#sometimes you just gotta make sure what wounds are fatal and how long people can survive them you know

[just-jessiejames]

I love looking up things for writing that would definitely be suspicious to an fbi agent *coughs* It's for research I SWEAR. I'm not going to ACTUALLY do this...

To real people.

[kyber-crystal]

Whatever it Takes

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~4.1k

Summary: In which Steve is always there for you through thick and thin. And in return, even when everything seems like it’s going wrong, you give him hope for a better future.

Warnings: angst (I mean this is Endgame, what do you expect), soft steve, mentions of death, violence

A/N: CRINGEY AF BC THIS IS AN OLD ONESHOT. I’m currently working on something else so I’m just putting this up as a filler oops

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ as always :)

Steve sat outside the compound staring at the floor, deep in thought. With the only possibility of victory no longer an opportunity, he didn't know what else to do. 

Then, a deafening noise broke the silence in the distance and he glanced up, seeing a familiar Audi R8 speeding towards the entrance. The car pulled over to him but went a bit too far, then reversed. Tony rolled down the window as he stopped.

"Why the long face? Let me guess, he turned into a baby."

"Among other things, yeah. What are you doing here?"

Tony got out of the car and walked around to the back, ignoring his question. "That's the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might've wound up pushing time through Lang. It's tricky. Dangerous. Somebody should've cautioned you against it."

"You did."

"Oh, did I? Thank God I'm here. Regardless, I fixed it," He held up his right hand with a device on it, "A fully-functioning Time-Space GPS. I just want peace. Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it."

"Me too."

"We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities: Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And...maybe not die trying will be nice."

"Sounds like a deal," Steve nodded, reaching out to shake his hand.

Tony reached back into his trunk to pull something else out, Steve's shield. He handed it over to him but he hesitated for a moment.

"Tony..."

"Why? He made it for you," he referred to his father, "Plus, honestly I have to get it out of the garage before Y/N sneaks over and takes it sledding. I wouldn't give up just yet."

He finally took the shield from him and fit his arm into it.

"Thank you, Tony."

"Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn't bring one for the whole team....We are getting the whole team, yeah?"

"We're working on that right now."

"Steve."

The super-soldier looked up, confused at the sudden seriousness in his tone. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for Y/N...when I failed to do that, you were there to take my place," he explained. "Being a single parent was the toughest job I was ever faced with. Her mother disappeared without another word as soon as she gave birth, and I was left to handle Y/N all on my own. I was only 18. I'd made a shit ton of reckless decisions before and now, I was stuck and didn't know what to do. So for her entire life, before Pepper came along, she had to grow up with only one parent. She became defensive and cold-hearted and I couldn't do anything about it. I try to push her, she pushes back, or she shuts herself out altogether. I try to understand why, she sinks deeper. Sometimes I don't know just what's going on with her and as much as I try to be understanding, I can't. But you saved her, Rogers. I don't know what you've been doing to make her change but it's working, and I want to thank you for that."

"Tony, you did a good job raising her. But you have the rest of the team to thank as well."

"I think she's softened up because of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never seen her look at a man the way she looks at you," the billionaire pointed out.

"With hatred and a burning passion to kill me if I ever stepped onto her bad side?"

"No, her eyes get all sparkly and shit. She's in love with you. But I swear, if you do anything to hurt her and break her heart, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

Steve's eyes widened slightly, and he put his hands in the air in surrender. "Okay, I won't."

"One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"If all of this, what we're doing somehow goes south, something goes wrong, I need you to promise me one thing. Take care of Y/N. I need someone to watch over her when I'm gone, and I don't think there's anyone more qualified for that job than you."

"I promise."

...

"And I...am...Iron Man."

You looked over in horror to see Tony snap his fingers with a loud 'CLANG' and a blinding flash of white. Rocket fired at a Leviathan and before it devoured him, it crumbled into ash. The Black Order started crumbling to ash as well. T'Challa and Quill looked around in surprise; Steve looked on in exhaustion, knowing that they had won. Thanos, in horror, looked around and saw his entire army disintegrate. He looked at Steve, who just stared blankly at him. Thanos sat down, mourning before slowly being erased from existence himself.

The raw power of the gauntlet's energy left Tony's entire right side fatally injured. He stumbled for a bit before his body collapsed besides a pile of debris. Rhodey soon swooped in and went up to see his long time colleague and friend slowly fading away before his eyes and not long after, Peter did the same as well.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter ran up to his fallen mentor, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. "Can you hear me? It's Peter. Hey. We won, Mr. Stark. We won. You did it, sir. You did it. I'm sorry—Tony—"

He barely had any energy left to respond as Peter choked on a sob, wrapping his arms around him before gently being led aside by Wanda as she put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

Pepper sat down in front of him, "Hey."

Tony was barely able to move his head, but managed to look her in the eyes. "Hey, Pep..."

She placed her hand on his arc reactor, and he rested his hand on hers as she took a good look at his injuries.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"

"Life functions critical."

Tony smiled with tears in his eyes.

"Dad? Hey, you're okay," you said softly as you approached him, "You did it. We're gonna be okay."

"Hey, angel," he said weakly as he took your hand in his. You tried to ignore how deathly cold it felt. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

"Tony. Look at me," Pepper moved closer to you as she made sure Tony got a long look at her smiling face. You involuntarily leaned into her, as you felt the familiar sting of tears to your eyes. "We're gonna be okay. You can rest now."

With that acknowledgement, the light in his arc reactor flickered off for good. Unable to contain your grief, you let out a tortured cry, sobbing into Pepper's chest as she started to cry on his shoulder.

Earth's best defender was dead.

Dead.

Your father, your everything, the light of your life. Dead.

You flinched when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder all of a sudden as you stood up, jolting you from your thoughts. Steve stood there with glassy, red-rimmed eyes, which was a rare sight because he never displayed any emotions other than confidence and complete control—and it was beginning to take a toll on your already broken heart. He was always strategizing and planning things out, charging headfirst into battle without a second thought and now he was on the verge of breaking down, tucking you close into his side.

So you let yourself collapse into his touch, a sob escaping your lips as you clung on to him like you did to Tony when you were a little girl.

You're not quite sure how long you stand there like that, tightly clutching America's war hero like you'll slip away if you let go. He was a life raft, and you were stranded at sea, hopelessly lost with the stormy waves violently crashing over you and choking you as you struggled to escape.

Eleven years. Eleven years had passed since you first met Steve Rogers, and his unwavering promise to you that he'd stay by your side no matter the circumstance still stood. Since the day you first joined the Avengers Initiative he'd been a major figure in your life, always sticking by and supporting you when no one else was around to do so. He picked you up when you fell; he didn't judge you on your rough past nor your worst mistakes.

Now you found that you were needing him more than ever.

And in that moment, Steve knew, he had to keep his promise. Not just for your sake, but for Tony's as well. 

So he swore to himself on his life that he’d never leave your side.

...

With a heavy heart, you dragged yourself out of bed to get ready for Tony's funeral. Alongside Pepper, you carried a wreath out of the house with his first arc reactor framed with the words 'Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart' and laid it on the lake, watching as it slowly drifted away.

Everyone was finally gathered together as one, although it wasn't in the way you'd imagined it to be. Happy, Rhodey, Pepper, you, Peter and May. Thor. Bruce, Strange, Steve, Wong, Scott, Hope, Janet, Hank, Quill, and the rest of the Guardians. T'Challa, Okoye, and Shuri. Clint and his family. Wanda. Bucky. Sam, Harley Keener, Secretary Ross, Maria Hill, Carol, and even Fury, who was silently watching in the back.

After it ended you stood at the edge of the lake, hands stuffed in your leather jacket's pockets as you stared blankly out at the water. It was hard for you to think about how you were supposed to move on after losing one of the most important people in life, hard to imagine who you'd turn to now that the one man who gave you better advice than anyone you knew was gone.

"You know, I wish there was a way—that I could let him know," you said without looking behind to see Steve, who'd been watching you for a bit, "how much I loved him. Because I didn't get to tell him before he—you know."

"He knows," he said as you turned around to meet his gaze, "and he loved you more than anything." Almost as much as I do.

"I never got to tell him," your voice broke, lashes brimming heavy with unshed tears, "I just—I just wish I could turn back time and tell him that. But I didn't, and—"

Before you had the chance to finish your sentence, he circled his arms around your waist and pulled you close. At that moment you broke down into heaving sobs that ripped through your chest and your throat and your heart, unable to contain your grief for any longer, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. And he just held you there in silence, rocking you back and forth slowly as your tears soaked his suit.

Steve wonders exactly how much more heartbreak he can take because to see you in a condition such as this one wasn't doing him any good, making his heart feel as if it was being shattered into a thousand pieces, then put back together only to be broken again into a million more smaller parts. He hated seeing the woman he cared about so much in pain and found himself wishing there was just some way he could just take it all away from you.

"I just really miss him," you choked out, "I...I don't know what Pepper and I are gonna do without him."

"I know. I miss him too," he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead and pulling you closer, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. "We all do."

"You're not going to leave, are you?" you mumbled into his chest, "Please don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise," he reassured you, smoothing your hair back, "Whenever you need me, I'll be here."

"Okay," you let out a shuddering sigh, "okay."

...

You headed back inside, as Steve led you to the living room with a hand on the small of your back as you sat down on the couch, taking the letter that Happy gave to you.

"He hated writing letters. Always insisted on typing everything up, but he hand wrote this for your sake," Happy explained quietly. "I've never seen someone love their kid as much as he loved you."

"I loved him, too," you smiled sadly. "Thank you, Happy. For everything."

"No worries, sweetheart," he nodded solemnly. "Anything for his little girl."

The super-soldier gripped your hand encouragingly, lacing your fingers together and squeezing tightly as you unfolded the paper.

To my sweet Y/N.

If you're reading this, it means I've been faced with my untimely death. I mean, not that death at any time isn't untimely. This time travel thing that we're gonna try and pull off tomorrow...it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That's the thing. Then again, that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. But what am I tripping for? Everything's gonna work out exactly the way it's supposed to.

When I first found out I was getting a daughter, I was sure I'd never be able to handle the responsibility of having a child. I didn't plan on becoming a parent so early and I was afraid, terrified I'd fail you as a father. And I feared that I did, many times. I was afraid you'd grow to resent me for what I'd done. But I persisted, because I wanted to give you the best possible life I could despite that raising you alone was probably the most difficult thing I've ever done. But it was all worth it in the end, because I got to see you grow up and become this beautiful, accomplished and talented young woman who would do anything for those she loves.

Look, I don't want you to make the same mistakes as I did. When the time comes, I want you to find a man that's willing to settle down with you and give you his whole heart- that's how you know he's the one. Hell, if you're going to go and get with Rogers, I wouldn't mind that either. Over this past decade, I've never seen someone as dedicated to protecting you and staying loyal to you as him and if you decide to get together, I'd be more than happy to give you my blessing. Honestly, I think the entire team's been shipping you two since the day you first met (Don't tell Sam I exposed him as a softie, though, he's going to kill me if I do. Or Clint). Seriously, though. Capsicle loves you, more than you'll ever know. And much more than he's willing to admit himself.

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid to let your guard down, to be vulnerable and let the ones you love in. I know you're afraid of getting hurt, I know you believe that by building up those mile-high walls around your heart you think you're saving yourself, but it's really only going to hurt you in the long run. Love is messy. Sometimes you gotta suck it up and deal with the pain; that's just how it is. You get hurt, you get heartbroken, and there's a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. It's a messy process.

If you ever feel like giving up, like you just can't go on any further, just know that there's always someone out there who's rooting for you. You got me, the team. SHIELD's got your back, so does Happy, and even Peter. Know that there's always hope.

Remember that your past does not define who you are. Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.

You are not what has happened to you. You are what you choose to become.

Thank you for being born and coming into my life, becoming the best thing that's ever happened to a guy like me. Remember I'll always be with you no matter what, angel. I love you 3,000.

From, the arm-wrestling champion, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, your dad, and #1 fan. I love you so much. -T.S

A tear slipped down your cheek and dripped onto the paper, staining the corner with a dark spot as you folded it back up and set it on the table. You rested your head against Steve's broad shoulder as he wrapped an around your waist in a protective manner, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your forehead.

...

Several days passed and Steve knew it was growing closer to the time he would be forced to make the most difficult decision of his life. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew what he was about to do was absolutely necessary to restore the universe to normal once again.

Night after night for the next three weeks, you woke up screaming with sweat streaming down your face, a shiver running down your spine and images of Tony dying in front of your eyes with you not being able to do anything about it flashing in your brain. He'd come into your room without question, climb into bed next to you, and hold you close, rocking you back and forth and humming old lullabies his mother used to sing to him as a child until you fell asleep, your breathing and rapid heartbeat finally steadying.

Everyone could tell something was going on between the two of you, but because you were so heavily weighed down by your grief that you didn't think before you did anything, they didn't question why you were suddenly so close to the super-soldier. He was your anchor, your safe haven you so desperately needed and were convinced would sink below your endless stream of thoughts without.

The dreaded day finally came and with a heavy heart, Steve got up and watched your peacefully sleeping figure in bed for a moment before leaving and heading outside.

Bucky, Bruce, and Sam were already waiting by the time he met them by the time machine.

He then walked over to Bucky. "Don't do anything stupid 'till I get back."

"How could I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

The two men both exchanged a quick hug with each other.

"Stay safe, buddy."

"It's gonna be okay, Buck. If this somehow—takes longer than it's supposed to—or I don't come back at all—promise me you'll watch out for her, alright?"

"I will," Bucky nodded.

Steve went over to the Quantum portal, donning the red and white suit.

"How long is this going to take?" you asked.

"For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds," Bruce replied.

The super-soldier picked up Mjolnir 2013.

"Ready, Cap? Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay?"

"You bet."

"Going quantum. Three, two, one—"

With that, he disappeared into the quantum tunnel.

"And returning in five, four, three, two, one—"

Steve didn't appear on the pad right away, and Bruce looked around the equipment in confusion.

"Where is he?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here."

"Well, get him back."

"I'm trying."

"Get him the hell back!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!"

"Sam," Bucky cut in.

Sam walked towards him, and him, Bucky, and Bruce saw his familiar broad-shouldered figure in the distance, so they went near him.

"Go ahead," Bucky gestured over to him with a small smile.

Sam went over to Steve, who was silently staring out at the water ahead with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He still looked the same, with his signature leather jacket and khakis. If it weren't for the subtle lines etched in his face from years of enduring hard battles against both himself and other enemies, from his newfound grief, one would think he was barely over thirty years old.

"Cap?"

"Hey, Sam."

"So did something go wrong, or did something go right?"

"Well, after I put the stones back, I thought, maybe I'll try some of that life Tony was telling me to get."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"It was beautiful."

"I'm happy for you. Truly."

"But when I saw how happy she looked living her life...I didn't want to take that away from her," the super-soldier explained. "Seeing that she was able to move on made me realize I could do the same. I can't stay in a relationship when I know my heart belongs to someone else. I made Stark a promise to look after her....I can't do that if I'm not here."

"Is that why you didn’t stay?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled faintly, "I couldn't leave her behind."

"Well, uh...she's inside, if you're looking for her—"

"Steve?"

"Uhhhhh....never mind, there she is," Sam gestured to you as you were stepping down the porch and making your way across the lawn to him. "You want me to give you two a moment?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

You picked up your pace, sprinting towards him as fast as you possibly could into his embrace. 

"Y/N—"

"Why'd you come back? I thought you were going to, you know—stay with Peggy—"

"I couldn't, Y/N, and you know that."

"Why not?"

He pulled away, letting his gaze linger on your face for a bit before brushing a stray hair behind your ear. "I made a promise I couldn't break. I'd never be able to forgive myself for it if I did."

"What promise?"

"Tony made me swear on my life that I'd stay no matter what happened."

"Steve..." your voice wavered as you forced yourself to look straight up at him, those icy-blue eyes that never seemed to fail to give you chills and make butterflies flutter around in your stomach, "Why did you throw away your one chance of having a happy ending? Now I'm the reason why your last chance of living the life you always wanted was taken away from you. I can't—I don't want to stop you from being with whom you love. You came back, even when you had the chance to live out the future that you'd been looking forward to for so long. And you didn't take it. Why?"

"I don't need to stay, when my entire future is standing right in front of me. Y/N, you are my future."

"Oh my god—"

"Shut up," Bucky hissed, elbowing Sam in the side, "let them be!"

"So he's been in love with her this entire time and I had no clue?! He's been in love with her for five whole years? Took them long enough."

"Ten. Catch up, birdbrain."

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Steve reassured you in a soft voice, "I made my decision, and I'm staying here, whether you're in favor of that or not."

You let out something that was a mix of a choked sob and a laugh. "I can't get rid of you?"

"Unfortunately not," he chuckled, "as far as I know, you're sticking with me, because I love you too much to let you go."

"I hate to break the sentimental mood you've created here, you mumbled into his chest, "but...do you mean like...you're actually in love? Because that's what Dad would always say. If a man doesn't leave your side he either just wants to annoy the hell out of you, or is hopelessly in love with you."

"He's not wrong."

"Okay, then I—"

Steve quickly silenced you by leaning down and placing his lips lightly on yours, which took you completely by surprise. It was as if the entire world stopped when your lips met, your body warming up under his touch - a feeling that you'd never really get used to although you'd been working with him for as long as you could remember. You felt as if you were going to explode from the sheer amount of passion and adrenaline coursing through your body.

"I was going to say I love you too," you let out a sound that was a mix between a choked sob and a laugh. "before you—uh—cut me off like that."

"Oh," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as his cheeks flushed a bright pink, "sorry."

"I'm gonna say it! You two. Have taken. Too damn long! To admit! You're in love! With each other!" Bucky clapped with every few words he said. "That’s all you say in response to her telling you she lo—"

"Man, shut the hell up," Sam grumbled. "as if you're dating anyone right now."

[blackstonesandtrapnest]

Hello! I'm pretty sure I didn't send this in already (If I did I'm so sorry just ignore this one ^^') But I really really loved your Yugi relationship headcanons! Could we maybe get some of those for Yami/Atem too? SFW and NSFW if you're okay with that, if not that's fine! Thank you in advance, you're awesome! (also side note, I've never heard of the anime Nana before your blog but now I'm kinda interested in it haha)

No this is my first time getting the request ^_^ I was waiting for someone to request this honestly XD You should definitely watch Nana when you get a chance! I swear it’s amazing!

Also I’ll be doing these headcanons as if Atem got his own body to make it easier to do!

~~SFW~~

Unlike Yugi who’s more shy and lacks confidence, Atem is definitely more charming and confident in himself. Approaching a beautiful woman or man (he’s bisexual obviously) is no skin off his nose. Yes he’s helped Yugi get dates before. Such a good friend am I right?

Atem has a reputation for being a player and yes it’s true to some extent. He likes to play the field and just like Yugi, he gets bored easily. You gotta be a special person to keep his attention for long. Atem is a free-spirit and settling down isn’t exactly easy for him because of how hard it is to keep him interested. Atem especially values intelligence and if you’re a duelist, that’s even better. Traveling is also a requirement for being with Atem. He wants to get out and see the world and being with his S/O while doing so is a dream come true for him!

Atem is definitely more open to one-night stands and flings than Yugi is. But he isn’t one of those asshole players who uses people for sex and then ghosts them later. Atem is very upfront and honest about his intentions and wants for any potential suitors to do the same. He doesn’t get why people deceive and lure others to get sex or money from them. Why do that when you can just be honest?

Atem will definitely treat you like the King or Queen you are! Unlike Yugi who’s more frugal and down-to-earth, he’s much more lavish with his dates and gifts. Fancy restaurants, awesome clothes, the works! Atem may not be as rich as Kaiba but he’ll definitely spoil you the best he can! If you do the same in return, Atem will be so touched that he might actually cry. Awwww!

If you actually manage to keep Atem’s interest, congratulations. You’ve already found your way into his heart and you’re gonna stay there. He’s gonna chase you like a jack rabbit chases a carrot and he’s not gonna let you go. If he ever does, you must’ve done something unforgivable and he’s not taking you back. Please don’t take Atem for granted or it’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.

Atem has had his heart broken many times in his 5000+ years of existing and he’s been through pretty much any dating disaster you can imagine so don’t be too nervous and shy when you’re around him. His amount of heartbreaks have caused him to become more reserved and cautious so be patient if you want a long-term relationship with him. He’ll open up to you but you have to gain his trust first.

Pride is gonna be the biggest hurdle in your relationship honestly. Atem puts Vegeta to shame in terms of how prideful he is and ohhh boy are you in for one hell of a fight whenever you two get into an argument. Atem does NOT like to lose and admitting that he’s wrong is like a Kuriboh trying to defeat a Blue-Eyes White Dragon. He’ll argue with you all damn day and he will push your buttons like no man can. If you’re the headstrong type who doesn’t take any bullshit and won’t back down, that’s perfect for Atem because he needs someone like that to bring him down to Earth sometimes. He has thick skin so don’t worry about hurting his feelings. Atem actually gets turned on when you get mad and he likes it when you put him in his place. He’s never really dealt with that kind of person before so it intrigues him. He’s used to people just bowing down to him and honestly he’s tired of it. Sometimes Atem will start arguments for the hell of it. It’s great foreplay according to him.

Atem likes PDA but is subtle about it. Small things like holding hands or wrapping arms around each other’s waist is more of his style. He likes security and when you’re around him, having some kind of physical contact gives him that feeling. A hug here or a kiss there may happen too depending on the situation and how Atem feels.

If you’ve dated any of his friends (especially Yugi), Atem isn’t dating you point blank period. He doesn’t believe in dating his friends’ exes and he and Yugi actually wound up dating the same girl once! The outcome wasn’t pretty either. The player doesn’t like being played. Not. One. Bit.

Unfortunately Atem has had all the major issues that comes with being a player. Fatal attractions, paternity scandals, bitter exes, getting a taste of his own medicine, you name it, it’s happened to him at some point and he’s got stories for days. His past will eventually come back to haunt him and if you can’t handle it, he won’t stop you from leaving and he’ll definitely understand. Loving Atem isn’t easy and it’ll definitely test you in every way possible but he’s definitely worth fighting for and he will spend the next 5000+ years proving it to you if he has to. He’s not gonna lose you without a fight and his love for you is eternal no matter what happens between you two. You’ll always have a special place in Atem’s heart.

~~NSFW~~

Atem has lots of experience which is a given considering how old he is. He knows how to please his partners and he can adapt to his partner’s needs at the drop of a hat. Want slow and steady? You got it. Want rough and hard? Atem’s your guy. Want a threesome? Atem will happily oblige!

He doesn’t care if you’re short, tall, big, or small. Atem’s been with all kinds of people of various sizes so he’s not exactly picky. Does he have a specific type or preferences? Of course he does. But he doesn’t go out of his way to find what he wants physically in a partner as opposed to mentally. Atem knows better than anyone that looks don’t completely matter and that it’s what’s on the inside that truly matters.

Atem is a switch but mostly prefers to be the Dom. He definitely loves to roleplay and he always makes sure to have a safe word in place so no harm is done. Can you guess what his favorite kind of roleplay is? Remember he is a 5000 year old Pharaoh ;)

When Atem is dominating you, sexy doesn’t even begin to describe it! His voice is deep, his words are filthy, and his dick is hard. You’re gonna feel his hands all over your body and he’s definitely gonna make you beg. You’ll be a complete mess when he’s done with you and you can forget about going to work or school the next morning.

Atem’s aftercare is on point! He’ll praise you like no other, take a luxurious hot bath with you, make some delicious food for you (yes he can cook and quite well might I add), and top it all off with a glass of very fine wine. If you have any bruises or scratches, Atem is gonna make sure they’re taken care of so you’re not too sore.

Atem’s pride also extends to the bedroom. If he’s not your first lover, he’s gonna make damn sure that he’s one of the best you’ve ever had if not THE best. If he’s your first, then that’s even better. You’ll want no other man once he’s done with you trust me. You’ll need at least 5 guys to do what he does in bed!

He wants to know everything about you sexually. Your fantasies, your kinks, your dislikes, bad experiences, you name it. Atem likes to know what he’s getting himself into and what he’s up against. He wants to have an open dialogue about sex so if you’re shy or prudish, you’ll have a very rude awakening with Atem.

If you thought Yugi’s secret stash was something to shocked by, just wait until you see Atem’s. Hell he has a secret ROOM instead! Sex dungeon anyone? But he won’t reveal it to you until he’s opened up to you a bit and has settled in with you sexually. Atem doesn’t want to scare you away by revealing everything at once! He’s made that mistake a few times before.

Whenever Atem is the sub, he’s a bratty sub to the fullest! If you wanna dominate him, you’re gonna earn it damn it! He’ll egg you on, challenge you, defy you, the whole nine yards. I hope you have a lot of patience because you’re gonna need it with Atem if you’re the dominant type! But the right to dominate him is well worth fighting for! He’ll obey your every command and will be putty in your hands. You’ll feel on top of the world!

It should go without saying but Atem lives to please and he wants to make you happy both in and out of the bedroom! Not only because of his pride but because of how much he loves you. You see, Atem is simply one hell of a lover and he’ll make sure you don’t forget it either!

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from "Chapter One: Caliah (Lore)" in the Bastet breedbook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse"

Once there was a cat who dreamed he was a man.

Like the morning mist, she appeared from nowhere, or so it seemed.

The winds have spoken of your dilemma and I have come to show you the way home.

Why do you call me brother?

We are family.

We have different parents but share the same blood.

You need to meet your people

You are my sister

I have no other family. Don’t leave me!

We all have family

What are the dreams of a cat?

Let us welcome each other and speak of hidden things.

If they come in peace, we welcome them.

I’m just a mutt.

Listen up and listen close, ‘cause this isn’t stuff you’ll hear from any old place.

I’ve got friends with friends, if y’know what I mean, and this is good stuff.

They don’t get along, y’know.

A good lorespeaker tells different stories every time, and she makes ‘em as cool as possible.

Sound like anyone we know? Nah! Couldn’t be!

So how do you trade secrets, anyway? After all, isn’t a secret shared a secret lost?

If you don’t play the game, you don’t learn a thing.

Each element of the message becomes a metaphor, and the message becomes a story.

Florid? Hell yeah! But ya gotta admit it’s more graceful — and exposes a hell of a lot less — than blurting out the truth.

You might say, “I heard a story about so-and-so” but you’d never say “I did so-and-so.” If your audience has a clue, they’ll catch on.

Everything’s told in metaphors.

A good obtuse metaphor makes you look imaginative if someone gets it, really stupid otherwise.

Everything is larger than life. People don’t just cry, they “explode in showers like the sea.” Folks don’t just get mad, they “turn into coals that burn through the floor.”

If what you’re saying is important, bigger is better.

Simple? Not if you don’t get the lingo.

