#just drop them in there and them to go apeshit

[doloneia]

good morning i come to you all with a successor to this. also entirely vibes based

[vexwerewolf]

Should I read homestuck

tl;dr: no

actual answer: yes, but with some extremely important caveats.

Firstly, because Adobe shitcanned Flash, you can now no longer experience Homestuck in the form it was intended upon release... unless you download the Unofficial Homestuck Collection. This act of unbelievable, nay, saintly generosity by Homestuck's most dedicated fans allows you to experience Homestuck as it was intended - as close as is humanly possible.

"As close as is humanly possible" is the key phrase here. One indelible part of the original Homestuck experience was UPDATE! Homestuck would sometimes go weeks or even months (and later, years) between updates. I wasn't on Tumblr back in the day, but at the peak of Homestuck, even if you knew nothing else about it, you'd know when an update dropped because Tumblr's net traffic would increase something like three to fourfold. People would go apeshit bananas about whatever new revelations the Huss would drop on us.

You also need to realise that Homestuck is a product of its time and while its takes on sexuality and gender identity was pretty progressive (for its time), Huss did use the r-slur a bunch.

While we're on the subject of the author, Andrew Hussie (of whom my current understanding is that they have not changed name but go by they/them nowadays) is, in the most diplomatic possible terms, a very unique person. They are, at times, a visionary storyteller with genuinely fascinating ideas. At other times, they come off as kinda spiteful towards their readers.

Without meaning to dip into spoilers, some story beats seem (in my opinion) almost intentionally calculated to upset, irritate or mock certain fans. It never rises to the sheer vicious contempt that Steven Moffat had towards Sherlock's fanbase, but it does leave a bad taste in my mouth whenever I go back.

Additionally, and this is where a sort of birds-eye-view spoiler is unavoidable, the story suffers from the Game of Thrones pitfall of repeatedly increasing its own complexity by adding new plot threads without resolving existing ones, eventually leading to fatigue on the part of both the reader and the author. The arcs of a lot of characters just straight up get abandoned, while a couple of characters take an unnecessarily large amount of screen time.

There's one character in particular that the author openly states within the narrative (the author exists within the world of the story. It's... a whole thing) that they favour, and whose behaviour the story is warped to accommodate. You'll know exactly who I'm talking about almost the moment they show up.

Another reason I say that it's not really possible to read Homestuck as it was originally intended is because a lot of the shit that happens in it fits into the zeitgeist of the internet at the time any individual update was written. There's a whole section in the late middle third that is inextricably and very specifically tied to how it was like to use Tumblr in 2012.

Additionally, a lot of things have soured with time. There was the whole Hiveswap debacle (it was first announced in 2012. We got the first act in 2017. We got the second act in 2020. We do not even know if the third act will ever come out.). There were the legal threats. There were the Epilogues and Homestuck 2, which were... how do I put this? Not universally liked. There's been nearly a decade of discourse since Homestuck ended, and a lot of things haven't grown better with age.

All of that being said.

You should read it.

I cannot express to you just how big an impact Homestuck has had on internet culture. Even people who claim to hate Homestuck unconsciously use slang that it invented. Its unique ideas on storytelling, character design and narrative chronology have, in both subtle and unsubtle ways, changed the way millennials and Gen Z tell stories.

A lot of people were inspired to tell stories because of Homestuck - one example I always give to Lancer players is that Kill Six Billion Demons started as a comic on the MSPA forums (before it was homestuck.com, it was MS Paint Adventures), so Homestuck is in an indirect but demonstrable way responsible for the existence of Lancer. The sunglasses that Gideon Nav from the Locked Tomb wears have been explicitly stated by Tamsyn Muir to be Dave Strider's. Toby Fox made music for Homestuck, and worked on large parts of Undertale while living in Andrew Hussie's basement.

We also know someone in the Bluey creative team is a Homestuck, because...

There are subtle but direct references in Bojack Horseman, Hazbin Hotel, Steven Universe, Adventure Time - and those are just the ones that it's easy to prove! In a more general sense, I think there's a lot of cartoon series, movies, games, etc. that would either be very different or wouldn't exist if Homestuck hadn't happened.

It's certainly influenced my work.

I think, being very cautious to manage your expectations, that you should read Homestuck. At the very least, a lot of things people say on Tumblr will start to make, if not sense, a different kind of nonsense.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Clockwork sees how stressed Danny is from trying to be the goodest boy and never do anything remotely bad that could turn him evil and thinks he may have overdone it. At this rate his panic over never doing anything evil is going to force him to emotionally burn out and stop caring. Then he'll turn evil anyway.

So Clocky does something that sounds completely ridiculous in theory. He scoops Danny up and drops him into a universe full of superheros and villains and tells him to "Do whatever you want. There will be no consequences for you." Then he leaves.

And just like that, Danny goes apeshit. He decides to do the one thing he always wanted to do but was too afraid to because he didn't want to be judged, or worse, forced to join his parents.

He becomes a supervillian. Not as Phantom, no. But as Fenton! He goes full super genius mad scientist and terrorizes whatever city he's in. The local superhero is being driven insane as Danny builds death rays, shrink rays, his own modified version of the GAV, ect.

The best part if that the local heros can never catch him for long and when he is caught he always escapes before he is transported to whatever facility they wanted him in. He always ends up back in his home dimension where he goes back to acting normal and no one from either human dimension or the Infinite Realms knows what he's up to (except the stop watch of course)

After a particularly fun day in which Danny highjacks all broadcasting services to teach everyone in the world how to make insulin at home so you didn't have to pay a ridiculous amount for necessary medication, the Justice League was now on his tail.

Danny just laughs, thinking there's no way they'd ever be able to arrest him. Little does he know some guy calling himself Batman is leading the mission and he has no intention of arresting him. Danny, much to his horror, becomes far to familiar with adoption papers. As in he keeps having to set them on fire.

[glucosegaurdian]

While I’m down the Koby rabbit hole, I figured I’d post some sketches I’ve done of him from @okiedoketm’s KANGVCD fic where he joins the Strawhats!

One of my two favorite Koby fics and I’ve been working on and hoarding these for a couple months now :)

He makes me so happy, he’s trying so hard to make sure the timeline ends up okay, but to any outside point of view he’s just a psychotic teenager who will visibly give up on manners midway through a day and go apeshit.

He’s got the manners, but no one knows the exact minute he’ll drop them for the day and beat someone’s ass. It has happened on multiple occasions and Nami lives in fear for her wallet and paying for collateral.

[seat-safety-switch]

Ah, morning. Hot coffee in my favourite mug, a sun-dappled veranda on the balcony of my rural French palace, and a quick peek at the newspaper to see how my favourite NASCAR driver, Rusty "Piss" Trickle, placed last night. Now, just to take a big sip of scalding hot Blue Mountain before I read the results...

No, of course you know what I know. Rusty didn't podium. Hell, he didn't even place. He got, once again, ejected from the venue for trying to crush a full can of beer with his helmet-mounted GoPro at 180 miles an hour on the roval. Before the race had even started.

His utter collapse in the face of competition doesn't impact my life materially, although tens of thousands of motorsports fans across the world peg their emotional states to the success or failure of their favourite racists. And you can see why. In early childhood, we all want to have heroes. Originally, they're characters of fiction, or idealized representations of actual jobs. Firefighter. Paramedic. Home Depot guy who unlocks the saw when your mom needs to rip some planks.

This is innate to the human experience. We see folks doing exemplary things, helping their communities, getting glory, and we want to do that too. Maybe we start adopting some of their mannerisms. For a few weeks as a nine-year-old, I kept harassing my parents with the catchphrase of my favourite television star, the 1989 Lincoln Mark VII LSC. I can quote it now, to this day: "vroom."

