#s and d tier fic

[stoppit-keepout]

non-taxability (S & D Tier fic, 2/?)

continued from pt 1 here! I will be honest: this is just one more scene (or 1.5 depending how you wanna measure) and i feel a little funny putting it up here on its own but also i feel like it! so i’m going for it. ;)

The next evening Alex was off-planet, Morgan went to an overpriced ice cream place and used their wifi without buying anything.

The Internet didn't have any good advice for "platonic marriage vows" or "friend marriage vows" or "vows for marrying someone who's obsessed with you but you're not sure how long that's going to last so you're being careful with your feelings (and also your vital organs)."

"Songs about marrying your best friend" was immediately too sappy, and it brought up the spectre of that ringtone. How the fuck Chad had recognized it from two bars was beyond Morgan; why he'd sent them a link to it (and why Morgan had ever clicked it) doubly so.

The thing was, Morgan very genuinely didn't know if they could survive Alex ruining the friendship.

Their own feelings were... Well, Alex was too good-looking to be fully human, they were funny (often intentionally, but once in a while because they couldn't help it), and they were really good at what they did, which was worth a lot. Alex laughing and covered in blood... Morgan wasn’t immune, okay?

Alex had rescued Morgan and faked helpless so Morgan would rescue them, they'd turned up ready to kill on Morgan's say-so and pivoted to making them soup when they were miserable. They were often the first person Morgan saw when they woke up, and the last person they talked to before they fell asleep.

That was their friendship.

That was what that stupid fucking song said Alex wanted to ruin.

So when it came to Morgan's feelings...

Morgan felt like they would write their vows another day, actually.

They went home, which was to say, they went to bed two hours early.

As long as their bedroom was cold, they had vivid, memorable dreams. That night, they were back in their first ever car, an old Honda that Alex had never sat in the way they were sitting in it now.

"I'm up there, stay right," Alex said. They took an elegant sip of the coffee Morgan knew they'd bought at the start of the road trip, a flat white. "You should see me any minute."

Time stumbled and started, and then there was another Alex draped over the back seat, not bothering to click their seatbelt into place as Morgan pulled away from the kerb.

"Thanks, you're a peach," back seat Alex said.

"You don't like driving places," Morgan said. They could see the glint of their eyes in the rearview, against suburban streets they'd never driven on.

"But I like being with you," one or both of the Alexes said.

"Oh. I'm dreaming," Morgan said. They knew that already.

Every house they drove past looked like every other house, until front seat Alex snapped and they all became trees. Back seat Alex rolled down all the windows, and the car smelled green and blue.

The rest of the dream didn't survive the jumble of their return to consciousness.

Morgan ground their palms into their face. Their toes were sticking out from under the blankets.

They could still see Alex beside them, behind them in that old beater of a car.

Deep inhale. Burnt metal. Home.

"Well, that's the honeymoon sorted," they muttered to themself.

[thetrinitytest]

[bogkeep]

got ambushed by the sudden urge to draw one of my absolute favourite scenes from @cola-grey's wedding trifecta fic. (happy is not a character in the canon, she is cola's OC created for a highschool reunion fic, she is one of morgan's friends and works as an admin for the fairness association)

[swishyclang]

s&d tier daemon au:

Morgan has an incredibly scruffy magpie (smart, adult magpies can't be gender-differentiated on sight, myths about stealing and hoarding shiny things)

Barnaby has a coconut octopus (good at problem-solving, masters of escape and disguise)

yes Kotetsu is an octopus now, don't @ me

Ohio has an african grey parrot (large vocabulary, good at spatial reasoning, secretive, curious)

and Alex? their daemon never settled, but the public thinks it's a dragon. obviously.

[zeestarfishalien]

So ya know the hc where pics of Danny/phantom all come out blurry? Imagine the possibilities!!! The trio (possibly plus/minus Jazz) competing to see who can take the most hilarious picture of our fav half ghost boi. Possibly both in and out of Phantom form if you want to go the any pics of him all come out blurry route.

[only-1-a]

So, after not writing anything for like 5 years, my brain recently decided to spit out like 10 S and D Tier fics (coming to an ao3 near you soon). On the one hand, does anyone want to beta for me after I start cleaning them up? On the other hand, I need more canon references to “Jenny” as Alex’s ringtone now.

[tanoraqui]

S&D Tier fic inspired by this video. unedited.

“Kiddo, we need to talk about something,” Alex said, and thought, Oh god, I’m turning onto my father. Parenthood was a mistake. I should scrap this all right now and pretend it never happened.

But Hawk was already abandoning its legos and scurrying over to where Alex stood in its bedroom doorway, looking up at them all expectant and a little nervous. (It didn’t project except deliberately; Alex had given themself zeranid-specific telepathy during the space war, for army-directing purposes, and only ever partly turned it off because being able to read your kid’s moods was really helpful in parenting, especially when your kid was an insectoid war machine that didn’t visibly emote like a human).

(Yeah, it was way too late to scrap this all and pretend it’d never happened. It’d pretty much been too late since Morgan first phrased “keep an eye on my core hivemind war machine” as “babysitting.”)

Hawk had scrambled up their body to perch on their head and peer down at them through bent eyestalks. It loved doing that with Alex, because most people couldn’t hold forty pounds of chitin and lethal claws on their head without wobbling.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re adorable.”

Alex patted it on the shell, then walked over to its bed, gently pried its claws out of their hair, and set it on the skateboard-patterned duvet beside them.

“Now, I know you were eavesdropping on my call with Diego earlier—”

I wasn’t! Hawk insisted, projecting innocence and injury.

“I’m an expert eavesdropper and I saw one of your spy drones in the vent,” Alex retorted. “Learn to spy better if you don’t want to get caught!”

Hawk drew its limbs in a couple inches, sulking. Alex scratched the base of its eyestalks reassuringly. This was why they planned on leaving this sort of Real Conversation With Our Kid mostly to Morgan—Morgan was better at reassuring! But obviously, Morgan couldn’t take this Real Conversation…

“I’m guessing you didn’t hear what Diego was saying too much, though?”

They kept scratching as Hawk begrudgingly shook its head.

I could hear her being angry. Do I still get to play with Ducky today?