A wounded cat can surrender without disgrace.

Not enough to go around.

Hey, don’t let on you know what I told you, huh?

It was a time before life, a longing when the dream of birth was yet to be.

This marked the end of peace and the beginning of struggle.

Such promises are soon broken.

Why does even the skin of my daughter flee from my hands?

Why must I always be alone?

Master, what would you have of us?

Nothing exists for him but annihilation.

Go across the world

Let that which is pure stand whole, but erode that which is impure from within.

He tells many tales, but all of them are lies. He is rage made manifest, and he coils within us all.

There was no want, no war, no anguish, and all living things gave of themselves to help others exist.

Until some cataclysm happened, everything lived in peace and plenty.

Life has ever been a struggle, my brothers and sisters. Life has always meant that some may die for others’ pleasure.

That pleasure may be as necessary as hunger or as frivolous as sport, but it has always been fatal and always will be.

Only through struggle can we progress.

Only through sacrifice can we succeed.

We were born from conflict and we grow through adversity. Our ancestors are predators, great cats and human hunters who rose above their surroundings and mastered them.

We know our place in the Great Order, and it is not passive.

Like the moon, our world waxes and wanes.

Each era glows brightly, then fades into night before rising again as some new age.

As creatures of light, dark and twilight all, we are not moved much by the vagaries of fortune.

Each tribe has its creation story, and they differ in many ways.

I have my own ideas.

We are a breed eternally apart, and we are rare.

Water runs silent, yet crushes with the power of an elephant.

Its depths hold secrets that only the brave can find.

The first of our kind were nearly the last.

Those it caught were devoured.

Let this be your legacy

My tears, shed for you, will boil in your veins.

All people will fear you, and all animals, too.

Begone and tend the flocks that need killing.

I banish you from sight!

They still live on in us, and we carry their curse to this day.

As the humans prospered, they grew quickly out of hand.

It was a bloody, useless time, and we fractured as a people.

Secrets became the only thing to bind us.

It’s hard to forgive these raging bastards.

Very territorial, and I know how that feels.

There are enough horrors in the night already.

Corruption has a million voices; sometimes they drown out the song of the moon and lead us over cliffs.

That song wails from nightclubs, boom boxes and televisions every day.

Stop up your ears, my friend and listen to the wind.

Those secrets led the wolves to our door — literally.

Gods damn the dogs for that!

Their misbegotten crusade killed hundreds of our Kind and Kin.

She mated with serpents, wolves and great cats in an effort to become like them, but gave birth to monsters instead.

Some legends portray her as one of our kind, but we know this isn’t so.

If the tales I’ve heard are any measure, they have no pity for us at all.

We are where we are born.

I think our unique insights show us that humanity is a mixed blessing — especially where the earth and the wild are concerned.

Men are the cleverest monkeys, no doubt, but they don’t have much sense of self-preservation.

Our forebears fought to let humanity prosper.

We have an amazing world at our fingertips, but it’s filled with poisons and lies.

Honor seems to be a fading dream in lands where the rich starve their people and the poor kill each other.

We hold magic within ourselves, within our hearts and minds and spirits. To dishonor ourselves is to disperse that magic and scatter our souls.

It’s acceptable to lie to other creatures; they’re not of our blood and not bound by our laws.

We will flee to survive a fight, but will not run when others depend on our strength.

We must make restitution to those we deceive, in deeds, trade or money.

We may be exiled or branded.

Our weapons are many — secrets, claws, teeth and allies — and we will not hesitate to employ them for our world’s

survival.

Our people have walked too close to extinction for us to take such matters lightly.

We will not ally ourselves with shadow powers or drink corrupted wisdom.

We do not fail our Earth and mother. That path leads to death.

We are the keepers of secrets, and our fates depend on silence.

Each of us bears the hidden doom of our own people, and we know the cost of betraying that trust.

We also know that we have what others want — or what they think they want — and it amuses us to make them squirm.

Our knowledge is our concern.

We will not share it unless we wish to.

We will hide ourselves from outsiders; they will think they know us, but we will delude them.

We will wrap our lore in riddles and tales; let the clever ones puzzle out their meaning.

We will act as if we know even more than we do, for it keeps outsiders guessing.

Let them wonder at our insight; they value us more highly when they do.

We will cover our tracks with misdirection, pretend to be other than what we are, fill the air with idle rumors and hide messages in code.

There is no forgiveness for this crime.

Well, let’s just say I know what I’ve seen. And I’ve seen a lot.

His eyes were so filled with pain that I decided to help out.

I’d swear he was grinning as the semi ran him down.

That felt good.

Guess they’ve gotta live here, too.

I say they’re not as smart as they might think.

Maybe I’m the one who’s being fooled.

I could tell you stories all night, all week, all month and more.

As the temples rose and the hordes crossed through, our parents sat on the sidelines of history and observed the passing of kings.

The cultures we witnessed shaped our own ways.

Cities rose, each with secrets too tempting to ignore.

For a long time — 4,000 years — there was all the room in the world for us, and no lack of secrets to keep us entertained.

We should have seen the signs in the Classical Age, when armies swept across the land in the names of gods, kings and conquerors.

We should have met en masse when trade and crusades brought East and West together.

I will not belabor the point. We know what happened.

Explorers, slavers and great white hunters bounded into the wilderness and cast a chain around our kind.

Suddenly, we went from having all space to having little.

I can’t say I don’t share the sentiment just a bit.

We didn’t stop until a greater evil forced us to align, but that’s another story.

It’s a wonder anyone survived.

We studied their secrets, but could learn nothing from them.

We have no one to blame but ourselves.

For all our vaunted sight, we’re blind. For all our gathered lore, we’re stupid.

The world is falling apart.

I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but we are living in interesting times!

We must pool our secrets, combine our efforts, and bring the world’s secrets to light.

We must act on what we discover and disperse what we learn.

Do I lose my cool?

The modern age is the greatest puzzle we could want endless streams of secrets, enigmas, wonders and dazzles, wrapped up in an explosive package that could blow us all to hell.

Anywhere, at any time, the whole ride could fly off the rails.

Those who ignore the warning feed the vultures the next morning.

I’ll simply say the tigers are not where you’d expect.

People have begun to open their eyes, but they still need your counsel to see the cliff’s edge before falling off

Those stories are true — violently true — and they add up to an appalling picture if you string them all together.

They get an idea, work on it a bit, and try to rule the world. Typical. We’ve seen their kind before.

Look around you if you doubt it.

Surely the secrets you’ve uncovered have given you the idea that maybe, just maybe, something’s going on, something bigger than another plunder, another invasion, another city that falls to ruin in a century.

Discover what you can, but bury your tracks well.

We’re strangers to each other for most of our lives, and we like it that way — a few careful gatherings are all we

can stand.

The moon is our patron, but the shadows are our father too, and they call to us at our weaker moments.

Most of us dance on the edge, though, and that’s where we like to be!

Despite our pains, we’re spirited and wild, inquisitive yet careful, sensual yet refined.

Our beauty is our greatest pride, and our wits are second to none.

We know what we are.

To hell with them all!

Still, we cannot let pride blind us to the facts.

The morning it foretells is up to us.

We must come together, yet retain our pride.

We are the keepers of secrets.

Perhaps it’s time those secrets were revealed.

[kylorenfanfic]

Long Away - chapter 1

Kylo Ren x Female Reader 

Masterlist

Story: You have been hiding for years, ever since the slaughter in your temple. You were one of the many force-sensitive children that Luke Skywalker was training to be the New Jedi Order. You were there when Ben Solo killed everybody, but you were lucky enough to survive, you weren’t important, he didn’t remember that he let you go by accident. You had given up and ran away to hide in Dantooine, but when you heard that Kylo Ren had become the Supreme Leader, you realized that you couldn’t stay out of it any longer. Finding your way into the First Oder and gaining Kylo Ren’s trust so you could help the Resistance by giving them inside information. But things turned out to be very different than you expected to be the closer you get to the Supreme Leader. A/N: Hi guys, so this is my first fanfic and I am completely nervous about it. I have written more chapters of it already, but I am not sure if I am going to post it. Tell me if you guys like it or if I should keep posting. The first chapters are kinda boring because it’s the context of the whole story. If you wanna be tagged also, let me know. Love, and I hope you enjoy it. Words: 1.6k

It was a warm day in the Fields of Banir. It wasn’t sunny but you could feel the heat. It was the first time in a while that you were leaving the old Jedi Temple. You have been living there for the past few years, ever since you lost everything and everyone. You used your Force abilities to hide yourself, to shield yourself from any other Force sensitive being that might land. You had to go to Garang to get some of the supplies – even though you were living out of things you could collect in the fields. Sometimes you needed stuff, like medicine and fresh clothes, and that was when you would travel to the capital city of Dantooine.

You weren’t used to having many people around – especially when most of were Dantaris – but you still enjoyed having a change of scenery. Sometimes the cold walls of the ancient Temple became too much for you. It was there, in Garang when you first heard it.

“The First Order has a new Supreme Leader” someone around you said, you couldn’t identify the voice among the crowd.

“It is Kylo Ren, you know? That guy in the mask” other person replied.

“Does that mean things are getting worse?” the voice faded away and you couldn’t hear the answer. Kylo Ren was the Supreme Leader now? That meant he wasn’t being controled by someone, he wasn’t being brainwashed to be in the Dark Side. He was fully part of the Dark Side now. And was its leader. You shook your head, that wasn’t your problem. It was when your mind started to fade.

“(Y/N)!” you heard someone screaming. You were lost among the chaos, the buildings were collapsing and there were flames everywhere. “Stay where you are!”, you heard Hylia’s voice in your head.  

Hylia was your best friend, the one who took care of you when you first arrived to the Temple, feeling alone and afraid, after losing your parents and discovering your Force sensitiveness. You couldn’t leave her there to die. You disobeyed her orders and tried to find her. Then you saw him, Ben Solo killing the padawans. Hylia was standing in front of him and with a furious scream, she ran into his direction holding up her green lightsaber. They started to fight and then she saw you, she didn’t say a word, she concentrated, her hand drawn out and in this weak moment the man in front of her killed her with his lightsaber. He turned around to find other remaining padawans and he passed right next to you. He didn’t see you. You ran to Hylia’s body. She was barely alive, wounds from lightsabers do not bleed, but are just as fatal as a blaster shot.

“Hide.” she said. It was when you realized she was using her powers to hide you from Ben. You felt tears on your cheeks. She faded away, hiding your Force signature has weakend her badly wounded body. And you ran, never looking back.”

Hylia died to protect you and her last word was the thing you have been doing ever since. You didn’t want to do anything about what was going on in the galaxy. Let the Resistance and the First Order kill themselves. But now… now things were different. Ben Solo wasn’t a bad person and you knew it, he had saved you once before during training, so long before the massacre happened. Maybe Ben Solo was indeed dead and now all that remained was the devious Kylo Ren, now the Supreme Leader.

It was one of the teachings of a jedi, to never be selfish. You could help to defeat him. You could help to avenge Hylia and all the others that died by his hand. Because now it was just himself, not someone controlling his mind.

You had a feeling. You could do it, you could help somehow. And inside you, you felt the urge to do something, you felt that you couldn’t handle another day of solitude in that goddamn Jedi ruin, another day in this goddamn planet. You had your lightsaber with you, you didn’t need anything else, you could leave everything behind and that was what you did.

You entered that place and it smelt bad, the smell of dust and old durasteel. You saw the man behind the balcony.

“I need a ship” you said straight forward. He looked at you and laughed.

“You have currency?” he replied with a sarcastic smile.

“How much?” and the answer that he gave you made you gasp. “That is an absurd amount of credits!” you protested, you didn’t have nearly enough credits for that.

“No money, no ship.”

“It must have another way to get it.”

“You are that girl, right? That lives in the ancient Temple?”

“You can say that.”

“Are you a Jedi? Hear they could do stuff.” he asked and you bulffed.

“Of course not.” you answered as it was an insult, mostly for him to believe you.

“You know how to fight?” he were asking with a lot of interest

“I do…” you suspicious answered. “Get to the point.”

“Get me this man, and the ship is yours.” He said showing you a hologram of a Dantari.

“What has he done?”

“He owes me credits. Bring him to me and you get a ship. His name is Barak Norurdi and he lives in the Taikana Hills. You have until tomorrow morning.”

“That is ridiculous”.

“Bring me Barak or no ship.”

You went out of that old place thinking about what you were going to do with your life. Going after a dantari? For what? Just for you to try to find Kylo Ren and kill him? Or at least help to destroy his Order? What were you thinking?

You had that feeling again. The Force wanting to talk to you somehow. You had shut yourself to the Force for so long and you couldn’t understand why now it was finding your way back to you. If only master Luke was still around…

You got in your way to the Taikana Hills, the sun was almost setting when you got there. You saw a little house, there was light on, you decided to go there, maybe they would know something about Barak.

You knocked on the door. No answer. You knocked again.  You heard someone speak in Dantarian. The door was open.

“Hi” you said with a simple smile, hoping that he would know your language.

“Hello” he answered in a thick accent, no smile.

“I am looking for Barak Norurdi, have you heard of him?” the man gave you a suspicious look.

“It is I, who asks?” that was incredibly easy, you could barely believe it.

“I came to collect your debt to Caran Spero.” You said more firmly than you felt.

“I owe no currency to Caran Spero. Caran Spero owes me. He stole from me.” He said getting angrier.

“Look, I am sorry, ok? But I am just following what was asked from me.”

“Stupid human.” And he closed the door.

“It’s going to be on the hard way then.” You told yourself. You kicked the door and it opened with a bang. The dantari man looked at you surprised. He came in your way with angriness. You had your staff with you, you wouldn’t use your saber anymore. You fought the dantari man, he was using his bare hands and you were skiving from his punches using your body and staff. Your staff went down to his legs making him fall behind, his head hitting the floor, he had a painful expression on.

“Look man, I’m sorry ok, but I gotta get out of this planet.” And you knocked him unconscious. You thought about how you could bring that heavy dantari back to Garang. You went out the wooden house and tried to find for some short of speeder. What were you expecting? Dantaris aren’t people who use tech… well, but this one apparently was. Maybe that was the reason why he was in debt with Spero.

You put the unconscious man, tied up, on the speeder and started to drive. You felt the wind in your face, it was night already and you had to smile, you haven’t felt that alive for so long, maybe what you were doing was right afterwards. It felt right.

You got to the store after a couple hours.

“Oh, the bounty hunter is back.” Spero said when he saw you entering his shop.

“I am not a bounty hunter” and you dropped Barak on the floor in front of him. He was up now, but all tied up, he couldn’t make a proper move.

“Oh, ho ho ho. It seems like a bounty hunter to me! Well done, well done!” He said, coming around the dantari laying on the floor.

“Can I get the ship now?”

“Sure thing, sure thing. Let me show you, it’s already outside in the back.” you followed him to the back and there was an old ship there.

“That is garbage!” you exclaimed, angry.

“Well, I didn’t say what kind of ship, right? That is what you got. You didn’t seem that had that much work to bring him back to me.”

“You are a worm!”

“Careful with your words, young lady. You know what? Now you got no ship, that’s it, that’s what you get for ingratitude.” In your fury you got your lightsaber from your belt, hidden behind your tunic and threatened him with the saber on his neck, the blue light lightening up both your faces.

“You said you were no Jedi” he roared.

“And I am not, the Jedi are dead. Now give me the ship. A good one.”

“Alright, alright, since you asked nicely” and he escorted you to the other hangar. “It’s a CT-21, good model, you can get to where ever you want fast.” You looked at him and then ran to the ship, getting in. You knew how to pilot from your padawan days.

You started to pilot the ship, and in no time you were leaving Dantooine, the place you thought you’d die in. Now you were heading to the unknown… or better saying, heading to Kylo Ren.

CHAPTER 2

[ellewritesathing]

So Close  -  S.S. XLI

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 41

Word-count: 6.7k+

A/N: not to like shamelessly self-promote but like. you guys might like this prompt i did for stiles 👀

You couldn’t sleep. Even with your friends safely back in your life and Stiles asleep next to you, you couldn’t sleep. Eventually, you rolled onto your side and watched the rise and fall of Stiles’ chest as he snored. You smiled and reached over to play with his hair. His heartbeat slowed after a little while and his snoring became a bit softer. 

Taking your hand back after a while and lying down again, you pulled up your shirt and ran your hand along where the bullet hole should have been. It was freaky; your skin was perfect. You’d been injured internally plenty of times and healed but this was the first time you’d had a proper external wound. It healed slowly at first, better than a human but nothing to write home about, and then Deaton gave you blood. It made you feel sick. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly. When did he wake up? He yawned and moved closer, putting his hand on top of the one you had on your stomach. His thumb grazed where the wound should have been. “You know I didn’t mean what I said earlier, right? My mouth kinda moves before my brain does sometimes.” 

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You squeezed his hand before turning back onto your side to face him. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though. I mean, it is pretty weird.” 

“You could never be weird to me,” Stiles said. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “That was, like, ridiculously lame. I’m sorry. I just meant … you know. I’m usually the one being maimed, not you.” 

“Yeah and it hurts like a bitch,” you said with a sharp exhale and a roll of your eyes. 

Stiles laughed and lifted his hand to your face. “Yeah, the worrying isn’t that great either. You wanna trade back?” 

“Kind of wish we could give up both,” you said with a small smile. 

Stiles shifted and pulled you into his arms. He kissed the top of your head and sighed. “At least, for now, we’re both safe. Neither maimed nor worried.” 

“I like the sound of that.” You found his hand again. “Almost as much as your use of ‘nor.’”

“You liked that, huh?” 

“Yeah, it really distracted from the blatant lie that neither of us is worried right now.”

Stiles laughed and then it was quiet for a moment. You could hear Noah’s heart beating in his sleep down the hall, but Stiles’ beat louder. His fingers drummed your arms in the silence. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you had to tell him what happened. 

“Theo wants me in his pack,” you said. No use sugar-coating it. Stiles’ drumming stopped. “He called me the shadow wolf. Said that I was more like them than I was like you guys.” 

“He’s wrong,” Stiles said instantly. You could almost hear him frowning. “You know that, right?” 

“The thing is … I don’t think he is wrong,” you said quietly. “With all the chimeras - even before we knew they weren’t like us - I felt bound to them. Like whatever they’re made of … maybe I am too. I- I’m not going to join them. I hate Theo. And even if I didn’t, I could never leave you or Scott.”

Stiles was quiet, working hard to choose the right words. As much as you loved him for it, if he didn’t say something soon, you were going to throw up. When he did speak, he didn't start asking the questions you knew were bouncing around in his head. All he said was: “You promise you’re not gonna leave?” 

“I promise. No matter what.” 

With that out of the way, Stiles relaxed. Still, you waited for him to say something. To ask what you meant, maybe even what it felt like to 'be bound' to the chimeras. But he was quiet, so quiet that you thought he’d actually gone to sleep until he said, “I’m gonna kick his ass.” 

“Can I shoot him first? I’m still pretty pissed off about that.” 

“Of course. Then you can hold him down while I kick him in the-” 

With that colorful image in mind, you went to sleep with a smile on your face. Unaware of Stiles lying awake and anxious next to you.

---

Usually, after half of your group got injured and while you were making plans, things were at least a bit quieter for a few days. Unfortunately, the Dread Doctors weren’t so kind as your other foes; you’d only been shot yesterday and now you were racing down the highway with Scott and Stiles, chasing after the Beast behind a group of police. 

“Unit Five heading northwest on Crescent reporting an incredibly large … something,” Clark said over the radio.

Another deputy responded, “Unit Nine to Dispatch, I think I’ve got eyes on the same thing. Some kind of rabid animal.” 

“Unit Five to Nine, trust me: That’s no animal,” Clark said. 

You laughed and unbuckled, leaning forward to poke your head between Scott and Stiles in the front. “She’s not wrong.” 

“Yeah, but-” 

Scott was cut off by Strauss coming in over the radio. “Unit Six to Dispatch, we have a situation downtown. Multiple fatalities.”

The voice of the dispatcher sounded cold compared to the overwhelmed officers. “Copy, medics on the way. Do you have a perp insight, Unit Six?”

“Negative,” Strauss said. He sounded overwhelmed. You guessed as weird as Beacon Hills was, not many people knew how to react after a werewolf attack. “Looks like a 10-91E. Animal attack.”

“10-4, can you say what kind of animal?” the dispatcher asked. 

Stiles pulled out his radio before Strauss could answer. He also pumped the accelerator and you held onto Scott to keep from sliding back into your seat. “All units stay back. Do not engage,” Stiles said. “I repeat, do not engage.” 

“Stiles, get off the radio,” Noah snapped. You almost laughed as Stiles handed you the radio to put back. Still, Noah added, “All unit alert: Wait for back-up. Repeat: No one goes near this thing.”

“Unit Five reporting a sighting on Hill Road southbound.” 

“Unit Nine. I’ve got it turning off Oakridge, southbound on Beachwood.”

“All units, this is Dispatch. We’ve got a 911 call with an additional sighting on Mitchell.”

“Wait a second? Beachwood to Mitchell?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s headed back for the hospital,” Scott said. 

“Mom’s working tonight,” you said. “I’ll call her. Stiles, you gotta tell your dad.” 

Stiles grabbed the radio instantly. “It’s headed to the hospital. Dad-” 

“Stiles, get off this channel,” Noah said.

Stiles started arguing with his dad and you bounced your leg as you waited for your mom to answer her phone. The first call rang out so you texted her and tried again. 

Melissa sounded tired when she answered. “Hey, honey, we’re pretty swamped at the-” 

“Mom, you’ve gotta evacuate the hospital,” you rushed out. She started arguing but you talked over her. “Whatever the Beast is, it’s heading towards the hospital. And it’s going to kill people.”

You fell back into your seat as Stiles changed course towards Beacon Memorial. He was going as fast as the Jeep could manage, but the drive felt agonizingly slow. It was made worse by the constant updates from the police radio. The latest being a man on fire running into Beacon Memorial. 

When you eventually did get to the hospital, it felt abandoned and eerily similar to that night with the durach and a dying Cora Hale. You shoved those thoughts aside when a gun cocked behind you, overridden by your instinct to pull Stiles behind you. 

“Jesus Christ.” You let out a breath when you realized the threat was only Noah. He held his index finger to his mouth and shushed you. 

As much as you loved Noah, you could have strangled him right there. Once again, you shoved those thoughts aside when the lights flickered and snarling rose in the distance. 

“Fourth floor,” Scott said. 

You all nodded and headed up as quickly as you could. Noah took the lead, followed by Scott and then Stiles - you’d insisted on taking the rear in case anything snuck up on you guys.

The fourth floor was ruined. Almost none of the lights still worked (luckily, not a problem for you and Scott), the electricity crackled through torn-open wires, and parts of the ruins were on fire. You wandered around the dark halls until something flew down the hallway in front of you. Since you noticed it first, you pulled Stiles into you and Scott pulled Noah back just before the fireball roared past. 

It hit some partitioning and the flames went out. That wasn’t a random fireball; that was Parrish. Cut, charred, and disoriented Parrish. Parrish with glowing eyes. 

His eyes extinguished as Noah made his way over to him, but you couldn’t focus on their reunion. Something had thrown Parrish across the fourth floor. Something big.  

Scott walked ahead of you, but soon you found a paw print in the dust. The two of you didn’t need to say anything to know that you were going to follow the trail. The paw prints started changing, turning into something smaller and more human. Eventually, you found a sneaker print. 

It struck you as odd that it would be a shoe print and not a footprint. Parrish was made out of fire and completely naked when you found him, and the Beast was made out of shadows. Maybe it was just different. Parrish wasn’t a chimera. At least you didn’t think he was. 

“Scott …” You weren’t sure what you were going to say.

“I know,” he said with a sigh.

---

Once again, you and your friends were gathered around the island in your kitchen talking through the logistics of a crazy plan. The only thing that made this time different from all the others was the fact that Lydia was missing. 

“We get into Eichen, we get into the Closed Unit, we get Lydia, and we get out,” Stiles said, summarizing his (already very long, very detailed) explanation.  

“And we have to do it all of this while getting past orderlies, guards, electric door locks, and a Mountain Ash barrier,” Scott said.

“You guys have a plan for all that?” Malia asked. 

Stiles pulled out a keycard. “I stole this off an orderly when I visited Lydia.” He paused, looking over at the card. “But it’s useless ‘cause they reset the codes each night.”

“So why did you take it?” Kira asked. 

“He’s building up to that,” you said quietly, taking your eyes of Stiles to look at Kira.

“The only way to get Lydia out of Eichen is to make that keycard work again,” Scott said.

“And how are you going to do that?” Liam asked. You held back a smile.

Stiles held out a hand. “We’re getting to that, okay? Just listen.” He spun the laptop around to show you guys a data table. “I pulled all the history off the keycard. Two weeks ago, there was a brownout and the security system rebooted. During a reboot, all of the keycards revert back to a default code. So, if we trigger a reboot …”

“The card goes back to the default code,” you said. “All the keycards work again.” 

“But how are we going to cause a brownout?” Kira asked. 

“That’s your part,” Scott said with a hopeful smile. “You’re going to draw power from the mainline, but only enough to cause the brownout.”

That’s where Stiles jumped in to ruin their moment. “But not a blackout. If you do that, you send Eichen into lockdown which would be bad. Very, very bad.”

You touched Stiles’ arm lightly to get his attention. He was freaking Kira out. Stiles looked at you with an expression that said he was sorry, and you gave him an encouraging smile. He got a little carried away sometimes but he always meant well. 

Scott, forever oblivious, kept talking and tapped on the blueprints that covered the island. “There’s an electrical room behind the reception counter,” he said. “The main power line goes into two breakers that run power to all of Eichen.”

“Okay, slight problem,” Kira said, looking ready to have a panic attack. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“That’s okay, you have time to practice,” Scott said with another trademarked hopeful smile. 

“Let’s say all this goes perfectly,” Malia started in a voice that said she expected none of this to go perfectly. “How does the brownout get us into the Closed Unit of Eichen?”

“The system takes five minutes to reboot.” Stiles looked over at Malia. “In those five minutes, all the alarms will be turned off. And the keycard should work-” 

“And then Liam, you, me, and Y/N get Stiles to the gate of the Closed Unit,” Scott said.

“After that, Stiles is on his own,” you said. Stiles reached for your hand under the table. “He’s the only one of us who can get through the mountain ash barrier.”

“And when we’re gone, all anyone’s going to think is that there was a reboot of the security system caused by a brownout,” Scott finished.

“So, uh … any questions?” Stiles asked. 

They all started talking at the same time. From Liam: How do we get into Eichen House in the first place. Malia wanted to know what the worst-case scenario was. Kira asked what happened if she couldn’t trigger the brownout.

