#these two are running around my brain setting things on fire and laughing

[the-blind-assassin-12]

currently working on these two: 

so it’s TROUBLE in the google docs tonight. 

[archangeldyke-all]

So I few days ago I saw this post with the still where Sevika growls at Jinx looking like she is 3 times bigger than her, and I remembered that I'm like, 4cm (1-2 inches?) taller than Jinx and Sevika would look exactly as big if I was there instead of Jinx. Which at first made me think that I'd give Sevika a piece of my mind if she screamed at me like this, but on the second thought...well, I had to be a woman enough and idmit that Sevika'd make me fucking cry.

Which leads me to: Sevika screaming at reader - mb reader is Silco's goon or smtg (preferably with the height dif to make it scarier) and R is on a verge of tears. Sevika is like, "what the fuck..." She doesn't feel bad in the moment, just shocked and lost (you're criminals, who tf would cry) R comes home and gets angry at Sev for treating her like this and gives Sev reality check the next day, which leads to Sev apologising and then being all like "did I just fucking apologise to her what the FUCK I'm the fucking second in command" but she gets so impressed she asks R out after this.

Thank you for your writings, they're genuinely my morning paper (you post when it's nighttime for me and I read your stories in the mornings). Also you honestly impacted my writing - recently I'd write a line, look at it and think, oh, this is Angel's, she'd write something like this, and it so heart-warming to me. 💕

oh my god that is so heartwarming to ME i'm CRYING!!!!! i love this idea, lets do it!!!

men and minors dni

at first, you're just a blip on her radar. a new hire of silco's, just another set of arms to help lug and count and wield vairous weapons.

you catch her eye a few times in your first weeks working for silco. you're always cracking jokes, making other goons chuckle. you make her chuckle a few times, too. she calls you out during a briefing one evening, complimenting you on your hustle at the drop earlier that day. but besides that you're nothing to her.

and then you fuck up.

it's not your fault, not really. it's jinx's. she's got an intense fondness for fire, and you'd forgotten about that fact. so when the thirteen year old asked you for a lighter, you'd shrugged and tossed her one, thinking she was gonna light some firecrackers or experiment with smoking-- normal thirteen year old things. you never thought she'd set the warehouse you're all standing in on fire.

everyone makes it out unscathed, thank god. jinx runs away with a squeak when sevika comes stumbling out of the building, covered in soot and scowling. "jinx, you fuck!" she cries. "who the fuck gave her fire?!"

you meekly hold your hand up, still coughing up the lungfuls of smoke you'd inhaled. sevika growls, then shoves your shoulder, hard. she towers over you, glaring down at you as she seethes.

"you stupid shit-- what the fuck were you thinking? i'd bet nothing at all, since you clearly don't have any fucking brains in your skull--"

sevika cuts herself off, baffled. she coulda sworn she just saw a tear fall down your cheek.

you sniffle, wiping your face quickly. sevika almost laughs. you're... crying? what the fuck?

who the hell does that? you're a goon for fucks sake-- your job description might as well be: fuck up jobs and get yelled at. and now you're crying?

sevika just stares at you, bewildered, then she scoffs, turns around, and walks away.

you think that's the end of it.

for sevika it's only the beginning.

you didn't plan on confronting her, initially. but sevika was so shocked and put-off by your reaction to her yelling, that she's been yelling more and more at you just to see if you'd react the same way.

it's been two days now, and no matter what you seem to do, sevika's two steps behind you, growling and ready to demean you.

you lose your temper when she criticizes the way you're sharpening your knives.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you growl, suddenly, interrupting her mid-rant. "you make me cry and then decide, what, that you've just gotta see it again?!" you ask. she blinks, even more shocked than she was when you burst into tears. "not all of us are tough as fuckin' nails sevika! but if you think crying is crazy, you should see what i'll do to you if you keep fuckin' with me!" you shout.

sevika's never been this shocked, intimidated, and turned on all at once in her life.

she clears her throat, gulps, then speaks. "i... i'm sorry." she says.

you sigh, then nod. "it's fine." you cut her off, before swiftly walking away. she watches you go, more confused than she's ever been in her life.

did she just... fucking apologize to you? her? second in command to silco? apologizing to you? rookie goon who'd only been hired to dig graves and clean blood stains?

and why couldn't she stop thinking about you? why was she suddenly so drawn to you, muffling her laugh at every one of your jokes she overhears, her eyes drawn to you every time you're in the same room?

sevika almost throws up when she realizes she's crushing on you.

she tries to ignore it. but now that she's aware of her attraction to you, it's all she can focus on.

she goes to work, she's thinking about you.

you're in the room, she's trying to subtly get close enough to sniff your shampoo.

she's at home, she's sleeping off a hangover and having wet dreams about you.

she lasts a week before you confront her again.

"are you plotting on killing me?" you ask one evening while you and sevika lug crates of shimmer off an airship. she trips over her own feet, then looks over at you like you're crazy. you just raise an eyebrow at her.

"what makes you thi--"

"i cursed you out and ever since you've been... watching me." you say. sevika cringes. "ran's worried for me. they say it's like 'watching a predator stalk its prey.' i figured if you were gonna kill me you'd've already killed me, but. i thought i'd ask, just in case." you say. sevika chuckles, unable to help herself. you're funny.

"i'm not plotting to kill you."

"then why--"

"i wanna ask you out." she mumbles. it's your turn to trip over your feet.

"what!?" you squawk. sevika huffs.

"i dunno. i don't get it either. but you cried in fronta me-- i don't remember the last time someone i wasn't killing cried in fronta me. i couldn't stop thinkin' about you. and then you yelled at me-- nobody yells at me. not even silco. and i apologized. i think-- fuck... i think you got me hooked." she groans. you're equally shocked, pleased and amused, smiling in shock and awe at sevika's revelation.

"...so?" you ask. sevika scoffs.

"whaddya mean 'so'!?"

"so... whaddya gonna do about it?" you ask, tilting your head to the side. sevika blinks at you, then smirks.

"can i take you to dinner?"

"actual food or just liquor and smokes?"

sevika giggles-- nobody makes fun of her. but you are. and... she likes it?

"actual food. whatever you want, i'm buying." she says. you smile.

"after work tonight?"

"yes." she nods, grinning. you shrug, pretend to consider her offer, then nod.

"alright." you say.

sevika bites her lip to keep in her girlish giggle. but then you dart forward and press a peck to her cheek-- and she can't help but let it out anyways.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

[postmodernbeliever]

okay so first of all love your work so far, thanks for sharing!! second i was thinking about how easily fox would get a hard on in public, like you give him a single word of praise or you say his name in a certain way and suddenly his work pants are feeling incredibly tight and his hands are running all over his face and he has to stay behind his desk or maybe stick a pillow down against his groin just for a little bit of relief and you barely even did anything

anyways i want to scream i need him so bad

payback- fox mulder x female reader (smut!!!!)

it takes very little to get fox going. one touch, one word, and he’s putty in your hands. so one day, when he's a little too much for you, you decide to hit the man with a little payback- and god, it's worth it!

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to whoever sent this ask in, babeeeee I DROOLED!!! i hope i completed the fantasy for you, even if just a little ;) put my own twist on it. hope you enjoy. <3

my ao3 | word count: 4,010

content tags: smut, teasing, public hand jobs, light angst, fox is needy as hell, you’re kinda hot… damn, cross posted on ao3

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it was embarrassing, honestly. he just couldn’t keep it together. fox isn’t typically so easy– well, in a way he is, because he knows just as well as you do that pretty much anything will set him off. but he’s always been good about hiding it in public… at least, he was before he met you. 

for a guy as horny as he is, you’d think he would thrive under pressure. you’d seen plenty of guys respond to the feeling, seeking a reward, and it would make sense for fox to fit this approach; he was cocky, often to his own detriment, and he pushed until he got what he wanted, whether that be top-secret files or a diet coke from the vending machine. he was a go-getter in every sense of the word. but the second his brain couldn’t keep up with his crotch, he became a lost cause. you liked that about him. it was so easy to get him flustered, and when he was, it was adorable; he tripped up every other word, he got fidgety, he struggled to comprehend even the simplest of conversation, and all that dysfunction was the result of a touch or a sound. 

you learned of this little talent of his the first time you visited him at work. the two of you hadn’t been dating long, but anybody in the same room as you could recognize the disgusting eyes the two of you gave each other. as much as he made your heart flutter, he also made your hips ache, and you were just dying for him– and he felt the same. he couldn’t get enough of you. one afternoon the agent gave you a ring on your cell phone and asked if you wanted to take your lunch break with him, and you laughed and informed the man you’d called in sick for no other reason than you couldn't bear to go into work that day. so he insisted you come and hang out with him in his office, at least for a little while, and you had no problem saying yes. when you got there, you finally got to snap the missing piece of his puzzle into place; the walls screamed of his nature, of his passion, the insanity that turned everyone but you off of him. all the files and disorganization piled high around him like a palace throne, and he sat in his squeaking desk chair, king of it all. you could’ve drowned in that room almost as badly as you wished to drown in him. you’d brought food from a shop down the street, and he ate it gratefully, and you talked his ear off for hours about cases and what it’s like to shoot a gun and have you ever seen any vampires?, and after a while of letting you see him in a space intimate as that, he was getting himself all worked up. you sat so pretty on his desk as he had his back to you, rifling through case files and showing you confidential things he could get fired for. you also looked so pretty when you gazed into his microscope in the back of the office, playing around with all his toys. but when you walked over to where he sat behind his desk and touched all his photographs with curious eyes, and said, “looks like you’re good at your job, fox,” you learned for the first time how easy he was to please. you ogled how he crossed one leg over the other and let out a frustrated groan, and how every move you made wasn’t so much admired as coveted; you saw pleading eyes, a dry mouth, restless hands running up and down his legs and over his blushing skin. you saw how once he couldn’t take it anymore, he cornered you by his favorite poster and kissed you right beneath the saucer, and you’d never forget it.

you didn’t wield this power too often, because you didn’t want to frustrate him. it was so easy to get him riled up and leave him hanging, but you didn’t always have the willpower not to help him out after the fact. and who could blame you, when you have a six-foot-tall government agent for a boyfriend, noisy and whiny and brutally hot all at once? torturing him was fun, yet it had to be done sparingly. but it was a good kick in the back of the knee when he was getting too aggravating, and you could use that leverage right about now.

all day, fox had been getting on your nerves. it takes a lot for him to annoy you because most of the time if he's getting arrogant, you find it attractive. but today was a different situation. the agent came home early, pissed off beyond reconciliation, yet another official reprimand to stain his personal file with the bureau. he burst through the door with a mouthful to spew, and you’d hung around him all day as he paced the floor and brooded over his desktop full of files. you did just about everything you could to cheer the guy up; you made him fresh coffee, you threw his favorite sweater in the dryer so he could pull on something warm, you’d even called in a chinese food order so he could get something in his stomach. but none of it was working. when you tried to play with his hair, he brushed you off, and every time you kissed his shoulder, he’d meet you with near indifference. if you didn’t know how much he loved you, you might’ve slapped him, but this mood wasn’t one he could just get over. he was snappy and tired and upset, and there was only so much you could take, so when hours had passed and he was still being a grump, you decided to get some fresh air– but not without an ulterior motive, of course. 

with freshly set curls and the darkest lipstick you had on hand, you primped yourself to go out for a drink with a few girls from work. they invite you every friday night and you always decline, because there is typically a certain man waiting up for you– but that man seemed not to care, so you chose to take them up on the offer this time around. you shuffled through your blended closet, pulling one of fox’s suit jackets off the rack and draping it over your bare shoulders. you wore a little black dress with a sweetheart neck that stopped just above your knees, the very dress you wore on your and fox’s first date. shoving your feet into a pair of kitten heels, you clicked your way out of the bedroom and into the apartment, standing squarely before the television so fox was forced to take a look. 

“what do you think?”

you watched his big eyes trail up your pantyhose-clad legs, admiring the lacy pattern, and a smile quirked on his lips. “pretty. hey, you’re wearing the dress.”

“i’m going out,” you sighed, blowing past his acknowledgement.

“out? where?”

“some girls from work invited me to grab a drink at the bar,”

“but it’s friday night!”

you rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to tuck away the mischievous grin you felt creeping in. “well, i’ve been stuck inside all day with you, debbie downer. i wanna go have a little fun.”

the man shifted in his seat, expression turning sour. “so you’re not gonna hang out with me tonight?”

“baby, i’ve been trying to hang out with you all day. you just keep brushing me off.”

you crossed the living room to the foyer, where your purse sat on his dining room table. he got up and followed you in, and when you turned around he was right behind you. he had a softer look about him, something like regret, and you had to remind yourself to stand tall in the face of your biggest weakness.

“i’m sorry. i’ve been an asshole.”

“yeah, you have.”

“you know i love you,” he frowned, “more than anything in the world.”

even in heels, you still had to push onto your toes to reach him. with a soft kiss to his cheek, you replied, “i know you do, don’t worry.”

“but you’re still going out anyway,” he huffed.

“i am. but…” you pushed on his chest so he’d take a step back, “if you want to come with me–”

all of a sudden he had floppy ears and a tail, his sparkling eyes full of hope that you’d already forgiven him. “i can come?”

“sure, you can come… it’ll be work friends, though, you have to be social.”

“psh, me? antisocial? love, you’re crazy.”

you giggled as he hurried off to the bedroom, rushing to change out of the work clothes he’d sulked in all day. you leaned against the wall in the foyer, peeking through the door as he changed. you admired the curve of his back while he draped it with a white t-shirt and layered a henley over top, tucking the front into his jeans. you saw him reach for the brown leather jacket in the closet and silently thanked god. once he wriggled into that beat-up pair of timberlands you adored, you straightened out against the wall, working to keep your nonchalant composure. 

he did a little spin and asked in a girly voice, “what do you think?”

and in the deepest tone you could muster, you answered, “pretty.”

he scoffed, taking your hand and leading you out the door, promising, “not as pretty as you.”