Alright, time rip off the bandaid.

“Yes,” Alex promised. “But— Listen, you know how Morgan woke up screaming in the middle of the night last…7am today?” Which was like midnight for Morgan; even parenthood hadn’t changed that.

Uh-huh, said Hawk.

“And you know how you showed them that cool trick with the squirrel a couple days ago, you know, the one you told me about over dinner?” While Morgan looked faintly queasy and didn’t finish their food, man, Alex was kicking themself now; at the time they’d been too busy laughing and enthusing at the gory details and the little dance Hawk did to show how it had puppetted the squirrel corpse.

Yeah! Hawk’s limbs stretched back out and its eyestalks waved excitedly. I’m going to show Ducky at our playdate! I’m going to make one do the Macarena. That’s Ducky’s favorite dance.

“That’s hysterical,” Alex informed it. “Okay, but here’s the thing: you can’t let Ducky’s parents know, and you need to pay attention to if Ducky is getting scared while you show him—you remember what people are like when they’re scared?”

Hawk rolled their eyes both internally and externally. They smell nicer and I want to kill them more slowly.

“Hel– heck yeah,” said Alex. “So, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if Ducky is getting scared, you should stop your super cool squirrel trick. Even if you haven’t made it dance yet. Because otherwise, Ducky might be the next one waking up with screaming nightmares, and then Diego really would cancel your next playdate, instead of just talking sh– trash.”

What?! Hawk reared up in dismay and affront, hissing in the way quadrillions of people on thousands of worlds had learned to fear. Why?

But it was a smart kid, so it immediately connected the dots—the really important dots in this conversation; no offense, Ducky. It curled back in on itself unhappily. Did I make Morgan have a nightmare?

“Yeah,” Alex said bluntly. “And Morgan is never, ever going to admit it, because they love you so, so much, and they’d literally rather die rather than make you feel bad about anything you can do or want to do.”

Don’t kill Morgan’s parents, they reminded themself reflexively, to counter the other reflexive thoughts. Do not kill Morgan’s parents, do not kill Morgan’s parents, do not—

They gathered Hawk onto their lap and booped it just above the mandibles, to remind it that it was cute and loveable and to make sure they had its full attention.

“Morgan is stubborn like that, but Morgan is also squeamish,” they explained, in terms suited to a six-year-old. “Literally and morally. That means that when they see too much blood or wiggling internal organs or corpses used as toys or…any sort of killing, really… If they see that stuff up close, they start to feel sick. It’s very lame, I know it’s very lame, but that’s just how they are. So, because we love Morgan, there are rules of thumb—rules of claw, for you, I guess.”

Hawk projected rapt attention. Alex had noticed at some point years ago that every random monster they manifested now—not a power they used often, but it could be fun, eg, for space armies—instinctively adored Morgan as a default feature of their existence. It wasn’t a feature they felt any need to change.

They enumerated on their fingers.

“One, try not to take more than about fifteen seconds to kill a single living creature in front of Morgan, and no more than a minute for a group. If you want to take longer than that, or if it seems like you need to take longer than that, either drag your victim out of sight or drag Morgan away and come back later.

“Two, don’t play with or otherwise weaponize corpses for more than, like, casually throwing them at your enemies, in front of Morgan. Otherwise it’s fine! And Morgan doesn’t even mind if they’re watching you fight on tv. It’s just when they have to see it up close that they start to feel sick.”

I don’t want to make Morgan feel sick. Hawk wasn’t quite at the stage where a human child would be in tears—they were a ruthless killing machine, albeit one who was functionally a six-year-old with an increasingly healthy upbringing with loving parents. But it radiated distress, and hid its face in Alex’s midriff like Alex could shield it from every possible bad thing in the world. Which Alex could, obviously.

Can’t you just make them not get sick?

“Believe me, I’ve thought about it.” Alex sighed, and scratched it gently between the eyestalks again. “But then they wouldn’t be Morgan, you know?”

No! said Hawk, confused and annoyed.

“You will when you’re older,” Alex promised, with another mark on the Turning Into My Parents list.

Hawk critter-grumbled against Alex’s stomach. And Ducky will get sick, too?

“He might, he might not,” Alex said truthfully. “He’s pretty young, so he probably can’t conceptualize that you’re killing people yet, defiling their corpses, all that stuff. In which case, it’s way better to show him now, so he’ll get used to it early!”

Hawk sat back on Alex’s lap with a thoughtful twist of its eyestalks. And I can still show you, right?

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Alex. “I can’t believe you haven’t shown me yet! I love flesh puppets! No matter how your playdate with Ducky goes, you and I are going to the park again tomorrow so you can kill as many squirrels as you want.”

Hawk brightened even to the non–zeranid-telepathic eye. It mentally ran through the list of people who were in on the secret of their identity.

Can I show Barnaby and Ohio?

“Totally,” said Alex. ���I want to watch you show Barnaby and Ohio. Please let me be there.”

Okay.

“Okay!” said Alex. He scratched the base of Hawk’s eyestalks again, briskly. “Good talk, champ.” Oh god, that was a pure Mom-ism. “By the way, Rule Three is all bets are off if you or Morgan, or Ducky, is in real danger. Then you should kill whoever and however you want until you’re safe—and full! No skipping meals!”

Hawk both telepathically projected and physically dramatized the rolling of eyes again. Alex and Morgan were raising one sarcastic kid. To be fair, the idea of skipping and not skipping meals did come up a lot in their household.

Speaking of…

“Speaking of, you’d better eat lunch before you go to Ducky’s, or Diego won’t get you guys ice cream at the park.” Alex scooped Hawk up in their arms and headed toward the kitchen. “How’s raw hamburger sound?”

Hawk chittered. With the blood of my enemies!

“Absolutely not,” said Alex. “And don’t try to tell me Morgan lets you drink that stuff—even they wouldn’t give Red Bull to a six-year-old.” Plain coffee, maybe, but not that monstrosity.

Yes they do! Hawk insisted.

“No they don’t.”

Yes they do!

“No they— This is a stupid argument.” They planted Hawk on the kitchen counter and spoke firmly. “You can have chocolate sauce on your hamburger, but no caffeine until you’re older.”