“Okay, admittedly, a lot could go wrong,” Stiles said, holding up his free hand in surrender. 

“Everything could go wrong,” Liam said. 

Stiles' open hand turned into a fist as you tilted your head. “Biscuit,” you said softly. Liam shrugged and started defending himself when Scott started talking.

“Guys, if we don’t do this, we lose Lydia,” Scott said. “She’s going to die in there tonight. And she might take a lot of innocent people with her.”

“We can do this,” you said. Your friends didn’t look convinced. “Okay, we’ve done a lot worse. At least this time we have a plan.” 

---

Eichen House still freaked you out, but you could only imagine what it felt like to Stiles. So many bad things had happened to him here, and you had the feeling that more bad things were still going to happen. Then again, maybe the paranoia was coming from the fact that you were inside a body bag and lying next to an actual dead body.

Parrish was surprisingly good under pressure; when the guard made him open the bags, he was completely calm. Your heart spiked at the sound of the first zip being undone, but then Parrish started opening yours and you got ready for a fight. The fight never came. The guard valued his dinner too much. 

Once you were in the morgue, you had to wait a few minutes before any of you could do anything. Stiles' heart was beating out of his chest. Admittedly, so was yours. You tore the bag open without waiting for the others, but they didn’t need any more encouragement after they heard you breaking out. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles said between gasps of air. “Never again.” 

“How much time do we have?” you asked as you got to your feet. Liam was closest, so you helped him out of his bag and to his feet. He mumbled a thank you as you waited for an answer.

Scott checked his phone. “Fifteen minutes, starting now.”

“Then let’s get started!” Stiles started fumbling to get out of his bag and fell to the floor. “Ow! Jesus.” 

You hurried over to help Stiles up. He muttered obscenities the whole time but he accepted your help nonetheless. Scott got out of his bag safely, and then you just had to wait for the orderlies to leave the hallway. As soon as they were gone, you were on the move. 

You wanted Scott to take the lead but Stiles knew this place better than any of you did, and personal knowledge trumped an hour spent studying floor plans any day. The best you could do was follow behind him and keep a careful watch for anything that might be a threat. 

The orderlies blocking your way to the closed unit were definitely a threat. 

You pulled Stiles back and Scott grabbed Liam. The four of you pressed yourselves against the wall in an attempt to hide, and the memory of doing something similar with Isaac, Erica, and Stiles popped into your mind. That felt like such a long time ago. 

“What are they doing here?” Scott whispered.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, stealing a glance down the hall. “Their rounds should’ve ended five minutes ago.” 

Liam was decidedly less subtle with his look at the orderlies. “I can take them,” he said. 

Both Stiles and Scott glared at him for a moment. “No one’s taking anyone,” Scott said. 

“How much time?” Stiles asked, cutting Scott's alpha moment short. 

Scott checked his phone and sighed. “Three minutes.”

“I’ll just knock them out and hide the bodies,” Liam said. He was adorably oblivious. 

Stiles looked so close to slapping him that you instinctively reached for his hand to calm him down. “Oh my god, please stop,” he said.

One of the patients banged on the glass and scared you all out of your mini-argument. “Did you talk to the doctor?” he asked. 

“What?” Liam whispered. 

“Did you talk to the doctor?” he repeated. You looked over at Stiles uncertainly. “I haven’t had my medication. I need ten milligrams at 8am, 15 milligrams at 1pm, and no more than 20 at dinner.”

“We’ll get the doctor,” Scott said.

“Doctor Fenris?” the patient asked. Another beat of silence and you hoped that your nod was enough to calm him. “Doctor Fenris.” Then he started crying. He hit the glass as he said, “They took Doctor Fenris.”

“Guys-” You flinched when he hit the glass again. “He’s going to blow our cover. I can take the blame and get the orderlies out of here.” 

“No way, you’re not going anywhere,” Stiles said. “Scott, do something.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Scott whispered.

The patient stopped banging on the glass, but he was still distressed. “I haven’t had my medication. I need to see the doctor.” Stiles looked down the hallway. The orderlies were coming closer. “They took Doctor Fenris.”

“Somebody shut him up,” Stiles said. 

“I need to see the doctor!”

“Shut him up.” 

You pulled your hand away from Stiles before he could argue and stepped into the hallway. “I told you: I don’t know where the doctor is, alright?” you said to the patient. “I’m just looking for my brother- nurses, could you help me? This place is like a freaking maze.” 

“How did you get here?” one of the orderlies asked, roughly grabbing hold of your arm. 

“I was looking for my brother. They said he was moved to another unit and that they’d take me to see him but no one ever came.” You shook your head and gave them a very clueless smile. “I’m sorry. Is this area, like, restricted or something?” 

The orderly that had your arm looked ready to bite your head off but the other one just shook his head and gave you a tired smile. Either he wasn't paid enough or people wandering around the halls was a common occurrence.

“Let’s take you back to the reception area, okay?” he said. “They can sign you in and track down your brother. You can come to see him during visiting hours tomorrow.” 

You forced a laugh and started following them down the stairs not too far away from the gate that your friends would need to break through in a few seconds. “You’re the nicest person I’ve run into all night,” you told him, careful to smile at the grumpy one too. 

You carried on with your charade all the way back to the reception area, and then you gave them an annoyingly over-the-top thank you. They smiled and told you to wait for the nurse behind the counter to come back. You did not. As soon as they were out of sight, you made a b-line for the electrical room. 

Malia immediately grabbed you and threw you against the wall as soon as you opened the door. She looked confused to see you but still held onto you. 

“Relax, it’s just me,” you said, holding your hands up defensively. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. "You're supposed to be with Scott and Stiles."

“The dummies almost got busted,” you said with a small shrug. “I fixed it and came to check on you guys. Hey, Kira. How’s it going?” 

Kira looked away from her small opening in the door and gave you a small smile. “Could be better. I don’t know if these guards are supposed to be here. How are we going to get out?”

Malia let go of you and the two of you walked over to check out the guards. “We don’t want to set off any alarms until Lydia is out,” she said. 

“You’re right. Maybe we could-” 

You stopped talking when one of the guards came in over the radio. The perimeter guard hadn’t checked in. You looked at Malia when the two guards rushed out to see what caused the delay. She shrugged and closed the door. 

"Not our problem," she said.

Kira leaned against the door to get a better listen, but you and Malia didn’t need to. You heard the nurse loud and clear when he told someone that visiting hours were over, and then you heard Tracy tell him that they weren’t there to visit. 

“Shit,” you whispered.

They pulled the nurse across the counter and slammed him to the ground. Tracy wanted to finish him off, but Theo said they were on a schedule and it was better to leave him. You, Kira, and Malia held a collective breath until the chimeras left. 

Malia was the first one out the door and she slapped the nurse to get him to wake up. It didn’t work but at least his heart was beating. 

“It’s started,” Kira said, looking down at her electrified hands. 

“Then we need to get you out of here,” you said. You reached out to grab her arm but stopped when you remembered how she fried Scott. “Let’s go.”

“But what about the others?” Kira asked. 

“They should already be back at the morgue,” Malia said. “We need to go.”

Kira took a second to decide and then jumped over the nurse and the three of you made a run for the morgue before Kira messed up Eichen’s frequency again. The others weren’t there, so you hoped they’d gone to the van instead. The alarm started blaring before you could share your theory. 

You grabbed the sides of your head and collapsed in on yourself. Malia grabbed your arm to pull you out and reached for the doorknob, but it was electrified and both of you got electrocuted as a result. To top it off, the alarm still made your ears bleed. 

Malia took a deep breath once she got back to her feet. “Lockdown,” she said. 

You were still cringing on the ground when Scott started roaring. When your body got to its feet, it felt like being possessed again; you weren’t the one who moved your body. But once the brief discomfort was over, your head was clear and the alarm didn’t hurt so much anymore. 

 “Something’s wrong,” you rushed out. “I need to go help them.” 

“No,” Malia argued, turning back to the door as the lights went out. “We need to get out of here.” 

You were still arguing when Kira started lighting up again. The buzzing of the electricity didn’t freak you out so much as how worried she looked. She was terrified of messing things up again. 

“I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Kira said.

“How did you stop it before?” Malia asked. 

“Scott carried me outside, which almost killed him,” Kira said. 

“I’ve already died. It’s not so bad,” you said. You shrugged. “I can take you out.”

“Maybe we could try grounding her to something,” Malia said. “Lydia was teaching me about circuits before-” 

You tackled Malia as a bolt of electricity shot out from Kira and hit the door where Malia had been. You held onto her as Kira’s lightning struck every metal surface it could find. 

“You guys have to get out of here!” she yelled.

“We’re not leaving you,” you told her. 

Kira hit one of the body holds as she turned her back to you. You and Malia got to your feet as Kira cried, “I should’ve stayed in the desert with the Skinwalkers. I can’t control this. I’m never going to be able to.”

“Kira, it worked,” Malia said. “You saw it work. You controlled it enough to cause the brownout. You can stop it.”

“I can’t!” Kira turned to glare at you and her eyes glowed an angry golden color. “Go!” 

Even if you wanted to, an escape wasn’t possible because Kira electrified the entirety of her side of the room. Malia pulled you closer to her again and you both waited for the electrical storm to pass, careful not to touch anything conductive. 

The storm passed as quickly as it started.

“Kira?”

Slowly, you both got to your feet, but then you had to pull Malia back from grabbing Kira’s unconscious body. She argued with you but you shook your head. 

“She’ll kill you,” you said. 

“She’s right,” Josh said. You both pulled away from Kira to focus on him. “Electricity is still coming off your friend. I can feel it from here. But I can help her.”

“Why?” Malia asked. 

“Because I need your help.” Josh stepped away from the door and revealed Corey bleeding out in the hallway. “With him.”

“Oh my god, Corey.” You started forward when Malia caught your arm. She didn’t trust them; you didn’t blame her. “Mal, we’ve gotta help him.” 

Malia let go and you rushed over to Corey. You tried to lift him but he was in too much pain. Josh took Corey’s other side and looked over at you. “I knew you’d help,” he said. 

You didn’t know what to say, so you just hurried to get Corey on one of the exam tables. He was in so much pain. Almost his entire body was charred. He must have gotten caught up with Parrish. 

“Why isn’t he healing?” Josh asked. 

“Maybe he can’t. Maybe it’s too much,” Malia said. 

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Josh asked. 

“His heartbeat is getting slower,” you said. “But I can try to take away his pain. It could help.” 

“It might even get him to start healing,” Malia said generously. “But we’ll only do it if you help Kira.” More sparks flew and you all ducked. “You said you could help!” 

“Yeah, but it’s not like taking voltage from a car battery,” Josh argued. “She’s got a lot more power than that.” Corey groaned on the table. “Are you two going to do something or not?”

“Mal-” 

“After you help her. I don’t trust you,” Malia said.

“I don’t trust you either!” 

“Josh, do you trust me?” you asked. You’d never been close before, but you were something else now. “You said you knew I’d help him. I will, I promise.” 

More sparks. 

“We go at the same time,” Malia said, snapping his attention back to her. “Deal?”

Josh nodded reluctantly and walked over to Kira. You and Malia held each of Corey’s arms as Josh knelt over Kira. “On three?” he asked. “One.”

“Two.” 

“Three.”

The lights started flickering as Josh absorbed Kira’s electricity, but it was the least of your concerns after only a second of taking Corey’s pain. Until now, you’d never understood the phrase ‘blinding pain’ but with your vision blurring and your entire body burning, it had new meaning. 

But Corey’s heart started beating again. Rapidly. He was breathing. Kira gasped for air on the floor but it was almost impossible to hear over Josh’s screams. 

Between you and Malia, Corey’s pain faded after a minute. Josh managed to get Kira conscious and not electrified. You stayed with him but Malia went to check on Kira and Josh came back to Corey.

“Anybody know how we’re supposed to get out of here?” Corey asked, sounding scared and hurt.

“This place is still in lockdown,” Malia said.

“But it’s not just locked,” Kira said after shooting a look at the door.

“Yeah, I can feel it, too,” Josh said.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Corey asked. “Just wait here?” 

“We had a backup plan,” you said. Malia didn’t look like she wanted you to tell them, but you did anyway. “Mason is supposed to reset the transformer.”

“How’s he gonna do that?” Josh asked, at the same time that Corey asked if you meant his Mason. 

“He’s got the blueprints of the building,” Kira said. “And he has the full map of Eichen’s electrical system. All he has to do is get into the transformer shed behind the building.” 

“Don’t worry. Mason knows exactly what he’s doing,” Malia said. 

You had to smile to yourself. Thinking back to your first few weeks with Malia when you couldn’t stand her and she said that she would leave you in the desert, you almost couldn’t believe how much she’d grown. 

Malia and Kira kept huddled by the body holds while Josh rushed to the door to wait. Everyone was healing now, but you still felt ready to throw up. Taking away Corey’s pain had taken it out of you and if you didn’t drink some blood soon then you weren’t going to be much of a help to anyone. Surprisingly, Corey stayed with you by the exam tables. You heard the shutters on the windows roll back and then Josh pushed the door open. 

“He did it!” Josh said. 

“We gotta get to the Jeep,” you said, hopping off the table and running out with Kira and Malia. 

It didn’t take long to get to the parking lot, and even less time to get to the front and pick up the guys and Lydia. You tossed the keys to Scott as you got out and asked if Lydia was okay. 

“No, and we need to go,” Scott said. “We need to get Lydia out of here.”

Before he could get very far, Parrish collapsed onto the Jeep’s hood with claw marks all over his back. “Sorry, but she’s coming with me,” Tracy said. She held onto Lydia, no doubt paralyzing her as she did. 

“Okay, Tracy. Just wait,” Scott said. “You don’t know what’s about to happen.” 

“I’m taking her. That’s what’s happening,” Tracy said. “And none of you are going to do a thing-” 

Electricity crackled and Tracy collapsed. Natalie stood behind her with one of the guard’s nightsticks in her hands. You and Stiles reached out to catch Lydia, but you faltered and he caught her. 

“Could somebody please get my daughter out of this hellhole?” Natalie asked.

You helped get Lydia into the car with Stiles in the back. She looked awful, and you could smell the dried blood and gore in her hair. It was nothing on her fear though, nothing on Stiles’ fear either. 

Scott drove as fast as he could, but Lydia’s heart was beating too quickly. Without any warning, she let out a scream that burst your eardrum closest to her. Heightened senses meant you were weaker when it came to loud noises like that, and Lydia's scream wasn't like any other loud noise. Stiles started bleeding and the mirrors cracked. You yelled at Scott to drive faster. 

Even though the drive to the animal clinic was stressful, helping Deaton treat Lydia was even worse. Your brain was addled by the scream, and she kept screaming until Deaton injected her with mistletoe, straight into the spot where she’d been trepanned. Her final scream shattered all the windows in the clinic but you reacted too slowly. 

Scott protected Lydia but Stiles tackled you to the ground, bits of glass sinking into his back. 

“Stiles,” you said softly, hands reaching up to his face. The side of his face was still bloody from Lydia’s screams. “What are you-” 

“Someone has to take care of you,” he said quietly. 

You were both snapped out of your moment by Scott trying and failing to wake Lydia up again. You held onto Stiles’ hand as the two of you joined the others by the table. You couldn’t even hear her heartbeat. 

She let out a low moan as her heart started again. Lydia looked terrified when she opened her eyes again but she held onto Stiles’ other hand when he reached for her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. She held onto him and nodded quickly. “You’re okay.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to try to sit up?” 

Stiles helped Lydia sit up, wincing slightly from the glass, and she looked around slowly. Her eyes landed on Natalie in the doorway. “Mom?” 

“Oh, honey.” Natalie rushed over to Lydia and pulled her into a hug. She looked relieved for the first time in weeks. 

“They saved me,” Lydia said weakly. “Stiles saved me.”

Natalie looked up from Lydia to make eye contact with Stiles. “Thank you,” she said. After her blow up the day before, you knew it meant a lot to him for her to apologize. 

Stiles smiled at her to let her know that everything was fine, but then he winced again and ruined his heroic image. He still looked pretty heroic to you, but Natalie was a mother and all she saw was a broken boy covered in glass. 

“Let’s get you home, huh?” Natalie flattened Lydia’s hair and kissed her head. She looked ready to cry when she touched Lyd’s trepanation wound. “You can take a bath and we can watch The Notebook. Hmm?” 

“I can come with, if you want,” Scott offered with a smile. 

Lydia nodded, not bothering to hide the tears in her eyes. She thanked you on her way out and soon it was just you, Stiles, and an awful lot of broken glass. 

“Sit with me,” you said gently, tugging on Stiles’ arm to bring him to the exam table. It was so reckless of him to shield you like that but you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he'd gotten hurt protecting you. “Do you want me to take your pain while I take the glass out?” 

“And here I was thinking you wanted to makeout with me to say thank you for saving you from all that glass,” Stiles said with a lazy smile as he watched you get Deaton’s tweezers. You gave him a look and he laughed. “No, I can handle it.” 

“You sure?” 

Stiles nodded and you bit your lip. You weren’t sure if you had it in you to take his pain away, but still. Taking out all this glass was going to take a while and it was going to hurt. 

You started with the shards furthest away from his spine, doing your best to ignore his wincing. The closer you got to his spine, the worse his pain got. You put your hand on his shoulder and tried to take his pain away like you did with Corey, but you pulled your hand away when it started burning. 

Thankfully, Stiles was too wrapped up to notice your blunder, but it was pretty hard not to when your hand started shaking. The glass clattered into the metal dish with the other shards and you took a deep breath. 

“Hey, you okay?” Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder at you. 

“Yeah, just-” You took a breath and squeezed your eyes shut. “Just a bit light-headed. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to drink.” 

“Oh,” Stiles said softly. He looked down for a second and then used his hands to turn on the table to face you, no doubt opening some fresh wounds in the process. “You know you could do it if you wanted to.” 

You frowned. “Do what?” 

“Drink my blood,” Stiles said. God, when did this become your life? “If you can’t wait until we get home … you could do it.” 

“No. No, I couldn’t,” you said. You took a step back. “Stiles, I would kill you. And even if I could control it - which I can’t - I could never ask you to do that.” 

“But you didn’t ask, I offered.” Stiles reached for your hand and you felt so guilty for putting him through this.  

“I know, but I- I can’t risk hurting you,” you said. 

Stiles was quiet for a second. He looked down and drummed on the table for a second. “Malia told me you don’t heal without it.” 

Snitch.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one that’s hurt right now.” You sighed and took a step forward to press your forehead to his, your hand holding onto his neck. Your thumb ran across his neck. “Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright?”

Stiles was so still, but eventually, he took a breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. He kissed your hand before you pulled away to finish cleaning him up. He took in a sharp breath when you pulled out the largest (and, thankfully, the last) piece of glass. You apologized repeatedly but it just made Stiles laugh and then wince. “Hey, at least it's over now,” Stiles said in an attempt to comfort you. 

You laughed and put the tweezers down. “Close. We still have to clean the cuts if you don’t want an infection.” 

“Maybe I want an infection. I could get superpowers,” Stiles said between yawns. You walked around the table and he pulled you into a hug. His face was in your hair when he mumbled, “Do you think it’ll scar?” 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you said. You pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. “This part will be quick, okay? Can I take your shirt off?” 

“You can take my shirt off any time, babe.” Stiles leaned back and gave you a lazy grin which made you laugh despite the horrible night you’d had. 

“Slow down, Stilinski. Let’s finish this first.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Don’t call me ma’am.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” 

You rolled your eyes and pushed the open button-up off his shoulders so he could take his arms out of the sleeves. You lifted the bottom of his gray t-shirt and threw it at him when he made another flirty joke. 

Cleaning and bandaging the cuts went a lot faster, which was a relief because you were exhausted and Stiles must have been freezing. When the last of the bandages were on his back, you leaned in and wrapped your hands around him.  

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said softly. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Let’s go home. Do you have a shirt in the Jeep that I can bring you?”

“What’s wrong with my other shirt?” Stiles asked. 

“It’s torn and covered in blood,” you said as you pulled away. 

Stiles shrugged and pushed himself off the table. “You just want to see me walk around shirtless for a while.” 

“You know me well, Stilinski.” You took his hand in yours and lifted it to kiss him again. Stiles rolled his eyes but he pulled you closer anyway, only letting go so you could lock up the animal clinic and then to pull on a sweatshirt. 

Exhausted and worn out from the night, you fell asleep almost immediately as Stiles drove home. You weren’t sure what it was about the Jeep that did that to you; maybe the familiarly worn seats or how Stiles pumped the heat all the way up, or maybe just the way Stiles would drum on the steering wheel and play his favorite song on repeat. He was one of the only people who you trusted, and the Jeep was one of the only places you still felt safe.

Part 42

Tagged: @ietss​  @used-avocado​

[bracedfangirl]

I know I should be putting out the next Fatal Mistake AU chapter but-

School’s got me a little, and I can only put out snippets for a few more days, before I finish the end of the next chapter of it. So here I am with yet another teaser from the later part of the AU, introducing a very much unseen side of Morro

(Small clarification: For a reason the ninja and Morro will have to work together around 2 months after Lloyd dies. I’ll put it in a chapter too later, but if y’all want to know it just send an ask)

"So let me get this straight, Wu never told you anything about how souls and minds and all these things work?"

"Uh no..."

"Shit... Okay, then I guess we'll have to start with the basics… Soul types. There are 5 main ones, and each type has variations of it's own, and each type has a rarity and default traits. Trego, tria, geeda, keydro and sikol. Let's start with tregos. They're stable, possession suitable spirits, who are very common, and can heal their breaks and wounds. Aggressive and impatient most of the time."

Morro says while giving a subtle glare at Kai who tries to hide his offense without success.

"The red is the most aggressive, the intensity getting less in orange and yellow ones-"

"Well I bet Kai's one of these right?"

Jay totally fails changing the mood, but Morro seems to comply.

"You're spot on with that, he's the most hot headed red trego I've ever heard of."

"Hey!"

"What Flamehead? I'm just stating a fact. Anyway, the next are trias who... really differ by variation but are the most common... Possession suitable, usually able to heal their wounds. There's orange white and malachite. Malachite is fairly aggressive and possessive, orange is more like a sane, calm but protective spirit and white... well white is pretty much a very chill, calm and gentle variation."

Jay cuts in again, seemingly oblivious to who he's talking to.

"Okay well they may be common but I didn't recognise any of us."

"You gotta be kidding me! Three of you are trias! Nya's the most vicious malachite I've ever seen! Being an orange is written on Cole's face, and since Zane has an artificial mind, there isn't even any other option."

"What? When was I vicious with you?"

Morro laughs lightly at Nya's protest, before taking up his annoying smug grin, that's been sickening Kai ever since he first saw it.

"Who said I know your personalities from meeting you enough times in person?"

That causes an awkward silence, the urge to break the deal with Morro and just kill him already rapidly growing in Kai.

"A broken soul and a pretty much nonexistent mind doesn't have secrets if you're a possesser ghost. The memories just show up on hit..."

Cole has to keep him down after that, his boiling hatred threatening to burst out of him.

"Anyway back to the original topic, the next are geedas. While you can possess a geeda, it's not the best choice... These guys have issues with emotional control, and often are panicky or anxious. Somewhat stable, but not the best at fixing themselves. There's blue grey and yellow, the grey being the absolute embodiment of anxiety."

Cole snorts, looking at Jay with mischevious eyes.

"I'm sensing Jay in this one."

"He's a yellow one, the second worst to deal with."

"What- rude!"

Zane's eyes light up, and he turns to Morro, words chosen way too carefully.

"What are you? I didn't really see any match yet."

"I'm a keydro, probably a yellow one... Mood swings and emotion control issues are let's say common, but at least mine is so much of a hostile type that you wouldn't ever get possessed. It wouldn't end well for that ghost. We're more of possesser spirits in general. There's grey and green too, but there's not much difference."

Nya isn't exactly subtle at voicing her opinion, voice venomous.

"That would explain why you're such an asshole."

Kai's uncertain, quiet voice suddenly rings out, grief clearly staining it.

"What about Lloyd?"

Morro freezes mid-turn at that, stalling for a few seconds before sighing and flopping down on the ground, eyes miles away. His voice is quiet, and Kai catches a slight emotion in it, something he never thought he'd hear from the ghost.

"Sikol..."

It's terror… fear…

"Black sikol... and trust me, that's not something you want to meet in pure form. Especially not in… his case... Sikols are... unusual and… rare. They have insane mental birth defects, completely missing whole emotions sometimes..."

"Mother of god-"

"Too unstable for possession, but you can't recognise them at all... they don't have a trait you can see to recognise them. They can't heal either… at all."

"So that's why the kid still had nightmares about Darkley's years later-"

"Yes… their wounds stay open for years, making them unpredictable and agressive… Very aggressive… They're vicious, and don't care about anything… sometimes not even their own lives… There's white, gold, grey and black and-"

Morro takes a few seconds to stabilize himself before somehow continuing in a more panicked manner.

"And black ones resemble demons more than humans… they take a dragon like shape and a… shadow like appearance, with glowing wounds and eyes... Fighting one isn't just unwise, but downright suicidal… It's like you picked a fight with a rabid dragon!"

It's in that moment that the question he's been wanting to ask for months explodes out of Kai, anger and pain soaking his voice.

"Then why didn't you stop? If it was unwise and dangerous why didn't you just let him go and try possess one of us? Why him?"

"Because he was the leader, and if I let him get home and tell you about me I won't have a second chance! It's just simple strategy Kai! Besides this way there's at least one person who knows how close he was to snapping permanently... an abandonment break blinding your soul's right eye isn't something you can ignore for long-"

"What's an abandonment break?"

"I said too much again didn’t I? *sigh* It's the most dangerous mental injury you can suffer from... Any break is dangerous, as it's the damage of an emotional core, and you can get it with emotional trauma. An abandonment break is when your love and trust cores get damaged, and the name comes from it being found mostly on people without parents... I've never known that it can appear over your eye until I've seen Lloyd's... It looked serious and like it has been there most of his life... I'm pretty sure it's from Darkley's."

The silence that follows Morro's last statement is so thick, they could cut it if they tried. Everyone is trying to understand the new information, still partially in denial.

"I've been taught how to possess, how to keep control and how to try to avoid sikols for decades, but never once did anyone mention that a 14 year old with the soul injuries of a 90 year old war veteran can exist, much less how he fights! He was weak but attacked in waves, and then it took a lot of force to keep him down... The-The only good thing that came out of this is that I completed the mission given to me and that I showed the world how weak it is. I don't think people should depend on just a person to protect them this much...There's simply no way Helena is doing this for fun, she probably feels like I took something from her and in return she's gonna mess with something she doesn't understand, and-and that will result in chaos! People who feel like they were exploited in their lives are agressive upon forced ressurrection! The problem isn't that Helena is planning to do something disrespectful and disgusting, it's because she's planning on unleashing something no one can control! That's why it's important to stop her. I doubt you'd be happy if someone woke you up at 1 am demanding you to save the world... Imagine how Lloyd will feel, waking up in his fucking rotten body!"