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this is where the fun begins. you got him out of the house and in public, where he can’t escape you, and you were going to have your way.

you saw it in every move he made after you placed your hand on his thigh. you sat with three coworkers at the bar, chatting and laughing while they slammed glasses of wine and you nursed a lukewarm beer. fox wasn’t a drinker, so he had a club soda and cranberry, and after a while, you started sharing his drink and leaving yours to collect sweat. you told them all about fox’s job and they questioned him endlessly about solving unexplained cases, and they all seemed to fawn over him which you expected; girls always drool over him when you’re around. he found it funny, and despite the inkling of jealousy, so did you. he seemed to be enjoying himself as he talked about his most recent case, and you smiled, because you’d been waiting all day to do this. you waited for him to finish his sentence, and you let your hand fall gently on his thigh, laughing along with the others. 

“crazy job, don’t you guys think so?” you teased, and they all nodded, yelling over each other in the chaos of the bar. 

fox shot you a look, and you bit your lip like you had nothing on your mind at all. he leaned in close to your ear and asked, “what are you doing?”

you bumped your nose into his cheek playfully. “nothing!” 

“b-but–”

“but what?” you interrupted, pushing your hand down his leg to reach his knee, which you scratched at softly with your fingernails. he felt the sensation through his jeans and shuddered. 

the agent took a sip of his drink and placed his hand over yours on his knee, stopping your teasing. he glanced at the girls who'd invited you, and all three of them were in some deafening debate, almost like you two never showed up. you crossed one leg over the other on the barstool and turned towards the man, deciding that if they were going to be in their own world, you might as well have fun in yours. 

“they’re pretty hammered,” he diverted.

“good,” you smirked, “maybe they’ll be drunk enough to leave us alone.”

“i thought you wanted to come spend time with them,”

“i did, but you know me. i like you better.”

you admired the blush on his cheeks, and you knew it was burning hot because the only light inside the place radiated from neon signs. his eyes darted all over, and he kept chugging his soda, and you felt pride flooding your chest. 

“listen, i’m sorry about today,” fox apologized, tucking a lock behind your ear. “i hope you’re not mad.”

“not anymore,” you winked, and you leaned over to press a kiss to his jaw. you barely let your lips touch his skin– you wanted him to wish you’d come closer. 

slowly, calculated-like, you took his glass and stole the last sip, making the effort to dribble a little down your chin. you wiped up the spill with your thumb and licked it off, and fox’s lips parted. you wished it wasn’t so loud, because you could imagine the soft pant that fell from those lips. 

“what is it, baby?”

the man gave you a look, and then he shifted in his seat. your eyes drifted to his lap, where a little bump was rising, and they nearly bugged out of your head. even if it was what you set out for, you'd never get used to how little it took to get him going. you draped your hand over his bicep and squeezed, placing down his empty glass with glittering eyes.

“y-you… what- what are you trying to do?” fox stammered.

with an innocent bat of a lash, you answered, “nothing, foxie!” and when the flames began to paint his face, you giggled, “something wrong?”

“well- you- i- i mean,” fox groaned, rubbing his hands back and forth over his rosy face to try and shake the feeling swirling inside him. “you’re acting all…”

“all what?”

you stared intently as he passed his hands through all that thick, tawny hair on his head, wishing they were yours. something about him was unbelievable when he got this way. he licked his lips and swallowed nothing but air.

“fox, what’s gotten into you?” you chuckled as the man began running his palms back and forth across the wooden bartop. 

as he dug at the counter with his nails, he grumbled, “you– you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“m’not doing anything,” you lied as you let your hand fall on his thigh again, this time dangerously close to the bulge with your name written on it. 

you watched him hiss, taking your hand and putting it back in your lap. he raised his own in an attempt to flag down the waiter, but there was no chance he’d get noticed; the bar was packed to the gills with drunken bodies, all swarming around you, all moments away from being privy to his situation if you pulled anything else. fox looked like he was lost– in the bar, in his head, in the pressure pushing against his pants– and you were soaking it in like sunshine.

“you look so good tonight, have i told you that?” you gushed, “well, i did as a joke before, but i mean it. you’re so handsome.”

“come on, love,” fox rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t believe you were doing this here, now, in front of the world.

“what? i’m being serious! i like that shirt on you, it makes you look so strong,” you brushed your fingertips along the neckline, letting your nails drag across the base of his throat. you watched a torrential shudder tumble down his back, a curated avalanche in the making. 

“i- i mean-”

“–and you’ve been so sweet since you got over your mood, which makes me so happy. you know i love when you’re good to me,” you sighed, “and you are. you’re so good to me, foxie.”

suddenly, a strong palm wrapped itself around your wrist and tugged you off the barstool. fox didn’t even bother telling the girls where you were going since you hadn’t heard from them in a while anyway; he only pulled you through the thumping building, weeding through clusters of drunks towards the glowing bathroom sign in the back. butterflies were stuffing you full as he pushed open the women’s bathroom door, which was miraculously a dingy little single with a lock. letting go of his grip on you, he locked the door, muffling the blaring noise coming from outside. 

“hey, wait a minute–”

fox’s face dropped. you yelped as he rushed his hands across you, touching everywhere he could, snaking them beneath your stolen jacket and under your dress. you reveled in the feeling, but once his lips tried to press against your neck, you clicked your tongue in disapproval. 

“not here, fox,”

“nobody’s gonna see us,” the man urged, “i– you– come on, please?”

“if you want anything, you have to take me home.”

“you just fuckin’ teased me all night,” he growled, “please, baby.”

you giggled as he backed your hips up to the one and only sink, trapping you beneath his palms. his hard-on twitched against your stomach, and as you looked up into his tall, swimming eyes, you could see something surrendering inside them. you pressed your hands against his stomach, and he pressed himself against you, sighing softly at the ounce of relief. 

“you’re so bad, wanting me to get you off in a bar bathroom,” you teased.

“yeah, i’m the bad one. don’t act stupid.”

“don’t be mean, or you get nothing.” you sucked on your teeth, giving him maliciously sweet eyes. 

“okay, okay, i’m sorry. just… please.”

fox leaned down to rest his head on your shoulder, letting out a whimper so soft it was nearly undetectable. you had to stop your eyes from rolling back at how needy he was; he’s never been this bad, of all the times you’d brutally strung him out in public. maybe it was because he was experiencing your twisted form of payback, or maybe it was all the stress from work in the morning, but you pushed him to a new limit without ever really touching him. your entire body began to burn as you reached your palm down between his hips and rested your hand where he begged for you, and felt a pair of lips attach themselves to your neck, nipping softly at the skin in gratitude. you massaged him like he was fragile, like anything rougher would break him, and in a way, it was true– his knees were weak already, and as he rolled his hips against your palm, his hands trembled at his hold on the hem of your dress. 

“need me that bad, hm?”

all you got back was a strangled, “mm.”

“m’not gonna get on my knees, the floor is too dirty,” you chuckled, knowing he wanted more than what he was getting. 

fox didn’t speak. his brain was too wired to indulge you, but his body ached to be touched, so he found a nonverbal way to ask for it; he lifted you and shoved you onto the sink, and you scrambled to grab at the ceramic countertop. 

“fox–”

his big hands shoved beneath your dress and dug into the chub of your hips, scratching at your legs like a dog. he craned his neck down to kiss you, and as you got distracted by the sugary cranberry crystals at the corners of his lips, he moved in a hurry to unbutton his jeans. you didn’t know exactly what he was doing until your hand made contact with smooth skin, and you looked down to see his cock just barely bouncing in your buzzing palm, swollen and screaming for contact. 

your lips turned downward in a sympathetic smile as you cooed, “oh, baby.”

you shuffled up the counter a little bit so you had a little more room to arch forward. bringing your palm up to let a little spit dribble out of your mouth, nice and slow, just how he likes, you watched his jaw drop and you spread the stuff around your hand with your tongue. when he was sufficiently driven insane, you wrapped your hand all the way around him and laughed. 

“i can feel that second heartbeat you’ve got,” was all you said before you began pumping. 

fox’s hands flew to your face as you stroked him, his thumb gravitating to your tongue; his eyes were glazed over like never before, and you wished you could take a picture. you watched air fill his tummy over and over, heaving in desperation, and he bucked into your hand as if he’d never been touched before in his life. you moved a little faster, feeling the soft disruption of his veins underneath your fingers, swiping your thumb over his tip and making him shake. and fox was all noise, louder and prettier sounding than any club song baring behind the locked door. strings of your name interlaced with curses and promises and praises of how good you were, and how he loved you, and that he wished he was home so you could do more than this, and you sat there swearing that he would get what he wanted the second you two left. by the time you shut him up with your mouth, he was nearly there; and by the time you pulled him by the hips right against your soft stomach, both hands on him, his cock close enough he could feel your dress bunching up on his head, he was there. he was far fucking past there, cumming all over your pretty black dress, leaving milky stains you’d have to cover with his jacket, stains he would be reminded of later when he ripped that thing off you at home. you were in his ear instantly as he collapsed into your shoulder, holding him up, voice soft so you didn’t make his head buzz any more than it was already. 

“oh, good job, baby, good boy,” you smiled, “how’s that, hm? better?”

“bet… better,” he panted, back to the obsessive kissing all over your neck. 

“there’s so much more where that came from, foxie, i promise.”

“then can we get the fuck outta here?” he whined, pulling away to show you his pretty pink face. 

with one last warm kiss, one where you caught his lip between your teeth just for fun, you nodded. “get me a towel first."

fox passed you a paper towel which you used to wipe your dress with, and he chuckled at how you gently folded it up and dropped it in the trash can, like it was a treasure to you. then, as you hopped down from the counter and he zipped his jeans back up, you took him by the hand and dragged him out of the restroom, back over to the bar where your three coworkers were wasted beyond saving. you leaned into the conversation and said, “gotta bounce! i’ll see you guys next week!” and didn’t stick around to hear the drunken replies. instead, you guided the pretty boy behind you out to the parking lot, where he rushed to get behind the wheel and drive you home. you thanked god he didn’t have a drink in his system because he was in a real hurry. 

as you sat in his passenger seat, watching his jittering hand play with the gear shift, you were almost satisfied. your idea of revenge might be a little twisted, but it worked. you’d accomplished what you set out for, now the owner of an apology and a man aching for you. but after that stunt at the bar, you had a newfound greed, one you wouldn’t shake until he got you home; and maybe you were abusing your power, but how could you let up now? as you placed your hand over his, the engine revved beneath your feet, and you giggled. maybe it was torture, but he liked it– so you played with his fingers, and he groaned, and when you finally reached his apartment building, the two of you couldn’t get upstairs fast enough.

[nyradragon]

From dusk till dawn — Ellie Williams

Summary: Just a cozy soft camp out with Ellie under the stars.

Placement/background: Heading back to Jackson after a three day venture for supplies.

Warning(s): Not an official relationship (but definitely gots the feels for each other), pining, nerves, shy-ish!reader, mocking, teasing, big feelings, light touching, wlw, word vomit.

Authors notes: I couldn’t get camping with ellie out of my brain she’d just be all cuddly and cute in a sleeping bag!!! NOT proofread

reblog’s and feedback would be much appreciated<3

The air was chilly even with the glow of the fire in front of you and Ellie’s extra hoodie wrapped loosely around your body. It was two sizes too big for either of you, engulfing your body in something like a warm hug the scent filling your senses sweet but also smoky a perfect mix for Ellie.

The sweetness of her body wash is a mix of strawberries and honey— but also the bitter smoky scent of late-night campfires and shared joints. Though that wasn’t it something else lingered in the balance—.. the woodsy cologne that Joel gave the freckled girl on their last run together.

It truly was Ellie all swirled into one, a perfect balance that reminded you each and every day what home smells like. A smile tugged on your lips as you watched her walk around the small empty clearing gathering smaller pieces of wood to add to the dwindling fire.

The glow of the sunset casting a golden halo around her frame making her look almost ethereal. She’d hunch down picking up two smaller twigs, turning her head to look over at you with a beaming smile before some stray hair falls from behind her ear covering her freckled cheeks ever so slightly.

The most mundane things causing your breath to catch and a blush to fan across your face like the mere act of catching you staring. You’d hug yourself tighter into the sweater almost intoxicated with the scent and moment you caught yourself in.

Ellie would make her way over to the small setup you two had, setting down the pile she had collected near the burning flames before dropping to her knees to tend to the fire.

Your eyes lingered on her back watching the muscles flex as she moved the wood around adding the larger pieces to the flames. Your eyes drop to her hands battered and slightly bruised, some fresh others old and scared over leaving memories of battles we all try to forget.

“You enjoying the view?”

You’d feel the air leave your lungs as you dropped your eyes to your ratty old sneakers your face felt like it was on fire. You felt like your brain was going a mile a minute as you tugged at the ends of Ellie’s sweater, bawling it in your hands.

The girls soft laughs accompanied but the crackle of the wood filled the silence around you. You kept your eyes trained on your shoes, tracing over each scuff mark on them as a way to calm your nerves.

“W-what?— shut up.”

Mumbling the last bit you huffed out a sigh hearing the shuffle of rocks and dirt as Ellie sat down next to you. The green-eyed girl slowly leaned against you giving your shoulder a nudge with hers before turning to you more pressing her chest against your arm. She’d lean her chin onto your shoulder tilting her head to the side to catch your downturned eyes she’d shoot you a goofy face laying all of the weight of her head on your shoulder.

You fail to hide the smile that tugged against your lips as you glanced over her features, your eyes locking for a moment as the giggles erupt from your chest. Ellie would pull away slightly laughing along with you as she placed her hand on your thigh just above your knee giving it a small squeeze.

“There you are, don’t go hidin’ on me.”

Ellie would let out another chuckle before sliding her hand off your thigh and clapping her hands together as she turned to her overstuffed pack. You two had managed to scavenge quite a lot in the last couple of days keeping simple pleasures for yourselves along with more of the requested items Maria had you two look out for.