Okay! Hawk wasn’t the least bit dismayed by this result. In fact, it was outright satisfied.

Alex hid their proud grin by turning toward the fridge, wherein lay meat and chocolate sauce both. Their intuitive talent for slaughter and Morgan’s cunning—even if its best friend was a baby hero, their kid was going to fuck up so much shit!

[skulls-soul]

When you see that “Simpering & Domestic” aswell as “scandalous & demanding” by Basic_Beth get a new chapter 👀

Listen, I don’t know what’s gonna happen in this chapter but I know that it’s going to end up ✨horny✨so I’m excited >:3

[breadandblankets]

CE Code Section 10: Grounding and Bonding

“Heh,” Morgan says, looking at where Alex is clutching at their hand for dear life. “Good thing that was low voltage.” Alex very distinctly wants to scream but they’re interrupted by the sound of a metal door popping open. Morgan’s face splits into a grin, shaking free of Alex’s grip they rush with their minions to grab what they came here for. ⚡⚡⚡ Or, Safety is not a joke, Morgan plays a little fast and loose, Alex is going more grey by the day

[deadbyme1999]

Non-Stop Coffee Shop:

The bell hanging over the door chimes as someone walks in.

Morgan holding an old satchel walks over to a table and has a seat. Reaching into the bag they pull out a a fifty pound paper weight older model laptop sporting stickers and tape dukt-tape. Pressing down the power button the computers fan sputters a bit as it sounds like a jet engine as it comes to life, launching into Linux, the puzzle man's operating system.

A server soon comes over and ask for their coffee order. Morgan gives them their order and proceeds to log in as their order is made. As Morgan pulls up a few text documents and begins typing away at their most recent plans, this time having a biy of inspiration after finding a few tapes of older cartoon series that have long been oit of production. They arr pulled from their though as the server comes up to them with their cofee. "That was fast. Thank you." Morgan says as they pay for their coffee.

Taking a sip the coffee tast a little bit off from usual. They shake it off, claiming the lack of sleep for the past little while it's been a week and a half, you need sleep Morgan and begins to type once more. Thinking of where they could get an anvil weighing at least 2 tuns and some thin rope that can hold it and burn. As they type someone comes up to Moegand and ask "What's the puzzle of the week Villan!"

Not bothering to look up Morgan says "Looking to drop an anvils and see about setting up a few reverse falling cliffs. Wait, why would I tell you that?" Morgan looks up to see one of thoes annoying kids from the small detective agency with a talking animal. What an annoying character. "Shit."

They guy laughs and says "Ya. Truth syrum is one heck of a drug hu? And guess what, I got more questions." Thinking fast Morgan throws down a smoke bomb and runs to the door of the coffee shop. As the hit the door, and the bell rings. Morgan holding an old satchel walks over to a table and has a seat. Reaching into the bag they pull out a a fifty pound paper weight older model laptop sporting stickers and tape dukt-tape. As they pull it out, suddenly everything feels strange. Like a strange case of daja'vu. They shake their head as the power up the computer again.

The fan sputters a bit as it sounds like a jet engine as it comes to life, launching into Linux, the puzzle man's operating system. A server soon comes over and ask for their coffee order. Morgan gives them their order and proceeds to log in as their order is made. As Morgan pulls up a few text documents and begins typing away at their most recent plans, this time having a biy of inspiration after finding a few tapes of older cartoon series that have long been oit of production. They arr pulled from their though as the server comes up to them with their cofee. "That was fast. Thank you." Morgan says as they pay for their coffee.

It tast a bit off, just like last time Last time? No that's not right. Morgan shakes their haid and thinks of Alexis comment on going to bed, the reason they left the apartment complex before they grabbed them and made them into a blanket burrito, again.

Morgan took another sip and and began to look up where they can get an one to two ton anvil and wrote that can support it. As they typed away and looking for the resource they hear someone call out "What's the puzzle of the week Villan!"

Morgan, not bothering to look up, says "Looking to drop an anvils and see about setting up a few reverse falling cliffs. Wait, why would I tell you that? Didnt I already say that?" Morgan looks up to see one of thoes annoying kids from the small detective agency with a talking animal. What an annoying character. "Shit."

They guy laughs and says "Ya. Truth syrum is one heck of a drug hu? And guess what, I got more questions." Thinking fast Morgan throws down a smoke bomb and runs to the door of the coffee shop. As the hit the door, and the bell rings. Morgan stands there for a moment blinking before looking around.

They stand their for a moment. Rubbing their eyes, they turn around and say "Nope. I am not doing this a third time. Full me once shame on you. Fuke me twice shame on me. Full me thrice, you get a punch to the throat." Morgan turns around and pushes the door and the bell rings.

This time they are outside again and this time and they come face to face with Alex. Alex says "Now, are you ready to come home and go to bed?"

Morgana let's out a sigh, follioing it by saying "Fiiiiiiiiiiine." starts walking back towards the apartments. Alex hanging on their shoulder and commenting.

"I'll be honest, I thought I could get at least 6 loops before you noticed." And laughs.

[saturnisfallingdown]

I like to think that Morgan had NO clue who Alex was when they first met

[Image description: Two digital drawings of Alex and Morgan from the LighthouseRaiders S and D Tier series, redrawn to resemble a scene from Princess Mononoke. First image: The scene is nighttime in front of a starry sky. Morgan leans over something, holding a knife in both hands and shouting, looking angry and determined. They're depicted as slightly tan with short reddish dark hair. They wear a dark jean trucker jacket with a patch sewn into one sleeve, and fingerless biker gloves. Subtitles read "I'll cut your throat! That'll shut you up!". Second image: Alex, on the ground with the knife tip at their throat. They look up, speaking up to Morgan and looking enamored . They're depicted with pale skin, and long dark hair with a white stripe. They wear a blue turtleneck and dangling red/gold earrings. Subtitles read "You're beautiful..." End ID]

[stoppit-keepout]

The non-taxability of lottery winnings (S & D Tier fic, 1/?)

I didn’t make it in time for the wedding cut-off, but in my defense one of those weeks was my first week of mono, so I feel like I can be excused. This is a draft! it might change before going up on AO3. but i was enjoying my routine of posting here first so :) here! // title is from the wiki page on Income tax in Canada.