As we age, those heroes often become specific people. We become invested in them, in an unhealthy parasocial way. For instance, I once sent Rusty ten dollars in Streamer Superchat® because he posted a livestream of himself driving across a cornfield in a stolen MG Midget. Ten dollars. I don't even give my actual human friends gas money for transporting my ungrateful ass across the country when I drop a cylinder liner. So you can see how folks go absolutely apeshit when their favourite football team scores an insufficient amount of touchdowns, or a hockey squad fails to behead the referee in time to prevent a power play.

Is there a cure for this sort of unhealthy fixation? Probably not. Becoming disillusioned with your heroes, or ruining your entire day because a bunch of millionaires failed to win a competition, is natural. Maybe it's best that we target folks far away from our communities, because the guy at Home Depot who works the saw gets real nervous when I carry a giant foam finger into the place and cheer on his rough cuts. And that creates a really dangerous situation, even if it makes it much more exciting.

[vrystalius]

GENERAL HC: demons usually have nests, not traditional like straw and fur nests but little tucked away areas they tend to guard.

Muzan and Kokushibo’s nests are in the infinity castle

Douma’s nest is very comfortable. Very demure. (He tears up pillows and goes apeshit. And then makes his cult members clean up and make a larger pillow for him. Because beds are for basic bitches)

Akaza probably has his nest in the infinity castle too, but he’s a bit more secretive, and prob has somewhere else

Gyutaro has his nest in the red district, (it’s filled with bones and all trinkets he likes.)

(Hantengu + clones bc I LOVE THEM) they probably have a nest in the infinity castle since he and his clones need separate areas to keep them from strangling each other… but JANEHWJ

Urogi has a more traditionally bird nest (he steals shit and makes it into his BED)

Sekido just has a bed. Shames everyone else for having a messy nest

Karaku’s nest is very soft. DO NOT BELIEVE HIM THERES SOME FREAKY SHIT IN TYERE- I know he told me :3

Aizetsu’s nest is a few rocks. He feels he doesn’t deserve a proper nest. (Get him some damn pillows. It’s causing back pain for everyone)

ENMU MY LOVE, his nest is inside the train station, idk the word but it’s where all the trains go when not in use, it’s very comfy! No sunlight, he probably uses train lights to illuminate for his human mate

TURNING HC’S (TW HUMAN EATING MENTION)

Muzan isn’t used to being gentle, and seeing his former human mate in such pain to become a demon like him. He has all his servants tend to them; Kokushibo at the door guarding, Douma out going to get nesting supplies for the newly formed demon liege, Akaza getting human meat for them. Fun stuff! 🤩 he throws a massive festival for his new demon spouse. (It’s an excuse to execute random demons)

Kokushibo has a smaller situation, he brings you a small personal feast, (well hidden human meat so you don’t feel guilty) and goes to some people to have them make human meals (just with human meat instead of beef) and personally brings you his nesting materials

Douma has everyone in the cult, and has a sacrifice for your “ascension” (cult bullshit to explain demons) and how you’d need to be quarantined for awhile (cuddles while you calm down from bloodlust) and you two eat the sacrifice

Akaza calms you by taking you out with him. Probably uses a muzzle so you stop biting him… he doesn’t try and keep you contained so much, just supervising so you don’t hurt yourself… or get caught-

Gyutaro has you and Daki in his nest, pampering you both and is hopeful his sister approves of his mate, power wise and demon appearance. (She’s just excited to have another demon to talk too dw)

Hantengu and his clones are waiting on you hand and FOOT, his clones’ mate shall have the same respect as Muzan, since Muzan chose you to be his demon mate.

Enmu puts you to sleep while this happens, easing the growing pains and hunger, you wake up basically the same just a demon bc of the dreams he gave you. 10/10 very nice.

This was very long 👍

I took pictures just in case if tumblr ate this.

This was so good!! I keep thinking about clawing and skinning Douma during the transformation while he just giggles and laughs loudly. Also, I love the nests- Gyutaro’s would probably stink of decay while Daki’s is the most prestige and comfortable. Only the most expensive fabrics and jewrely is allowed to come even near her nest.

I’m not the biggest fan of Hangengu’s clones, but Urogi stealing things for you and dropping it off at his nest, or trying to feed you foods he stole out of people’s hands like a seagull seems super funny to me XD

Also, I think Enmu tried more than once to nest inside a train but never could decide wich one to settle in since his favourite train model changes almost every week and it would be exhausting to change nests so many times, so probably decided to stay near or inside the busiest train station he could find. And yes, he will kick his feet in delight when watching a train pass by or stop to let passengers in.

Akaza probably is letting you chew and rip his forearms apart as much as you like during your transformation, he literally doesn’t care. Also, he’ll probably try to convince you to don’t eat women as well, but doesn’t mind if you eat them anyway. As long as you’re happy and fed.

I can see Muzan getting ashamed of nesting. He’s the demon kind and supposed to above such animalistic behaviours, but he can’t help to hoard the finest and highest grade pillows/blanket. He likes it comfortable and prestige. Muzan would probably spray some cologne over all of it as well to make sure it smells divine, just like him.

Muzan is probably being a little annoyed at how long your transformation is going. He’s gonna stand there, tapping his foot and checking his watch. He might even get worried and check you for any signs of a bad transformation.

Perhaps I should write more headcanons, those are fun!

[ohbo-ohno]

absolutely love the shock collar thing for ghoap x reader, especially post accident where they're both grovelling and super guilty for what happened because for once, neither one of them have nothing to use for punishing reader. that's all on them (Simon, mostly, but Johnny's just as guilty).

with that being said, I'd like to introduce this scenario:

maybe just a little bit of time passes. maybe they don't try to have outside time for a little while because reader absolutely detests the thought of the incident happening again since they lied to her the first time. not intentionally but she doesn't think otherwise because it wouldn't be the first time they made her break rules so that they can have an excuse to punish her and the "accident" as they said, might have been exactly that but this is worse because they lied to her face about it. so she doesn't want to give them any more excuses to hurt her again.

it actually gives her so much anxiety that it affects her way of thinking and the way she acts to the point where months go without her getting out of line. not once does she disobey them. not even giving just a little🤏 sarcasm in case one of them turns a complete 180 and goes apeshit on her. and at first, that's fine. it's what Simon might have wanted— complete obedience from his pet. but after a while, he starts to hate it because he can see that it's out of fear.

even when he tries to give her affection, that little flinch twists something in his dead heart. it's no better with Johnny either because she just receives his affection too with very little reaction. as if she's just going through the motions and waiting for it to end and not because she wants their affection.

they've been grovelling and trying to convince her that she's not in trouble for anything and trying to get her genuine reactions and trying to get her to be happy with them again, but anything they do is met with wide eyes, flinching, freezing or something else equally as negative.

but they don't know the extent of that fear until at dinner, one of them makes the mistake of mentioning outside time again and reader just... breaks down. like breaks into tears, hyperventilating and drops into fetal position (maybe even hide under the bed or in the closet) and begging them not to hurt her again because she's been a good girl like they wanted :(

and Simon has never hated himself more because he just wanted to see something other than fear in her eyes for once.

(is 🪐-anon taken? i feel like i'm going to frequent this area)

hey babe stay as long as you want! i will probably only grow more disturbed the longer i write. i didn't add a whole lot to this ask because honestly it stands really well on it's own, so tysm for sending it to me <3

i looved answering the shock collar asks, so fucked up and horrible in one of my favorite ways. that unintentional betrayal that can't taken back, their anger at your rightful distrust, you suddenly being totally averse to something you'd been begging for for weeks, oh it's all so horrible.

i really like the idea of reader becoming actively distressed when they want her to go outside again. she can't help but think they're going to trick her again, is determined to not allow that to happen under any circumstances. they didn't punish her past the shock last time, but who knows what they might do next time? no. it's simply not worth the risk

she doesn't really have a breakdown until simon calmly suggests they might force her outside if she keeps refusing - for her own health, he goes on, but she's already deep in the throes of panic by that point

it takes a long time for them to coax her into relaxing again, even longer for her to even look them in the eyes

simon doesn't mention forcing you outside again.

