#i was double masked the entire time never took it off once not even to eat or drink i literally got there took a shit and then found a spot

[paradiseprincesss]

"Can't you forgive me? At least just temporarily."

this just screams perfection

one last time | jonathan crane

before anyone says anything i know this isn’t my best work bare with me i didn’t really know what the hell i was writing but i knew i wanted to write something sad

summary: jonathan runs into his ex who he still can’t move on from — if only things could have been different this time.

warnings: smut, p in v, angst, breakups mentioned, unrequited love, MDNI 18+ only!

word count: 2.5k

masterlist

pain is just a consequence of love — the question is if it’s worth all the trouble.

the warm, summer breeze blew through jonathan's slightly tousled hair as he stepped off the train into gotham city, holding his wrist out to check the time on his watch.

11:58 pm.

it was rather late, but jonathan was returning from the neighboring city where he’d spent the last few days testifying in a court trial as an expert witness. he was exhausted and all he wanted to do was go home, succumb to his sleepiness on his bed, and shut his eyes as he turned off his thoughts for the night. 

alone, again.

night after night, he slept without you beside him — he hadn’t had a good night's rest since the day you’d left him.

he didn’t blame you, though. he knew as soon as he saw you, scarecrow mask in your trembling hands, that it was over. jonathan could still remember the look on your face — you were so terrified.

he’d never hurt you; he couldn’t do it if he tried — but you couldn’t see that. he didn’t expect you to, but that didn’t make it any less painful when you told him it was over. that you were leaving him and you “couldn’t do this anymore.”

your laugh, your smile, everything about you echoed in his mind. a constant reminder that he’d been left lonely once again. 

in another world, he’d get to keep you.

he would get to come home to you again. watch your face light up with a smile as he walked through the front door, running into his arms as you peppered his face with kisses. he could still remember the smell of your perfume and the way you’d always leave a sheer layer of lip gloss on his cheeks when you kissed him. 

if only he’d done things differently.

he couldn’t bring himself to be with anyone else except you — he couldn’t even picture himself with another woman. if jonathan couldn’t have you, perhaps love was off the table entirely. maybe he’d just have to sit this one out and wait for the next life.

even if he was nonexistent in your world, you’d always be the centre of his.

the memories of you — every moment with you — would always be freshly tattooed in his mind. 

his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone’s baggage being dragged across the train platform, accompanied with a familiar little huff. 

could it be?

jonathan turned around immediately with his briefcase still in his hand, as he saw a sight that made his heart flutter. 

there you were, standing with a bag of luggage that looked awfully heavy. nobody else was around — it was just the two of you again. alone. almost as if the universe was sending a subtle sign to jonathan. 

where were you headed?

you glanced around momentarily before your eyes landed on the taller man standing adjacent to you. doing a double take, your jaw almost hit the floor as the memories of the past started to flood through your mind.

he called your name out softly, trying to decipher whether you were really standing there or if this was just a mirage — a hallucination his mind was curating to torture him, but when you called his name back out to him, he knew.

“jonathan?” you asked softly as he stepped a little closer to you, and finally, under the dim lights of the station platform, you could see him clearly. 

the two of you stared at each other in silence, neither sure of what to say at this very moment but jonathan was the first to speak again. 

“where are you headed?” 

the question echoed in the night, his voice familiar and comforting. it took everything in you not to run into his arms and break down — you regretted leaving him since the day that you did. 

“...i’m leaving gotham.” you finally replied, unable to look at his bright, blue eyes for a second longer.

“what?”

“i need to start over,” you whispered, still not looking at him, “i'm catching a flight to my hometown in the morning.” 

jonathan’s mouth went dry as looked at you, and instinctively, his hand reached over to your face as he tilted your chin up. you couldn’t go — you’d break his heart all over again if you did. 

“i haven’t stopped thinking about you.” jonathan suddenly confessed. it didn’t matter if you felt the same or not, it was like something supernatural took over him, forcing him to get the words out. 

“don’t,” you warned, and he saw the tears that started to well up in your eyes, “don’t say things like that. not after—”

“i don’t care,” he said, “you deserve to know the truth after all the lies i told you.”

“i was selfish, i shouldn’t have just left without warning—”

“you are not selfish.” he interrupted once more. “this is my fault — i should have been more careful.” 

“we both made mistakes.” you assured him, but both of you knew that wasn’t true. it fell on him, not you. his mistakes caught up with him, not yours. 

even now, you were still the most selfless person jonathan knew.

“i never deserved you.” he breathed, his chest feeling tight all of a sudden. “i don’t deserve it, but can we just…talk? i promise you can catch your train in the morning, just…one last time, please—”

“jonathan.” you warned.

“i know i sound crazy,” he sighed, “but one last time, i need to be the one who takes you home.” 

“it’s midnight and i have a flight to catch in less than six hours.” 

“then catch your flight in the morning, please — i promise after that, i'll let you go.” he said, voice trembling as you tried to fight back tears from the way he was pleading with you. “you’re my everything.” 

you tried to rationalize with your head, but your heart was taking the reins right now — how could you say no? 

you couldn’t if you tried — and that’s how you ended up tangled in his arms as he held you closely. his lips were pressed against yours like they used to be, as if nothing changed. 

of course, you told yourself you were only letting him take you home so that you two could “talk” things out and hopefully find some closure. however, it seemed that the only thing you were finding right now was how much you two missed each other. 

“this is a bad idea,” you murmured against his lips, “but i missed you.”

jonathan pulled back from the kiss as he looked down at you, your head resting on the pillows of his bed. his hand came up to cup your cheek, a faint smile appearing on his lips as he admired you. it was like things had never changed. 

“i missed you more than you could imagine.” jonathan admitted, feeling his chest tighten with emotion once more. “i’m sorry.”

you sighed, getting propped up on your elbows as you looked into his eyes. you couldn’t find the right words at first, but after a moment of silence you spoke softly to him. “that doesn’t change things, you know. you lied to me.” 

“can’t you forgive me?” he asked, his cerulean blue eyes pleading with you, “at least just temporarily?” 

“i don’t wanna talk,” you whispered, “...i just want to forget.” 

he wanted your temporary forgiveness, and you wanted to forget — it was bound to end in disaster, wasn’t it? it seemed neither of you cared though, because seconds later, you were locking lips once more. 

jonathan bit your bottom lip gently, making you moan softly into his mouth as your hands found their way around his neck. it was almost like time hadn’t gone by since the last time you saw him, as if you were happy together like before. 

key word — almost.

he unclasped your bra, tossing it to the side as the heat of the moment swept both of you up. you gasped, feeling his warm hands kneading your breasts, his fingers pinching your pebbled nipples gently. he took his time with you, placing soft kisses down your jaw and neck as he focused solely on your body. 

as much as you wanted a bit more foreplay, it had been a long time since you’d last saw him — and all that pent up sexual frustration had to be let out somehow. you wasted absolutely zero time helping him undress as he returned the favour for you. 

you were soaking from the moment he’d first kissed you — the damp spot on your pink panties made that pretty clear. jonathan freed his throbbing length, stroking himself gently as he looked at you with blown out pupils.

so blown out that you could barely see those brilliantly blue irises of his. 

he lined his cock up with your drooling hole, pushing in with no resistance due to how wet you were. you let out a filthy moan, and jonathan groaned as the slick walls of your cunt sucked him in. the pace he set was gentle, but he was deep inside of you as his hands gripped onto your hips. 

“missed you,” he almost whined, “missed this, fuck—”

“h-harder, please jon…” you whimpered, feeling him thrust his thick cock into you harder, faster.

“shit, how’d you get even tighter?” jonathan groaned, pounding into your pussy as your mind went blank.

so much for closure. 

but you weren’t too focused on that right now. in fact, you weren’t focused on that at all. the feeling of jonathan's cock brutally ramming into your cunt had you thoughtless for the time being. the only thing that your mind was able to conjure up was the thought of how badly you needed to feel him fill your cunt up again. 

this is just sex, you reminded yourself, no strings attached — just one last time.

the way he looked at you told a different story, though. jonathan looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered — because you were the only thing that mattered to him. you could both lie to yourselves and say that this was just a poorly thought out hookup, but one of you wasn’t ready to face the truth — that this was so much more than just two exes hooking up.

i’ll give you a hint — it was the one who was fleeing the city as a last resort in hopes of moving on. 

“i love you.” jonathan whispered, so quiet that at first, you thought you’d misheard him.

“m-mhm–!” you moaned, deliberately ignoring his words. if you said those words, there would be no going back — it would make things all too real. “fuck, i’m g-gonna– mm, c-come!”

“drench my cock, darling. i love seeing you come undone for me — fuck, you’re just so beautiful.” jonathan said, and this time — he was definitely whining. the desperation in his tone was evident, and he tried to ignore the way his heart was pleading with you to say those three little words back. 

as your cunt clenched around his cock, you saw stars. your release washed over you like a tidal wave, hitting you all at once and jonathan's eyes widened at the sight — you were breathtaking. he let out a choked moan, unable to get the words out as he suddenly felt his own release catch up to him. 

he gripped your hips painfully tight, slamming his cock into your tight hole deeply as his tip brushed up against your cervix, and his warm cum spilled into you. his cock pulsed as he filled your cunt up with his seed, and you were still a pathetic, moaning mess as he did so. 

after both of you had calmed down for a moment, the post-sex silence was painfully bittersweet. it was almost like for a second, both of you had forgotten that this was a mistake. but alas, reality catches up with us all much too quickly for our liking, doesn’t it?

“join me in the shower?” jonathan asked after a moment of stillness, pulling out of you as his cum leaked from your spent hole. 

“actually, i think i’ll just wait in bed for you — i need to sleep before my flight.” you said, your voice breaking as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

you felt incredibly guilty for what you were about to do — history always repeats itself, as they say. 

thankfully, jonathan was too busy looking down in order to notice your watery eyes, and you’d turned away to really make sure he wouldn’t see a thing. “okay,” he said softly, “i'll be in the shower if you need me. i’ll drive you to the airport in the morning.” 

“i'll be waiting in bed.” you replied sweetly, watching him disappear into the bathroom as he shut the door. you heard the water in the shower start to run, and with a sigh, you grab one of the many papers littered on his bedside table along with a pen. 

quickly scribbling down a messy note, you placed it on the bed for jonathan to see. 

maybe in another life, you wouldn’t leave him to clean up his own mess — and maybe in another life, he wouldn’t have lied to you about who he was. 

if you could have it your way, there would be no such thing as goodbye; but you didn’t make the rules. 

grabbing your packed luggage, you exit through the door of his apartment quietly, taking the elevator downstairs before hailing a cab. you almost regretted it as soon as you’d left him again, but it wasn’t enough to make you turn around and go running back into his arms. 

you knew better than to keep him in your orbit — you were two worlds away. 

as jonathan finally stepped out of his shower and back into his bedroom, his heart dropped as the realization kicked in. he saw it coming, yes — but he just thought that if he pretended not to, then maybe you wouldn’t go.

he looked at the burlap scarecrow mask that was laid out on his dresser — he couldn’t change who he was, and he couldn’t force you to accept that even if he wanted to. noticing the letter on his bed, he picked it up, warm tears falling down his cheeks as he read it. 

dearest jonathan, 

i’m saying sorry for the sake of us. i couldn’t stay, but i think we both knew that. 

if i cross your mind, just know i'm yours. i hope we can have our happily ever after in the next life, but for now, i will love you from a distance. 

you are and always will be my everything, j.

yours truly, 

your darling.

ps. i love you too. 

jonathan held the letter in his trembling hands as he looked out the window of his apartment — he almost had you this time. so close to being in love, but the past came back to haunt him. what could have been if you hadn’t slipped through the cracks of his hands once again?

if only you two got the chance you deserved — you almost loved him enough to stay.

but almost is never enough.

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues

[anantaru]

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — you had once sworn to always love the 11th harbinger childe, no matter what circumstances you'd face together, to love and cherish him for all eternity, even the hidden side he couldn‘t hide any longer from you.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 2.4k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, foul legacy! childe, vampire! teeth, tw blood, blood sucking, monster[fu]cking, tw huge size difference, very messy, loads of filth, slight feral childe, cw two cocks, anal, double penetration

a beclouded, overcasting darkness torrents and deluges over your cold, moonless room. it's silent, as if trapped in a frozen lake and you exhale heavily through your nose and feel how your breathing stood motionless, cornered in a room.

"it's terrifying, isn't it?" you hear a whisper, "to see me like that, knowing love won't be enough to look past my situation." and a searing, razor edged bolt plunges over your body, which was only covered in a flimsy shirt, your thighs— quivering, without exaggeration petrified yet not out of fear as one might think.

turns out, what made it so terrifying were his next, chosen words;

"yet i love you."

and they felt as if crafted by the universe itself, meticulously chiseled in an edge of relief when childe, the eleventh harbinger, took a step towards you, until looming over the bed, whispering.

"and you love me, don't you?"

by the nature of what he kept expressing to you, the words he spelled out certainly held graven significance, you remember when childe admitted that he fell in love with you the very first time, remember when he said it out loud, kind, innocent, without any twisted torment.

but ajax wasn‘t himself now, or was he? is this who he really was all along? did you fall in love with .. him?

he was someone else, point blank, something. your find yourself being snapped back into reality when a warm tear crosses your cheeks, framing your face and you ask yourself, why am i crying?

even then, you secretly know the answer, you cannot keep yourself off him, you are desperately in love, you crave him, long for his silhouette and kisses, worship the eleventh harbinger entirely and if need be, undoubtedly you'd look past his true self.

granted, the situation was new, fresh and afloat, ajax never revealed you his true, foul legacy form or rather, what it did to him in the long run, a slow, agonizing death, melting away his lifespan— or how it made him perceive himself and what he became of it— bloodthirsty, uncontrollably raging with hunger, in dire pain.

childe lets himself fuse into the bedsheets at last, crawling into your bed, it's the middle of the night, a spine-chilling hour where he confessed the truth of his nature. notwithstanding the fact that he wanted to see how far he could go now, or if he should leave you out of his life completely.

when he hovered over your body, new courage materialized from the tip of his tongue, "do you want me to leave?" he takes off the giant mask, his skin right underneath growing dimmer, resembling a violet pigmentation, revealing his electro infused eyes, pointy ears, his sharp nails, delicately raising your vibrations with soft touches on your thighs.

you might regret this later on but you do not seem scared of him, somehow turning him speechless by your reaction, "no, please stay."

"you mean it?" he sighs, if that was true, then him being a monster was possibly the lesser of the two dangers. "i do." it's quite important to note that childe could barely fit in your bed, nor could he barely fit in between your legs for that matter, and you notice how energy imbued he actually was, his body twitching as if nervous, violet particles pervading off his skin, making you tremble.

"shh," childe looms his thumb over your bottom lip, "how cute." shaking his head and gazing deeply into your eyes, your face burns and without missing a beat, he slides his other hand under your knee, easing to your thigh and spreading you apart, so he could somewhat fit between your legs more sufficiently.

you were about to open your mouth to say something, but then felt childe's large thumb slip into your mouth, rendering over your warm, wet tongue. he presses down on the wet muscle and groans sharply into his chest when you moan, sealing your lips over the digit when he began to push it in and out of you.

your eyes close, and a smaller bump nestles itself between your legs, you feel it, knowing what it was. childe was hard, words cannot hold up to the warmth flushing your entire body when you flutter your lashes down south, a big tent nudging into your core.

a shiver goes up your spine when he pulls his wet finger out of your mouth, the string of saliva attached and breaking in two, hitting your chin. "let me get rid of this." he points out, accentuating the pain in his pants before he pulls them down, not entirely but so they'd rest right under his now, bare erection, his bulky thighs quilling over the leather material of his pants.

your mouth parts at the obscene sight, a bead of sweat trailing its way between your shoulder blades; not only one, but two fully erected cocks in display for your eyes and childe slowly traces the outline with the pad of a finger, hissing out, you can practically hear him grinning over you, almost discern the lewd dreams that probably played across his mind right this second while he mounted over you, casting a shadow down your figure with such ease.