“Bad news first," Kris said as Morgan sat down across the cubicle from her. "Two of your minions are aging out of counting as dependants."

Morgan dragged a hand down their face. "We couldn't see this coming?"

"We," Kris intoned, arching her brow. "Warned you about this last year, and told you to get them to file--"

"--that medical paperwork. Shit."

"It's too late for this year, but you should be able to get them back, provided you file the forms with the green stickies by end of fiscal."

Morgan accepted the folder Kris was offering and nodded. "Sorry, Kris, time just really got away from me this year."

"Hm," Kris said. She took a huge drink of water before continuing. "It's not all bad news, the rest of the usual stuff was good to go. Home office, tuition credits, transit credit, you're all set there. Plus you sent over your business-related deductions in time, so that's your advertising for the building, expenses from repairs, and wages for contractors. On that, I've listed Lucy and Daveed as contractors at least until you can get them back as dependants next year."

"Thanks, Kris, you're the best."

Kris smiled but didn't otherwise acknowledge the compliment. "Even with all that, your deductibles are nowhere near what they could be."

"What?" Morgan frowned and rested their chin on their hand. It wasn't like Kris to acknowledge a failing without having a solution handy.

Kris snapped and pointed at the folder, so Morgan opened it. She said, "It's been two years that you've been living with Alex, right?" She didn't pause for an answer; she knew Morgan's life about as well as they did. "I took the liberty of pulling their records from the CRA, and I have to ask: Why aren't you married yet?"

"Uh," Morgan said. "We're not exactly..."

Not exactly what, they weren't sure. Diego was convinced that Alex was in love with them (admittedly aided by Morgan having lied about them dating), but they were...

Figuring it out. Shelving it.

Kris was already shaking her head dismissively. "You think I care? There's no need to be precious about it, you'd already be common-law in B.C."

Morgan swallowed and studied the contents of the folder. The forms for Lucy and Daveed were on the left, and on the right was a stack of additional paperwork with their names written side by side on each page. Alex Stewart, Morgan Sterling.

"You're not leveraging the Earned Income Tax Credit, you're not using even half the write-offs you could be," Kris said before popping a piece of gum in her mouth. "And based on what the CRA thinks they're making per year, you could probably move down a bracket. Maybe two."

She tapped a poster on the cubicle wall with a lovingly-rendered table of tax brackets.

Morgan squinted at it. "How much would that end up even saving me?" they asked.

Kris gave an answer.

Morgan made a conscious effort to close their mouth.

“Right now you're just leaving money on the table," Kris said. "Which is fine if that's what you want to do, but..."

--

"I'm just leaving money on the table, Diego," Morgan said despairingly.

"I don't know what you want me to do about it." Wind whistling through her comm line nearly obscured her words, but it didn't hide the fond tone. "I've already asked when you're gonna propose to them, and you've been squirrely about it for months."

"If we were in B.C. we'd already be common-law, apparently." Morgan wandered into the kitchen in an eleven PM sort of way.

"Morgan." She laughed, and Morgan worried at a gap in their teeth with their tongue. "Are you for real? Is the tax bracket thing really going to be what makes you propose?"

"It's so much money, is the thing."

The fridge groaned menacingly as Morgan activated the lever to open it. They may as well get some onions in the slow cooker for jammy onions on toast tomorrow morning.

"Plus there's the whole years-long relationship," Diego said. The noise on the line had died down. She must have found a rooftop with some wind-blocking architecture. "That should be the first reason on the list, that you love them."

It didn't sound like a lie when she said it, somehow. It sounded like when Morgan said they were partners. And why shouldn't it? Morgan loved Alex, they were best friends.

Still, too mushy, they had a reputation to maintain.

"It doesn't have to be all," Morgan waved their knife in the air to make scare-quotes. "'Ooh, serious feelings, sanctity of matrimony!' Can't two people just get married so they can reap those sweet, sweet tax benefits?"

"Marriage is about more than just tax benefits," Diego said, and then there was a crashing sound on her end of the line. "Okay, gotta go, talk soon!"

"Bye," Morgan said to a dial tone.

They continued to slice the onions into half-rings as they chewed over Diego's parting words. More than tax benefits, eh.

--

When they finished the list, it had six items on it.

1. Tax benefits 2. Family will get off our backs about proposing 3. Life insurance scams (Scheme 51A and 51B) 4. They'd get to make medical decisions for me if I ever need it 5. Getting Alex's shit if we get divorced 6. Not having to testify against each other in court

"That's what it's all about, baby," Morgan muttered, underlining each item with a flourish.

"What?" Alex asked from across the room.

"Just planning a trap room for Barnaby," Morgan said, and turned the paper over to work on their schematic. "Gotta keep him busy during my next heist."

"Have fun," Alex said. "And let me know if you need anyone to hold a flashlight."

--

The haunted trap room gimmick went great. Barnaby and Kotetsu were totally fooled by the mic setup and scent decoy; Barnaby really seemed to think Morgan was monitoring them in person when actually Morgan was halfway across the city finishing loading up the papayas while Barnaby studied the schematic Morgan had hidden behind an old picture frame.

"What's this?" Barnaby said, suddenly solemn.

"My nefarious scheme?" Morgan said after checking the camera feed being sent to their watch. "My evil plan that has come to... fruition?"

"Are you proposing?!" The stutter on the third word made it seem much more dramatic than Morgan thought it needed to be.

Right. They probably should have copied the clue onto a fresh sheet of paper. But hey, Barnaby was bound to find out someday, Morgan was probably gonna ask him to be the best man. This just bumped up the timeline, no real problem.

"Oh... Yeah? Maybe? Don't tell them," Morgan said, pausing as they shoved a crate of fruit on top of the stack in their transit van. "I want it to be a surprise."

"Morgan, I'm--!" he said. He looked around for the camera and made serious eye contact with the fake one above the doorframe. "You know I like Alex, kind of. But. They've killed a lot of people."

"I'm aware," Morgan said. They straightened up from where they were slouched against the crates in the van. They generally got along with Barnaby--they'd known each other for years and years--but in the rare moments this particular conversation came up, they could just feel themself... ceasing to care.