Ellie rummaged through her pack before letting out a small hum guessing she had found what she was looking for. You furrowed your brows as you leaned closer to the freckled girl trying to catch a peak at what was going on but Ellie was quick.

As you caught a glimpse of her hand Ellie swayed to block your view causing you to crash against her. Your hands gripping onto her back, while the air was knocked out of your lungs for the second time today.

“Nuh-uh.. i didn’t say you could see it yet.”

She glanced over her shoulder with a small smirk leaning her back up against your hands laughing quietly to herself. You shake your head shoving her away from you lightly your cheeks bright red, which only made Ellie want to poke at you more just to see how red she can get ya’.

Whining softly you sat back pouting your bottom lip slightly, your arms crossed over your chest the smile threatening to show through. Ellie watched your little tantrum making her laugh a bit louder before turning her whole body towards you one of her hands still tucked away behind her out of sight.

“Aww, poor lil’ baby”

Ellie would mockingly say in an overly sweet tone reaching over to prod at your puffy cheeks before gipping your chin in her rough fingers and turning your head towards her. She’d have a smile on her lips as she held up the hidden item, your eyes focusing closer you noticed the red tint can.

Laughing loudly you swatted her hand away from your face yanking the can from her hands you read the label Chef Boyardee shaking your head you smacked the can lightly against her arm.

“Really els!? this is what you were hiding like some prized jewels?”

Ellie gasped clutching onto her chest as if she had just been shot before raising her hand again reaching over to pry the can from you. She’d huff, a smirk playing on her lips as she pulled it into her chest like it was an injured animal.

“Don’t talk to the Chef like that he’s sensitive.”

You’d almost wheeze with how hard you were laughing clutching onto your stomach as you attempted to even out your breathing your glazed-over eyes looking over at the auburn-haired girl.

Ellie would have a light blush creeping up her neck and to her cheeks from the lack of oxygen to her lungs, she was hunched over one hand still holding the tin can as the other was plastered on your upper thigh trying to grasp back onto reality.

Your belly laughs had turned into quiet snickers, hiccups and huffs of air. Ellie would look back up at you dropping the tin as she wiped at her eyes, the smile lines staying prominent on her face.

Her eyes were teary, the greens of them deeper somehow you let your eyes drift to her cheeks, her freckles became more and more visible from all the time in the sun the last couple of days. She was breathtaking and she doesn’t even know it.

You signed softly letting your eyes meet Ellie’s again she’d look slightly lost in thought reaching over to touch her cheek lightly her lashes fluttered closed momentarily before opening again to see your flushed cheeks and kind eyes looking back at her.

She’d lean into your hand letting the warmth seep into her skin a soft hum leaving her barely parted lips. You’d smile, lost in how at peace she looked her features soft no harsh lines or deep frowns just— peace.

The glow of the fire was your only source of light as the sky darkened around you causing you to softly tap on the tired girl's cheek. She’d squeeze your thigh as she straighten herself out a bit more.

She’d lift her hand to place over yours turning her head slowly to press a soft kiss onto your knuckles, a shiver ran down your spine as you let out a shaky breath.

Ellie lowered your hand but didn’t let go of it giving it a small tug to pull you closer to her side so you were snuggling into her.

“I’ll take first shift you get some rest, okay?”

The freckled girl mumbled quietly as a yawn fell from her lips she’d glance around the area to make sure she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. You looked up at the girl reaching up to touch her cheek again before straightening up yourself.

“—You rest i’ll take first shift, bug.”

Ellie opened her mouth to protest her eyebrows pulling together as you placed your finger over her lips shushing her before shaking your head.

“—Nope don’t want to hear it, you’ve had first shift enough. Sleep. now.”

You’d say sternly tugging your intertwined fingers into your lap causing Ellie to lean into you more. A small smile pulled on the girl's lips as she gave you a small nod, scooting lower so she was laying on the worn-out sleeping bag under the two of you.

She’d rest her head onto your lap earning a small giggle from you as she wiggled to get comfortable. You’d run your fingers through her soft hair, humming a quiet tune Ellie had played for you countless times before.

The freckled girl's eyes drooped closed, her deep breaths turning more shallow as she melted into your touch. Your humming and your soft touch lulled her to sleep slowly and you smiled just savouring the soft moments.

Ellie felt safe with you like she didn’t have to keep her guard up all the time, she could rest, she could let someone else take the reins, she could let someone take care of her. You could take care of her.

Ellie shifted pulling your intertwined fingers closer to her face, her soft breath fanning over your fingers as she spoke in a hushed and sleepy voice.

“—You’re my home.”

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 1 - Breeding

My first published piece for Call of Duty! Like a lot of others I got very much sucked in (c'mon...hot masked man? ya'll really think I'm that strong? I'm far too gay for that. /hj) to this series and hope you all enjoy the content I write for it! Enjoy!~

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Coming on this mission was nothing short of a mistake. Yet Price wasn’t one to let work build up and overwhelm him. Plus, this was a favor to Nik; he couldn’t just turn the Russian man down with all the times Nik had saved his ass. The unfortunate part of all this was you.

Your relationship with the Captain wasn’t exactly secret. A number of soldiers had caught you two by now. You two really did try to keep things under wraps! But after Gaz and Soap had caught you in his lap, lips passionately discovering the other’s, well…let’s just say the two sergeants weren’t the best at letting it remain a secret. Thankfully for the both of you, Laswell had workarounds, and the entire squad was sworn to secrecy until further notice. It was only recently, during a short shore leave that the conversation came up: kids. “I’m too old for that pup,” he’d chided, casually taking a drag off his cigar. You huffed a laugh quietly.

“Oh c’mon John,” you hummed against his bare chest. Your fingers played idly with the hair that covered his skin. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to see a little mix of both of us running around base? How happy they’d be with all their uncles and auntie Laswell?” You could see the cogs turning in his post-coitus brain. So many different scenarios played over and over in his brain. On the one hand, the two of you had probably the most dangerous jobs in the world. There was absolutely no way he would let you back out in to the field if he found out you were pregnant. 

But the more he thought about it; you all round with his child, the happy life that would await you two. The idea of him absolutely ravishing you with the sole purpose of knocking you up became more and more enticing. Which was exactly why this mission was nothing short of torture for him.

You were being used as bait, put lightly. And a variety of different people had their hands all over you, guiding you where you needed to be. Now normally, Price was by no means a jealous man. He was rather proud to call you his partner, and was more than happy to show you off and brag about you. But something about the way you were being drug around set some sort of fire in the good captain.

“Ghost, do you have a copy?” He asks over the comms.

“Send traffic,” comes the response of Ghost from the other end of the building, no doubt honing on potential targets through the sight of his sniper rifle.

“Go to the next channel, there’s been a change of plans,” Price tells him as calmly as possible. There are a view other questions from Soap, Gaz, and Laswell, but he leaves them all unanswered as he switches the channel on his radio. “I’m going in after them.” “Price…” Ghost starts to protest. He’d warned the Captain long ago that if Price were to involve himself with a partner, emotions would eventually get in the way. The masked man knew his Captain’s emotions and control over them far better than he’d ever let on. “We can’t afford to complicate things.”

“I won’t,” Price comments sharply, slipping down the embankment to get closer to the building. His aim was to slip in a window to a room where he knew there’d be no guards. He remembers the layout like the back of his hand; his photographic memory worked pretty well for someone reaching forty. 

Again, the Lieutenant sighs heavily over the comms. “Fuckin’ hell…” he grumbles, adjusting his position slightly. “Just don’t get yourselves caught in there old man. Last thing we need is losing two good soldiers in one night.”

The captain chuckles grimly before hoisting himself up onto a few barrels and switching his comm back to the original channel. Ghost can be heard explaining the plan to the team, but Price tunes them out. “C/S, move to that empty room we pointed out on the first floor as you can,” Ghost instructs.

“Copy,” comes your hushed response. Price nods, hauling himself up and into the open window. How their target didn’t think to guard this room was beyond him. Then again, with how much he was struggling to get in, it’s not like it was necessary. “Fuck my old boots,” the man grumbles as he hits the floor, joints protesting at the sudden drop.

“Gettin’ old on us there Cap?” comes your teasing tone. You just barely manage to silently shut the door behind you when your world is sent into a whirlwind, eyes now meeting the brick wall in the dark room. A gloved hand is covering your mouth as the other pins your hands above your head. 

“I’m sorry darlin’,” you hear Price say, right against your ear. “But there’s a thought that’s been plaguing me, and I can’t hold it in anymore, Nikolai be damned.” You try hard to wiggle and protest, but your captain has his boot between your feet, shuffling your legs apart.

You gasp a little as you feel the excitement rush straight between your thighs. “That’s my pup,” Price purrs, warm breath and beard tickling the shell of your ear. “Keep those wandering hands still for me.” Slowly, as if to test your obedience, the good captain lets go of your hands. You do as he orders as you feel him undo the suit pants you’d been put in for the night. 

A gloved hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear, running over your wet slit. You try to contain your whimper, but your captain was no fool. He knew your body and all it’s sweet spots better than he knew his own. The rough fabric brushes over your nub and you gasp against his other hand. 

“That eager already are we?” The man teases, kissing along your neck. Your eyes close and your brow knits in frustration. Not that you were mad by what was unfolding, oh no. It was because that man’s amazing cock wasn’t in you right now.

Thankfully, you and Price often shared the same brain cell, and you could hear the telltale sound of him undoing his belt, shimmying his pants and briefs down enough to get his member free. Yours were next, the fabric easily slipping down your legs to pool around your ankles. 

Price was as slow as he felt he could be, rubbing the head of his cock over your quickly moistening slit and hole. “Gonna take me so well darling,” he coos, more kisses and nips against the sensitive area of your neck. 

When his member first breaches your entrance, your knees almost buckle. It had been so long since you’d had your captain inside you, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. If it weren’t for the glove in front of you, the diplomatic party would probably have heard your shuddered sigh of pleasure as Price fully sheaths himself inside you.

It doesn’t take long, between the time crunch and your warm, wet walls hugging his cock so perfectly, for the captain to start truly fucking you. He went from gently letting you adjust to trying to muffle the sound of your skin meeting so quick it made your world spin. “Fuckin’ hell,” he groans, sliding his hand down your side to grip your hip so hard you knew it would bruise and you’d have to hide your slight limp for the rest of the night.

“Can’t wait to see you,” he murmurs against your skin, stopping in his sentence to moan softly. “--so full with our child, love. Gonna be so perfect for me.” His words have you absolutely gushing, your wetness making the sex even louder. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you had been at this, but the voices growing closer to the room told both you and Price that there wasn’t much time left. “Price, wrap up your business,” Ghost hisses over the comms. The thrill and knowledge of what brought this on has you teetering on the precipice of orgasm.

“Go on pup,” Price growls softly. “Let’s make this the moment. That moment I breed you like you want.” As every good soldier would, you follow your captain’s order, biting down slightly on the fabric of the glove to keep your whimpers from reaching the hall. The good captain isn’t far behind you, quickly spilling his seed inside you. 

The two of you are trying to come down from your respective highs when you hear. “...Is someone in there?” shouted from beyond the door. In swift movements, Price pulls out of you and you’re pulling your pants and underwear up from the floor. Just as you’re finished fixing your hair and your captain slips around the corner does the door open, light flooding the dark room.

“...Y/N?” asks the intruder. You give a sheepish smile, only accented by the flush still on your face. Not like they had to know it was from the sneaky sex you’d just had with your superior who would probably blow this person’s brains out in the next few minutes.

“Sorry, I…got a bit shy. I needed a moment to adjust myself,” you explain. The person shoots you a knowing look before ushering you out of the room. Price waits with baited breath for them to leave and walk away before sighing. He needed to get out of here before the mission changed any further. 

“All finished?” Ghost asks, voice surprisingly calm for how much he detested the change in plan.

“On my way out,” Price advises, pulling a few boxes closer to help ease his escape.

“Good,” the lieutenant answers. “Oh and Price? Permission to speak freely?”

“Go ahead Ghost, send traffic,” the captain answers, just barely getting into the window before he hears the response.

“Turn your comms off next time you decide to fuck your partner on the job.”

[luimagines]

He’s Flirty, You’re Flustered Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will consist of Time, Sky and Four

Content under the cut!

Time

Time walked up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned around and tilted your head. When your eyes met his, you took a step away and smile, trying to keep the blush on your face from the close contact. “Yes? What can I help you with Time?”

“I was wondering if you would be willing to join me for patrol for the evening.” Time says evenly. “It’s not necessarily a grueling task in need assistance. However, company is always appreciated.”

The way he smiles sends your heart into an unsteady pitter patter pattern. You can feel your face getting warmer just at at the thought and can barely bring yourself to nod. You can feel your stupid smile creep onto your face.

Time smirks and your brain ceases to work for a solid moment. “Perfect. I’ll return in a moment and we can be off.”

“..Ah..” You say intelligently. “Of course. I’ll be waiting.”

You want to kick yourself. Can you be any more obvious?

Time comes back within moments and straps his sword to his back. He takes your hand without a second thought and begins to lead the way. “Let’s go.”

You splutter and follow without any word of objection, trying to keep your noises to yourself by covering your mouth with your free hand.

You try to keep your gaze to the ground where Time won’t have to notice that your face is lit aflame. Your walk is thankfully in silence even if Time doesn’t let go of your hand.

Bravely, you manage to lace your fingers together even though you can’t bring yourself to lift your head up to see his reaction. Time squeezes your hand a little tighter and it makes you feel a little better.

“It’s quiet.” He says. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing right now.”

You shrug. “Let’s say it’s a good thing. No need to invite calamity upon us when it’s unwarranted.”

Time hums and swings your hands for a moment. “Well said.”

“Thank you.” You flush deeper and sneak a peak at the man next to you. He’s look down at you with a soft smile on his face.

You gasp and look away again.

Time laughs. “Do I scare you?”

“No.” You say, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Do I make you nervous then?” Time stops walking now and leans closer to your face.