[beanghostprincess]

I just thought of this so you have to, too.

Buggy being genderfluid but the Roger crew not really giving a flying fuck about it. Who cares how you dress so long as you're still you? Yeah, sure, go apeshit, just be loyal, strong, etc. You're one of Us and your pants or lack thereof doesn't impact that.

The crew disbands.

Shanks and Buggy get smth of a culture shock once they are no longer in that protective bubble. Buggy is getting hateful looks, comments, snide remarks. Shanks is at his side, completely taken aback and honestly pretty pissed. Buggy, on more Femme days, faces more animosity, misogyny, and it's astounding to the former apprentices who different men and women are treated. And if you can't tell by a glance, people can get so upset?? What the hell????

Buggy refuses to be anything but themself/himself/herself, depending on the day and vibe. Shanks refuses to comply with this newfound social expectation to be rude and mean for no reason to innocent people.

The Grandline is the most progressive of the seas, due in part to the natural insanity it breeds. The Blues aren't as open, but the East is the more chill of the four. Buggy chooses there for many reasons, but the Big Top and crew is open to any sea. There's an information network, smuggling division, crowdsourcing area, etc.

Shanks will drop tips at places he visits for Buggy to get a foothold if they don't already exist, and Buggy will drop tips for Shanks regarding pertinent information for adventures, expectations, and etiquette.

It's a good dynamic. They go for years like this.

Buggy's stint in Impel Down was.... not fun. Aside from the misgendering, general torture and absolutely overwhelming energy there, it was stifling.

Marineford was a hot mess, but by the end, Shanks offers Buggy a ride to the Big Top's docked location, and on board, he just leads Buggy to this little chest in his cabin. Says, "here, take your pick. You wear whatever is most comfortable for you." There's a dress or two, a few skirts, tops, pants, shirts, and while most of it is in different sizes, there's belts and loops. Buggy bites back tears when they find their old skirt. They'd left that one on the Oro. How did Shanks even get this??

The time skip goes down, and by the time Cross Guild is running, Buggy has had to decide between masquerading as a Cis person or just... being themself. One morning, they wake up and everything feels too TIGHT, too STIFF, too much and she's left eying her leotard, half skirt and thigh highs.

...

Well. If she dies, might as well die authentic.

Crocodile and Mihawk nearly do a spit take when she struts out of her tent or into the announcement hall. She is a bit nervous by this, but she has COMMITTED.

It... also helps that so many of her men are singing her praises and Ritchie is bouncing happily, Mohji and Cabaji are smiling, Alvida is giving an approving nod-

She's happy. She's not going to let fear rule her, even if she can feel the gazes of two very powerful men tracking her every breath.

((They're not mad, they're fighting every urge to swoop her into a kiss and maybe more, but also the fact that WHO GAVE THE CLOWN THE RIGHT TO BE SO HOT??? IT WAS BAD ENOUGH BEFORE, NOW THIS????? they're not good at flirting, they cannot HANDLE this-))

I adore this. Buggy being genderfluid is actually so important to me as a genderfluid person-- My beloved. The concept of cold reality suddenly hitting them both (because they were so, so supportive back at the Oro Jackson) when the crew disbands is so good. Shanks is extremely protective of them when that happens, refusing to let anybody talk shit about Buggy. It's just so sweet of him. Tbh, it hurts so much to think about Buggy having to hide that part of himself,,, But then they come out to Mihawk and Crocodile and it's not only that they support them but they also absolutely love them. These two men are having a whole crisis over a clown again (as usual). But yeah, it's actually really sweet to see Buggy finally being free with them in that way,, Thinking thoughts about Crocodile going full mafioso with money and buying Buggy all the clothes she wants (he does it more for himself and Mihawk but yeah).

[katyawriteswhump]

Eddie and Steve: Monster Hunters (steddiemicrofic/steddielovemonth)

For @steddiemicrofic Feb prompt, ‘edge,’ and @steddielovemonth day 23, Love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold. (@stevesbipanic) Thank you <3

Rating: T. WC: 509. CW: None. Tags: established steddie, angst, slight au, slightly fluffy, slightly soft Eddie, slightly silly!

…

Eddie wasn’t sure how he’d gotten separated from Steve. However, there he was—alone, the demo-goat caught between him and the quarry, his Molotov cocktail primed.

“Eat dirt, you evil, bleating little sh—iiiiiiit!”

Suddenly, Steve was there, hot on the goat’s hooves, brandishing a home-made flame-thrower.

Too late. Eddie’s missile already flew. A flash blinded him, echoed by a crackling boom, and a thunderclap in his chest. He rushed, choking, through the smoke. DID I JUST EXPLODE MY BOYFRIEND?

“Steve?”

“Heeeeere!”

Eddie swayed on the quarry precipice, from which Steve dangled, clinging with both hands. And then with one hand. Already on his knees, Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist.

“You trying to kill me?” Black goop smeared Steve’s pale face.

“Didn’t see you, Stevie.”

“I’d got this… Jesus! My shoulder… your rings… Hurts. Oh shit, oh shit, I’m gonna die!”

Sweat beaded Steve’s brow, fingers quivering for grip as he slipped farther. Eddie squeezed tight words from gritted teeth:  “Gimme your other hand.”

It didn’t go like in movies. Steve’s efforts wrenched at Eddie’s faltering hold. Their gazes locked, pulses going apeshit in union.

“Steve, I—"

Steve plummeted into the cool twilight. Eddie’s heart dropped through his boots, falling with his boyfriend, as far as the distant splash.

Eddie stumbled blindly to the shingle shore. He saw only his final image of Steve—Steve’s horror mirroring Eddie’s own, Steve’s too-pretty mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.  Almost like when we kissed, and those times we… The sex no longer mattered. It’d been casual between them till now, when the idea of a future without Steve shredded Eddie’s soul. Worse, poor Steve! Way too young to…

Eddie whipped out a flashlight, legs numb, stomach knotted. Something crawled out of the water. Hopefully, not the demo-goat. Seconds later, he hovered over Steve, who flopped onto his back, arms flung wide.

“Holy shit.” Eddie tugged his hair, hesitating to touch Steve—fearing he’d shattered some illusion.

Steve panted hard, catching his breath. Wet, bedraggled, and incongruously adorable, his flat hair made his eyes seem huge. Then he scowled, attempted to sit. Eddie finally tumbled forward, flung his arms around him.

“You scared the shit outta me.”

“You angling for an apology?” Steve’s voice was trembly as the rest of him. “Diving that far stings like a b-bitch! Did I say I wanted a swim, Munson?”

“Sorry.” He rubbed Steve’s back

“Thought I was a g-gonner. Makes you realize… about… st-stuff.”

Eddie sniffed then pulled off his sweater, shivering himself as he wrapped it around Steve. Steve raised a weary brow. “B-body heat st-still required, Dipshit.”

Eddie enfolded him tight again, then might have sobbed as he helped Steve up. Steve proved too tired to speak, Eddie too choked, till they reached the car. Eddie dialled the heater up, touched Steve’s thigh: “Stevie, there’s something I… uh…”

“I love you, man.” Steve rested his head back, eyes fluttering closed. “Try not to nearly kill me again this week, ’kay?”

“Love you too.” Eddie tenderly stroked dripping hair from Steve’s brow, then scrambled over the gear-lever to get cosy.

[chaotic-iguana]

Refuge | chapter two.