It felt like talking with their parents, which was to say it felt like absolutely nothing.

"They killed their last spouse," Barnaby said, plosives tripping them up more than usual as they raised their voice. "Gruesomely! For no reason at all!"

"Yeah, and then they took me to Cancun."

Cancun had been fun.

Morgan never understood why people were so much more fixated on the "killing the ex-wife" piece of the puzzle than the "disappearing from Morgan's life for six months" piece. One of those had been a lot harder to get past than the other, but well. Cancun had been really good. They'd planted a fake artefact in Yamil Lu'um for Ohio James to find, Alex had cleared a few beaches by turning into a shark, and they'd had mai tais and gotten some sun.

Morgan would do it again, is all they were saying.

They kept loading the fruit. Just the pineapples to go now.

"I'm not going to play devil's advocate to help you to talk yourself into this extremely reckless plan, Morgan," Barnaby said. He had the combination for the final lock displayed in the pattern of plant pots on the wall, but he wasn't moving to type it in, gaze fixed back on the paper in his hands. "It can't be the money, I know exactly what you charge your tenants."

Morgan may possibly have been over-charging Barnaby, but they were never going to admit to it. Besides, it was kind of like he was partially subsidising someone else's rent. He'd probably be fine with it, supporting lower income tenants and everything.

"It's not about needing the money," they said. Had Barnaby learned nothing from their years of nemesis-hood? Morgan wasn't just motivated by petty monetary gain.

"And it's not like the farmer's market thing!" Barnaby sighed. "This affects other people."

Morgan pulled a face. "Last I checked, it's only going to be a marriage between two people, and one of them's me." The pineapples were almost loaded now, too. "I think what you mean to say is that it affects other 'person'."

"It could end up being actually dangerous."

"Alex won't hurt me," Morgan said, the words coming out as a unit, so often they'd had to say exactly that.

The pineapples were done now. They hopped down and out.

"I didn't say it was going to be dangerous for you," Barnaby said.

"I don't follow." Morgan closed the transit van doors with more force than strictly necessary.

Kotetsu heard, the sneaky pup, and Barnaby's realization that he'd been duped and subsequent attempted pursuit put the conversation to rest.

"All set for the farmers' market tomorrow?" Alex asked when they got back.

They took their reading glasses off and rested them on their chest as they watched Morgan expectantly. Their hair was frizzy from lying upside down on the couch.

Something in Morgan's ribcage squeezed.

Nothing was going to put Alex in danger, actually.

"Will you marry me?" they replied.

"Yes. Wait. Why?"

--

As easy as that, they were engaged.

"What are you thinking, do you want to do a ceremony and everything, or do you just want the paperwork in as fast as possible?" Alex asked, too-carefully doling out two spring rolls to each of their plates.

Such a shit liar. Morgan could feel their eyes crinkle at the corners. Their fucking... fiance.

"Let's do a ceremony," they said. If they relished the slight tightening of Alex's grip on the take-out container, that was their own business. "Your parents would be so sad if we didn't."

What, they weren't about to start their marriage by being a selfish spouse. Alex could do literally anything, but they were fundamentally incapable of not making a scene about every detail of their life.

"Haha," Alex said out loud. "Yeah, wouldn't want to disappoint them."

"Plus, you know how I love to plan a heist. Organizing this is gonna be a fun challenge."

"Oh, the heroes are going to be so obnoxious," Alex said before primly taking a bite of their orange chicken.

Morgan took a much less elegant chomp out of their first spring roll and burnt their tongue for the three seconds it took Alex to snap and un-burn it.

"Thanks," they said, sipping air around the partially chewed food. "We'll make sure we've got a defensible venue."

That brought an insulted frown to Alex's perfectly-sculpted brows. "Morgan, please. It's my wedding. I will, you know, be there."

"Still, you shouldn't have to work too much." Morgan batted their eyelashes. "It is your special day!"

They were really good at picking up on when Alex got flushed, even though their skin tone usually hid it. "It will be both of our special day," they corrected.

--

Kris sent a congratulations card post-marked one day before the proposal, so Morgan made a to-do list item to check whether she had psychic powers. They had a lot of to-do lists, which they organized at their and Alex's Weekly Tax Wedding Planning Party. Alex may have improved a lot in terms of heist-planning, but Morgan wasn't going to leave this up to them, and the wedding was only a month away.

"The officiant's taken care of, unless you want something specific there?" Alex said.

"When you say 'taken care of'..."

"Oh yeah, it turns out one of my minions has a side hustle marrying people. Figured we didn't need to complicate things."

"Convenient," Morgan said.

"Yeah, it's nice to keep it in the family," Alex said. "Between Jammer's catering experience and Daveed's design shit, it's really just the music we're going to have to go outside for."

Yuri had made a point of mentioning that he had a DJ set-up the last time Morgan had seen him. Alex might not have been terribly interested in most people's private lives, but Morgan could smell something fishy.

"Sure," they said, and tabbed over on their phone to their texting app.

Gus first; he was a soft touch when it came to sentimental things. Gus, have you and Alex's minions been plotting behind our backs about our personal lives? They hesitated over that last word. Would 'life' be more appropriate? But the minions knew they weren't actually dating, they didn't need to over-play the 'united front' with them. They sent it as it was.

"I've updated my colour scheme powerpoint," Alex said. "If this doesn't convince you that red and black are the colours of the season, then I'm going to go ahead and mind control you into believing it."

Morgan looked up at the ceiling for some assistance. "It's overdone," they said. "Scarlet Death did the exact same thing last year, do you want to look like you're copying B-tier villains now?"

"I can just wipe everyone's memory of their wedding," Alex said. "No big."

"I'd still remember. And do you want me knowing my wedding is a rip-off of someone else's?"

"Well it can't be purple and white, that's just ridiculous," Alex said.

"Aubergine and bone, thank you."

A light on Morgan's phone blinked. Gus: We're happy for you, boss, is that a crime now?

Cheap trick. Morgan glared at Gus's name.

The light blinked again. And do we suddenly care about what's a crime now?

Well, he had them there.

A third and final blink. If you need a hand with vows, Emily's school is doing their poetry unit.

Fuck off, Gus.

--

Vows.

Shit.