The silence after this is far less thick, Kai making an uneasy, seemingly forced statement.

"Then I suppose… we can work together… but only if you play fairly and by our rules."

"I never expected anything else."

[lovergurrl411]

whumptober no. 1 - shaky hands (IronDad)

“Shit, shit, shit,” Peter’s hands shook as he tried to push against the bullet wound in his arm. 

“Peter,” Karen’s voice broke his concentration. “You have an incoming call from Mr. Stark.” 

“Are you crazy?” Peter panicked. “Ignore, ignore--”

“Baby Monitor protocol prohibits me from ignoring any calls from Mr. Stark,” Karen explained matter-of-factly. 

“Karen, please--” Peter tried to plead and control his trembling hand as he swung his way to Neds house which was closer than his own. “You’re not ignoring. That’s harsh. No. You--you’re just prioritizing. I’ve got a more pressing problem.” 

“Baby Monitor Protocol dictates that I inform Mr. Stark when you’ve been severely injured--”

“This isn’t severe, Karen!” Peter finally reached his destination, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever swung that fast before. He leaned his head against the window for a moment, harshly breathing. He could already feel his body healing--no,no,no. “I’m already getting better. Please, I’ll call him back. I swear Karen. Just, I need a minute, okay.” 

Karen didn’t respond, but the fact that she didn’t patch him through was enough for Peter. He tapped the window a few times until Ned came into view. 

“Dude!” Ned whispered in that dramatic fashion of his. “Are you crazy? Have you met my mom--is that blood?” 

Peter slid into the room, and nodded. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking though. Because he’d been shot. Not in a video game, not in some simulated exercise--he’d been shot and he wasn’t sure how to process that yet, so he dealt with the most imminent problem. 

“I was shot--”

“Oh my god,” Ned’s eyes widened in horror. “You need a hospital!”

“Ned!” Peter whisper-shouted to get the overwhelmed boys attention. He removed his hand from the wound that wasn’t bleeding as much as it had been before. “It’s already healing--I can’t go to a hospital...” 

“What do we do?” 

“We need to handle this--I can’t live with a bullet inside of me, traveling through my body--” 

“Please stop, dude,” Ned shook his head. “You’re not making this better. Why aren’t we calling Mr. Stark?”

“Are you crazy? I wasn’t even supposed to be patrolling tonight. I’ll be in so much trouble.” 

They stood in silence for a second. Then--

“Google.” Ned said firmly. “We need to google how to take out a bullet.”

Peter smiled. “This is why your my guy in the chair.” 

But taking out a bullet was harder than it seemed, and it required steady hands, which neither Peter nor Ned had at the moment, one too freaked out and the other in too much pain. The wound wasn’t fatal by any means, but it bled, and it hurt, and they were fifteen--way in over their heads at that moment.

Tears burned Peter’s eyes as Ned wiggled the tweezer’s he’d stolen from his older sister’s room in Peter’s wound, trying to grab hold of the bullet.

“Tell me you’ve almost got it,” Peter grit his teeth, but the pain was climbing because they had to keep stretching the wound open to make sure they could get the bullet out. Rapid healing was amazing and it was such a damned curse. 

“Dude, not even a bit” Ned practically cried. “I don’t even now how people do this shit in hospitals! It’s too slippery--I can’t. I just--dude. This isn’t working.” 

At that moment, they both realized that they had to call for help. They were in so much trouble. 

“Karen,” Peter put the mask back on. His hands shook, he was in pain, and he still hadn’t processed what had actually happened. 

Robbery. 

Masked men.

Guns.

Shots fired. 

A burning in his arm that reminded Peter how human he really was; sometimes he forgot. 

“Yes, Peter,” Karen said kindly, like a mother who’d been waiting patiently for her son to figure out he needed help. 

“Call Mr. Stark.”

It only took a moment, and the second that Peter heard Mr. Stark’s voice, his tears started to come in earnest. 

“Hey, hey, kid,” Tony’s freaked eyes looked at him. “What’s the matter? Are you crying?” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter sobbed, and it was like a dam had broken inside of him. He’d been shot. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and why wouldn’t they stop shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Okay, no apologizing,” Tony said firmly, but there was clear concern in his voice. “Everything’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong?” 

“I was shot,” Peter whispered brokenly. It cracked like glass shattering on the floor, and Tony was frozen in fear for a moment. 

“What?” his eyes were just as wide as Ned’s had been, but whereas Ned had been panicking, Tony was clearly moving with determination. “Where are you?” 

“I’m at Ned’s,” Peter’s voice continued to crack--he felt so human. It’d been so long since he’d felt like this. This was like being buried under the rubble by Toomes all over again; he was helpless, hurt, heartbroken because how could he save others if he couldn’t even save himself? “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I know--I know I wasn’t supposed to be out tonight. And--And I know it was so stupid getting shot--”

“Hey, you don’t control people shooting at you,” Tony tried to reassure him. He understood the feelings of inadequacy that came with getting hurt on the job. He’d been on the receiving end of those feelings his fair share in the past few years.

Thankfully there’d been someone right next to him, telling him it’s okay, Tony. Being hurt is human. Even us super-soldiers get hurt too sometimes. Everyone gets knocked down. You just gotta let someone help pick you up until you can pick yourself up. I’ve got you until then. 

Liar. 

Tony shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts, but grateful that he could now impart that knowledge to Peter. 

“Listen, everyone gets hurt, alright kiddo?” Tony wasn’t as great with words as he’d been, but he tried for Peter. “I’m almost there, Peter, but you gotta know that this is okay. It’s okay to get hurt, and let someone help you. I wish you’d called me first before going to Ted--”

“His name’s Ned,” Peter let out a small huff that Tony took would have been a laugh had he not been in pain. 

“Can you meet me on the roof? I’m not sure how I would explain my presence to Ned’s Mom.” 

In a few moments, Peter had thanked Ned, promised to call him tomorrow, and had crawled one armed up to the roof. 

Seeing Tony only made a fresh round of tears come up, but Peter tried to keep them at bay. Tony, without any words swept him up to carry him as though he was a toddler again. 

They reached the tower in six minutes; it only took Mr. Stark’s steady hands two minutes to pull the bullet out of his arm. Another two to stitch him up though the wound was already healing now that nothing was lodged in and no one was trying to actively keep it open.

Silence engulfed them both, but Peter knew he needed to explain. He knew he had to deal with what happened, but he wasn’t sure how. 

“My healing,” Peter said shakily, as he simply stared at his hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. “It kept getting in the way, and it was taking Ned too long to take the bullet out, so we had to keep stretching the wound open, and--”

“Kid, kid, stop,” Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter sagged in exhaustion or relief; he wasn’t sure which, and it didn’t really matter much. “Look, I know I’m a hard ass with you sometimes, and I can’t help that--I was raised by Howard Stark, and whether we like it or not, we learn how to parent from our parents even if it’s shitty sometimes. The point is, you’re okay, and that’s what matters most, okay? And next time, call me.”

Peter nodded, but he couldn’t look away from his hands. 

“I got shot tonight.” 

“Yeah, kid, don’t remind me--you’re cutting years off my life.” It was a dismissive joke, meant to mask how scared and distraught Tony had actually been when he’d been told. “And remind me to fix whatever went wrong with the Baby Monitor Protocol that should’ve alerted me.” 

Peter gave him  guilty look, and Tony was sure he’d messed with the AI somehow to get around it. Silence wrapped them in a warm embrace as the city lights shined bright; Peter couldn’t stop the words from forming.

“How long till my hands stop shaking?” 

It was such an innocent question that Tony didn’t know how to tell him that his were shaking too, now that they weren’t needed to completely focus and make sure Peter was okay. 

“Soon,” Tony promised as he grabbed as drink from the bar and sat on the couch opposite Peter in the living room. “Now sleep, kid. I’m right here.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that being a superhero meant this his hands won’t ever stop shaking--he’ll just learn to control better when to let them with time.      

[the--sad--hatter]

Phantom Pain (25)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF.

DESCRIPTION - Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom.

Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Five - Two Kings 

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he fell to his knees and gasped. His strength left him and he collapsed, the death rattle of his final breaths tearing from his lungs. You calmly knelt beside him on the ground and though he didn’t deserve it, you took his hand.

 “I’m here.” You whispered.

 He tried to say something, but you couldn’t hear him. With a sigh, you leant down and let Alexander King whisper his dying words in your ear.

“I’m not Alexander King, your father is buried under the oak tree.”

 The two King corpses lay side by side on tables next to one another. One that had been dead for less than 24 hours and one that had been dead for nearly two decades.

 “DNA analysis is done.” Bruce told you and you looked up from the tables to stare blankly at him.

 “We compared the DNA samples to yours. This one shares no traits at all with you. It doesn’t have any DNA traits at all as far as we can tell.” He said, gesturing to the fresh corpse.

 “This one… this is your biological father.” He said with a heavy sigh standing by the skeletal remains.

 “But that IS Alexander King. It looks exactly like him and if they don’t share DNA does  rule out evil twin?” Clint said from behind you where he and The Avengers were gathered.

 “We discovered something. His cells have been tampered with, there’s dozens of enhancements and alterations to his genetic code. We theorised that someone, most likely Hydra went to a lot of effort to make whoever this is look like Alexander King. We can’t be sure until we study the body further.” Tony said.

 Everyone kept shooting furtive, concerned glances at you as you remained silent and stone faced throughout the exchange.

 “Jesus Christ.” Steve said, rubbing his hand over his jaw as he considered the implications of what this meant.

 “So anybody could be an imposter?” Sam asked.

 “Unlikely. It was a miracle this man survived this, it’s likely he was the first one to survive. This kind of science takes a lot of failed experimentation.” Bruce informed them.

 “Why King?” Steve asked.

 “He was smart, powerful, rich and his brother in law was at the time, a United States General.” Tony said.

 You turned around and without looking at anybody, left the room. You made it as far as the corridor before Bucky caught up with you and grabbed your elbow. You stopped and looked at him.

 Whatever he’s been about to say died in his throat when he looked into your eyes and he knew he couldn’t fix this. Regretfully he let go of you and let you walk away. He didn’t want to but he knew if he didn’t, he’d only push you away further. You needed your space and he needed to give it to you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn’t return to the compound that night or the next day and The Avengers would have been worried if it wasn’t for the news that kept trickling in.

 THE PHANTOM BUSTS DRUG DEAL AT DOCKS

Over Three Million Dollard worth of cocaine recovered at scene.

 PHANTOM BOTCHES ATTEMPTED SHOOTING OF CLUB OWNER

The Owner Lux was about to be gunned down by business rival when The Phantom appeared and saved Mr Ellis and apprehended the shooter.

 PHANTOM BREAKS UP GANG FIGHT

Members of two rival gangs were in a gun battle when The Phantom showed up and took down all the gang members before leaving the scene for the police and personally taking one man who had suffered a near fatal gunshot wound to the hospital.

 “She’s had a busy 24 hours, she needs to slow down.” Steve noted with worry as he read the latest article.

“There’s been no new reports for a couple of hours, maybe she’s taking a nap?” Sam suggested hopefully.

 “Or not.” Natasha said, showing them a live tweet about Miss King currently meeting with employees of The Hercules Foundation to reassure them of their job stability.  

 The pattern continued for the next four days. You would take down a string of criminals, take business meeting and meet with investors, rest, rise and repeat. You never went back to the compound and West was growing more and more concerned.

 Even Frank the cat was growing despondent until he disappeared from the grounds altogether. West assured Bucky that it was normal for Frank to do that.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sat down on the chair, keeping yourself hidden in the shadows as you waited. You weren’t kept waiting long. You heard the heavy tump of footsteps before someone unlocked the door and came inside. They walked past you and put a paper bag down on the desk and you heard the distinctive clink of a bottle.

 “It’s rude to break in and wait around for someone to come home. Not to mention creepy.” She said without turning around.

 You didn’t answer, just stood up and dropped a file and a bag of cash on the desk.

 “I don’t take walk ins. Next time make an appointment.” She sassed and you looked her over.

 Jessica Jones was pretty much what you had expected and any other time in your life you’d have appreciated her dry remarks and cold sass. You flipped the file open and two photo’s of the two King corpse were exposed as well as a pile of papers, the Hydra logo prominent on some of them.

 It was enough to pique her curiosity and she leaned over to leaf through them, her expression getting more and more shocked as she did. She unzipped the duffle bag and picked up a wad of bills.

 “Alright, what the hell. Daredevil trusts you so I’ll take the case.” She said and you nodded to her and tuned to leave.

 “I’ll have to read through these but straight away I’m telling you, I want to speak to the daughter. She demolished the company within days of the apparently fake Alexander King dying. Seems suspicious.” She said.

 “She had nothing to do with it.” You said lowly.

 “Still wanna talk to her, have a look at the company files.” Jessica responded.

 “I can get you whatever you need but I’m telling you Miss King had nothing to do with this.” You told her, turning around again.

 “How can you be sure?”

 You wordlessly pulled your mask off and raised an eyebrow at her.

 “Alright.” She said, shrugging and turning back to the file.

 You almost smirked as you pulled the mask on and left. As you walked the three block back to where you’d parked your bike the skin on the back of your neck prickled and you felt like someone was watching you. You ghosted, going invisible instead of just sticking to the shadows but the feeling didn’t dissipate.

 You made it back to your bike and started the engine, peeling out of the parking space and racing away.

 Ten minutes later you made it to your destination and bypassing the security system you parked the bike under an alcove where it was hidden from sight. You tugged a glove off with your teeth and put your hand on the scanner at the front door and slipped inside, leaving the door unlocked.

 Only two people could track where you were when you were invisible and only one of those would bother.

 “An abandoned church? Really?” Bucky asked as he slipped through the door after you.

 “Condemned a few years ago. When I realised I needed somewhere private for my Vigilante related stuff I bought it under a shell corporation, it can’t be traced back to me at all.” You said as you took off all the individual pieces of your suit until you were in a tank top and leggings.

 “So you’ve been hiding here all week rather than coming home?” He asked.

 “There a bed in the attic.” You said with a shrug.

 “An empty bed.” He pointed out softly.

 You pretended to ignore him and the painful throb of your heart and went to the living room are you’d set up and poured yourself a glass of whisky. Frank meowed loudly from the rafters and leaped down onto the floor to run over to Bucky and rub himself against the Winter Soldiers shin.

 “Want one?” You asked, holding the bottle out in offering.

 “No. Does it help with the pain?” He asked, motioning angrily to the new and healing bruises and cuts covering your arms and shoulders.

 “Can’t ghost all the time, sometimes you gotta fight.” You explained.

 “Ever thought about asking for backup?”

 “Don’t need it.”

 “Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t hurt to know someone is there for you.” He said.

 “We’re not talking about fighting anymore are we?” You asked with a weary sigh.

 He sat down next to you and you fought the urge to lean closer to him and the warmth and comfort he offered.

 “When my memories started to come back, I ran to the other side of the world, away from the person who could have helped me, who would have been there for me. I know that sometimes you need to work things out on your own, that’s why I let you go. But it helps when you let the people you care about in, let them help. Trust me, I know from experience.” He said.

 You chewed your lip and nodded once, curtly to show you’d hear him but when you didn’t respond beyond that he sighed.

 “It’s doesn’t have to be me Domniţă, but it has to be someone. I’m not the only one who cares about you, you have friends. Let someone, anyone be there for you.” He instructed and stood up.

 He leaned over to place a soft kiss to your forehead and you closed your eyes to hide the tears welling up in them as he walked away.

 “He wasn’t the same person after my mother died. I said it, over and over again and not once did I realise how true it was. My father rotted in an unmarked grave for 18 years and I had no idea. I accepted the imposter without question.” You said, tearing up and getting annoyed at yourself for it.

 “You were a child, one who was mourning her mother. How could you have seen it? The disguise was flawless.” He argued.

 “He was my father. I should have known.” You snapped standing up and storming away.

 “He played the part well. Nobody else figured it out and they were adults so stop beating yourself up about it.”

 “I CAN’T!” you yelled.

 “I can’t Bucky. He was my dad and I believed he hated me. I desecrated his memory and let his killer go unpunished for decades.” You said, pleading with him to understand.

 “You know now. We’ll figure out what happened, we’ll make it right.” He assured, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you.

 “How? How do I solve a murder that happened 18 years ago? Do I even want to? How do I make this right and be a hero and run a company and keep my secrets and be with you all at the same time?” You asked breathlessly, overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all.

 “With help.” He said.

 “It’s too much. It’s too much pressure and too much pain and I don’t think I can handle it.” You admitted.

 “Let me help you.” He pleaded.

 “How? How can you make any of this better?”

 He looked down at you in contemplation.

 “We start with the man in prison for your mothers murder, he might know more. As for the company, you need a Pepper Potts, someone to help you. Next time you’re a press conference, we’ll have Loki disguise himself as The Phantom and publicly be seen so nobody ever thinks about connecting you to the Vigilante. And accept that I have no expectations of you, you don’t have to do anything except be with me, it’s not a task or a chore.” He said and you gazed up at him in awe and wonder.

“And Domniţă you don’t have to be a hero, you already are one, on the battlefield and in the boardroom.” He added.

 You were speechless and overwhelmed by his mini speech, his confidence in you and his desire to help. So you stretched up and pressed your lips to his.

 He accepted the kiss eagerly, holding onto you tightly kissing you back with equal fervour. His metal hand slid up your back and grasped the back of your neck as he nipped your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth when you gasped.

 “Did you say there was a bed?” He murmured, pulling back a fraction.

 “Yes.”

 “Do you want to use it?” He smirked.

 “I don’t just want it, I need it. I need you Bucky, please.” You whispered, begging him to pull you out of your own head and give you pleasure and safety in the way only he could.

 His pupils expanded as he drank in the meaning behind what you were saying.

 “Do you trust me?” He asked.

 “Irrevocably.” You said without hesitating.

 “Turn around.” He ordered and you did.

 He stepped away for a moment and quickly returned. He brushed his fingers across your shoulders and down your arms, clasping your wrist in his grip before he pulled them behind your back. He waited for a moment to see if you were going to object and when you didn’t, he pushed your wrists together and expertly bound them together with a soft piece of material.

 “What’s the safeword?” he checked.

 “Winter.”

 “Good girl.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Well this might answer some questions but it probably raises some new ones as well. Fear not though readers, Jessica Jones is on the case!

Next up... Smut! :D

@drdorkus   @gravedollie666  @sadsoldat  @bigplantdaddy  @moodyruth  @likes-to-smell-books  @shirukitsune  @inquisitor-selvala  @myfandomlife-blog  @markusstraya   @adeleoctobre  @vajeenparty  @sexyvixen7  @love-nakamura  @buckitybarnes  @littledeadrottinghood  @pinkisokay  @jsmith509  @brownlee-22  @angieptt    @thosesexytexasboys   @liveonce-sodoitright  @tarastudiesalot  @spnrvt  @dahkness   @dilaila95  @rororo06  @mizzzpink  @release-the-cathyrchkn   @thefridgeismybestie    @fairislesheets​  @strangersstranger​  @life-wanderer​​   @uuuuuuuuggggghhh​​  @curiositykilledthepepe  @musingpredilection  @boxofteenageideas  @thelostallycat  @demonlover87  @cutie1365  @mcuthemusical  @caroldanvers616  @chipilerendi @scarlettswxtch   @undiscovered-misunderstood  @itsmejessicasstuff  @musingsofafangirlblog @moli1497 @deathofmissjackson

[gooddadstan]

Fuzzy Walls and Tired Eyes

I wrote something, and people didn't hate it so what a way to start off than crossposting to tumblr?

Everything was going to be okay. He’d made a will, sent the company back to Bruce, tried to make sure they’d be able to understand his case notes, and did his damndest to let them know that it wasn’t any of their faults and he loved them. He was the only one to not die yet, after all, and statistics just spoke the cold truth. He was going to be next, and he’d prepared for it. So yeah, Tim was pretty sure that everything was going to be just fine. Maybe he hadn’t anticipated it happening like this, but c’est la vie, sometimes you’ve just gotta take what life chucks at you and run with it.

With that preparedness and peace of mind, the actions he’s taking feels like nothing more than an aimless ritual than a fight for life. Turn on the emergency tracker, take the bandages from his belt and start trying to patch up what he can, activate the comm and ask for backup. None of them would make it in time, anyway. He’d been watching as they fanned out, just blips on his GPS screen as they forge on with the search for the Joker that Red Robin had abandoned for taking care of the drug case he’d hyperfocused on over the last couple of days. Every one of the bats was too far away, and even the newbie Signal was out and about in the darkness.

But maybe if he’d left the drug case for another week or two just to catch the Joker and come back, he wouldn’t be bleeding out in an empty warehouse on the pier. Maybe if he’d only thought to bring his phone with him he’d be able to call Bart or Kon and the voice he couldn’t raise above a whisper would be enough to bring him back to the cave. Maybe if he’d asked Babs to stay by the computer that night instead of letting her rest while nursing her case of the flu, citing worry over the Joker search instead of his own agenda. He’s sure she’d know what he’d been up to anyway. Maybe if he’d let Alfred stay in the usual schedule instead of being a part of the mob convincing the clearly overworked man to take a vacation, he’d be able to call for the caring butler and the familiar sight of the Batmobile rolling to a stop outside wouldn’t only be a projection on behalf of his exhausted mind, and the almost laughable visage of the cowl still leaving a mustache visible above the suit so finely pressed and painfully out of the ordinary in the dirty streets would be by his side muttering assurances instead of staring ominously in typical hallucination-showing-your-worst-fears fashion. Maybe if they’d actually gone through with calling Alfred back after the Joker broke out of Arkham instead of forcing him to keep relaxing wherever in Europe he was at the time without knowledge of the situation, he would’ve been sitting with a cup of coffee next to Alfred’s tea, having been convinced by a short mention of being lonely left at the computer watching the comms alone.

Maybe there had been so many ways to avoid this, and not have to subject the others to his rambling notes and ill-articulated theories as they take over his cases, but he’d been too incompetent to see them. Maybe he should at least try to get back to the cave and into the medbay, not make them go through the effort to retrieve his body to keep some random thug from unmasking him and placing suspicion on his family. Maybe he should’ve been more careful, gotten rid of his blood on the scene, confiscated the knives and guns fired and stabbed at him, not have been so sloppy in his form with the takedown.

It’s a bit too late for that now, though.

The drugs were blown up, the police were likely on-scene arresting the goons by now, and the gangs that instigated the bust in the first place were too small to not be terribly crippled by the loss. Their promise in rising through the ranks was at least put off long enough for the Bats to attend to the more ‘super’ of their enemies in Gotham for a while. His family would take over his remaining cases, likely finishing them faster than Tim himself would’ve been able to. He had enough reason to be okay with this situation in the end. His own fuck-ups aside, he’d gotten done what he needed to. He swore, by this logic, that his family would be just as well if not better off because of the way the bust ended up.

So who’s going to care if what bandages he does apply are a bit too haphazard to be effective, if he doesn’t repeat his request for backup with his current location after what he’s pretty sure is five minutes passes and protocol says he should. Who’s going to care if in the end he’s not really helping himself. If any of them cared any more than for the necessary hassle of moving and burying his body, creating a false death for his public persona, and going through the motions of mourning the acting CEO of W.E., Timothy Drake-Wayne, for the sake of the rest of their secret identities, maybe they would blame his current carelessness on the blood loss. Maybe they would blame it on what’s probably a major concussion visible from the sheet of pain going from his left temple to his chin. They could even blame it on Tim himself, no injury to buffer it. He could deal with that. After his vision goes black in just a few more minutes, he shouldn’t be able to think and feel things about it anyway. That’s how Jason described it, anyway. Painless and empty and without your own mind really there to interfere.

Though, at this point Tim’s entire body was pained, from the dull aches of sore muscles to the sharp piercing hurt of his assorted knife and gunshot wounds. As much as he trusted his brother, he wasn’t sure if it was even possible for all of that pain could just cease to exist. He wasn’t sure if the brain could even comprehend what was beyond, if anything really was, or if that comforting nothing Jason had almost seemed wistful for was just the way the human brain tried to fill the gap in comprehensibility that was created after that bomb went off. When had he asked that, anyway? It must’ve been over… oh. A week ago, at most. Not the most convenient time to be dying, he supposed. Too coincidental. It’s not like he’d meant to go out and get killed.

Which was true, wasn’t it? He’d thought he could handle it, and just didn’t want to distract any of the others from the Joker, right? There was no way that he’d done this on purpose, much less subconsciously. Except, he’d known how many people were going to be at the trade tonight. He’d known that there would be less people at smaller ones later on, far less armed and more calculated aggression levels. Less dangerous. He’d known that he’d likely suffer at least some of what Alfred called ‘excessive injury’, but he was okay with that. He’d planned to get out of the situation with maybe a gunshot wound or two at most. Nothing too fatal, he’d had worse and lived through it. There was no way that this was intentional. But he could have asked someone else for help, couldn’t he. He wouldn’t have been able to take Bruce or Jason away from the Joker, of course, maybe not even Damian from the way he growled and made threats as the group left, but asking Duke or Steph to watch his back would probably be feasible with minimal effect on the effectiveness of tonight's search.

So why’d he go out alone again?

Right, yeah, taking out the Joker took priority. The effectiveness of their search would still drop without another person, and whereas his involvement would likely not help at all, the others were imperative for this plan to work. All useful hands on deck, and he could take this alone. He was sure of it. Well, he was sure of it before. He should’ve at least made it back to the cave, no matter how injured he was. He was just being dramatic, his bike’s only a couple blocks away and here he is still only lying here while he’s got two working- two vaguely working- one vaguely working leg. That should be enough to get him to the medbay, right?

The others would only be disappointed in his performance right now, no doubt they’d all have been back in the cave if they’d taken the case, taking a nap after pressing enter on the completed report. Even if they’d gotten the same injuries, which they never would, they’d take care of them more efficiently and wouldn’t even have to take those antibiotics somebody managed to shove down his throat every time he was injured while going on about his lack of a spleen. No wonder he was laying here so pathetically as his comms buzzed in his ear. Wait, his comm is buzzing in his ear. Somebody’s trying to contact him. That’s not right. Did they catch the Joker already? It’d only been maybe a day and a half since the escape, nothing ever happens this quickly. Unless one of the others got hurt in a trap the Joker had placed? God, he knew he should’ve been out there instead, the others shouldn’t have to intercept the Joker’s traps.

Fumbling with the comm in his ear, the familiar click of getting into the channel rings small, smaller than it ever should be, bringing yet another injury to Tim’s attention as the scowl that had formed subconsciously grew deeper.