"we'll start slow." his voice rumbles, "as usual." a smirk swaying from left to right, you feel your limbs sink into the mattress, your head hazy, but when he starts to pleasure himself in front of you, you bite your lip as you watch him, indulge in it, sneaky hand traveling down to take some tension off your stimulated pussy that was dizzily fluttering around nothing.

you whine out when you insert your middle finger into your hole and childe wipes away the bundled up saliva off your lips, taking a hold on your chin and lowering his body, "turn around for me." he whispers, looking down to watch you finger yourself ready for him— as if that would actually make the stretch somewhat easier to go by.

but you do as he commands, long since forgotten about the doubts buried in your mind, flipping yourself over and perking your butt up, so he could have the best view on your holes. he never used your different hole before, but childe wasn't unpracticed in taking the necessary steps in order for it to feel good. to try and test the limits of your body, he tapped your hole with his knuckle, pushing it past the tightness as it went in freely enough, and as he felt you loosen around it, he pushed it in and out, only distantly.

after all, he couldn't finger you properly, his nails were sharp and he'd rather dig them into your hips while he fucks roughly into you.

so before anything, he draws back and childe reached over to your nightstand and grabbed into the small drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube, whatever the case, he knew he was big, far greater than in his usual, human form and didn't want to hurt you while looking like this.

nonetheless, he could barely wait, he can feel his nervous breathing puffing against his sweaty chest while he opened the bottle, gushing a generous amount of the translucent liquid on his palm.

you bite your lip back and hide your face in the pillow when you hear it as you wiggle your toes, pretty much the only part of you that's movable when he forces you to lay still, all his weight on the bed, placed on your hips with nowhere else to go, fuck, you're so wet already it made your blood boil in your veins, you underestimated this thing. it's not even inside of you yet but you want to feel it already. 

ajax spreads the moisture on his upper cock, wrapping his tip and girth with it, "there we go." as he plants one of his large palms against your lower back while the other guided his red, swollen erection towards your holes. his touch, addictive, and faithlessly wet, you felt as if your body was submerged underwater and shoved into itself, but when childe moves his erections against your holes, you whine as to signalize your desperation for him.

slow, gradual enough and bolstered with a deep tempo, your wet, aching pussy stretches around childe's cock, while his other member pokes at your other hole, for one, only leaving the tip in and out, watching your reactions closely. but with more lube, it ultimately had began to work, graciously shaping and forming itself into every fold and crevice of his girth.

before moving, he keeps himself settled, his cocks buzzing against your frayed nerves.

but your walls clung on him ever tight, like a set of skin-forming clothing, hand tailored and fitting like a vice. enveloped by your skin, childe could notice your pulse down there and you cry out his name when he thrusts into you at the same time, wrapping his giant hands around your entire hip area to lift you off the mattress, so he could use you as a cock sleeve, his own, sweet and pretty and wet fucking cock sleeve.

his cocks hit in and out of your holes at the same time, they're warm and splitting you apart, as if having a heart beat on their own which continuously shuddered and rippled around your entire figure, your skin burning from inside out, holes leaking with both childe's pre cum and your gooey slick. but the man sighs, a nagging pain finally lifted off his shoulders as he leans against your back with his entire weight, caging you in between the mattress and his strong, broad chest.

you expand your lungs, drawing in quick, hefty breaths as you moan into the smudged pillow under you, thoroughly messed up with tears of euphoria and your saliva which couldn't stop dribbling down your chin. cross eyed, while fucking yourself back into him, his rhythm was never more than slow and deep, it's perfect and whenever both cocks contracted into you entirely, you felt them press overtly against the gateways of your pleasure spots.

your hold on him was tight, both holes used and prickling with a fire like sensation, sensual drags of his cocks piercing you into oblivion, inflicting bliss on you which you never experienced to that extent. he's ruthless, head thrown back and smacking his hips into you, pheromones and filth invading the humane air of the warm room. it's so filthy, you are, or that's what crossed your mind, but fuck it feels good, more than a little, it's like crossing out every small detail on your to do list, tackling all the small places and filling them to the brim.

swiftly, you move your hand to reach back behind him, locking your digits into his soft locks when childe began to nibble and suck on your neck. at the sensation of his rough, skilled laps of his tongue, you hiss when his sharp, pointy teeth dig into the delicate skin, hard enough to draw out the blood he so desperately craved to taste. in a sense, it's as if it broadened his lifespan, vitalized his endurance and replenished his stamina, "aah—" you cry out into the pillow, almost ashamed by how good it feels, mustering enough strength to grab a fistful of his hair to drag him into you, closer, more sufficient, his hips still working wonders on both entrances.

you're soiling him entirely and you can feel how your gummy slick and his warm, thick cum ooze down your thighs as childe moans into your neck, repeatedly, sucking the warm blood out of you, snapping his cocks in and out and acting feral, your spine arched up, ass perked and lifted so he could pound perfectly and fuck into you.

voiceless cries with a dry throat, inarticulate whispers of his name, your mouth opens and closes soundlessly. you're gone, too gone, hypnotized by the pleasure he was bestowing on you.

this next thrust was especially lucky in your eyes, and you cough up a broken moan when he hits your spots just right. you're rolling your hips back against the intrusion, desperate, full of need, face fallen and a mess. it was hot and wet, you could sense the boiling coil in your stomach, how it wouldn't be long until you'd release around him, and so did childe, feel himself become undone soon.

"just a bit more.." he's breathless, the smacking sounds of your ass against his hips fueling his desire to make you cum together, to have you drenched and filled up with his seed, both holes stuffed full and ready to go for another round, that's a new dream he had been playing in his head on auto repeat right now.

"fuck—" you scream, "fuck, baby! so close—!" and suddenly taste the intrusion in your belly, it's so warm and heavy, spilling, prodding, consuming, mind numbing you, knowing full on well nothing more could ever satisfy you as good as he did. the thick spurts of cum gush into your stomach so heavily it almost hurts, there was so much of it you feared to explode.

yet you come undone the same time as he did, violently arching your back as he wraps his arms around your sticky chest, the brush over your stiff nipples making you whine and tremble. he lifts you off the bed to harshly fuck the last bit into you, he wants you to have it all, until his balls were properly emptied out and dried up, but your holes adequately jammed and crowded.

your used, vibration numbed nerves and muscles come back to life and you collapse back on the bed, you taste salt and sweat on your lips before turning around to face your lover sitting back, barely out of breath, unlike you.

ajax pleasingly hums to himself, "you're mine." pulling himself against you, "you're mine forever." before sealing your bodies as you blink up to him with large, glowing eyes. you try not to notice his smile too much, yet all his reactions weren't a surprise.

in the end, he had won you over, he thinks to himself, kneading the soreness off your body, splashing his large thigh between your wobbly legs, deciding to rub it against your core to catch a reactions, making you realize that he wasn't done yet. 

beyond further questioning, it was the middle of the night.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[obviouslacking]

this is wholly embarrassing but i watched h-e double hockey sticks (1999) for the first time last night and, in the midst of my jeric brainrot, it made my mind go ❣️

so i wrote a teensy, terrible ficlet. i gave it a saccharine little title. griffelkin/dave, because of course it is. what are niche fandoms for if not to practice writing bad fanfiction? anyway. this goes out to the folks on jeric twt

the sign on your heart (it's still reserved for me)

aka when hell freezes over

*******************

It was the greatest night of Dave Heinrich’s life. 

He’d just won the Stanley Cup; the girl of his dreams was on his arm and he was enjoying his hard-won victory. Only… something was wrong. Through the lights, and the confetti, and the cheers, he watched as Griffelkin melted away into the crowd. Like he was never there. Like he’d never be seen again — by Dave, anyway. The triumphant grin slipped off his lips. It was cold, suddenly, out there on the ice, in a way the exertion had masked before. Everything he’d just accomplished began to feel… hollow. The only reason he’d managed to achieve anything was because of Griffelkin, chaotic and ridiculous though he was. Because, for some godforsaken reason… he’d believed in Dave.

He’d made him a better person.

What he’d had with Anne had been good. It felt like they had grown up in the rink together. But they’d been chasing after a dead-and-buried version of the past for too long now, blindly gripping to nostalgia instead of moving forward with their lives. It was now clear to him: it was time to set them both free. 

He turned to her with regret, “I’m so sorry, I have to go.” 

She didn’t understand, “Dave, wait—”

He couldn’t. He had to get out of there or else he’d lose his chance entirely. He knew how it looked: Dave Heinrich, the golden boy, leaving the Stanley Cup celebrations — the moment he’d worked towards all his life, the pinnacle of his rising star. He didn’t care. He was proud of his team, proud of himself, but… none of it would feel right until he saw Griffelkin again. Until they got to be proud of what they’d done together. The two of them, their own team.

He had to get him back.

It took hours. He drew pentagrams in chalk on his nicely laminated flooring. He lit candles. He tried ominous chanting, tried reciting an exorcism he thought he saw in a movie once, tried everything he could think of to summon Griffelkin back to him — short of screaming at the sky in despair.

Nothing worked. He was forced to sit himself down by the absolute mess he’d made with a sigh, body still aching from the torture it had endured that day. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Griffelkin had held onto him as he lifted him up onto the sickbay bed. Or the sight of him in his Angels uniform; wearing Dave’s number, Dave’s name. He’d been chasing after the Cup for so long, treading water with his girlfriend for so long… he’d forgotten what that felt like. To have a fire inside you, one that burned for a person. 

If Griffelkin technically counted as a person, anyways. Dave was still a little.. fuzzy on the details. If he thought about it too much, he was sure he’d lose his mind (even more so than he likely already had. Maybe he’d just taken a really hard check out on the ice one day, and this was all some kind of fever dream—)

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jesus Christ!!! Dave had sprung up and away from the sudden intruder in terror before he could even realise it was the intended object of his summonings. Here, at last. Hours after Dave had wanted him. The creature lived to spite him.

Even so, just seeing his face again… Dave needed to say his piece. “I had to talk to you. It wasn’t right, how you just… left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

Griffelkin was uncharacteristically muted, like all the flair had been drained out of him. “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

*******************

Griffelkin was lost. 

He’d come to Earth to be wicked. To do bad deeds. To steal the ever-ripe soul of one Dave Heinrich. He’d never anticipated… everything that had happened after that. Becoming invested in the lives of actual, honest-to-God people, turning against the will of Beelzebub and everything he’d trained for to show compassion… it was entirely out of left field. Or left.. rink… (curse his sudden investment in that stupid game. It was just unnatural).

He’d never anticipated the way something about Dave was just… different. When Griffelkin was with him… he’d never felt like that before. It itched throughout his whole body; like that awful diner food, or the smell of the trees as they polluted his insides. Something horrible like… sunshine, or flowers, or the way Dave would smile breathlessly after he won a game—

Oh, hell.

Griffelkin had done it. He’d gone and fallen in — he took a moment to tamp down the nausea — love with him. The human. His former mark. What on Earth was he going to do? 

Quite literally. He definitely didn’t think Hell would take him back any time soon, and the folks upstairs… well he didn’t know WHAT was going on with them. Gabby was their earthly agent?? She made him look positively angelic by comparison — and that was saying something.

So here he was: stuck topside, having horrendously squishy feelings for someone who would never like him back. Why would he? He’d got the Stanley Cup, got the girl… he didn’t need Griffelkin anymore. Dave’s soul may have been bound to him once, but they’d essentially ripped up everything that had tied them together. Their deal was done. 

If only he’d known sooner… he’d never have got those two back together!! If he'd ensured they'd remained separated, he could have done his buddy Lewis a solid — he wouldn't have had to deal with Dave's impressive ego anymore!! Meanwhile, Griff could have swooped in at just the right moment, offering his soulmate both the shining Cup and his blackened heart on a brimstone platter……

But it was too late. They were all finally happy, at peace; everyone’s souls intact. Hurray! Griffelkin had no choice but to just fade into the background. Leave Dave be. He’d already interfered with his life enough. 

Or so he’d thought.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was currently standing in Dave’s living room. He’d just felt drawn to the place, something that had never happened before. At least, not without some kind of demonic intervention. Somehow, he didn’t think that was at work here, despite the look of Dave’s once-glossy pad. The space seemed to be covered in… satanic paraphernalia of some kind. 

Aw, he was almost touched. Mildly offended by the amateur job (WHO taught him how to draw a pentagram? And scented candles, really?? Was that glitter over there—) but… touched, nonetheless.

Dave was sitting on the floor, hunched over, still in his jersey from the game. He looked miserable. 

Griffelkin felt that increasingly familiar tremble in his chest. He took it out back and shot it dead. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dave jumped out of his skin at the words. He was so cute when he was being existentially horrified by the forces of Griffelkin’s dark magic. Damn him. He’d failed already (typical, typical, Griff, can’t do anything right). He had to stop thinking of Dave like that, not when he wanted nothing—

“I had to talk to you….. it wasn’t right, how you just…. left. Why did you just leave?”

He… wanted Griff? 

That couldn’t be right. No matter how much it pained him, all he could think to do was be honest: “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

Dave seemed distraught, hearing this. Griffelkin had never seen him like that before. He didn’t know what to make of it. He looked… agitated, but not like he was when his hockey career was on the line; sad, but not in the same way as he’d mooned over… whatever her name was. 

He admitted, “I thought that was what I wanted. But then… you weren’t there.” 

No one had ever… cared about Griffelkin before. Was this how the Grinch had felt when his heart grew three sizes bigger? Griff might as well just sprout wings and take up harp-playing, at the notion. He’d never felt so blessed, 

“Aw, Dave, buddy, you missed me? It was my sick moves out on the ice wasn’t it? You just had to come crawling back—”

Dave kissed him. 

*******************

Dave couldn’t listen to that yapping for one more second.

So, he grabbed Griffelkin by the stupid clothes he was still wearing and kissed his stupid evil mouth. It took only a second before he melted into it like he’d been feeling the exact same feverish longing as Dave, silenced by—

Oh, he’d finally shut him up. He should have thought of doing that sooner. 

It felt like a long time coming. It felt like no time at all.

Slowly, he released Griffelkin from his desperate grasp. It took the demon several seconds to blink his eyes open, staring back at him in awe. Well, Dave would feel just terrible if he’d broken him somehow. (Though maybe it would serve him right, just a little bit.) 

Satisfied, he leant back. 

“You gonna stay now? You don’t have anywhere else to be, right? Hell, or the Underworld, or wherever it is you’re from?” He hoped he never found out all the gory details. He suspected he was going to.

Griffelkin was still stunned. His hands twitched where they stayed clinging to the back of Dave’s jersey.  “No, I… I think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t know if you know this, but I just won the Stanley Cup.” He smiled at the thought… what an insane life he was leading. Dave Heinrich: youngest player to ever earn that mythic trophy; currently falling headfirst, circle-after-circle, in love with Hell’s finest.

Griffelkin smiled back at him, a little goofy, joy glimmering in his eyes, “Oh, you did?”

“Uh huh. And I could use some help figuring out where I’m gonna go from here.”

“Right, well…” Griffelkin swallowed. “I might just know a certain devil who’s going through kind of a similar situation right now. He might just take you up on that offer.”

It felt like the proper conclusion to their little adventure: both balancing on the precipice of a new journey. One Dave wanted them to tackle together — no matter how many ridiculous escapades came about as a result. They were just better as a pair. He knew they’d make it work somehow. If there was one thing he’d learned from all this (besides the whole being a selfless team player thing) it was that he could use a little more chaos in his life.

He pretended to mull Griff’s response over. “No contracts required?”

“Actually now that you mention it, I think I might have forgotten a sub-clause back there—” 

Dave kissed him again. Man, that really did work miracles. It was about time he evened the scales a bit, in terms of which one of them was holding power over the other. He had to be careful or it just might go to his head.

They were still standing in the midst of Dave’s embarrassingly terrible pentagram. Luckily, the candles had all been long-extinguished by the time their lips had met, or they would have been facing a serious fire-safety hazard right about then. Dave had come too far to have his life cut short in that blissful moment.

His arms wrapped around the neck of his tormentor, who bound their bodies together with his own embrace in turn. 

At least they wouldn’t be able to sue him for breach of contract: Dave Heinrich’s soul belonged to the demon Griffelkin after all. 

Along with his heart, and mind, and body, and whatever else he decided he wanted along the way. Dave wasn’t fussed in the slightest.

Hell began to thaw.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Pose For Me

Task Force 141, Alejandro, Rudy & Reader John "Soap" MacTavish X Reader

Price and Ghost had seen the way the two of you watched one another, chuckling to themselves at how smitten Soap was after only a few hours. They all knew better than to pursue anything when on duty, never ended well anyway.

a/n:thank you so much for all the love on my Price fic! this one is an idea I bounced off @gaylemonshark and honestly you can all thank them for this warnings:none except for Soap being a major simp

It had been Laswell’s idea, a way to help raise money for charity and what better way than a “sexy” calendar. Price had damn near doubled over with laughter, they wanted him and his team to pose for a calendar? And not think it was an outrageous idea at all? Doubtful. There was no way in hell any of them would be willing to do something so ridiculous.

“I’ll do it, sounds fun.” Soap was the first one to agree, damn near vibrating in his seat with excitement.

It didn’t take long for Gaz to agree, followed by Alejandro, Rudy, and then Ghost. Once Price knew that Ghost was willing to pose, eck, for the photos he couldn’t disagree. How hard could it be? They’d be told what to do the entire time anyway, surely it would go smoothly and then they could relax for a little while longer. That included getting on a plane and flying back to the US, why couldn’t they go somewhere closer? Price wasn’t going to argue, it meant a few days off from working and right now he wanted to sleep.

“Don’t flirt with the photographer please.” Laswell had her eyes locked on Soap, who merely raised his hands with an innocent shrug.

“That’s exactly what he’s going to do.” Gaz snickered when Soap glared over at him, this was going to be a long day.

“Boys, please.” Laswell pinched the bridge of her nose, waiting for you to arrive.

Price had been scoping out the area like normal, even if the average person would think he was strange for doing so. It was a habit he’d been unable to break for years, and this day was going to be no different. The double doors opening across the room caught everyone’s attention, Laswell was thankful she’d stripped them of their guns at that point.

“Hey! Sorry I’m so late, I had to run back home for my bag.” You dropped your stuff onto the closest table and began to pull everything out.

The lights had already been set up, as well as the backdrops to help speed things along so you wouldn’t have to waste anymore time. Luckily the first round of photos would be more safe, they’d be wearing their fatigues and posing on a large gothic chair. The chair design hadn’t been your idea at first, but after some convincing you decided to use it. As you were laying out your equipment all eyes were suddenly on Soap who was nearly drooling over you.

“Down boy.” Ghost smirked under his mask as Soap righted himself, clearing his throat as his cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

Once you had gotten the camera set up for the still shots you took a step back to look at your models for the day. You quickly introduced yourself to help ease any tension in the room, though you were sure they’d gotten a full background check beforehand.

“Alright, we’re going to start with some simple poses and then move on to some other fun ones.” You were excited, given the fact that all the men in front of you were insanely attractive.

