#rip little canary man

[cattimeswithjellie]

And in "Accidental Killing For Fun And Profit" news today, Grian managed to kill his own teammates a staggering FOUR times in a single episode! You can't blame him too much for the MLG Bucket Miss, but his pathological need to push buttons and lead violent mobs into crowds is not getting any less dangerous as the series goes on.

[jinxs-gf]

The Human Spider

The Team x Spider!Reader

summary: you are this universe’s one and only spider-person.

warnings/content: set before the 1st episode of young justice s1, a few marvel references, this whole thing is from the perspective of the reader who’s basically Spider-Man so the writing is a bit silly…but I like it

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is essentially an introduction to this world, I’m really hoping I can pop a couple fics within this little universe 😭🙏🏽 if not then…I’m sorry LMAO. only time will tell. ENJOY!!!

Life was good.

I mean, how could it not be? You got to fight side by side with some of Earth's greatest heroes. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash...oh and Black Canary and—

Yeah. It was great. Not to mention how incredibly easy it was for you to defeat the bad guys you'd fought. You definitely didn't have four near death experiences because of them!

Well you did, but they were completely your fault and not at the hands of a couple of phony villains. They happened before you got used to your powers and gone through extensive training.

It seemed like a curse at first, but now you take them with stride. Your super strength foreign as you'd broke nearly everything in your apartment (that hadn't been a fun thing to explain to your Aunt and Uncle when they came home to a trashed place). Sticky hands well...getting stuck to literally everything. The amount of money you spent replacing your clothes after accidentally ripping up your whole closet only trying to get ready for school...that was also not fun explaining to your guardians.

And the webs. Oh boy. You didn't want to think about it. The hole in your wrist that shot out webs like a proper spider freaked you out the most. You nearly turned yourself in to the government after that one. It was something that took the most mental work to control, the weird hole (yuck) closing up when you didn't need it.

The one thing you did appreciate immediately was the abs. Yeah, those were nice to wake up to one morning.

Today was just another day in your life. A simple mission happening in the middle of the city. Actually it was a pretty unusual mission, it wasn't the regular Ice Family or Joker cult you were fighting...but a Rhino. Seemingly a man in a Rhino cosplay. And his henchmen? Definitely not something you see everyday, but you have seen weirder.

Speaking of his henchmen...there was a lot of them. Enough to keep each member of the team occupied. They had insanely advanced weaponry, surprisingly keeping the fight going for a while.

You hadn't realized so many of the guys were on you now, all surrounding you and trying to shoot at you with guns that weren't spitting out regular bullets.

You look to your side and see your best friend (he doesn't think so but that's what you tell everyone so deal with it sucker). Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, Roy Harper under the mask, and Pain in the Ass (a nickname you'd affectionately given him) to you.

You were in a compromising position, one that you could easily get yourself out of. But now you've spotted an unoccupied Roy and you wanted to have a little fun admist the chaos.

"Hey pain in my ass! A little help here!" The men were now taking shots with their fists, all failing to land their hits of course. And your best friend had completely ignored you.

"Hellooooo you know I'm talking to you!"

"I told you I wouldn't answer when you called me that. And I thought I made myself very clear." Definitely referring to the embarrassing way he took you down in front of the team after harassing him all week with the nickname a month ago.

"Well you answered right now soo...."

An arrow suddenly flew right past you, nearly grazing your cheek. A couple more followed.

"Um hello?! You nearly took me out!"

"That's my way of saying cut it out while saving your ass. And don't your spidey senses detect that kind of stuff? Danger and threats? You should've seen them coming."

"Huh. Guess you aren't as threatening as you think you are. At least not with that silly little hat on."

He simply glared at you. He was definitely going to kick your ass later. (Again).

With your guys dealt with, you turned to watch as Flash and Kid Flash emptied out a school bus on the road. Well, watched was a strong word. The job was done before you could fully process what was happening.

And suddenly that same school bus was being throw your way by the Rhino-man. Directly above your head actually.

Uh oh.

CRASH!

This was the third time that's happened to you this week!

He had good aim, you'll admit. It landed on you perfectly, but thanks to your incredible strength he seemingly didn't know about (how could he not? You're literally the Spider-Person from tv! Spider-Person...pfft what a stupid name. No one seemed to come up with something better), the biggest indicator to this being his shocked face. Oh how you loved that look. You threw it right back at him. Jokes on Rhino-man, you also had incredible aim.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a school bus to take me out!" Although you could feel the nearly broken rib and bruises you'd need to get checked out before you went home today.

You sighed happily, dusting your hands, "light work to me. Maybe try one of those city buses next time? Might be heavier and more effective-"

The words barely left your mouth before a city bus was being throw at you, "Wait I didn't actually mean it!" You caught the bus this time. And although your senses knew the danger was coming, it was still a bus that caught you off guard with its weight. Your legs and arms quivered at the force of having to hold it up, you could feel every bruise spotted on your body with the strain and it was not fun. While your body healed faster than the average human, it definitely wasn't fast enough to recover from the previous hit.

The back of the bus was fully tipped to the sky. You prayed there was no one in this thing. And sure you were strong, but there was no way you could tip it back on its wheels without potentially hurting someone.

Luckily Superman helped you with that, seeing you struggle. He easily took it off your hands (show off) and maneuvered it so it was placed safely back on the road.

"Thanks Supes!" He gave a nod and his famous smile.

It was only a couple more minutes of fighting and cars being thrown around before the whole thing was wrapped up. The adults would give their words to the police and news reporters, blah blah blah...

While they did that, you and your best friends, the teens (the cooler ones) got together like you always did after a mission.

Superman is being interviewed by the infamous Lois Lane (the talk of the teen team, there was definitely tension there).

All while Wally stands a little behind them making faces and ridiculous poses for the camera. The rest of you stood out of shot either cackling or rolling your eyes.

Wally steps back, clearly offended. "What? All he's doing is flirting with her in front of a live audience. Remember what they said last time? No one's gonna be paying attention to me."

Robin snickers, "What? The whole 'no one can take Superman' 'but you sure can'?" He repeats their words in poorly done impressions.

"That was totally an innuendo!"

"Very mature KF."

"Hey! Robin and Spider laughed with me. And I saw Speedy’s smirk, he sat there trying to pretend he didn't find it funny. Maybe you should get that stick out of your ass, Aqualad?"

Roy, completely serious, replies, "Now that's no way to talk to the adults' favorite."

You perk up, "oh, me?"

Your friends immediately explode into disagreement, apparently in disbelief you'd think such a thing.

It was a simple story, how it all came to be. You got bit by a spider (totally cool about it).

Totally didn't scream your ass off because of it and stay paranoid the rest of the day, constantly thinking there was a creepy crawler on you...no. You found out the next day that you weren't actually paranoid—if you were in the first place, which you were not! Because apparently the spider had camped out in your clothes all day and night...

You totally didn't scream your ass off again that morning at the revelation.

You did scream at the sight of abs on your body that same morning though. And that's the only reason you'll ever thank the spider, forget the cool powers.

After that you thought it would be cool to use your powers for good, inspired by your uncle. You decided to have your own cool hero costume, symbol, and name (which you still haven't gotten. You originally thought of the Human Spider. People on the streets called it dumb, claiming they would not be calling you that). You had (unfortunately) been (TEMPORARILY!) named the Spider-Person. Which was insanely stupid and you needed to come up with something quick before it stuck completely. Maybe the Human Spider wasn't so good but it wasn't as bad as your unofficial name now!

Anyways, as for the cool hero costume. You had to use what you had at the time, which was...your normal clothes. Getting a costume online seemed cheap, and dressing up as an existing character in the media and saving people seemed wrong. It would only deny your identity as a hero. So you put on whatever clothes (mostly colorful pajamas) that you had, covered the bottom half of your face with a bandanna, and called it a night. And boy did that get you a lot of ridicule, but you got the job done, right? The only thing it didn't do was protect your body from scrapes and...stab wounds. You hated little knives.

You're not the smartest in the world and it's not like you had the money someone like Bruce Wayne could pull out of their ass and make cool superhero wear.

Once you were recruited by Batman, he gave you your own hero costume—no, suit. Every suggestion you made was followed. It was perfect. The mask had to be your favorite part though. Something you didn't suggest was the some type of magic on it, something called hammerspace. Basically you could have any type of hair, or ears...probably even a pair of headphones on your head and it won't show through. It'll seemingly disappear to this hammerspace (you weren't sure how it worked exactly, but it works nonetheless so you won't question it). The magic was done by a team member who was needed very rarely named Zatara. Another man with a silly hat on his head.

You attempted to try it with Batman to see if his bat ears would disappear (which was completely encouraged by Robin by the way. No- completely his idea!) He was not happy. (You got benched for a month...no patrols, no missions...and Robin got off scott-free! How was that fair?!)

Wally starts to bring up your part of the fight, specifically the bus incident.

"Hey isn't that the third time that's happened to you this week?"

You sigh, exasperated and playing it up, "yes."

Robin butts in before you could say anything more, "Couldn't you have caught them? Y'know with your spidey senses and incredible strength?" He has the nastiest smirk on his face. His smartass totally figured you out.

"Well yeah, duh. But it's fun seeing the looks on the bad guys' faces when they realize I'm not dead and I can carry a however many pound bus! Is that so bad?"

"No but it's embarrassing for us."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yeah, our best friend who's powers include crazy senses that gives them insane reflexes? That best friend can't catch a big, yellow bus being thrown at them? Embarrassing." The one time Roy will take the claim as your best friend is when he's insulting you? Unsurprising.

Kaldur cut in, sensing your defense a mile away, "It is pretty shameful of you."

Your jaw dropped, even Kaldur of all of people was agreeing? Oh this is insane!

You point a figure at your friends, trying to get your threat across, "Well I find that incredibly offensive and you should all take that back before I-"

"Isn't the point of your powers to detect danger before it comes? How come that's the third time this week you've been hit by a school bus? It's embarrassing, Spider." Batman's monotone voice made his words all the more insulting. Your frown deepened.

You sigh, "Yup. Real embarrassing for me. I got that."

"No, embarrassing for me. I've got a reputation to keep up."

He walks away without another word.

"I can't tell if he was trying to joke around like you guys were, but I'm still offended."

"He was being dead serious. And for the record, so were we."

I wrote this before I wrote my Conner fic. I just realized I made Batman tease reader at the end of both fics…??

[blueboybot]

Your Husband Is A What?

Damian/Duke is trapped in a weapon (like one of those cool big ass anime swords) and it's up to Danny to get him back to normal.

Travelling back to the past seemed fun but unfortunately all the other heroes think he's a little crazy, and yes, he may have a few screws loose but his husband really is trapped in this weapon damnit.

_______

How they met could be made into a book with the title Love At First Fight, because that's exactly how they met each other.

Danny had taken a route that was basically a dark alley, so there really wasn't no surprise when a couple of guys tried to rob him. Well, Danny was not one to back down and with a trusty steel pipe he found right next to the dumpster he began taking them down.

In the aftermath Danny's jeans had become ripped jeans but he wasn't sure if they could be considered proper clothing to wear anymore, which pissed him off so he got one more hit in with the steel pipe to the nearest man next to him.

Footsteps as light as they were still alerted Danny to one more thief in his vicinity. Without much hesitation he turned swiftly and dashed towards his opponent. Steel meet steel as his attacker counteracted his attack with a weapon of their own. Danny still had powers though, so using a bit more strength he sent the other's weapon flying in another direction, giving him the opportunity to strike.

He didn't know when he lost his own weapon but somehow him and his attacker were now fist fighting on the floor. It was only after the adreneline had calmed down somewhat that Danny was able to see he was fighting one of Gotham's heroes.

Quickly separating himself from the hero he profusely apologised before dashing off to deal with the action of beating up one of his favorite heroes.

What followed afterwards were a series of events that always ended up with the two meeting each other and engaging in a 'battle' of sorts. One thing led to another and for some reason they ended up kissing in the same dark alley they first met, away from any prying eyes. After that night things changed significantly.

Danny always knew the indentity of the one that became his love because of the otherness he could feel beneath their skin that reminded him of himself and eventually he told them about Phantom.

It took a lot more meet ups in secret before they were finally comfortable enough to officially meet each other's family and it had gone a lot better than they were expecting.

Sometimes they would help each other out on missions and this time was no different. They were dealing with another crazy magician who thought he could take over the world by using the power of an ancient deity. They managed to stop him but before he could be detained he fired of one more spell that trapped his boyfriend in his weapon and used some sort or artifact to send them careening through a portal.

Luckily for them they ended up with the JL, unluckily for them no one seems to know who they are.

____________

Flash: Are we sure he should be in the watchtower?

Black Canary: He's not doing anything bad, look at him.

Phantom using his lover as a swing: ^o^

Green Arrow: He thinks that's his husband trapped in there.

