain and fire in the background. Soon after, Mirror Master, Evan McCulloch, shows up offering them help.

I don’t know what the reason is for using the Scottish version of the character, but it doesn’t really matter as the representation of the Mirror Dimension is still cool as hell. While wearing special glasses that block signals, they walk through the dimension and Mostert draws an epic depiction of it with all of the violence, gore and death through the many mirrors while the characters look miniscule compared to the vastness of it all. The Mirror Dimension has always been terrifying and McCulloch could do a lot to solve the problem, but it makes sense that he doesn’t. Cause it’s terrifying.

After many pages, we arrive at the rest of the stars (fodder) of the series in Vandal Savage, Solomon Grundy, The Creeper, Cheetah, Lady Shiva, Bane, Deadshot and Captain Cold. I do have a bit of a continuity issue as Cold was shown to have been one of the Infected during the events of “A Good Place to Die,” but alternatively this series could explain how he got there or, much like that story, it’s off base with what’s happening in the main pages. But some of these additions are pretty interesting to say the very least.

Savage is near immortal, but has been shown to have been killed before. There’s a high chance that using Deathstroke, he’ll find a way to cure and rule over the people of the Earth after the heroes leave. Grundy is already dead, so can he get infected? The Creeper is much like Deathstroke in that he can heal from anything, so it makes sense that he’s managed to survive. Cheetah is strong and fast, but I don’t rate her chances high and the rest, while immensely skilled, are still just human. This is a ragtag group, but they’re not averse to getting the job done by any means.

The rest of the issue focuses on Jason Todd and his fight to rescue the remaining members of the Batfamily. Mostert, Lokus and John Livesay give readers an awesome assault on the Gotham PD with Cassandra Cain as Black Bat, James Gordon and Harvey Bullock fighting back against the zombies. Cass awesomely kicks and knees zombies in the background while Harvey and Jim shoot them. I LOVED Cass as Batgirl/Black Bat and it was awesome to see the return of the iconic costume and a character that I like so much.

Of course, Temofonte thrills with the lettering here again. She sells the panic in both Jim and Bullock as they fight off the horde as well as the frankness of Bullock as he has to break it to Jim that Blck Bat is the only one coming. The static-y bubbles that she uses on Bullock when he gets infected is also amazing and saddening, but gets even worse when Cass has to “CRCK” his neck to kill him. Soon after, Jason plows through the GCPD in the Batmobile with a “CRNNNCH” that shrinks around the vehicle.

Jason rescues Cass and Jim after shooting the remaining zombies in the head and plans to get the hell out of dodge. Jim, still holding out on the idea of hope, tells Jason that Barbara is still out there somewhere, but Jason, knowing that it’s no longer the time to keep secrets, reveals his and Cass’ identities and shows Jim that Barb is dead. He then takes the haggard detective to her last known location and Mostert and Lokus sell the utter despair of the scene.

Infected versions of Barb, Stephanie Brown, Batwoman and Catwoman were killed by Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn in Issue #3 of DCeased (if I remember right). This scene of James finding his daughter is depressingly grey and his facial expressions show us just how painful this is for him. He’s lost just about everything and cries in his grief. Jason, however, finds the dead body of the Joker and ties him to the front of the Batmobile before they all make their escape to Bludhaven.

This first issue of a three part miniseries already has me as excited as the original story did. I love each of the characters being used, the callbacks to past history and the way that everyone is being written. Each of these violent characters sees that there’s no need to hold back anymore as the regular rules are tossed out of the window. Everyone now has different amounts of pain and grief to deal with while others have different hopes of power or a cure. Ultimately, I don’t think things will end ultra well given the events of the main series, but I have no doubts that this will stand on its own.

Tom Taylor continues to be excellent when writing the despair and tragedies of DCeased and lifting up lesser characters, like The Creeper. His scripting and dialogue are a joy to read and I really feel like he’s got a grasp on everyone. Karl Mostert brings their all to this book with awesome panels and scenes that make readers want to wince, but look again to see the utter brutality of what they’re witnessing. His art is stellar. The various inkers definitely bring it to life alongside Lokus’ vibrant colors and Temofonte’s amazing letters.

I’m already gleefully anticipating the next issue and it more than justifies the $5.99 price, high recommend!