“I’ll go first, show these boys how it’s done.” Alejandro was confident, striding over to the chair and relaxing effortlessly.

You giggled to yourself and started to snap a few photos, giving him different positions and poses until you were satisfied with what you had. Gaz was all too happy to rush over next, introducing himself in front of the camera before posing. He was clearly a natural at modeling, something you were a little surprised by. Then again most people were more comfortable when they were fully clothed. Gaz gave a cheeky salute when you sent him away, winking playfully.

“Next victim please.” You straightened your back for a few seconds, groaning as your spine cracked loudly.

Rudy was a little more nervous, poses stiff and uncomfortable until you helped ease him into something that looked more natural. It was normal for people to not like being photographed, but he wanted to help people and that warmed your heart. Towards the end of his shoot he seemed to truly open up, a bright smile on his face lighting up the room.

“Thank you!” Rudy walked off to meet with the wardrobe, unaware of what they had in store.

“Alrighty, whose next.” You were beyond grateful the men weren’t giving you a hard time, most male models were worse than the women.

The man that walked over sent a chill down your spine, the mask covering his face left everything to the imagination. His eyes were sharp, an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Wow, you’re really tall.” You could faintly make out his brow rising beneath the mask, as if he was confused by your statement.

“Comes with the territory.” He plopped down into the chair, the legs groaning beneath his weight.

You simply shrugged and began taking photos, keeping your gaze on the giant of a man in front of you. He was even more of a natural than Alejandro which kind of shocked you. Having a group be so photogenic was nice for a change. Then again, how were they going to react to the next phase?

“Thank you! You’re all set.” You couldn’t keep the smile off your face, mainly to hide the nerves that were bubbling up inside.

He didn’t say a word as he walked off, following one of the assistants to “prepare” for the next set of photos. Your eyes locked on the next man, he looked proud of himself as he walked over to you.

“Pleasure to meet you, thank you for making my men feel more comfortable.” Ahh, so this was clearly their Captain.

“Just doing my job sir.” You nodded at him, waiting until he was ready before snapping the first photo.

He, like Rudy, was a little stiff at first before finding a rhythm that seemed to work best. He seemed more than happy to keep taking photos, cracking a few jokes to make you laugh. It worked surprisingly well, keeping you more calm until you felt you had enough pictures. You shooed him off, not wanting to waste any time since you only had the studio for that day. And then there was only one person left, and damn was he a cutie.

“Aye there, ‘m Soap.” He was smiling like a fool, nearly falling onto his face as he tripped over his own feet.

“Nice to meet you.” You couldn’t help but giggle when he blushed, hiding his face for a brief second before composing himself.

So far he was your favorite to photograph, from the way he smiled to the way he seemed to exude sunshine. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, he was such a charmer and he’d barely even spoken a sentence to you. Damnit, why did you have to get the cute ones that were never single?

“Thank you Soap, you’re free to go for now.” You set the camera down, taking out the memory card to slide into your laptop.

He was hesitant to leave, watching you with close eyes before heading off to where the rest of his team had gone. Alejandro had been more than ready to strip off his shirt and get oiled up, going out of his way to help Rudy build up the confidence. The men knew they had the physical attributes most men, and women, fawned over. But modeling it felt a little more personal in his eyes. Ghost had begrudgingly taken off his coat and shirt, taking the bottle from the assistant and lathering his skin quickly. Price raised a brow at him but kept all thoughts to himself to spare the other man’s feelings.

“Hey, are you guys almost ready to go?” You popped your head inside, brain short circuiting as you took everyone in.

They’d told you what the day entailed, but seeing it in person was a completely different story. You’d figured some of them would have scars, being in the military came with baggage you’d never begin to understand, but seeing six men oiled up and looking like snacks? You were amazed you were even still standing.

“Lass, could you uhh, help me please?” Soap was holding out the bottle to you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Umm..yeah, of course.” You took the bottle without giving yourself time to second guess your actions, pouring a generous amount into your palm.

He turned so his back was to you, shoulders relaxed as he let you go to town. His skin was softer than you’d been expecting, the muscles beneath were damn near rock hard. How the hell were you supposed to focus after this?!

“You’re all set.” You dropped your hands to your sides, voice breathy as your head tilted back to look up at him.

“Thank you lass.” His smile was enough to melt the polar ice caps, jesus you were done for.

“Mmm, if you boys don’t mind I’m going to clean my hands and get ready for the next shoot.” In reality you needed to not only clean your hands, but clear your mind so you could focus.

Price and Ghost had seen the way the two of you watched one another, chuckling to themselves at how smitten Soap was after only a few hours. They all knew better than to pursue anything when on duty, never ended well anyway.

“Let’s go boys.” Price led them back out to the area, noticing the small subtle changes.

The lighting had been dimmed, giving everyone a more somber vibe. The order had been the same as before, each one posing in different ways until you were satisfied. Ghost’s photos, while a little darker, had an edge that set him apart from everyone else. Soap had used his body to his advantage, flexing and stretching to highlight the best parts of himself. You’d nearly dropped the camera when he sat down in the chair, legs spread wide open.

“Look at you, soaking up all the attention.” Gaz snickered, watching the way you were nearly fumbling everything trying to stay calm.

“‘S what I do best.” Soap smirked over at the other man, giving you the perfect opportunity to capture the best photo of him.

You were thankful to send the boys off once more, letting them know there would be plenty of towels to help get rid of any excess body oil. Price had mumbled that it was going to be stuck in his chest hair for the next few weeks. You felt bad, somewhat, but there was only one more photo to take before you’d be done for the end of the day. In a way you were a little sad to be sending them away, they were some of your best models, in both looks and attitude.

“Alright boys, one more and then you can all leave and complain about the girl that made you oil up for photos.” Laswell knew they wouldn’t hold it against you, but watching them complain was sometimes fun.

You had them all line up, cracking a joke that made everyone laugh as you took the photo. It was simplistic and perfect. Most people would complain they looked terrible whenever someone took a candid shot, but this showed the true side of these men. Even Ghost, the man you were definitely afraid of, was grinning.

“Thank you guys so much for coming today, when I have the photos edited I’ll send them to you for final approval before sending them off to be printed.” You’d be spending the next few weeks at minimum looking over these photos. Everything had to be perfect.

Soap wrung his hands together, slightly nervous as he watched you begin to pack up your gear carefully. Should he make a fool of himself and ask you out to dinner since they’d be around for a few more days, or should he cut his losses and let you go. Ghost subtly, if you could call it that, shoved him towards where you were standing. He turned to glare at the other man, brushing nonexistent lint off his shirt before walking over to your side.

“Hey, umm, I was wonderin’ if you’d be interested in goin’ to dinner with me?” Soap was nervous, something he couldn’t shake no matter what.

“Oh! I umm…Yes, that would be lovely.” You were shocked to say the least, not expecting this stunning man to ask you on a date.

“Great! Here.” He pulled his phone out from his pocket and shocked it into your hands.

You smiled and typed your number into his phone, sending yourself a text so that you’d have his number as well. Normally you were very against going out with any models you worked with, especially someone in the military. You mainly hoped this wouldn’t blow up in your face if it happened to go badly. It’s only one date, how bad could it be?

______

“You nervous?” Price knew that Soap was damn near shitting himself, even if the other man wouldn’t admit it.

“Not at all, everything’s fine.” He’d changed outfits twice, and lost his phone four times.

It was funny to watch the normally composed Soap practically run himself ragged over a woman he just met, but it also worried Price. What if she ended up breaking his heart before the end of the night? He’d be a mess the rest of the time they were on leave, and nothing was worse than an upset Soap.

“You might wanna head out, time’s a tickin’.” Ghost had been the one to mention the time, sending Soap into a frenzy as he ran out of the hotel.

You’d been dropped off by the uber less than two minutes before he was walking over to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Hey, hope you weren’t waiting long.” Johnny was more nervous now, heart rate kicking up at the sight of you.

“Not at all, just got here actually.” You brushed down the skirt of your dress.

“Shall we?” He held out his arm, laying his hand overtop of yours when you wrapped your fingers around his bicep.

The walk to the restaurant was short, and you were thankful you’d worn your more comfortable heels. Even with the slight boost in your height he still towered over you, and that was definitely doing something for you.

“What is your name exactly? Unless you’d like me to call you by your codename for the rest of the night.” The words sounded much more insidious than you’d intended, but the night was still young.

“Johnny.” He sounded much more confident saying his name than he had the entire day, it was cute.

The restaurant was quiet when you arrived, the hostess leading you two to a secluded table towards the back. He pulled out your chair, making sure he had a clear view of everyone else in case something were to happen. Even when he wanted to shut off his brain and enjoy the moment it wasn’t easy. Nothing would happen, he was sure of it.

“Thank you, for coming out with me tonight.” Though he felt embarrassed to admit it, he hadn’t been on a date in quite a long time.

“Thank you for asking me out to dinner.” You smiled at him, resting your hand over top of his on the table.

Johnny would never admit how badly his palms were sweating, the way his heart kicked into high gear. Now he was no blushing virgin, but there was something different about you that he was drawn to.

The night was what both of you would consider perfect, from the food, to the conversation that never seemed to dull down. You were both laughing at corny jokes, and even sharing food as if you’d done this a thousand times before. You didn’t want the night to end, ready to throw caution to the wind and invite him back up to your apartment. Unfortunately you knew that would be a bad idea, realistically he’d go back to base and you wouldn’t see him for a while.

Johnny refused to let you pay, let alone put down a tip, for the bill, claiming that he’d been the one to ask you out. It was a courteous gesture and you could feel your resolve slipping more and more with each second. He waited outside the restaurant with you until your uber arrived, wanting to make sure you at least got home safe.

“Don’t be a stranger, though I can’t promise I’ll be able to reply often.” He didn’t want to lie and say he’d be talking to you all the time, it wasn’t true.

“As long as you stay safe, that’s all that matters to me.” You turned to face him as the car pulled up beside you.

He cupped your cheek gently, pressing his lips against yours softly. You wound your arms around his neck, pulling him flush to your body as your lips moved in tandem with his. He wanted to keep kissing you forever, never letting the moment end. However he knew you had to get home and work on editing the new photos.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” Johnny was the first to pull away, leaving you breathless.

You could only nod, opening the car door and slipping into the backseat. Johnny watched you leave, a sad smile on his face. He wasn’t sure when he’d get to see you again, but he’ll be damned if it wasn’t soon enough.

_______

They were out on a mission when the photos were sent to Laswell for approval, she promised not to look at any of them until everyone was safe. It was burning a hole in her pocket, both excited and nervous to see what had been chosen as the “perfect” shot. There were minor injuries, which was to be expected, but overall everyone came back alive.

“Hello boys, I have some presents for you.” She laid the manilla folder on the table in front of them.

Everyone reached for the folder at once, stopping when Laswell pressed her hand overtop of it to prevent anyone from grabbing it.

“Now, you better behave and not make any remarks about your photos. Got it?” Laswell wouldn’t deal with the team pissing each other off.

“Yes ma’am.” They spoke in unison, which to anyone else would’ve been unnerving.

Laswell was used to it.

She took out both photos for everyone, handing them face down so they could look at them and inspect without someone else being nosy. Ghost was a little nervous to see what he looked like, he hadn’t been paid a lot of compliments in his day. The photo in front of him, while he was still fully clothed, was, in lack of a better term, gorgeous. The light reflected off his mask so effortlessly, giving the illusion of a lightness he didn’t think he had. The second photo, which he’d come to call his “skin” photo, had him taking a second glance. Was that truly him? The lighting was subtle enough to hide the scars that riddled his body, skin glistening.

“Well shit, I’d say she picked some damn good photos.” Laswell was impressed to say the least, the photos would definitely sell a lot of calendars.

“Gotta admit, she caught our good sides.” Gaz was proud of how he looked, he was tempted to ask if he could use it on his dating profile.

“Now I want to make sure you’re all comfortable with these before I give anyone the go ahead.” Laswell wasn’t going to do anything without their permission.

Everyone was in agreement that the photos could be used, there was no harm in what they were doing and everyone’s identities were protected. Soap was still staring down at his, a small smile on his face.

“What’s got you so giddy?” Ghost leaned over to get a better look, eyes widening when he realized that you’d snuck in something a little more special for him.

“Just a little gift.” Soap pulled the photos closer to himself, keeping them out of everyone’s view.

“I’ll give her a call tonight and give her the go ahead. Thank you boys.” Laswell nodded before leaving, giving the boys enough time to speak up if they weren’t comfortable.

The room fell silent, save for the sound of photos shuffling and breathing as the men took in the photos more.

“Safe to say she did amazing, don’t think I’ve looked this good in a while.” Price knew he was attractive, but seeing this side of him felt even better.

“I agree, but I have to make a phone call, I’ll be back later.” Soap pushed his chair away from the table, leaving the two photos behind as he slid a smaller polaroid into his wallet.

It was no secret to any of them that the two of you were going steady, being forced to listen to the Scotsman blabber about how amazing you were. The phone calls were few and far between, mainly because of his profession. He wanted to take you on another date, show you how better of a boyfriend he could be. It just took time, and you were willing to wait as long as it took.

[niftukkun]

=The Exiled=

[A fierce combatant with unrelenting claws and a better jump than most. With rage in your heart, yours is a path is lined with constant blood and wrath.]

[Little Gods and Passing Beasts AU, aka roleswapped rain world! ;; more under the cut]

scug Pebbles in Artificer's campaign!! as is only right. they have rage-to-rage communication no matter the world lmao.

so yeah pebbles with a hella grudge. a little bit of a twist though, in this campaign you are not targeting scavengers, but vultures. vultures in the Inquirer, Hearth, Skydiver, and Exiled campaigns are much more common compared to Drifter, Surveyor, and Martyr's campaigns. id imagine theyre still limited to certain areas and maybe even regions - so for example, no vultures in the shaded citadel equivalent, but in areas where they can be encountered, there would be very very many of them and an extremely high likelihood of encounter and death. to keep things balanced, however, the hp of regular vultures and king vultures are lowered, though not by that much only to like 50 or 75% of their actual HP. to fight, Exiled has a maul like Artificer but better and a double jump ability similar to Arti but without the actual bomb part. they also have the boosted spear damage like Arti and Hunter. i am also very tempted to give them Gourmand's drop slam thing just for funsies but thats only a maybe right now. in the Exiled campaign, it starts like Artificers in getting a citizen ID drone, and starts picking up when you get to the metropolis equivalent ive been calling Lofty Roost. after exploring for a bit you may find the tallest building, the highest perch, and encounter the King Miros Vulture (>20 HP, essentially a miros vulture w the harpoons, slightly faster land walk speed, and a cool unique vulture mask).

the Exiled was once a young, arrogant and slightly callous little scuppy. upon reaching hunting age, the Not Yet Exiled decided to be a little... risky. decided to hunt a vulture, a common threat in the colony's territory, all by themself. and they succeeded. at the time, the Not Yet Exiled was the only one injured, the only one who got close enough to the successfully hunted vulture to get a scar in their eye. when the rest of the hunting party drew close however, is when things started going wrong. the King Miros Vulture was in the area. everyone was too occupied, too distracted to see it before it swooped down and struck. the Hearth, kindest and loved by the colony, got snapped up. thankfully it was a fairly large hunting party, so no one died. though quite a lot were injured, the Hearth had the worst injury and that was only because every scug was caught off guard. however, it was still a hunting party. sure the colony can forage and they do have a stockpile of food, but thats a big blow to food acquirement, and the Hearth, who was only there because it was their little sibling's first hunt, was injured to the point it would take several cycles for them to recover - if they will at all. so. the colony leaders decided to exile the young scug. this was their first hunt. their skill assessment, to see if they are fit to hunt at all - and they went out on their own and decided to hunt one of the biggest threats in the area. sure, it was successful, and if they did manage to bring back the vulture with no one else hurt the colony leaders might have even considered giving the young scug a reward in the name of sharpening their already exceptional hunting skills - but they went out on their own when slugcats are supposed to hunt together, to make sure everyone comes home. willful endangerment of an entire party like that,, they can't let it slide. so the Exile was exiled. given instructions of a territory far enough away where the hunting is good and told they are never able to go home. it angered them. it was a successful hunt! they took down a vulture! sure a couple scugs were injured but it wasnt their fault! they dont know if their sibling is alive oh stars what have they done.

after quite a lot of cycles living alone, stewing in anger and guilt and hunting down almost exclusively vultures, they decide to move. they make their way,,, somewhere. and find an odd device that starts following them around. after more wandering they eventually find an iterator named Explosive Redamancy, fallen but functional and calling them her citizen? sure. more importantly she gives them information on where the King Miros Vulture is! Revenge Will Be Theirs!!! revenge will not bring Hearth back. will not let them back in their colony. is it even worth it? it has to be. what else could they do?

[clanofjones]

Ghosts of Our Days - Chapter Eleven

Ao3

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Chapter Eleven: Two's a Company, Three is a Crime

TW: Homophobic language and semi-graphic descriptions of murder.

A/N: Co-written with @theosb0rnway :)

Casey Jones never took the day off, that was a fact set deep in stone. If evil never slept, then neither did she, but this was different. 

He needed a day to process the idea that his boyfriend was not just a corpse in an icy coffin, but a being, a SPIRIT, that only Casey could see. He slept mostly, residing on top of the ice box while Raph watched her from afar, hesitant to make a move and not wanting to scare or piss off his lover. He didn't want to be double dead. 