Black Canary: He could be.

Flash: How old is he anyways, he looks too young to be married.

Superman: C'mon everyone let's not talk about him while he's right there.

Greenlantern: Look at him! Does it looks like he cares?

Phantom still using his lover as a swing: ( ≧ᗜ≦)

Superman: It's still rude.

____________

Based slightly off of Aba from Guilty Gear.

I imagine Danny pulling a Sayaka (from Madoka Magica) and stabbing the sword through him for a power-up and everyone panics for a hot minute before realizing he's fine.

[s6lars]

happy bday bb!!!! i missed you so much i’m so happy i found your account! do you think you could just do a headcanon of how pedri is as a bf! it’s up to you if you want to include smut

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 📂 pedri as a boyfriend …

contains smut, minors dni.

— the meeting.

he was back home in the canaries and met you a house party one of his mates had hosted

it honestly was just an instant connection

he had gone around talking to different ppl throughout the night but the second he started talking to you …

you were the last person he spoke to. bcs he would not speak w anyone else

but after that it was mostly silence, and he was sad bcs he rlly wanted to get closer

when he was back in barcelona, he found out you lived there too

and after some time and a million encouragements from fer

he had the courage to formally ask you out and you two hit it off not long after that

basically, a he fell first & he fell harder moment 🫶🏼

— dating life.

this man is so gentle with you. just so soft spoken, so attentive, so caring

and let’s not forget how clingy he is

you could be doing anything — chores, just scrolling through your phone and he’ll sneak up behind you and bury his face in the crook of your neck

and he wouldn’t say a single word. just dead silent

but that means all he wants is cuddles and you’re more than happy to oblige !

lets you go in his closet and steals whatever you want. genuinely half your closet is just his hoodies and t-shirts now

speaking of his closet, when you first got your hands on it, you were appalled to say the least. but you’ve since gotten it under control and no more ripped skinny jeans it is

in my eyes, pedri’s love language is quality times.

so when he has the time, it’s date night almost every single week ! renting out literally the whole restaurant so it’s more intimate and romantic

when he’s a bit busier, he does it in other ways

he’ll hire a private chef fer to his house, decorate the dining room with flowers

speaking of …

gifts. always. constantly. and spontaneously!

he’ll ask you what you want for your birthday, or christmas, etc — and you always say you don’t want anything. but then a few days later, you’ll get texts like: “gold or silver?” “what size shoe are you?” “do you like clutches or purses more?”

he’s a simple guy, he’s not flashy, and unless it’s for a new phone or a new car he hates splurging. but when it’s with you, then it’s a whole other story.

loveeees showing you off to his family and friends

he’ll run late to lunch with his friends and say something like, “sorry, my girl was too clingy this morning.”

and they’ll all be fake disgusted but he loves it

oh and about pet names

mi mujer — my woman, when addressing you, it’s his go-to.

and bebé for when he’s speaking to you directly

— the launch.

pedri is famous, which means one way or another, the public will have to know about you guys.

pedri is generally a private guy so i think he’ll let it out slowly

which means … soft launch !

it starts with a goal dedication, he makes your initial with his hands and blows a kiss to the camera

and ppl are instantly like whoa. who was that for

and then it picks up

he posts holiday pics and there’s little bits and pieces of you in them

your hair creeping in a mirror selfie, your manicured hands on a steering wheel, your reflection off of a mirror in a restaurant

and now it gets real serious

fans catch him with a girl as his wallpaper but your face is covered by his hand holding the phone

the bomb drops when he posts a pic on his story. it’s a mirror selfie, you’re both dressed up, and you’re the one taking it. he’s standing behind you, one hand across your abdomen.

both your faces are cropped out. still, ppl are like yeah, he has a girl it’s confirmed

finally, he post a whole dump for you, probably for something special like your birthday and he lets the world know he’s yours !

— the spice.

remember when i said pedri was very gentle earlier?

well he can definitely pull a 180 in bed

i see him as more of a switch, and it depends on his mood

at the start of the relationship, when you were navigating what you both enjoyed in bed, you had to guide him a lot

and that’s when you found out he loves being praised, and asking you to praise him

“does that feel good?” “fuck, right there, yeah?” “like this?”

and when he’s not in control he doesn’t shy away from letting you know how good you’re making him feel, always in your ear

ok but let’s get into how he is when he’s in control

generally at first your sex was pretty vanilla, but you were so tired from work one day and just needed to let it all out

and pedri delivered — he had you bent over the couch, and when you thought you were done, he carried you to his room and made you watch in the mirror as you took him

it was unexpected. but not unwelcome

has a thing for when you tug his hair or leaves scratches on his back. it hurts, but it eggs him on further

and if he's really feeling confident, like if he just won a final or scored an important goal, his stamina is quadrupled. you're not stopping until your legs physically give out

always, always makes sure you get aftercare, even if he can barely stay awake himself

even if it's as simple as just getting you something to drink or standing next to you while you're in the bathroom afterwards, he just wants to let you know that he cares about you

gets super cocky the morning after. especially if he sees you limp a bit

you'll tell him off because you'll have to be at work or smth and he'd sit there with a grin and say, "you were the one who kept begging, harder, please—" (you'd throw a pillow in his face before he could continue)

but it's fine, the morning sex makes up for it ♡

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

i can see you (javier peña's version)

pairing: javier peña x dea agent!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ mdni)

word count: 3.4k

summary:

when javier peña takes credit for your lead, you take revenge.

good thing you know javier can't resist a girl in red lipstick.

author's note:

first javier fic, based on taylor swift's "i can see you". if you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging! gif by @pedropascalito

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), dub con - sexual activity under the influence of alcohol, alcohol consumption, no use of y/n, female masturbation, oral sex - male receiving, dirty talk, praise, lots of lipstick kink, pet names, sex while standing, teasing, semi-public sex (file room at work), vaginal fingering, mouth covering. please let me know if i've missed any!

You storm into the office, boots clicking on the linoleum as you make a beeline for Javier’s messy desk. He’s on the phone as you approach, ever present cigarette dangling from his lips as he speaks to whomever is on the other end of the line. You rip the receiver from his hand and slam it into the cradle.

“What the fuck?” Javier snaps, stubbing out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. “What if that had been an important call?”

“Fuck you, Peña,” you hiss, planting your hands on his desk with enough force that several papers slip from precarious piles to the floor. “Where the fuck do you get off taking credit for my lead?”

His eyebrows go up, his lips tilting in a condescending smirk that you want to smack right off his face. “That’s what this is about? We’re a team, alacránita. It was our lead.” 

Little scorpion, he calls you, because of your quick temper. He uses it when he wants you riled up, wants you angry at him, because what else is a scorpion to do but fight back when provoked?

“Oh, really? So, you were the one who stayed up ‘til three in the morning reading transcriptions, huh?” You tap your chin. “No, wait. That was me.”

Javier stands, grabbing his gun from the desk and tucking it into the waist of his jeans at his back. The action has his button down shirt stretching right across his chest and your eyes linger on the view. When you meet his gaze again you know you’ve been caught, the insufferable man grinning like a cat that got the canary. 

“Look, do you want to keep arguing or do you want to actually do something with your intel and go catch some narcos?” He asks, breezing by you. You grind your teeth together as you watch him leave.

“If it’s any consolation—“ Steve starts to say, but you cut him off.

“Shut up, Murphy.”

That night after a long day of work and one beer too many you find yourself staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, your thoughts drifting to Javier and his annoying smirk and the stupid way he carries his gun and his dumb aviators and his gorgeous brown eyes and how good he feels between your—

Fuck.

You try not to think about the first time you met Javier Peña. The real first time, not the awkward handshake and forced smile as he introduced himself as Agent Peña. 

The first time, when he sat beside you at a bar and introduced himself as Javi and you thought that it must be a common enough name, there was no way this handsome stranger was your soon-to-be partner. He told you he worked in environmental services and you claimed to be a teacher. He bought you a drink and his eyes never left your mouth as you wrapped your red lips around a beer bottle. 

A couple hours of conversation later, his hand slid to your knee and he looked at you with brown eyes full of fire as his fingers curled into the flesh of your thigh exposed by your skirt. He asked if you wanted to go someplace more quiet and when you said your apartment was across the street, his smile was full of promise.

As your mind replays the memory in vivid detail, you slide your hand beneath the elastic of your panties, hissing as your fingertips graze your sensitive clit. You circle the bundle of nerves slowly as you continue to imagine that night.

You think back to the feel of his hand in yours as you dashed across the street to your apartment building, how he pressed against your back and nipped at your neck as you unlocked your door. He made a comment about the boxes still scattered around your apartment, some joke you can’t remember as desire fizzles through your veins. 

“These pretty red lips,” he said, pulling you close and tracing his thumb along your bottom lip. “Been staring at them all night, wondering how they would look stretched around my cock.”

“I could show you,” you responded, sliding your hands down his chest until your fingers encountered the cold metal of his belt buckle. You unfastened it, pulling the leather loose from his sinfully tight jeans and tossing it to the floor. “If you’d like?”

“Get on your knees,” Javier said as he unbuttoned his fly, working the waist of his jeans down enough to free his hard cock from the denim. You dropped to your knees quickly and his dark laugh echoed through the room. “Stick your tongue out, baby.”

You remember the salty taste of him on your tongue, the way he slowly fed his thick length into your mouth as you gazed up at him from your position at his feet. Your fingers circle your clit faster as you think about how he’d traced your lips where they stretched around his cock with his thumb, gently pushing at the corner of your mouth. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled. You whine at the memory as you inch closer to your release with each swipe of your hand. “Mouth built for sin, isn’t that right?”

You plunge two fingers inside of you with mounting desperation as your mind continues to replay the memory like a movie - the way his dark eyes fixated on the slide of his cock in and out of your mouth, the intoxicating sounds that spilled from his lips, and how he had pulled back from you when he was close to finishing to show you the lipstick stains you’d left behind.

“Dirty fucking girl,” he said, dragging you up from the floor and kissing you breathless. 

It’s the memory of his lips pressed to yours that pushes you over the edge, your cunt pulsing around your fingers as you shatter, biting back Javier’s name as it claws its way up your throat. In the aftermath, staring up at your ceiling, a thought pops into your head.

You know just how to get Javier back for taking credit for your lead.

As a field agent for the DEA, it’s not often you wear more than jeans, a blouse, and a practical pair of boots to work. After all, carrying a sidearm in a dress or running in heels isn’t ideal. 

Today, however, you’re willing to make an exception. With a series of meetings on the calendar this afternoon, the risk of jeopardizing your work for the sake of fashion is, thankfully, slim.

You’ve put on your tightest dress, black polyester hugging your curves and balancing the fine line of work appropriate. The heels you dug out of your closet make your ass look fantastic but the cherry on top of the whole ensemble is the bright red lipstick you slicked on with careful precision.

Steve does a double take as you enter the cluttered office space, your heels clicking on the linoleum. Javier is at his desk, his back turned to you as he speaks to someone on the phone.

“Lookin’, uh, lookin’ good,” Steve says with a cough. “Did I miss a memo or somethin’?”

“Nope,” you reply, your lips popping in emphasis. 

You hear the click of the phone being placed back in its cradle with impressive force. You try to keep your eyes focused on the file you’ve got open on your desk but you can feel Javier’s heated gaze burning over your skin. You glance up, briefly, but it’s enough for you to find his dark gaze and see the tense cut of his jaw as he grinds his teeth together.

Once the meetings start rolling, you don’t have much opportunity to think about Javier, but you know he’s thinking about you. You have fun with the attention, leaning forward to make sure the man can get a good view down your dress, biting the cap of your pen, and licking your lips after each sip of coffee. With each new tease, you notice the way his hand curls into a tight fist on the table or how he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

When Messina asks him a question, the usually calm and collected man stutters his response, earning him a raised eyebrow from the woman in charge. You have to bite back a satisfied laugh at his expense, watching as his neck turns a blotchy red in his embarrassment. 

Once the meeting is over, you’re discussing the next plan of action with Steve as you leave the boardroom, Javier trailing behind the two of you. Steve asks Javier a question and a glance over your shoulder earns you the satisfaction of knowing he had been staring at your ass, his head snapping up so fast a flinch of pain flashes across his features as he replies to Steve.

Working through the pile of paperwork on your desk comes with the ever present weight of Javier’s gaze on you from across the room. He fields phone calls most of the morning, cigarette held to his lips as he converses in smooth, rapid fire Spanish that has you pressing your thighs together beneath your desk. 

When he turns away, you grab a stray piece of blank paper and scribble a note before lifting it to your face to press a red kiss mark to the smooth surface. You fold it twice and keep it held tight in your hand as you stand and saunter over to Javier’s desk. 