[ETA: there’s a part 2 now!]

[awhimproned]

another fic idea of mine is ss-tier villain ed x d-tier villain stede . which is practically canon. but. lmao

[bogkeep]

"god, you suck at intros. why did i even ask you to do this" speaking of the "if you keep bringing me coffee every morning, i am gonna fall in love with you" video, i kind of wrote a fic around that the other day :v

[faetaleplots]

A Meeting to Remember. Or Not.

It's taken me way too long to post this, but-

“They first met when Alex hired Morgan to scare some potential investors away from some property assuming that Morgan would like, rough them up in an alley and not dress up like a ghost and pretend like the property is haunted, which Morgan did. It was shockingly more effective than beating people up in an alley.” -Lighthouseraiders

this fic is 4k

TW: swearing

Technically Alex could have just snapped the investors out of existence or dealt with them some other way on their own, they were powerful enough that it would probably take them under a minute to do so. Counter point, if they went around attacking civilians, supposedly unprovoked it could ruin the entire ‘brooding and mysterious and don’t approach the rabid dog even though it just looks lonely™’ vibe they had going, which would kinda suck. So instead they took the classic ‘too powerful to really care, get a henchman to take care of it for them™’  way out. They opened a search tab on their phone, typed in “villain for hire” and watched pages of results show up. They scrolled to the very bottom of the first one without even looking at all the hero propaganda and news articles about successful or failed attempts on heroes’ lives, and skipped the first twelve pages that came up. Thirteen had always been a lucky number for Alex. A link caught their eye and they scrolled, though Alex couldn’t pinpoint why it did. Still, they clicked it, curious enough to check it out. The link led Alex to a blog, interestingly enough, though there were very few posts on it. At the top in large font it advertised: 

E-tier villain for hire

No questions asked

Payment negotiable

Will work long term

Will take care of people

Will not act as bait for heroes

Will set traps for enemies

    Will work undercover

Underneath that was an email and a phone number, which Alex assumed were for contacting the villain in question. They browsed the site for a few more minutes (there really wasn’t much else on it) before shrugging to themself and clicking the email. They liked the part about “taking care” of people, not to mention that few low tier villains ever set boundaries because they were afraid it would make higher tier villains dislike them and either not hire them or kill them. So Alex would send this person an email and if they didn’t like the E-tier villain’s work then they could just kill them. Simple as that. Satisfied with their solution, Alex began composing an email.

Morgan hated his job. He hated working in customer service and he hated being forced to put up with people’s shit everyday. And for what? Just so he could earn minimum wage so he could live in a shitty, literally illegal apartment, and use the little money that was left after rent to feed himself. Although most of the time he didn’t even do that. It was an awful way for anyone to live, but it was downright shameful for someone who called themself a villain. 

And yet it was still somehow better than being his brother’s sidekick. Being a sidekick was horrible. As a sidekick to a hero, he wasn’t technically working for the FA, legally making him an independent contractor, which meant that they were legally allowed to pay him less than minimum wage, charge him to rent the costumes he wore from the FA and he would be charged extra if the costume got damaged. It meant he had no insurance, and pretty much couldn’t leave. It was an entirely corrupt system that financially ruined any sidekick as long as they didn’t die first. And then the FA had the audacity to call themselves the “good guys”. 

Morgan groaned into his couch when he heard a notification from across the room. His phone must still be in his bag, which he’d dropped at the door the second he got into his apartment, which sucked for him because he didn’t want to get up and face the cold floor. On the other hand, that was a notification from his email, and no one emailed him, so…

Morgan held his blanket tighter and braced himself for the cold that came with the floor (or really just anywhere) of his apartment in any season other than summer. Morgan hopped his way over to his bag, snatched his phone, and booked it back to the couch faster than he’d ever run from the police. Once he had returned to the safety of the disintegrating couch, hidden beneath his one blanket, Morgan unlocked his phone and opened his email, praying that the notification hadn’t been for spam.

He almost deleted the email, seeing that the sender was unknown, but he hesitated. It had been sent to the email that he’d put on that website he set up a while ago, so maybe…

Morgan bit his lip as he scanned the email, becoming increasingly relieved that he hadn’t deleted it. It was from some higher tier villain who needed to get some investors off their property, a simple enough job. Morgan didn’t know who the villain was, but he supposed that if they were hiring outside people instead of doing it themselves or using their henchmen they wanted the task to be unconnected to them. At this point Morgan just cared if the pay was legitimate. And when he saw the payment proposed by them he had to make sure his eyes were working. That was enough to support him for the next two years, more than enough time to actually plan a heist like he wanted to— enough to help him actually kick off his villain career. He’d been a villain for about a year and a half already, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance to do anything. And the job honestly sounded way too easy for that much, but that meant that Morgan was willing to take the risk that it might be a scam. He quickly typed out a response and asked for more details.

This was going to be fun.

The agreed on date had been exactly a week after Morgan received the email and he had been filled with excitement all week. This was pretty much his first heist since running away from his family, and it almost made him forget how much he hated his life.

The day of the job, Morgan called into work, saying he was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it in, embellishing his performance with a perfected ‘sick voice’ and perfectly timed coughs. The moment he got off the call, Morgan left and locked his apartment and lugged his bags downstairs. Living on the top floor was awful, but it meant he didn’t have a bunch of people walking by his door all the time. Plus it was the only apartment available when he moved in and Morgan really didn’t want to go through the hassle of dragging his couch up or down stairs again.

He finally managed to make it to the closest bus station, both of his bags intact, though his back was less so. The bags were almost overflowing with gear and Morgan honestly dreaded the end of the day when he would have to lug everything back home again.

The bus arrived five minutes late, or at exactly the time Morgan had expected it to, depending on who you asked. The commute to the property wasn’t a long one, but it took Morgan outside of the area he was used to. Not that Morgan was surprised. He’d done his research, he knew where he was going. It didn’t change the fact that he was out of his comfort zone, but he knew what he was doing.