The next day was far more productive, and Casey seemed to be in a much better mood after his almost day-long rest. The duo sat at the little coffee table in the middle of the room, Casey writing down ideas for his next moves against Shredder while Raph played with his ghostly sais. 

Who knew that whatever you had on your person also went with you to the next life? Raph didn't know much, or used to care much, about death, thinking he was some invincible force that even when battling Oroku Saki as Super Shredder could not be defeated, but now, here he was, thoroughly defeated. 

He was dead, and he was spiritually attached to the prettiest lunatic on planet Earth whose only current goal was to kill Super Shredder, not something normal like taking a shower or eating a meal that wasn't packaged. It was an issue, sure, but then again, to Hamato Raphael, Casey Jones was the definition of putting the 'hot' in psychotic. 

Said hot lunatic was actually being productive, scribbling some ideas down that Raphael surprisingly approved of. 

Ways to get that bastard's attention: 

Don't? Nah, that's no fun 

Bomb the old mansion 

Karai? 

Take down Tiger Face 

Fish Face 

Wolf Dude 

Beat the shit outta Hun! 

There was a giant scribbled star by the last one, making it officially Casey's favorite choice, despite it loosely having to deal with Shredder. Off to the side, there were little drawings of Casey using various weapons to kill Shredder and his Foot goons, which Raphael tried to ignore as best he could. Then something else popped into the scheming vigilante's mind, a way to get not only Shredder's attention, but the entire city's. A way to make himself truly known. It was a... different idea, but Casey knew she had to throw it out there. For all he knew, Raph might actually like it. 

"Hey, Raphie?" 

"Yeah, babe?"

"...What 'bout goin' after a cop?"

"A cop?" Raph didn't seem angry, which was a good sign. 

"Yeah! Get us actual attention from all the cameras and reporters and shit cause killin' the Foot ain't doin' nothin'." 

"Wait, you wanna... kill a cop?" Casey looked at Raph like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was. 

"Duh! Hurting one won't do anything!" 

"Casey, I agree that it'll get us the attention we need, but if we do that, it's gonna get us attention from EVERYWHERE. We're gonna have to be way more careful about what we do and how we're see- how you're seen." 

"So you're... not mad?" Is that really what Casey was focused on right now? 

"'Course I'm not mad, Case! Cops are assholes-" 

"Damn right!" 

"But we also gotta focus on keeping you safe. I know you can pull off the job, but the hardest part is making sure whatever they send after you doesn't find you." 

"I can handle it, Raphie. I hate you always rainin' on my parade, sayin' I can't do things like you can. Not like this is my first time dealing with pigs." 

"I'm not 'raining on your parade', babe, I'm just scared you can't do this by yourself." 

"Casey Jones wo-" 

"I know, I know! 'Casey Jones works better alone', but you can't work at all if you're caught, or worse, killed!" Casey sighed, but from behind her mask, he looked like he was in thought, chewing at her bottom lip. 

"Alright, I'll listen to you, just this once. So whaddya think I should do after I off the guy? Or lady? Or... what's a word for not a dude or a girl?" 

Raph did a facepalm. "It's just a cop, Case, Jesus Christ." 

"Yeah, you're right. But what should I do after I off the pig?" 

"Lay low. Before you do it, we should go out one last time for food and supplies, stuff that'll last us at least a month or so."

"A month? Hope they got those dumb little number puzzles at the store cause I'm gonna need 'em." 

"Sudokus, and yeah. Ya know ya' got me too, babe." 

"I know, but now that I can't pin ya down, I've gotta find other ways to keep busy." 

Raph swore he could hear Casey smirk and blushed a little, not that he could tell.

"I'm gonna need paint too, and I might... I'm gonna try to stop by my place, get clothes, money stash, firepower, all that." 

"Alright." 

"Raph?" 

"Yeah?" 

"...C-Can I let her see me? She's good at keepin' secrets, she doesn't know 'bout what we do, there's no way they could tie me to her if we're careful-" 

"Yeah. Tell her Mr. Turtle says he loves her, okay?" "Course, baby. I know she loves you too, a lot. Oh god, she has no idea that you-" 

Raph put a hand on Casey's shoulder and grimaced at her natural flinch. "Sorry. Look, don't tell her, it'll break her little heart and nobody wants that." 

"I wasn't going to, I'm not gonna hurt my baby sis like that, she's everything I've got left! A-and I left her all alone with Arnold... oh FUCK ME!" Casey slammed her fist down on the table and Raph could hear her crying underneath the mask. 

"It'll be okay, Case, I promise." 

"Will it though?" 

"If we get it done right, yeah. It'll be fuckin awesome." 

"You promise?" 

"I promise, dumbass." 

"Thanks, Raphie boy." 

"No problem, Casey baby." Raph put his arms around Casey, and even though she couldn't exactly do the same, he still tried his best. Casey broke the "hug" standing up slowly and stretching herself out. 

"Ugh! That fuckin table's so low, it's more of a pain in my back than Donnie!" Raph snorted, standing up through the table. 

"So where to, master planner? 

"First thing's first!" She smiled through the mask, "I need the rest my gear." It seems Raph had more experience breaking into Casey's house than she did, knowing how to climb onto the ledge and unlock the window so they could slip inside. Casey's room hadn't changed one bit, if you don't count the smell being fifty times worse. Given that it was 1 am, Arnold was fast asleep on the couch, and poor Angel was in the room right next to Casey's, no doubt breathing in that godawful smell and wondering when her brother would come back. 

Casey opened the door to the living room, sneaking quietly past Arnold and into Angel's room. He closed the door behind her, softly speed walking over to her little sister's bed. "Angel?" He ran a gloved hand through her hair and watched as the young girl opened her eyes. She seemed scared, and Casey realized it was because of the mask. "It's me, Ange, it's me!" He flipped the mask up to show off his real face for the first time in months. No paint, no skulls, no nothing, just Casey Jones. 

"CA'EY!" Angel whisper-screamed, getting up and jumping into her brother's arms for a hug. 

"Shhh! Gotta be quiet, lil sis! Don't want Dad to hear me, kay?" The girl nodded, a huge grin still stuck on her face. 

"I miss you, Ca'ey! Miss you lot!" 

"Me too, Angel, me too." He started to cry, Angel's grin dropping as she heard her sister start to sob. 

"Why you cryin', Ca'ey? Don' be sad!" 

"I'm not sad, I'm happy! I'm cryin' cause I love you, kiddo. I'm so sorry I left you here, I didn't want to, I didn't mean to, you don't deserve this!" 

They stayed like that for another few minutes, hugging while Casey cried, before Angel asked, "Where you go, big bro? Can I come too?" 

Casey shook his head. "No way. Casey had to go somewhere far away to keep you safe, and I gotta go back again until I'm done with my job." 

"Wha' job, Ca'ey?" 

"Somebody hurt me really bad and so I'm gonna hurt them really bad too. Remember how I taught you that? If somebody hurts you-" 

"You hurt ‘em too!" 

"Exactly! That's exactly right, baby sis!" 

Angel giggled, smiling up at her big sister. "When you gonna come back?" 

"Soon, Angie, soon. I promise. I'll be back as soon as I can be and then I'll never leave again! I pinky swear!" 

"You pinky swear?"

"Always." They locked pinkies and bumped foreheads, making Casey's promise something he could no longer break, not that she ever intended to break it. 

"Ca'ey? Where's Mista Turtle?" Casey's breath hitched and he quickly looked behind him to see Raph standing there, silently staring at him and nodding. 

"He's... he's back at my safe place, he's doin' alright. Want me to say hi to him for ya?" 

"Yeah! Mista Turtle gonna come back too, Ca'ey?" 

"Of course he is! We're both gonna come back as soon as we can!" He hated lying to Angel about that, but it was the best he could do for now. He couldn't bear to ever tell her the truth, it was too much. 

"He told me to tell you that he loves you VERY much and that he misses your stupid tea parties." 

"They're not stupid!" 

"Hey, tell that to him, not me! I love 'em!" 

"Yay! And I love YOU Ca'ey!" 

"Me too, lil sis." He paused. "Hey, Angel? You gotta promise me something now, alright?" 

"What is it, Ca'ey?" She bounced up and down on her bed with excitement. 

"If you see me on the TV, or hear about me from the bad people in blue, you CAN NOT tell them anything about me, okay baby sis?" 

Angel nodded seriously. "Ca'ey in trouble?" 

"Big BIG trouble." 

"Uh oh! I keep Ca'ey safe from evil people! I help you, big bro!" 

Casey smiled, a fresh wave of tears dripping down his face. "Thank you SO much, Angel, I love you, okay baby?" 

"I love you too Ca'ey! So SO SO SO MUCH!" 

"You go back to sleep now, okay?" 

"Okay... Are you gonna sleep too, Ca'ey?"

"In a little bit, yeah. I gotta do a few things first, but then I'm gonna go back and get some sleep with Mr. Turtle!" 

"Yay! Casey look sleepy, Casey need sleep!" 

"I will, Ange, I will. Can you go back to sleep okay or you need me here for a bit?" 

"Can Ca'ey stay?" 

"Of course. I'll always stay for you, Angel Jones." He sat down next to the bed as Angel tucked herself into the covers. 

"Love you, Ca'ey..." 

"Love you too, Angel." It took Angel about three minutes to fall asleep with Casey rubbing her back. The vigilante stood up, slipped his mask back on, and walked back into his own room, Raph following quickly behind her. 

"Ya gonna get some sleep now, Case?" 

"No. Gotta do a few more things." 

"You heard Angel-" 

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her." 

He grabbed a giant plastic bag from the corner of the room and started cleaning everything out. All the rotting food was thrown out the window, the clothes and weapons stuffed into a bag, posters yanked off the walls and shoved in as well. By the time the bag was full, the room looked like it had barely been occupied. 

"Let's go, Raphie. We got what we came for." 

"Whatever you say, Case." 

The duo made their separate jumps out the window and fled into the night. Now all they needed was just to get the rest of the supplies for the murder. Ah, Walmart. 

The place where you can go at 2 am and nobody, nobody, notices you, no matter how out of the ordinary you look. At least, the security doesn't notice. If Casey got a few odd looks from some equally creepy old ladies, she sure didn't give a flying fuck about it. 

As she picked out the biggest package of Sour Patch Kids he could find and put it in her basket, he noticed a little girl staring at him from behind her father's leg at the other end of the aisle. 

He wondered why the hell a little girl was in Walmart at 2 am, but once again, it was none of his business. He smiled and gave her a little wave, watching her gasp and wave back. 

"Casey, you don't need that." 

"Bite me, Raphie." He muttered under her breath. He walked past the little girl and gave her a wink from under the mask, smiling as she heard her talking to her very disinterested father. 

"Daddy! Daddy! The boy with the cool mask waved at me!"

 "Uh huh. Whatever you say, sweetie." 

Casey loved being herself. As she suspected, even with her blood covered clothes and dirtied skull mask, the dead eyed cashier didn't even seem to notice him. He'd just bought all the supplies for a molotov cocktail, homemade grenades, war paint, and some candy just for funsies and nobody cared!

Raph was right, stocking up on things before his next hit was totally paying off! Raph had been muttering to himself the whole time, Casey tuning him out as best she could. His negative attitude was totally burning a hole in his bad girl persona! 

He forked over some of the money she stole from the Foot goons to the cashier, who gave him a dead-eyed stare and accepted the bills. Casey doubted she would have spared a second glance if Raph, in all his ghostiness, had been visible to others, not only a mutant turtle, but also a semi-transparent ghost. Then again, the lady did work in customer service at Walmart in New York, she figured not much would surprise this lady. 

“Have a nice day– NIGHT! I meant night,” the cashier said, automatically course-correcting, eyes widening briefly as she blinked from the daze that must come with working such a long shift. 

“You too,” Casey said as she accepted some bags and exited. A soft ‘whoosh’ of air hit his face as she stepped out of the sliding glass doors with as much vindication as one could when one stepped over a door threshold. Idly, he realized he should probably get her hands on a car. Or at least figure out some mode of transportation other than his own gear. 

Shifting the bags into one hand as she walked into an alley, with Raph bobbing around her head, Casey fired his grappling hook. 

It caught in a more stable part of the ladder, in contrast to the part of the ladder close to the ground, which was mangled and bent all out of shape.

Casey kept to the edge, so that he ascended in a vertical climb to her stomping grounds. She had to fire her grappling hook twice, the second time impaling deep the ceiling of the small room he and Raph resided in, only ascending again after three light tugs confirmed that the brick wasn’t about to cave, and send Casey to an early grave. 

Any time before Oroku Saki’s grave was far too soon, she decided, spreading his newly bought wares on the floor. Investing in an actual table (or at least not a floor that was both freezing and almost definitely infested with any number of roaches and other bugs to make Raph die twice) wouldn’t be a bad idea either. 

She dumped the bags down on the ground, grabbing the bag he'd taken from his home and setting it down next to the first one and sitting down on the ground next to the coffee table. 

"C’mon Raphie! Don't be a stranger!" The turtle was hanging out towards the window, away from the short excuse for a table, slightly pissed that Casey had lied to Angel's face about getting a good night sleep. 

He begrudgingly walked over, not wanting to deny his lover, almost there when his foot fell through the floor. He thought he'd fixed this already! The angry terrapin could hear Casey's cackle as he pulled his foot from the floor, a growl leaving his throat. 

"Oh shut up." Casey stopped laughing for once, her face morphing into one of concern. 

"You okay, Raph?" Uh oh. Not Raphie, just Raph. That meant he was serious, and serious Casey Jones could sometimes be a scarier creature than the angry, insane, or even pissed sides of Casey Jones. 

"I'm fine, Case." 

"Raph. I know you're lyin', knucklehead. What's going on?" 

"Why'd you lie to Angel about sleeping?" 

"I didn't!" 

"Yeah, ya' clearly did!" 

"No way, man! As soon as I kill a cop, I'm coming back here and we can sleep on the ice box together! The two of us! It's really comfy once ya get adjusted to it!" Raph shook his head. 

At least Casey was serious about going to bed, that was a start. She still had a long way to go in terms of mental health, and if he was finally trying to get better, Raph wasn’t about to say no, even if it was sleeping on that godforsaken freezer box that his own fucking corpse was being kept in. 

"Alright. I'll sleep on the fuckin’ death box." Casey glared. 

"Don't call it that, asshole!" 

"Hey, my body box, my choice." Casey looked confused for a moment before shrugging. 

"I don't think the saying goes like that, but whatever, dude." Her face softened. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Raphie. I didn't mean it, I promise."

"It's alright, Casey, I get it. You like it cause it's me in there, and you have your own way of coping. I should respect that. I DO respect it." 

"Thanks. That um... means a lot, babe." Raph could see a hint of an actual, genuinely sweet Casey Jones smile, taking the moment to sit down next to him, cup her cheeks, and kiss him softly what would be her lips under the mask. Casey gasped before pressing her lips to the inside of the mask. 

God, did he miss kissing Raph the normal way, pinning him against a wall, making out slowly until both of them were left breathless. She was pulled out of her thoughts as Raph broke the kiss, setting a pair of pants haphazardly on her lap. "Here." He pulled out a Sharpie too, and the older boy was impressed at how well he could hold it. 

"Woah! You weren't kidding when you said you could hold shit, babe! Holy macaroni, you're good!" 

They shared a laugh, Casey getting to work on redecorating the old pair of ratty gray jeans. Recreating his clothing took about an hour and a half, two Sharpies, a pair of scissors, half a braincell shared between them both, and an old burner phone playing Casey's "Battle Songs for Fucking Up Bitches" playlist. 

Putting on the newly acquired corpse paint took them another hour, Casey insisting on putting the white paint on herself first before Raph saw his face. By the end of it, his entire face, ears, neck, and forearms were covered in elaborate designs Raph took his sweet time making and touching up. Casey put on the first pair of redesigned jeans, slipping on a black long sleeved shirt before adding his Insane Clown Posse "Hatchetman" shirt on top of that. 

Her gear followed, then Raph with the bandana, and finally, the turtle lowered the skull mask over his love's face, finally readying her for the best part of the night. 

"You look beautiful, Casey Jones." 

"Thanks, Raphael Tomato." 

"Hamato." 

"Tomato, Hamato!" They let out a giggle before Casey started towards the door, taking the regular way out the building for once. It was time to go out and take down one of the worst threats to society. 

It wasn't hard for her to find a cop car just sitting around on some random street far enough away from the hideout that he wouldn't be chased back. Casey smirked to himself seeing the guy eating a donut through the side window. She pulled out his spray can, shaking it, letting the black paint attach itself to the wall, starting her latest masterpiece. That ugly bastard in his car didn't like that at ALL. 

He made the show of flashing his lights before hurriedly getting out of his car, cuffs in hand. 

"Hey kid! Drop the can and put your hands in the air! You're under arrest for vandalizing private property!" 

Casey continued to spray the paint, humming some random tune as he went. 

"Hey! Kid! Can you hear me? Kid!" 

"Oh, I heard you alright. I just don't listen to people as low in this world as you." He laughed. "I don't listen to assholes as evil as you." 

"Kid, the only one doing evil is you." He walked over to Casey and grabbed him by his freshly painted arm, causing Casey to flinch and whip around, hitting the cop dead in the face with the spray can. 

"Fuck off, grease-hands! My boyfriend just worked for two hours on that shit and I ain't lettin' a no good pig ruin all his hard work!" 

The cop stumbled back, blood falling from his nose and mouth. "Alright, ya little faggot," he pulled out the gun from his holster. "No more Mr. Nice Guy." 