“-mmy! Timmy you’ve got to answer me, can you hear me?” The surprise that sinks through Tim’s chest isn’t enough to get his drooping eyelids to rise even a centimeter as he hears Di-Nightwing’s, no names in the field, voice echo through his head sharply even with the low volume.

“Nightwing?” It comes out as even less than a whisper, pleading and croaking and so undeniably pained that it sends an overwhelming wave of shame through his soul that hadn’t been there before.

Nightwing, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the tone. At least, he didn’t let the likely increased levels of worry about Tim’s wellbeing bleed into his reaction in the slightest if he did, the steady voice still the same hardly panicked steadfast rumble it is in most situations. Tim can’t help but resent that Nightwing had to have perfected maintaining that controlled expression. “Yeah, yeah it’s me, Nightwing. Timmy, Black Bat and I are coming to pick you up and bring you back to the cave. Is your tracker still on you? How badly are you injured?”

They shouldn’t be here, they should keep looking for the Joker, not bothering themselves with coming back here, go save more lives! Come on, you stupid mouth, object to this, do something! His grumble of frustration doesn’t even make it past his lungs, a noise so pitiful it could barely even be considered a cough bursting from his lips instead as his entire body still managed to shake and scream against the movement. There’s no time to focus on the pain, just report and convince the others that he can get back to the cave himself and they don’t need to leave their mission. Make them believe that he’d hit his emergency tracker on accident, and had been doing recon in this warehouse without realizing it was even on.

As Tim tried to angle his head so he could assess his injuries in a way that would be remotely coherent as well as significantly more non-lethal than they actually are, didn’t he do that before he got here, the swaying support beam in his line of sight caught his attention. Heh, it looks like that one thing on the internet where- no, wait, that’s not something support beams are supposed to do. That’s fairly concerning, seeing as the entire warehouse is in danger of falling on top of him should his eyes not be betraying him. Trying to form at least another word, at least mentioning the concussion so they wouldn’t have to guess on it, maybe even the fact that the building might fall and he’d be on his way out, his tongue stopped feeling like a piece of his body, and more like some weird… meat sausage warm hurty thing. Yeah, that’s what it is. And hold on, no, that’s a muscle that definitely belongs to him and is a part of his body, not some random lump of meat in his mouth. He knew that, he’s always known that. What’s even going on with his brain? Wasn’t he doing something? Why’s he on the ground?

Pushing himself back into a sitting position, he chokes out a groan and lets everything slow the unceasing screech against his entire existence before opening his eyes again.

Hm. That’s mildly concerning.

Now, Tim’s fairly certain that he’s not any kind of expert on warehouse construction, as he usually focuses on infiltration rather than means of building, but giant splotchy pools of red along the walls and floor don’t exactly scream up to code. Looks almost like blood. That isn’t his, right? Was he bleeding? Oh, wait, yeah he is, he very much is. That would probably go along with the absolute agony spreading through every ounce of his being like a nuclear bomb going off on repeat every two seconds. Didn’t he know that? There’s some kind of wacky buzzing in his ear, like a fly managed to get right into his ear canal, and one arm flings up to swat it away for some black cold thing to intercept his hand as it goes backwards into what might as well be an abyss for how much Tim’s spatial awareness is doing its job. Hey, the buzzing’s gone, but now his arm feels like it’s got at least seven nukes going off in it, which seems like it should be a concerning number of nukes.

And oop, walls probably shouldn’t go wildly in and out of that fuzziness, but who’s to say? Technology’s gotten pretty wild since aliens revealed themselves to be a thing, and maybe somebody decided they wanted walls that could morph into fuzzies at any point in time. That’d be kinda cool to have in a house. Wait this isn’t a house, right? He doesn’t think it’s his apartment, he wouldn’t have had the time to install fuzzy walls, and this floor is too hurty to be his own. He would know, he spends a lot of time lying down on it. Why isn’t he home right now? A nap sounds like a good plan right now, but he’s in somebody else’s house. Should he be bleeding on somebody else’s floor? That doesn’t sound good. But something that does sound good? Just closing his eyes and ignoring the alarm in the back of his head screaming at him to get up and do something, whatever that something is, just a little bit quieter than the pain crashing through his body, holding him in a vice of suffering. Yeah, he thinks, I’m gonna… I’m gonna do that.

And around Tim, as his head hits the metal of the warehouse underneath him with a resounding thunk, the world fades to black.

[scaryscarecrows]

Long Live the Knight

AN: I considered tacking this onto ‘Returning Home’, but. Well. Why would I do that when I can hurt you again? For free! Your choice as to whether it’s an alternate ending or canon; whichever makes you happy, my friends.

Happy birthday, Jason!

* * *

Even though it’s technically their fault, Antoine is grateful there’s no emergency services coming. That is one more headache they can’t afford to deal with right now.

(Although they could...maybe...sort of take them hostage? No, no, they can’t, but…)

The rain is doing a fine job of getting the fire under control, but somehow that just makes this worse. With the inferno gone, they can get a good look at what’s left of Arkham. It’s not much. There’s a couple of walls that survived the blast, but at least one of them looks like it’s swaying where it stands. Everything else is a pile of bricks and smouldering wood, with a few broken gargoyles scattered amongst the rubble.

“What do we do?” Jimmy’s whispering. He’s fine, minus the headache; whatever the Bat nailed him with didn’t last long. Or wasn’t enough. Who knows. Who cares. “Do we just...leave?”

He doesn’t know. Nowhere was this possibility mentioned. Even all the way down the list to contingency plan fuckin’ Z, this was not planned for.

“Antoine?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know!” He gestures to the buildings. Or. What’s left of them. “I don’t know, man, just...just give me a minute, okay?”

Okay. Okay. Gordon and Robin are in the car. Gordon wasn’t too happy with being a technical hostage yet again, but he’d shut up about it for the time being in favor of making sure Robin’s okay. He seems to be fine. You know. Given the circumstances. He’s not gonna bleed out or anything awful. But… 

Logically, he knows the boss has to be dead. There’s no way in hell he could have survived that blast, especially not with that gunshot wound, and…

But he’s shrugged off explosions before. And they can’t just leave him here, but…

He has no idea what to do.

“Do a walkthrough,” he says at last. “See if he turns up, and if he doesn’t, we’ll...we’ll go. I guess. I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

Antoine has no idea which is worse; finding what’s left of him, or not finding him at all.

“Somebody stay with Gordon.”

“On it.”

Trent gets Gordon duty, in case the guy tries anything, and the rest of them spread out to search the grounds. Well. As much as they can, anyway.

There’s no sign of the Knight. No sign of Batman, either-what was that?

Nothing. Just. Just wind. Or rubble settling, whatever. Nothing living.

(He doubts there’s anything living under that.)

He should, he guesses, get back on the main line and...and tell people that the Knight’s gone, give the order to pull out and...he doesn’t know. There weren’t supposed to be fatalities.

(There wasn’t supposed to be this fatality.)

There’s a noise and he flails until the flashlight hits a shadow a few feet away. His first thought is a terrified, BATMAN!, but it’s not Batman. No ears.

“Identify yourself!”

Whoever it is says nothing and he moves closer. Maybe Batman lost his cowl-that’s not the Bat. Holy shit, it’s the boss. How the hell…?

Doesn’t matter. 

“I found him!”

“What?”

“Where are you?”

“Over here!”

Frank’s sprinting over here already, Mark not far behind, and Antoine checks-more out of habit than anything-for Batman before following.

The Knight doesn’t see to see them, even when they get close. His hand’s still plastered to his side, but--

--he’s going down. Frank catches him before he hits the ground and he chokes and tries to right himself, legs twitching like an insect’s, but Frank’s already easing him down with a soft, “We gotcha…we gotcha, you’re okay…you’re okay, just don’t move, you’re gonna hurt yourself…”

“Y-you came back.” He reaches up and grabs onto Frank’s arm, the one bracing his shoulder. “You came back, y-you didn’t—”

“Sh-sh-sh.” Frank moves to let Mark close and tilts the boss’s head away from his side. “Don’t. Just don’t, we’re gonna fix you up, just stay still, okay?”

The Knight gags, back arching, and now there’s blood on his lips and dripping down his chin. Frank pulls a glove off to wipe it away and Mark swears.

“Shit-okay. Okay. Sir? Anything I should know about?”

“Mm.” He swallows, face scrunching up in a clear blech, and gasps out, “I dunno. I dunno, it hurts—”

“Shh,” Frank soothes, and the boss whines. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine. Just stay still.”

“Yeah,” Mark says, and oh no. He sounds. Not mad. “You’re gonna be fine.” Oh no. “I’m not…okay. Okay. Riley! I don’t care what grandmas you have to run down, get the car here, close as you can get it without hitting us. Today!” Antoine doesn’t hear him leave-didn’t even hear him come up-but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s not the stealth expert for nothing. “Okay, boss, you gotta stay still, and you gotta stay with me. All right?”

“M’sorry.” He swallows again, doesn’t even seem to realize that Frank’s started petting his head. “M’sorry, I-I-I tried—”

“Shh. You’re okay, you’re fine, we gotcha, just stay still, okay? Stay with us, Mark’ll patch you up, good as…” Yeah. “Before.”

Somebody gets out another flashlight and Jesus he doesn’t look good. He’s white as a sheet and there’s so much blood and—

That’s not really the Knight, not anymore. That’s a kid, a hurt, terrified kid, and he looks like he’s about to die.

“M’sorry,” he’s still mumbling. “God, m’sorry, I jus’…I didn’t…”

“Shh.” Frank’s fingers cup his chin to keep him from looking at what Mark’s doing. “Shh, you’re fine, just calm down. Breathe with me, come on…”

“Mm—”

“Shh. Don’t talk, just breathe,” Frank murmurs, fingers still stroking his hair. “In and out, nice and easy…you’re gonna be okay, just stay still…”

“Gimme more light,” Mark barks over his shoulder. Then, softer, “Stay still, sir…okay-no-no, you gotta stay awake, boss, c’mon, look at me.”

He shudders, just once, and whispers one last, “Sorry,” before his fingers slip off Frank’s arm and he goes still.

There’s suddenly headlights, and then Mark’s shouting for Trent to ‘get his California-king-sized ass over here and be useful’. But the boss’s eyes are closed, a-and this wasn’t supposed to happen and—

He’s just so still.

* * *

Antoine’s playing a hidden object game when the boss rasps, “George Washington’s in the clock case.”

So he is. Antoine clicks him, pauses, and sets the laptop aside, out of harm’s way.

“You back with us this time, sir?”

“Mm.” He looks at the IV in his hand and grimaces. “Ev’r’yone okay?”

Antoine is seriously, seriously considering beating the dumbass to death. But he knows he’d regret it later, which means he settles for envisioning it, taking a few deep breaths, and trying to keep a neutral tone when he answers, “Yeah. Everyone’s fine. No sign of Batman, but there’s people on the alert.”

Antoine hopes, he really does, that Batman is still buried in the rubble. He would have liked to handle this mess himself-and has been, to an extent-but the last couple of times the boss was conscious, he’d been mentally back at Arkham and freaking out about that. So he’s been hovering from here, sometimes bullying a private into Skyping him and carrying the tablet through the rubble so he can see things. Not that there’s been much to see.

“Good.” The boss yawns and squirms under the blankets a little more. “Status report.”

He’d regret it, honest he would…

“Mark’s gonna kill you for that stunt.”

“S’that all.”

Really. You know what, screw you, Mark, get in line.

“I’m gonna kill you for that stunt.” The boss grins up at him, because he’s an asshole. “I’ll do it! There’s sharp objects in here, I will not hesitate to stab you with something! You fuckin’ left us in a hostile situation with no way of finding out what was going on, brought a building down on yourself, and flatlined. Twice. Two. Whole. Times! Give me one good reason not to stab you. Sir.”

“Paycheck?”

Breathe. Breathe deeply. Let peace and serenity flow through his veins and prevent him from using a scalpel in a way the Surgeon Gods did not intend.

“Seriously.”

“I think s’a good reason.”

“That-that’s not the-fine.” He huffs and throws his weight back so that the chair tilts onto two legs. “It was still stupid, and Mark really is gonna kill you for it, and I’m gonna be cheering him on in the background.”

“Mm.” He turns his gaze to the ceiling, eyes already fluttering shut. “F-five minutes. Gimme five minutes.”

He knows he’s just gonna pass back out. And he should probably go and get Mark anyway. But…well…nothing’s beeping angrily, and it’s not like Antoine can see the future. The boss might still be awake in five minutes.

“Sure, sir,” he says, leaning back down to collect his laptop. “Five minutes it is.”

So sue him. He’s tired. He can put off his revenge for five minutes.

He really does mean for it to be five minutes, but then he gets very comfortable, and the loading screen is sort of hypnotic, and, well…

It isn’t five minutes. He’s not entirely asleep, either; he registers someone coming in and muttering about family dumbasses, and then the someone (or a different someone?) takes his laptop and replaces it with a blanket, still muttering about ‘dumbfucks with no self-preservation’ and ‘do no harm could mean do no permanent damage’.

He blinks and then Mark’s shaking him and grumbling, “If you have a crick, I’m going to laugh at you and then get rid of it by straight-up karate kicking you in the face.” How will that help a crick. What’s happening. “He wake up at all?”

“Little bit.” What year is it. “Enough for me to yell at him.”

“I wanted first crack.”

“Move your face, lose your place.” 

He cracks his neck, then his knuckles, and realizes it’s been, like, two hours. Wow. Mark scowls at him and huffs, “You’re nice, though. You suck at yelling.”

“I threatened to stab him.”

“And ruin my nice, neat, stitches?” He didn’t think this through. “Stay here. If he has another episode, you get to be the backup.”

Oh, great. Just what he’s always wanted.

“Hey, boss,” Mark says, voice unnervingly soft. “You wanna wake up for me?”

“Mm…”

“Wake up, asshole.”

“Hrm…?”

“You heard me. Rise and shine.”

He’s not intervening, he wants to make that clear. Partly because he doesn’t feel that charitable, partly because he does indeed have a crick and he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.

“Jones…?”

Mark is silent. From here, Antoine can see the vein in his temple pulsing.

“Do you know where you are?” he asks at last, voice back to the scary-soft tone. The boss is quiet, probably realizing what sort of danger he’s in.

“Med bay,” he says carefully. Mark nods, slow and exaggerated.

“That’s right. And do you remember why you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me. Just so I can be sure.”

“I’d imagine it has something to do with the bullet wound--”

“THE FUCKING FEAR TOXIN BULLET,” Mark snaps, and then he’s calm again. Or. Sort of calm. The boss, to his credit, doesn’t try to hide under the blankets. Much.

“In my defense, I didn’t know about that part.”

“Of course you didn’t. Continue.”

Antoine fully pretends not to notice the look of ‘please get me out of this’. He’s not doing shit. He’s tired, and this is well-deserved.

“The building collapsed.”

“And why was that?” When the Knight doesn’t answer, Mark steeples his fingers and gazes over the top of them. “What’s that? You’re not remembering? Hmm, perhaps you took a knock to the head when the building collapsed. Yeah, that’s it. So I’ll bring you up to speed, sir, don’t you worry.” Judging from the boss’s expression, he’s...probably wishing he was dead. “Well, the way I heard it, you decided that the best course of action was to lock yourself in with a, if you’ll pardon the expression, batshit crazy Batman and blow up the goddamn asylum.”

“That’s...about what happened, yes.”

Mark gives him the blandest smile Antoine has ever seen.

“Care to tell me why that was the best you could come up with?”

“The good of the many--”

“The many call bullshit. You do not-do not-pull that again, so help me, or I will personally staple a toddler to your back to guilt you into making better choices!” How-no. No. Antoine doesn’t wanna know. “Is that clear?” The Knight’s quiet and Mark sighs. “Lemme see...I’m thinking you got yourself into a pocket when everything came down. Few scrapes. Climbing out made that bullet wound worse, but your armor kept you together enough. Barely,” he warns, one finger popping up. “Do not try and get up, don’t you dare so much as think about doing a damn thing until I say. You still flatlined on me twice, and that toxin did you no favors.” He clicks on his penlight. “Lemme see...that’s cleared out, at least. No more green tinge.”

“Did I...say anything. While I was, ah…” The boss waves his hand a little bit. “Not all here?”

The short, honest answer? Yeah. A lot. Is Antoine going to tell him that? Hell no.

“Not much, boss,” Mark says shortly. “You weren’t really that coherent. Okay, follow my finger, please…”

“Gordon. And. And Robin. They okay?”

Mark sighs.

“Yeah. Only one in really bad shape is your dumb ass. Gordon had scrapes, Robin needed a few stitches. We dropped ‘em off by the GCPD when we were done.”

“Batman?”

“We’re still looking.”

“Great.” He closes his eyes. “Keep an eye out for--”

For the love of God, really?

“Boss,” he says dully, “we are handling this. Maybe shut up and go back to sleep.”

“Old habits,” the Knight murmurs. Mark mimes strangling him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “S’r’y.”

“Hm.” Mark stows the penlight...honestly, Antoine doesn’t know. It was in his hand and now it’s not. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be in later to make sure you’re not dying.”

“‘ve had worse…”

“Yeah,” Mark says carefully. “I, uh, I kinda figured.”

He leaves and Antoine wonders if he can go back to his nap. Is his laptop battery dead-oh God. The crick is real. The crick is real. Maybe being karate-kicked would help after all. Mark? Mark, come back.

“What did I say.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me.”

Shit.

“Um.” Can he lie? No, no, lying is not his strong suit. “You really weren’t. Um. That coherent. Mostly, er, screaming. Not a lot of words.” It was a little closer to fifty-fifty, but eh. Semantics. “And, uh, you were kinda convinced we were still at Arkham, so a bit of that.”

“What else.”

Damn.

“I wasn’t here?”

“Bullshit.”

It takes all his willpower not to shrink into a puddle on the floor and flow gently out of the room to safety.

“I don’t remember?”

“Drouot.”

Ngh.

“A little bit about the, uh, the Joker, boss. Not much-” Well, that they could understand, anyway, with no context and all. “-but a bit.” Enough. Enough for Mark to explain a couple of scars that he’d had trouble pinning down, and enough to rattle him badly. He’d sent one of his little medical minions to get him a bottle of Jack Daniels when it was all over. “Y’know.”

The Knight sighs and drapes an arm over his face.

“Shit.”

There’s nothing to say to that, and Antoine leans down for his laptop. If it’s dead, it’s at least something to use as a shield against the awkwardness.

Mercifully, the boss’s forcefully calm breathing gives way to the shallow, even breaths of sleep in three minutes. Horrible conversation averted. And his laptop still has battery life.

Not that it matters, really. Nothing’s turned up, and honestly, Antoine’s pretty much convinced that nothing will turn up. Batman is either burnt to ashes or holed up somewhere, hunched over a rat carcass and giggling. And as long as he’s not here, that’s...that’s kind of enough, y’know?

Somebody should probably let Gordon know, just in case, but...later. Gordon’s lived this long, even with all those kidnappings. He’ll be fine.

Antoine doesn’t mean to return to his nap. He really doesn’t. But it’s been a long few days, and nothing’s happening for once, and…

Zzzz.

THE END

[jbuffyangel]

who all do you ship on game of thrones and how do you think it will end?

OMG I think this is my first Game of Thrones question. Holy crap. Am I ready? Probably not. I’m not good at Games. I have a hard enough time remembering all the character names. (Sometimes I make up my own names because it’s easier). It’s like watching Lost. I never figure out what’s going to happen. I just eat popcorn and watch mesmerized.

The shipping question is super easy: 

Brienne and Jaime. 

I was seriously starved for content last season, but it’s all good because Brienne told Jaimeto fuck loyalty and now he’s on the way to Winterfell. 

They are gonna kill some frozen monster zombies (technical name) together as Mr. and Mrs. Loyal Lobsters. 

Then Jaimeis going to kill Cersai (I also call her Short Haired Crazy Lady Who Likes To Bang Her Brother And Blow Up Shit). But not before Cersei stabs Jaimewith a slowly fatal wound. Jaimewill die in Brienne’s arms, thus fulfilling his dream of dying in the arms of the woman he loves. If God is kind I’ll get a kiss at some point.

Uhhh… that’s like the only real theory I’ve got and I’m pretty sure @callistawolf told me 99.99% of it except she knows the characters’ actual names, so really it’s just her theory and I’m all signed up.

I kind of felt sorry for Cersei at some point along this crazy ride but now she’s just awful and has to go.

I really loved Dragon Lady and Drogo. Yes, I can remember Drogo’s name and not Dragon Lady. I don’t know why. Well… I do know why I remember Drogo. Hello handsome.

Oh wait.. I just remembered her name - Dany. Danythe Dragon Lady!!! See? I get them kind of right. Ugh look at them. Tall and Small. My babies.

I also loved Jon (come on - even I can remember that poor bastard’s name. HAHAHA! GET IT?) and the red headed wild girl who had sex with him in a cave and then married Jon in real life. (Hang on doing a wiki check) YGRITTE. That’s a hard one. She’s so pretty though. Did you see their wedding pictures? Gorgeous. Mazel Tov kids.

Anywho, I’m not super on board with the whole Dany and Jon thing because I like their previous love interests too much. “Moon of my life” is tough to beat ya know? And Drogo looks like Jason Mamoa, so Jon boy needs to step up his game is all I’m sayin. 

This is why Games is a rough go. Everyone friggin dies. I tried not to get too invested in ships when I did my binge because I knew going in pretty much everyone dies. It didn’t work out so well. I still cried.

Dany and Jon are two of my favorite characters though. I thought I’d be all for them, but I’m having difficulty with the whole aunt/nephew thing. Yeah, I know incest is just a thing on Games, but also I have a hard time with incest. Their chemistry didn’t knock me off my seat either. I don’t know. I can still be won over, so hopefully they bring a little more heat to Winterfell next season. Ba dum ching!

I’m super nervous about what Emilia Clarke, who is an actual rainbow, said about her last scene. I’m worried Dany might skew towards a more nefarious ending. She freed all the slaves and was the breaker of chains and stuff, which was awesome. But then she kind of nuked a lot of people with her dragons, which was super cool but maybe not morally awesome? I don’t know. Not sure how much I care about morality on Games. Do we care about morality on Games? Eh. Probably not. 

I think in terms of who had the most bad ass moments in the show Dany wins hands down. I don’t want her to go all evil though. That would be so sad. 

I feel like a Stark has to get the throne. Is that wrong? Maybe that’s wrong. I’m new to all of this. Jon has both Stark blood and Dragon family (one sec) I mean Targaryen blood. He is also the rightful heir and an all around good guy. Also, he came back from the dead which makes him Game of Thrones Jesus. So yeah, I think give it to Jon. 

He could share it with Dani and raise their little incest baby together, but I feel that probably won’t happen because Games is out to hurt me.

Oh. I think Dani and Jon are gonna have a baby. YES I MUST HAVE ALL THE BABIES IN EVERY SHOW I WATCH.

Sansa is the queen of my soul. I love me some Sansa. 

Talk about a character who has come a long way. She is the Game of Thrones Thea Queen. She annoyed me so much in the beginning, but then grew into a total bad ass and I can’t get enough now. I want her to get Winterfell. Arya and Brienne can be Super Knights together and protect Winterfell forever. I just want all the ladies to hang and be buds.

Tryion should be the last standing Lannister because that would really stick it to his dad and I love that. I guess Tryion shooting his dad on the toilet with a bow also stuck it too him, but let’s just throw “last standing Lannister” on for good measure. 

The dragons are super important to me. I want Drogon to have all the things. What do dragons want? Whatever it is give it to them. Drogon, the ice dragon and the other one. Yup. Those are the names. Well I guess we gotta kill the ice dragon, but Drogon and The Other One can have all the things.

I don’t remember anymore character names. 

[concussed-to-pieces]

More! Part One

Fandom: My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Eventual Tenya Iida/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: Hello all, it's time for the first chapter of my prime indulgence! To any of my anime-inclined broskis out there, welcome aboard!

In The Shadow

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For gratuitous,canon-typical violence and facial trauma. Stay safe!]

Tenya had been informed time and again that college was slightly different from high school. He endured a few weeks of mental gymnastics when he realized that he wouldn’t have a uniform. College was different and yet...not. Certainly, no uniform to iron the night before and the ability to make your own schedule were boons. Nearly all of his ‘new’ classmates were old friends from high school which meant that he wasn't lacking in company, but many people didn’t seem to share Iida’s enthusiasm for continuing to better oneself even after the preliminary quirk training of high school! He wanted to be the best hero he could be, he wanted to make his family proud!

That was why he made the choice to attend college in the first place, with Tensei's wholehearted support behind him. He knew that any time he wanted it, he could have a job at his family’s hero agency. So why not be the best possible fit for his future job? Tenya was incredibly fortunate to have a secure career, and he took his studies very seriously.

Leona Moore wasn’t a troublemaker, though the way that she dressed had set off warning bells in Tenya’s brain. It was the pants, he decided, the overlarge cargo pants that had too many pockets. She was notoriously early for her classes, sometimes by an hour or so. Tenya admired her dedication, consistently fifteen minutes ahead of schedule himself. She always had a lollipop stick protruding from her mouth, her shoulders hunched slightly underneath the leather jacket she usually wore. She couldn’t seem to decide on whether she wanted to make herself seem larger or smaller, her clothes all slightly too big for her frame and her jokes never failing to make Kirishima snort with laughter at the worst possible times.

Her quirk made her a little touch-shy, Izuku had kindly pointed out to Tenya when Iida was confused over her standoffish behavior during their warm up period before general training. “She’s had to be pretty careful, Iida. She didn’t learn how to use her quirk until halfway through high school. Before that, she didn’t even know she had one!” Iida could only imagine how volatile the situation for that revelation must have been, seeing as she had a quirk that doubled the power of any kinetic force she withstood.

She also had control, seeming to have mastered the ability to turn it off and on at will. Tenya's misguided pity had turned into genuine admiration after watching her perform in their college sports festival. Granted, next to the explosive display of Bakugou versus Ururaka or the emotional minefield of Todoroki and Deku's battle, Leona's bout wouldn't stand out overmuch to the average viewer.

Leona had been paired up against Mineta, who made the fatal mistake of immediately pelting her with his ammunition in an attempt to incapacitate her. The kinetic energy from his rapid-fire slinging seemed to send her into overdrive, the young woman slamming an uppercut to his jaw that landed him in the lower stands. One punch, and the round was over. Iida silently approved of the way she had turned and bowed to the crowd before leaving the field. As a hero, one of many priorities would be to end fights quickly and decisively. Another one was courtesy to bystanders and officials-

...