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter | general masterlist

chapter two: reluctant acquaintances 

wordcount: 1.3k summary: what if reader and joel were married before the outbreak? what if just another mundanely late night at the office on the night of the outbreak separated them for a decade? warnings: grief/mourning, estrangement still, developing?? re-relationships, contempt, guilt, survivor’s guilt, panic attack again, soft joel!, struggling joel!, i love ellie too she’s for sure a kid but a fucking good one, child loss. 

You hadn’t realised you were attacking her until she was nearly under you, her eyes wide and panicked staring straight into your own. 

When you finally did gain control of your own body, the jagged pen in your grip went scattering to the floor as you scrambled back on all fours, desperate to get yourself away from her. 

You had just nearly tried to stab a child. A scared fucking child. 

Guilt spread like fire in your veins, a weight settling on your chest as you tried to get your bearings. The voices around you seemed to get louder, fragments breaking the haze you were in. 

“…fucking apeshit she’s goddamn crazy, you know - almost choked Eugene when she got here…” 

A harsh bark of words you couldn’t quite make out ensured that voice fell silent. 

You didn’t care - the only word on your mind was Sarah, and it took a few moments for the hum in your ears to fade enough for you to recognise your own voice uttering her name over and over like a damned prayer. 

The sympathetic wince on the girl’s face while she reached a hand out to help you up had you recoiling further, tucking your knees into your chest to curl in on yourself. 

Just a dream. This is just a dream. I’ll wake up, and it’ll go away. 

Eyes squeezing shut, you pressed your forehead into the top of your knees, cradling them to your sternum, cold tile biting into your skin. The chatter increased, crescendoing as it echoed in your skull, until a single syllable was yelled out abruptly.

Footsteps sounded again, then pin-drop silence.

You refused to move; to open your eyes or to acknowledge this illusion your reality seemed to have woven itself into. Two large, heavy weights settled on your shoulders, wrenching a yelp from your lips, before an all-too-familiar face came into your swimming vision. Your frantic scan of the room turned up empty. The girl, Tommy, Fred - all gone. 

“You okay?”

A pause. Blinking seemed to be out of your realm of possibility - let alone answering him. But his gaze remained patient - warm and welcoming, even, as he waited for you to respond. It took you a minute, but his palms remained clamped on your shoulders, face just inches away. 

How could he still do that? Know exactly what you need. 

When your breath slowed down to normal and you could see more clearly, you swallowed painfully against the sudden dryness in your throat. 

“N-not real. ‘S not real.” 

When he made out what your hoarse whisper was repeating, his eyes softened further, hands moving down to grip your arms just above your elbows. 

“It is, honey. It’s real. ‘M right here, see?” He took your shaking hands and pressed your palms into either side of his face, stubble prickling against your skin.

You shook your head, mumbling and pulling away, comprehension evading you. “Not real. Not here.” 

His grip tightened, resisting your movement. He squeezed your wrists gently, making you look at him again. 

Joel was older now. He was just under ten years older than you when you had met - but you had fallen too hard to care, and loved the crinkle in eyes and smiles all the same. But his curls were gone now, shorter and washed grey. His beard was thicker, peppered with white, and the indent between his brows was deeper. None of that leapt out at you, though. It was his eyes - still as soft as you remembered them, but haunted now, shadows lurking just behind them, pouring melancholy into his gaze. 

But you were hardly the same, either. Lines had etched themselves on your forehead, next to your eyes, your mouth. Hair somehow darker, whites and greys smattered across your slightly receded hairline. Your hands shook now, and your lips had forgotten how to curve into a smile. 

Oh, how you wished for the innocence of youth again. To bring the sickly sweet pear of ignorance to your mouth and feel your teeth sink into its flesh once more.

Now, regret ran thick like honey down your throat until you couldn’t breathe. Your face must have given you away, because Joel’s voice began rumbling under your touch the second the thought crossed your mind.

“No, baby, no. Focus here. On me. Y’still gettin’ these? Who’s been takin’ care of ya?” He sounded so honest - so sincere. 

You fucking left me behind, Joel. Who the fuck else would even have tried? 

You just snorted in response instead, his face contorting into the expression of a broken man. As if this, now, was his final straw.   

“Yo-you’ve been alone? This whole time?” His question was so tentative, spoken so softly and cautiously - as if his mere formulation of it could change the outcome. 

A nod from you, and a sharp intake of his breath. Another pause. 

“Who else was supposed to take me in? You left, Joel. Don’t shoulder that responsibility on someone else.” How fitting, for the first words I speak to him in years to be scalding enough to make him wince. 

Your breath hitched at the tears that unexpectedly filled his eyes, or the fact that he had to look away. His hands dropped to his knees, shoulders curving in. The utter defeat written into every inch of him is enough to make you want to forgive him a hundred times, and then a thousand more. He looks like a vanquished god like this - brought to his knees, shoulders slumped and head bowed low. In another lifetime, you would have painted this moment until you ran out of paper. You settle for searing it into your mind, instead. 

“I-fuckin’ never shoulda stayed late at the office that day. Fuck.” 

Has he gone senile?

“…What? What the fuck, Joel? I’m the one who stayed late.” 

And he’s shaking his head; reaching out for your hands again; holding them against his chest. 

“I was late, too. It’s why I couldn’t pick you up - ‘cause Sarah called to cut the cake an’ wouldn’t take no for an answer - had to drive home and convince her to just wait. Second I did, everythin’ had gone to shit. Don’t even know where the fuckin’ cake went.”

A frown was carved onto your face as he spoke. You had assumed he simply hadn’t bothered to so much as phone you to warn you while him and Sarah sat on the couch.

“You got to her? Before it started?” His chin dipped to confirm the affirmative, and you let loose a breath you forgot you were holding. 

She’s safe, she’s okay. I’ll forgive him for fuckin’ anything if she’s okay. 

“That’s not Sarah, though, right? Did you leave her at a QZ? It’s safer there, atleast. I’m just glad she’s okay. Fuck, I am so fucking happy she’s okay.” Giddy with hope as it coursed through your veins, you barely noticed Joel’s face fall further at your words. 

“Joel? Which QZ?” Silence. His eyes were pointedly chasing away from yours, hands slackening their grip. 

Fear clamped her ruthless fist around your neck once more. 

“Where the fuck is my daughter, Joel? I want to know where she is. I’ll fucking-I’ll find her. I don’t give a shit. Where the fuck is she?” 

The crack in your voice said enough. So did the tears glistening on Joels cheeks. And the two of you knelt, in mocking prayer to a merciless God in mourning for the daughter that should have been with you. 

And you wept. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed):@imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel,@bastardmandennis, @breakfastatjoels(sorry bc forgot to tag u in the last one) dividers by me! series taglist (message/comment to be added): @spookyxsam, @obscurexsorrows, @planet-marz1, @lunxramour, @anavatazes, @joeldjarin, @stunkbiggu, @joels-darlin, @casa-boiardi, @noisynightmarepoetry, @chiogarza, @jasminedragoon, @daddy-din, @moonlightdivine, @stickthegremlin, @mandoisapunk

[lostonmyroad]

Moments That I Want Tattooed On My Forehead From S-Classes That I Raised Chapters 50-70

As always, BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!! Future chapters may be referenced!!!