He was the only person to get off at the stop and all the other passengers gave him odd looks because of it. He supposed that was normal– he really didn’t look like he belonged around here. The neighborhood looked like one of those streets that actors would walk around dressed like Dickens characters during December where tourists could pay for a carriage ride or overpriced hot chocolate whilst people in clothing from the 1940s sang outdated and overrated Christmas carols. Meanwhile Morgan, wearing a pair of jeans he hadn’t replaced for two years and a shirt that he often used to mop up spilled coffee with a bulging and worn out backpack slung on each shoulder, looked like he’d been homeless for a while. It didn’t help that his hair was just the wrong side of shaggy and far too straight to look good by any means. But Morgan didn’t care what the stuck-up, judgy people on the bus thought of him– he had better things to think about.

It didn’t take Morgan long to find the property he would be protecting, and it took even less time to break into it. Checking his phone, he saw that he had about forty minutes until the investors were set to show up, meaning he had about twenty five minutes, counting on the possibility that they might be at most ten minutes early, and quickly went to work, setting up the house exactly how he’d need it to be.

Morgan had not counted on the blueprints he’d found online being for a different house, but they were similar enough and he was good at improvising. Unfortunately that meant he finished ten minutes after he’d planned on and had only just finished setting up the kitchen when he heard the front door open. Cursing under his breath, Morgan ran as quickly as he could to get into position, stepping on quite a few creaky floor boards, but sure that no footsteps were heard. It was a skill he’d picked up quite early on in his years living in his parent’s house.

By the time all three of the investors were inside the house Morgan was in position, a bit winded, though that was mainly due to the adrenaline coursing through him. He’d picked the perfect vantage point to see almost the entire first floor from where he was, and what he saw made him smirk. The investor that was furthest into the house (probably the first one to enter) was looking around a bit nervously. The second was rolling his eyes and the third seemed to be straining to hear something– probably footsteps. Who knew that being caught off guard would benefit Morgan’s plan?

“It’s an old house, George,” The second man was saying to the first, “Old houses creak. And old houses exist. But do you know what doesn’t exist? Ghosts.” He scoffed and pushed past the other man and into the kitchen. “We’re here for the property not it's history.” Morgan grimaced a bit. If they didn’t know anything about the history of this place that might take  his plan down a notch. Pity, it had been really fun to do all the research and to figure out how to incorporate it all into his plan.

“A– There was a woman who died here in the 1930s, though…” The third man spoke up. Good, at least someone else did their research. “She was this dancer– Margret Can?” Her name was Margret Cain, but whatever. “She, um, I think she went missing and ended up being found here in the 70s.” 

The man that had been called George turned to the historian, still looking around like the wall paper might come alive and eat him. “Found? What do you mean ‘found,’ Mike?” Morgan really should have been filming this all– maybe he should write a horror movie script about it at some point.

“Her body. It was found bricked up in the chimney. Since then this place hasn’t had anyone live in it for much longer than a few months.” Morgan could see George swallow and finally look away from the house to make eye contact with Mike. Perfect. Their pre-existing fear would benefit him greatly.

The tension was broken by the other man yelling at them from the kitchen. “Jesus Christ– this place will need a lot of work but boy will people pay big bucks for it when we fix it up. What are you two doing out there, making flower crowns? Get in here.” It seemed like he was in charge, or at least like he thought he was. The other two scrambled into the kitchen, taking in the cobwebs and dust covering all the counters. The kitchen sink was dripping, set up by one of Morgan’s cheap machines that he had made in the middle of the night, being kept up by coffee, energy drinks, and pure determination. He really hoped it didn’t explode. The idea was that it would drip exactly twelve times every half a second, wait three seconds, then repeat. The liquid that was dripping was a concoction Morgan had made of some very watery goo and the tiniest bit of red dye, so that you wouldn’t even notice the color as it dripped unless you really looked. But the more drips into the sink, the redder it would get. And Morgan had made certain that the kitchen sink’s drain was clogged. 

Mike noticed the odd dripping pattern first, cautiously inching over to the sink to watch the drips. Morgan can see a crease in the man’s brow as he sees the tint of color. “Keith? George? This water look a bit off to you?”

“Probably just from rust.” Said the man who must be Keith without turning to look. “Stop making up excuses and let’s move on.” George looked back and forth between Keith and the sink before seeming to decide that just moving on would be better for his sanity and leaving Mike alone with the sink and Morgan. Unlike the other two, Mike didn’t seem to be so quick to brush off the sink, creeping close enough to peek into the basin. Morgan really should have been recording this because he was pretty sure Mike had just broken the world record for highest pitch hit by human vocal chords. In the sink, covered in the reddish not-water, was a severed hand. Morgan had gotten it from an after Halloween sale a few years back and had taken some… artistic liberties to make it look more realistic. Honestly he was just glad it was finally getting put to good use– it had been sitting in his medicine cabinet for a while. 

Morgan was quite a talented artist when he was engaged in a project, and the hand had apparently been the tipping point for Mike. Pity, really, Morgan frowned as he watched the investor sprint out of the room fast enough that Morgan almost thought he had super speed. The E-Tier villain had been hoping they would last longer, but he supposed the other two would have to do.

Said pair of investors had jumped at the scream and watched as their coworker all but vanished back onto the street. A full five seconds of no sound other than the drip drip drip coming from Morgan’s invention.

“Weak.” Kieth growled. Morgan smirked, hearing the only partially hidden fear in his voice. “C’mon. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel, leading the way into the dining room, completely unaware of the feast that awaited them there.

When Alex hired someone to get rid of their investor issue, they had been thinking that said person would beat the investor would be beating the problems up in some alley somewhere. That’s what hired villains normally did. Well this one was apparently NOT normal. Alex had shown up at the house expecting to hand off the cash and never speak to the other villain again. Instead they found two of the three investors still in their house, climbing the stairs to the attic and looking quite terrified. Alex was already invisible from the fight they’d come from and decided they might as well stay that way while looking for the E-tier villain who apparently had no idea how to do their job. However, Alex was unable to find the villain just by simply looking around. They truly had no idea what the other looked like and they obviously weren’t in sight. Fine. Alex would just follow the investors and if the two men walked out of the house Alex would simply kill all three of them.

Of the two men, the one leading the was whipping his head around at every perceived sound, eyes wild, while the other man clung to his arm, apparently whispering something to himself. Alex slightly adjusted their senses, frowning when they heard, “Not real, not real, not real, not real-” coming from the mouth of the whispering man. 