You shake your head. The words die on your tongue. If you repeat your previous answer, that would be a lie. But if you tell the truth he might get the wrong idea. You clear your throat and shake your head with more clarity and determination.

Time’s finger taps your wrist. “You’re lying.”

You’re stomach drops when you realize what he means. “Time-”

“You’re quite adorable, you know that?” He interrupts you. “Red is such a lovely color on your, my dearest.”

The words get stuck and you squeak.

Time smiles and reaches over to run the back of his hand against your cheek. “I think it looks even better up close.” He says as he leans even closer. “You enchant me. And yet it appears I can only get a true answer out of you when your cornered, Love.”

You knee threaten to buckle from under you.

Time takes mercy on you and leans away, but not before placing a butterfly’s kiss on your forehead. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You’re breathless. How are you going to sleep tonight?

Sky

Sky looked your way for what to be the umpteenth time in the past thirty minutes. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. It was going to set your nerves in fire. Either he stops or he does something about it. You didn’t know which was worse.

You sighed and tried to keep your cool. At least outwardly. You looked back at the sword you were sharpening. It looked like the Traveler’s. You had taken over this small chore since the blacksmith was out of the commission for the time being. Poor guy got a nasty hit and was nearly split open. He was benched until further notice.

You don’t know you’ve seen him as disappointed but silent this entire time. Maybe it hurt to be argumentative. Either way, you took it upon yourself to do it since the others aside (from Legend) weren’t going to.

And Sky was still watching you.

You didn’t want to think about it. You bit back a pitiful whine and keep at the cleaning and sharpening. It’s brainless work. No one needs to think. Just don’t get cut.

Sky stands up. Consequently, it sends your heart into your throat as well. You think that maybe he’s going to talk to one of the others instead but nnoo... The pretty boy has to start making his way towards you instead.

You put the sword down before you do something stupid with it.

Sky grins and waves to you. “Hey.”

You smile back and wave as well. “Need something?”

“You have a thing.” Sky points to his cheek and you’re mortified. How long has it been there? Is that why he was looking?

You try to wipe it off but Sky shakes his head. You wipe the other wide and it only makes Sky snort. “You made it worse.”

You ball up your sleeves in a fury to scrub out whatever it may be but Sky beats you to it.

“Here. Hold on.” Sky smile and licks his thumb, gently taking your chin with his other hand and buffering out whatever stain had gotten on your face.

He goes slow with his motions, looking at something you couldn’t even feel. He’s not really looking at you anymore but the moment feels intimate, soft and more impactful than it should.

Sky’s eyes shift to yours and you see him smirk. “Got it.”

“ThAnks.” You cough and rub your cheek anyway with your sleeve. “Do you even know what it was? I couldn’t feel it.”

“It was probably from the metal work you’re doing.” Sky pokes your nose.

You blush fiercely, cursing your reaction when you see Sky take notice of it. “WEll...”

You clear your throat, tearing your sight away from Sky. He smiles with all teeth, amused and joyful. You hate this. “Someone has to do it. I don’t mind it.”

“Well thank you for looking after our gear. You look cute.”

You squawk! “What! No I don’t!”

“You did! You’re tongue was sticking out and you had this concentrated look on your face-”

“Oh my god. No thank you. But thank you. I’m going now.” You stand abruptly, letting the sword of whoever fall over.

Sky laughs and stands with you. “Where are you going? I’ll go with.”

“Somewhere! It’s fine! Don’t worry about it!”

“Let’s go!”

“No, Sky don’t! Link, I swear!”

He laughs.

Four

You were trying to sew your pants after ripping them in the last fight. You all the more grateful to your past self for packing more than one pair because that was not something you wanted to boys to handle for you.

Sure you were close enough in size for some of them to have lent you their clothes but then you’d have them know that you were down a pair of pants. And the tear wasn’t exactly in the most flattering place. You’d rather deal with and fix it yourself without any one noticing.

“Whatcha got there?”

You jump and stab yourself, jabbing and dragging the needle across your finger leaving a blossoming line of red in its wake. You hiss and grip it tightly on instinct, dropping everything in your hands to deal with it.

Four hisses next to you and sits down. “Whoops. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” You grit out. “It just hurts.”

“I bet.” Four holds his hand out. “Let me see.”

You whine and pull back, letting your finger go. The blood seeps down in slow welts, pooling at the edges of your skin. Four takes your hand gently and turns your finger this way and that to get a better look at it. 

“It doesn’t look deep at least.” Four mentions. “Just long and unfortunate. A very long paper cut.”

“That was made by a very small blade.” You mutter.

Four snorts and stands with his hand son his hips. “Give me a second and I’ll get some stuff to help with it.”

He winks and walks away leaving you mildly dumbfounded with your hand cradling your finger. You watch him go and turn back to the project you’ve all but abandoned. There’s no way you’re going to finish this now.

Four comes back in record time with a small pouch and a roll of white gauze. He takes the liberty of sitting next to you, generously ignoring how you instantly blush as his thigh makes contact with yours.

“Hand.” He demands and holds his hand out once more for you to put it in.

You bite you lip and give it to him. There’s very you’d be able to deny him anyway. Something tells you that he knows this.

He cleans it as gently as he can. It still stings and you tense with each swipe of the cleaning agent but you don’t comment on it. Soon he’s bandaging your wound and holds your hand with enough tenderness to fill your heart with need and yearn.

It hurts more than the stinging prior.

Four turns your hands around again in his, looking at it with more care and attention than you think is necessary. You want to tell him off but something in his eyes captures you and while he studies your hand, you study him.

Someone coughs and you look away from each other. Legend takes your pants from you, taking out his own needle and begins where you left off. “Can you make goo-goo eyes at each other while I’m not here please?”

Your face explodes in a blush. You’re too embarrassed to have been caught and called out. Enough so that you can’t even to reply. You go to rip your hand away from Four but he holds on this time, bringing your attention back to him.

Four is looking at Legend with a smirk. “When I asked for your help I didn’t say you had to be near us.”

“Four.” You squeak.

“I hardly ever get this chance. Come on man.” Four keep talking.

Legend rolls his eyes. “No shame.”

“I have no reason to be ashamed.” Four looks back at you and kisses the back of your hands- just shy of the bandages he just placed, so you feel his lips on your bare skin.

Your full attention is on the black smith once more. You can feel him smirking.

Legend scoff. ”Both of you. I swear. Just kiss!”

“It’s not your permission I need Vet.”

“...Oh my god.” You cover your face with your other hand.

Part 3

[reidslovely]

Another suggestion: reader furious with Peter, thinking she was cheated by him after his ex-girlfriend posted a photo of the two together in IG with a dubious and enigmatic caption... Too much drama, anguish, reader pulling away and running off somewhere to reflect... Peter finds her... Happy ending, please <3

Maybe not my best piece of work, but I did what I could and I like how it turned out. A little longer than I thought it would be haha. Hope you love it friend.

Admittedly, she was not too fond of the idea of going to Peter’s ten year high school reunion with him. They had just officially started dating about a month ago, and she was still unsure if these were things he wanted her to attend with him. There was also the fact that Peter never asked her if she wanted to go with him, and she was not about to invite herself. When he got to her apartment from the reunion, she noted that he was slightly buzzed and tired. The latter showed from the way he tossed himself face first on the bed. She laughed asking him how it went, and if he saw any old friends. 

“I think I’m still the same loser I was then. Puny Parker still reigns as the loser king.” He mutters burying his face deeper into her blanket clad thighs. “Seeing my high school bully and my first girlfriend all in the same night really pulls some worse flashbacks than any of my crime fighting has.” 

She couldn’t help but to laugh from that, as Peter rolled over head still in her lap, staring up at her before closing his eyes and falling asleep. 

Admittedly, she also was not too fond of the first picture that popped up on her instagram that morning. (Y/N) had no clue she had even followed Liz Allan anywhere on social media. The photo, taken the previous night, had the dark haired girl clinging to a giggly, tipsy Peter. Arms around his neck cheek to cheek, like something out of a catalog. Swiping in the carousel of photos the next was a similarly posed picture of the two. The couple in the photo were about eleven years younger fifthteen years old, sixteen at most. Having a happy day at the skatepark, still clinging to each other. As if the pain in her heart growing was not a big enough sign to turn back and ignore the post she let her eyes wander down to the caption. 

‘Most definitely not fifthteen and sixteen anymore but still love you just the same Petey” 

That alone set fire onto her skin, her stomach churning out of pure spite and jealousy. Peter slept soundly in her bed next to her, and it took everything in her rational brain to hold back from repeatedly hitting him with the decorative pillows. She stared at him, rationally she knew this was just two friends, maybe even strangers now reminiscing about their past. However, when he came home last night he made it sound so miserable like he never even wanted to see her. Quietly, and slowly she removed herself from the bed not wanting to stir him awake. Peter rolls around for a minute noticing the shift in weight. It doesn’t wake him though, (Y/N) sighs softly making her way to the kitchen after changing her clothes. 

Pulling her favorite to go cup down from the cabinet she starts making her morning tea, she grabs the notepad off the table writing a quick note that she’d be back soon, that he should take out breakfast. She makes her way out the door and down the stairs.

 “Good Morning Ms. (Y/LN). No Peter?” The older lady from next door asks as she walks her dog. 

“No, no he’s sleeping in this morning. Had a busy night, I just wanted to get some reading done at the park this morning.” 

“Well have fun, be safe.” 

(Y/N) nodded her neighbor off, forcing a smile as she walked across the street heading for Astoria park. 

Peter rolled over once more, his hand reaching out for his girlfriend. His skin was met with the emptiness of cold satin sheets, his fingers dragging on the fabric as he lifted himself up to look around the room. It was dark and empty, the only bit of light that filled the room came from a crack in the curtain. Peter yelled out, waiting a few seconds for a reply before jumping out of bed. He ran through the condo looking around, stopping in the kitchen seeing the note on the counter. His hand rubbed down his face, his stomach grew a sinking feeling. Peter looked around frantically for his phone, digging through the pockets of his jacket from last night. Once in his hand it lit up, a photo of (Y/N) holding a Spider-Man plushie decorated his screen. An instagram banner notification pulled his eyes down: ‘LizzyAllan tagged you in a photo’. Peter clicked on it confused, the photo of him and her from last night mirrored one from a decade ago. Liked by ‘(y/n)(y/ln)’ caused the sinking feeling to grow. It was a silly thing to be jealous over, but putting himself in her shoes..he’d be jealous too. 

Peter clicked around his phone calling (Y/N) leaning against the kitchen counter. “Hey leave me a message, I’ll ge-” Kicking his feet Peter stood up straight, walking to the bedroom getting dressed. Grabbing his jacket and heading out, he clicked on her contact digging for her location. Astoria Park - 30 minutes ago, surely she couldn’t have gone far in thirty minutes. He stepped out onto the fire escape, took one look around, and swung off. Astoria was close enough, but swinging would get him there faster. 

Trees rustled, (Y/N) sat her journal down looking around. Peter walked out slowly behind the trees fixing his hair, approaching her. (Y/N) watched as he gave her a knowing smile, she returned it with a frown. 

“She means nothing to me, you know that right?” Peter asks, dropping down onto the ground next to her. “I dated her for five months in high school when I was sixteen.” 

(Y/N) sighed letting her head roll back before nodding. “Rationally, yes.” She leans her head on his shoulder playing with the fabric bookmark of her journal. “It’s just I didn’t go with you last night, you came home acting like you hated every bit of it and then I saw your photos with her looking happy and I felt..” 

“Left out, I get it. I’d feel that way too. I didn’t mean to make you feel negative.” He whispers against her hair. “I did have an awful time last night because you weren't there. You can ask anyone, all I did was talk about my new girlfriend and how cool she is.” Peter laughs, moving her hair from her face putting his face back on the top of her head. 

“You did?” 

“Of course I did. Showed everyone a picture of you, Flash couldn’t believe I was dating someone as pretty as you.” He jokes. 

“Mhm now you’re just trying to flatter me.” 

“Absolutely not, it’s true. You’re my girl and I love showing you off. It’s a silly throwback pic, you are my now and future okay, you don’t ever need to worry.” 

She smiled, letting her eyes track up his face as he pulled away. “Now can I please have a good morning kiss?” 

“Sure, I guess.” (Y/N) hums playfully, leaning in first. 

___

@helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @someblessedmonster

[viviennevermillion]

Garden of Lights

notes: for once, dottore decided to be romantic. I had this idea ever since I found out what the inside of the ruin golem looked like. dottore is possessing my brain at this point.

this work is part of the #marry a harbinger event

contains: dottore x gn!reader

prompt: the proposal

warnings: none

Out of the many words you associated with il Dottore, "romantic" had never been one of them. Many would describe him as cold or cruel. In the presence of others he seemed indifferent towards you. Yet what Dottore lacked in obvious displays of affection, he made up for in companionship.

His love for you showed in the little things he did. How, after a long day spent in his lab he'd join you on the sofa, reading a book with you and gently leaning against you as you could feel his tense muscles relax. Or that he was always looking out for your health; something he had never done for anyone else. How he went out of his way to buy you new pancakes at the bakery across the street when he burnt the ones he tried to make you for breakfast.

You'd exit your shared bedroom, still tired and talk to him while standing in the doorframe. "What's that smell?", you raised your eyebrows. "The usual", Dottore replied, calmly putting out the fire in the pan. "Arson?" "Breakfast."

"Hmm", you'd reply and go back to bed.

But today was different. The two of you were up early, as you were on a "business" trip in Sumeru and Dottore insisted he had something to show you. "Something" apparently required a very long hike towards Devantaka Mountain.

"Are we there yet?", you whined, trying to catch up with him. "What are you, 5?", he teased you and gave you an amused grin, "does a little walking make you this exhausted?" "If you turn it into half a marathon by having the speed of a feral Rishboland Tiger, yes it does", you sighed and Dottore laughed but slowed down instinctively to make sure you wouldn't overexert yourself. He'd let you hold his hand and decided as much as he wanted to get to the point of why you went on this journey in the first place, he'd let you take a look at the scenery and would try to make the hike enjoyable for you.