Also, y'know, support me on Patreon: patreon.com/TyTalksComics

[skullsandfairylights]

Writer’s Month 2019

Day 6: Word Prompt: kids 

Mark loved his son. Tim was his world. Especially after all the hassle he had gone through during the adoption process; there was the question of stability around Mark’s main source of income coming from his YouTube channel and as well as how he would deal with travelling when con-time came around due to him being a single parent. But in the end, the case went through and Mark found himself with the adorable little Timothy. Tim was only four years old when he came to live with Mark and, in the two years that they had been a family, both Tim and Mark had settled into a comfortable routine.

           Each morning, Mark would wake up early and go for a run or walk with Chica before he prepped for breakfast. Mark would then wake Tim who would pad through to the kitchen, clamber up onto his seat to eat and watch cartoons on the kitchen TV as he ate his breakfast. Mark would then drop his son off at school with money for his lunch in his pocket and his little rucksack on his back before he drove home to record some videos for the day.

           On the days when recording would take longer than planned, Mark relied on one of his friends to pick Tim up. Most of Mark’s friends didn’t mind picking up the now six-year-old as Tim had a way of charming everyone he met, especially his pseudo-aunts and uncles, who all adored the little boy.

           Then when all videos had been edited and uploaded to the channel, the little family would get together and eat dinner before spending quality time together; watching a movie or playing games until it was time for bed.

           Mark would then tuck Tim in and whisper a “Sleep tight, Little Biscuit.” followed by a kiss to Tim’s hairline before Mark left the room switching off the lights as he went.

           Life was good for the Fischbach’s.

 ~💕~

 “So, did you have a good time today?” Mark asked as he entered the dining room carrying two plates of chicken with mash potatoes and mixed vegetables. He placed one plate, with a slightly smaller portion pre-cut into mouthful-size pieces, in front of his son before he settled down in his seat opposite.

           “Yeah, Daddy! It was really cool! We went to the park! But it wasn’t Kyle’s mom or dad who took us, it was his big brother, Jason! He pushed us on the swings and he spun us on the roundabout! And we went super super super fast! It was awesome! Then we played hide and seek in the trees and bushes around the park! And I won because Jason helped me climb a tree and Kyle couldn’t find me for ages!” Mark smiled as he listened to his son’s tale. He expected there might be a small bit of exaggeration concerning how long it took Kyle to find the other boy but so long as he was happy.

           “Remember to eat your dinner before it gets cold.” The adult in the room pointed out when Tim took a pause for breath.

           “Yes, Daddy!” Tim exclaimed, suddenly gathering a large amount of chicken and potato onto his fork and trying to shove it all into his mouth.

           “Not so much, Tim. Just what you can chew. You can talk after.” Tim nodded his head and began to take smaller, more appropriate bites of food. After managing to eat a few mouthfuls, Tim made a show of swallowing before taking a deep breath to start talking again.

           “Then, Jason took us to McDonald’s and I got a chicken nugget Happy Meal! And then! And then! Then we went for ice cream at Scooby Doo’s!” Mark smiled at his son, knowing that ‘Scooby Doo’s’ was Tim’s way of saying ‘Scoopy Doo’, a little cafe and ice cream shop in town that sold homemade ice cream in a wide variety of flavours from the normal and expected to those unique to the cafe.

           “That sounds like fun,” The adult remarked as Tim shovelled another forkful of food into his mouth. “Did you get your favourite?”

           “Yup! I gots a large cone and a flake!” Mark knew all about the flake, when he had picked Tim up, the boy had flecks of chocolate smeared into his t-shirt along with the large ice cream drip stains. “Then we went back to Kyle’s house and we played in his garden all afternoon! We played pirates and guarded our treasures from the evil shark that wanted to steal it! It was so much fun! We pretended that the treehouse in Kyle’s garden was our ship and Rodger was the shark!” Rodger being the other family’s pet dog; a small, excitable beagle. “And then Jason came outside and played with us in the treehouse! He was Davey Jones! And he tried sink our ship by controlling the shark! But then! We fed the shark Davey Jones’ hand like Captain Hook in Peter Pan! And we won!”

           “Well, it sounds like you had a very exciting day.” Mark smiled fondly at his son as the boy scraped the last bites of food into his mouth. Tim then carefully put his fork and knife together in the centre of his plate, copying his father’s actions. “So, I guess that means that it’s an early night for a certain little boy?”