“Would you shut up?” Alex winced as the other man whisper-yelled at his companion, shaking his arm free and reaching the door at the top of the stairs. “If it weren’t for you we’d be out of here already!” He turned the doorknob and looked into the abyss-like darkness for a moment before taking a breath and stepping inside. “Light switch should be here somewhere…” He muttered to himself. Alex could imagine the man feeling the walls for a lightswitch but couldn’t see him. “Aha!” The sound of a switch being flicked and a slightly concerning buzz of a light bulb broke through the darkness. “What are you doing on the steps you coward?” The leader scoffed at the other man. “Get in here.” The man reluctantly stepped through the doorway. The first man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him farther into the room. Alex moved to follow the two of them but instead ended up walking into a wall of wood as the door slammed shut. Frowning, Alex teleported themself into the Attic instead, and what they saw… confused them to say the least, one might have said that it freaked Alex out. That was if one could see Alex whilst they were invisible and had a death wish.

In the time it had taken them to teleport into the room, the overhead lightbulb had been shattered, smoke or fog or something had covered the entire floor, a red light was coming from somewhere, and there was a third… being that was standing in the center of the room. It was draped in old grays and whites and lace and the slightest hint of greens and they melded perfectly into the fog as if it was part of them. The being took a gliding step towards the two investors, both of whom were trembling and clinging to each other tightly. Alex felt intimidated, and they weren’t even the one being advanced upon.

“You will leave. This is my place and you have no right.” Oh wow. That voice definitely fit. It felt like the walls agreed with the being. Agreed that whoever they were, they had full authority. Alex was actually considering giving the deed up to them. “You will never come back and you will never speak of this. Heed me for I have power not just over this house but now over you.” The two men were nodding frantically, scratching at the door like dogs in an attempt to get out to escape to stay alive. “Leave.” The being said with a finality and the door swung open with ease, hitting both men, not that they stopped to nurse their new wounds. No, they were far too busy getting the hell out of there and as far away as they could. Alex stood stock still, forgetting that they were invisible and waiting for the being to notice them and turn its rage on them. Instead the creature started laughing. “O-oh my god! Their faces!” The voice had changed completely, breaking the spell. The being trotted through the fog to turn something off (Alex later realized it was a fog machine) and began what seemed to be clean up, still laughing. Alex shook themself, realizing that this was their chance.

Whilst the other’s back was turned, Alex made themself visible once more, leaning up against a wall to make themself look cool. “Oh yes, their faces really were a sight. Suppose that makes it even more of a shame no pictures were taken.” Alex watched bemused as the other–who just a minute ago had been the most terrifying thing Alex had ever seen–jumped out of their skin. The being grabbed the closest thing to them and brandished their newfound weapon at Alex. Unfortunately, said weapon happened to be a can of hairspray that sounded empty. Alex snorted at the attempt and pushed their attacker’s hands down. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you. Are you the E-Tier villain?” Alex was pretty sure they were, but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Um, yeah– who the fuck are you?” Alex decided that the other villain was not going to clock them with the empty can and removed their hands.

“I’m here to pay you.” They reached into the inside pocket of their coat and pulled out the cash they had promised in their email. “And my name is Alex.” They slipped the bills into one of the other villain’s hands and kissed their knuckles, winking up at them as they did.

The other villain looked thoroughly confused. “Um, okay?” Alex raised an eyebrow at them, part of them curious as to why this low tier villain was not begging for their mercy. That was normally what happened when Alex revealed themself to people.

“You know, typically when a person introduces themself it is polite to respond with an introduction of one’s own.” They prompted.

“Bold of you to assume I would be polite.” The other person had sass and apparently had no idea who Alex was. They were turning out to be quite entertaining.

Alex smirked, looking at the wall beside them, pretending to think. “Perhaps. Then again, I did just pay you.” They watched the other size them up before backing away slightly.

“Morgan. He/him.” He finally answered, glaring at Alex. 

“Well, Morgan,” Alex began, leaning back against the wall, “What you did up here was impressive and I think I missed most of it.”

Morgan turned away but Alex could hear in the tone of his voice that he was pleased with the compliment and proud of himself. “This was probably the easiest part.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big thing.

“Easy?” Alex asked incredulously. “I don’t understand how you did a single part of that.” They would have assumed that Morgan had the power of creating illusions, except that would make him C-Tier at least.

Morgan was taking off the outfit that looked hand made, pulling it over his head, so his response came out a bit muffled. “Really it was easy enough. I just had to make a lightbulb that I could easily shatter, then time the breaking of it perfectly so that by the time the back up lights came on I would be directly in front of them.” Morgan shrugged again. “And the door was just strong magnets. All I had to do was temporarily create an electromagnetic field to demagnetize them long enough for them to get in and out. Don’t worry- I can take them out of the door so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Alex understood nothing that Morgan had just said but boy did they want him to keep talking. “Um, you said you did other stuff around the place? What did you do?” The spark that flared up in the E-Tier’s eyes was worth not killing the investors– Alex almost forgot that they had even existed in the first place.

Alex trailed after Morgan around the house as he gathered all his stuff into two overflowing backpacks, trying their best to follow Morgan’s rambling, though to be honest they were never all that good at science or tech, which seemed to be Morgan’s area of expertise. All the same, they listened intently, waiting for Morgan to breathe so Alex could ask for his number. For work purposes, of course. Unfortunately, the only time Morgan stopped talking was to take a call, after which he spat out a quick goodbye and rushed out the door, taking all of his stuff with him and leaving Alex behind with no explanation or phone number.

When Alex got back to their lair they decided to see if they could find more information on the other villain, but google gave them nothing and now they couldn’t even find the blog that had been how they found Morgan in the first place they groaned and shut their computer a bit more forcefully than intended, snapping in fully in half. Damnit. Alex had gotten this one, what, two days ago? And they’d actually liked the stickers they’d put on it this time. 

Despite their intent of finding Morgan again, the E-Tier slipped to the back of Alex’s mind and they quickly got caught up in other things. But they didn’t forget that day– the first day they met Morgan.

[escaped-cryptid]

You know a fic is great when it gets you into a whole new genre of fic