Casey ducked as the shots fired, pulling out her own gun and shooting the cop in the leg. Unlike him, she never missed his targets. The cop screamed, falling to the ground as Casey pulled out his hockey stick. 

"Aw! Looks like Mr. Not So Nice Guy couldn't even beat up a fag like me! So sad!" 

The hockey stick swung down once, twice, five times, ten, until the pig was officially down on the ground. Then Casey pulled out a knife, relishing the look of horror on the cop's face as she stepped on top of him, kneeling on his chest and taking off her mask.

"I'm not even gonna lie, this is gonna fuckin hurt! Well, this is what you get for trying to arrest a lady just for makin' his art!" The cop looked mildly confused, but that was replaced by a wave of horror as the knife pressed against his skin. 

Casey gave him a false sense of security for two seconds before lifting it up and slashing his throat with one solid motion. 

"Go to hell, fag-" The cop choked out, his eyes wide as Casey watched the life slowly leave him. 

"How's it feel be killed by a fag? Cause it sounds pretty good to me!" As his head finally met the street, Casey could hear cheering from above him, seeing Raph on the rooftop and waving. 

"Look, Raphie! I did it!" He sounded like a kindergartener showing off their latest art project to their mom. 

"I know! I'm so proud of you, babe! Now hurry up with that paint, will ya?" 

Casey didn't waste another second, spreading the dead man's blood all over his gloved fingers and using it as a paint of its own. She alternated between spray can and blood, finishing up in a few minutes before going back to the cop and wiping the smeared corpse paint off his right hand. Raph smiled from above, so glad Casey remembered his rule about leaving no trace. 

Before she left, Casey went over to the car, opening it with his not bloody hand, and grabbed the half eaten donut from on top of the middle console. She climbed up the ladder to where Raph was waiting, gazing down upon her finished masterpiece. 

"It's perfect!" 

"Is that really one you're going with?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Alright, I just didn't know you were gonna do it." 

"But you like it?" 

“Of course I like it, Case, I love it! Let's get outta here." They spend the whole way home singing and laughing, Casey reminding himself to wash the blood off her glove so that no one could trace that lowlife's murder back to him. Oh, it really was a good night after all. 

Turtles POV 

The news was the only thing played on the TV anymore, much to Mikey's dismay, but Donnie controlled the living room now, so the TV was technically in his domain. 

The team was all piled up on the benches, sitting down to watch the 10 o'clock news like it was the newest superhero movie, popcorn, pizza, and all. 

"This is Channel 5 news, I'm Theresa Merdir. Breaking news, cop murdered on 5th and Walnut, killer leaves behind a disturbing message to all. Warning, this story contains images of gore and violence. Viewer discretion is advised." 

The group all looked at each other with worried expressions, save for Mikey who was focused solely on the TV. He gasped as the images were shown, many of the dead cop's wounds, but then they flipped to another chilling sight. Written on the cop's face in his own blood was: ‘Look up’, and the camera did exactly that, showing Casey's boldest artwork yet. April let out a gasp of her own. "Oh my god, Donnie, is that-'' 

Donnie looked equally horrified, he could only nod and whisper "It is." 

In a combination of cop's blood and spray paint was Casey's signature hockey mask next to tall, bold graffiti letters that read one single bone chilling word: "Skullshot."

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring - Chapter 22

Also on Ao3 :) Find Ch. 21 here!

The horns blew at dawn, but everyone was already long awake. Tamlin and Penny held hands, fully encased in their armor, and waited until the last possible moment to separate. Penny had never had so many weapons on her at once–the double swords at her back, her ribs sheathed in daggers, as well as her thighs and boots. In addition to the magic at her disposal, she was as good as a walking armory, and she was prepared to fight her way to the front. At least physically.

The armies of Prythian stretched for miles in each direction, as far as the eye could see, and the Illyrians and the Day Court Peregryns dotted the horizon. The Night Court held the center where Penny and Tamlin stood, their family gathered around them, readying for war.

The Valkyries had taken off before dawn so that they could get into position closer to the castle undetected. She’d embraced her friends tightly the night before, wishing them the best of luck, and exchanging promises with Nesta to see each other again on the other side of battle. She could feel as much as see the High Lords across the sea of Prythians, surging with power and preparing their generals to instruct their troops, just as Rhys was doing with Cassian currently. Helion had come to stand with Night, since he, Lucien, and Penny would be building the wards.

Across the vast expanse of the land around the lake, the massive army that Koeschi had amassed covered the ground for miles and blotted out the white of the snow. Certainly, they had been smart to not underestimate him. Even without the power of the mask to compel, it seemed the draw and promise of power from a Death God was enough to motivate more humans. It was clearly enough to motivate Lord Nolan, and Lucien seethed with rabid rage to see him again. In addition to all of Graysen’s armies, it appeared the cast offs from Hybern who had remained laying low the past few years had come out of hiding at last. Any of the remaining cast offs–and it seemed there were many–had grouped together with the promise of glory. With Prythian’s forces still somewhat diminished from the war four years prior, they would, unfortunately, be fairly evenly matched in numbers. Penny was grateful that they had anticipated this as a worst-case scenario.

Tamlin turned to Penny and held her face in his hands, kissing her roughly and pouring every bit of emotion down that golden bond between them.

“I love you,” he growled, voice heavy with emotion, pulling back only to pull her close again and press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, too,” she said, with a conviction that didn’t match the trembling of her heart. She held him as closely as she could, inhaling the achingly familiar, earthen scent dappled with honeysuckle that she now associated with home. He pulled back reluctantly.

“See you soon, Sunshine.” He winked, but the mirth didn’t meet his eyes, and it took every last scrap of willpower she had to drop his hand.

“See you soon, Tam.” She watched him walk to the war tent, pushing herself to permanently paint this view of him into her mind. Him, whole and unharmed, the feel of his lips still warm on her skin. She forced herself to turn and walk towards Helion and Lucien, willing the tears out of her eyes.

“Everything okay with Elain?” She asked Lucien. He nodded, looking solemn.

“I checked in one last time early this morning. Everything is fine in Night. She is very uncomfortable, but otherwise fine.” He smiled, the upturn of his lips not meeting his eyes either.

“And your mother?” Lucien went to speak, but Helion answered.

“My brave High Lady is holding our walls, just in case things go wrong here.” Lucien sighed, raking his hand through his hair. Penny put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, understanding entirely, and then they got to work building the wards.

They’d practiced the warding in the past few months, the intricate weaving of wild, glowing tethers. It was tedious, but also calming in its repetition and steadiness. Penny let her focus fall solely to this, and allowed her breathing to even out and her determination to push out her panic and heartbreak. They could see the human armies preparing their approach as they reached the end of the ward weaving, just in time.

Sweat pouring down her back, Penny stepped away, looking towards the two males she’d been working with. “Good luck, you two. Stay alive.” They nodded to her, and the three went their separate ways, Penny searching for Rhys in the last-minute chaos. Upon a nearby raised knoll, she found Rhys and Feyre surveying the incoming army, advancing with the bellowing of the war horns. Cassian was off guiding the aerial forces to prepare the attack.

Rhys and Feyre looked somber. “They have all of the missing ash arrows from the war. We were never able to account for the majority of them. Eris tried to warn us repeatedly, and I guess it looks like now we know why.” Just then, an explosion of blue powder jetted across the field into a section of Summer court soldiers. “Fuck, that’s faebane.” Rhys cursed. “We have to move.” Penny averted her eyes to give Feyre and Rhys and gave them a moment of privacy to kiss and say goodbye.

Feyre came and hugged Penny. She held her hand up to summon her powers, dropping them gently into the glass orb for Penny to strap at her side. If she lost Rhys’ power on the field, it made the most sense for her to have an arsenal of backups, so they’d chosen Feyre’s powers.

“Stay safe, Penny. I’ll see you after.”

“Stay safe, Feyre.” They let go, nodding once as they parted ways.

It had made the most sense for Penny to mirror Rhys’ power while he got her to the front lines. His powers, in a battle setting, would have the most impact upon their enemies. She wore the leather bands from Nuan, hoping the concentration of the powers would allow her to use them for longer and avoid a burnout. From their distance, she could see the lines beginning to clash before them, Summer already having reorganized to make up for the faebane, throwing up shields where they could to prevent another hit. The wards did nothing to stop the faebane, it seemed, but hopefully the magical shields could.

It was made abundantly clear as Rhys and Penny made their way down the hill that the humans were being enhanced by the powers of the Death God. Dark shadows danced around the masses of human armies, and their fighting hummed with a strange power. They didn’t just have ash arrows and faebane, they had an entire arsenal of new machinery that distributed these weapons in ways that turned them from dangerous to absolutely devastating.

Penny tried not to let the panic overtake her as she and Rhys sprinted to the battle proper. She watched as he used his power to mist large portions of the incoming army before they could even reach the front lines of Prythian’s. She pressed her hand onto his shoulder as she vaulted beside him and began.

After fighting side by side for a while, taking down group after group of soldiers, she and Rhys had been separated in the fray, but she hadn’t lost sight of the edge of the lake where she knew Koeschi would be. Her visions had shown him, clear as day, in the front of the lines on the Eastern shore, so that is where she aimed. When she felt that tug of Rhys’ power starting to wear her down, she switched to physical warfare, her lessons with Cass, Az, and the Valkyries serving her well. She cut down line after line of soldiers, only using her magic sparsely to throw the occasional shield to protect her from the floating clouds of faebane and the arrows that pierced the sky.

Every time she expected her physical body to tire, her fae form proved her wrong. She felt as though she could do this for hours, days even, the bloodlust exhilarating. She’d worried before this battle that she might have trouble taking human life, being that she had been human once. But with each slice of her sword, she let the fury fill her. These people came here to hurt her family. To hurt Tamlin. To hurt those children and families in Spring. And not only did the deaths not weigh on her at all, they fueled her further, the blood slicking down her body and face. She let herself become the battlefield, the nightmare that these humans believed the fae to be.

As she decimated another row of men, she halted dead in her tracks. Penny could see Feyre, straight ahead, surrounded by no less than fifteen men who were fighting wildly to restrain her one free hand with faebane manacles, her first already secured. To her horror, Cassian lay on the ground nearby, motionless, his wings littered with arrows. Feyre was screaming and thrashing, a wild animal cornered and fighting to the death. And with the faebane muting her magic, she was losing.

Without another thought, Penny changed her direction to Feyre and Cassian, sprinting to them in a straight line. She dodged the arrows coming at her, throwing a shield at the ones she couldn’t manage to avoid. She threw the sword back into the holster at her back and picked up speed with her approach. Angling to come in behind the men holding Feyre down, she vaulted at the last minute, dragging into a slide beneath the men, grabbing hold of Feyre’s forearm, screaming “DUCK!”, turning, then sending a plume of blue-hot fire back into the line of men struggling to keep Feyre down.

The men fell in a blaze of flame, shrieking in agony as the fire burned them from the inside out. The three men remaining advanced on them as Penny fumbled to remove the manacles from Feyre. She realized with great disappointment that the orb at her side had shattered in the fray, the shards of glass in their pouch now useless.

“Penny, look out!” Feyre screamed, and Penny whipped around in time to see a sword swinging down upon them. Without thinking, Penny lunged in front of Feyre, shooting a hand out and focusing on using the water magic to force its way down the men’s throats. She watched as the leader’s eyes, panicked while he drowned on dry land, found hers as she smiled wickedly. She was pulled back to the moment by Feyre shaking her shoulder. “Penny! The sword.” She felt for the one over her shoulder, assuming that was what Feyre meant, only to find a greatsword lodged in her stomach. The agony split through her before her brain could catch up.

“Oh.”

She pulled in a gasp of air, in shock. Reaching down, she thumbed over the edge of the sword. Feyre was taking the moment to pull the remaining manacles off herself. Gritting her teeth, Penny ripped the sword out of her with a whoosh of breath, groaning as she tossed it to the earth. She fell on her hands and knees and panted, willing the black spots dancing behind her eyes to abate. She still had to get to the front.

It was then she felt the warmth wash over her side, the copper smell of magic filling her nose more potently than she’d smelled in months. When she looked up to Feyre kneeling next to her, she knew she’d find her side mended.

“Thank you,” she breathed, testing her weight as she eased back.

“Thank you,” Feyre muttered back. “You saved my life, Penny. They would have killed me.”

“Can you winnow Cass to the med tent?” Feyre nodded, then ran to him. Before the winnow took them, her eyes met Penny’s, rimmed with tears. It was goodbye.

Penny got to her feet, sprinting back towards the front of the lines again. She could see Rhys and Tamlin near the front of the Eastern shoreline, right where they were meant to be. From the North near the castle, she could make out the Valkyries, sprinting as they cut through the armies like butter, carrying what she hoped was the box towards them. Exactly as she had hoped, exactly as she had seen. Everyone would converge in the right place at the right time.

Against her better judgment, hope bloomed in her heart before she could stop it. Could they pull this off? Could Penny walk away from this and get that future she’d only barely allowed herself to imagine?

As they all neared the point of convergence, the water of the lake violently rippled and a massive shockwave covered it. Something had happened, and Penny knew it was not good. Tamlin’s eyes met hers as she sprinted towards them, and he mouthed something at her, terror filling his eyes.

What?

“KOESCHI” he screamed, and the lake erupted. She only had a second to throw up a shield, mere yards from Tamlin and Rhys, as a tidal wave washed the eastern shore of the lake. She immediately pivoted back and began sprinting towards him, the Valkyries closing in on the other side. They were halted by a massive edge of the human army, encroaching on the side of the lake and overwhelming the Valkyries before they could reach them.

Nesta, covered head to toe in blood, sent whips of silver flames at the army, but it wasn’t making enough of a dent for them to break through. Penny could see the onyx box strapped to Nesta’s side, and she knew this was the pivotal moment. If they didn’t get the box to her, this would all end here. She ran past Tamlin and Rhys, making towards the back of the army holding the Valkyries.

Before she even made it to them, the forest to the side of them exploded in a flaming circle–a portal– throwing Penny to the side. As she looked up, the first thing she saw was Eris, wreathed in flame, emerging with a massive squadron of Autumn soldiers behind him. As they advanced on the humans holding the Valkyries back, a hole of fire opened in the sky and out dropped a woman –a very pregnant woman–covered entirely by flame. Tilly hit the ground next to Eris, already pulling back a flaming bowstring to aim towards the human army. Eris lifted his sword of fire, screaming a battle cry, and the army of Autumn plowed forward, pushing the humans into the lake itself and allowing the Valkyries to continue their forward push to her.

Penny ran to Nesta, meeting her halfway with relief, and taking the box that Nesta thrust towards her.

“He’s coming. The lake erupting was him breaking from the castle. He realized the women were gone, and he’s coming to fight.” Penny went to answer but was stopped by a violent ripping in her chest. The bond.

She whipped around to see Tamlin and Rhys already fighting. “He’s here.” She turned to sprint towards the two without thinking, without waiting for any of the Valkyries.

“Penny, wait!” She ignored the calls. Tamlin was in trouble.

The Death God was here, and though he knew the box was missing, it seemed he thought Rhys might have it, considering the amount of power he was throwing at him. Rhys was struggling to keep up, but Tamlin was doing everything to distract him. If she approached from this angle, she could come up behind Koeschi and touch him quickly enough to get the powers into the box. She slid to a stop behind a rock on the banks as Tamlin’s power flared. She sent one last stroke of love down the bond, took a deep breath, and ran.

Koeschi was draped in black, a figure who looked both old and young somehow. His skin was as pale as the moon, and there was something about him that looked wrong. From the back, the power rippled off him, making the edges of him appear almost incomplete. She could feel the dark magic suffusing the air around him. She knew she had one shot at this. She ran and steeled herself with a final breath as she approached the last few feets and reached out her hand.

The second she made contact, she felt like she was slamming into a brick wall. She was jolted back in a way that felt as though she’d been flung from her own body, the power crackling like live lightning through every vein and bone and nerve. She could distantly hear herself screaming, and the light poured from her mouth and eyes. It was agony, but she could vividly feel the ancient power of millenia flowing through her, and the magic began to settle.

She could focus enough to feel for the box tucked to her side. She yanked it out and threw it to the ground in front of her, dropping to her knees. She could see Rhys and Tamlin, dirty and blood-covered and exhausted, watching with terror. Koeschi’s inhuman face turned to her in malice. She pulled every bit of magic from within her, from the world, from the very essence of power itself, and she funneled it into the box.

It’s going to work. It’s going to work. It’s going to–

Sparks shot off the box as smoke began pouring from it.

“Yes!” She screamed, but she heard a dark laugh approaching from behind her.

The smoke began to clear as she pulled back. The horror dawned on her in the exact moment his voice rang out around her, the voice of life and death, young and old.

“Not even my power is enough to break the box. That’s intentional, my little mirror.” Every bit of hope that Penny had held onto withered with the smoke, as she looked down to find the box unscathed in a scorched patch of earth. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Penelope Briggs.”

“No,” she whispered, the tears rolling down her face.

She looked up at Tamlin and Rhys as she felt Koeschi approach from the side.

This would be how it ended, then.

She would not go down without weakening him. Rhys had made her a promise, and she would go down fighting to honor that. She cast her thoughts out to him.

I will do everything I can to weaken him. Take down as many as you can, and I will hold him until I can’t anymore.

Rhys looked at her. Thank you, Penny.

She turned her eyes to Tamlin, taking in his handsome face, eyes filled with fear as understanding dawned upon him. “I am so thankful for the time we had,” she croaked through her tears. She could see his heart breaking as plain as day across his face, and she knew he intended to fight. She wouldn’t let him. “I will always love you, Tamlin.” She turned to Rhys. “Go.”