           The look on Tim’s face evolved from a big smile to a look of horror and he suddenly yelled in protest, “But it’s movie night! We always stay up and watch movies on deh weekends!”  

           “But surely you’re too tired from your long day of being a pirate?”

           “No!”

           “Alright, well how about we go and run you a bath, then once you’re in your PJs, we can put a movie in?” Tim quickly nodded and scurried from his chair as Mark stood up and carried both his plate and Tim’s plate over to the sink, to wash up as Tim took his bath.

           The running footsteps alerted Mark to Tim’s presence and when he turned around, he found his son donned in his bathrobe, hugging a clear plastic box to his chest. Mark led the way through to the bathroom, where he filled up the tub with warm water and helped Tim to get settled. He then gave Tim his bath crayons and dropped a couple of toys into the water before he said, “I’ll just be in the kitchen, so just shout if you need anything.” Tim nodded his head though he seemed to be already engrossed in creating his first piece of artwork on the tiled wall.

           For the next fifteen minutes, Mark washed up the dishes and wiped the countertops before he retreated to Tim’s bedroom to set out the boy’s pyjamas. Once Mark had completed the few tasks he needed to, he rejoined his son in the bathroom.

           Tim had been busy during the time Mark had been away. The white tiles on the walls now held a collage of colourful pictures. One was, Mark assumed, supposed to be Tim and Kyle on a pirate ship, with a strange beagle-shark hybrid cresting the spiky waves, jagged teeth gnashing. Another image, Mark guessed, was supposed to be Tim’s family; Tim in the centre with Mark next to him, and then gradually scattered all around was Mark’s close friends who had all begun to fulfill large roles in the young boy’s life. Then the other images seemed to be a collection of rainbow animals, though if you asked Mark to identify them, he certainly would have struggled to give any definite names or labels.

           “Hey, Squishy, ready to wash your hair?” Tim turned his attention away from his latest drawing, something that used a lot of green, and nodded to his dad, dropping the crayon into the plastic box. Mark reached out for the children’s shampoo and set about washing his son’s hair for him. “Ready to get out now, or do you want to play some more?” Mark asked once Tim had finished rinsing the product from his hair.

           “Play more!” Tim exclaimed, enthusiastically, suddenly thrusting a shark toy into his dad’s hands, “You’re the shark, Daddy!”

           Mark laughed, glad he was already wearing short sleeves as he plunged his hands into the water to make the shark swim. “Okay, ten more minutes then we’ll get you ready for bed before we watch a movie.” Tim nodded and grabbed the boat toy, talking as though he were the pirates aboard the boat.

 By the time the Fischbach’s were ready to settle down and put on a movie, it was almost eight thirty. Tim had been changed into his Spiderman-themed pyjamas, had brushed his teeth and was hugging his favourite teddy bear; handmade with black button eyes and a little pink moustache, dressed in a little red-and-white striped jacket. Mark had similarly changed into his pyjama pants and a comfy t-shirt and was happily curled up under a blanket with his son under one arm and Chica under the other. The movie played in the quiet of the living room, the only other sound being the rhythmic thudding of Chica’s tail as it wagged happily against the fabric of the sofa.

           It wasn’t even half an hour into the film when Tim was out cold, snoring lightly. Mark sat in place for a while, ensuring that the boy was fully asleep before he carefully untangled himself from the blanket and lifted Tim into his arms. Chica padded behind the man, happy to follow along behind as Mark made his way to Tim’s bedroom. Carefully, he balanced the small boy against his chest with one arm as he pulled back the duvet to tuck Tim in.

           Tim stirred for a moment but showed no sign of waking. Mark smiled and bent down to kiss Tim’s forehead, whispering a good night into the boy’s hair. He turned back towards the door to see Chica staring at him, head tilted to one side. She sat at the end of the bed and lightly pet at the floor with her front paws.

           “Come on, Chica, out. Maybe when he’s older.” Mark whispered, gently urging the dog out the door. “Okay, bed, Chica.” Chica seemed reluctant but eventually she padded out the door, followed by Mark after he had switched on the night light on the chest of drawers.