The insane amount of lore dropped in these chapters wow

Chapters 50-60

help its genuinely still so funny to see yoojin in the early chapters going: “all i have to do is complete this one (1) task and then i can live like a slacker” before he gives up (cries in cale henituse)

everyone referring to yoojin as “monster daddy” and asking him to raise their children is amazing. no notes 

ARRIVAL OF THE KING SUNG HYUNJAE!!! He's a bastard he's amazing he's always on my mind

"...no matter how amazing Sung Hyunjae might be, he wouldn't be able to notice it easily. He wouldn't press his nose against my body and smell me, like my idiot brother had, would he" um. ok??? yoojin's completely normal though process

sung hyunjae essentially telling yoojin “aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you want to go apeshit” within 5 minutes of their first real conversation

i forgot shj gives him a pair of earrings!! (and a bone for Peace)

yoojin’s disguise to get to the f rank dungeon being a fucking sun protection hat…it’s giving marvel baseball cap and sunglasses…and he has this because he used to stage one man protests??? sir what were you protesting against

oh that’s right the dungeons will appear at a faster rate because “time was only reversed for yoojin” oops

Chirpie makes its debut!!

yoojin trying to hide where he got chirpie from “i found it in the hallway”. king if yoohyun wasn’t suspicious of you already that would do it

yoohyun yeeting Peace and mama yoojin scolding him

chef myungwoo :))

bleh bug dungeon. i’m with you yoojin that was disgusting

yoojin not wanting to use Last Repayment :((

Riette makes an entrance! do you think riette demonstrated girl power when she abused her brother until he became an s rank

yoojin thinking about how he had raised yoohyun and was so happy about sending him to college…saving money for his tuition…and just losing interest in riette :((

yoojin saves bak hayool!!

this is where we see peak yoojin mafia behavior. unhinged. but justified revenge?? this is why i don’t understand fan interpretations where he’s like a wallflower like this man has murdered multiple people quite violently 

chapter 60 is just so much. like. i cant even describe. yoojin you need so much therapy

the way he sees people’s last memories before they die ugh…

yoojin playing 3D chess while everyone else is playing checkers fr

him calling his friend who doesn’t remember him bc of the regression and telling them to live a happy life always gets me ufffff i wish we got to meet this character

Chapters 60-70

Yoojin and the Awakening center — a tragedy in the making. Pre-regression trauma galore

The Association rears its ugly head!!! Yoojin has an authority figure problem (but it’s completely justified)

love how chill Yoojin is about Chirpie. random F rank monster that’s cute as hell that’s eating Peace's weight in magic stones and was born from an error in the system??? ehh no big deal it’s my pet now and i’ll kill for it

love the absolutely random detail about seok hayan’s pineapple earrings. thank you geunseo you know what the people want

yoojin funding public research!! hero of the people and my heart

yerim refusing to praise yoohyun and myeongwoo to their faces hahahaha. all of them petty as hell

MYUNGWOO GETS HIS SS RANK SKILL BABYYYY

yoojin still trying to protect myungwoo i love them

yoojin: *is keeping secrets from yoohyun and putting himself in danger*

also yoojin: why is yoohyun being cold with me

everyone’s giving yoojin flowers today lmfao

sung hyunjae you’re everything to me. you’re so bizzare. the bouquet??? showing up in a 2-seater car?? bullying seok simyeong??

Shj reminding Yoojin to wear his seatbelt because he's an F rank HDJEKXIDKD

oh yoojin. “who’d want to place themselves through hardships on purpose” like SIR are u that un self aware

yerim listening to this bullshit, eyes falling out of her head: i’m literally going to crazy murder you with yoohyun

the dungeon ppl have the actual worst timing. yoohyun is going to McFreaking lose it

yoojin and yoohyun finally work things out we love to see it :))

chapter 65 starts the explanation of the 50 s ranks requirement!!! water droplet is going through it

so much is just casually dropped in this chapter like. yoohyun is a born s rank! the dungeon ppl are manually inputting things for yoojin! the world might end! anyways!

yoojin having such strong mom energy that the dungeon people forgot he was a dude

one of the moments ever when yoohyun and Peace burn down the dungeon in worry and yoojin’s just there like. ah. shit. my bad i fucked up there a little

grown up Peace my beloved

chapter 67 yoohyun my beloved. you are so crazy. “hold still while i chop off your arm and fake your dear so i can keep you safe” 

the han brothers finally having a real conversation. yoojin i love you but you really needed to do this sooner

PEACE STAYING SMALL JUST SO YOOJIN CAN PICK HIM UP UWAHHHH MY HEART

Newcomer joins the battle

Chirpie turnin on the TV by itself and yoojin praising it like every proud parent ever

more monsters!!!

unicorns (white + black bc yoojin is terrible at naming) + gryphon (named Blue)

yoojin’s training method of using himself as a human chew toy is traumatizing for everyone around him.

same hyuna i would also be taking 10939392 photos

Peace and Blue WWE match. flex on em Peace

nobody:

yoojin: wow myeongwoo is hot now

BLUE LEARNING HOW TO OPEN THE FRIDGE

i love the monster shenanigans

[likeathunderoverflow]

So I've been thinking about Ateez as Superheroes

I saw someone say they'd love to see San as Wolverine, and, like, I see the vision but in my brain he's just such a sweetheart. So instead I picked who I think Ateez are most like. Please don't yell at me lol.

San: Captain America/Steve Rogers

Like he's just so sweet and buff, the pride of his hometown, perfectly dorito shaped. 100/10 Cap material. Also husband material.

Hongjoong: Iron Man/Tony Stark

He's just giving Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist. He's the creative thinker, the doer, the leader. Avant garde, witty, but a serious love for those he considers his people.

Seonghwa: War Machine/James Rhodes

Listen, he's HJ's second in command, so an obvious pick. In the same way that War Machine is sassy and sick of everyone's shit so is he. Also I really like the idea of Rhodes building the Stark Tower out of Legos.

Yunho: Spiderman/Peter Parker (duh)

It's not even a question, I will brook no argument. Also, can you imagine him in the suit? I am unwell.

Yeosang: Dr. Strange/Stephen Strange

A little kooky, very dry sense of humor. Seems like he'd make inappropriate use of the sling ring lol. Honorable mention to Hawkeye but only because watching him do archery was akin to how I imagine most men feel watching their favorite sports.

Mingi: Thor

For starters, I need football Mingi to drop kick me off the Sears Tower ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS FIT. Second, I really feel that he and Thor match in terms of Himbo energy as well as ego. Both feel things very deeply and can be easily hurt, but they will also bounce back with some slap stick comedy. Also both princesses.

Wooyoung: The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

Here's the thing, best friends with Captain America is an obvious point. However! Wooyoung has been very open with his feelings of loneliness in the past and Bucky was alone for a long time. I also know WY has this very deep serious side that he occasionally shows but I really think it's the tip of the iceberg. Additionally, sarcasm.

Jongho: The Hulk/Bruce Banner

Sweet, quiet, serious Jongho that can absolutely go apeshit as needed is so fun to me. He has younger siblings, you think he hasn't Hulk Smashed them before? Plus whenever the bear hits a high note with his fierce little scowl it's like watching the Hulk transform. Just *chefs kiss*

[meraki-raven333]

{☆ Random Obey Me Headcanons ☆}

Brothers Edition !!

Lucifer LOVES raisins. He's unnaturally obsessed with them. This greatly unsettles Diavolo, who hates them with a burning passion. (Sometimes when Diavolo isn't doing his work or he's annoying Lucifer, Lucifer will threaten to eat raisins in front of him).

Mammon is like really good at sculpting? He sucks ass at any other form of art but for some reason he's extremely talented in working with clay. Makes a decent profit off of it. (He gifted his first piece to Lucifer, who has it displayed in his room.)

One time Belphie farted really loud in his sleep and scared himself awake. Beel has never let him live it down.

Luke thinks spiders are cool. One time he found a spider at RAD and chased Mammon around with it (Mammon is terrified of spiders) as revenge for calling him a Chihuahua.

Simeon's true laugh is one of those laughs that isn't cute but is incredibly contagious and sounds funny. Everytime he starts really laughing Solomon loses his shit and starts laughing with him. Solomon has a wheeze laugh, which Simeon thinks is hilarious. They have to be separated or else they'll laugh each other to death.