His dark eyes are fixed to the extra sway in your step as you approach, his grip tightening around the receiver. You set the note on his desk, leaning over just slightly to slide it across the wood towards him. You tap it once before straightening and walking back to your desk to resume your work, watching Javier from the corner of your eye as he unfolds the note.

Stop staring.

Javier crumples the note in his fist in frustration, keeping it pressed to his palm as he frees another cigarette from the pack on his desk. The rush of nicotine in his veins mingles with the white hot lust he’s been trying to beat down ever since he caught sight of you in that tight little dress, and you’ve not been making it easy.

You never make it easy. Ever since walking into work six months ago to a face that shouldn’t have been familiar sitting behind his new partner’s desk, he’s been fighting to remain professional. It doesn’t help that you’re one of the best agents he’s ever worked with - smart, resourceful, and capable of standing up to men trying to pull rank on you.

Today is testing his patience. The dress and heels are one thing, but the lipstick? That’s a low blow. All he can think about is the last time he saw you wear it, that night at the bar that turned into that night in your bed, all the pretty red color faded from your lips because you marked his cock with it instead. He spent the entire meeting with Messina trying not to watch the way you wrapped your lips around the tip of your pen, thoughts drifting to what it would be like to have you on your knees again, staring up at him with less venom and more desire.

He sets the note on his desk, pointedly ignoring it while you’re in the room. He knows you’re looking for a reaction and he’s not going to give you the satisfaction of one.

At least, not yet.

“Murphy, you still need that file we talked about? I’ve got another to pull,” you announce, standing from your seat. The blonde man looks up and nods.

“Yeah, see if you can find it while you’re in there,” Steve replies. You give him a little salute of acknowledgment before leaving the shared office space and making your way to the file room.

Once inside the windowless room at the end of the hall, you pull on the cord connected to the singular lightbulb in the ceiling meant to illuminate the dank space. It smells like paper and dust and it constantly looks like a bomb went off - cabinets half closed with how much has been shoved inside of them, stray stacks of folders that someone couldn’t be bothered to return to their proper place, and a wastebasket overflowing with crumpled paper. 

You lose yourself to the task of locating the files you and Steve needed, distracted enough that you don’t hear the click of the door opening and shutting behind you. It’s not until there’s a low murmur of your name in a hauntingly familiar timbre so you realize you’re not alone.

You turn to find Javier standing in front of the file room door, dark eyes fixed on you as he removes his suit jacket and drops it to the floor. Your mouth goes dry as he rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, exposing deliciously tan forearms and muscles that flex hypnotically. 

“My eyes are up here, baby,” he says, a smirk on his lips that sends anger through your veins but lust to your belly. 

“What do you want, Peña?” You ask. Your voice wavers the slightest bit and you hope he doesn’t notice, but the tilt to his head and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips says otherwise.

“I think the question is, what do you want?” He’s standing toe to toe with you now, your back pressed against a metal cabinet. “Or do you need me to show you?”

“Show me what?”

Javier chuckles. “What playing with fire will get you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, tilting your chin defiantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us have work to do that doesn’t involve harassing our coworkers.” 

But he doesn’t back up, doesn’t give you the room to breathe that you so desperately need. Instead his large hand cups your hip, sliding slowly up your body, a trail of heat running from your waist to your breast until his palm settles against your neck. He rubs his thumb across your lips.

“What do you call wearing this, then?” He holds his thumb up for you to see the smear of red across his skin. “We both know what you were thinking when you put it on this morning, cariño.”

He presses his thumb to your lips, slipping it inside your mouth this time. You give the digit a tentative suck as he presses it forward and back across your tongue, a crude approximation of the memory that replayed in your head as you touched yourself. 

Javier smiles triumphantly and you can feel his other hand working at the hem of your dress, hiking it up higher until his fingers skim the bare skin of your thighs. 

“Tell me to touch you,” he demands, pulling his thumb free from your mouth. You press your lips together, fighting the overwhelming need to give into him as his knuckle skims your pussy through the fabric of your panties. “Stubborn alacránita,” he growls, circling your clit harshly and making you cry out.

His palm covers your mouth, your eyes going wide as he continues his tortuous attention. “Tell me to touch you,” he says again, brow pinched as his eyes search yours. It hits you that this man is just as desperate for you as you are for him, and the rush that knowledge gives you has you nodding your head.

He removes his palm, cupping your cheek and pressing his forehead to yours before whispering into the space between your mouths, “Say it.”

“Touch me, Javier,” you murmur, rolling your hips into his hand. “Please.”

He wastes no further time, hand slipping under the elastic of your panties and dragging through your slick folds. He grins at you, boyish and feral in equal measure as he slips a thick finger inside of you while his thumb presses to your clit. 

“Christ, so fucking wet for me already, huh? Sitting at your desk getting worked up thinking about pulling one over on me with this little dress?” He adds a second finger and the stretch of it makes you moan, his palm returning to cover your mouth. “If this is your idea of a punishment for that lead, I’m not feeling too apologetic.”

You try to glare at him but the curl of his fingers inside of you and the press of his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves has your eyes rolling back instead, your head hitting the cabinet behind you. Your hips chase his hand with each pump of his fingers and it doesn’t take long for that wave of pleasure to crash over you, your muscles going tight as you pulse around him and your chest heaves with deep breaths you can only take through your nose thanks to his tight grip on your mouth. 

Javier murmurs praise into your ear that you barely register as you come down from your high. He removes his hands from you to unbuckle his belt, freeing his hard cock that you only get a glimpse of before he’s urging you to turn around, pulling your hips back toward him and moving your panties out of the way. He runs the head of his cock through the mess he’s made of you before positioning himself at your entrance and pressing in, in, in.

You brace yourself against the filing cabinet, the sheer size of him making you gasp as he bottoms out. He smoothes a hand down your spine, giving you a moment to adjust before drawing his hips back and slamming forward with a sharp thrust.

Javier reaches up to grip your shoulder, giving himself more leverage as he pounds into you, using your body to chase his pleasure. You bite your lip to stifle your own sounds as the room echoes with the snap of his hips against yours and the grunts he can’t contain. The hand on your shoulder moves to your throat, pulling you up and arching your back until he’s holding you against his chest.

You turn your face over your shoulder and his lips crash against yours, his teeth digging into your bottom lip and making you whimper.

“Cum for me,” Javier commands, the hand on your hip moving to circle your clit again. As you start to pulse around him, he smiles against your lips. “Fuck, that’s it. Just like that, baby.”

Javier presses himself deep as his own release courses through him, filling you to the brim with warmth and stealing your breath. He kisses your shoulder, a sweet gesture that’s so at odds with what you’ve just done.

When he starts to go soft, he pulls out and fixes your underwear into place before smoothing the skirt of your dress back down your hips, the sound of him buckling his belt following suit. You turn to face him, prepared for some sort of self-satisfied remark from the egotistical man, but to your surprise he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you towards him for a deep kiss.

As he draws back and your eyes flutter open, you notice the smear of red across his lips, the sight making you smile. You lick your thumb, using the moisture to rub away the remnant of your time together. 

“Thank you, alacránita,” he murmurs, gently grabbing your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm. You catch a glimpse of your watch, noting the time.

“Don’t you have a meeting right now?” You ask Javier. He checks his own watch.

“Fuck!” He hisses, grabbing his suit jacket and rushing from the file room, the door slamming shut behind him as you laugh and laugh and laugh.

Maybe your plan worked better than you expected, after all.

Javier slips inside the boardroom and takes the seat beside Steve as inconspicuous as possible, straightening his jacket and smoothing down his hair as he does. As he’s trying to focus on the words being thrown around the room, he feels a tap at his shoulder.

Steve leans closer to whisper, “What’s that all over your hand?”

He looks at the hand he’s rested on the table, noting the smear of red that extends from his palm to the thin skin between his thumb and forefinger. He clenches his hand into a fist and sets it in his lap instead.

“Nothing,” he replies.

[dailynoodlezz24]

Ok, i had the thought (since i love werewolves and vampire stuff, liches, all that-- I blame Skyrim and its unhealthy amount of beautiful mods-- and Dungeon Meshi just seems so perfect about it with its races and stuff) what if Marcille's a dhampir, basically a human vampire crossbreed, who seeks to become fully vampiric in order to be able to sire in lieu of the dungeon lord/universal longevity plot. (Spoilers: she still doesn't get it in the end lmao) Falin is a longtime friend of hers through a backstory I still haven't made up yet, and Marcille's introduced as a new addition to the main cast, who are a party of hikers (or for some sort of venturing activity). Month in, Falin's gone and had herself eaten by some weird dog described in only folklore, which Laios would later excitedly incite as a "lycanthrope". (They tried to call emergencies for a missing person, but they came up with nothing. Everyone thinks Laios is going insane when he concludes that the sight they saw after Falin became officially missing, blood trails and offly wolfish tracks fading off to somewhere, was the work of a wolfman, or a werewolf, and suggested going to search for Falin themselves. Namari and Toshiro leave promptly) Chillchuck and Marcille stay with him, one determined with his navigational skills and the other fully believing in this supernatural theory. They decide it's best they start camping in the forest, deeper and closer to the wilderness, prompting them the idea: hunt for their share. Which may or may not be illegal :shrug They meet Senshi, one hell of a wildchef man. (Marcille's total disgust with the idea of eating out in the wild stems from the fact she doesn't want to survive off of squirrels again. But this food is pretty good, and she's eating other animals than small rodents this time. Chillchuck just doesn't want to hear about the weird ass facts about how skinwalkers might be related to humans and their horrific hunting tendencies while eating.) The deeper they go, the more strange and bizarre this forest becomes. First normal, unassuming, then the ravens start speaking and the rabbits have horns. And if you peer into it close enough, your eyes might just find company in where the campfire doesn't reach. So on and so on, they find Falin's bones in the corpse of the creature, and suddenly there's a little guy with white hair and crazed, purple eyes(thistle), who beats them all off with a stick(not actually lmao). Last they see is Falin's remains being reanimated with the dripping blood of the stranger. (Marcille had tried in desperate attempt to revive Falin with her own blood/bite, but to no avail, revealing herself in the process. The only thing she can note is the awful taste of something doglike, aka the lycanthrope disease circulating in Falin's bones-- since they were chomped before she died RIP.) Now they're against a highly aggressive abomination under the servitude of someone out to get them. And the opps are on them(canaries) Now I'm just thinking abt whether or not to make Marcille also a werepyre? Considering it would make sense for her to also get her human-half infected into something "full-fledged" in the way she hadn't intended, and still come up without the ability to sire(she wants to make a cauldron for company, a cauldron being like a vampire made family, due to the same motives of keeping her loved ones). Thank you for reading my ramblings, I am brimming with ideas for this AU.

[stellocchia]

Thinking of Secret Life SMP hybrid headcanons right now...

Grian would be a parrotlet. They're the smallest group of parrots and I feel like with how pathetic he's been this season he deserves to be just a little guy. He's still a pesky bird who, as season 6 proved, can definitely cause some mischief despite his reduced size, but he's a little guy anyway.

Jimmy is not a canary. Because, yes, he may have the canary curse, but that's just a fancy name for the curse, not necessarily his hybrid type. No, my man is a dog. He's a goddamn chihuahua. He's all bark and annoying but you take a single threatening step toward him and he shivers in fear.

On the topic of dogs, Martyn is a pomeranian. I'm specifically making him a small dog too because, despite wanting to act cool at the end of session 6, he is still very much the one who was first on yellow and red. My man is not big dog-coded.

Now, unpopular opinion, but Scar is a raccoon hybrid. He's a mischievous chaotic menace of a man. A little criminal ready to scam, commit arson, kill, and steal. He's a raccoon. He hasn't burrowed under anyone's house yet (that I remember at least) but that wouldn't be out of character either. Honestly, I'm appalled by the fact that this isn't a far more popular headcanon for him.

And, before I move on from dogs, Etho is also dog-coded. Specifically an Akbash (big white golden retriever-looking fuckers used for the protection of livestock). I just feel like the protectiveness and overall vibe fit him very well.

Finally, moving on from dogs. Cleo is obviously a zombie hybrid. There are no two ways around it. Though this does allow for my little headcanon that, having to learn on their own skin how to sew they became really good and really quick and they're the ones making all the new outfits for everyone else.

Gem meanwhile is specifically a sculk hybrid. Though I like to think that that came about when she opened the portal. She was a deer hybrid before (mostly because I like the subversion of expectations with a "prey" hybrid so to speak being arguably the most bloodthirsty person on the server) and then it spread like an infection. I figure by now her infected half straight-up looks something like Belos monster for from TOH:

Scott is something like a Reakirt’s Blue Butterfly. Both because the colors match him, and because he is kinda The Social Butterfly. My man is always out and about mingling with others. He's so friendly that he literally didn't struggle to pull off the "love you" challenge when everyone admitted that no one else would have been able to. It would be a waste not to make him some kind of butterfly at least.