You eventually arrived at the giant Ruin Golem that decorated the landscape of the mountain. "Here we are", Dottore said proudly, "almost set this thing loose on the capital in my Akademiya days....ah, good times." You gave him a concerned look as he entered the giant machine with you. "Is this safe?", you asked, "like, a normal person's understanding of safe?" "Don't worry, I'm not going to activate it...", he said, "...not today at least." He guided you through the tunnel entrance until the two of you arrived in a huge dark space inside of the Ruin Golem.

Dottore used a switch on the side of the tunnel.

You suddenly saw the whole interior of the Ruin Golem light up. There were hundreds of small lamps that looked like they all had been attached to the metallic hall by hand. It was a beautiful sight, looking like some sort of industrial light garden. Did Dottore do this for you? This must have taken a ton of work....

You marveled at the fairy lights decorating the rusty stairs and walls and then turned to Dottore who had taken off his mask and was looking at you with an uncharacteristically gentle smile that you didn't get to see too often. You walked towards him and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his chest. "This is beautiful, Dottore...", you smiled at him and kissed him lovingly, running your hand through his hair which you knew was an action he loved.

"Want to dance or something?", he asked casually but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. Likely because this was so untypical of him that he didn't want you to tease him. "You're so romantic today", you remarked in surprise but took his hand nevertheless and thus his offer for a dance. "We can also terrorize a village with the giant robot if that's more on brand", he rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around your waist. "Let's not do that", you chuckled and Dottore used what looked like a small remote. Music started playing in the background and he swayed to the music with you. He accidentally stepped on your feet a couple of times. "Do you have any experience with dancing?", you asked him. "I read a book, does that count?" "It does not."

You chuckled and tried to teach him a little until he was looking into your eyes, concentrating on the dance. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, his facial expression was unreadable but he looked like he was analyzing the way you made him feel. He looked a little puzzled so you decided to test his reaction by giving him a soft kiss onto his lips. He didn't react at first. He just kept staring at your face.

Then he leaned in for another kiss, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you slowly but passionately. He pulled you closer to his chest and sighed into the kiss while his hand was caressing your cheek.

"So", you inquired after parting from him, "what's the occasion? As much as I adore all this, you have to admit it's a little unlike you." He shrugged. "I suppose you're right. Well, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

He reached into the pocket of his coat to pull out a small box. He opened it to reveal an intricately designed silver ring to you. He didn't kneel down but it was still evident what he was trying to do. "I made it in my lab", he explained and looked into your eyes, "we've been together for a while now and I thought we might as well." He tried to play it cool as he was obviously unfamiliar with a situation like this and didn't really know how to approach asking you for your hand in marriage. "Will you marry me, y/n?", he asked quietly.

You nodded with tears in your eyes and pulled him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. Oh great, emotion, what do I do now?, Dottore thought and awkwardly patted your head. He put the ring onto your finger and gave you a forehead kiss.

"Thank you", he then said, avoiding eye contact, "for understanding me. For accepting me the way I am. And for letting me into your heart even though I'm...not easy to love." You cupped his cheek and smiled at him as you pressed another kiss to his lips. "You were an aquired taste, I admit that", you chuckled and ran a hand through his soft hair, "but I assure you, by now loving you is one of the easiest things for me to do."

You smiled down at the ring and ran your finger over it, reaching for the gemstone on it. Dottore swatted your hand away. "Careful that's the button for the scalpel."

You raised your eyebrows at him. "You included a scalpel function in my engagement ring?", you stared at him for a moment, "nevermind, why am I surprised, it's you." "Think of it as a self-defense mechanism", he shrugged.

You pulled him close again and let him hold you in his arms. "What now?", you asked quietly. "Well, we could stay here for a while. Or watch the stars on top of the machine", he squeezed your hand and grinned at you, "or we could-" "We're not activating this thing, Dottore."

"If that's your wish", he sighed and kissed your forehead, "can we use a ruin machine as our flower girl? Machines have a way better aim than children. Or Columbina for that matter." "Fine", you shook your head and leaned your forehead against his shoulder, "I love you, crazy."

Dottore chuckled. "Love you too."

[strangerquinns]

Deadly Reunion | Chapter 8

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count: 2.5K+

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

You walked beside Eddie as he led you toward the back part of the camps compound. There was a part of you that didn’t fully believe that you were finally here. Finally, back with Eddie. It was like your brain hadn’t fully caught up. Or you were dreaming, and you were still off in the middle of nowhere, nowhere near Hawkins.

But if this was a dream, you wanted to hold onto it as tightly as you could.

Eddie led you toward the far back corner of the compound where the noise slowly faded away. You suddenly felt secluded and like the eyes of strangers were finally off you.

Eddie even noticed how you seemed more relaxed.

Three trailers were tucked away at the back corner all  fanned out slightly from one another. A firepit sat toward the middle with sawed down tree stumps and fold out chairs. Sitting in one of the chairs was a face you hadn’t seen in a long time. Even with the years passed he look the same. His sandy blonde hair long and pulled back away from his face. He seemed more focused on the fire in front of him than anything else. Till the sounds of both you and Eddie approaching caught his attention.

Gareth’s head popped up and his brown eyes met with yours almost instantly. His face quickly changed with shock, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open for a moment before he nearly erupted from his chair. The fold out chair collapsed where it once stood as Gareth came chasing toward you.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, girl!” He screamed with a laugh before soon his body collided with yours.

A small scream of happiness came from you as his arms wrapped around your frame and pulled you in tightly. Your feet were lifted from the ground as Gareth spun you around. Eddie stepped back and watched as the two of you erupted into face splitting smiles and laughs.

“Oh my god,” Gareth spoke, setting you down and stepping back to grab each side of your face. “You’re really here!”

“I’m really here!” You laughed, your cheeks starting to hurt from the force of your smile.

“I thought Eddie was hallucinating when he said that he found you out on a run.” Gareth spoke, his face still split with a smile. “Was waiting for you to finally show up.”

“Got out of the little place that had me in today. I wanted to see you the moment Eddie said you had made it back here with him.”

Gareth nodded his head, smile still on his face, but slightly dropped. “Yeah, well, just me and Ed…well, and now you.” He reached up and scratched as his jaw, “Want a beer?”

“God, please.” You spoke with eagerness, following behind both Eddie and Gareth as they walked toward the small makeshift firepit between the trailers. “How’d you get beer? Sure, it would all be flat and gross by now.”

“Oh, it is,” Gareth spoke, pausing for a moment, “But you get used to it I guess. Try not to drink the good stuff too often.”

“This this is an occasion where we can crack open the good stuff?” Eddie spoke with a cocked brow, and a small smirk on his lips.

Gareth paused for a moment and looked between two friends. It always amazed you how Eddie and Gareth seem to always have a secret way to communicate with one another. It just took one look and the other knew what they were saying. Gareth let out a small laugh before nodding his head and heading toward the trailer to the left, opening the door quickly, before coming back out. A glass bottle tight in his grasp with the label warn off and faded from the sun.

“We may or may not raid some of the liquor stores when on runs to the towns surrounding Hawkins.” Eddie spoke, taking a seat in the folding chair, his long legs outstretched out in front of him. His tall and lean frame seemed to make the chair seem smaller the moment he sat down.

Gareth walked over and handed a glass to Eddie, pouring some of the amber liquid, before he walked toward you. There was a twinkle in his eyes that seemed to brighten his face up for a moment. You couldn’t stop yourself from feeling happier the longer you looked at Gareth. It reminded you of the old times, before everything was ruined.

“Sorry, doll, not gonna be cold.” Gareth spoke, handing you a small glass. Closer inspection  saw it was an old jam jar cleaned out to be a cup. “Don’t exactly have ice around, ya know?”

“No complaint here,” You spoke, taking a small sniff of the liquid and cringing slightly. Whiskey. It was never really your friend, but you weren’t going to deny it either.

You took a small drink and felt a cringe move through your body as the liquor moved down your throat with a burn. A cough came from you as you forced it down, across from you, someone let out a laugh. It wasn’t hard to realize it was Eddie. You looked up and glared toward him.

“Good to know somethings don’t change.” Eddie spoke, still laughing as he brought the glass to his lips.

Your glaring hardened slightly which only caused Gareth to let out a light laugh. “Oh, god, this is bringing up some memories.”

“Not like I had whiskey on me while trying to live day to day.” You spoke, blanching as you took another drink. “Last camp I was in didn’t really…allow drinking.”

Gareth’s eyebrows shot up slightly, “Feel like that one of the few ways we can deal with this fucked world.”

You shrugged your shoulder, “Not saying we didn’t sneak it at times.”

“Ed didn’t give much detail on where you’d been all this time,” Gareth sighed, relaxing, and sinking more into his seat. “Was a little shocked to not see you still here when we finally got back.”

“Yeah, uh…” You cleared your throat a little, “We went south, you know…mom worked in the hospital, so she had a feeling before it all went down. Didn’t get far, most were stuck in Tennessee, were on our way back up actually…before…uh our camp got raided.”

“Shit,” Gareth cursed low beneath his breath, “Sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “We all lost someone, seems to sadly be a part of this new life.”

“You’d think the Flayed would be the biggest thing to fear now-a-days. But some fucking people out here are worst.”

You nodded your head and chuggd down the last of your drink, Eddie quickly reaching over to fill it once again.

“That is something I can heavily agree with,” You spoke, your eyes focused on the inside of your glass.

You grumbled low, slightly under your breath, but both men were able to hear you. Eddie shot a look toward Gareth as he opened his mouth, most likely to ask a question. But with the hard glare in Eddie’s eyes, Gareth closed his mouth quickly. There was a tension that fell over all of you for a moment.

“Enough of the glum,” Eddie spoke quickly, “Think we have enough of that going on. Let’s change the subject.”

“He tell you how much of a little cry baby he was in LA?” Gareth spoke with a smirk.

“I was not a fuckin’ crybaby,” Eddie spoke defensively.

“Mmmm, if Jeff and Sarah were here, they’d agree with me.” Gareth shook his head before looking toward you with a smirk, “All cause his bestie wasn’t with us, he was a sourpuss.”

“What can I say, I was the better best friend,” You smirked. For as long as you could remember, you and Gareth had a small competition over who was Eddie’s real ‘best friend’. This only caused Gareth to glare his eyes at you and Eddie to laugh out again.

“That is a lie and you know it,” Gareth defended

“Eddie? Wanna put your two senses in?” You smirked.

Eddie shook his head quickly, causing his dark curls to dance around his shoulders. “You know I love it when you fight over me.”

“Ugh, please, we are not here to inflate your already enormous ego.” You scoffed with false offense.

“Excuse me?” Eddie fiend offense.

“I will agree with you on that one, huge fuckin’ ego on this one,” Gareth spoke pointing to Eddie, “You’d think the end of the world would humble him.”

“That would be expecting way too much,” You giggled.

“I’m sitting right here!” Eddie shouted, which only caused you and Gareth to laugh harder.

It didn’t take long for the three of you to slip into old habits as you conversed and continued to pour one glass after another. Memories flowed through the tree of you quickly that only brought a stronger happiness to stick with you. Seeing the banter between Gareth and Eddie had you sitting in your chair giggling with the warmth of the whiskey in your stomach. As night fell over the camp, a chill moved through you, which quickly caught Eddie’s attention.

“Getting cold?” He spoke, “Shit, I’ll get some wood for a fire.”

“I’ll help.” You spoke, moving to stand, but Eddie was faster. He placed a hand on your shoulder to have you sink back down.

“You keep that ass in that chair, I’ve got it.” Eddie spoke, before looking over his shoulder to Gareth, “I’m gonna go get wood. Keep an eye on her?”

“I’m not a child,” You pouted.

That only caused Eddie to chuckle before he left toward the opposite side of the camp. You shivered again for a moment as you sunk deeper into your chair, a third glass of whiskey in your hand.

“He missed you; you know.” Gareth spoke suddenly, causing you to look at him. “He won’t really say it or show it. But Eddie was scared…up till the day he came running back saying he finally found you.”

“I would’ve come back here eventually, just took me some time.” You sad with a sadness in your voice.

Gareth’s brows pulled together slightly, “And no one blames you for that. I mean, we were in LA when it all went down. If he wasn’t the one waiting it would’ve been you.”

“He told me about Jeff,” You whispered with a sadness to your tone. “I’m sorry.”

Gareth’s lips pressed together as he slowly nodded his head, “Thanks. Sarah of course took it the hardest. Those two were still together and everything, took Eddie holding her back so she wouldn’t jump into the hoard to save him.”

“Fuck,” You whispered softly.

“I think that’s why it was so easy for them to get together, ya know?” Gareth continued before taking another drink of his glass.

“What?” You questioned, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Gareth questioned “He and Sarah…they were together up until a few weeks ago…well, till she died.” Your eyes widened and Gareth took your silence as a sign to continue. “It didn’t happen right away, but when he came back and saw you weren’t here…well…it just seemed to happen suddenly. They turned to one another for comfort.”

Eddie and Sarah, Sarah and Eddie. Your two best friends. The ones that you loved and trusted the most over most. A part of you couldn’t blame them. How were they to know? Jeff had died, you were presumed dead. But a larger part of you felt betrayed. And by someone you couldn’t express that anger to. Sarah was the only one to know how much Eddie meant to you. How much he was your person and that you loved deeply. It was Sarah that held you in high school whenever Eddie seemed to fawn over Chrissy Cunningham too much – she knew how your heart broke with each word. It was Sarah that tried to encourage you to concur your fears and finally tell Eddie that you were in love with him. Eddie, to your knowledge, might not’ve known your feelings.

But Sarah did.

“I’m gonna be sick,” You whispered, nearly dropping your glass, as you felt your stomach twist with nauseous.

“Woah, you gonna barf, dude?” Gareth spoke, moving to stand up as you stumbled slightly.