One time a rat managed to sneak into Lord Diavolo's Castle and it appeared when Barbatos was giving Diavolo his morning tea. Barbatos let out the most high pitched girly scream and dropped the tea all over the floor and Diavolo, shattering the dishes. Diavolo didn't stop laughing for days. Barbatos is haunted by it this day.

Levi introduced Satan into FNAF and he became a hardcore Theorist. He thinks the games are fun to play but stuck around for the interesting but confusing lore. Sometimes stays up late at his computer researching it.

Asmo LOVES plushies. His whole room is filled with plushies of various sizes and colors. Went apeshit when he found out Squishmallows exist.

Levi is really good at dancing, he just doesn't have the confidence for it. One time Mammon went to go tell him dinner was ready when he was dancing and scared him. Levi screamed in fear, which scared Mammon and made him scream in fear. They both got scolded by Lucifer for being loud.

MC introduced Mammon into SpongeBob and he loves it. He thinks it's the funniest show he's ever seen (the only right opinion) but he won't admit it to anyone. Watches it when he's feeling down.

Beel is actually a great cook, but he doesn't do it that often since he'll eat the ingredients before he finishes. He's never allowed to cook any meals except for just himself.

Beel and Belphie are immune to onions. Since Beel will end up eating the onion before cutting it, all the brothers wake up Belphie whenever a meal requires onions.

Asmo really likes Mac & Cheese. Not the well made kind, the shitty boxed kind you'd get at the grocery store. It's his comfort food.

Satan reads fanfiction in his freetime. He hides it in a secret book somewhere and would rather be skinned alive than one of his brothers find it (especially Lucifer.)

[skyloftian-nutcase]

How about Wild showing a curious member of the chain some torture/interrogation resistance he was taught in Hyrule’s army? Asking for some more lighthearted whump.

Wild smacked his fist into his palm. "Wait, I actually remembered something fun this time!"

Sky, Twilight, and Legend glanced at him curiously from where they were lounging in the den.

"Okay, so back in the war there was this one drug--I can't remember what it's called--but it basically made you drunk and loose lipped and stuff," Wild explained hastily. "And the way we were taught--I think, I don't remember the training that well--but anyway, the point--the point is that the way we were taught was to basically just take a question and flip it."

"Wait, wait, wait," Legend interrupted, dropping his book onto his lap. "You're excited because you remembered a torture technique?"

"Told you he needs therapy," Twilight muttered as Sky snorted back a laugh.

"It can't be that bad if he's excited," Sky whispered before prompting their friend, "Go on, Wild."

"Exactly what Sky said, it's funny!" Wild emphasized. "Anyway! So this one guy was like tell us... tell us something. I don't rememeber what he was asking about--"

"Wait, he remembered being interrogated and tortured?" Legend hissed to the other two while Wild babbled.

The other two remained uncomfortably quiet, listening with unease.

"And so he finished his question and was all glaring and doing the bad cop vibe and I just said I hate bananas and when I tell you he went apeshit--"

"He has issues," Twilight sighed heavily.

"Agreed," Legend chimed in.

Sky just smiled. "Annoying them is always the best technique."

Wild laughed. "His face was so red! I'm glad you get it."

Legend gawked at the pilot. "Sky, what the hell. This isn't okay!"

Sky just glanced at his friend and cocked his head to the side, as if to a child who didn't know any better.

[wordy-little-witch]

Good golly gumdrops I'm gonna go absolutely apeshit real quick here

Disabled Buggy Ideas!!!!!!

Buggy who uses his Devil Fruit as a mobility aid on days when his joints are Extra Sore, especially his ankles/knees/etc.

Buggy who sometimes gets vertigo and so cannot always float around bc of the dizziness. On days like that, he has physical mobility aids.

His first aid was a can - Mohji and Ritchie stole it when the crew was still pretty new - Buggy was about 15, Mohji about 11, and Ritchie was a tiny little thing. They had noticed Buggy cringed a little more on certain days, when he walked or got up or sat down. They presented it to him with big smiles and Buggy wound up crying. They decorated it together.

His second aid was another cane, this one a gift from the crew, now bigger. They carved it and went absolutely ham with decorating it but sealing it well - his first one was a little worse for wear, paint chipping, wood a little roughed up. That one gets retired to a place of honor for Buggy's precious keepsakes. The new one is a bit sturdier too.

The third one came from someone on the crew actually. It was a hand me down. One of the tailors on board had recently gotten gifted a new walker to replace their forearm crutches. And when she was downsizing, she asked Buggy if he'd ever used them before, if he knew anyone who did. Those become his favored items because of the versatility, the cuffs, and how it evens out the pressure on his hands/wrists/elbows/shoulders.

At some points, he also gets braces, compression stuff, etc.

After Impel Down, his body was damn near debilitated. He was good for playing up the prestige and audacity and faux confidence, but Shanks saw through him immediately when he offered a ride on the Red Force. Luckily, an allied ship under them was also there and had the means and room to carry Buggy's accidentally-acquired men, women and others who sworn fealty to him. With strict orders from Buggy to mind their manners and to assist where they could, deferring to the ship's crew, they were set up there by majority. Few remained on the Red Force specifically.

Once away from prying, assessing, worshipping eyes, Buggy drops a few of the many masks he wears. He sags a little, moving to squeeze his eyes shut, pressing his palms over his eyes and grimacing as he tries to shift his weight.

A warm, calloused hand presses over his eyes. Buggy inhales shakily, letting his own hands move so Shanks could block the light from his gaze. He leaned into the touch.

"Hey," the redhead says softly, "Hongo wants to check you over. Do you want my room or the medbay?"

A strangled noise, not unlike a drowning cat, escapes the clown's mouth. Shanks shuffles closer, not touching, but close enough for his body heat to be felt.

"Okay," he breathes, "Okay, I've got you, Bugs..."

Buggy lets himself be led by his best friend, his Red, his Shanks, docile and blinded and dizzy. At some point he can Feel two people join them, and Shanks's voice, carefully soft and quiet and familiar, guides him along with gentle murmurs of "step in two, yeah, there you go"s and "duck your head for me, perfect"s.

At one point while stepping down the stairs, Buggy's right knee gives a sharp and deafening CRACK, white-hot-ice-blue pain shooting up and down his leg and hip. He chokes on it, body trying to split, to get away from the pain, and he teeters, teeth grit and breath stolen. A warm chest at his back steadies him, and Buggy gags at the disoriented agony. Shanks is oozing worry and anxiety, Hongo is nearly vibrating, Buggy is trying to keep from just falling to pieces on the floor- so Benn just rubs the blue haired pirate's shoulder. "It's alright," he soothes softly, gently, baritone warm and assuring. "I'm going to pick you up, alright? It's alright, I carry Cap over there all the time when he gets drunk as a skunk. Can I touch you?"

Buggy barely manages a nod, and he's only mildly ashamed of how tightly he clings when Benn lifts him so carefully, so kindly, breathing through the bubbles in his eyes and throat, the electricity in his veins and nerves. The soft pop-clicks of his body splitting and reconnecting filled the air.

They take Buggy to Shanks's room, hoping it would be less stressful. The preliminary check could be done with the generic things Hongo can grab and bring along, anything requiring something more severe would need preparation anyway, and it would take time to be able to execute safely. It was a hefty choice, but one none involved with could regret when Buggy, still coiled tightly and far too pale, clung tightly to Shanks's wrist, hand still over his eyes, like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Bad blood aside, he really was rather attached.

Maneuvering was tedious but nobody breathed a hint of complaint, not even Benn when Shanks immediately climbed into his own bed, gesturing to have the other captain given to him.

Hongo's initial assessment had him pursing his lips and breathing through fury, had Benn aching for a cigarette and Shanks visibly counting aloud to avoid an explosion of his Haki. Buggy was semi coherent through it all.