Now, for Impulse I have something less reasoned, I just think the idea of him being an imp called Impulse is way too funny to resist. And he is way more of a mischievous one than I usually see people talk about. I've seen the phasmophobia stream where he killed everyone with the cursed items several times in a row just because he wanted to try them out. I know what he's capable of.

Meawhile his bestie Skizz is so capibara coded it's unreal. Like, don't get me wrong, he's plenty chaotic. But also you will never find anyone more lawful good in the Life Series than him. I've been thinking this since Love Island was founded. My man is the king of chilling with everyone. (Aside from Jimmy, rip Jimmy).

At the risk of being boring, I also like seeing Tango as a salamander hybrid. Exclusively because of the mythological connection between salamanders and fire. Also, the idea that every time he's flying (though it's funnier if it's also when he's simply jumping) he's nothing but a ball of fire with a lizard tail is very funny to me.

BigB is a hard one because I've only watched a couple of episodes from his POV so I'm not quite as familiar with the lore surrounding him as I am with the others. So I'm not sure. I want to say enderman because of his cryptid vibes this season, but he's not one of the characters with the biggest connection to the end. Those are mostly BDubs, Gem, and Lizzie, so I don't know. I'm open to suggestions.

Talking about BDubs, why are there no ender dragon hybrid headcanons for him around? I think it would be incredibly ironic if the dragon slayer was a dragon himself. Also, his house is under the Earth just like the End portals. Trust me, it makes so much sense. He's small but so full of righteous anger.

Pearl is no hybrid, she's literally just a witch. I've seen the WITCH animatic and that fundamentally changed my view of her forever. Before I would have said a moth hybrid of some kind because I do like moth Pearl, but I love that specific interpretation so much it's unreal. She is a witch with an army of hellhounds at her back and call.

Mumbo is a vampire because I've seen some art of vampire Mumbo at some point in time and it hasn't left my head since. Also, he's one of the players with the highest bloodlust every time he turns red. We're 2 for 2 on that with his appearances in the Life series. And it's usually also what leads to his demise. So I feel like that would be fitting for a vampire.

Meanwhile, my dearly beloved blorbo Joel is a honey-badger. This is a headcanon that is incredibly dear to me and I've never seen around but it's literally SO FITTING. The absolute crackhead energy, the lack of self-preservation, and the surprising sturdiness as time and time again he gets himself in impossible situations and still manages to survive until pretty much the end are all that exact honey-badger vibe. Like, just thinking of him summoning a hoard of zombies to fight off several infected and surviving for quite a while in those conditions just, really proves my point. Enough said.

Lizzie meanwhile is a very sad sopping wet cat. Just absolutely miserable. One of those cats who look like they're constantly grumpy. The frown has deepened ever since no one came to her party and she's still frowning in the void of death.

[writingoddess1125]

The Canary

Me and stupid shit again

Support on Ko-Fi, I'm poor

"Ah, 50k in debt for a linguistic degree you didnt get while working at a grocery store- Can't get any better then that!"

You had said that morning- Your sarcasm rolling off your tongue like a goddammit curse as you headed off to work.

And yet here you are now...

Your ass tied up on the floor of the grocery store while men armed to the teeth walked around talking- you felt oddly fortunate however, these guys were clearly grunts at the bottom of the food chain in terms of 'bad guys' hell they were speaking a language you had studied so you could pick up what they were saying as well.

You had been in the meat section when the explosion went off- The cow statue having saved your ass from being turned into a tube of ground beef, but now you were a hostage..

Greaattt.

"Hamil told us we needed the hostages, 6 of them exactly for this while they set up the explosives down the block.. we just gotta wait for the signal" The man said in the different language. You taking mental note of this-

You spot a little girl and her mother among your fellow hostages, your heart breaking at rhe sight as you saw the man approach her. Her mother clearly trying to undo her child's rope and get her to slip away down the aisle. However pausing when one of the men approached her and the girl.

"Hamil said Makarov gave us the clear so we could do as we pleased as we wait right?" The man said, one of his peers rolling his eyes in disgust and calling him dirty.

"Whatever we got some time to kill" He grumbled, beginning to undo his belt as he grabbed the screaming mother who was trying to shield her daughter away from the possible assault. You sitting up fully at this point and your brain going on autopilot.

"Woah Woah Woah Man! Got that weak of game you have to rape some Mom now?!" You yelled, the man pausing his actions. Tossing the sobbing women away from him and marching to you angrily fixing his belt-

"What did you say?" He hissed angrily flashing his gun at you. "I'll fuck your mother how about that-"

He said angrily, You took note of all the men now staring at you and not at the other hostages- Keeping them distracted... maybe enough for the little girl to slip away?

"I've already fucked your mom asshole- I have her saved as slip and slide on my phone" You say with a crooked grin- A few of the men snickering at your joke, Oh Fuck Yeah!

"What did you say!? Do you not see the situation you're in now?" He growled.

"Aww can't take a joke big guy? Come one gotta lighten it up somehow-" You see in your peripherals the girl slipping away as you chattered.

"Got a big mouth huh? Why don't we put it to use?" He chimed, you really wanting to turn this guy away from molesting you or anyone else.

"Listen it would be a waste of space- like if you throw a hotdog in a cave" You chimed, smiling as he looked ready to rip you apart but instead punched you across the face. OWWW!!

"Is it BDSM tuesday?.. Eh not doing it for me though big guy maybe rub your nipples and give me a wink?" You say, His friend who had called his dirty giving a hearty laugh at this.

The man glared down at you and spit in your face, clearly wanting to kill you in some way but needed you and the others for their plan. You pretended to taste it like a fine wine, Looking him in the eye.

"Oh?~ Cock flavored spit?- New Age?" You chimed making the man face red as a tomato in rage as his mate to the left laughed.

"Was this a little self yoga or did Unicorn overthrew give a hand?"

He smacked you with his pistol making you cry out-

Fuck that hurt!!

You defiently had a cracked bone somewhere in your face and the fresh taste of blood in your mouth didn't exactly help those feelings.

"Say something smart now!" He yelled angrily.

"A pistol whip!? What is this 1995? Give your balls a tug you tit fucker! Or are they so shriveled up you can't grab them?" You say with a smile, the man grabbing your collar and pressing the gun to your temple.

"I no longer care what Hamil wants! I'm killing this little bastard!" He screamed, you wincing at his breath.

"You can't! I don't want Makarov on my ass!" His peer yelled ready to pry him off you.

"Just put a sock in their mouth or something if they are bitching that much!"

"Well if you're gonna kill me so close a breath mint would be nice? You do realize Tiktacs aren't just a penis size right?" You chuckle nervously, you eyes catching a shadow moving behind the men now all staring at you. Their backs turned to the shadows.

"You know what- I'll shut up after one last joke? Eh?" You say nervously, The man yous been tormenting cocking his gun- you see a man silently stalk out, a skull mask covering his face as 4 others moved in perfect formation behind him.

"No more fucking jokes!" He yells, rage in his eyes.

"Okay- But I tried" You say cheerfully before closing your eyes. In seconds gunfire went off around you and quick screams surrounded you.

"Clear!" You hear sounded as you crack open your eye to take a peak.

"Holy fuck-" You sigh out and give a nervous laugh. Looking at the dead men now littering the ground as the soilders file into the area quickly-

The guy in the skullmask- The one who you spotted getting into position behind the guys comes to you and undoes the rope around your wrist in record time as the other men do the same to your fellow hostages.

"A medic will be here soon to check over your injuries" He said in a surprisingly deep voice- accident not lost on your either. He reached a hand down to either help you up or pick you up to extract you from the area.

You grab the man's vest quickly to stop him before he could, He stares at you hard in confusion.

"Listen, Those guys said that there were bombs down the block and were waiting for a signal. They have others- I can understand them and thwy said they followed someone name Hamil who talks to Makarov... I-Im a linguists and um.. can understand them" You say quickly, The masked man narrows his eyes at this and speaks into a radio on his side.

"We have info that more bombs are down the block- Scout the area and evacuate further" he said as he went back to helping you up. A quick thanks leaving your lips as you pulled off your work hoodie and passed it to the mother to cover her up.

The men escorting you out of the grocery store.

"Got to say, never seen a Canary get the best of those guys-" The Mohawk guy said with a smirk on his face, supporting a old man who clearly had a broken foot.

"Gotta use my gifts somehow- and Canary?" You shot back,

"Always fuckin' churpin" He said with a smile. A laugh now coming from you as you nod. Once outside the medics quickly swarmed all of you and prepared to take you all to the hospital.

You spot the masked guy again- Giving him a head nod. "Thank you Mr. Spooky!" You call out rather loudly- earning a amused glare from the man who rolled his eyes.

"....Your quips- Were... quite amusing.." He said calmly, You looking at the hardened man with a smile on your busted face- The others in his little boy band also cracking some smirks as they walked off finishing their jobs- which you assumed was down the block.

You give a bow of your head in a mildly dramatic flare. Wanting a shot and a nap at this point as the

"Glad my show went well"

Bonus!

- The little girl got out and went to the police that were waiting outside- explaining what you were doing and immediately getting checked over by medica

- TK141 had actually gotten to your location a little earlier then when you saw. However Soap had to stop everyone since he almost fell out at the cock flavored spit take.

- The whole team had been laughing on the inside or holding back laughter the whole time they heard you chirping at the men holding you hostage.

- The Nickname 'Mr. Spooky' will follow poor Ghost for the next few months-

[verdemoun]

Pspspsps! Just food for thought about pets inspired by your wonderful precious amazing incredible Micah art piece 🤭💕

In the modern au, I was imagining Baylock would be a dog, even though I can honestly see Micah being a cat guy because they’re so independent. Maybe he’s a pittie? Or some other “tough” breed that Micah gets to look badass, but Baylock is the sweetest puppy around. Micah tries to hose him outside to get him mean and “wake up his fighting spirit” but Baylock just gargles the water and does that pitbull lip flappy chomp on the hose

I think the Count would be a white Persian cat that Dutch constantly takes to shows. He takes priority over his actual human sons even though the Count would turn Dutch in to the cops for a piece of kibble

Bonus African Gray Parrot Silver Dollar that Hosea somehow inherited and adores nontheless

Thank you for all your amazing posts!!! You’re an inspiration mwah

If I'm an inspiration you're awe-inspiring poppet.

Micah has a doggo called Baymax! Pets don't get reincarnated though a lot of the gang named their pets after their horses (rip only Arthur has a horse). Baymax is a massive white bulldog mutt Micah got as a 6month puppy from a shelter 1. thinking puppy was his adult size and 2. because the name Baymax reminded him of Baylock. Baymax was clearly neglected and has many scars from either other dog attacks or abuse and was the most cowardly dog Micah could've picked up. Despite growing to a very respectable 110 lbs and absolutely striking fear into the hearts of parents of small children everywhere with his looks Baymax is the biggest sook. Micah claims he is a guard dog only for Baymax to cower behind him at the slightest hint of confrontation (another dog tried to sniff his butt). Micah is not afraid to babytalk his dog in front of the gang. Everyone knows what little mental stability Micah has is linked to that dog. Of course Micah will also pretend he has no emotional attachments to Baymax and call him a dirty mutt at gathering, to which Baymax happily bounces over because it's pretty much the nickname Micah uses when he's dropped food for his living vacuum to clean up. Micah only learned to use a stove so he could cook steak and hamburgers for his dog while he lives on take out and frozen microwave meals. Baymax loves the hose but also when Micah took him to the beach he had to teach his dog to swim. The only doggy life vest in store in Baymax's size was baby girl pink and Micah still insists Baymax looks terrifying in it.

Dutch is the bird man! He has an albino canary called the Countess that is his favorite. Yes he would probably blow off actually leaving the psych ward to see the gang if he was too busy fussing over his birds. He has every color of canary you can imagine because Dutch can only form emotional attachments to thing he can keep in a cage.

Hosea doesn't need a pet he has Kieran and Javier to look after. Similar to owning cats he needs to remind them when to eat, deal with 'i won't drink out of that glass i don't know how long the water was sitting there' 'how did you survive as an outlaw', and keeps a spray bottle on hand to stop them making out on the couch. Kieran however has chickens and Hosea has walked into the living room to find out Kieran snuck the chickens inside because it was raining. In Kieran's defense they're very domesticated chickens who will just sit on his lap while he's watching his shows.