“I-I gotta go…” You whispered and finally caught your footing before moving away from Gareth and the small seating circle.

As you made your way away from him Gareth called after you, moving through the space to give chance. But with each call your name, you ignored him. But with your slightly drunk state you couldn’t get far or move fast. Also, you didn’t know your way around the camp. But a new voice joined in calling after you, a deeper voice that sent a chill up your spine.

“Woah, sweetheart,” Eddie spoke, catching up to you.

But the feel of his touch felt like fire against your skin, as you ripped it away from his touch. You stumbled back from the momentum and turned to face him. His face was washed with shock as he saw the anger in your eyes. Eddie rose his hands up in surrender as he looked down at you.

“W-Where are you going?” He asked, the clear confusion on his face.

“Away from here,” You spoke with a hard edge to your tone, you went to walk away from him again. But the anger bubbling within you won, causing you to turn back to him. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Sarah wasn’t here for you to lash out yet, so Eddie was gonna have to do.

“What?” He asked, his brows pulling together tighter.

“Did you think I wasn’t gonna find out?” You sneered. “About you and Sarah?”

Eddie felt his heart drop into his stomach, dark brown eyes widening. “W-What?”

“Gareth told me, how the two of you found comfort in the other. Did you think I wasn’t gonna find out and that’s why you didn’t tell me?” You asked, Eddie whispered your name softly and moved to take a step toward you. You moved two back away from him. “Don’t…”

Eddie hesitated for a moment, a flash of hurt quickly coming across his face. “I-I…I was gonna tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

“Just simply fuckin’ tell me!” You shouted “Why lie? Why keep it from me!?

Eddie closed his eyes and moved to rub his hand over his face, groaning deeply, before turning back to you. “It’s not that simple.”

“You told me she died pretty simply! Why not say you were fuckin’ her too?”

Eddie flinched back from your harsh words, and you felt wrong for a small moment. But it passed just as quickly as it came.

“I can’t believe this,” You shook your head, whispering mostly to yourself.

You turned away from him and started back toward the building that was lit softly against the nights sky. But a soft, almost whimpering, call of your name stopped you once more.

“Where are you going?” Eddie couldn’t help this sudden fear that you were leaving, and he wasn’t gonna see you again. It was like a fist clenched tight around his heart as he stared at the back of you.

You stopped, hesitated for a moment, before speaking without looking at him.

“Anywhere away from you.”

And then he stood and watched you walk away.

Ok, ok, left on a small angsty cliffhanger...kinda. I wouldn't drag out reader from finding out about Sarah and Eddie for long. The next part is gonna be a little tense with the Flayed coming back into play. Little tension cause reader is hurt and pissed. Rightfully so? What are your thoughts?

Leave a comment/thoughts

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[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Screw it, can we just get a script for part of an episode of A-town at this point?

[For those of you just tuning in: A-Town is the shitty postwar sitcom inspired by the life of Jake Berenson, to the eternal annoyance of Jake Berenson. The main character is a kid named Brandon A., who lives with his nuclear family — mom Dr. A, dad Mr. A, sister Daisy A. (secretly a yeerk named Zeptron 420), dog Mopsy (secretly Brandon's friends in morph) — in Southern California at the height of the war. Brandon secretly leads a team of alien-fighting shapeshifters that consists of him, his best friend J.J., his cousin Trina, his sometimes-girlfriend Crystal, Trina's sometimes-boyfriend Liam, and Liam's stepsister Gina.]

We open on the spacious kitchen of a large suburban home. Mr. A sits reading the paper and smoking a pipe inside, while his son Brandon sits at the same table with a large set of schematics spread out in front of him. Dr. A, in a lab coat overtop a house dress, walks into the room.

Dr. A: Brandon, what's that?

Brandon: *throws himself bodily over the map* Nothing!

[cue laugh track]

Dr. A: Is that... Dear sweet heavens above, it is!

[The camera pans up to show Brandon is clearly failing to cover the floor plan for a Blade ship, and that Mr. A is now craning around the side of his paper to see what the commotion is about.]

Dr. A: Honey, our son... is doing... *loud gasp* Dunces and Dragoons!

Mr. A: *drops his pipe on his paper in shock* *lights the paper on fire, must hastily tamp it out* Dungarees and Dingbats? My own SON?

[cue laugh track]

Brandon: Mom, Dad, I would never! I'm just... I'm only... It was... *directly to the camera* I have no choice — they think I'm playing Dunkin' and Dragnet! *to Dr. A.* There's this alien invasion, Mom, and me and cousin Trina are two of the only six people who have the power to —

Mr. A: *very high pitched* It's affecting his mind already! Look at him, he's lost the plot!

[Cut to a set that looks like the waiting room for a dentist's office. Brandon's older sister Daisy is standing near the front of a queue that stretches the length of the room. Like almost everyone else in line, she is wearing a t-shirt for The Gathering; hers is bright pink and cut into a crop-top, paired with a pink miniskirt and platform heels. The walls are adorned with posters that have slogans like "Do your part for the Yeerk Empire today! If you see a suspicious animal: slay, slay, SLAY!" and "Don't forget to sign up your host's friends and family for our Eternal Member perks program!" Visser Six-Hundred is at the front of the line, typing names into a computer.]

Visser Six-Hundred: Next!

Daisy: Um, hi? I'm Daisy, and after you guys lured me into the Gathering by promising I'd get to meet shirtless Tom Welling — which still hasn't happened, by the way — you stuck my head in a pool and then this total jerk named Zeptron 420 took my body? And anyway, Zeptron never showed up after that last feeding, and I was just wondering...?

Visser Six-Hundred: Not my problem.

Daisy: No, I get that Mr. Welling is a very busy man, but I don't think I'm supposed to go anywhere without Zeptron controlling me?

Visser Six-Hundred: Also not my problem. You have any idea how backed up we've been around here since the kandrona shortage started? Leave now, check back in next cycle, and if Zeptron's not back by then we'll call you.

Daisy: Okay, but...

[camera pans to Daisy's face; the actor, does a very convincing job of realization dawning on the world's silliest airhead]

Daisy: K-thanks-bye! *runs for it*

[Cut back to the A family kitchen. Dr. A is taking Brandon's temperature.]

Dr. A: Looks normal to me. Maybe he isn't getting Durkins and Drainage syndrome yet.

Mr. A: Yeah, if anyone has brain rot it's that darn dog. Thing ain't right, I'm telling you.

[Cut to Mopsy, a fluffy grey-and-white terrier. The dog is currently staring intently at a copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls, which is propped open on the floor.]

Dr. A: What do you mean, ain't right?

Brandon: Yeah, Dad, 'ain't' isn't a word!

[cue laugh track]

[Cut back to Mopsy, who has clearly overheard this conversation and has attempted to hide the book by sticking it underneath a laptop computer, and is playing innocent by staring at the screen instead.]

Mr. A: Just look at her! She's playing Minesweeper!

[The camera zooms in on the screen, revealing that this is in fact the case. An extreme close-up of one of the dog's paws moving across the computer track pad is paired with a shot of the screen going to Xs as she hits a mine. A dog's upset whine is heard.]

Brandon: Come on, she's not even doing well.

J.J.: *in voiceover meant to indicate thought-speak* You try avoiding mines with these tiny paws, loser!

Dr. A: You know, maybe we should get that checked out.

J.J.: VET? Not the vet!

Brandon: *out loud* Don’t be such a baby!  Get control of your morph, man!

Dr. A: Then again, maybe the Dungenous Drags are getting to him.

Brandon: Uh, I mean...

J.J.: *runs for it*  Bye!

Brandon: I mean, after her!

[While Dr. and Mr. A chase "Mopsy" around the house, J.J. maneuvers Brandon into being the only one in the room when he demorphs. Brandon has to hastily morph into Mopsy to avoid being found out. Trina and Liam stop by Brandon's house to ask Brandon a question, and Brandon maneuvers Liam into being Mopsy just as Mr. A is pulling out the pet carrier. But then human Trina rushes into the room, creating a diversion by claiming a "hairspray emergency", and Mopsy runs off. It's at that point that the B plot intersects with the A plot.]

[Daisy walks into the house. She's wearing black skinny jeans, fingerless gloves, and rainbow hair extensions. There's pop punk music blasting from the giant headphones slung around her neck.]

Mr. A: Get the— *watches Mopsy escape out the front door* Dang it!

Daisy: Dad, you might have noticed I’ve been going through some changes lately.  Like I’m becoming a whole different person.

Mr. A: Honey, at your age, it's perfectly normal.

[Mr. A pulls out a box of tampons, seemingly from nowhere, and hands them to Daisy.]

[cue laugh track]

[Liam-as-Mopsy runs around the side of the house, now pursued by J.J. Trina is running after J.J.; together they complete two entire loops of the house. Meanwhile, Brandon is on the phone inside, everyone else passing by in the background. There's presumably an unseen swap, because Liam-as-a-human is seen chasing a different Mopsy, pursued by an enraged-looking Trina who is now holding a knife, while she is in turn pursued by Gina, who appears to be trying to talk her down. There's no audible dialogue, but we cut to Crystal on the other end of the phone, standing in her living room.]

Crystal:... got it! *hangs up the phone* *yells up the stairs* Hey, Mom?

Crystal's Mom: *enters the room* Yes, Crystal?

Crystal: You're looking a little unwell. Why don't you...

[Crystal touches her mom's arm. We hear the tinkling piano notes used to indicate someone is being acquired, and glitter effects briefly fill the screen.]

Crystal's Mom: Now that you mention it...

[She passes out onto the couch, apparently as a side effect of being acquired. This has never happened before, but with this show it's generally best to avoid asking too many questions.]

[Cut back to the A house. Daisy and Dr. A are standing in the kitchen.]

Daisy: Mom, do you ever feel like the whole world's out to get you? Like, do you ever suspect there's a giant conspiracy of alien invaders who are...

Dr. A: *distracted* Oh honey, did you get passed up to be Prom Queen again?

[Dr. A drops a kiss on Daisy's head, before running off in pursuit of Mopsy, who has gotten ahold of the knife and is trying to use it to pick the lock on the back door.]

[Cut to the exterior, where Liam and Brandon are watching the knife blade repeatedly stab through the door six inches off the ground.]

Brandon: You cheated on her again?

Liam: *sighs* Yeah, I cheated on her again.

[Cut back to the interior. Cue ominous music, as the chase speeds up. We see Trina-as-human again, gloating over who we can only assume is Liam-as-Mopsy. They struggle, and she makes an exaggerated face of shock as the dog is meant to have bitten her. Mopsy goes running off again, only to be caught by J.J. There's a scuffle, they roll behind the bushes, and a human Liam emerges holding J.J.-as-Mopsy. Brandon comes running outside with an expression of horror, and Gina dive-tackles both Liam and J.J.-as-Mopsy. Using extreme close-ups, we get only tiny hints of the scuffle, but the human J.J. and Liam would suggest that Gina has now ended up as Mopsy.]

[The montage sequence becomes something straight out of Scooby Doo, with all of the characters sprinting between doors and various mini-encounters including one where two copies of Mopsy are seen backing into each other and yapping in horror, running off in opposite directions before Dr. A can see their error. Why anyone is bothering to morph the dog at all remains an open question.]

[The montage ends with a clang as Mr. A shuts the door of the pet carrier on a Mopsy. The camera pans to a scratched and dirt-covered Brandon, then Trina, then Liam, then Gina... It's J.J. in the pet carrier. As the camera pushes toward J.J.'s fluffy little face frozen in an expression of horror, there's a smash cut to Crystal-as-Crystal's-mom standing in a vet's office talking to a middle-aged woman.]

Crystal: No, I did not lose your hamster — I know exactly where he is. I left him in the same room as Mr. Tyrus's ball python, and... *leans around a door frame to look off camera* *winces at what she sees*

Middle-Aged Extra: Y-yes?

Crystal: You can still see him... He's that big lump right in the middle...

Middle-Aged Extra: *screams* *faints*

Crystal: *to the camera* Brandon better hurry up. If she thinks that's bad, she should see what I did to the parrot.

Parrot: *off camera* And f[bleep] you too, you [bleep] [bleep] [bleep]!

[J.J.-as-Mopsy gets loaded into the car. The music is getting ominous, and all is looking lost, when suddenly Daisy runs out in front of the minivan.]

Daisy: Mom, Dad, I can't take it anymore! I've had someone inside me, and his name is Zeptron!

[Thus, the day is saved and J.J. is snatched from the jaws of a routine pelvic exam by Mr. and Dr. A cutting the vet visit short to instead rush Daisy to the doctor for remedial Sex Ed. Only Brandon realizes what she's talking about, judging by the expression on his face, but the camera doesn't linger there. Instead we see the minivan pull up to the vet at top speed. Mr. A gets out only long enough to thrust the pet carrier into the arms of Crystal-as-Crystal's-mom, and then the car drives off. It screeches to a stop at a near-identical office, only the poster of a dog wearing a stethoscope out front has become a poster of a uterus wearing a stethoscope. Dr. A walks in, dragging Daisy by the arm and shaking her head.]

[Cut back to the vet's office, where J.J.-as-Mopsy licks Crystal-as-Crystal's-mom on the cheek. Cue laugh track. Cue awww sounds.]

[As the credits fill half the screen, we get one last scene of Brandon standing outside Daisy's door. He's obviously nervous, rehearsing a conversation. Brandon leans against Daisy's door and it swings open, causing him to stumble into the room. Cue laugh track.]

Brandon: Hey, Daisy? About what you said earlier...

[Daisy is sitting with her back to the camera. When she does turn around, we get a slow reveal that she's back in pancake makeup, blond hair, and a pink sundress. She has the Myspace page for The Gathering open on the computer in front of her.]

"Daisy": *long pause* Yes, Brandon? You are my human brother, and I am happy to assist.

Brandon: Uh. *slow close-up on his face, as he clearly realizes what has happened* Never mind.

"Daisy": *another long pause* I'm sorry to hear that, Brandon. Human minds are often imperfect, are they not?