           Mark then walked with Chica to the sliding door leading out to the patio and back garden and let the dog outside. He flicked on the outside lights and left Chica to her business as he set to work cleaning the bathroom.

           Half an hour later found Mark locking all the doors and checking the windows. Chica was back inside and likely to be upstairs in Mark’s bedroom, curled up on the dog pillow. On his way to his bedroom, he peeked his head into Tim’s room to check on his son and smiled as he saw the small lump shuffle. Mark smiled softly, pulling the door mostly shut but leaving it slightly ajar.

           Mark brushed his teeth and did his night time routine in the en suite of the Master bedroom. Chica raised her head to look at him as he made his way over to the bed. The dog bed was positioned at the end of the double bed, pressed up right against the side. Mark pet the dog’s head lovingly as he passed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the dog’s nose. “’Night pupper.”

           Climbing under the covers, Mark got himself comfortable before running through tomorrow’s plan. Tim was back at school. He’d gotten his homework done on the Saturday – Tim had sat with Mark as he edited some videos in the home office, working through the sheet of symmetrical shapes and looking for real-world examples - and his backpack was all ready to go by the front door. Mark had already planned out which videos he would be recording and which games he would play, he usually aimed to try and get two or three filmed, even if they weren’t all edited straight away.

           It didn’t take Mark long to fall asleep, listening to the slow huffs from Chica.

[upthenorthmountain]

Only Love: Anna

A new story, in two parts! Modern AU, rated T for language.

Part One: Anna

For a long time he was just - there, at the periphery. Anna had worked with Jessica a couple of years ago, and they’d stayed friends after she’d left, and now Jessica was engaged to (and living with) Sven, and they liked to socialise and invite people over for parties and dinner and to play board games and watch bad films, so over time their friends became Anna’s friends.

It was weeks before she spoke to him, besides asking him to pass the salt or apologising when she trod on his toe while walking past the sofa. Weeks before they had an actual conversation. But before that, she’d been - aware of him. Felt his gaze on the back of her neck sometimes. Found herself watching his hands when he opened a bottle of beer or moved a game piece. There was something there, something almost magnetic, and the more time she spent near him the stronger it became.

“Is Kris seeing anyone?” she said to Jessica, super-casually, in the kitchen at their Eurovision party.

“Why?” Jessica said. “D’you like him?”

“No, I’m just - making conversation…”

Jessica looked at her, amused, then said. “Yes, sorry, he’s a girlfriend.”

“Who has?” asked Sven, leaning past them to reach the corkscrew.

“Kristoff. Has a girlfriend.”

Sven gave Anna the same look Jessica just had, then said “Oh, yeah, what’s-her-face.”

“You don’t know your best friend’s girlfriend’s name?” Anna said, trying to make a joke to cover her embarrassment.

“Oh, he knows it,” Jessica said, “It’s Maria. He just pretends he doesn’t because he doesn’t like her. It’s very childish,” she added to Sven, who just grinned at her and went back through to the living room.

“Why doesn’t he like her?”

“I don’t know. He thinks she’s a bit of a drama queen. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type,” she continued. “Kris.”

“I’m not saying he is,” Anna said quickly.

“You usually go for the smooth talkers.”

“I guess. Have I met his girlfriend?”

“Possibly not? She doesn’t come here often, she doesn’t like Sven much either. She’s indifferent to me, as far as I know. She’s Italian, long black hair, busty, wings her eyeliner.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that was his type. Kris’s.”

“Well, apparently it is. They’ve been together a couple of years, on and off.”

-----

The next week they went to the pub quiz. Sven, and Jessica, and Anna, and Katie, and Tim, and Kristoff.

“No Maria tonight?” Anna said to him as they sat down, unable to stop herself.

“Not her thing,” was all Kristoff said.

Kristoff turned out to be very well-read. Sven was better at the sports questions, and Anna was good at music, and Jessica knew all the celebrity news; Katie was pretty good at current events, and Tim knew plenty about history, but Kristoff was definitely a reader. He was calmly confident when he knew an answer, and wouldn’t let Sven - who had declared himself Team Captain and commandeered the answer sheet - write for him. Anna had told herself not to sit next to him but instead she had ended up opposite, and couldn’t help constantly catching his eye. Each time he would smile, and she would try not to blush.