[dairy-farmer]

The idea of Tim losing a bet and having to walk around topless so that Dick or Jason can grope his tits is rent free in my head. More so if they do it at like the penthouse or their apartment, inviting friends over to play with Tim’s tits because it’s part of the bet Timmy. (Not cause his face is so cute and they want to show off their little brother)

And like just… maybe Tim has a crush on one of them (Roy) and is really blushy which makes Dick or Jason upset because part of this had been to get Tim into the idea of liking HIM that way. So when the friends leave Dick or Jason decide they want to show Tim how much they care for him. In anyway they can.

yesssssssssss i LOVE roytim!!!!!!!! the idea of tim's brothers doing a rigged bet so they can have tim at their mercy. tim loses, of course, because he was always going to lose. and when he asks what they want he's expecting them to make him go streaking naked. he's not expecting them to tell tim to man the grill during one of their 'boys night' parties.

tim has heard of the parties, they're jointly thrown by dick and jason at some stupidly expensive property jason bought a few years back. the parties are a fratboy's dream and exactly what dick and jason love. tim's been invited out to them but always found an excuse not to go because the guest list was dick and jason's friends and tim know if he went he'd be subjected to all kinds of dunking, jokes, and harrassment.

so tim doesn't go.

but then he loses a bet. a bet where his brothers grin like two cats that have spotted a canary with a broken wing struggling to fly away.

they want tim to man the grill for the barbecue they're going to have. which...okay. it's easy enough. tim makes a mean burger and if his brothers and their friends irritate him too much he can just char the shit out of their hot dogs.

but there's a catch. they want him topless.

they want tim to wander around the pool, tits out, topping off lemonade, handing out beers, and bringing out plates of hamburgers and hotdogs.

tim is MORTIFIED at the thought. but he doesn't announce that and he doesn't try to back out. because tim's not about to pussy out of a bet. not when it will get him ripped on for life.

so tim doesn't put up a fight and the day of the bbq arrives and tim is there, grimacing and making margaritas in some board shorts and his tits on full display. he's getting FAR too many appreciative glances and whistles.

tim's tits are small, barely handfuls with pink nipples. yet jason and dick's friends are acting like they're a pack of horndog teenagers who have never seen tits before.

garth and joseph are both respectfully averting their eyes whenever tim comes in close but tim can feel their eyes on his back. tim gets groped a lot, hands come up and cup his tits and pinch at the sides and tim's hands are full most of the time so he can't shoo them away from him.

jason stands behind tim while he's at the grill and putting cheese slices on the burgers, he cups tim's baby tits the entire time, squeezing them and cooing about how his baby brother has the cutest tits in the world.

dick is more annoying. tim can hear the clear click from his camera going off every few seconds and has to keep reminding himself to not dump the 7 layer dip over his head. every time he shoots a dirty look at him, dick just gives a happy little wave and wink.

tim has no problem with this being his punishment for losing a bet.

until roy harper arrives, in a thin muscle tee that puts those arms sculpted by god himself on display.

tim has a...thing. okay?

some people like tits, some like ass- but tim?

oh arms. arms all the waaaay.

and roy's are the finest in the game- bar none.

the definition in his muscles, the thickness of his forearms, the way his hands are bigger than tim's face-

god. tim has had fantasies about those hands, has covered his face and giggled at the thought of those hands picking him up by his little waist. has cum again and again over the thought of those thick, calloused fingers sinking into the heat of his little hole.

god. tim wants roy harper so bad and it's only the distance and unfamiliarity between them that has saved him from humiliation.

but then roy harper is there. he's sitting in a lounge chair with his arms behind his head, flexing his firm abdomen, and letting out a sigh of relief and showing off the thick red bush growing on his pits and peeking out of the top of his swim trunks.

he's wearing red sporty sunglasses but tim can still feel his eyes as they lock on tim. he knows they are because roy starts grinning that cocky smirk that makes tim weak kneed.

"uhhh timmy? the cheeseburgers are burning baby."

tim is thrown off by roy's prescience. he starts burning food so jason takes over. he keeps spilling drinks and dropping cups and straws and plates so dick tells him to have a seat maybe go for a swim because the heat must be getting to him. the whole time tim is stuttering and blubbering, red all the way down to his tits as roy stares at him. tim is using napkins to clean up some spilled lemonade when roy ambles over and starts helping him. he starts talking in that deep voice and leaning over to whisper things in tim's ear and tim can feel himself getting redder and...wetter.

roy slides next to him and a hand comes up to grope tim's tit and tim lets out a little squeal which makes roy's grin widen.

oh. oh tim is in so much trouble because he knows. there's no way he doesn't know. there's no way a single person at the party doesn't know how roy throws him off balance because tim had been perfectly fine with the pinches and gropes and he's been making burgers and running drinks like a well oiled machine....and then roy harper arrived.

yeah. tim has for sure been pegged.

roy stands there, groping tim's tits and cooing about how pretty and red tim is. tim tries not to hyperventilate and to press his legs together because his pussy is just buzzing with arousal.

the entire time, tim's brothers are glaring at both of them. angrily rotating hot dogs and pouting as they made screwdrivers.

timmy was supposed to blush and get flustered over his big brothers touching his pretty timmy tits!!!!!!

[tmagpposting]

So, about TMAGP Ep 4

Some theories based on this newest episode. Major spoilers under the cut, so please go listen to it first.

I know there have been a lot of popular theories up to this point that Augustus would be Jonah Magnus, and episode 4 puts a lot more evidence out there that would seem to support this idea.

Here's what I thought was relevant to this theory after listening through the episode twice this morning:

Augustus is voiced by an older man who I don't think we've ever heard before, and we've never heard Jonah's actual voice either, since he's using Elias's voice throughout all of TMA as far as I'm aware. He sounded vaguely like Jurgen Leitner to me, although I think this is just on account of the fact that the VAs sound similar and not indicative of them being the same person or being meant to voice the same character (I didn't catch who voiced him in the credits and I couldn't find it online, if you all know please tell me and I'll update this)*

The incident report is a very old document, with a writing style and tone reminiscent of the old statements/letters to Jonah in the early days of the institute. It seems like it'd be right up Jonah's alley.

The episode revolves around a man succumbing to a dark power and eventually dedicating himself to it (the freaky bloodlust violin vs the Eye) and recruiting a younger man, in this case his relative, to serve this violent power (though probably after his death in this case, unlike with Jonah), which has some parallels to Jonah's recruitment of Jon and the rest of the staff in TMA.

We don't know much about the universe of TMAGP yet, but we know there is a Magnus institute that has aldready been linked to Eye-esque characteristics like paranoia, suspicion, (fatal) curiosity, and eyes as of Ep 1. It is possible that Augustus could be a version of Jonah from the TMAGP universe, rather than the same Jonah we dealt with in TMA.

.JMJ error could stand for some combination of Jon, Martin, and Jonah's initials, given that Chester and Norris also have Jon and Martin's voices.

In the TMA finale, Jon, Martin, and Jonah (though I assumed he was dead at that time) were close to where the fears were sucked out of the world and sent somewhere else, and Jon and Martin may also have ended up in the OIAR's computers in some form.

On the other hand, here's some evidence against Jonah being Augustus:

The other Jonah theory I've seen posits that Jonah took over RedCanary's body when they went down to investigate the ruins of the magnus institute, assuming that "canaries should stay above ground" and the gory photo of eyes was meant to represent RedCanary's eyes having been ripped out and presumably replaced with Jonah's. If you interpret things this way, it makes it less likely that Jonah is in the computers, unless you think both TMA Jonah and a hypothetical TMAGP Jonah are both around at the same time, though this theory is also a little shaky itself since it seems to be based on only a couple pieces of evidence so far. I first saw a post about this from @thermodynamic-comedian though that post says she saw other people discussing it, so please lmk if you know any major contributors to this theory and I will add them in here too.**

The fact that, to take over as the Eye's pupil, it was implied that Jon had to actually kill Jonah, and he was seemingly dead as of the TMA finale. Death was usually a very hard line in TMA except for a few avatars of the End and near-deaths where characters lost some of their agency (and/or humanity depending on your interpretation) to become an avatar instead (which Jonah already was), so him being back after seemingly already having been killed off isn't super plausible unless it's revealed that he didn't actually die in the first place.

It seems like there's enough evidence at this point that this theory definitely feels viable, though there is nothing definitive that I'm aware of, and there are some things that point to other explanations.

I personally (this is now entering pure opinion territory, tread lightly) don't love the idea of Augustus being Jonah, because I'd prefer it to be someone or something new to the series or something otherwise more surprising, rather than the same central antagonist as last time. There certainly are ways they could pull this off well, and bringing him back definitely doesn't tarnish the story on its own, especially since he was a pretty great villain with a lot of his character left more or less ambiguous or untouched by TMA, but it still feels a bit like relying on nostalgia for TMA to flesh out TMAGP's plot and conflict, at least to me. However, all the evidence pointing to it being Jonah could be some kind of red herring to specifically mislead past fans of TMA and set up for a later twist, or we could just be running our minds in circles and drawing conclusions that won't turn out to be relevant to TMAGP so early on. Only time will actually tell, and regardless, I'm really eager to see what happens.

* UPDATE: Augustus is voiced by Tim Fearon, thank you to @lokicat5 for finding that out! We haven't heard him before on this podcast, so he could be either Jonah Magnus's original voice, or a new character entirely.

** UPDATE: I found and reblogged what seems to be the original theory that Jonah killed and took over RedCanary, it's by @vertigala and @doomatix, check out their post it's pretty cool.

[watcheraurora]

I just wanted you to know that I have developed so many short story continuations of like, all of your fanfics its not even funny. Like, I gave sheriff jimmy a whole ARC where he ends up in conflicts with Joel and then flees the division. BRUH!! you've given me brain rot, I demand compensation, I'm loosing actual sleep over these AU'S XD

Oh my goodness! I'm so honored that I've inspired you so much! <3

You're actually Dangerously Close to Tango's history with Joel when he left the division. Because they did end up in major conflicts around the time Tango left! But I'm very happy that you've created more based on something I made!

May I offer you a piece of the as-yet-untitled Even Ice Walls Fall Down Role Swap I'm working on as compensation? XD

For context: When I first thought of the idea of "superhero and villain AU for the Ranchers" I really loved Deepfrost and Sheriff as a villain and a hero respectively, but my friend who I ranted to about it (@soemthingsparkly who also did Deepfrost and Sheriff art in the fic :-D) really loved the idea of hero!Tango and villain!Jimmy instead. And I promised them I'd work on a version where Tango is the superhero Blaze and Jimmy is the villain Canary because as Ice Walls demonstrates, I am Not Creative™ at coming up with hero or villain aliases. And I'm still working on it but I do enjoy it

AKA the version of the story where if they manifested different powers, they might have taken different paths?

—

"Blaze, watch out! There are civilians nearby!" Joel barked in Blaze's earpiece as he loosed a wheel of fire. Canary squawked in alarm as Poultry Man tackled him out of the way of the wheel. The two hurtled to one side in a tangle of white and yellow feathers.

"I know that," Blaze ground out as he focused on conjuring another wheel. He liked wheels of fire more than fireballs, due to being a little more precise and effective, in his opinion. "So maybe step off my back a little."

"I will when you stop acting like you're out of control!" Joel snapped.

Blaze's whole body went rigid, the fire wheel spinning around his fist. "Out of control?" he demanded, his other hand holding the earpiece firmer in his ear as he ducked behind a concrete barrier to hide. "I am never out of control, and I resent the implication otherwise." An animalistic growl built in his throat. "Do you understand how much I work to remain in control with powers like mine?"

"Blaze—"

"N-n-n-n-no. Between the two of us, only one of us has the one-hundred-and-sixty IQ. And that would be me. So don't you dare lecture me about not knowing how to use my own powers. I'm not you, Lore. I'm not a danger to myself and others because I don't know how to leash myself. So shut up and let me do my work." He ripped his earpiece out of his ear and vaulted the concrete barrier to throw himself back into the fight, hurling the fire wheel in Poultry Man's general direction. The villain squawked like a chicken and dodged out of the way.

"Blaze! What are you doing?!" HoTGuY shouted as Blaze lowered his head a little and charged forward. His Blaze Rods appeared around his head, orbiting fast. They lifted him off the ground and he was flying, his gold-blond hair turning into pure flame. It would return to normal later.

Canary saw him in the air and snapped out his wings—enormous and vibrant, rich yellow. They beat the air once and shot him up to be almost level with Blaze. "Look who we pissed off!" Canary teased, voice singsong and high-pitched. "You here to play games, Fire Boy?"

Blaze's eyes were entirely the same shade of red while his fire powers were active and his Blaze Rods orbited his head. Iris, sclera, pupil—all the same. It was why he didn't bother wearing a mask. No one expected the green-eyed nerd to be Blaze because everyone assumed Blaze was red-eyed all the time.

Blaze bared his teeth in a frustrated snarl, sparks shooting between the gaps. He spun two fire wheels into existence. One spinning around each hand. "Let's see how playful you are when your flight feathers are ash, birdie," he spat. The inside of his mouth glowed like there was fire in his throat, its light reflecting outward.