The next day, Hongo strictly tells Buggy to rest Or Else, to Especially Not Climb Or Run, to minimize walking as well. The stress fractures alone were bad, but the inflammation, the swelling, the EVERYTHING had his nerves on edge. Buggy, knowing not to question a medical professional, concedes. Shanks capitalizes on the Buggy Time, and he whines and complains the whole time he has to be away from his Bugaboo.

Galdino is a little skeptical, especially given how his own injuries were deemed not as severe. Buggy's embarrassed by the princess treatment, as Shanks calls it ((as Roger once called it when they were young and Buggy's flare ups really began in full, to Crocus's endless worry and frantic searches)). Meeting up with the Big Top yields answers yet brews more questions in turn as the other's immediately touch base with Hongo while some others scurry off once updated to 'grab the goods', only to return with a forearm crutch and colorful ace wraps.

It's a wild ride start to finish and Galdino is left with many, MANY questions, the other's as well, but Buggy's crew as well as Shanks's set them straight pretty quickly. After all, someone else's medical records are not your business and you have no right to pass judgement on someone's use of aids.

It's normalized for people in the Buggy Pirates to use different mobility aids, to see people out and about with things that they can use to better their quality of life and express themselves therewith.

Buggy's pillow case outfit is a play on that - on using his Devil Fruit for movement and ease of motion, for hiding his braves or wraps and for the additional bonus of playing on the perceptions of others.

Mihawk and Crocodile, once they join, are not privy to what is beneath the onesie. The former can, however, tell on occasion when Buggy's having a bad flare up, though not why.

It's only after Buggy tells them, either by choice or circumstantial events, the truth that they put together these pieces.

And from there? Well, neither of them are particularly Typical themselves. Mihawk has a nerve disorder which gives him difficulty with feeling pain. Crocodile is an amputee. They're not about to judge for any of that. They will however judge Buggy's tendency of pushing himself too far too frequently.

Just. Chronically ill/disabled Buggy. I love himmmm

[starpirateee]

could you write a fic where curt gets captured and owen goes absolutely feral trying to get him back? i need angst :D

I will absolutely write that, I think both of us need Owen to go a little apeshit for a while 👀 remember the movie Taken? "I will hunt you down. And I will kill you." ?? Yeah...

Oh yeah, and I 100% used the same case that was referenced in the panic attack prompt because I fell short of ideas, so essentially I'm creating one large cinematic universe worth of ficlets (/j) and this is set about five months before that panic attack

Cynthia Houston called. Cynthia Houston— head supervisor of the American Secret Service— had personally called Owen Carvour— very much not American operative of the British Military Intelligence— with three words on her mind that changed the state of his mental state immediately.

Curt's been compromised.

That was all she'd said before Owen's heart started pounding in his ears.

"What do you mean, he's compromised?" Owen had asked, but he knew. There were a limited number of ways that this could go. One of them compromised him too, and forced his hand. He wasn't so afraid of that option anymore. He'd spent that long preparing for it that he knew the exact reaction to it, and exactly what he was supposed to do.

The other one was dangerous, and meant that Curt's life was in jeopardy. That wouldn't be a matter of concern for another agency under any other circumstance, but Cynthia was able to pull strings, to get him involved in matters that he had no right to even know about. If she wanted him for a particular mission, then there was a very good chance that he was going to be on that mission.

He braced himself subtly, waiting for Cynthia to tell him to start making preparations to run for a long time, or for her to tell him where she needed him in the next few hours.

"Captured. For once, he didn't expose himself, but all the same, he got caught… I think you might be familiar with the case load?"

Owen's jaw clenched tight. Part of him was relieved, but this was the dangerous option, and that meant he didn't have the space to be relieved. "Tell me."

"There's a group of arms dealers led by a man they call Jenner, you know him?"

"Yes. Yes, I know of him and his little organisation. Do you have anything on where he's based?" He knew that Cynthia had more sense than to tell him information like that over a telephone line, but he also knew that he didn't care when he got the information, so long as he got it. It was more than clear that she wanted him on the ground to help them find him, or bring him back, so he knew he was going to get what he needed at some point. She'd likely pass him off to someone else with the intel, and he'd have to fill in the gaps from whichever debrief he was given.

"Always so efficient… you know I'm not gonna tell you that. Not here."

"I thought as much."

"But, make it to Manhattan, Agent, and there will be someone dockside to meet you… Say, tomorrow morning?"

Owen wrote that down on the notepad next to the phone. Tomorrow morning. January 7th. He was expected at the Manhattan harbour, presumably by someone who was supposed to blend in with the crowd. "Tomorrow morning. I'll be there."

Cynthia sighed, then. Owen had a one track mind, it was notoriously hard to pull from focus. Knowing him, he wouldn't stop until Curt was on safe ground once again, no matter how long he worked or what it took out of him. That likely included whatever journey was going to happen that night. He knew about the stakes now, there was truly going to be no stopping him. "Oh, and Owen?"

Owen stopped, briefly taken off guard by hearing Cynthia call him by anything other than a formal title. Of course, she knew his name, she just never used it. What was with the sudden drop in formality? Was this her way of going off the record? If it was, what the hell else should he be expecting out of this mission?

"… Yes?"

"We need you at your best. And I know you have a tendency to… Overthink. Take it as easy as you can tonight… We need you prepared for tomorrow… Curt has a habit of being fine. You know that as well as I do."

"Michael Jenner is a dangerous man, Miss Houston. There's no telling what he could do in an hour, let alone overnight!"

"I'm not telling you not to think about it, I'm just saying, we're gathering intel as we speak, so… Try not to do anything stupid before you get here."

"I understand…" He resigned, drawing in a breath. "Tomorrow, then."

Needless to say, with the stress of everything currently piled in his mind, and the long journey to New York, he didn't sleep all that well. Cynthia had said she wanted to see him at his best, but all things considered, she wasn't exactly going to get him at his worst... By the time he reached New York, he was tired, and he'd managed to think about the scenario enough to really piss himself off, so Cynthia's informant found him in a state so far beyond riled that he was almost serene, and wired on the first cup of coffee he could get his hands on.

"So, you're Agent Owen Carvour... I've heard a lot about you."

"Is that so?" Owen raised an eyebrow, finishing off his coffee. That was strong enough to get him by, he supposed he'd be a little more in control of himself now that he felt less like his mind was trying to betray him for being too slow. If Curt turns up dead, this is on you. The Americans made sure the blood was on your hands, no getting out of it now.

"Mhm. Word is that you're quite the operative... If what they're saying is right, then I dare say I should be impressed."

Owen just hummed in response, having only caught about half of what had just been said on the grounds that he simply could not focus on anything that wasn't the outcome of this mission, or the the crushing weight on the inside of his chest that demanded he get on with it. He was both eager to get to the point, and eager not to find out what the Americans were saying about him. Thanks to Curt, most of it was probably complimentary, but either way, he didn't want to take his chances. "You know why I'm here, don't you?"

"Sure, you're here to help us with Mega... Cynthia tells me you already know the guy at fault?" The informant watched Owen nod, then produce a well broken in notebook from his pocket and lean back against the harbour wall. They'd told him to expect a man who was spectacularly prepared for any eventuality, and judging by the notes written on the page he could see, Owen fit that description down to the letter.

"Jenner, yes. I've been on a case of his before. I didn't fully intend on making him my business again, but what can you do?" To tell the truth, Owen was nervous, but desperate not to let it show. The longer he stayed here, the less time he had before things reached a critical point with Curt. But, the last thing he was going to admit was that he was afraid of the outcome of the mission. He was a professional, and professionals didn't so much as think of the word fear, least of all not on the job.

"He's gotten himself a full team, by the sounds of things. Mega reported at least half a dozen bruisers. Real heavyweights, not to mention the number of specialists he's likely got under his belt."