He wasn’t even that good-looking! He had okay eyes, and a reasonable smile, but his hair was scruffy and he had a big nose and Jessica was right, normally she liked charming men, men who made an effort. Not someone in a plain blue t-shirt and jeans with a hole in the knee - not ripped jeans, jeans with an actual hole - who mainly sat back and listened to everyone else talk.

When he did speak, though, it was always something worth saying.

He touched her shoulder when he asked what she wanted to drink. Because he could do that, he had a girlfriend, so no one would read anything into it, he was just trying to get her attention.

Nevertheless, her heart thrilled to it - he touched me - and then she felt ridiculous and silly but she couldn’t help it. She was beyond being able to help any of it.

-----

The next week at the pub quiz Anna was, by some miracle, a few minutes early, and the only other person there was Kristoff, sat at a table by himself with a pint of beer and his phone. Anna almost hesitated to join him, then told herself off and sat down as naturally as she could.

And he said “Oh, hi, Anna,” and they talked, although she was so cherishing the fact that she had him all to herself that later she couldn’t remember what she’d said. And then after a few minutes Sven and Jess arrived, and a couple of other people, and she had to move up, and throughout the evening her knee would occasionally touch Kristoff’s - she didn’t do it on purpose, of course not, but sometimes it would happen. The evening passed far too quickly.

She’d never seen herself as the pining type. If you wanted something, you went and got it. But age had brought with it enough maturity to recognise that sometimes it was worse to rush in. And there were some things you just couldn’t have, anyway, and another’s woman’s man was one of them.

She did finally meet - or at least see - Maria at Jessica’s birthday party. It was a house party, and very well-attended. Anna only managed to say a quick ‘Hi’ to Kristoff as she passed him in the hall, but she saw him many times, always with Maria holding his arm or hanging round his neck or dragging him along by the hand. He seemed happy enough.

-----

It was a couple of weeks later, during an early summer barbecue, that Jessica cornered her.

“So, Anna,” Jessica said. “I was wondering about something. I don’t think I’ve ever known you be single this long before! Is that deliberate? Or have you run out of men?”

“I’m not that bad.”

“No, seriously, is everything okay?”

“Yes! Yes, I guess.” Anna hesitated. “It’s just,” she said. “I like this guy…”

“Oooh, I knew it!”

“...and he has a girlfriend, so.”

“Serious girlfriend?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Aw, bugger. Bad luck.”

“Exactly.” Anna sighed, then squared her shoulders. “So, either I wait for them to break up then throw myself at him in my usual fashion, or I wait until I’ve got over myself and find someone else to throw myself at. I’ll be fine, it’s just, you know. Not great, at the moment.”

Jessica squeezed her arm sympathetically. “Is it someone I know?” she said.

Anna bit her lip. Jessica smiled. “You know, it’s funny,” she said. “I thought you liked - but he’s single. So it’s not him. Oh! I know what I’m going to do!”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to throw a dinner party and invite all my single friends and pair you all up -”

“Jess -”

“Oh, just for fun! It’ll be a laugh. Go on, say you will. I’ll find you someone nice.”

“- okay, fine. Whatever.”

-----

The last person she expected to see at Jessica’s singleton-dinner-party was Kristoff. But there he was, in the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine.

He smiled when he saw her. “Hi, Anna.” She felt herself start to blush, and quickly accepted a glass.

“Hi,” she said. “I thought -”

“Thought what?” He wasn’t looking at her, was lining up clean glasses.

“I thought this was a singles event. You know. Jessica kept talking about how she was pairing up all her friends.”

Kristoff looked confused. “I’m single,” he said. “Did you think I was still with Maria?”

“Um. Yes?”

“Well, I’m not.” He pulled a face. “So I got enlisted, as a spare man, which is very flattering.”

“So you’re - unchaperoned.”

“Mmm.”

“Maybe you’ll get into mischief.”

He smiled at her again then, a warm smile that made her stomach flutter. “Maybe I will.”

I thought you liked - but he’s single. Oh, oh, oh. Thank you, Jessica. Suddenly this evening was looking up, very very up.

“Food!” Jessica announced from the dining room. “Everyone come in here - right, Kris, you’re here next to Sue - and Ranj, you’re with Anna - aaaand Alison and Tim over here.” She beamed, pleased with herself, and Anna’s mood evaporated. She wasn’t being set up with Kristoff. She was being set up with this man, who was probably perfectly nice, but she didn’t care, she wanted to stamp her foot and say but I want that one.