Blaze had a temper. Blaze knew he had a temper. A bad one. One with a short fuse and a big explosion. He knew it was a side-effect of his powers. He didn't used to be so easy to set off. He used to be a lot more patient with people and situations.

But here he was, eleven years after his powers manifested, ready to burn a whole city block down and trying to stop himself from actually doing so.

But man did Canary piss him off. Even more than Poultry Man. Poultry Man was a pain in the neck. He was chaotic and antagonistically playful. He took nothing seriously. But Canary—Canary was little more than Poultry Man's lackey. But he targeted Blaze like it was his life goal to see how much fire he could withstand.

Canary's eyes widened behind his mask.

"Take the shot, you idiot!" Poultry Man shouted.

Canary moved to aim his crossbow, but Blaze's fire wheel spun into existence faster. He hurled it across the distance like a chakram. Canary's wings flapped hard to go over it and avoid it. Blaze rushed after.

[tricia-swritingcorner]

-The Lockpick and the Canary Cage Pt.1-

Jacob Frye x OC!Reader (Leandra Starrick)

No warnings, honestly just a rewrite of something I wrote years ago. I am currently working on the next installation. As always, if you like please enjoy. If not, scroll on.

‘Oh look, it’s raining. How interesting.’ Hearing the light drumming from her window, Leandra sighed as she stared up at the ceiling. Three weeks in an asylum and yet her own sanity remained intact, though daily visits from her father certainly weren’t helping. He was certainly an important man, who else could imprison their own child in Lambeth asylum with little outcry or comment? Though, one might ask just why he would go to such lengths, and it was simple…Leandra had no intention of becoming a Templar.

Admittedly, to refuse the Grandmaster of the Templar order borough in London was certainly an action that held consequences. While she had sworn that she had no intention of becoming an Assassin instead, apparently Crawford Starrick did not enjoy the idea that his daughter did not wish to follow in his footsteps. Though truthfully, adopting a child from Crawley likely wasn’t his wisest decision. Maybe he believed that by locking her away, Leandra would agree to join out of desperation. It wouldn’t work though and humorously he had the Assassin’s to blame for that.

‘What was my last record again? Two months?” Chuckling at the memory, Starrick did not know the half of her time with the Assassin’s, and she did so on purpose. Regardless of the two friends Leandra had, those higher up in the order often disregarded her after the death of her parents. While the order knew she was their charge for a time, it meant little when no one could agree on to whom she was to go to. Back then, as long as she was given a daily meal there was nothing else they felt she needed to pass time in her “room”.

Despite her current predicament, Crawford Starrick was a fine father figure. He certainly fairs much better than many of the other doting old men who looked in to adopt her. While living with his, she was allowed to study philosophy, economics, even medicine. Not many men of the age were so open to allowing a woman to learn beyond her role as homebody and bearer of children. ‘I suppose that’s why he saw fit to stick me here. Where better to dangle a hook than where I study and what I most risk losing.’

As Leandra continued to stare at nothing, her thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door. Turning her gaze, the meal slot opened without a word and a package was slid halfway though. How interesting. “My lady?” Oh, Arnold was on guard today. He was always the nicest of her guards, even told her of news from outside or at least what he could tell her. “I got a book for ya. Mutual friend asked for this to be delivered.” Twisting herself out of the oddly comfortable bed, Leandra beamed as she took the bundle into her hands. Must be Dickens, he had been writing something the last time the two met at the George and Vulture. Ripping apart the wrapping, the joy of something new to take her mind off the situation could not be adequately described.

“Thank you Arnold. Tell me, what news is there? Last time you were here Dr. Elliotson was in the midst of trafficking his soothing syrup.” Setting the book down onto her desk, even mentioning the disgusting draught sent shivers down Leandra’s back. Before her incarceration, Starrick had asked her to check in and get an understanding of what Elliotson was pandering to the common man. While she was no chemist, the drug’s combination of opium and datura stramonium was something that she was abhorred by.

“I’m sure you’ve ‘eard the commotion around here. Someone managed to slip into the main distillery and blow the damn thing. While I wouldn’t mind shaking their ‘and, your father ain’t none too pleased. Talk around the boroughs is about these Frye twins and their gang, the Rooks.” At mentioning the name, Arthur definitely had a mocking tone. To Leandra…Blighters wasn’t much better though at least they weren’t named after a chess piece. Hold on a moment, did he say Frye?!

“Frye? Haven’t heard that name in a long time. It can’t be them…could it?” Leandra spoke her thoughts, as if saying their name herself would make it make sense. The last time she saw Jacob and Evie Frye was after her mother’s funeral in Crawley. The assassins weren’t in London, they hadn’t been for years. Shaking her head, she shifted her focus to the other parts of Arthur’s news.

“On that, you and I agree. I will never understand why father believed selling that was a good idea. Poisoning your enemies is one thing, but poisoning innocents? Nothing warrants that. How’s the Lambeth group doing? What with these Rooks and all.” Acting along with Arthur’s mockery, Leandra couldn’t let it slip that she knew Jacob and Evie. To her knowledge, not even Starrick knew about her past with the two especially as he’s never asked during his visits. If he suspected that she did know them, he never let it show.

“Last I ‘eard they got chased out, at least those who didn’t betray their kin.” CHASED OUT?! How long have they lost control? Leandra turned to gaze at the door, trying to understand what she just heard.

“Chased out? How is that possible? There hasn’t been a change here, at least not a noticeable one.” Hearing this, she could hear Arthur hum in response. Perhaps they’ve doubled their efforts in the asylum, at the very least due to having two high value individuals within its walls. She may not have agreed with the good doctor, but Starrick couldn’t afford to lose his hold on the medical field in the city. Before their conversation could continue on, Leandra heard a crash outside the door.

“Arthur?! What’s going on out there?” Genuine concern sat in her voice, something she hadn’t felt since before her incarceration. Slowly approaching the door, she could hear a cocking sound before her guard spoke.

“Not sure miss, but nuttin’ you need to concern ‘urself with. Just read that book a’yours.” Sighing, his bravado was certainly a comfort. It wasn’t like she could provide much help within her cage anyhow. Stepping back, Leandra returned to her desk but before she could even open the book’s cover there was another crash. This time the sound was followed by Arthur’s barking voice. “The FUCK are you doing here?!” Drawing in a sharp breath, she looked around the room for a suitable hiding spot.

Since this was an asylum, it was understandable that her room was mostly bare. Though in cases such as this, it was a grand inconvenience. Remembering how the door opened reminded her that it swung inward, if whoever attacked Arthur came in she could potentially hide behind it and make an escape. Thinking quickly, Leandra grabbed her present and rushed to hide. Time was apparently not on her side as right as she hid, the door’s lock was being picked.

‘I hope Arthur’s okay. Only a Rook would warrant that kind of response from him.’ Covering her mouth, the door was unlocked and just as she thought the burglar entered her room. Thankfully, he didn’t need to open the door completely to enter and so he did not notice the other body that hid from his sight.

“Armed guard, Starrick must have something important stored here. Dr. Elliotson can wait.” Dr. Elliotson? So, she wasn’t his target, that was a tad reassuring. Tiptoeing from behind the door, Leandra was met with the back of a rather average sized male with a hood. While he hadn’t quite noticed her yet, she could not risk him turning around before she was fully out of the room and catching her. Bringing the thick tome above her head, she slammed the book as hard as she could down onto his head and appeared to stun him as she planned. Bolting out of the room, she heard a shout of anger right as she shut the door. Unfortunately for whoever it was, the doors look from the outside and once closed her door always locked itself without the use of a key.

Turning away from the other side of her cell door, Leandra spotted an unconscious Arthur a few steps away along with several other Blighters. Checking the man she had come to see as a friend, there was a steady pulse and his breathing appeared unimpeded. Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, for a second Leandra contemplated what her next move was. The guards were down and whoever had broken into her cell was going to become a much larger issue soon if Dr. Elliotson was his target. This was the kind of opportunity she had prayed for. But what would happen once she leaves?

Her father was never one to let those under his thumb go without a fight. Yet, if he was losing control of the city then maybe could…get lost in it. While she had no prospects as a woman in London, Starrick had set up accounts in the past she could access for “frivolities” as he called them. That money could easily be used to set up a new life, whether it was in the city or not. Plus…there was her other friends in the city. Living with the assassins for the first ten years of life did not leave her completely without aid.

‘Now is the moment, alright time to go.’ Walking away from Arthur’s unconscious body, Leandra ran through the hall. Looking for an exit, it wasn’t until she found a stairwell with roof access that she managed to truly escape. Seeing a pile of hay at the bottom, she gathered the courage mentally before performing an eagle dive into the cart. Feeling the rush of air and the adrenaline that came from the free fall, when she jumped out and brushed herself off the rush propelled her. Calmly but quickly walking to the front gate, Leandra took her first steps out of the asylum a free woman.

Continuing on through the streets of London, it dawned on her that her clothes were the same ones she had been incarcerated in. Had she been there a night or two, that would be easy to explain away. Yet, three weeks was much less of an instance. ‘Which street am I on?’ Looking for a nearby sign, she was relieved to find that it was the very same one that her tailor was on. ‘Today must be a very lucky for me. Hopefully he’s open.’ Using muscle memory from the days where she would leave the asylum for a new coat or a fix on a skirt, it didn’t take very long for her to find Thimbles and Threads.

Entering the quaint shop, the shop keep stood at attention and smiled warmly at the sight of her. “Leandra! My dear, it has far too long since your last visit. Asylum keeping you busy? Here, let me have a look at you.” Gliding across the floor, her dear friend Michael gingerly took her hands and guided her to one of the fitting rooms. Helping her to step up onto a small platform, he did a full look at her wears and tusked at the state.

“When was the last time you had something new to wear? I swear, it looks you’ve worn this for the past week at least.” At this, Leandra gave a sheepish smile before speaking.

“Make that three. Oh Michael, it’s been awful. Father didn’t like what I had to say about paving my own way…so I might have spent a little time as a patient at the asylum and not a caretaker. Think you give me a hand?” The look on Michael’s face said it all when he heard her out. Over the following few hours, the two spoke on everything they’ve missed in each other’s lives the last few weeks. Once everything was said and done, Leandra offered to pay for his services, but Michael promptly and adamantly refused.

“You have been through hell my dear. Consider this a gift.” Placing a hand over her heart, if only the man wasn’t already wed. She would have kissed him right then and there.

“Well thank you, my dear friend. Now, do you know where I can find Mr. Dickens these days? I left something in his care and was hoping to retrieve it.” The man nodded his head, of course he did. As far as tailors go, the upper level of society chose from a select few. Thankfully for me, he was one of those.

“Aye, I believe you can find him at Devil’s Acre in West Minster. He claims it’s their ale, but there’s been talk of other things. You know how it goes.” Lightly chuckling, she understood very well what Michael implied. Shaking his hands, Leandra continued on her way through London. West Minster was where both her father and the leader of the Blighters dwelled, so she was certainly going to use great caution. But if she wished to retrieve her belongings, it was there she had to go.

Prior to her incarceration, tensions with her father had been building to a dangerous point. While she had no true clue has to the extent his was willing to go, something was brewing in his mind. The last time she saw Dickens he noticed her unease and offered a solution. Pack a trunk, one her father wouldn’t take note of, and leave it with him at a pub. From there, he would hide for her. ‘Dickens, you wonderfully chaotic mind.’ Hailing a cab with ease, the quick journey to the Devil’s Acre was a quiet one.

Once she reached the tavern however, the peace of the day ended as the slow roar of revelry reached her ears. ‘Hopefully none of the other guards from Lambeth are here.’ Keeping her head down as she entered, it felt as though her presence was greatly…unnoticed. Which made looking for Dickens that much easier, adding to the fact that he was probably the only classy gentleman in the place. Gingerly snagging the seat next to him, the poor man nearly choked on his ale at the sight.

“*cough* Leandra! Dear girl it has been many a night since I last saw you. Did you receive the book I sent you? Arthur promised he would bring it to you.” Covering the laugh that escaped, she nodded her head and gestured to him with said book in hand.

“He did, haven’t had the chance to read it quite yet. It makes a very good weapon of defense. Thank you for finding a way to get it to me.” The old man chuckled and took a sip of his ale, without choking this time.

“So, our mutual friend was tight-lipped on your whereabouts. Were you right to be cautious?” Leandra nodded her head, unperturbed by Dickens’ sudden serious tone. For the pair, it had been a month since their last conversation. Dickens had been someone outside of her father’s circle that she could speak freely with. So, it was not difficult to understand his worry for her after disappearing for three whole weeks.

“I was, despite your usual joyful demeanor, you were right about him. He placed me in Lambeth, a few days after we spoke. I managed to get out but without the things I gave you, it shan’t be long before he throws me back in and walks away with the key. Where is it?” Speaking in hushed tones, Leandra began to feel the gazes of others on her back. Devil’s Acre was not a place to linger for long, and both knew this.