How strange, he mused, thinking about her at a time like this. His rage continued to boil and yet…

He closed his eyes. Just for a minute. God, it was strange. Would she be proud of him? Proud of his rabid behavior? What about his family? Fear lanced through Tenya's heart, the first he had felt in ages. What if his parents lost him to this ill-advised fight? What if...what if this was the end?

The blade in his shoulder twisted sharply and Tenya bit back a sound of pain. He refused to show any more weakness to this monster, regardless of what he might endure.

“Hey, what the hell are you doin' to my class rep?!”

Tenya's eyes shot open. No. That's-

“You've got the nerve of a bull elephant if you're takin’ on ‘Genium. Who do you think you are?!”

“Run More! Get away from here!” Tenya yelled. “He’s got some kind of paralysis quirk, don't let him get close to you!”

Stain grunted, obviously a little startled by the young woman's abrupt presence. From what Tenya could see out of the corner of his eye, his classmate Leona (hero name More for reasons he had yet to discern) looked red in the face like she’d been running for a while. Her shoulders were still heaving up and down even while she raised her fists.

“You're another trainee. Interesting.” Stain remarked, almost as if he was talking to himself. “So you're also from the college. And you called him the class rep, which means he and you are in the same classes.”

“Mind like a steel trap on ya’.” Leona replied dryly. “Any other obvious insight you want to share, or can I beat the shit out of you now?”

Tenya bit back the reflexive shout of language!, shocked out of his impotent bloodlust by how brazen his classmate was being. It was an admirable strategy. Or at least, it would have been if she actually had backup.

“Another fake hero who needs to be cleansed from the planet.” Stain eased his blade out of Tenya's arm agonizingly slow.

“Thanks, but I'm plenty clean. Took a shower this mornin’ and everything. The name's More, and I'm no fake!” Leona called to Tenya then, her voice sharp with poorly-concealed worry. “How you holdin’ up, Calf Crusher?”

Tenya groaned. Her nicknames never ceased to send the class into fits. “I can't move. I'll be no help at all. He's just going to kill you. Why did you interfere?”

“You've gotta' be shittin’ me right now, Rep. Like I would just stand by and watch you get fucked? What kind of friend would that make me?” She sounded incredulous. If Tenya didn't know any better, she actually sounded a little irritated.

“One that keeps living, that's what kind!” Tenya snapped. We're barely friends! his mind added traitorously.

Leona pounded her fist into her palm and then jerked her hands up in a way oddly reminiscent of how Iida would move when he was excited. “I know who this guy is. More importantly, I know who you are and I figured out what you were up to when you picked Hosu for your internship. It's okay.” She reassured him.

You're going to die. “I'm begging you. Please leave.”

“I'm not gonna’ let you degrade yourself by beggin’ me, bud.” Leona retorted. “Second oldest son, heir to the Ingenium name, badass extraordinaire and all around decent dude, shut the fuck up and let me do what I can to make sure you can keep doing the best that you can!” She all but shouted, leaving Tenya speechless as Stain stepped over his body.

“‘More’, huh? Why, because you're always trying to be the best? Maybe because you want to protect more people. At least, that's what you would say, right?” Stain sneered, brandishing his sword.

“No way man! ‘More’ because the more the merrier when it comes to me!” She shot right back, that teasing grin firmly fixed on her face. “I may not be fast or smart like ‘Genium...hell, I'm not even all that special compared to the other people in my class, but I'm still here!” Tenya's eyes widened as she advanced on Stain, extending a hand. “I look forward to apprehending you, sir!”

“You'll be fun to kill.” Stain lashed out a second too late, Leona barely ducking his blade in time. “Another false hero, proud to wear the title and unwilling to do the damn dirty work that comes with it!”

“I feel like this is pretty dirty work right now.” She pointed out, catching his next strike with her gloved hand and grunting at the impact against the padding of her gloves. “Whew, a little harder next time and you'll take me down for sure!” She encouraged sarcastically, twisting the blade and coming close to ripping it clean out of the villain's grasp. She was so focused on his sword that the knife thrown at her arm caught her by surprise.

Stain’s speed and raw power were devastating. The blade sank deep, so deep, too deep. Tenya's brother in that hospital bed was burned into his mind, I can't feel my legs I can't feel my legs. “More!” Tenya had thought he felt helpless before, but it was now multiplied tenfold. “Damn it, I told you to run!”

“It shouldn't be too tough to keep him here until the pros arrive. I'm in for the long haul, Calf Crusher. Don't worry.” Leona said calmly, her rational words only serving to confuse the engine hero. She was built to take hits and he had never witnessed any particularly mindblowing strategies from her. Maybe he had written her off too soon. Maybe-

Stain rushed her, that deadly sword smeared red with Iida's blood. Moore jerked the knife out of her arm and used it to hastily deflect the worst of the cut from the sword away from her torso, snagging the blade under her arm instead. Stain drew another knife, this one serrated, and slashed at her face with it. One of the teeth on the knife caught the edge of her mouth and split it open nearly to her cheekbone. Leona staggered back, holding her cheek.

Stain turned up the pressure, releasing his sword momentarily in favor of cracking a fierce punch into her wounded face. Blood spattered from the impact, Stain's knuckles that sick red. “That all you got? Gimme’ more!” Moore slurred through her broken mouth, that infuriating grin still-

Oh. Tenya felt like an idiot. She was the endurance hero. She absorbed punishment like it was oxygen, a kinetic battery that could only be charged by violent outbursts. And when she decided to strike back, she doubled the output...but her body had limits, he had seen them in action during training. Midoriya had given her a kick at her request and instead of explosively discharging the extra power, she just passed out.

His heart slammed in his throat. If she pushed herself too hard, Stain wouldn't even have to do anything.

She swung at the hero killer and the doubled power of her blow threw him to slam his back into the alley wall. Stain wheezed for breath, clearly confused by the force behind her hit. “Just who the hell are you?” He panted.

“Beat me an’ maybe you'll learn.” Blood was spilling between her gritted teeth, running in a brilliant trail down her chin to drip off the bottom of her jaw. She was smiling like a fiend.

“I've never met anyone so eager to die.” Stain grimaced, rotating his shoulder and then shaking it out.

Tenya heard a strange crackling noise, almost like electricity. Midoriya rocketed over his head and bounded off the walls of the alleyway, a green missile with fist extended to crash into Stain. “Smash!” He yelled. Green energy, lightning, whatever it was it was blanketing his body. The Hero Killer was flung further back in the alley from the impact. Izuku skidded to a halt beside Moore, shaking his hand and hissing in pain. “Sorry I took so long!” He said brightly, like he hadn't just given the man responsible for killing a multitude of heroes the most thunderous of haymakers. “How you doing?”

“Take care of ‘Genium. He can't move, help him get out of here!” Leona said urgently.

Tenya refused to meet Midoriya's eyes, ashamed at how his own filled with frustrated tears. Midoriya reached for him and then went stiff. Tenya's heart fell into his stomach when he noticed the small tear in Midoriya’s glove and the blood blotting the fabric. Just enough. “Uh...I can't...move either?” Midoriya muttered slowly.

Tenya watched Leona freeze as well, her arms grinding to a halt. “Stain, your fight is with me! Leave them alone!” Tenya yelled, his voice cracking.

Further down the alleyway Stain grinned, giving his knife another lick. “I think I'd rather play with your friends. At least they landed hits on me. Unlike you. How does it feel to know that this is entirely your fault, fake hero?”

An ugly noise of agony fought free of Iida, rasping in his throat like sandpaper. It was true, wasn't it? Tensei worked so hard because Tenya believed in him, looked up to him, and the eldest Iida wanted to make his little brother proud. If Tenya hadn't been such a child, maybe…maybe his big brother wouldn't have tried so hard to rid the world of injustice. Maybe his big brother would still be able to walk. Fake hero.

And his classmates, friends, tangled up in this mess because of him! Midoriya crouched so close and yet so far away, his eyes darting around as he tried to figure out where Stain would come from. Moore, frozen in place with her back to the two of them while she was forced to face down the Hero Killer. “I'm so sorry.” Tenya breathed finally.

“Don't apologize! I should be apologizing. I should have gotten you to talk to me after what happened to your brother.” Midoriya looked tearful. “I should have said something. I just didn't want to pressure you. I'm sorry I'm a bad friend.”

Tenya was at a loss for words, losing his ability to stave off the tears streaming down his face.

Flames suddenly illuminated the whole alley, the gout of fire threatening to cook Tenya in his armor. “Next time you send your location, give a little more info.” It was Todoroki! And he was using his left side! Tenya was aghast. How many acquaintances had his blind rage dragged to this slaughter?

“Easy! I think you singed my hair!” Midoriya fussed at the icy hot hero. “That was all I had time to send!”

Stain hammered a fist into Moore's side, making the endurance hero spit out a mouthful of blood. Her arm wound up for a swing of her own, body sluggishly chugging forward like she was moving through molasses. The fact that she could move at all, though-! Was it because she absorbed the momentum from his hits? Or was Stain’s control weaker the more people it was spread across? Tenya found himself pondering the ins and outs of the man's quirk even as Stain pummeled Moore. She was defenseless, where was the honor in this?! Tenya's fingers twitched, uselessly tapping the cracked blacktop.

Todoroki drove Stain away from Moore with a combination attack, fire and ice arcing through the air as he switched rapidly. Leona slid one foot back, then the other, spitting more blood off to the side and slowly raising her arms in a defensive move. “Icy Hot, you-”

“I know. Keep my distance. Shouldn't be too difficult.” The flames on Todoroki's left side burned even brighter. “I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with my fire yet, but I can't deny its applications here.”

“How many children will throw themselves upon my blade tonight?” Stain cackled incredulously. “Bad enough that your friend in the armor didn't have the brains to run and get help just like his stupid brother, but now the rest of you feed yourselves to me!” He shook his head. “This next generation of heroes gets weaker and weaker. At least I'm lessening the workload on your professors.”

“You be quiet!” Iida shouted, fingers digging into the asphalt. “Ingenium was the model hero, the perfect example of selflessness and respect for others that a villain like you couldn’t possibly understand! I'll never forgive you for hurting my brother!” He screamed, able to move his neck now so he could look up at Stain while he issued his ultimatum. He didn't care how idiotic he must look, barely managing to wiggle his fingers while he yelled his fury at this man, this villain, this monster who had fractured his family.

“You're selfish. Dragging your friends into this fight because of your petty need for revenge. You're the furthest thing from a hero. You're a weakling.” Stain sheathed his sword, drawing two smaller knives instead and lunging at Todoroki and Moore.

“Don’t listen to him!” Midoriya said fiercely, somehow already able to move again! Was Tenya really that weak? Or was Stain’s quirk overpowering him because he had been the first one hit? “He’s just-”

“No. He's completely correct.” Tenya cut him off dully, clenching his hand into a fist. “If I hadn't been so consumed with this...if I had just been stronger, maybe…” Emotion closed his throat.

“Knock it off!” Leona yelled, startling him with the fury in her tone. “You don't need to be a fuckin’ martyr, Iida! What good does it do your brother if you get your ass killed?” Her voice was rough, words hard to understand through the injury she had sustained. “Think about how your parents will feel, and especially think about how your brother will feel! We're here to help, Rep, but you gotta’ take our hand!”

“Ingenium wouldn't give up!” Todoroki continued where she left off. “Be Ingenium! Get up and fight!”

As though a switch had been flipped, feeling surged through Tenya's arms and legs. Pins and needles so harsh it made him wince, and it was nothing compared to the pain in his limp arm, but he was up, he was up-

He staggered to his feet, splaying his stance just to stay vertical.

Stain hacked Midoriya’s leg out from beneath him after barely avoiding another Smash and then rushed Todoroki, nimbly dodging the fire and ice attacks in an attempt to bring that sword down on Todoroki's left arm, he would sever it clean at his shoulder-

Tenya felt like everything shifted to quarter-speed. Leona's fingers grasped desperately at Todoroki's shirt to try and pull him out of the way in time. She was still too slow, still sapped by the hero killer's quirk. Shoto's eyes went wide in realization, the young man attempting to recoil backwards away from the blade. Midoriya was yelling something, Todoroki's name no doubt, tears shining in his eyes.

Tenya's breathing echoed in his ears. In, out, in--

The engines in his calves came roaring to life in a glorious rush of Reciproburst! and without a thought for his own safety, Tenya was there between Todoroki and that sword. His armored knee shattered the blade before he whipped his whole body around via bicycle kick and re-aimed his leg at Stain's side. The hit made landfall accompanied by a shower of blue sparks from the heat of his engines, essentially drop-kicking the villain out of midair.

Stain was flung head over heels. Iida stumbled as his right leg gave out, clumsily dropping to one knee. His engines sputtered to a halt, shudders of pain from his calves flickering over the all-encompassing agony in his wounded arm. Fleetingly he wondered if he had ruptured something in his frenzy.

“Iid-Ingenium!” Todoroki shoved the larger man behind him and issued another burst of flame, barely warding off the rallying villain in time. “He’s fighting like a rabid animal. Be careful!”

“Give me a good kick, ‘Genium!” Leona suggested eagerly. “I'll get his ass back down to ground level so you and the others can wreck him!”

“My Reciproburst shot my engines and I don’t think a regular punch would offer you sufficient damage, I've overheated and I need more…time...” Iida paused, his eyes narrowing as a thought occurred to him. “Todoroki! Can you freeze my legs without plugging my exhausts?”

Todoroki opened his mouth to reply and Stain roared in outrage, bolting through Todoroki's flames in the distraction for another attack on the icy hot hero. Tenya and Moore moved at the same time, Tenya extending his good arm in front of Todoroki’s chest to offer him the protection of his armor while Leona rushed forward to fight Stain one on one. “You're in the way!” Stain snarled at them, leaping backwards up the icy pillars Todoroki had created.

A folding knife found its mark in Tenya's upper arm after penetrating his armor and he gritted his teeth in pain, doing his best to hold fast. “Todoroki please-!” A larger serrated knife followed the first, slamming into Tenya's forearm so hard he was forced prone. The wind was knocked out of him by his abrupt change in posture and Tenya choked for breath, still bewildered by the Hero Killer's power and tenacity.

“Iida!” Todoroki actually stopped his elemental attacks on Stain in favor of reeling back his fire-wreathed fist and whacking a heated punch into Moore's shoulder (to Tenya's dismay). Leona laughed (also to Tenya's dismay), easily accepting the blow while the air began to reek of smoldering cloth and lycra. Todoroki quickly slapped his other hand down on the burning area of her vest, extinguishing the heat before it could get out of hand.

“Just freeze my legs!” Iida yelled, startled by the fierce cry Moore let out before she lunged upwards at the retreating Stain.

A distraction, a distraction, he realized suddenly, take the punishment and double it to give us time. Please Leona!

Midoriya was back up again, limping badly. Cold ripped at the armor covering Tenya's calves, the frigid temperature almost too much to bear. This was an incredible risk he was taking, pushing on past the natural boundaries that his quirk and familial training had instilled. He hadn’t had enough time to recover naturally from his last Reciproburst. If something gave out under the strain, he would be incapable of defending himself.

It didn't matter. Tenya felt his engines choke, sputter, and then rev wildly. His left arm was useless at this point. He used his teeth to pull out the knife in his right, retching at the sour taste of old blood on the handle. Both arms were effectively unusable.

It didn't matter. He would use his legs. As long as Leona could land a hit that would get Stain off-balance enough for himself (and possibly Midoriya, but it might be presumptuous to rely on him) to capitalize on, that was all that he could ask for.

Iida stood, bending his legs at the knees as he prepared to leave the ground. Leona wisely aimed at the building directly beneath where Stain had jabbed the remaining stub of his sword in to perch, the doubled power from Todoroki's hit easily crushing the cement to instability. Thank God the buildings were long abandoned. Stain at least picked fights far away from where people would frequent, isolating his victims. A solitary, fiendish predator.

Iida crouched as low as he could, his exhausts glowing bright blue with the horsepower he was putting out. A new word came to mind.

“Recipro-” The engines in his calves stalled and keened, out of sync with one another as the ice dissolved into rivulets of moisture on the heated surface of his armor. “-extend!” He left the ground behind, a cloud of dust billowing in his wake.

If I just…

Tenya rocketed towards Stain, his eyes locked on the villain.

...use my leg…

He was vaguely aware of Midoriya out of the corner of his blurred vision, a brilliant streak of verdant green that seemed to hang in midair perpendicular to his path of upward motion.

...that's all I need…

His knee threatened to hyperextend even with his armor to brace him. Iida squinted fiercely and gritted his teeth.

...to beat this guy!

Midoriya’s fist planted in Stain's jaw the same time Iida's foot crashed into the villain's unprotected side. The impact rang in Tenya's ears, metal on cloth on skin on metal, high reverberations that sent shivers down his back.

Even after that tandem strike, the conniving villain still managed to swipe wildly at Tenya with one of his many knives. Tenya barely moved his head in time, feeling the blade just catch on the top of his dark locks. He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the fact that the three of them were now rapidly returning to the ground. Izuku started scrabbling at the wall, trying to grab a handhold.

“I will defeat you Stain!” Iida shouted passionately. “Because you are a criminal, and I am a hero!” His second kick didn't miss the free-falling villain either, cracking into Stain’s side so hard Tenya could feel the older man’s ribs collapse as they plummeted towards Todoroki and Leona in the alley far, far below.

Arms locked around Tenya's hips and Leona pushed off the wall in an abrupt redirection, moving Tenya so Todoroki could have a clear shot at the villain. How had she jumped so high, so fast?! She skidded to a stop on a pillar of ice that Shoto had made, still holding tight to Tenya’s waist. Iida shifted his weight as low as he could, trying to help so they wouldn’t go over the edge. His legs felt like gelatin, like they would fold underneath him, and he was immensely grateful for her strong hold on his armor.

Shoto's mastery of ice was intimidating enough up close and personal, but his barely-controlled flames were a sight to see. Tenya supposed it probably had to do with man's deep-seated primal terror involving fire, if he had to chalk it up to something. A massive fireball engulfed Stain, missing Midoriya by the barest of inches.

“Deku!” Leona yelled, sighing in relief when the young hero gave her a thumbs up and a wavering smile from his own slippery perch.

“Get up and keep fighting, you three! I doubt that was enough to…” Todoroki trailed off, his eyes widening in confusion. Stain had crash landed on yet another of his icy plateaus, the villain’s eyes rolled back in his skull. He looked like he had been knocked unconscious.

Is he dead?

Tenya hated the sick, joyous thrill that sang up his spine at the thought. He had been so selfish, so blinded in his fury that he believed his actions righteous. It was terrifying that he could so coldly rationalize the taking of another human being’s life, even one so horrible as the Hero Killer! He would never forgive himself if his own mistakes had urged Todoroki forward into doing the unthinkable.

Moore went limp against Tenya’s back, her relief palpable. “Icy Hot, I think we’re all going to need an assist at this point.” She slurred. “I’ve lost...a lot of blood. Head wounds, you know the drill.”

“Your mouth! Moore, are you-”

“I think he knocked out one of my teeth?” She mumbled over Tenya’s frantic question, moving to sit beside him and then carelessly dragging the flap of skin from the split side of her mouth aside (presumably so she could count her own teeth). Tenya fought a wave of nausea at her rough actions, thankful that at least the destroyed side of her face was outside his limited field of vision. His own pain and injuries he could take in stride, but someone else’s because of him was…

He didn’t care for the sensation at all.

Todoroki eased them to the ground through careful manipulation of his quirk, until finally the three heroes and one villain were safely down. Stain had indeed been knocked unconscious, but whether by the punch, kicks or outright fireball was anyone’s guess. Shoto wasted little time securing the villain with some clothesline he found in a dumpster, practically mummifying the older man with the half-frayed rope.

“We need to get him to the street. The pros and the police should be able to handle it from here.” Todoroki said calmly.

“I can drag him!” Tenya offered immediately, taken aback when Todoroki shot him an incredulous look.

“Have you forgotten about your arms, Iida? What will you drag him with?” Shoto deadpanned. Tenya deflated a little. He had almost forgotten the beating he had taken, if he was being honest. Adrenaline.

Moore’s snicker was a half-hearted gurgle at best, the endurance hero scooping Midoriya up onto her back and starting the slow limp to the street. “C’mon Calf Crusher, let’s get you home. I’m sure your pros are really worried about you guys.”

Iida trailed silently after his classmates (friends, he reminded himself), flushed with shame. Moore hung back for a second, letting him come up alongside her and Midoriya.

“Hey, you know that this isn’t your fault, right?” She murmured as best as she could. “I would have done the same thing no matter who the hero killer was going after.”

“I wish I had said something at the train station that day.” Midoriya whimpered. “I could tell that you were hurting, Iida, but I just...I didn’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

Iida shook his head dejectedly. “Don’t apologize to me, Midoriya. It’s not your responsibility to look out for my emotional wellbeing. I ought to have better control over my-”

“As your friends, it’s absolutely our responsibility! We need to pay attention to each other in this line of work, Iida!” Midoriya actually interrupted him. “You never know...you never know what could be the thing that pushes someone over their edge! You’ve always been there for the whole class since high school and the one time you needed us, we weren’t there for you!” Izuku was always so passionate about hero work, throwing himself headfirst towards any new challenge they faced. It should be no surprise to Iida that he would have a speech prepared for this situation.

So why were tears blurring his vision further? Tenya tried to no avail to wipe them away with his limp arm, ending up smearing blood across his cheek instead. Moore clicked her tongue at him (an impressive feat in and of itself due to the wounding of her oral cavity), pausing in her forward motion to dig in her pocket and tug out a red bandanna. “Never know when you’ll need a field dressing.” She shrugged, using the cloth to clumsily mop at Iida’s face. “There. That’s better. Look a little less damp.”

“I’m relatively certain that I’m the furthest thing from ‘less damp’ right now. But…” Tenya hesitated, unsure if this was overstepping a classmate or coworker boundary. “Thank you for your, er, concern. I will...do my best to rectify this grave error in judgement.” His bow was, as ever, perfect. “I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

“You don’t need to, Tenya.” Moore using his first name snapped Iida’s eyes up, the large man startled. She gave him a thumbs up and a grin that was a wince, her facial expression a little more kindly than he was used to seeing on her despite the gruesome flap of skin that hung from her cheek. “Let’s go, dude.”

“Will you pull yourself together? You’re the class rep. You're practically our mascot.” Todoroki complained, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Gratitude closed Tenya’s throat and he nodded hurriedly, trying to blink back the fresh wave of tears.

[get-rammed]

Long Dong Silver

Just gonna slap down some basic info on all my characters. It's gonna get long. Also a few retcons to previous characters. Oof yeah, it got LONG

Dakota-7 - age: 123 - class: Titan - race: Exo - height: 6′5″ - Ghost name: Cassie

Personality: Good fucking dude. He’s an incredibly happy guy. Always nice, never mad. Like seriously, he’s a genuinely good dude. Will give you the clothes off his back, and if he has none to offer, then he’d help you find some. He’s too nice though. Often is taken advantage of. Also super naive about a lot of things. Tries to see the best in even the worst of people. Which usually just ends up with him hurt. Which is why Cassie is a panicky worry wart of a Ghost.

Background: Woke up inside of a tree. Like straight up. A tree grew around his body. Took Cassie a long fucking time to get his ass out. Traveled alone for a long time before Cassie finally was able to convince him to go to the city. He’s not anyone real important. Just a mechanic that occasionally helps out Amanda. Doesn’t know much about his past life, and is told it’s better if he didn’t know. He’s okay with that. Gotta focus on the now.

Fun facts: Vex are the one enemy he CAN’T go near. His tech was built heavily off of the Vex to the point that there’s a small backdoor they can use to override him and basically puppet him around (thankfully there was very few of his model produced for this reason). He has no memory of the incident that barred him from ever going near the Vex, but he’s told he’s better off not knowing.

-He’s a good mechanic. People go to him for uh, not quite legal Sparrow mods to be equipped. Ones Amanda can’t apply as the Vanguard watches her. 

-Learned to speak the enemies language so he can chat with them and trade parts every now and again

-As gentle as this boy is, and as kind as he is, you’d think he’d be a huge sub. WRONG. He’s a hardcore dom. Very demanding and vocal. But always makes sure his partners are having a good time. Sweet boy that loves to cuddle his partners

Alexis-137 - age: will not share - class: Hunter - race: Exo - height: 6′1″ - Ghost name: Ripper

Personality: She’s quiet. Cunning. Always watching and listening. Loyal as hell. Keeps most of her personality to herself. Less people know about her the better. 

Background: A contract killer that got the option for an upgrade she couldn’t refuse. Smart, fast, and no remorse. A brutal killer that survived the Collapse. Still went after her targets, just found a few were now a little harder to kill. Easy enough when she figured out their new floating friends had to go. World may have ended, but she still keeps her word. Ripper came to her and told her what he was and then what she was. She brushed him off at all points. Gonna add a bit for Ripper here as well. He had to swallow that his Guardian was a murder. One that had no issue killing other Guardians. So long they were on her list. She only knows all this now, because she kept a journal. Knows everything about her past life. Refuses to forget every life she’s taken. It’s not fair to them. Even though she’s far nicer now than she was, actually cares for Ripper now an all that, she still kept up her business.

Fun facts: 137 is not the amount of times she’s rebooted. She’d be completely nuts if that was the case. It’s the amount of Guardians she’s silenced.

-She has never once rebooted. Fit perfectly with her new body and anything she saw, she was supposed to see. As hardcore as she is, she’s still far nicer than she was when Ripper first found her.

-Dakota is her actual son.

-A previous set of Vanguards asked Alexis to be their silencer so to speak. Someone spoke out? Shame. The current Vanguard don’t like the idea of her and told her to leave.

-She’s the reason Rook isn’t an active Guardian anymore. She was ambushed and missed her shot at his Ghost, simply wounding her instead of killing her.

-Her and Manthres have had a long history with a lot of clashes. End up getting together because they’re both old and tired.

Rook-14 - age: 289 - class: Titan - race: Exo - Height: 6′6″ - Ghost name: Kari

Personality: Kind older Exo. Tries to be everyones hot dad. Kind of keeps to himself a bit. After his Ghost was attacked he went private, too scared to talk to a lot of people. Became a little paranoid. (He’s a newer character. Still workin’ on em). Dispite his almost kind of harsh intro to most people, he’s still a huge flirt

Background: He used to be a well loved and popular trainer. He just wasn’t quiet on his opinions on the Vanguard in power at the time. Which landed him on the list. He knows someone tried to kill him, he doesn’t know who, but it worked. He survived the incident with just Kari getting hit unfortunately, and had to keep quiet. Opened a bar on the city and now gives advice if you buy a drink. 