"Specialists as in..?"

"Arms, explosives... You name it, really."

That seemed to ring some bells. Owen could recall Jenner being the mastermind behind some millions of dollars in transactions involving something of that caliber. And since then, he had grown something of a small empire, which seemed to only be growing by the second. "Where are the likes of him based without anyone noticing the massive transactions passing from hand to hand?"

"That's the thing, isn't it, Agent? Not to be based in one place..."

"In an arms race of this size, it's only logical..." Owen answered automatically, tapping his pen against the notebook spirals. This state of serenity beyond the rage was starting to beome dangerous in itself. He felt like a badly fused explosive, programmed to explode at an entirely random interval between now and the foreseeable.

"Alright then, I'll specify. Where was Curt? And where is he now?"

"Mega's assignment was in Stamford, Conneticut. We don't have any reason to believe he's anywhere different now..."

Owen nodded, making a note of that, and reminding himself that Manhattan was suddenly a very convenient place because Conneticut wasn't actually that far away. He hadn't been told of anyone who was going to be joining him, and that led him to the all too fair assumption that Cynthia had sent him and him alone. Part of him wondered why; his business wasn't in American affairs. He was a British operative, and he'd turned down the offer of working for the American Secret Service before, on the grounds that it may well border on treasonous. He was still sure of that fact, knowing that he betrayed his country for the sake of taking up what may have frankly been a better and more convenient offer was not worth his life, that much he was sure of.

But, the other part of him realised that Cynthia probably had him on such a direct line of contact for a good reason, and it may not have had so much to do with the fact that he was talented enough to catch her eye. At the end of the day, she could near enough do whatever she wanted, and that may have included protecting the secrets of one of her best agents for the sake of not letting him go on a technicallity like that.

Did she know? He had to wonder… Did it make sense for her to know and to still trust the pair of them as much as she did? What they were doing could cost them way more than just their jobs if they were found out by the right people, and yet she seemed to be aware of their closeness. If she wasn't, he was convinced that he would've never known that Curt got captured, not unless he saw him in person and had to work through the mess inside his mind to get to what really happened.

No matter whether Cynthia knew and was actively protecting his secret by proxy of Curt, she had called him in for a job, and it was a job that he was going to do.

Just as he suspected, the journey to Conneticut didn't take him long. Manhattan was the most convenient location because apparently, there was a substation in the harbour that few people actually knew about, where a small team of field scientists were waiting to kit him with a communications wire and walk him through a map of the block they'd managed to narrow it down to. When Curt's signal was corrupted, they had no way of telling which way he went, but they were confident that, should he have stayed in the facility, that block would be within the margin of error.

One of the scientists had promised to keep him updated through the wire, to let him know when he was in range, and he in turn had promised to make this as swift a job as he could manage.

It was the least he could do. Especially since his nerves wouldn't leave him alone, and especially since he was practically being dragged towards saving Curt as fast as possible, on the grounds that he didn't know how his fragile, ticking bomb state of mind would react if he saw him even vaguely injured.

"I've reached the block, I believe. Just off Third, at the intersection." He looked around. There wasn't an awful lot going on that wasn't perfectly within the norm. for a while, he was going to be going about some kind of life too, looking like he didn't have the full intention to flip the kill switch.

"The crossroads?"

"I'm at a crossroads, yes."

"Which way are you facing?"

"I'm on the corner of Mayberry and Third, that's what's in front of me, at least…"

He could feel the fuse on the locked box of his half-suppressed rage fizzling to a dangerous point. He was getting closer, and that meant that he was getting closer to being able to take this storm of righteous anger out on whoever dared to get in the way. It wasn't called a license to kill for no reason, and it came equipped with all of the repercussions already taken care of. All that meant for him was that he could get away with giving Curt a little bit of justice. It would look like they got in the way of his mission, or that he was pursued… Depending on how well organised it was, and how he executed his arrival.

As the scientist started giving him directions, he took a breath. Not yet. Not yet… Prevalent justice would have to wait for a few minutes, until he was no longer public facing. There was a pistol in the inner pocket of his jacket, he could feel it against his side, with the spare clips sitting on the other side, the exact same reach away from his seemingly eager grasp.

That fuse blew when he was alone, when he was wandering the corridors of the facility, looking for anything that might class as a sign or some kind of pointer towards Curt. Instinct told him to get lower, to find sub-floors and basements that facilities like this wouldn't want exposing to the public eye. Upon descending the sirst flight of stairs, he heard a scream that was clearly a long time in the making. The way it echoed through the corridor made him stop in his tracks, and it was in that exact moment that the box blew open and everything exploded onto the outside.

Red tinged rage flooded his senses. He knew that tone well, though it wasn't so often that he heard him so distressed. Curt was good at keeping face under pressure or interrogation, it was one of the things he definitely gave himself credit for, and one of the things that he definitely deserved to do so for. Owen knew that he was more than capable of giving his adversaries as much shit as they gave to him, and also being so cosmically annoying that they have no choice but to make things harder for him…. It was really one of those situations that could go either way…

Curt— if he was right in trusting his instincts and believing that he'd found him— had broken. That meant that he was injured beyond comprehension, and part of that thought was what tipped him over to the side of unfiltered rage. After that, it was a flash of knowing what needed to be done, and knowing how to do it. His pace quickened, his breath sturdy, his mind focused… Owen was unshakable, and definitely no cause for competition. Those who were unfortunate enough to get in his way found themselves gravely injured at the hands of his aim, even those who thought themselves lucky enough to have escaped him by running down the corridor.

He stopped at nothing and nobody; there was not one obstacle that could get in the way of a man like him, on a mission like this.

It took an apparent maze of corridors before he managed to break open a door that led him directly to the one thing that made this whole thing worth it. Heaving a breath as he scanned the room, he finally— finally— laid eyes on the man who had been inadvertently guiding him towards his location the longer he was in pain.

Curt.

And he was a mess. Blood poured from his temple down the side of his face, and there was a sizeable gash running his shoulder and tearing the fabric of his shirt. He looked up when the door was thrown open, and his eyes went wide. He tried to fight showing how relieved he was, but it was hard to do that when his face was such an open book, when he was so relieved to see his partner.

Owen made a signal— a sign that all of this would be over in a matter of minutes— and levelled his pistol. One breath, and the man closest to Curt had fallen, a crimson river pouring from his forehead. Another, and the man advancing on him had fallen victim to a couple of sizeable holes to the chest in quick succession. A third, and Owen had stolen a knife from one of the fallen, and he was looking for the best angle to break Curt's ties so they could leave as fast as possible.

The knife didn't make easy work of the thick cord keeping Curt in place, but Owen found a good angle as he crouched closer to the ground, and managed to get Curt free before anyone else found out he was there.

His breath came out shallow, he was clawing at the last scraps of the rage, fighting not to let it subside into concern too early. But, on the other hand, the concern was justified too, because every time his gaze darted over Curt, he saw something else worth noting. Now was not the time to think about that, not until there was a solid guarantee that they could both get out of there safe, and there was a clear window for curt to get back to his agency.

"Can you stand?" He asked, as softly as he could manage it.

Curt nodded initially, but then realised how much he had been overestimating his own abilities, when he actually tried to stand and Owen had to rush to his side to stop him collapsing. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, Owen could see them from this close. It gave just enough of a spark to that slight of fury that he had left, just enough to seep in a deep desire to see this place— and by extension, Michael Jenner— crumble until there was nothing left of it.

"How'd you… How'd you know?" Curt asked, looking up at him as they trailed the corridor Owen had come in through backwards.

"You wouldn't believe this, but Cynthia called me."

"Wait, seriously?"

Owen nodded. "Apparently I can be useful when I want to be."