“The prize you seek,” Dickens paused as he took another sip, “lies amongst oddities galore, which could not be further from the river’s shore.” A moment passed and Leandra had her answer. Henry Green’s curio shop. The belongings of the Templar Grandmaster’s daughter are with the one assassin in all of London…clever move. Tipping her head, Leandra slipped out as silently as she had entered. While she could hail a cab once again, the chance of being spotted by a Blighter as she waited was too high here. Instead, she chose to stalk the side alleys for an unabandoned carriage whose owner was too drunk to care where it might be.

Thankfully, it did not take very long around Devil’s Acre just nearby. Procuring her mode of transport, it was easy to move through the streets as she attempted to remain as unnoticed by Blighters as possible. Reaching Whitechapel within the hour, there was a sharp change in scenery from the Whitechapel she remembered. Men and women walked the streets but instead of Starrick’s red coats, they wore dark green plaid. Children played in the streets instead of slaving away in factories. People here appeared…happier? The sky remained the same dreary hue as in the rest of London, yet the people around didn’t seem to mind as much.

‘Maybe the Rooks are what London needs. Certainly appear to do more good than harm.’ Driving the carriage until she was a few blocks from the shop, it seemed like a good idea to leave it there. Certainly would not want someone mistaking her for a Blighter sent to hurt Mr. Green. Once she reached the shop, Leandra noticed the unburnt candles and seeming desertion. Had Henry left London? Why would he leave his shop unattended?

‘No matter, just need to get my things and leave. Starrick likely knows of my absence by now.’ Going around to the back of the shop, she was pleased to know the spare key was still where she had been shown in the past. Unlocking the door, Leandra scoured the shop and managed to find her chest amongst Mr. Green’s personal things. Opening the chest with ease, certainly helped that it wasn’t latched by a true “key” but a puzzle, she was on the verge of opening it when a chime was heard behind her.

Did someone see her? Leandra didn’t notice any lingering eyes on her walk here, or any carriages that possibly followed her. Stepping away from her chest, she spotted a nearby armoire that was not against the wall. Quickly squeezing herself behind it, luck must have once again been on her side for as soon as she was secure there was the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Who’s in here? I saw you through the window. I don’t think Greenie would be happy someone is going through his things.” Greenie? Did the voice mean Henry? Leandra held her breath as the voice grew closer. She couldn’t leave the chest open, regardless of this person’s potential friendship with Green. The floorboards creaked as he stepped in front of the armoire and in a split second, she recognized a chance to flee. Using the wall as a grounding force, she toppled the furniture onto the man. Hopefully it would only render him incapacitated for as long as she needed.

Racing back to the chest, she grabbed whatever she could and fled through the front door. In her haste, the only thing she could get her hands on were papers from her father’s study. While there were other things of value, these just might have been the most important to her. As she fled, the voice called out again in rage for her to come back. Strangely enough, she recognized the voice this time…the same one she heard back in the asylum. Certainly it wasn’t the same person from before, right?

No matter, for now the next stop was Bishopsgate station. Green may not have been in his shop but that doesn’t mean she had to stay and wait for him. Right now, her best move would be to return to Crawley. While she had no intentions of joining the assassins in their fight, these papers from Starrick might be enough to grant her safe passage to America or Europe…or literally anywhere other than here.

Easily making it to the station, the next train to Crawley wasn’t set until for several hours. ‘Unfortunate, but I don’t mind waiting.’ Finding a seat by the tracks, Leandra thumbed through the documents. If she was going to be carrying these around, it wouldn’t hurt to know what she had in her possession. The first few were nothing of consequence, however the further in she went the more crucial they appeared to be. Contacts, debts owed, and locations of owned businesses were in her hand. Somehow she seems to have snagged a literal treasure trove of documents. No wonder her father was adamant of her return to the fold, he likely knew what she had taken and wanted it back.

‘Well…shit. What have you gotten yourself into Leandra?’ Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to be lost in thought as time ticked by. Trains came and went, and it became a game for her to make up stories to keep herself entertained about their lives. Whilst doing this, Leandra hadn’t noticed a certain figure slump next to her until he groaned. Keeping her head still whilst stealing a glance, there was something recognizable about the man she couldn’t quite place. Maybe he was someone she had run into at the asylum during her rounds, he certainly fit the description of a Lambeth asylum patient. Before she could steal anymore glances, a woman approached the man and chuckled at his appearance.

“Tired brother? And here I thought you were the brawn of us.” Wait a moment, that snark. Leandra remembered it well, only when they were children it was much more high-pitched.

“Yes sister, having a wardrobe fall on someone would do well to tire them out.” The man hissed out, oh shit. Had she pushed it onto him of all people?! Looking out onto the tracks, she risked another look at the pair beside her. Seeing them together, it was undeniable. Despite the years, she would recognize the Frye twins anywhere. So many questions filled her head at this realization. What were they doing in London? Did they know Mr. Green? Could they help her?

Before she could speak out, Evie spoke. “Ah, was that before or after being hit in the head with a book at Lambeth?” That was him too? Oh god, she had a lot of apologizing to do for today.

“Hey, I at least finished the job. Damn nutter got the jump on me. Besides, someone was in Greenie’s shop. Figured he should know some trunk was opened. Whoever it was wanted something. I don’t know what, but it was probably important.” At hearing this, she looked down and gripped the papers tightly. Either Jacob or Evie must have noticed her action as the two shifted to whispers, none of which she could hear. Good Lord has today been a long day. Leandra became consumed by her thoughts, embarrassed at the fact she had not only hurt the same man twice but both instances had been one of her TWO childhood friends all for the sake of survival. Was it worth it?!

Before she could answer herself, a pair of shadows loomed over her. Shifting her gaze, it was of course the twins standing over her. Evie was thankfully the first to speak, always being the more…socially polite. “Excuse me, my brother and I couldn’t help but notice how tightly you’re holding onto those papers. Mind if we see them?” She didn’t recognize her, how could she? It had been eleven years since they had seen each other. Taking a deep breath, Leandra steeled herself before answering.

“I would actually. They’re for a friend, he was holding on to them for me. I wouldn’t suppose you know him, Mr. Henry Green? I was hoping to give them to him.” She had to act unbothered. The twins she remembered were always quick to action, even if Evie was one to know more than her brother beforehand. Speaking firmly, she noticed how Jacob became defensive.

“And how do you know Greenie?” He growled the name, as if itching for a fight. Shit, this was not how she wanted this to go. However, before she could explain a train pulled into the station as if in the nick of time…with Henry Green hopping out. Honestly, something was working hard in her favor today.

“Leandra! You’re okay. When Dickens dropped off your trunk I thought something had happened.” Practically jumping to her feet, Leandra was happy to see her friend.

“Henry. God you have perfect timing. Here,” she held out the stack of papers in her hand as he approached the three of them, “I need you to take this. And I have to ask a favor if you can help me.” Evie and Jacob parted as Henry walked up. Gingerly taking the papers from her, he peered over them and as he realized what she was giving him his eyes bulged.

“Leandra, how did you get these?” Of course that was his first question. She had never told him about Starrick, why would she when the two were staunch enemies? Though, she supposed now was as good a time as any.

“They’re from my father’s desk, or better yet Crawford Starrick’s. There is much to discuss but I’d rather not do it here. Please Henry.” Her gaze turned to pleading as she looked at him. While they may not be in Blighter territory, the more time she spent outside, the higher her risk of being found.

The twins, still present, shared a look before turning to Mr. Green. It would appear her safety was in his hands. However, it would appear that he valued their friendship. Taking a deep breath, he looked to Evie and nodded his head. “Come Leandra, you’ll be safe on the train. After we’re aboard you can tell us everything.” Adamantly nodding her head, the trio turned to the train that had yet to leave the station and headed towards it. Leandra followed behind, hopeful for what was to come.

[fixatedonfandom]

Aw, Hell

this is a pre-EngieScout fic :3 idea shamelessly stolen from @hanktalkin in this gorgeous post about ol' Engie's legendary temper, and the one thing proven to cool it off

This is the lightest and brightest thing I've ever written it made me feel like skipping through a field of daisies