Kristoff was sitting down where he’d been put, and introducing himself to this Sue woman. Anna hesitated, standing in the doorway, until Ranj pulled out her chair and raised his eyebrows at her. Right. Okay. Yes.

-----

After the meal, Tim offered very swiftly to walk Alison home, and the two of them left together. Everyone else had another drink, then Sue left, then Ranj, and by dint of a certain amount of lingering Anna managed to be left with just her hosts and Kristoff.

“So?” Jessica said cheerfully, as they all sat down with another drink. “How was my matchmaking? Are you going to give her a call, Kris?”

Kristoff sighed. “Jess, she’s a perfectly nice woman but you know I only came to make up the numbers. Because you needed another man and Sven said ‘call Kristoff, he finally gave Maria the heave-ho.’ I’m not looking to start anything new right now.”

“She liked you,” Jessica said.

“And I did not say you’d given M the heave-ho,” Sven added. “I said you’d kicked her to the kerb.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes. “She was perfectly nice but I’m not looking for a girlfriend right now,” he repeated. “Give me a chance to sort my head out.”

“How long ago did you break up?” Anna asked.

“Fortnight or so.”

“That’s ages,” said Sven. “Go on, make Jess feel useful, take her friend out.” Kristoff drank his beer, his jaw set.

“Alison and Tim seemed to hit it off,” Anna said quickly.

“They did,” Jessica said. “So that worked out. How about you and Ranj? What did you think?”

Anna hesitated. “He was…”

“You don’t have to be polite,” Sven said. “He’s a friend of a friend. Tell us what you really think.”

Anna looked at Jessica, who nodded.

“He was - fine,” Anna said. “But there’s a line, you know, between charming and smarmy. And he kept crossing it.”

“Fair enough,” Jess said.

“And he kept mentioning about how he was a doctor and he did a lot of private work, which is code for money, isn’t it,” Anna said. “And he said it a few times, which was a bit - obnoxious.”

Jessica nodded. “Fair enough,” she said again. “You can’t win ‘em all.”

“You let her off pretty easy,” Kristoff complained. Jessica finished her drink.

“Well, I didn’t have high hopes for Anna,” she said. “Because Anna is madly in love with someone, but she won’t tell me who.”

Anna froze, her glass halfway to her lips.

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Sven said, taking Jessica’s glass away. “Sorry, Anna.”

“It’s okay,” Anna muttered. Her whole body felt blazing hot. She could feel Kristoff’s eyes on her, and when she glanced at him - she just couldn’t help herself - he was giving her a long, appraising look.

“I’m sorry, Anna,” Jessica said. “You know what, I’m just going to - check something in the kitchen. Sven, could you help me, please.” She left, and after a second Sven followed her, looking confused.

Anna finished her drink, and put her empty glass down on the coffee table. The clink briefly broke the silence, but then, for once in her life, Anna couldn’t think of anything to say. Her heart was racing.

Kristoff cleared his throat. “Anna,” he said, his voice gentle and low. She looked up at him, and there was something in his eyes that made her shiver; a warmth, a question.

And she didn’t really know what to do with that. All she knew, all she was good at, was acting and pushing through, doing something unequivocal and definite and working out how wise it had been afterwards; and alcohol, of course, helped there.

So she stood, and she walked over to him, and she took his glass and put it down on the coffee table, and then she climbed into his lap and said “You and me, then - how about it?”

Kristoff looked at her, looking a little shocked. Anna looked up at him through her eyelashes, and pushed out her chest, and tried to kiss him - but he leant back, then put his hands on her hips - but only to lift her up and set her back down on her feet.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t think so, Anna.”

She took a step backwards and stumbled against the coffee table. The empty glasses fell over, and at the sound Jessica and Sven came back to the doorway.

“I’m going to go,” Anna said.

“What?”

“I’m going to go,” she repeated. “Home. Thank-you-I-had-a-lovely-evening-” and she quickly gathered her bag and her coat.

“Everything okay? Wait, I’m sure Kris will walk you -���

“I’m fine, it’s not far - bye -” and she was out the door.