Rhys reached out for Tamlin the second Tamlin understood what had happened, and his roar of “PENNY, NO” echoed across the surface of the lake as Rhys winnowed him away, as promised.

She choked on a sob as it clawed its way from her chest.

“Little mirror, do not cry. You have such power. I can show you how it might be used in this world.” His voice drowned her in darkness, an oily well of horror. “I have been waiting so patiently for you, and you came to me, just as I had hoped you would.” She spun, hatred in her eyes.

“There is no world where I will help you. You’re a monster.”

“So are you. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can have the power you imagine.”

“I don’t want power. I never wanted it.”

“How quaint. So what is it you want, little mirror? Your mate? He’ll be dead before nightfall. You could rule this land with me. If it’s love you want, I can provide you with all of the riches you desire. Lands, servants, castles. A bed mate, even.” He looked her up and down and she shivered in disgust. “You can have it all.” She fought the urge to gag as they circled each other. “And all I need to give it all to you is your word you’ll stay with me. All of this can end, my curse can end, if you just vow to stay.”

“I would rather die. Do you truly think I would do anything that would unleash you upon Prythian? You don’t know the first thing about love or sacrifice or any of it.” She snarled, letting her fae instincts take over.

“You will die, then. You can’t beat me, and you know it. All I must do is tire you out. Aren’t you exhausted?” He taunted.

“You can’t beat me, either. I have your power.” She was bluffing; she knew it wasn’t true. She had his power, yes, but she’d been fighting for what felt like hours while he’d waited in his castle. He was undying as long as the box stayed intact, and she was not. She was exhausted, but she would buy this time for the others. She hoped they chose to flee. She drew her sword. Perhaps she’d get lucky; perhaps he would misstep.

She would fight. She would picture Tamlin in her mind and hold him close. The smell of him. The first night she slammed into his manor, his startled eyes and rumbled tunic as he took care of her injuries. The time he chased her through the halls, paint smeared over them. The nights spent getting to know each other. The long talks. She would remember his touch on her skin, their magic twining together and playing. She would think about his future, and how much she loved him.

She would fight until her body gave out for him to have a chance at that future, and she would hope that in getting that future, he would find a way to forgive her one day.

She pulled her sword back and lunged.

[niche-for-a-light]

I first drafted this ages back, but now it has been finished! Ashtani and R'runa's first meeting

He hit the ground with a grunt and a heavy thud. ‘Stupid’ was the only word he had the time to think of before he had to roll away to barely dodge the angered dryad charging him–

But he could salvage this. Somehow. He would have to, or else he’d be lucky to walk away from this on his own two feet, if at all.

Stupid.

Stupid mistakes, stupid… If he just had better equipment, maybe he could have–!

His hand gripped empty air when he tried to grip his sword tighter, and his eyes blew wide at the realization that he had let himself become unarmed. He’d dodged the dryad once, but with a bellow it was already turning around, ready for another go at him. The Au Ra scrambled to get on his feet again, and he did! He did get on his feet, until a swipe of the walking tree’s canopy knocked him right back down.

The wind was struck out of him by the double impact of leaved branches and surprisingly unforgiving forest soil and there was no air for him to groan with, just a heavy ache and a wheeze for breath. His sword he’d already lost, now his shield slipped his grasp too. This was…

This was bad.

Pretty bad!

There were probably worse ways to go than getting whammied to death by a dryad, at least on the glory scale of things—it could’ve been something dumber, too.

But he’d really rather not go at all.

Which was a fate he wasn’t going to avoid by laying on the ground… But when the dryad bent over as if to prepare to spin its entire treetop around, he knew he didn’t have the time to get out of the way, either.

He tried anyway, ignoring how much he felt like nothing but a bruise all over to roll onto his knees, but the pain was making him too slow and oh, how his friends in the Steppe would have laughed at him for being taken down so easily by a meandering tree–

He wouldn’t have the time to get out of the way, he knew that, he knew as much when the dryad feinted one way to draw speed to spin in the other with even greater force–

And never let it be said that at any point he gave up on trying, but he’d barely staggered to his feet when the hit–

Didn’t… Come?

It didn’t come?

Too slow on the uptake, the dryad’s roar of outrage registered before its cause: stone.

With the heavy clap of rock on rock, stone struck up from the ground to hit the dryad. The aftershock was enough to ruin his balance and he fell, again, but that was barely worth his attention. His eyes were rapt on the creature as it was hit a second time, then a third—followed swiftly after by a sharp gust of air that tore through its leaves, shredding its branches.

With a final dying rumble, the dryad’s motions stopped and its trunk of a body gave up under it. He had a moment to worry he was going to get crushed under its fall next, but lady luck took pity on him for once in his life, and the formerly animated tree collapsed in the other direction.

He found himself panting in the aftermath, every breath hurting his abused ribcage and the surge of adrenaline making him hear little else but the rush of his own blood. That was close. Uncomfortably close.

But who–?

Motion at the edge of his vision and hurried footsteps he could only just barely hear alerted him to the approach of what could only be conjurer, judging by the kind of magic he had just witnessed taking down the dryad. He leveraged himself up onto one elbow, just in time for a female Miqo’te to lower herself on one knee next to him.

Without the presence of mind to not stare, he stared—unalike a conjurer, her robe was entirely black with only silver detailing, and she wore a mask in the same colors to the effect that he could only see the lower portion of her face. Her mouth was set in a grim line and behind her, her tail was swishing back and forth in jerky motions. He could practically feel the air simmering around her, so great was the sheer weight behind what he could only call anger radiating off of her. Dubbing it annoyance didn’t even begin to cover it.

She felt furious.

It froze him in place like a deer caught in sudden bright lights, his eyes the only part of him moving as they followed the arch of her arm. She brought her hand up—covered in an armored glove tipped with wicked claws—and grasped her mask, pulling it off her head–

Her anger was written all over her face. Her brows were furrowed deep, her eyes practically burning amidst the black face paint she wore, but for the life of him he couldn’t tell what she was angry at. Him?

What would he have done to deserve that..?

“Well? Are you hurt?” she snapped at him, her mask discarded on the ground next to her. He was the sole recipient of the full force of her glare from that point onward, and that did nothing to help him find his words.

“I–“

“Shut it, you are,” was the growl she interrupted him with. Soothing light pooled from her hand as she reached over to him, and the contrast of her healing magic with the whole rest of her demeanor was enough to give him a whiplash. A conjurer. He’d always taken them for gentle, peaceable things, for healers interested in aiding others with their magicks.

Her? She bled violence into the air around her even as she healed his body.

He swallowed hard in the face of her broiling presence. Just the motion of his throat was apparently enough to catch her attention and her gaze snapped up to his face instantly.

He’d deny the meep he made until his dying day.

“You’re shitting welcome,” she practically spat out as her magic did its work and he could feel his pains bleed away as wounds and bruises were undone by her vicious grace.

How was he meant to react?

What was he meant to say to her? He felt like apologizing for… Inconveniencing her? For making her do what her magicks were meant for?

Was that strange?

“I– Thank you?” he landed on instead, mentally kicking himself for making it sound like a question of all things when he very, very much should be grateful, and he was! He was grateful, because without a doubt she had saved him from a very unpleasant fate. She was helping him right that very moment–

But he really did just feel like apologizing. Several times over, maybe, just to see if it’d calm her down any.

He cringed under the glower she gave him. Seeming to judge her work done—and he couldn’t disagree, he did feel hale and whole again—her hand fell away and the magic softly lighting their surroundings died away. With a huff she pushed herself up, dusting her robe off before bending to pick up her mask and placing it back on her head, hiding her ferocious eyes–

Was she leaving?

When she began to walk away, he concluded she was.

“Wait!” he called out, quickly clambering onto his feet now that nothing… Nothing hurt anymore?

Huh. She was pretty good at what she did, wasn’t she?

Right, where was he… Oh! “What’s your name?”

She paused and her head turned partially to him. For as long as she stayed silent, he almost thought she wasn’t going to answer and would just walk away despite his plea–

But just when his shoulders slumped, she spoke. “R’runa Mishca.”

A beat of silence, then, almost hesitant, she returned his question with, “What’s yours?”

He blinked in surprise before hurrying to answer lest she change her mind when it came to her curiosity and decided to just walk off anyway. “I’m Ashtani! Ashtani Dataq. It’s nice to– Thank you for your help. It’s nice to meet you.”

She stayed quiet for so long he almost thought he’d somehow offended her, and for sure she didn’t return any pleasantries back at him.

But after the silence that stretched long enough to make him fidget and feel all manner of awkward as he tried to think of something, anything to say, she did speak. Another question, no less. “What were you doing here?”

Ah, that… He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, shrugging before he answered. “My employer wanted some treant sap… I wasn’t very good at getting any.”

“You’re a retainer?” she guessed, and he nodded an affirmative. “I see.

“Well, you should be able to get some sap from that, now,” came her flippant suggestion with a gesture of her staff at the dead dryad, but he couldn’t help but get the feeling she was trying to be helpful, almost. In a less than smooth manner, maybe, but he could appreciate the gesture, no? If he wasn’t reading her intent wrong, anyway.

“Yeah, I… I should be able to. Thanks.”

“Hmph.” This time he could think of nothing to say in time to stop her when she began to walk away again, and Ashtani stood rooted in place as he watched her go. She didn’t say goodbye, didn’t look back, and he didn’t find the words to wish her well with either.

Will I see you again? he would have liked to ask if he were a braver man, but he wasn’t, so all he did was watch her go until she left his sight.

But hey, at least he was still alive—and now with one strange encounter to tell about, too.

[marydublinauthor]

Random Gt drabbles: “Manhattan”

Characters: Cliff and Oliver

Shot in the Dark Noir AU 🕵️‍♀️🔎

————————

Cliff Everett was one of Oliver’s favorite customers for several reasons. He kept his order simple - a Manhattan strong enough to wash away the day - always tipped well, and was extremely courteous to fairies. He was always tipping his hat at the groups of fairies waiting at the bar, even the performers that slipped shots of moonshine between sets. On more than one occasion, he had quietly slipped the staff enough money to cover the tab of the entire cliente for the night.

“You’re here so often, but I never see you take time for pleasure. Just this line of clients. You turn heads, but you never look back much, do you?” Oliver sipped at his drink, legs dangling from where he sat atop an overturned human glass. The Silver Pin had been closed for an hour, but he wasn’t about to remind Cliff of that fact.

The detective lifted his eyebrows, looking entertained. “You’re a regular guardian angel, Oli.”

“It’s my job to watch people,” Oliver drawled - but fuck, he was blushing. “And keep them boozed.”

Cliff toasted his nearly-empty glass towards his. “And you do a fantastic job. What about you? You seeing anyone?”

“Ah-ah. Don’t change the subject. I barely know a thing about you. You owe me something.”

They laughed, but as Cliff sat with the question, there was a palpable shift in his easy demeanor. He stared down at what remained of his drink, gaze turning dark and distant. Oliver could tell he had struck an unexpected cord, but he was too curious to double back now.

“I loved the same girl since I was ten.” Cliff told him. “She was the eldest daughter of our housekeeper, you see - smile like sugar and smart as a tack. By some miracle I got her to marry me.” He paused, finishing his drink to its last dregs. “This line of work can be ugly stuff. She saw me in the field once, dealing with vampires on the North End. She saw the blood on my hands, and never quite looked at me the same after that.”

Oliver’s mouth felt like sandpaper. “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. Her things were cleared out a few weeks after that. She left.” Cliff tilted his empty glass, giving a depreciating chuckle that didn’t quite mask the wetness in his eyes. “Could use another drink.”

Broken out of his horrified stupor, Oliver scrambled to his feet. Cliff gently pushed him back to a seated position before he could hover more than an inch.

“Hey, you’re off duty. Relax.”

The sensation of his touch lingered as oliver watched him stroll behind the counter and peruse the liquors. Cliff plucked up a few bottles and fixed himself another Manhattan like he had worked there for years.

“You’re good at that,” Oliver said.

Cliff dipped a teaspoon in and poured some into the fairy’s empty glass. Oliver sipped - nearly choking as Cliff folded his arms on the counter and lowered his face towards his. The weight of his full attention was overwhelming.

“How does it taste?”

“Strong,” Oliver coughed. “But swell. You’d make a killing here, if you ever decide to make a change.”

“With you here? I’d get nothing done.” Cliff winked. He took a long pull from his drink. Oliver chewed his lip.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry about your girl. A real shame, that.”

“S’alright.” Cliff shrugged. “Besides, I don’t feel too lonesome. Not right now.”

His gaze simmered and Oliver nearly dropped his glass. He felt utterly small as he glanced ever so subtly at those full lips.

“Are… are you going home alone?” he croaked.

Cliff smiled. “You tell me.”

[tayterbean]

You Have My Word

Loki, in all his arrogant, sarcastic glory, was your best friend. He wasn't always the best at showing it, but when it came down to it, he knew how close the two of you truly were. He knew that, no matter how hard he tried to disprove it sometimes, you would always be there for him and never had any bad intentions.

Even after the Attack on New York, you knew there was more to the story than initially met the eyes. It took a lot of convincing, but he eventually admitted that he'd been nearly forced to do it. He didn't think anyone would believe him, nor did he want to ruin his pride, so he kept quiet about it. You nearly took his head off for letting himself be condemned to life in the dungeons for something that wasn't entirely his fault. Apparently, he'd accepted his fate on that front, even though it still pissed him off tremendously.

Loki had been imprisoned for some time when the tragedy struck. When the invasion happened and the queen, his mother, one of the only people to ever treat him exceptionally and love him unconditionally, was killed. After you heard the news and got over your own momentary bubble of shock and grief, the first thing you thought about was him. How his mother was dead, and he was locked in a cell, completely alone.

You didn't ask for permission. You didn't care about permission.

You made your way to the dungeons, and you could hear the crashing and dull thudding all the way from the stairs. When you reach the set of sentries that guard the dungeon's entrance, they both silently step in your path, blocking you.

"No, let me through-"

"No visitors to the dungeon."

"I am his friend, let me through-"

"There are no visitors-"

You leaned in closer, gritting your teeth; your words are almost a growl. The sentries actually looked the slightest bit intimidated. "His mother is dead. I am his greatest friend. Give me five minutes."

The two men exchanged a wary look. One of them sighed before stepping to the side, and the other followed suit. "Five minutes. Not a moment longer."

You were already moving past them before he could finish his sentence. You rushed to Loki's cell, trying to absorb the sight in front of you as you made your way.

Loki is enraged - as you knew he would be. The anger always came first for him; the sadness would follow later. His cell was destroyed, the furniture within smashed to pieces, a few of the books shredded, glass shards from a bowl littering the floor. As you approached, though, he seemed to be on the tail end of his rage. He sent an enormous blast of magic towards a chair, practically shattering it against the cell wall, before doubling over, bending down so far he has to place a hand on the ground to steady himself.

You reached the cell and placed your hand against the barrier, as close as you could get to him. He was so absorbed into his own emotions and pain, he hadn't even noticed your arrival yet. "Loki..."

He looked up sharply, turning his head back to look at you. For the briefest of moments, he looked like a caged animal: alert, frightened, and immensely angry. Once he took in the sight of you, though, his expression quickly changed to shock, and then to sorrow.

In true Loki fashion, though, he was instantly masking the latter emotion.

He was breathless as he spoke, his breaths coming in heavy pants that engaged his entire upper body. "What? Have you come to gawk at the display? To laugh at how low I've sunken?" His voice was wavering the more he attempted to sound intimidating, and you could tell he knew that.

"You know I haven't," you said softly, shaking your head. "You know I would never."

He sensed the care in your voice, the empathy. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to submit to it, but he quickly covered it with a scowl.

"I don't need, nor want, your pity," he said slowly, having to force strength behind his words.

"It's not pity... I just wanted you to know that I care. I don't want you to feel so alone..." You almost regretted saying the words, thinking they would only amount to more perceived pity in Loki's eyes.

You were surprised when the words seemed to affect him so much that he could no longer feign malice, and he looked away. After a few stuttering breaths, he hauled himself to his feet and walked towards you. With a bit of hesitation, he first placed his hand against the glass, directly across from yours, then went a step further and leaned his forehead against it, closing his eyes. He bit his lip in an effort to keep his composure as you, also, leaned your forehead against the glass.

"I'm not leaving you alone," you muttered to him softly.

His hand on the glass clenched into a fist, but it was out of more pain than anger. His voice was barely more than a rasping whisper. "You should."

You shook your head. "No... never." Your hand curled, mimicking the gesture of wrapping around his fist, if only the barrier would allow you. "You have my word."

He tucked his lips even tighter, frowning, before his resolve cracked and he released an exhale that was very nearly a sob. He turned away from the glass, trying desperately, so desperately, not to let himself give in to the tears. He took a few collecting breaths before forcing his words out.

"Please leave..." It was a broken plea, not an angry command. "I-I cannot bear the thought of you seeing me like this..."

"Loki, you don't have to-"

"I know, I know." He spoke those words almost frantically, as if the thought of you seeing him so upset caused him panic. "Please, just... please go."

You'd never heard him say "please" so many times in his life, nor had you ever seen him so desperate.

He needed to grieve in private. You could understand that.

You swallowed before slowly beginning to walk away from the cell, heading back towards the entrance of the dungeons. Before you left the area, you paused and gave him a few parting words, hoping he would know they were true.