Fun facts: Found and trained Alison. Also taught her how to swear

-Sugar daddy material. Like straight up. He fucking loves getting his babies anything they want. Adores seeing them happy

-A giving partner. Honestly just loves to go at it honestly. Nothin’ real special about it. Unless he can convince Riot or someone to join in. Then it’s more fun for him. Double dick a partner ;)

Alison-1 - age: 97 - class: Titan - race: Exo - Height: 7' - Ghost name: Ophelia

Personality: Alison is that big sister that hits you over the head and calls you a moron all the time. To be fair, you were a moron and she was just making sure you knew. It's in a loving kind of way though. Kind to those she trusts, and cautious with those she's unsure of. She can be a wee bit unapologetic and brash. She's a Titan, what do you expect. Alison is hot tempered, a little cold a times, and is far more powerful than most Guardians. With a resting bitch face and a height that towers over most, she's intimidating through and through. A little over confident. An by a little I mean A LOT. She can admit she’s not the brightest though. Much rather fight shit than talk to it. She’s quick witted and street smart though. Scan talk just about anyone out of something if she wants it. A little vain, never catch her armor being the same colour for more than a week.

Background: Alison was found and taught by Rook-14. She didn’t like to listen, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with a cocky new rez. He taught her patience and a good way to shut up the new guys. Shove them into enemy fire and wish them the best of luck. She had the opportunity to learn more about herself in the past and turned it down. With the nightmares she has of her previous life, no thanks. She was a high ranking Guardian that used to just get sent out to take out high priority targets as they knew she would get it done. But found herself being punished for going against what was asked of her. It saved her Fireteam and another one. The Vanguard appreciate what she did, but they still had to punish her. Which landed her in a training position. She found it fun. She likes training new Guardians. Makes sure they know how to hold a gun properly and protect themselves if they’re out of ammo. Guardians trained by her have a better start than most. 

Fun facts: While she doesn’t know why, but she always gets terrified when someone goes down. She knows they’ll get up, but she’s terrified that they might not one time. 

-Often has nightmares of the Vex. Ophelia assumes its part of how she died. Alison avoids Vex if possible. She also avoids sleeping, which she already has a hard time due to being an Exo. Which means she always kind of tired

-Guardians trained by her, appreciate what she’s taught them and often bring her gifts

-Often used as a bodyguard when she’s not assigned to train

-Can and will throw your ass out of harms way if you’re not listening to her. Don’t want to stop fighting that thing that is way stronger than you? TOO BAD. TUCK YOUR ARMS

-Is one of the first working Exo prototypes. As such, she often experiences issues with parts of her just not working right. Sticking or just shutting down. If the Light had been gone for more than five years, good chance Ali would have died. A fatal flaw was found in her model of Exo after her disappearance. Too soft a metal was used internally and eventually the part breaks apart and slowly tears the inside apart. Incredibly painful and slow way to die. She’s good though. So long as the Light doesn’t go out again

-As a lover she can be either sweet or vicious. Depends what's asked of her. She's a giant softie for her partner(s). Lots of gifts and a fuck ton of attention all the time, but especially after she plays rough. She adores making her partner feel amazing

Yana-9 - age: 67 - class: Warlock - race: Exo - height: 6′1″ - Ghost name:  Jenka

Personality: Over confident asshole Warlock. Smarter than you, and she’ll make sure you know it. Can admit though that she can’t fight very well, which is why she always has a bodyguard of some form with her. Flirty as hell

Background: Yana woke and knew nothing of herself, but knew she had to research something, anything. The city provided her the opportunity to study various Golden Age tech and history. They assigned her Riot. They got along well, sometimes a little too well if ya know what I mean hur hur. Then during a regular mission gone wrong, Riot dipped out to guide some Cabal away from Yana. She was knocked unconscious and couldn’t respond to Riot’s calls. She was found and taken away to safety by some passing Guardians. Yana didn’t know what happened to him for the longest time and just assumed he left her for dead. Five years after the incident Mena found Riot and forced him to apologize to Yana. First thing she did was slap him then hug him. Now they’re cool, but aren’t really quite on talk like they used to level

Fun facts: Currently poking around Mars by Ana’s request

-Fast. Like she’s stupid fast for a Warlock. Easily outrun a Hunter or her bodyguard if needed

-Once talked some Hive out of killing her. She was out of ammo and her bodyguard was down for the count. She just started yelling weird facts she knew, and they got so fucking bored they just left her

-Got her name from her Ghost saying “Yeah, nah.”. Her original name has been scratched out

Riot-4 - age: 4378 (he's a long living alien. He's a little older) - class: Titan - race: Rokin - height: 6'7" (30' in his actual form) - Ghost name: Cherry

Personality: before his incident he was over confident and a massive narcissist. Very much all about him. Gave little regard to anyone but Yana, the Guardian he was protecting. After his incident he calmed down a /lot/. He's still over confident, but now it's so he doesn't cry. He's a huge coward. He's now a "I'm depressed, have PTSD, and I want to die every second I'm alive, but at least I'm hot?" kind of person. Relatable. He's a lot sweeter now. A very giving partner. Out for their pleasure over his own. A little on the grosser side, as he constantly flirts and makes dirty jokes toward everyone. He can't turn it off at this point

Background: So like, I introduced an alien species to Destiny, because I can. The Rokin. Giant shapeshifters. He was part of a scouting crew. Come to Earth, see if it's fit to be used as a resource planet and come home. Didn't work out that way. The crew got stranded, with the remaining being Riot and Mena. She died and he got stuck by himself. He survived the collapse and just kind of lived as a drifter. He ran across a smell he knew and damn near screamed. MENAOHTHANKFUCKYOU’REALIVEOHMANIWASSOSCAREDDIDYOUKNOWSOMEWALRUSLORDSREALLYDON’TLIKEOTHERPEOPLESGHOSTS? BECAUSEBOYHOWDYTHEYTRIEDTOKILLCHERRYLIKETWICE. THEY’REKINDAMEAN. ANYCHANCEYOUWANTTOLIKEPROTECTMYASS? THANKYOUDEARMANYLOVES. He was excited when he ran across her as a Guardian to say the least. Zavala assigned him to be a bodyguard for Yana. It went well until they got separated and he assumed she was dead. He's a weenie and blended in with the Cabal instead of facing the Vanguard. For five years he had to act like a Cabal. Which meant killing and torturing Guardians. It fucked him up pretty bad. Mena found him on accident and was quick to drag him back to the city for him to explain what happened. He left out the killing of Guardians part. Only his friends know

Fun facts: Riot is a huge fucking slut. Uses sex as a coping mechanism. Keeps his body and mind busy. He always enjoyed sex, but now just does it to keep busy. Also a pretty kinky bastard. Loves the weird stuff. Kind of a huge sub, but will dom if requested. Would rather do quick and hard without learning names. But doesn’t mind slow and easy with learning about his sexual partner. Shape shifting comes in handy for when he wants to go get a good egg dicking from a Hive Knight. Fun fact. His dick is at default an ovipositor. Rokin come from eggs. He can make it anything his partner wants or needs. Unless he’s bottoming, then dicks don’t matter

-Thick as fuck southern accent. He needed to learn English, and he needed to learn it fast. Family he hid in liked western movies, and had southern accents themselves. So he adopted the accent when speaking English. Other languages he doesn’t have the southern accent, but instead mimics whatever accent he learned the language in

-Was once mated to Mena. They have two kids together, but due to a rather harsh dispute, they lost their kids and their lives. Which is how they ended up on Earth in the first place. They had a lot of time to talk about it and are a little better with one another. To where Mena will allow Riot to join in on outings with her and Dakota. Kota never minds, he likes Riot. Mena would love to have the both of them, but she’s still got some deep seeded rage against Riot that won’t allow him in that way again

-Is terrified of relationships due to a lot of the things that happened to him. He knows he’s got a lot going on mentally and emotionally, an he doesn’t want to dump that on someone else. He’s also still hurt about Mena even though it’s been well over 600 years. Which to be fair isn’t a lot to their species

-Due to the Rokin being a species the Traveler isn’t familiar with, it was unable to take their memories

-Not banned from Crucible. Mostly because Shaxx thinks he’s a giant weenie, which he is, but also because Riot won’t even step foot in a Crucible arena now

-Dis boy can cook. Took up cooking when his anxiety kept him up at night. It’s also how his friends know he had a nightmare, which he gets a lot of. If there’s a sudden large amount of food for them, well, Riot couldn’t sleep. Usually find him passed out in the kitchen somewhere. Mena drags him back to his bed and lays down on top of him. He still likes sleeping by her. Her weight and just having a living body near him, helps him sleep a lot better

-Constantly has nightmares. Can’t sleep for shit most nights. Often slinks into a friends bed to sleep next to them. He’s not weird about it. Just kind of flops down next to them. They all have blankets in their rooms now for him. Unless he goes into Alison’s bed. Then that’s just to get fucked and enjoy her aftercare

-He just really wants someone to hold him and make him feel loved tbh. He’s got a whole lot going on and can’t function right anymore

Mena-4 - age: 3897 - class: Titan - race: Rokin - height: 5' (40' in her actual form) - Ghost name: Fletcher

Personality: She got some pretty heavy retcons from the orignal post I made about her. She’s still a happy nice being. Can actually experience any emotion at any level. She doesn’t show other people much about herself outside of being nice and quiet. Keeps her on peoples good sides. Too many people have tried to cross her and she had to embarrass them in front of everyone. Sassy needy little thing. Not that anything she says you’ll understand, but it’s how she moves that tells you, you’re being taunted. That or Fletcher laughing and translating will let you know. 

Backgroud: She was sent to Earth to blend in with our top scientists to see what was being studied. She performed her task perfectly. Started chatting, well, started interacting with a guard, Dakota. Ohhhhh what a coincidence I know. They get together, and adopt a kid together. Mena goes to work and has to help one of the first gen Exos wake up. Alison. Ali, uh, didn’t wake up happy. Woke up confused and angry. Too bad her claws were designed to tear through metal, because Mena’s skin was soft. I’m saying a freshly woken Exo Alison killed Mena on accident. Lol whoops. Woke up at the bottom of a lake.To say Fletcher was surprised is an understatement. Not often your Guardian turns out to NOT be human, but instead an invading alien. Alexis had helped Fletcher look for her Guardian. She wasn’t surprised about Mena’s form. As in her journal it said her daughter in law was an alien and dumped in this lake. She was just a little surprised she had Mena’s Ghost with her. Alexis filled her in and gave her advice. She took Alexis's advice and dooted around as an Exo. On her way to the city she ran across Riot. Dragged his ass with her. Alexis introduced Mena and Dakota just to see what would happen. Dakota obviously has no memory of Mena, plus last either had seen of the other they were both Human. So Mena is just meeting some random Russian named Dakota who just happened to know the same Alexis she knew. Oh shit wait, you have a picture of your wife? Shit boy that’s me. She kept that part to herself as to not freak Dakota out. It’d be weird to know everything about someone while they know little about you. So she’s letting the relationship rebuild naturally. It’s going well

Fun facts: Mena and Dakota were married before the collapse. Obvs. It was on accident, she never meant to fall for a Human, but he was SO SWEET

-Mena was stuck learning to understand Earth languages as fast as she could so she could understand our maths and sciences, but she didn’t have time to learn how to speak any of it. Leaving her effectively mute on our planet. She’s trying to learn some now. Dakota is attempting to teach her Russian, Alison Spanish, and English from Victoria. It’s not going well. Fletcher translates when Mena speaks in her own language

-The Vanguard know of her and Riot. Know what they are. The Vanguard ask they keep it secret, as the regular people already have enough to worry about. Nothing about Mena and Riot would be a comfort to them

-BANNED FROM CRUCIBLE. She would always make bets she could do matches without dying or taking any damage. Of course when you can make your skin soft and squishy, or hard as hell, it was super easy. Shaxx caught wind and since he know what she is, he had to bring down the ban hammer. Plus she’s fucking wicked with a gun. Got a lot of complaints

-Soft girl. Like so soft. Squish squish. Just likes to get fucked. Don’t matter how. Just give it to her. Usually likes to be the power bottom, but doesn’t mind changing it up For her the more the merrier. Same goes for relationships. Her and Dakota have an open one. Could include a partner or two for sex, or to just join their relationship. They don’t mind either way

Manthres, Slayer Of Light - age: 683 (there’s no real data on Eliksni life spans sooooo) - class: variation of Titan - race: Eliksni - height: 11′ - Ghost name: Veros

Personality: Old and kind of grumpy. She’s been through a lot of shit and literally just wants to die already. Sarcastic. Grandma to literally everyone though. She hated Guardians, Human and otherwise, but ya know. Kind of had to reevaluate after Veros found her. Now she just wants all her children to come back from their missions safe. Absolutely will not take your advice. She knows what she’s doing. She’s old what do you expect

Background: This has a few changes from what I’ve said in the past. She is an Archon Priest for a long dead house found herself at the doorstep to the House of Devils. As their Priest role was filled at the time, she just got a high ranking Captain position instead. She didn’t mind. She didn’t get as much Ether, but still enough to survive in her massive form. Ran with them for years until Siva. Then her and her crew noped the fuck out. Found themselves as outcasts. They were enjoying a successful Ether grab when the Cabal attacked their ship. Everyone was dead outside of a hatchling, Xinos (who, yes I’m aware was originally spelled Zinos. I straight up DO NOT KNOW how I fucked that up. But at this point it’s just going to stay Xinos), and Manthres herself. She laid dying and she was so thankful. Finally her pain would go away. Lol nah dude. Howdy I’m your Ghost, let me just heal ya real quick. Veros convinced her to go the city and meet her new leaders. She begrudgingly agreed. Everyone stepped out of her way when she showed up. Everyone stared. Not every day an Eliksni Guardian shows up. Even less so when one is as big or well known as Manthres is. Needless to say her reception wasn’t a warm one. Even from Zavala who was informed he was her Vanguard as she was a variation of Titan. Everyone is a lot kinder to her now, but that still doesn’t change what she’s done. Which is why she asked to stay dead after she dies. She doesn’t want to forget her life or those she’s killed. That’s not fair to the lost lives

Fun facts: She had to drop the ‘Slayer Of Light’ part of her name for obvious reasons. She earned it in the first place from a dying Guardian that was sent in a Fireteam to kill her. The information on her was blurry. No one knew she was THAT big until she showed up at the Tower. Only one to meet Manthres and survive is Alexis

-She has slaughtered hundreds of Guardians without caring to learn their names. But we do the same to her kind in the thousands. Who between the two of us is really the bigger threat?

-Riot taught her how to bake cookies. They’re not the best but they’re not ass either. She likes to make them for her Fireteams. Likes to give them out after missions for a mission well done

-Has gone on raids. But only to the Leviathan as Calus is kind enough to allow her to watch and still get free shit. Mostly because his tailors need time to measure and make her armor. Gives them something exciting to do. NEW BODY SHAPE OH HELL YEAH. But also because she is a rarity upon his ship

-Not a fan of how people are now pushing her to stay back in the city. She understands they don’t want her to die, but she has to someday. She’d rather die in the field than among the penned cattle

Victoria-1 - age: 3 - class: Hunter - race: Exo - height: 5′5″ - Ghost name: Axel

Personality: She is an incredibly new rez. Still in the “I’m going to do everything because I can’t die.” phase. Little firecracker. Hyper as shit. Likes to stick things in her mouth (thankfully she has Teren now so shE’LL STOP THAT SHIT). Kind of ditzy. She never cared much for learning. Not when she can snoop around to find neat shit and stab people

Background: Woke up on Venus and touched everything. Poor Axel. He wanted a Guardian that explored, and he got one, but he’d have liked getting one that would stop trying to fucking go places she can’t be. The Vanguard gave up on even trying to get her to do the missions they want her to do. She never does them, and when she does she half asses them. They let her do her own thing until she mellows out

Fun facts: Met Teren on the Leviathan. Asked him for a tour and sucked his dick in the Underbelly. They’ve been happily together ever since. She often calls him Sweet T

-Alison trained her. They often talk still. Mostly Victoria just blowing up Alis phone with pictures and texts of what she did for the day. Ali doesn’t mind. She thinks it’s cute

-Can see and react to things really well, but is actually pretty deaf. Neither her nor Axel know why, and looking for the right part to fix her isn’t going well. It’s a small piece that’s super delicate to the point no one bothers to scavenge for them. No one minds speaking up for her. If she can’t quite hear them, she watches lips, if that’s not an option, then Axel just morse codes it at her in flashes. It’s the best she’s got

[the-erickson-labrynthian]

Death, by Brandon Erickson

Another short story I wrote recently about the final moments between two close friends before one succumbs to his wounds. This one’s a bit longer than the last one, I apologize in advanced for mobile because I know sometimes the ‘keep reading’ doesn’t show up and this is over 4000 words XD. Forgive me for my transgressions, please, I just didn’t wanna separate it into parts, ruins the tone.I hope you enjoy, if you like my writing or my style be sure to check out more of my blog, or check out my commissions, they’re pretty coolio to the moolio. And uh, yeah. Enjoy. Be sure to tell me what you think.

Death, by Brandon Erickson (Word Count: 4424):

The two boys were struggling to keep forward as the small crowd chased behind them. They were far back, but making headway, tumbling towards the pair at breakneck speeds for the social reward of bring their bodies back to the Duke. Dead or alive, because they were only special for their opposition, nothing more. Certainly why, of course, the Duke felt no discouragement from attacking one of the pair right where they stood, in the middle of their diatribes of peace and honesty and justice, and why of course he felt no apprehension towards making the attack as strong and piercing as he did, a little beam, struck like a bolt with deep seeded fangs into the chest. A familiar light and beam, to one of them. And after it struck and they got to their feet running, once again the Duke had no quarrel with sending his troops to finish the rest, end it all, bring back corpses.

Cyrus did his best to hold tight to his friend and push him forward, but the damage had left Dutch limping, and screaming, with his face morphing through a thousand expressions a minute as a flurry of feelings circled around him.

“Urgh,” He gritted his teeth but the anguish pushed through, “This is very painful.”

Dutch could crack a joke at his own expense, but Cyrus couldn’t stop thinking ahead, looking all around in desperation for something hide in but seeing nothing but an expanse of silent buildings and grey empty streets. They twisted and turned as best as they could to confuse their pursuers, but each time they had to even tilt a direction other than forward another sharp yell would come from Dutch.

“I’m just incredibl-ahrg-crediby surprised by how much ehhhh” He groaned, “Pain I’m in.”

Cyrus couldn’t avoid speaking in a whimper as his mind worked on a plan, “Stop talking, you’ll make it worse.”

“Oh… breathing makes it worse. I… think being, ehr, makes it worse.”

“A few more turns and then maybe we’ll lose ‘em.”

From the hollering echoing throughout the streets, that seemed like a lie. But, into another alleyway that almost turned into a dead-end—a near fatal mistake—Cyrus spotted that what he thought was a wall was really a large gate, a fence with green metal behind it that covered the other side. No barbed wire. Mistake turned miracle. Could go to the other side and hide. He turned Dutch towards the fence and flinched at the painful response. Dutch’s expression worsened as he saw it.

“Oh no… we’re not-”

“They might not see us behind it. Think you could climb up it?”

He laughed, “Uhhh, I… can climb it. I don’t what I’ll be like once I’m down it, though.” “Easily our best shot. I can help you up. C’mon.”

Cyrus hurried Dutch over and bent down, letting Dutch step up his back to grab the top of the fence. Cyrus then held onto his feet until he pulled himself to the top, before jumping up and grabbing the top himself, lifting up and over before Dutch could lose his balance and fall to the ground. Once he was on the other side he reached his arms out towards Dutch.

“I got you.”

“Hehe, I would have my doubts, but I don’t have a… ehhh,” He leaned over and fell into Cyrus’ arms before finishing his thought.

Cyrus held onto him and looked around. Standard walls of slimed grey like the other side of the fence, though behind them was a rusted door that was so evenly split between blue and burnt brown one couldn’t tell which color came first. The door was partially opened, but he could barely see what was inside.

“C’mon… we can go inside and get you lying down. Maybe then I can figure out how to help you.”

Dutch laughed at the notion, but Cyrus had no idea why. The two carefully went over to the open door and Cyrus moved it open as slow as he could, though that didn’t stop the creaks from being any less screeching. They stepped inside carefully, Cyrus eyeing everything he could to see if it was safe while Dutch barely looked at anything, continuing his small exclamations of pain in a softer tone. From his estimation, Cyrus couldn’t see that anyone was here, or had been in here, for a long time.

As he got his bearings, he realized it wasn’t anything abnormal at all, just a few empty rooms with standard wooden walls. A house. A real one, too. Nothing was in it, though. Not in this room they first entered, which from the ripped apart carpeting below appeared to be the living area. Cyrus took Dutch to the far corner of this room and carefully let go of him, telling him to lay down and rest while he found a light switch. Dutch obliged and slowly sunk down onto the carpet, feeling at the texture of the small and tightly woven strands that were like bristles. Cyrus rubbed his hands all along the walls, but nothing rubbed back except for cold and faint dust that he wiped against his pants, until the fourth wall yielding a small sliding switch. He moved it up and down and looked up to the ceiling. Nothing. Not even a hum or a spark. Time did that to things.

He went back over to Dutch and starting rubbing his hands together, “Okay, I was gonna save a bit of my energy, but it would be nice to be able to see a bit, so…” He held his hands outwards with his fingers extended and spaced out, trembling as he darted his eyes between the two of them, his pupils enlarging until a faint glow emitted from the distance in between the hands, a softer caramel light that was easier on the eyes. He clenched his fist and the light released from its prisionment and circled about until he moved his hands and guided it to the ground beside them. He let out relieving sigh as his shakiness left him, then got down on his knees and observed his friend.

“How are you holding up?”

“Constant pain, but now that I’m not moving as much, it’s muddled down. Hurts to talk, but I like talking, so I guess I’ll deal with that.”

“Where’s the pain coming from? If I know the source I might be able to discern the spell, and maybe then fix it. Is it here?” He applied a small amount of force onto Dutch’s side.

“No, that feels nice, a little. Touching me doesn’t make it worse. And… the pain is everywhere.”

“What do you mean, everywhere? It can’t be everywhere.”

Dutch laughed, “Pain spells have that tendency.”

“Even then there’s a source. Something. And it wouldn’t hurt to move if it was just neurological, right? Those spells just simulate pain, they don’t cause real damage.”

“They don’t… yeah, but that’s because this isn’t a pain spell.”

“Urg,” He rubbed his hands against his cheeks, “It’s gotta be something else then. Some internal hemorrhaging. That’s ridiculously powerful to be so precise like that… but then again… there’d still be a source.”

Dutch watched his friend get up and pace about the room—like he always did—trying to work out some solution. Every problem is fixable to some people. Can’t see what’s right in front of them, or they’d lose the only grip or power on reality they have. He chuckled a bit.

“Please don’t try to lighten the mood. This is serious.”

“There wouldn’t be a need to lighten the mood if it wasn’t serious.”

Cyrus dug his face into his hands, “We could be found out in any moment. We need to get help back at one of the stables or something, but you’re in no shape to keep moving, clearly. Unless, you could-”

“No. It’s pretty bad. I doubt I could get up without going into hysterics again. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. We’ll have to work with what we’ve got. Maybe I don’t have my book on me, but I can figure something out nevertheless. I knew I should’ve kept my bag with me.”

“The book isn’t a miracle worker, Cyrus.”

“Went from healing a cut to healing a severed arm reading it. I’d be better right now. Better equipped to get out. But I had… I had to leave it.”

“Stop whining, you don’t have it. Doesn’t matter anyways. That was just healing an arm.”

Cyrus circled about in frustration, his hands fidgeting around while he thought. Dutch felt the small pressure of pain increase, yet this time he made no sound. Maybe he built up a tolerance fast, he thought. If only he could build a tolerance to the damage, too.

Before he held onto that thought long Cyrus was already back by his feet and patting around his body, “Please give me anything your feeling, I need to know if there’s any weak spot.”

“I just feel pain, everyone. No part is worse. But, pressure feels good.”

“I’m sure there’s somewhere on you, maybe where he hit you, your chest?” Cyrus pushed into Dutch’s chest and Dutch let out little more than the slightest of moans from the intensity of the force subsiding the feeling of pain, even if for a moment. “Nothing?” He asked.

“Nothing wrong. You’re trying hard but I’m telling you it’s just constant. I just… am feeling pain.”

“What… just feeling pain? Like… it’s… just infecting your consciousness?”

“Like it’s… becoming a part of me. My existence just feels like its pain. I don’t how to describe the feeling, but it’s like every possible action is tied to pain. Breathing, talking, thinking, just the act of existing is bring me pain.”

“That sounds unbearable.”

“I’m used to unbearable things…” He chuckled.

Cyrus let out a huff, “But, there’s no spell I’ve ever heard of that does that. It makes no sense. Just pain? I could just kill the pain, then, if there’s nothing being damaged. Just… a painkiller trick, simple,” He started rubbing his hands together again.

“I told you,” He couldn’t help but laugh, “There’s nothing you’re gonna be able to do about this. Nothing you can heal.”

Cyrus grabbed at his head, “You’re making no sense! You act like you know what’s happening-”

Dutch let out a few coughs, “I do. I know exactly what’s happening. I knew it the second the spell hit me.”

Cyrus’ expression widened and he resisted hitting his friend, “What do you mean you already knew? You knew the whole time what was wrong with you and you never gave me a word? You just let yourself get worse and made it impossible for me to help you?”

“Well, you couldn’t.”

He held back in a scream in his anger, “What do you mean? What spell was it?”

“Cochlea Mortem.”

Suddenly his confusion made Cyrus speak in the same whisper as his friend, “What?”

“Cochlea Mortem. Or for the French it was La Mort de L’Escargot. Death of the snail. Snail’s Death. Funny wording, makes it sound like I’m the snail. Snail’s are pretty nice, I guess.”

“Snail’s Death? That spell… what? I heard about it once in old books, but people basically thought it was just fear mongering from dark mages to scare people. It was an old myth! From like… hundreds of years ago.”

“Myths because those people are dead. Most people are dead when they hear of it. Only way to know about it is to see it. And… I’ve seen it.”

“I’ve barely ever heard of it. Never seen it. How could you have seen it?”

“I knew you wouldn’t have seen it. Soldiers see. Bookworms learn. Usually that comes in handy, but not with death. Books don’t really do much for dead people. Can help dispose of them properly, though.”

“It can’t be that, though, right? You’re not… dying?”

“Cochlea Mortem is exactly what it sounds like. It’s slow. You couldn’t see it. Only I can feel it.”

“How? You’re not cut. Damaged. Anything?”

“Funny, I feel pretty cut. It looked the same back then, but it was a good ten years ago when I was just little more than a scout, I saw this much older man dealing with it. A lot like me, he kept talking. But, soon it was hard. He described it like a man… going through a house, turning off every appliance as he goes through. A slow shutdown of everything you are… on a consciousness level… until you’re nothing. Like… boiling your spirit into vapor. I feel it now.”