Anna was wobblier than she’d expected in her heels, so after a hundred yards she wrenched them off and carried them. She knew her face was bright red and her eyes were stinging with humiliation. Why had she, how had she, oh god. Oh god.

“Anna! Anna, wait.” It was Sven, and he was jogging up to her. “You okay? What happened?”

“Nothing - I - I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink. Need to get home…”

She kept walking, and he fell into step beside her.

“If it were a different man we’d left you in the room with I’d worry he’d done something inappropriate,” he said.

Anna squeezed her eyes against tears. “Not that,” she managed to say.

“I know. I mean, if it was, just say, and he’s dead to me.”

“I appreciate it...but no. My fault. Had too much to drink. You didn’t need to come after me.”

Sven said nothing, just reached out and put his hand on her arm for a moment to direct her around a lamppost.

“My fault. I’m such an idiot,” Anna muttered to herself.

They walked in silence for a moment, then just as they reached her door, Sven said “Look, Kris is a decent guy. I’m sure whatever happened, it’s already forgotten.”

Anna just nodded, said “Thanks,” and went inside.

-----

She’d thought she’d felt bad when he’d been unobtainable. But now - she’d never been rejected so firmly, so completely, so politely. I don’t think so. There was nothing to do but cry herself to sleep, then lie in her bed all morning feeling sorry for herself, then scrub her face clean while crying in the shower, then lie on the sofa all afternoon crying into the cushions.

His smile, in the kitchen at the start of the evening. She’d let herself believe in it, load it with significance when it was just a smile for a friend. An acquaintance. Someone who kept turning up at the same social events as he did so he had to be polite. And she’d made a fool of herself, a complete and utter fool, and now he probably thought she was ridiculous and she’d never be able to look him in the eye again. No more smiles. She didn’t deserve them.

[no-fate-but-what-we-make]

Rah-Rah Ronnie - A Varchie HighSchoolSoccer!AU

Got this as a request, so I am posting it. Definitely longer than I was planning, but I like how it turned out. Like/Reblog/Etc and Enjoy! (Also I am super proud of this title)

“Okay River Vixens, listen up! Principal Weatherbee has demanded that we begin cheering for other sports teams this year. Apparently, there are other sports teams here at Riverdale, and they want some Vixen love.” Cheryl Blossom rolled her eyes, and tossed back her red hair over her shoulder.

Betty Cooper’s face went from nervous to terrified. She leaned over to Veronica and whispered, “Wait. Does that mean we’re going to have to do more?”

“Speak up, Blondie!” Cheryl shouted, directing the squad’s attention to Betty. 

Betty blushed and looked away. Luckily, Veronica was there to speak for her. “Betty and I were just wondering just how much more of our time the Vixens would be taking up now that we’re cheering for more teams?”

“Well, Ice Queen, I was only thinking of adding on an hour or two a day to our practices, to make up for our shorter practices on game days. We’ll have to come up with some new cheers for each sport, so I’ll ask around to some of my cheer captain friends. If you have an idea for a cheer that isn’t totally stupid, please demonstrate it to me so I can have the final say. The soccer team has tryouts today, and their games start before the football team, so we’ll begin learning some cheers for them.”

Veronica wasn’t sure if Cheryl was done speaking, but she figured now was as good a time as any to ask, “Will we still be working with Josie and the Pussycats for the football games?”

“Of course! It’s our signature work! That’s why practices will be two hours longer before football games, and if I deem necessary, we will be rehearsing up until our handsome boys make their way onto the field.” Cheryl clapped twice and announced, “Okay, ladies! Pre-season meeting adjourned!”

As they filed out, Veronica could hear all the River Vixens discussing their thoughts on the new requirements. She looked over at Betty, who looked lost and worried. She touched Betty’s shoulder which seemed to bring her out of her trance. “Don’t worry, Betty. We’ll make it work.”

Betty sighed and bit her lip. “I don’t know if we can, Ronnie. My mom only agreed to let me do the Vixens last year because it would look good on my college applications, and I promised to keep my grades up. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my grades up, what with all these extra games and practices.”

Veronica pulled Betty into a hug. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure Archiekins and Juggie will have a few helpful suggestions for us.” They walked to the picnic tables by the football field where they met up with Archie, Jughead, and Kevin.