[cue laugh track]

[credits fill the screen]

Announcer: DON'T GO AWAY, WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK

[fablesrose]

Ch 8 - The Three Days of the Hunter Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team is vying to steal a man's reputation back after a so called reporter ruins it. Plus you and Eliot team up a bit this time around ;)

Words: 4132

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now we’ve stolen a lot of odd things before, but how do we steal back a man’s reputation?” Hardison asked after the situation was explained to us. A man in a tragic school bus crash that killed two children had a slanderous story written about him and showed on air. It ruined this man’s reputation unfairly, and the news anchor is to blame for making it all up.

“We get the network to issue a complete apology and utterly disavow Monica Hunter’s story,” Sophie answered. 

We all glanced at Nate to see if he was going to add anything, to direct us in some way, but he didn’t. He just said, “Uh, Sophie’s gonna be doing this one.”

“What?” Eliot asked.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Sophie echoed, “I’m gonna be Nate on this one, only, you know, nicer.” 

“But, if you’re gonna be Nate, then who’s gonna be you?” Parker asked.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I don’t mean to obsess about the last time Sophie ran a con, but…” Eliot cut in, “I’m sorry, where we had to blow up the offices.”

“I don’t think you guys told me about that one…” I commented.

“Really? Because I don’t remember that,” Sophie defended.

“I do,” Hardison replied before turning to me, “It’s a sore spot… for all of us.”

I nodded, raising my hands with understanding.

“Um, Hardison, just run it,” Sophie tried to move on.

“Look, if you don’t mind,” Nate leaned over and whispered to Sophie, “I thought I would still do the ‘Hardison, run it’ thing so… Hardison, run it.”

We all looked at each other and at Nate with a look that said, ‘seriously?’ It took a moment before Hardison started the slides. He started explaining Monica Hunter’s show Hunt for the Truth and her little formula behind it, turning innocent people into the boogeyman. Any attempts at suing get buried in lawyers. I added in a few details from my own research on her as well. 

“Yeah, she demonizes perfectly innocent people for ratings, and then stands behind the network thinking they’re gonna protect her,” Sophie summarizes, “We’re gonna sever that relationship.”

“How?” I asked.

“We’re gonna get her to go on air with a fake story that just destroys her reputation,” Sophie explained. 

“Like when you find a crooked cop,” Eliot adds, “you know, all his cases go right out the window.”

“Exactly,” Sophie stands at the front of the room, “And then to protect themselves, they issue an apology to Mr. Pennington, and then they throw Monica Hunter into the jaws of the very media machine that she bent to her own malicious will.”

“Wow,” Parker comments, “I gotta say, Sophie’s briefings are much more dramatic.”

“And poetic,” Eliot adds.

“You see, what we need to do though,” Nate said, finding it hard to leave things alone, “what we need is, we gotta sell her a fake news story that she can’t refuse.” He walked to the front of the room, overtaking Sophie, “That’s what we gotta do, because what does she have? She has fame, she has money, what does she need?”

Sophie cleared her throat, setting him back on track to apologize and sit on the couch.

Sophie continued, “what does she have? She has fame, she has money, what does she need?”

I rolled my eyes with a huff before actually contemplating the question. Once I did, I quickly came to a conclusion, “Respect. Anyone with two eyes and a working brain thinks she’s a joke, an absolute dumpster fire. Let alone serious journalists.”

Hardison pointed at me in agreement, “Right. Look, these are emails from her agent and internal memos from the network.” He pulled them up on the screen, “See, everytime her contract’s up, she tries to go and get a job on a serious news show, but she gets laughed out of the room every time.”

“We can’t sell her respect,” Nate said.

“But we can sell her a story that commands respect,” Sophie remedied. “A story that she’s gonna chase to get the respect she craves. Pack your bags everyone. We’re going to D.C. to make news.”

We all watched her, inspired, but not sure what to do next.

“That’s when you wanna…” Nate gestured to walk away dramatically like he always does. 

“Let me do that bit again,” Sophie said, “Pack your bags everyone. We’re going to D.C. to make news.” She then walked out of the living room.

“She’s walking into the closet,” Nate pointed out.

We shrugged, but figured that was our cue to get a move on. 

After we arrived in D.C. Parker was sent in to make the first contact with the mark.

“I got the pass. Easy.”

“Parker, we went over this,” Sophie told her over comms, “You’re not supposed to take it. You’re supposed to get caught with it.”

“I don’t know how to get caught.”

“Yeah, I know it’s difficult to steal badly, just… just try.”

“Why isn’t y/n doing this part?”

“Because,” I answered, “I have about the same amount of confidence in acting and conning as you do Parker, if not less, and I don’t know how to steal at all. It’s easier to teach one skill at a time.”

“Fine.”

After some rustling and loud noises, Parker was finally ‘caught.’ After being confronted by Monica, Parker fled out of the building, of which she followed. Parker strung her along for a minute before disclosing what story she had, and why she needed Monica’s press credentials. 

“I have a story that will bring down… the president of the United States.”

I was waiting with Eliot for our cue to intimidate Monica and lead her to believe that something serious was going on. We stood in suits around the corner from our apartment that Hardison was waiting in with his conspiracy theory. I kept fidgeting with my suit as we waited for Parker to arrive with Monica. 

“Quit messing with it,” Eliot told me after I pulled at my sleeve again.

I looked over at him to see him messing with his tie, “Hypocrite.” I swatted his hands away and straightened it myself, avoiding his eyes that I could feel on me. 

“Are you nervous? We have a five second part, you don’t even have to say anything,” He said after I pulled away.

“Well the goal is to be intimidating, and I don’t think I am very intimidating,” I paused and deliberately straightened my coat, “and I’ve never been much of a blazer person.”

He chuckled, “okay, give me your intimidating look, let me judge it.”

I groaned, “It’s gonna be so bad, especially compared to yours.”

He nodded, urging me to do it.

“Fine,” I gave him my best glare, trying to be intimidating.

“That’s good,” he said, “but looks very intentional and almost forced, you want it to look effortless.”

I sighed, “how do I do that?”

“Give me a deadpan, annoyed look.”

My face relaxed as I obeyed him. 

He gently straightened my head as it had tilted to the side and directed my sight directly at him and his eyes. “Okay, now clench your jaw a bit and give me a tiny squint,” he looked at me for a moment while I adjusted my expression, “well, you look pretty intimidating right now, but I don’t know if it’d work on anyone with taste…”

I furrowed my brow at him before he finished.

“I think you look too good.”

That left me speechless and blushing. 

He smirked at me a bit before we heard Nate through the comms, “Eliot are you-”

“I have to warn you about my source,” Parker cut in, talking to Monica, “He doesn’t like strangers.”

That cued us to get closer so we could reveal ourselves when Monica was about to leave. We heard her dismiss Hardison and Parker, so we started our walk down the hallway. I positioned myself on the corner facing Monica directly when she opened the door leaving Eliot to walk past me, make eye contact with her and slowly turn around. She looked between the both of us before all three of us retreated to where we came from. 

We listened as Hardison and Parker sold Monica the story and then she left, talking to her coworker about stealing the story right from under Parker’s nose. Eliot and I smiled at each other as we walked into the apartment.

“Hunter’s hooked,” Eliot said as we walked in, joining the others.

“Our mark has a story and a source. We halfway home,” Hardison said. 

“Now for the hard part,” Sophie said, “We need to steal a general.”

“No,” Nate corrected, “it's ‘let’s go steal a general.’ You know, it's a rallying cry.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“‘We need to steal a general,’ it’s a little naggy. It’s kinda like ‘we need eggs,’ you know? ‘We need eggs.’” He repeated, emphasizing how low energy it was, “‘We need eggs!’ You know?”

Sophie just rolled her eyes and walked away.

“No, I’m just trying to give you a little…”

“You see what you did,” Hardison told Nate, following Sophie. 

“Eliot, these conspiracies aren’t real right?” Parker asked. 

“What do you mean?” He asked back. 

“Like the one over there that says all the major wars of the past fifty years were ordered by members of The Council.”

I looked over at the wall and back at them, suddenly intrigued by his answer.

“Parker, I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you,” he answered before walking away and following the other two.

“You’re not a member of The Council are you?” Parker asked humorously before becoming more serious, “Eliot?” She turned towards me and Nate, “Is he?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, following the others. 

I quickly followed, before Parker could pry even more.  

Nate quickly turned towards me when I caught up, “By the way, was Eliot flirting with you before?” He didn’t let me answer before walking after him, “Eliot!”

Parker was still chasing after us, “Wait, is he?”

Later, I watched from a distance as Eliot distracted a general and lifted his badge, allowing Nate to take his place for a little while. 

“Alright, you guys have got to teach me some of this thievery thing,” I whined quietly, “How’d you lift that so smoothly Eliot?”

I could hear the smirk in his voice, “It’s all about practice sweetheart.”

“Eliot, don’t call my niece that,” Nate remarked through the comms. 

“He can call me what he likes, Nate. We’re all friendly here,” I replied, sending a playful eye roll at Eliot as he approached me.

“I don’t care, get ready for the walk by you two. Parker, what’s your 20?”

“Seconds away.”

Parker was asking Monica questions as they walked up the steps towards Nate’s newly acquired office. As they reached the top, Eliot and I walked somewhat near them, deliberately making eye contact with Monica. We walked a little ways apart and at a slightly different trajectory to suggest we weren’t there together, but close enough for Monica to get the picture that we were both there for her. I walked almost directly towards her and gently bumped her shoulder as I walked by, to send a bit of a message. 

“I knew it,” Monica said to Parker once I had passed out of earshot, “We’ve got a shadow.”

I smiled as the pass was successful, then left to prepare for the next phase, listening as Monica half interviewed Nate as a general and found incriminating evidence in his office. 

What we didn’t expect was Monica blowing off the story due to her ratings. She said that she sold fear to her viewers, to give them “a reason to lock their doors.” And this story didn’t do that. 

This prompted Sophie to up her game, “Alright, she wants fear…” Sophie concludes, “that’s what we’ll give her.”

This made me nervously look at Nate and Eliot who sat in the apartment with us. 

“This is how it starts,” Nate commented, which didn’t make me feel better. 

The next ploy was to hit Parker with a car. This task was given to me.

“Is there any trick to this where I don’t actually kill Parker?” I asked Eliot who was in the passenger seat.

“Just drive straight at her, she’ll do the rest,” he answered simply.

“Alright, if you say so,” I proceeded to drive at her and cringed as she jumped and rolled over the hood to make it look like I hit her. I threw the car in park and stepped out of the car, watching our surroundings, making sure my expression was stoic. 

Eliot got out and checked Parker making it look like he was looking for something. He eventually found a red folder, grabbed it, and returned to the car. We both got back in and I drove off quickly.

“Was she okay?” I asked him.

He nodded, “Yeah, she seemed fine. Parker, check in once you’re clear.”

I listened as Hardison spoke to Monica, and led her away from Parker’s “dead” body. He hooked her on this even bigger development, and led her to meet with Nate. 

After that she responded, “I’m good, let’s go.” 

I drove around the block and picked her up on a corner away from the crowd, Hardison, and Monica. 

She got in the back seat and grabbed Eliot and I’s shoulders, “that was great! We should do that more often.”

Eliot looked over at me as I smiled a bit in relief, “See? Told ya, she’s fine.”

We rendezvoused at the apartment and listened as Nate spun Monica a story about nerve agents in the water, and how what used to be secret prisons, were actually safehouses for the rich and powerful. Nate gave her a call to action and let her loose. 

We observed as she tried to contact her sources, all of which Hardison artfully manipulated technologically to seem like they confirmed Monica’s fears about the story, even if not directly. It got to the point that we were watching her on the station’s security cameras and she was running around, clearly paranoid out of her mind. 

“Now that’s what I call control,” Sophie said.

“Yeah, we might’ve, uh, pushed too hard,” Nate commented. 

Sophie scoffed, “please.”

Then there was a knock at the door. And that knock belonged to Monica Hunter. We all dashed into the other room before Hardison answered the door. We listened as Monica insisted on getting video footage of the bunkers and took Hardison with her to help get it.

Once they were gone we exited the side room.

“Too much,” Parker commented.

“A little bit,” Eliot added sarcastically, taking a large swig of his beer. 

Nate raced after them to meet them at something that could look like a bunker at the army reserve base. The rest of us monitored from the apartment. Where things took a turn for the worst was when Monica went as far as climbing over the fence into a restricted area and Hardison followed her. This led to both of them being captured.

“Glass half full,” Sophie said once we looked at her, “she really buys the bunker story…”

We listened as Monica and Hardison were separated into interrogation rooms. Hardison tried to talk himself out of it by saying that Monica was taking him back to her place and he was just along for the ride. We heard the officer say hold on before Hardison started speaking to us. 

“Get me out of here,” Hardison demanded.

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Sophie replied.

“I’m on it,” Parker said, walking out of the side room.

Sophie jumped up to stop her, “No, no, no, you cannot go. You’re dead,” she reminded, “Monica Hunter sees you and the whole con is blown.”

“Right,” she conceded. 

“Damn the con,” Hardison said, “I am a black man caught on an army base with a video camera. I am going to jail forever,” he finished with a squeak. 

“Yeah, look, Nate’s the only one close enough to get you,” Sophie explained. 

“But Nate’s five minutes away and still trying to figure out how he’s gonna walk two prisoners off an army base using an ID that’s already been reported stolen. No, you guys, we’re gonna have to stall,” Nate added. 

“Stall?” Hardison asks in disbelief, before asking, “Y/n, Eliot, get me everything you can on a Lieutenant Abbot. Just do what I taught you.”

I pulled the computer close to me to start typing while Eliot reminded me what to do. Eliot also started to aggravate Hardison in the process.

“Now the http thing comes before the w-w-w dot, right?”

“Eliot!” Hardison whisper-yelled.

“And which one’s the forward slash?” I asked helpfully, typing away easily. 

“It ain’t the time, you two, it ain’t the time.”