"You truly aren't alone - I mean that... Please do not forget it."

----------

When the night of Frigga's funeral came, you knew Odin would not be releasing Loki from the dungeons to attend.

You had a plan to fix that.

The sleeping brew wasn't particularly difficult to make, nor to get the guards to drink it. You presented yourself as a sorrowful lady who was desperate to give back to the kingdom after the death of the queen, and they simply could not deny your offer of seemingly innocent tea.

They were asleep within five minutes. You stole the master key from one of them, and made your way to Loki's cell.

When you looked around the corner, Loki was sitting on a chair, a book open between his hands. Once you continued your approach and he noticed you, his expression was initially shock, then almost as quickly faded into surrender.

He vanished the illusion without you having to speak a word.

Loki was sitting against the back wall of the cell, looking nothing short of deranged with grief: his hair was a tangled, long mess; his face was blotched from his emotions; and his eyes were red from his tears. He looked exhausted and aggrieved and was the cracked shell of a being, and in all your years, you couldn't recall anyone ever looking more pained. It goes without question that someone must have told him tonight was the night of the service.

You exhaled softly before reaching out your hand and displaying the key to him.

He looked equal parts shocked and frightened when he realized what it was.

"The guards are asleep," you spoke softly, "and they will remain that way for hours to come." You swallowed. "I'm going to do this for you, but you have to promise me... no tricks. We have to come straight back."

He sat up a bit straighter, seeming intrigued by your offer. When he realized you really were being truthful, you could see his eyes well over with tears. He inhaled a shaking breath before giving a quick nod.

"You have my word."

It was all you needed to hear. You placed the master key in the lock and turned it; the orange barriers faded away to nothing, and Loki slowly made his way to his feet.

You met him halfway and handed him a hooded cloak. "I know your magic may falter, with everything... but this should hide your appearance well enough."

It wasn't a common fact, but he'd mentioned to you a few times that his magic was harder to practice when he was saddened or anxious. You were surprised he'd even managed the illusion of himself, but knew that once he got at the ceremony, he may not be able to be so focused.

He took the cloak with a solemn nod of acknowledgment, already slipping it through his arms and over his head. You looked at him for a moment, pondering, before slowly reaching up and removing the hood. You looked at him up close, regarding him, and he sheepishly met your eyes, looking not too far from breaking down already.

"Don't leave my side," you told him in a whisper. Both to ensure he didn't try and escape on you (you didn't think he was really in the shape to do so, anyway) and for both your own comforts.

He averted his gaze from you for a moment; when he looked back, his eyes were overwhelmingly tearful and grieved. He said, in a voice even softer than yours: "Don't leave mine."

Tears became apparent in your own eyes as you nodded once. "Never."

The two of you made your way to the seafront courtyard in the midst of the chilly evening, navigating through the mourners. The only good thing about the crowd was that all of them were too absorbed in their grief to really pay attention to anyone else; it allowed the two of you to easily make your way to the seafront, where the ceremony would be held.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd attended a funeral of this scale; so grand, so regal, and so beautifully sad. The ceremony was one of anyone's dreams, and the grief of the entire realm was palpable in the nighttime air.

As you and Loki listened to the speeches, he remained by your side, still and silent, his face tilted downward so it could be concealed by the dark cloak. The two of you were never far apart enough not to be touching each other, which, most of the time, you were. He took your hand in his own more than once, angling his head even more to hide what you were sure were tears. At certain points, you leaned your head against his shoulder, nestling closer against him - in response, he would subtly place a trembling hand on your back and curl you just a bit closer to him.

Neither of you spoke a single word. Neither of you had to.

When it came time to send the lanterns, the two of you waited your turn until you were at the seafront. Once there, you each grabbed one of the lanterns, lit them, and made your way to an unpopulated, quiet area at the edge of the courtyard.

You bent down and placed your lantern onto the water, holding it steady. You murmured an Asgardian prayer, closing your eyes, before releasing the lantern and allowing it to be carried to sea, over the edge, guiding the queen safely to her final resting place of Valhalla.

Loki, who was kneeling to your left, was still holding his lantern in the water, his head angled so much that even you could not see his face.

You hesitated a moment before rising, coming to stand behind him. You squatted down slightly before reaching past his frame and placing your hand over his.

You made sure your voice was no louder than a whisper.

"Did you say your departing words?"

The cloak bobbed in a slow affirmative. You nodded in return, your grip on his hand tightening slightly.

"All right... Then together - on three."

There was a longer hesitation, but eventually Loki lowered his head even further; you took that as acceptance enough.

"All right. One... two... three."

You began to lift your hand, and after the briefest of hesitations, he did the same. You clasped your hand tightly around his as the lantern began to float away, drifting out to sea along with the thousands of others, along with the boat that held his mother's body.

He brought your attached hands in closer to him at his chest, then up further to his lips. You released his hand and moved yours to his shoulder when you realized he was using it to keep himself from sobbing aloud.

With a few murmured words of consolation, you got him to his feet before wrapping your arms around his mid-section and nestled yourself against him. His hands quickly came to encircle your waist, holding you as close as possible against him. As if you were the last, most precious thing in the world to him, and he couldn't bear to let you go.

He bowed his head nearly to his chest, and his whispered sobs broke your heart into shattered fragments. His chest heaved with each one, yet he kept them quiet, so soft only you could hear.

Only for you. Only for you would he ever be so transparent in his vulnerability.

Once he had gathered himself somewhat, you two wordlessly began the walk back to the dungeons, you keeping a subtle hand on his side the entire way. He wasn't angry or resistant - he knew it had to happen, and he knew that wasn't your fault.

The guards were still deeply asleep, so you passed back into the dungeons with ease. When you two reached Loki's cell, the two of you were still for a moment before you, once again, reached up and removed the hood from his head. His arms instantly came to wrap around himself as he refused to meet your gaze, his skin splotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and irritated.

You gazed at him before putting your hands out, palms up. He looked down at your offer, then almost instantly shut his eyes, as if the sight pained him. It seemed to take effort for him to place his hands atop yours, and something about the contact nearly broke him down to sobs once again.

"I'm going to speak with Odin," you told him adamantly. "To try and work out something different... something that isn't this." You fought back the tears in your eyes, dropping your voice to a whisper. "You have my word."

He managed to step closer to you and take you in a loose embrace before you could see too much of the emotional affect your words had. The way his breathing became shallow and stuttering told you enough.

He placed his chin on top of your head, taking a few moments to gather himself before he spoke in a quiet, nearly hoarse voice. "I will not forget this." His voice faltered slightly. "Thank you..."

You wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to be as close to him as you possibly could be. You didn't know when the next time you would get to hold him like that would be.

If there would be a next time.

----------

It was only a few days later when you saw him again - roaming the halls of the Asgardian palace with his brother, of all places.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you rounded the corner and were met with them both. They also both stopped, looking like caught animals until they realized it was only you. One look at Thor told you that Loki's unexpected freedom was his own doing.

One look at Loki told you that he was caught between feigning indifference and taking you in an unabashed embrace.

You made the decision easier for him by quirking an eyebrow, keeping your tone light.

"Look what the cat decided to drag out."

Loki's expression flooded with relief and something like admiration for a brief moment - it was then covered with his usual arrogant, sarcastic aura. "Much to your pleasure, I'm certain."

You couldn't help but to smile. "Yes... much to my pleasure."

Thor nearly rolled his eyes at the antics of you both. He gave Loki a sideways glance. "Come along, Brother... We have matters to tend to."

He began walking forward, but Loki hesitated a moment. Once Thor was ahead of you, the God of Mischief gave you a rare, sincere smile. He then stepped forward, bent down, and placed a quick, sheepish kiss to the top of your head.

"Aw, Loki-" you began, teasing him dotingly, but he interrupted in a low tone.

"Tell anyone and I shall deny everything."

You gave him a look before confidently placing a hand on the side of his face and planting a kiss on the opposite cheek. He was surprised enough by it that it flustered him, and his cheeks became tinged with pink.

"Tell anyone and I'll deny nothing," you said, smiling cheekily.

He looked at you bashfully, smirking a bit in that charming way of his. His eyes then glanced ahead, to where Thor was still making his way, before he looked back at you. "Wait for my return?"

You smiled at him warmly, knowingly.

"You have my word. Always."

[sweetbriermouse]

I am not great about self care or self maintenance. I thought I did a decent job but after buying that glowup journal it is increasingly clear I am not. I mistook them for being synonymous acts for years. I hate that. I hate that growing up I didn't know the difference or importance. I hate that growing up basic hygiene and indulging in 30 minutes of me time or wearing an outfit that was insanely hideous was taught to be self care/maintenance. I hate that it took 23 years of life to learn they were different.

I started learning better self care, better habits, better health through a fucking guided journal. I was so proud of myself for always improving but I feel dense and arrogant now. I was growing as a person sure, but in a jagged, make a mistake and learn from it way. Not a glaring effort to be my best self to stay connected and aware way.

I used to do face masks once a week as self care in 2019 and thought that was amazing! Now I am getting into an entire skincare routine because my guided journal had an insane double column list dedicated to skin, hair, glamor, nails, and more.

As an AFAB person i grew up with the usual shave everything, look feminine, be skinny, dress nicely shit in my face but never how to care for myself or prevent the damage it causes. I learned how to shave from a girl that was only a few months older than me when we were 8 and I showered at her house. She was astounded that I didn't know by that age and when I told my mom she was upset because I didn't have leg hair to shave yet and shouldn't be exposed to it so young. Didn't even check if I was taught safely though. When I was 12 I remember watching and questioning when a friend shaved her arms because it was so blonde you'd have to be insanely close to see it and I became ridiculously self conscious but I always had razor burn and bumps from cutting myself on accident so I didn't dare shave the dark brown arm hair I was so ashamed of. I didn't know I was supposed to do better than just a wet razor after washing myself. I learned to use shaving gel when I was 14 but I still didn't moisturize or exfoliate or anything else so I still had bumps and scabs and razor burn. I learned the rest when I was 22.

Makeup was pushed on me so young but the only skincare I knew was wiping off with a hot towel. Makeup remover, hot towel, that's it. I was 19 when I learned to use face masks regularly. I was 21 when I learned the importance of moisturizing and building a skincare routine that works for you. I was 23 when I learned how to actual build a skin care routine that works. I am still developing one that works because it is very trial and error from what I've learned and I've no better way currently.

I was 23 when I learned self care is done to help yourself. Something to improve your mental and emotional health and give yourself a bit of attention and TLC. Self maintenance is things done to keep your appearance, your physical self, where you want it to be. Like waxing, shaving, exfoliating, doing hair and face masks and regular skincare.

I know there are others like this because I had a friend who didn't know how to care for her own hair type until a few months ago! It just infuriates me that I am only learning a lot of this shit at 23 years old when I've been struggling with the consequences of not doing any of it for over a decade!

[screamingay]

baltimore goats show had the most banger setlist ohh my god going to queens damn these vampires first few desperate hours prowl great cain HE SANG SOLIDARITY FOREVER!!!!! not to mention the new album like fr mark on you and make you suffer were SO good and closing the QUADRUPLE ENCORE with training montage was so so so fun i mean it closed with either that or no children i dont rember rn anyway point is favorite band go brrrrrr lol OH and the opener was great listen to lightning bug

[certifiedskywalker]

Trouble Doubled - Bucky Barnes

Even after everything, you’re still the person who Bucky Barnes runs to when things go bad. Only now, he brings Sam who fails to hide his grin when he sees how James melts under your touch.

WARNINGS: Blood, stitches, and TFATWS possible spoilers (I think I was vague enough)

“Ouch! That’s going to hurt in the morning!”

“Ha, it hurts now, actually,” Sam grumbled. 

You pressed your lips together to stifle the grin that threatened to spill over them. Unable to help yourself, you glanced at Bucky in the hopes he too was biting back a grin. Stood by the door, slightly shrouded in shadow, you could make out the half smile that played on his lips. Though, his expression quickly melted into a grimace as Sam groaned. Reality quickly crashed back down on your shoulders and you turned back to the man laid on the table.

“You’re not going to like this.” Before Sam could ask what ‘this’ was, you began to palpate his wound. He flinched away from your reach at first, but then settled in the discomfort.

“Mm, yeah, no, that doesn’t feel good, Doc.”

“Not a doctor,” you said, still pressing lightly into the bruised flesh. “And I have to make sure you didn’t crack a rib. Otherwise, you’ll need a doctor.”

“Gotta work on your bedside manner,” Sam said as he winced. You pulled your hands away with a sigh and he met your eyes. “Bad?”

“In the grand scheme of things, no. Just try not to throw yourself off a building for the next few days. Think you guys can manage that?”

“Maybe. Harder to fly without jumping first.” Sam groaned once more as he sat up and the pain seemed to convince him to heed your warning. “We’ll try, Doc.”

You rolled your eyes at him before turning to look at Bucky. Still tucked in the darker corner of the room, he seemed small. His brows were knitted tightly together by worry and you imagined that, if he met your gaze, you would see concern in his eyes. Pushed forward by your own worry, you strode over to him. At your growing closeness, Bucky lifted his eyes to yours.

“Your turn.”

“I’m fine, Y/N.”

Despite his protest, Bucky did not lock himself in place. Instead, he gave in and let you lead him by the arm, over to the table. Sam eyed him with a wide grin as Bucky landed in the same spot he had sat in only moments ago. He mouthed something to the century-old soldier that you caught, but could not make out.

“What happened to taking it easy? You told me after, you know, that you would ease into things.” You gestured to the rags you had used to clean Sam’s more minor wounds; the fabric pieces were now dyed a reddish pink from blood. “That doesn’t seem like easing into it.”

“You didn’t see the other guy,” Sam quipped. 

“I like to think you didn’t leave any of him left,” you fired back as you pinched Bucky’s chin between your forefinger and thumb. “Look at me.”

Bucky did as you told him to and met your gaze. You took a sharp breath in at the sight of him, at how his pupils blew out slightly as you studied his reaction. All at once, the air around you grew thick. This close, you could smell the sweat and ash on his skin, along with hints of whatever air freshener he had in his apartment. 

Was it coconut? Sandalwood? You couldn’t parse out which as you found yourself lost in the blues of Bucky’s eyes. The sound of Sam clearing his throat shook you from your haze.

“No signs of a concussion.”

“Really?” Sam asked, grin still plastered on his face. You raised a brow at him in question before you turned back to Bucky. 

“Why? Did you hit your head?”

“No,” he said, clearly tired of Sam’s commentary, “but if I did, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Super soldier or not, a head wound is a head wound. Can you?” You gestured to his jacket and, with a sigh, Bucky pulled it off his shoulders.

“How do you two know each other again?” Sam asked, glancing around the room. “And why are we in an abandoned building.”

“Hard to trace us back here. Didn’t want to lead them to Y/N’s place,” Bucky said, tossing his jacket to the side. He winced as he did, and then you saw the blood.

“Barnes!" 

With reaching hands, you peeled back the crimson-soaked material of his shirt. Your movement revealed a long gash along his side that, with each breath, sent dribbles of blood to his hip. Sam made a sound of surprise and mild disgust at the sight. You were inclined to agree with another shout, but you were too caught up in how to stop the bleeding.

“Lay back,” you ordered, pressing Bucky’s shoulder. He yielded and you pushed his shirt up to expose the entire length of the wound. “Why didn't you show this to me earlier?!”

“It’s not that bad.”

"You're bleeding," you huffed, "which is pretty indicative of bad, if you ask me. Sam?"

"This is not my battle,” he raised his hands and shook his head. “I know better than to intrude on a lover’s quarrel.”

Neither you nor Bucky spoke up to correct him. In your mind, you came up with a quick excuse: Bucky was bleeding and you needed to focus on stopping it. Sam’s comment could be corrected later. Though, when Bucky didn’t speak up, you felt your chest tighten. As you worked on dressing the gash, you glanced up at him and found his blue eyes trained on you. He was dwelling on your silence too.

You pulled yourself out of the whirlpool of his gaze and reached over his body towards your medical supplies. As you stretched, your chest pressed lightly against Bucky’s, but you swallowed hard and refocused.

“Sorry, need to sow you up.”

Bucky didn’t respond, but he did avert his gaze. He found some spot in the ceiling to stare at instead of you. His distraction allowed you to work without the prickling temptation to sneak glances at his features; for the most part. It was only when Sam moved to stand over at your side you did you look up from Bucky’s wound.

“What?”

“Nothing, just wondering how many times you’ve done this before.” 

A bitter laugh slipped past your lips at his reply. “Too many times to count. If it’s not an Avenger, it’s a masked savior from Hell’s Kitchen. Someone always needs stitched up.”

“But James here is your favorite patient?”

“Sam.” 

Bucky’s tone set you on edge. It was warning, cold, and unlike the teasing you had grown fond of. Sam, knowing better than to piss him off, backed away from the table. You looked from him to Bucky and back again. When Bucky did not dare to meet your gaze, you felt a lump form in your throat. Tension weighed down your tongue, stopped you from saying a word or asking a question, despite your want to. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you be, old man. I’ll check with Torres, see if he has anything.”

Bucky’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling above you. He was quiet, like the first time you met, and distant. His gaze seemed far away, as if he were looking through the ceiling of this hideaway. After you heard the door of the room close behind Sam, you went back to work on Bucky’s side in silence. 

Carefully, you sowed the gash and tried to keep your hands steady. Every other jab with the needle made Bucky wince. You flinched at his sharp intake of breath and mumbled an apology before you went on to the next stitch. Five apologies later, the bleeding slowed and you gently pressed a crisp, white bandage to safeguard your handiwork. 