“How are our three handsome musketeers today?” Veronica asked as she sat down at the table the boys had claimed.

Kevin grinned. “Better now that I got to watch thirty hot boys run around shirtless chasing after a ball.”

Everyone laughed, and Archie responded, “I hope you didn’t spend too much time looking at my ass, Keller!”

“Just the normal amount of time, Archiekins,” he replied cheekily.

Veronica was about to laugh again, until she realized something. “Archiekins, does this mean that you tried out for the soccer team?”

“Yeah. Football was getting boring, but I still wanted to do something athletic. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I just haven’t found the right time to say anything.”

Veronica waved off his apology. “It’s okay. Veronica Lodge dating a soccer player? Hmm, I could get used to that. I always worried that you would end up like Jason Street or something.”

“Don’t you mean Blossom?” Betty spoke up.

“No, she means Jason Street from Friday Night Lights. Remember when I tried to get you to watch it, but you didn’t want to because you didn’t understand why people wanted to watch football, let alone a tv show about football?” Kevin answered.

“Yeah, B. Street totally took an awful tackle that left him paralyzed from the waist down,” Veronica added.

“Whoa! Spoilers!” Kevin retorted, indignant.

“Really, Kev? It happens, like, ten minutes into the pilot episode!”

“Whatever. I was probably too busy making googly eyes at Tim Riggins.”

Veronica laughed at that. “Of course. Now, back on topic. Arch, did you make the team?”

Archie ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I only made JV. Varsity has more seniors and I’m only a first-year soccer player with football experience. Coach still wants me to kick for the football team, which the JV coach approved. It looks like I’ll be playing two sports this season.”

“That just means you’re playing one sport for me and one sport for yourself. I don’t even have to try out!” Jughead joked, eating another handful of popcorn.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be exercising your snark during the soccer games,” Archie replied dryly. 

“You know me too well, Archiekins,” Jughead said, placing his arm across Archie’s shoulders.

The two weeks before school started were full of pom-poms and memorization. Veronica and Betty seemed to see cheerleading everywhere they turned. The two girls practiced when they weren’t at practice. They ate, slept, and breathed cheer. 

The first soccer game of the season came during the Tuesday of the first full week of school. Veronica and Betty worked on homework at the library before heading over to the football-field-turned-soccer-field-for-a-day at 4pm. Cheryl was in top bitchy form, but for once, Veronica couldn’t blame her - she was nervous, too. Everyone stretched, and went over the cheers. 

At 4:05, people began arriving, and Betty scoped out Jughead in the crowd. He smiled at her as she waved her pom-poms at him. Veronica smiled to herself - Betty and Jughead were adorable, and Ronnie knew how much Jughead loved seeing Betty in the Vixen uniforms.

The boys finished their warm-ups and walked past the Vixens on their way over to the bench. Archie impulsively picked up Veronica and spun her around before kissing her and placing her back on the ground. “What was that for?” Veronica asked, breathless and amused.

“My good luck charm.” Archie smiled, and ran over to the bench, leaving Veronica giddy.

Cheering for the soccer game wasn’t as bad as Veronica was expecting. She loved watching Archie play, and she wasn’t ever afraid of him getting injured - at least, not in the ways that football could injure a high school junior. Veronica had even stolen glances at Betty and Jughead while the Vixens were cheering, and Jughead had the most ridiculous smile on his face. She and Betty had laughed at all of Jughead’s snarky remarks, covered their faces when it looked like the other team was about to score, and led a few cheers.

“Not bad, B and V,” Cheryl complimented when the game was over.

“Thanks, Cheryl-Bombshell.” Veronica replied as she packed up her pom-poms. Archie was still talking with the coach, but she couldn’t wait to congratulate him on his first non-football win. Betty and Jughead sat on the bleachers, awe painted on Jughead’s face as he listened to Betty speak. Veronica made her way across the field to meet Archie halfway. He kissed her when they met in the middle.

“Congrats, Beckham.”

Archie laughed. “It’s only cuz you were there. Like I said, you’re my good luck charm.” He took her hand and the two walked over to Betty and Jughead. The four made their way over to Pop’s to discuss the game, and the first week of school.

As Veronica sipped her chocolate milkshake and looked at her friends, she just knew this school year was going to be the best one yet.