“Feel what?”

“Like I’m draining away, drop by drop.”

“Well… okay, maybe you have this Snail’s Death, I’m sure I can heal it. There’s gotta be a cure.”

Dutch let out a small sigh, “You said you heard of it. No one talks about it without mentioning that there’s no cure.”

“A hundred years ago there wasn’t a cure for petrification. We learn. We get better. I can do this. I’ll be the first one to do it.”

“Go ahead. Do something. I’m not going anywhere. Not sure if I can feel my legs at this point or not. I can wiggle my toes, but… I feel like if I stood on them, I’d phase right through my own legs.”

Cyrus stood up, “Of course I’ll try. You need me to, even if you won’t admit it.”

He rubbed his hands together for a minute, his eyes closed and visualizing as he did. There began to be a vacuum like feeling in the room, like thoughts were being ripped right out of the air to fuel his hands. Dutch found it hard to think, and his feelings were being pulled from him. At least it took the pain, too. Everything as Cyrus worked with his face clenched tight in focus. After another moment he stopped rubbing and moved his hands outwards once more, opening his eyes. His body trembled this time, with his legs shimmying weakly and his head twitching about. Like before, his pupils grew, and of course with so much power this time they grew to consume his whole eyes, this pure black that Dutch almost got lost in looking at. From his hands there began to emit a forest green like glow, but this glow also seemed to come from his head, like it leaked from his ears. Dutch had no clue what he was doing at this point, that kind of magic was never his thing.

Without warning the glow on his hands turned blue and he flicked them towards Dutch to pass the light over. Dutch closed his eyes in a wince of fear, but after a moment of no feeling he opened them to see nothing. The magic did nothing at all, like it went through him. He looked up at Cyrus to see his eyes still engrossed, yet sad. Next thing he knew all the energy in the room dropped and Cyrus’ head fell forward as he let go. He tilted his head back upwards at Dutch and walked over to him.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Of course. Not even putting all of my energy into thinking helped me come up with the right spell. I’m too weak.”

“You’re not weak. I told you, there’s nothing to be done. I just get to sit here and watch it all fall away.”

“I wish I could be better for you. It’s not fair.”

“I spent forever wishing I could better for you. That’s just how life is. But, you don’t have to keep wasting your energy on helping me. Just sit here. I’d feel a lot better if you would just be here and talk with me.”

“Really?”

“All that magic will get someone to find us anyways, and you’ve gotta get out of here soon.”

“We’ve got to head back soon. Escape and tell the others about his attack on Eastwick.”

“Yeah… we do. But… I need to lie down here for a while. Just sit with me. Please?”

Cyrus looked into the eyes of his long faithful companion, and they pleaded at him. Pleaded for comfort and warmth. Pleaded to sit with the person they love most.

“I’ll sit here with you. As long as you need me to.”

“Cool,” He chuckled.

Cyrus patted his hand against his friends stomach, feeling as it rose and fell with his breath, “Well, how are you feeling now?”

“Better, but lesser. Things can get better before they get worse. Everyone always says like a calm before the second half of the storm. In some ways that makes the oncoming pain not seem as bad, but in other ways it makes it seem worse, like I won’t be as ready for it.”

“If you wanted me to, I could try easing the pain a bit.”

He shook his head slightly, “No, I can handle it. You’ll need all the energy you can muster to get out of here. Just keep your hand right there. It feels better. Right. I think it might always have belonged there. You are like the whole troops caretaker. But… always me more.”

“Yeah.”

“I was always a rambunctious little shit.”

“Yeah.”

“The fact that I didn’t get my head lopped off years ago is probably a stroke of luck. More the debt to the universe piles up, though, the more that luck runs dry and you’ve got nothing to protect you. Nothing more than a loving friend.”

Cyrus said nothing, he examined every inch of Dutch’s body, still studying, wondering.

“From down here, you look so much more powerful. I used to think I was the stronger one. The brash and bold. But… strength, eh. Not much at the face of demise. You were the real fittest to survive. The smaller target. The larger mind.”

“You do a wonderful job.”

“Eh, I did my best. Better than a lot of sick and misguided people. Worse than a lot of beautiful and good people. Alright enough to not feel guilty. In that sense, at least.”

Dutch kept his gaze mostly at the ceiling, but every now and then he would move his eyes to Cyrus and stare for a moment before they went back forward. He never tilted his head.

“I’ve seen a lot of death. Lots of it in books and stuff, too. Death is a lot like an evolving myth, itself. Everyone spreads these stories about what it is like, these guesses and such. Even people who almost died try to tell people how it feels and spread this story. But… do any of them really know? I mean, could any of them really know unless they truly died? Death doesn’t happen until the brain is dead. Gone. Mush. No one can come back from that, either. So, no one knows. Nothing but what they feel beforehand. And on that,” He let out a small cough, “On that, I hear nothing but people saying that they feel��� content. More and more so the closer that they get to the edge. That’s funny.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel it,” He started tearing up, his words turning into whimpers, “I’m just sad. I don’t want to die.”

Cyrus hung his head low, “We can figure this out. Stop worrying.”

“But… I can’t move my body anymore. It’s just… gone.”

“It’s right here. Feel my hand. That’s your stomach.”

“I feel your hand, but nothing’s there. It touches nothing. The body’s drained away.”

Cyrus darted his vision away and tried not to tear up as well.

“Normal death is a lot like this, too, just faster. If you think about it, from all I’ve seen, death does this thing where it takes away every piece of you. With this stuff, this spell, it’s like these little bits that make up who I am are being shaved off, they’re falling though. And when the last bit is gone, I’m out of time. It remind me of. Of a… of. Of. An…” He closed his eyes, settling his thoughts, “An hourglass. Yeah, that. A hourglass, where the sand slowly pours from the top to the bottom. From life to death. Grain by grain. I’m… I’m those. Those grains. And every bit is taking its time, but soon it’ll all be out, and I’ll be gone.”

“Stop talking like that. You can still try to hold on. You can still try to grab onto yourself and persevere. It’s just determination, right? People put there hands in fire and feel nothing because of their determination. You can push through it all, if you try.”

“Trying hurts. Being hurts. The spell actively is pushing for me to stop being. Designed to make me… stop.”

“Don’t let it get to you. You can fight if you just don’t quit. Open your eyes.”

“No… I don’t need to. It would hurt too much. I can still see you. Right inside here, inside my head. I always see you when I close my eyes, whether I want to or not. Heheh,” He snickered.

“Dutch…”

“Oh, don’t worry. Most of the time it’s good that I see you. Sometimes you can be a real nagging Nelly like right now, but hey, I get it. I’m stupid. I deserve it most of the time. I know you’re just trying to make things better. Tryin’… to… make. Make things seem less. Less bad than they are. They’re pretty bad, and that can be scary.”

“I’m here for you,” He moved his head close to his friend’s.

“And I know that you’re sad. Very. Very… sad. I know. I’m sad too. Crying my eyes out…”

“You stopped crying already, Dutch.”

Dutch continued talking, “But… I guess in a little way I’m lucky, I won’t have to deal with being sad much longer, best case scenario. If not, then there’s no way of stopping it anyways. Knowing me I’d deserve it. But. But, uh. But… oh, I was saying… I know that even if I get to escape being sad, that you’re gonna have to deal with it. You’re gonna have to be sad when. When I’m gone. Yeah. That sucks. I’m sorry. I know that’s why you’re trying to hurt.”

“Help.”

“Yeah. Help.”

Cyrus bent over and wrapped around Dutch, hugging him tightly, “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be better.”

“Oh. Oh shush. It was all me. Me and my ego, screaming at that jerk like I was gonna change his mind. I should’ve been more prepared. We know his power. But… shoulda… shoulda… coulda.. Buddha. All in the past now. You can go past all this. You can be happy even after I’m gone. You’re a smart, cute guy who's gonna change the world for the better. I know that.”

“I don’t know what I would do, without you.”

“Anything and everything. You’re divine. I’m a bitch. Simple math, I’m a thorn in your side. You’re a rose bud. Pretty little thing, with this radiance. An authority. A… right to be better than all of us. You’re so much better than me.”

“You were everything I wasn’t…”

“And that’s a good thing. I mean… look at me. I’m dying. Almost there, too, I think. While I still have any feeling left, you should be holding me.”

Cyrus winced and hugged tighter.

“I would say you can kiss me, but my lips… I don’t know if there still feeling. Shame. Your lips are pretty nice,” He chuckled, “Sorry again for making jokes. So easy when you’ve got nothing else to do with the rest of your life.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s weird, I feel, the order in which all my parts are. All my pieces are. My gears are… stopping. The order. It’s weird. Like, what determines it? Is it random? What is the last grain to drip from the hourglass? Is it me, that last grain, or am I everything? I… even if I could come back, I know everything else would be gone. Might mean I’m a husk of my former self. I mean, no good as a fighter if my body doesn’t work. If I can’t stand on my own two feet. Feel the grass. The breeze. The warmth of another. These things, I think. These things, I think, are a part of me, too. But I still feel like I’m here, also. I’m still here. So… maybe? Maybe the last grain is the most of who I am… maybe. Maybe the other grains are just tools to help my one grain experience the world. But why does that grain fall last? To give me time? Is Cochlea Mortem secretly a blessing? Death is awful… but… how many deaths guarantee a final testimony? As long as someone is here to listen.”

“I’m always here to listen.”

Dutch’s head bean tilting to the right, slightly, slowing falling towards the floor.

Cyrus tried to feel his friend as best as he could, hold on to every second that remained. “You’re smarter than anyone ever gave you credit for,” He said.

There wasn’t a response. Just the rise and fall of his breath that had been growing more dull as the conversation carried on. Cyrus shook his friend gently to no avail. “Dutch?”

After another few moments of silence Dutch chuckled, “I see. Playing quiet with me now, huh.”

“I’m right here, Dutch.”

“Don’t worry, I get it. It’s getting sad, hard for ya to come up with ann word. I’m gutting cloos new, I thn.”

“What?”

He started slurring his words more, “Bu, you dun ned ta be sad, Cyren.”

Cyrus moved over to his friend’s face and slapped the side of it, “C’mon, Dutch, don’t do this to me. Please...”

“I wan yu ta new smm, cyr… I stul loo ya.”

Cyrus’ breathing became sporadic as he leaned close to Dutch’s ear and desperately spoke in a hushed whimper, “I love you, Dutch. And even after all these months, I forgive you. I always forgave you, you stupid try-hard. Please hear that. You don’t need to respond, but please hear that.”

Dutch let nothing else out but faint grumbles and groans as his breathing slowed down until he his didn’t rise at all and all the subtle movement of his body winded down to nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

Everything seemed to stop, like a final little leaf that floats to the dirt and leaves the tree barren. Cyrus held close to his friend and hugged him tight, but his friend was gone.

[delctrl-archive]

*MUSIC SYMBOL THO*

♫ – five times my muse swears it’s nota date and the one time it maybe is.— @sycophanticvisionary​

1. CINEMA

      “Just pick one.”

      “I don’t know? I’m still thinking.”

      “Look, it’s not that hard. You’re over-complicating it.”

       “I’m just not sure.”

      “Ryan, if you don’t choose, I’m going to choose for you.”

      “All right, all right, gimme a minute, will you?!”

Easy for Joe to say; these are his selections. After process of elimination, the remaining films limit two in the same genre: Goodfellas or The Godfather III. Why is he not surprised this is something Joe likes? Ryan’s never been into gangster movies himself—someone has to force him to watch the first Godfather actually—so maybe he’s stalling on purpose, even though the line behind him is getting antsy.

      “Sir, you need to make your choice soon. You’re holding up the line,” the box office clerk wheedles impatiently.

He wants to reject both options, if only because Ryan really wants to see Total Recall, but Joe isn’t a Schwarzenegger fan [how is that even possible? He’s amazing as Conan the barbarian]. Part of him wants to see Edward Scissorhands because that’s a unique concept and Nightmare Before Christmas is bizarre in a good way, even if as a kid Ryan finds it scary. But whatever, he has to decide, otherwise not only will people be pissed, Joe will probably walk out on him.

      “Two for The Godfather.” It takes all his willpower not to sigh.

Glancing at Joe, the small smile on his lips tells Ryan he chooses well. That makes him smile in turn as they head to the snack bar.

      “What do you want to eat?” he hears Joe ask, though he shrugs.

      “You decide. I’m pretty cheap.”

Joe doesn’t argue, just orders them a combo popcorn and fishes for his wallet. It occurs to Ryan that Joe’s paying for everything and that makes his face hot with embarrassment. Does that mean—?

      “Is this a date?” Ryan blurts.

It stills Joe from handing over a twenty-dollar bill, his eyes slowly sliding towards Ryan. Ryan swallows nervously, staring back with what he doesn’t realize is anticipated hope.

      “No.”

Joe turns away to gather napkins as Ryan stands, deflated, watching. He doesn’t enjoy the movie as much as Joe does.

2. BOWLING ALLEY

Ryan’s probably never laughed as much as he had since getting out of prison, but witnessing someone as tall as Joe MacMillan try to toss a giant heavy ball down a laminated aisle and miss is ridiculously priceless. More than likely Joe doesn’t appreciate being the butt of the joke, but can’t say he doesn’t laugh either whenever Ryan misses a strike out—which isn’t a lot. He practically grows up on this game thanks to his dad’s company team. Ryan knows how to roll a ball before he knows keystrokes.

So, yes, it’s a little unfair he asks Joe to verse him, knowing the advantage he has, but it feels nice to be good at something again, especially against Joe MacMillan, a man who is seemly flawless at what he puts his mind to, regardless of skill level. [Ryan has seen the man’s code, and while it’s like looking at the aftermath of a wild keg party, there’s still some gold nuggets that can make a decent brewery. He may never be great at it, but he’s not unteachable.] When they decide to pause in Joe’s losing streak—he laughs again at the typical-wounded-ego pout on his face—they stop for a pizza break. Ryan carries a tray over with their huge slices and styrofoam soda cups; the one with the hot-pink crazy-straw indicates Ryan’s Dr. Pepper and the cup with lots of ice is Joe’s Coke. The fries they split. Ryan dunks his in too much ketchup, makes a mess of his shirt, and Joe just looks at him with fond exasperation when he gets more napkins.

      “Do you still think you’re capable of beating me?” Ryan taunts through a grin and half a mouthful of pizza. “I mean, I gotta admit, you got spunk. Don’t think that’s good enough though.”

Joe scoffs goodnaturedly. “You’re sure of yourself. Don’t get cocky, Ryan—”

      “Too late!”

      “―You might be surprised. I could suddenly win this and you wouldn’t even see it coming.” Joe’s steady, self-assured voice causes doubt in any other situation but this one. Ryan’s heard it a few times when they’ve spent hours and days looking for something before finding NSFNet. That tone marks the man’s determination as well as an ace hidden up his sleeve.

Not that Ryan heeds it. There’s no way Joe can turn this around in time. There’s a little over thirty minutes of the game left and Ryan’s ahead by twenty-two. He stuffs the rest of his cheese pizza in his mouth, devours it, and slurps down more Dr. Pepper, shaking his head. “That doesn’t scare me, Joe. You’re all talk.” Ryan smirks. “C’mon, prove it.”

He’s not exactly prepared for that look Joe gives. Like he’s said the wrong thing, or maybe the right thing, to put that fire in his gaze; the way he stands so abruptly just screams You’ll regret that. Ryan watches a little dumbfounded as Joe steps into the little sitting area, food forgotten, then takes a minute to peruse particular bowling balls. He ends up choosing a shiny black one, as if it’s an enlarged 8-ball. It’s a surprise when Joe walks up, stands perfectly still, but suddenly executes a perfect throw with just the right amount of leverage and twist that sends the ball gliding across the lane, knocking down the white pins forming a Greek Church. 

For a dumb moment, Ryan has the impression of pillars of an old god’s temple being destroyed by Joe MacMillan: a cannon ball come to wreck a false way of life.

The next half hour plays out similarly. Joe keeps nailing his shots over and over until he’s caught up to Ryan, who hasn’t said a word to joke or laugh at Joe’s expense. He realizes how easily he’s been played, that Joe is going easy on him earlier, and that miffs him the slightest bit. But in the end it’s Ryan who wins; as good as Joe apparently is at bowling, Ryan’s better.

       “That was fun,” Joe announces on the drive home. “We should do it again sometime.”

       “Yeah, sure,” Ryan answers, distracted, with his attention out of the window. He may still be a little bitter at how Joe played him. So he isn’t expecting the hand on his arm that gains his attention on the man driving instead.

       “Hey, you okay?”

The concern in Joe’s words melt whatever ire builds. Coupled with that glance of caring worry behind horn-rimmed glasses, Ryan simply smiles and shrugs it off. “Yeah, I’m good, I’m good. We’re good.”

Joe smiles, small and delicate, and nods. “Good. Let’s play again sometime,” he encourages.

       “It’s a date,” Ryan agrees mindlessly. 

Joe’s smile doesn’t waver, but his eyes close off. He looks back at the road ahead, stepping on the pedal once the light turns green.

3. PARTY

Ryan’s two hours deep in Mortal Kombat, the joystick of his Nintendo 64 in danger of snapping from how vigorously he jerks it left and right, but he can’t care about that now, so close to K.O.-ing a FATALITY on Rain’s flamboyant, Japanese-purple-poncho, black death mask wearing ass. Ryan didn’t unlock Smoke as a character just to have him look pretty with his long white hair and mysticism. He’s been glued to the console ever since he buys it for himself as an early birthday present. Not even his brand new Microsoft PC has steered him from fighting fictional assassins and ninjas designed by America’s greatest video game developers. 

It’s Joe’s fault anyway.

“Fault” as if Ryan’s mad—hardly. The day Joe hands this gem over in neat red wrapping paper, Ryan swears he falls in love. After replaying [and beating] Super Mario five times, he’s in need of something new; Joe delivers.

Speaking of Joe, a shrill ringing interrupts his gameplay in time for Smoke to land the finishing blow. “Yes!” Ryan praises, leaping up with arms shooting high the same moment Smoke does a victory taunt. Adrenaline plants a wide grin on his lips and he pats the wall for his phone blindly, but eventually grasps it. “Hello?” he breathes, not quite over his excitement.

       “Ryan? It’s Joe.”

        “Joe? Hey, man, perfect timing! I just killed it on Mortal Kombat!”

        “Mortal Kombat?” Joe is genuinely confused. Figures.

       “Yeah, Mortal Kombat, it’s that game you bought me a few weeks ago. For my birthday,” he tacks on just in case he really has forgotten.

       “Right, I remember. I’m glad to know you’re liking it so much. Listen, can you do me a favor? I wouldn’t ask if I had somebody else, but—”

       “What is it, Joe? It’s not like you to stall.”

There’s a pause, and Ryan imagines Joe’s debating telling him never mind and hanging up, but he’s happy he doesn’t. “There’s this thing I have to go to for Gordon. Business party. A lot of investors will be there—I need someone to come with me.”

       “Like a date?”

       “No, nothing like that. It looks bad if I go alone.” Joe is too quick to dismiss the idea, but what else is new. It no longer hurts Ryan’s feelings.

But he does chuckle to hide his scoff. “You don’t think showing up with a guy will look bad?” Ryan points out incredulously. He realizes how bad that sounds though. “Not that I have a problem with it, just—”

       “Will you go with me or not?” Joe demands sharply, his voice like a cold knife.

       “Sure, yeah, yeah, I’ll go. Sure. Look, I’m sorry if I—”

       “Great. I’ll pick you up a six o’clock. Wear something nice.”

The line goes dead. Ryan feels like shit for putting his foot in his mouth and he knows he’s going to make it up to Joe somehow. Over the years the guy’s gotten a little more sensitive about his sexuality, the AIDS epidemic startling him into awareness and caution. Of course Joe’s never taken lightly to cracks about the gay community. Sometimes he can be downright vicious defending it.

Before Ryan has long to mope about his carelessness, he checks the clock. It’s four minutes from 5:00 PM and Joe doesn’t live far. Whatever remorse Ryan feels gets replaced by panicked annoyance at classic Joe MacMillan expecting him to break his neck getting ready in a small window of time. Ryan flicks off his television, then hops over his couch to rush down the hall towards his bedroom, shirking clothes as he goes.

He’s proud of himself when he opens the door to Joe exactly at 6:00, dressed in a starch white button-up, open maroon blazer, and black slacks. The contrast of deep red truly makes his skin glow copper. The way Joe looks him up and down slowly only adds to Ryan’s conceit. It doesn’t even diminish when Joe reaches forward to fix his black bowtie before half-smiling at Ryan. They’ll make quite the pair: Joe also looks dapper in his silver-white three-piece suit, his skin freshly scrubbed clean to give a polished peach gleam. Ryan forgets all about how much he hates parties and whether Joe admits it or not, he tries not to focus on the fact it feels very much like a date.

Ryan pretends Joe doesn’t.

4. COASTLINE

Joe invites Ryan out to the water with him. He tries to teach him to surf. It’s the first and last time he tries as they learn Ryan is stupendously awful at keeping his balance on a surfboard while the waves are rocking. He probably swallows more sea water than is healthy, but at least he coughs up some of it.

On shore Joe hands Ryan a towel that he gratefully accepts, rubbing his messy soaked hair after he’s squeezed out excessive water onto the sand dampening beneath his bum. These wetsuits make Ryan uncomfortable, a little more conservative about the skin-tight fabric than he’d like to be. He wishes he can be like Joe, who struts around in his wetsuit like he’s born to model them, or even something as simple as rolling the top half of it down, scars on display, just to lay on a towel while the sun warms them both. Joe looks mighty comfortable lounging on his back, hands atop his stomach, while Ryan imitates a drowned cat vigorously trying to groom himself. Instead of his tongue he’s got a terry cloth that’s mostly drenched—not much good for drying anymore.

       “I think I’ll leave it to you from now on to be the surfing expert,” Ryan grouses, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging himself. It’s a silly attempt to heat up faster, but he’ll take what he can get.

Laughing, Joe peeks a bright eye at Ryan. “Come on, you weren’t that bad.”

Ryan snorts, tossing Joe a look as if he’s crazy. “I got booed by a water skier passing by us. I sucked, let’s face it.”

       “They were kind of assholes,” Joe argues mildly.

       “Those assholes weren’t wrong though,” Ryan insists.

Humming, Joe’s quiet for a second as he thinks it over. He comes to a decision shortly. “I suppose you’re right. You were pretty bad.”

Ryan sits up straighter, raising his chin, and affects a haughty air. “Thank you.”

It makes Joe laugh like he intends, yet they both go quiet afterwards. Joe tips onto his side, eyes closed, the corners of his mouth faintly curl up, Ryan staring at him for a second too long. He doesn’t want to say what this feels like—out loud—for fear of Joe shooting the idea down. Rather than humiliate himself more, Ryan bunkers down next to Joe, a respectable amount of space between them without seeming too intimate nor too distant. He tucks his hands behind his head, well on his way to relaxed. Ryan will just keep it to himself how he considers this outing to be a date as well.

5. ARCADE

Ryan has a hard time believing Joe’s never gone to an arcade to actually play on one of the machines. He knows that’s where he and Cameron almost hooked up and where he recruited her, so it possibly has a sour taste in his mouth, but he chooses a different hotspot—plus, it’s not like Joe’s life revolves around a timeline of B.C. and A.C.: “Before Cameron” and “After Cameron.” At least he hopes not. Sometimes when she’s brought up he gets this erstwhile look, one of whimsical nostalgia, but mostly wistful remembrance. Ryan has been trying since the day Joe offers home and heart to him to help remedy that ache, but it may be impossible.

The most he can do is subdue it, except admittedly this isn’t one of his better suggestions for a date. 

       No, not date: hangout.

Now Ryan feels bad. “We can go somewhere else if this if this is too weird for you.”

It’s not a shocker that he’s barely able to finish his sentence before Joe turns on his heel and heads back for the car. Ryan jogs after to keep up, but does give some space. Joe seems a little angry, which is probably better than his sadness. Ryan doesn’t know what to do with sad. Anger? That’s easy.

       “Sorry.”

        “Don’t.”

The ride to Joe’s place is thick with silence. Ryan doesn’t try to talk again, nor after they get inside and Joe handles him a little too roughly when he steers Ryan towards his closed bedroom. In the morning Ryan may have bruises from how tightly Joe holds Ryan’s wrists down or how hard he sinks his teeth in Ryan’s shoulder and he knows for certain he’ll be a little sore sitting because he asks Joe not to hold back [“Just fuck me, Joe. I can handle it.”] and that’s all Joe needs to let himself go and not treat Ryan like some breakable china doll.

In the morning Joe asks Ryan to leave and Ryan does without argument. A couple days later he calls to apologize, regardless if he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for, but Joe accepts it and Ryan feels lighter. Unfortunately they’re both busy after that.

1. DINNER

Obviously he can still be surprised. “You cook?”

Clearly there’s food set out on the table that definitely isn’t store-bought frozen meals or nearby takeout. There’s some flavored rice, what he thinks is cut-up baked fish mixed with vegetables, and  cheesy broccoli. A bottle of sweet red wine even stands between two glasses.

       “Yes, I can cook. Why do you sound so surprised?” Joe’s a bit insulted.

Ryan ignores it as he peels off his coat. “’Cause I mean, you’re Joe MacMillan! Cooking is so… mundane.” That makes him sound like a douche, doesn’t it? “It’s just—you didn’t strike me as the type to like that sort of thing.”

Joe eyes Ryan critically, his hard stare skeptical, like he may have made a mistake. “You’re right. I don’t really enjoy it. But I thought…” He looks across the set table and examines the placement and food choice subconsciously, his hands on the back of a chair. His fingers tighten nervously. “I thought you might like it.”

       “Oh, I do! I really do, you just caught me off guard, is all.” He’s quick to reassure that Joe doesn’t waste his time with this gesture. “This looks great, thanks, man.” Grinning, Ryan moves to take a seat, but is moderately amused when Joe pulls out his chair. Ryan doesn’t comment, simply lowers himself gingerly into the seat, eyes on Joe, full of unasked questions.

He follows suit while he reaches for his napkin and places it on his person properly, treating his dining room as a five-star restaurant. When he looks up at his guest, Ryan scrambles to do the same after a delayed second. 

Joe smiles. “I thought we could try a proper date.”

        “A date?” Ryan must have misheard.

        “A date,” Joe confirms.

Nope, he hears correctly. He’s not sure what to think. “So this is a date then?” he repeats dumbly. It’s hard to believe after Joe denies all the other not-dates they’ve had.

       “If you want it to be,” Joe murmurs, peering at Ryan, fixated. He holds his breath.

Understanding how serious this is, Ryan slowly smiles and he notices the tense line of Joe’s shoulders relax as he breathes. “I want it to be. I do, I really do.”