Immediately after you secured the gauze, Bucky moved to sit up. Before he could, you pressed on his shoulders again and pinned him in place. Though, you knew you couldn’t have pinned him if he hadn’t let you. Your upper body strength was nothing compared to his, you both knew that.

“Don’t move,” you said softly, “you’ll ruin my work.”

“It’s gonna be hard not to.” Bucky met your gaze and, in the dim light of the room, his eyes looked dark, almost sad. Something in his face, perhaps the dull, yet familiar laughter lines around his mouth or the bags under his eyes, alleviated the tension that had silenced before.

“You told me you wouldn’t. That you would take it easy and focus on making amends.”

Bucky closed his eyes at the disappoint that laced your tone. “I tried. I wanted to, Hell, I need to, but I can’t. I never could.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky began to sit up from the table top, “I’m a soldier. I need the fight.”

You watched as he moved, as your hands slipped from his shoulders and fell back to your sides. He pulled his shirt down over his freshly bandaged wound. When he was covered, Bucky looked back up to you, saw your frown and frowned too.

“Soldiers get to come home,” you pointed out, arms crossed over your chest.

“If they’re lucky. I’ve never been lucky.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at that. He was right. Bucky told you his story once before, after a therapy session left him feeling a bit more dry than high. He told you that he couldn’t tell you everything, that he wouldn’t. He didn’t have to, but you still hoped for him.

“Luck can change.”

Bucky scoffed as he pushed himself to his feet. Now, at his full height, he towered slightly over you. Despite his looming figure, Bucky did not scare you. Even when he told you his story, what he had done, Bucky did not scare you. 

“Yeah, well, luck, or fate, or whatever, brought me to you and here we are,” he gestured to the dusty dwelling around you. You looked around with a careful eye before you playfully shrugged. 

“I’ve been in worse dives.” Bucky chuckled, a unforced sound that rose up from his chest against his will. “Really, I have.”

“I don’t doubt it. But we put you in danger, asking for your help here. I put you in danger.”

“Oh, are you serious?” You threw your hands up in the air, “there’s always going to be danger in this world. Aliens, war, bad luck.”

“I wanted to keep you safe,” he pressed, taking a step towards you. 

You could smell the perfume of the air freshener again, how it clung to his clothes. It distracted you, threw you into thoughts of what his apartment looked like, if he would ever share that part of him with you or if he would keep it locked away with his full story. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from asking, from wasting your breath on a question he wouldn’t answer. His words would have to be enough for you and, as if on cue, Bucky echoed his sentiment. 

“I wanted to keep you safe.”

“How noble, wanting to keep me safe, Barnes. Just me?” 

Silence was your immediate answer. Silence and Bucky’s full attention. You didn’t miss how his eyes flickered down from yours to your lips then back again.

“Just you.”

In the quiet that followed Bucky’s statement, you became frighteningly aware of your heartbeat again. It wasn’t pounding like before, but it felt loud, like it was pressing against your ribcage, begging to leap out and into Bucky’s arms. As if propelled by it, you found yourself leaning in towards his warmth just as he seemed to shrink away.

Before he was out of reach, you lifted your hands to his face and cupped his jaw. Stubble prickled your fingers and palm, though you were far too enraptured to care.

“Then stay alive,” you said softly, “change your luck and come home.”

In your mind, you did not picture Bucky’s home as his mystery apartment. Instead, you saw only this moment captured by some invisible third party. You saw home as just the two of you and the image made you heart beat a bit faster. 

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” 

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, stewed in the new, easier tension between you. But then your resolve broke and you lips broke into a smile. Bucky mirrored your expression, a lopsided grin resting comfortably along his features. His eyes fell to the floor between you before he looked back into your face.

“Can...can I kiss y-”

“Yes, Barnes, please.”

Without wasting another second, Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. Your hands slipped from his jaw to the back of his head where your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his brown hair. One of his hands found your waist and pulled you close to him, while the other cupped your jaw. In sync, his mouth moved against yours and everything around you melted away.

No more wonderings or mystery. It was only you and Bucky, come danger, trouble, or bad luck; and Sam who lingered outside the door.

[anxiouspotatorants]

It is time. It is finally time for the new Suicide Squad rant (and spoilers will be plentiful):

As someone who was into DC Comics and comics in the mid to late 2010s and had so much hype for the first Suicide Squad movie only to be let down, I was so nervous for this one. I knew it was going to be a roller coaster, but whether I would come out happy or disappointed was up in the air. Having just seen it I will say this: I have no idea if this was a good movie-movie. It was insane. The comedy. The violence. The high emotion. I’m still trying to take it all in. But one thing I do know is that this is an amazing Suicide Squad movie. Gunn and co took the best parts of the comic concept and went batshit with it and that is how this property should be handled (in my opinion). Screw edgelordisms, we need full on insanity free of aiming for shock-value or sexy brutality we want chaos baby.

Starting the whole movie as they did, with Savant as the POV for a mission (or part of the mission) that just goes to hell immediately and kills off so many before the title arrives is the perfect way to start this movie. Like the second I realized this was how they were doing it I was just smiling from ear to ear, this is the spirit of the property.

Part of me wishes we got more Amanda Waller, but what we had was impeccable. Then again, this is Viola Davis we’re talking about, and if she was born to play any character in a superhero story, it is Amanda Waller.

And points to her tech team, introducing them with the death bets was just a lovely way to show how regular this is and how awful everyone is in this movie.

I’m not going to pretend like Deadshot and Bloodsport didn’t have the exact same character- and plot premises… but I will say that Bloodsport felt better executed.

I love that they kept some of the past members and not just Harley. Rick Flag got to have a full personality and interactions with his team members and to be a true leader and it made me so happy for someone who initially did not give a single shit about his character. The Harley friendship? The Dubois friendship? The friendship with that guerilla leader? Amazing. The one American soldier in fictional media I genuinely like. You go Mr Flag.

The new members were… they were insane in the best way. Gone are the shitty stereotypes and present are some of the wackiest creations to ever grace the mainstream movie-sphere (aka the slightly less normal comic creations): A man who has to shoot out polka dots two times a day so as not to die from a space virus. A giant child murdering weasel. A guy who detaches his limbs and slaps people with said detached limbs. King Shark. The second person to command rats with a fancy gadget. They are all crazy and all weird and all more or less morally repulsive people and I love them.

The amount of times I did a double take over the soundtrack I swear. Jessie Reyez? The Pixies? It was so much fun to pick up on once I did.

Was the depiction of a vague Latin American country stereotypical? Yes. Was the secret American involvement predictable and felt mildly patronizing from a non-American, part Latina point of view? Yep. But damn it if I didn’t have a good time with those stereotypes and laugh my ass off at how well executed some were. I don’t know if it was meant as parody, but that one secretary has me thinking so — and if so I am pleased.

Speaking of Latino dictators Harley’s one day romance with one of the villains was something I never knew I needed. Like it was so perfect for Harley that when it happened I almost hit myself for not realizing that this kind of plot should be a normal thing for Harley. And the end of it? Perfect not only in this standalone movie, but also in conjunction with the first and with BoP.

The Taika Waititi cameo??? Oh my god??? I did not expect that and I love it?? Sir, What We Do in the Shadows is impeccable.

Rick Flag’s death actually surprised me. It shouldn’t as this is Suicide Squad, but I kind of expected him to be on Harley’s level of unkillable (because let’s face it, no one kills Harley). What I will say is that his death was good and his final words and actions made me love him all the more. I hope this spawns more Rick Flag content, or at least inspires me to look at what already exists, if he already is as this movie made him (it’s been ages since I read one of the Suicide Squad reboot comics okay).

Starro. How can a villain be so wacky and so terrifying at the same time? I did not expect a literal alien starfish to have more terrifying powers and a more tragic plot execution than Enchantress. But here we are. And that damn star just wanted to be floating in space, and instead it was stuck getting revenge by killing and puppeteering human corpses. Wow that thing was creepier the more you think about it.

I don’t know what I think about Polka Dot Man. I loved watching him on screen but also damn those mommy-issues were on a new level. Not just in his backstory but how he literally sees her in every person around him that was insane. Very funny but like also the kind that makes you laugh just because you’re uncomfortable and don’t know how else to releive the tension.

When Waller got knocked out by a staff member I immediately thought «oh my god Amanda Waller is going to kill half the staff for this», so I’m mildly surprised and disappointed that I didn’t get to see that happen. But also I should maybe expect something like this in a potential future Suicide Squad movie. We can’t have everything in a movie as packed as this.

Peacemaker was very horrible and worked really well. Don’t really have much to say about him, not because I didn’t enjoy him but because I already feel like the film itself has said it for me. But the planting and payoff for his death? Chef’s. Kiss.

Harley’s wardrobe was beautiful. Ratcatcher 2’s combat outfit felt like a steampunk plague dream. Bloodsport’s mask was supercool. Rick Flag’s t-shirt was amazing. But the best little outfit was the Mafalda-keychain and her red dress, hands down. Oh and King Shark’s fake moustache finger moment.

King Shark is shaped like a friend I don’t care how many people he ate alive on screen he looks so huggable. It feels like wanting to pet a bear. You know it will kill you but damn it look at those paws and those cute eyes!

I really need to give it to not just James Gunn but the entire production team for this movie. The aesthetic was perfect. The story was the right blend of whimsical and violent. The finished product was a literal rollercoaster and I mean that in a good way. If superhero movies have to be like amusement parks, I hope they’re more like this one and BoP.

I’ll finish on the note that while I think this movie was great and hopefully a step in the right direction for the DCU/DCEU (as in stop trying to play Marvel’s game and just do your own thing/ let your creative teams run wild and free), it is not the first step. Cathy Yan, Birds of Prey and the production team for it took a step first, and they deserve due credit and attention. If you loved this Suicide Squad movie and haven’t watched BoP yet, do so. Because they really are in the same ballpark while doing things in slightly different ways. And any good DCEU movie deserves more attention so the studios know that creativity and risks should be rewarded. I want more DC movies like this, not necessarily in genre but in creative risks. I want a Black Canary rock movie. I want Alfred in a reverse heist movie alone in the batcave against Gotham villains. I want Gotham Academy on screen play by play from the comics. I want a fully animated psychedelic-like Khalid Nassour as Dr. Fate movie. I want elevated horror movie Constantine. I want weird ass Lois Lane journalist movies with a heavy side of Superman. And I want DC movies I didn’t even know I wanted.

Support creativity in mainstream comic movies. Help me become a DC fan and happy about it again.

[leafs-lover]

how about 78 with Kevin Hayes? 😊🥺

Dad!Kevin taken from this prompt list

Coming home you feel relaxed and rejuvenated. The start of the season, like always, was chaotic. Trey, having turned 2 a few months ago, had been struggling to adjust to daddy being gone after three months glued to his hip.

The entire off-season Kevin had a shadow. A 2’6” shadow with curly red hair and sky blue eyes, outlined by a grey ring. Besides the physical attributes your son took, he would skip alongside Kevin, constantly grasping his hand, never letting him out of his sight. The only time you could manage so much as a hug from your husband was when your toddler was sleeping, because if Trey so much as caught you looking towards Kevin he would do anything to grab his attention. Bringing him toys, dragging him to a different room, climbing into his lap. Anything he could do to capture his attention all whilst shooting you a devilish grin knowing he won.

At first the time apart was short lived and easy to manage, a few hours for practices or at the gym, the preseason media events the team scheduled, but the first road game was mayhem, and that wasn't even an overnight trip. Kevin left shortly after breakfast, was gone for under twelve hours and home by the time your son woke up the next day. Even still, Trey let it be very known he was upset by Kevin's extended absence and seeing him on TV did nothing to calm him.

As the trips got longer his tantrums grew worse. Kicking, screaming, refusing to eat, throwing toys, it didn't stop. That's why today, with his first off day, Kevin booked you a you day. A hair cut followed with a massage and a facial. At first it seemed excessive, and a long time away from your husband during a rare off day, but he insisted, saying you deserved a day to recharge. And he couldn't have been more right.

Stepping in the front door, toys litter the floor. Blocks and books, even a few ministicks, evidence of the time your boys had together. Kicking off your boots and hanging your purse you step into the living room, the explosion of toys only expanding.

The house is relatively quiet, no TV playing children's programing, no giggles or plastic being bashed off your wood floors. Noting the time it isn't all that shocking, Trey’s naptime began over forty minutes ago.

What you didn't expect was pots and pans on the counter, your pantry to be emptied, every bottom cupboard bare, belongings scattering the floor and island.

"Kev," you call out, a hint of panic in your tone. "Kev honey, you okay?"

Continuing on your search, you plan on checking Trey’s room, but stop at the office near the bottom of the stairs. Through the frosted glass doors you see a silhouette, opening them you find Kevin muttering under his breath as he paces, terror in his eyes.

"Kev?"

Stopping dead in his tracks his eyes find you, his normally grey-blue eyes are hollow and full of dread. "Hey babe, what's going on?" Keeping your voice as soft as possible, trying to mask the worry your husband is bestowing on you.

"I lost our baby," His eyes are wide, full of fear from his admission.

"What?" You laugh because what other reaction can you have to this ridiculousness.

"We were playing hide and seek, and I...I lost him." Running his hands through his hair he starts pacing once again. "I checked all the usual places, behind curtains, under tables, the coat closet, even did the whole ‘where's Trey’ bit that usually is followed by his giggling, but there was nothing. I double checked everywhere, all the doors are still locked, the Ring doorbell didn't catch any movements so he's in the house, but I have no idea where he is. YN, I lost our baby."

Fighting the smile that hits your face you walk over and grasp his large hands in yours. With a firm squeeze you say, "he isn't lost, he probably fell asleep. But let's go find him."

Stopping in the mudroom and formal living room, two places Trey doesn't really spend time in, you come up empty. Tugging on his hands you drag him up the stairs and down the hall, ignoring the protests from your husband who knows Trey tends to keep his locations to the main floor. Opening your bedroom door you head straight for the closet. Bending your knees, feeling the carpet rub against your skin, you move some of his suits, revealing your toddler. Sprawled on the floor, wearing a dinosaur t-shirt with some orange Cheezy fingerprints smeared on his stomach, using a fallen jacket as a pillow while he peacefully sleeps.

Kevin releases a sigh of relief and immediately bends down to cradle him against his chest. "How'd you know?"

"When I was getting ready a few weeks ago he followed me in and saw one of your ties. He wrapped it around his neck and said he was you. I've found him in here a few times since then. Since he wasn't downstairs I figured this was a good place to start."

Placing a kiss to your forehead he laughs for what's probably the first time in hours, "thank you for finding our baby."

“Anytime,” you laugh in response, a wide grin on your face.

[liviyuurr]

Cᴏᴏʟ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ !!

SUMMARY : Part time jobs the genshin men would have at a summer resort

CHARACTERS 𖧷 : childe, diluc, itto and venti ( in order )

WARNINGS ⚠︎ : none !!

NOTES : idk what happened but i was on spotify and cool for the summer started playing then BOOM I thought of this THIS IS SO DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I USUALLY POST HELP 😭 it's also like half 11 rn so my brains running on auto

CHILDE - surfing instructor

a show off

such a fucking show off

good-looking and talented = more people = more attention = more money

^ his employers thought process

on his first day he comes back with about 50 different numbers

job well done ig???

he's never short of customers bc there's always a crowd of people spectating him as he's working

DOES SO MANY TRICKS IT'S OUTRAGEOUS

wanna see a bottom turn? done. a roundhouse cutback? no problem. an air 360? easy peasy.

this man has no chill

pls whatever you do do not challenge him to any sort of match

he does stunt after stunt after stunt

does not let you catch a breath

in all honesty, he does his job perfectly despite all the attention he gets

DILUC - waiter

don't even speak to me

he looks so attractive stop it

polite + good looking what more could an employer ask for

if someone gives him their number he reasonably says it isn't professional and gives it STRAIGHT back

rejection doesn't even feel bad bc he does it in the most polite and unfazed way possible so it doesn't even feel like a rejection

does his job FLAWLESSLY

best decision his employer has ever made

don't cause a seen though bc he doesn't hesitate to throw problematic people out of the restaurant

if anything's wrong with the food let him know and he gets it fixed no problem

FORGETS WHEN HIS SHIFT ENDS

ITTO - the restaurant's mascot

this is not a joke

the restaurant's mascot is a chick, so he walks around in a chick costume for just over 3hrs a day

he honestly loves the costume

loud, energetic and friendly

perfect for the role fr

loads of kids want pictures taken with him

one mega hot day he took his mask/hat off and someone must have taken a pic or sumth bc the next day there were double the usual customers

this idiot doesn't understand where the sudden attention came from

he loves being social so he likes it either way

he kinda doubles up as a security guard bc he stops and talks to anyone he deems "suspicious" before they enter the restaurant

OVER THE MOON BC HE FEELS LIKE HES HELPING

VENTI - beach DJ

his employer was so hesitant to employ him

once he actually started working his employer wanted his job to be permanent

bc of his friendly nature he was so good with people

surprisingly he could manage no matter how many songs were requested

UNTIL HE GOT DRUNK

he was even better when drunk

he got the entire crowd doing the macarena

EVERYONE WAS SO HYPED BUT IT WAS SO OUT OF CONTROL

security had to be introduced to make sure no one got hurt

his employer made an event known as "funky friday" so that venti could let loose and down a couple bottles of wine

people try to sneakily give him their numbers but he just gives it back with a wink

it leaves the person dumbfounded for long enough so he can run off