I don't claim this to be the pinnacle of my writing but I do claim it to be darn cute and self-indulgent. If it reads strangely that's because I wrote this as a message from the divine. Thank you <3

~~~~

After four long hours of battle, and round after round of humiliating RED Team losses, the klaxon wailed and hailed the end of the work day for the poor fellows down in Teufort, New Mexico. The BLUs marched out with high heads and gloating smiles, and retreated to their locker rooms to count out bet money and crack open some beers. The REDs trudged through blood-clotted sand puddles to their lockers and scraped their heels in the door frame, with uniforms lousy, torn, and sweat-soaked beyond the good of washing. No blistering smiles, or cheerful banter, and not really much noise at all save for the slamming-open of the locker doors and the clatter of guns, hats, and accoutrements to the benches and the floors.

It was an ugly series of rounds, and an uglier loss overall, made worse with some faulty equipment (Scout’s headset had been acting up the whole day, Sniper’s best scope had a scratch), bad calls, and plum poor luck. Not a man in that room was happy, but none more pure and pissed than the good Engineer Dell Conagher.

He stomped his path to his standing locker and ripped the door near off of its hinges, and hurled his favored pipe wrench into the wall with a cantankerous CLANG.

“Dammit!” The man bellowed, tearing the canary-yellow hardhat from his head and throwing that to the concrete as he bitched. “God-dammit! We had them bastards on the goddamned ropes!”

It was true. Their losing rounds had been consecutive, frustrating, and downright embarrassing at times, but they hadn’t all been hopeless. The midpoint of round 10 had given RED a crucial break in the BLU’s push for the second point. RED Heavy begot a dead BLU Heavy, RED Sniper begot a dead BLU Soldier, and a pissy RED Medic begot a dead (and grossly dismembered) BLU Demoman. With that much space to breathe, and that much time for the Engineer to rush-upgrade his ballistic turret, they could’ve held that point much, much longer.

But that damn BLU Spy, and his damn BLU sapper. That solid hold they'd had fell apart about as hard and as fast as Engie’s turret had when he turned his back at the wrong time.

“Damn Spies…” Engie muttered through his clenched jaw. He was grinding his teeth together so tightly one could imagine he was trying to make corn flour in his molars. “I’m so damn mad I could spit.”

It wasn’t an often sight for the other 8 men to see the Engineer so hot. He was American, a people who could be known for their flaming tempers, and he was a Texan to boot, but Engie was cool-headed at the worst of times and could even be downright tranquil at the best. Never one to holler, shout, or scream at his fellow teammates in anger even in the thick of a losing battle, even if any one of them was being an obvious flaming idiot. He was a quick-witted, level-headed, stoic sentry of a man. That’s likely why his anger wasn’t much like a firecracker, but more of a pressure cooker left to stew for too-little too-long.

He radiated anger like heat, and one could hear his developing migraine beating a pissed-off rhythm in his skull from down a long hallway. It was the kind of slow, rough, abrasive anger that killed people for breathing too loud too close.

The last time he'd gotten all up-in-arms like he looked right then, the team had elected to ignore the bellows and crashes coming under the base from his workshop, only realizing the extent of the damage when they'd found a mangled experiment tossed out by the dumpster, scorched and twisted beyond recognition or repair.

So, lest he be compelled to show the rest of the boys what his old pipe wrench was good for beyond sentries and dispensers, it was silently agreed among the rest of the RED men that the best course of action would be to stay out of the Engineer’s way when he was stewing. 

The sticking point of a silent agreement, however, was that it wasn’t much good for a man who was as tone-deaf and emotionally unobservant as a fart in a funeral. The good RED Scout happened to be one of those sorts of men.

When Engie’s tight-lipped curses became mutters and huffs, Scout, who had been undoing his hand wraps, looked up and said, “Hey, Eng."

Shoulders tensed and hands stilled across the room, though Scout didn’t seem to catch any of that. Engie inhaled and bit out, “What, Scout?”

“Whaddayou call a mix between an elephant and a rhino?”

Immediately, the other REDs shuffled away from the scene, doing what they could to get cleaned up and get out of there before the pot boiled over. Scout was annoying; everyone knew this. He could try the patience of a saint. He seemed to know intrinsically the buttons of everyone he met and exactly how to push them. They’d seen him send people from zero to pissed in a few short sentences. None of them thought he’d be stupid enough to try and antagonize the Engineer, though. Not even Pyro played with that much fire.

Engie shook his head, then dragged his hands real slow down his face. “What?”

Scout chuffed, snorted back at him, “‘El-if-I-know!”, then hunkered over in choked off giggles that turned into the loudest sound in the room.

Engie didn’t chuckle, didn’t hardly smile, just pushed his lips together and started shucking his toolbelt to put it away.

When Scout collected himself he started on his left hand wrap, glanced mischievously over his shoulder, and said again, ”I got another one”

“Lad.”

That was Demo on the bench across from Scout a little ways away. He fought to catch Scout’s eye and, when he did, shook his head very slowly to warn him off.

Scout shrugged, like he was saying, ‘What?’.

Demo shook his head again and nudged it in the direction of the Engineer, trying to draw attention to his drawn-up shoulders and the steam practically coming out of his ears.

Scout just looked between him and Engie, he did it a few times, then shrugged again. ‘What?’

While Demo tried to come up with the most intelligent way to go about getting Scout to see what was right in front of his damn eyes, Scout went back to Engie.

“Whaddayou call a cop that’s asleep in a bed?” Scout got the last of his wraps off, and he turned a little further in his seat on the bench. “Huh?”

Everyone in the room had their eyes on Engie- Scout in mischief, the others anxiously. Engie worked his goggles off his face and rubbed his real hand over the indents they left under his eyes. He sniffed, then said, “What?”

The stupid smile on Scout’s face grew ten sizes. He managed to hiccup, “an undercover officer,” before losing himself in laughter once more and hunching over, just short of collapsing in his giggles.

He didn’t hear Engie sigh, didn’t see him shake his head tightly, or flex his jaw, but the others did. They glanced amongst themselves with obvious trepidation, obvious to all but two.

“Scout, lad.” Demo scooted further down his bench. “Read the room.”

“What?” Scout responded when his laughter calmed down. “Fuck you, that was a good one. Not my fault he don’t have a sense’a humor.”

Demo shook his head, then turned back to unlacing his boots. “Your funeral, laddie.”

Scout just scoffed at that. He fixed his hat on his head, and took his headset off and tossed it in his open locker, seeming not to care if it broke. He was getting a new one before the next match. 

“Wait.” He suddenly perked up and turned his head back over his shoulder. “Hey, Eng.”

Engie pinched the ridge of his nose.

“Engie! Hey!” said Scout. 

Demo leaned back over, about to hiss at him to shut his trap, but Engie grumbled before he could. “What, Scout?”

“This is the last one, I swear.”

“Damnit, Scout-” Engie mumbled.

 “C’mon, last one.”

When Engie said not a word, Scout persisted.

“Whaddayou call a solider whose survived mustard gas and pepper spray?”

Soldier’s head popped up, but Pyro was quick to wrap a hand over Soldier’s mouth and pull him back down before he started shouting in the tense atmosphere.

Scout scooched back and nudged Engie with his elbow. “Huh? Whaddayou call ‘em?”

Engie’s gloved hand tightened on the door of his locker. A creak was heard coming from it, and Engie was slowly and surely forcing five finger-sized divots into the metal where he gripped it.

A painful silence came and went before he responded, “What, Scout?”

Scout muffled a snort, and took just a second to compose himself, then answered.

“A seasoned veteran.”

Scout’s giggling started up again. Engie breathed in deeply. His eyes closed, and the Gunslinger tightened its grip like a pneumatic clamp. Then he exhaled.

As he did, though, his shoulders started shaking, and his door-grip faltered. The��tight lines of his face loosened like uncoiled wires, and his breath…

He was laughing.

The rest of the REDs watched in shock when Engie threw his head back and released a bark of laughter that shattered the tension in the air like glass.

Scout whooped and hollered when he heard it, and leapt up from the bench and threw his arm over Engies shoulder with his other fist raised in victory. They were both laughing harder than that stupid joke called for, but they cackled and chortled like it was easier than breathing. Engie’s face was turning redder and redder, and soon he was bending over to lean on his knees while Scout leaned right on him.

“I knew it! I fuckin’ knew I’d get you!” Scout howled. “I fuckin’ told you!”

Engie shook his head and rubbed his hands down his face for the last time, but they came away to reveal a shameful, resigned, yet bright smile on his face. He leaned right back up against Scout when he straightened out and jabbed him in the ribs to get him to lay off.

“Aw, hell, boy,” He said through light chuckles. “Those were damn awful. Damn awful. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Hey, look who's talkin’, chuckles,” Scout said right back. “That one wasn’t even a good one!”

“You’re damn right about that.” The laughter had begun to calm, but the vestiges of it remained on both of their faces. 

Engie slammed the door of his locker shut (not minding the handprint-shaped divot that kept it from closing properly) and Scout kicked the door of his to do the same. They made identical clangs. Engie sauntered towards the door of the locker room with both hands in his back pockets, and Scout sidled up next to him and started to go on about how he ‘couldn’t believe that stupid soldier joke was the one that made him crack’.

Engie chuckled and nodded along, but stopped them both when he sniffed and Scrunched his face up.

“What?” Scout asked.

“Christ alive, boy.” Engie huffed hard through his nostrils like he was trying to blow to smell out. “You need a shower worse than I do. That’s sayin’ somethin’.”

Scout shoved his shoulder. “Hey, fuck you. I’m starving, dude. Food first.”

 “Not a snowball’s chance in Teufort I'm lettin’ you be near me smellin’ like that, roadrunner.” Engie shook his head, and nudged him back with his own shoulder. “I’ll tell you what: You shower, I’ll cook. That way you won’t kill everyone in this base and we won’t have to put up with your bitchin’.

“Fine. Whatever.” Then Scout nudged him right back, and they found themselves in a tiny shoving match where they kept pushing back and forth with their shoulders. “Breakfast for dinner?”

The remaining six REDs watched in silence as they left the room, joyful and tame. It was only when they were gone, hearing Engie’s voice echo down the hall saying something about sausage gravy, that any of them spoke up.

"The hell was that?" Sniper muttered.

“‘m I jus’ drunk off my ass…” Demo ventured, and dropped his foot off the bench to lean on his knees and stare down the empty doorway like everyone else. “Or did any of you lads see what I just seen?” 

“If you mean the fact that Scout had attempted to annoy our Engineer, yet we’re not currently picking his remains off the floor,” Spy responded, his smoldering cigarette hanging from his lips. “Then yes. We all did.”

Medic and Heavy, who had been standing near each other through the whole exchange, glanced at each other, at the empty doorway, and back again.

“I see…” Medic murmured, mostly to himself. “Very interesting.”

No one asked him what he was thinking. Most every man in that room was thinking the same thing.

“They will tell us when ready,” Heavy said, sagely, and turned to close his locker door. 

That was a good enough answer for the rest of them, too.

~~~~

Thank you so much for reading!! I didn't really edit this so if you notice any glaring issues feel free to point them out. Still debating whether or not I wanna publish this on ao3 but I probably will so don't panic if you see it there too

The engiescout in this was not intended to be overt. I wanted to stay close to the spirit of the og textpost and make it seem like maybe Scout and Engie themselves don't really realize their own connection and everyone else sees it before they do, but I also didn't wanna make it too subtle.

This is also partially for just_mebs for dragging me into this hell ship so thanks to him

[indiebyrdn7]

Chapter 21 is up

“Stand down and you won’t end up like this fool,”

            I pointed down to the pile of ash. A few of the men muttered to themselves. Weighing their options as if they had one.

            “What’s in it for us?” 

            I looked over to Selina’s top bodyguard, Ollie, who had taken a step forward from the rest of the crowd. He wanted out from under Selina’s titan grasp. Whether the Canary did, didn’t matter, he wanted out. Though I owned the building, the Cat’s Den was Bruce and Selina’s brainchild from Gotham. I had a bargaining chip to play, loosening Bruce’s hold on my assets.  

            “You want to leave this place with your little birdie, don’t you?”

            Ollie raised his eyebrow. 

            “Don’t listen to him....” one of the men behind Ollie said.

            “I am a generous man to those who serve me and my cause,” I continued. “Walk away now and I’ll extend an invitation to you to join me directly. You and your little birdie will have a safe place under my roof and the power that it entails...”

            Ollie lowered his gun. The men behind him looked shocked.

            “Traitor…” one of the men shouted. 

            Ollie swiftly shot the man in the face without looking back.

            “Well then, let the fun begin…”

 Ollie slipped another round into the barrel of his gun as the men behind him rushed us. The first man that reached me, I grabbed hold of his arm. Ripping it out of its socket, arm still in hand, I cracked the skull open of the man behind him. Ollie was head-shooting men left and right. While I ripped Selina’s men, limb from limb. After a few moments, we were surrounded by a pile of broken bodies and blood.  

            “We make a pretty good team…” Ollie started to say, but I was already running down the hall.

            After a few seconds, I was standing behind Selina. She had slammed the door to her office. I could hear the Amazon screaming from the other side. Rage filled me. 

            “Selina!” I bellowed. 

            She reached for her gun and turned to face me. She shot three rounds into my shoulder. Ping, ping, ping. They bounced off my body, ricocheting into the walls around us.

            “DIE”

            “You first,”

            I unleashed hellfire from my eyes into her face. She barely made a sound as her flesh melted. Even the walls around us were singed. Rushing through her burnt body, I slammed into the door. It didn’t budge.  Suddenly, a rumble of thunder emanated from inside the room. I needed to get inside. 

            I rammed into the door a few times to no avail. Bruce’s doing, for sure. He wanted to keep his whore safe from me. Sadly, it didn’t work. It, however, was going to get the Amazon taken. Where was J’onzz?

            “J’onzz...  J’onzz…” I called out.

His absence frustrated me. He should have been here by now.

“Where the hell are you...”

Crackdoom…. Thunder clapped once more from inside Selina’s office.

            “She’s doing that,”

I heard J’onzz’s voice beside me. Out of the corner of my eye he phased into view. 

“What are you talking about, you green bastard?” I hissed. “Why are you just getting here?”

Crackdoom….

“Oh, I’ve been here,” J’onzz said as he pointed up to the heavens. “I’ve been observing her....”

J’onzz looked at me with a gleam of wonderment in his eyes.

“...She’s causing it, the thunder. I knew she was powerful but this is fascinating…”

“Fuck your fascinations, J’onzz!” I snapped

J’onzz rolled his eyes as he pointed to the right of the door in front of us.

“I’d blast over here,” he said. “He’s got her pressed up against the door….”

I tried to look through the door, but it was made of lead. I was able to make out two figures. One was smaller with their back to the door, the other was taller, broader. It was caressing the smaller figure’s body.

“Mine…” I thought.

[thecustomcosplayed]

aw man this is "in the midst of rewatching legends S2 and thinking abt Sara too much" part two because I have so many thoughts

(once again, semi spoilery if you care and me rambling)

OKAY LISTEN

Season 2, episode 11 is one of my favorite episodes in the entire series. There's so much happening with all the characters, and a lot of growth in most of them (also Sara angst potentials are through the roof)

I think this episode is one of my most rewatched in the entire bc of how much I love it. Some of the parallels with Sara go so hard in this episode it's actually insane

So obviously Rip appears in front of Sara, Rory and Washington (go with it) and bc he's all brainwashed and stuff he shoots her and leaves her for dead

AND JUST THINK ABT IT FOR ME. JUST FOR A SECOND

Sara dies/is left for dead by somebody she once considered a close friend who is no longer a friend because they were brainwashed by an evil force and she got shot.

ITS LITERALLY PARALLELING HER GETTING KILLED BY THEA???

Obviously it's not a one for one (arrows vs bullets, motives, etc) BUT ITS THERE? And the brainwashed friends were brainwashed in association with Malcom Merlyn????

Please tell me somebody else sees this because what the heck? This is such good writing (even if it wasn't fully intended)

And also, slightly more far fetched, but I think it also included her kind of "passing the torch." She makes Laurel want to become the Black Canary, and she makes Jax the captain/puts him in charge.

Maybe I'm just crazy and like this show a little too much but like tell me you can't see it a little bit?? This episode is telling/helping move along like three different plot points at once and one of them is a parallel to Sara's first actual death.

And she does die! Rip snaps her neck and she just dies (thank Gideon for her not staying dead 🙏). The show doesn't pull a "aww no rip finds the goodness of his heart-' no he kills her!! Jjst like Thea did!!

He does it without a second thought. Thea does as well (though she does regret it later when she finds out). They both kill her and Sara literally doesn't talk about it

Like maybe I haven't watched S3 in a while but I don't remember it ever really being brought up again?? They just don't mention the fact that Sara died again? To Rip no less?

And it makes me wonder how much Rip actually tells the bureau. Did he tell them about that time he got brainwashed and killed the captain and tried to kill the rest of the team?? Does Ava know? How does she react when she finds out? How much does Sara tell her about that entire shenanigan? I want so many answers that can't be solved 😭

ALSO I AM ALMOST FORGOT BUT. This happens on December 25th, which yes is Christmas Day BUT ITS ALSO SARA'S BIRTHDAY. She died on her birthday. like she legitimately died for a bit on her birthday. That's so insane????

tl/Dr: Season 2, episode 11 is an amazing episode and my favorite of the entire series!!! It raises so many questions and a lot of great fic opportunities (imo)