“See?” Eliot replied, “It’s not fun when you’re hanging out there in the wind and there’s a dude behind a laptop cracking jokes, is there?”

“I like it when we switch jobs,” Parker comments, happily playing with a gas mask, “It’s exciting.”

We all looked over at her skeptically before I turned back to the laptop to continue my research, with the help of some of Hardison’s software. Eliot and I relayed what we found to Hardison and let him loose to do what he saw fit with the info.

“Sir, I need to know why you’re on this base,” we heard the officer say. 

“Yes.” Hardison replied, “Why am I on this base?”

“I’m asking you.”

“No, I’m asking you,” Hardison insisted, “Why am I on this base? Why am I in this room?”

“So I can ask you questions.”

“Or maybe, it's so I can ask you questions, Lieutenant Kyle Abbot, Social Security 823-24-6270?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“Maybe you’re not cleared to know. Two disciplinary actions? That one in Germany?” Hardison tsked, “Maybe you’re just too much of a security risk.” There was a moment before Hardison slammed the table, making me jump in my seat, “Did I say you could leave?”

It seemed he had it under some control. Now onto getting Nate in there. 

“Not gonna work,” Nate said. 

“It’s all in the salute, man,” Eliot replied. 

“Just work the stars and bars,” Sophie added, “Nobody wants to look a general in the eye.”

Nate must have come to the checkpoint as he said in his gruff general voice, “Uh, good form soldier, as you were.”

We heard a distant, “clear,” which had me sigh in relief. He was in. There was a minute or two of silence as he made his way to the base before we heard someone speak. 

“Mine appears to be insane.”

“No, not insane,” Nate cut in, “just a reporter. Well congratulations, gentlemen. This base has passed with, uh, flying colors. Well done.”

“Uh, passed what, sir?”

“Have you not been briefed? You were supposed to be briefed. The Department of Defense has decided to, uh, reassure the American people about, uh, the safety of their military bases. So we’ve agreed to cooperate with the network and make a television special, you know, to show off just how effective our security is.”

“They were pretty easy to catch, sir.”

“Well, for you. But in Camp Monroe in Idaho, those two were signing their names on nukes with shiny silver pens.” He chuckled, “turn ‘em loose now and I’ll get ‘em out of your hair.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Alright, let’s go. Sorry to waste your time gentlemen. Very well done there.”

I held my breath, they were so close to getting out. I heard a shake of a pill bottle. 

“Oh, trimethylxanthine, thank you,” we heard Monica say.

“That just slows down the effect of the toxin. Hopefully long enough for you to get the truth out.”

“How did you find us?”

“Are you kidding me? Famous reporter shows up at one of the bunkers, sets off alarms all over the city. We’re gonna be lucky if we get out in one piece, I’ll tell you that.”

“We’ll split up,” Hardison suggests. 

“No,” Monica insisted, but Nate overruled her.

“Yes, your car’s still parked over by the fence. You pick it up and we’ll meet back at the apartment.”

“We’ll gather the evidence and we’ll meet at the studio,” Monica added. 

We listened as they sped off, but it sounded like they got free. 

“Whoo!” I cheered, slapping Eliot’s shoulder who still sat next to me in front of the computer. “Nate I know you can’t talk right now with her there, but I don’t know how you just lied out of your ass so well. In an Army base no less!”

“Ah, he was fine,” Eliot said.

“Well, if it’s a family trait, I don’t think I inherited it.”

“Like I said, it’s just practice.”

“You’ll learn y/n,” Sophie told me, “We’ll teach you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Don’t have to, you’ve already improved over the last few jobs we’ve done. You’ll be out there grifting in no time,” she insisted. 

I smiled at her thankfully. There wasn’t much time to celebrate though as they were making their way back to the apartment. We packed up everything, our supplies, the photo wall, everything. It left an astonishingly bare apartment, just in time for Monica’s arrival.

“Where did it go? The photos. The maps,” we heard Monica say through Nate’s comm, “Where’s Wade Perkins?” She asked, referring to Hardison. “Thank God, the red file,” she found the only thing left in the room.

That was Eliot and I’s cue to walk in from the side room, dressed in heavy aprons and heavy duty gloves.

“Pardon me,” Eliot said to Monica softly, but it had an edge to it. 

“We were just cleaning up,” I explained, trying to match his tone. 

“We hunt for the truth,” Nate said, bringing the attention to him, “through many dark places. I am a patriot, Ms. Hunter. I’m sorry.” He turned to Eliot, “Earl.”

Monica then sprayed Nate with pepper spray and ran off. I followed her for a few steps before turning back to Nate as he yelled in pain. 

Eliot laughed a bit as he patted his back, “good thing Parker switched that with water.”

“Didn’t. Didn’t switch,” Nate choked out.

“Oh, oh no,” I cringed, starting to smell the spray. “Let’s get that washed out, it's gonna hurt for a bit…”

Once we got Nate as cleaned up as possible, we turned on the TV to watch as Monica humiliated herself on live television. Hardison was there at the station making sure it all went through. She looked psychotic as she told her story and it was a welcome surprise when the police arrived and arrested her. The anchor immediately broke the story of Monica Hunter’s psychotic break as she was being dragged off the set behind her. 

It wasn’t too long after the story aired that we were back in my apartment. We had a laptop propped on the counter showing an interview of our client, happy to have his good name back after Monica Hunter’s fall from grace. I was helping Eliot prep dinner, the whole team there to celebrate. 

“See, Ray was the beginning,” Nate said after the interview ended, “I’m telling you, every person that Hunter slandered is going to get a second chance.”

“Loch Ness Monster,” Parker held up the infamous photo, grilling Eliot on other conspiracy theories. 

“Loch Ness submarine,” Hardison replied.

“No!”

“Scottish waters are cold and deep. It’s the perfect place to test,” Eliot replied, barely looking up from his cutting board. 

“Area 51.”

Hardison and Eliot contradicted each other on that one with Hardison saying no and Eliot, yes. 

“She said Area 51, 51,” Hardison insisted.

“I’m sorry,” Eliot corrected, “False. Area 52.”

“Been there,” Hardison commented. 

“Yup.”

I laughed softly to myself from my own cutting board. 

Eliot heard me, “What, you got an opinion over there, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call her that,” Nate said before sitting next to Sophie. 

I ignored him, replying to Eliot, “No, you would know better than me. Now tell me if these veggies are okay.”

He turned from his cutting board to peer over my shoulder, “cut them just a little bit smaller, then they’ll be perfect.” 

And just like that he was gone, but I could still feel his breath brush my cheek. I blushed and my mind went blank, trying to decipher what he said for a moment before it caught up to the instructions. I shook my head, trying not to think about how it would feel to have him closer. 

I took a deep breath before doing as he asked, because that was something I could do, something I could focus on. 

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle @technikerin23

[sikeydelic]

the meow meows playing minecraft :3

plus headcanons because i need to get this out of my brain:

-fyodor would only want to do speedruns or hardcore— he finds minecraft so boring without the challenge. he doesn't care about speedrun.net that much because, if he really wanted to be at the top of that list, he could probably bribe and hack his way in pretty easily. definitely the one out of the three who plays the most (total epic gamer). sometimes (usually because nikolai asks him to) fyodor will hack servers and cause chaos for a little bit before he gets banned (for, like, the 300th time). probably knows how to make super complicated redstone shit but he hardly ever does. favorite biomes: plains, deserts, warped forests

-nikolai causes destruction everywhere he goes. when playing on servers hes a griefer, and when he plays alone/with his friends he just tortures every mob imaginable. prefers to play in creative, and will fly/glide around exploding stuff. he sets villages on fire and watches all the villagers scream and run around in pain and then laughs really loud about it. makes pits of animals that are so densely packed they start dying. he also stretches the game to its limit, spawning in so much stuff that it completely glitches out. the kinda guy to make a huge wolf army also. can entertain himself with this for a little while, but eventually he gets bored and goes to do something else. favorite biomes: coral reefs, nether wastelands, plains

-sigma never plays, but sometimes fyodor and nikolai are playing and he thinks it might be fun. definitely the "what's (insert basic minecraft thing)" to fyodor's "you dont know (insert basic minecraft thing)??????" never got the game explained to him (fyodor and nikolai both immediately ran off to do their own thing) and kept dying over and over. everyone got annoyed at him asking "how do i sprint?" "guys wait why cant i get over this (jump)" "whats this weird green thing why is it hissing at me" "how do i craft an axe" etc. eventually he figured it out and became a builder, every time they played making really cute little houses. always has at least two dogs and one cat that he cares for a lot. probably builds a farm but then gets too attached to the animals to actually kill them. prefers to have long lasting saves in easy mode that he'll build cooler and cooler builds on. eventually tries to recreate the sky casino. uses aesthetic shaders and always has really nice looking skins. favorite biomes: lush caves, flower forests, taiga.

the chat would just be like

<NIKOLAIAIAI> EEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAA

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Getting an Upgrade]

<NIKOLAIAIAI> AHUVORNWH[BREOWJRBOEJRNBFNN[RVJEFF EKSN H

sigma1111 hit the ground too hard

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Acquire Hardware]

<sigma1111> im confusd what just happened\

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Diamonds!]

<NIKOLAIAIAI> dieded

<sigma1111> qwat

sigma1111 tried to swim in lava to escape zombie

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Nether]

[couchcandy]

Psych x Community ??

I love psych and i love community so this vague concept of them existing in the same universe has been floating around in my head. 

The key connecting factor being the references to Shawn/Britta’s similarly eclectic off-screen pasts. They're close in age so I'm like okay - it would totally be possible for them to have known eachother/dated/whatever at some point before. 

psych aired from 2006 - 2014; Shawn born 1977

community aired from 2009 -2014; Britta born 1980

(Take these two quotes just as an example but it's referenced casually throughout both shows)

Britta’s Dad: I mean, every time we get too close, you run off. We sent you a birthday card to your apartment in New York, and the next week you’re setting fire to a Jamba Juice in San Jose.

Britta: How long is that gonna stick with me?

Britta’s Mom: Until arson is legal, sweetie.

Gus: Shawn, you’ve had fifty-seven jobs since we left high school.

Shawn: Yes I have. And they were all fun. But this one takes the cake.

Gus: Oh yeah? Better than the acupuncture clinic?

Shawn: I didn’t realize experience was necessary.

Gus: What about the summer you spent driving the weiner mobile?

Shawn: I did that for the hot dogs.

I think they fit somewhere in the ballpark of each other's types, both sluts(affectionate) and it makes sense for them to have crossed paths at some point during Britta's “anhercists” days. 

So that establishes a link between the groups, but what would it be like if they interacted? Take the arbitrary scenario; Shawn and Gus have gotten themselves and by extension the SBPD into another whacky shenanigan somehow who cares how i'm not writing this

I imagine initially everyone in the study group has a more or less positive impression of Shawn because he's charming, (with the notable exception of…you got it! Jeff)

JEFF

In typical jeff fashion is immediately threatened by Shawn because he has to be the coolestmostlikeabledude™ in the room at all times while simultaneously has to act like he doesn't care so he's quietly seething and - hey what's this new dude doing here making all my friends laugh that's my job! i must now make it my life's mission to prove this guys a fraud and reclaim my status no matter how much a fool i make of myself in the process (a la: advanced documentary filmmaking)

BRITTA

Normal standard “hey old friend” situation, remember when we *insane thing involving multiple felonies and property destruction* haha anyway let me introduce you to my friends - 

ANNIE

immediate skepticism that Shawn is able to sidestep pretty quickly by being charming/flirty (NOT in a gross way *hisses at the jeffannie shippers*) Her reaction being like when the dean “swaps bodies with jeff” or after abed’s don draper impression.

ABED

Knows Shawn isn't really psychic but goes along with it/doesn’t point out that Shawn’s hyper observant because he's invested in watching the psychic/cop show formula play out. He would! and I would too!

(quote from 5x03 Basic Intergluteal Numismatics):

Abed Nadir: [Pretending to read the crime scenes as a psychic] I see a man... using a social disorder as a procedural device. Wait, wait, wait, I see another man. Mildly autistic super detectives everywhere.

TROY

Obligatory: “you’re wrinkling my brain right now” and just general fascination, awe, and wonderment. Asks Shawn to tell him his future

SHIRLEY

Immediate judgment on Shawn's practices not being christian enough for her standards, but easily swayed to liking him once he picks up on something and comments on her ex husband being an idiot to lose her or something

PEIRCE

Does his peirce thing and tries to seem impressive and fails, something level five laser lotus blah blah - u get it thats enough on him 

THE DEAN

Is facilitating the psych crew being there because it might bring in good press for greendale and he def does the hand on shoulder thing when he meets him you know the one - omg and totally is into Lassiter furrowed brows “im packing heat” Carlton, please. – lassie is Not Amused™ 

CHANG

This depends on what point in community canon this interaction takes place because season 1 chang would prob be normal(for him), but like season 5 Chang would do/say something so insane and so chang that i can't even come up with it

As for our psych guys, Gus points out how weird and fucked up and bizarre Greendale is meanwhile Shawn is LIVING for it - signs them up for the Dean’s PA announcements class, and “Gus! buddy! I hope you don't mind. I used your credit card to sign us up for The History of Ice Cream. Come on, it starts in 20 minutes ! :D” Gus: “Shawn! >:0”

Lassie would just nonstop point out all the health and safety violations- he doesn't want to be here- calls a lot of people hippies, generally grumpy demeanor and we love him for it.

Starburns terribly hits on Jules - gets rejected, proceeds to try and sell her drugs - gets arrested.

[devnmon]

A Familiar Notion.

Chapter Two: Written in My Stars

Summary: Just another day in the apocalypse with the Dixon brothers. Daryl and Merle continue to try and find a better place for them to stay, instead of being on the run for days on end.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter warnings: typical twd violence, walkers, scary situations

wc: 2.6k

After he'd returned to camp, Daryl shacked in with his brother for the night, hoping to stay alive to another day.

The next morning, Daryl continued his travels with Merle, finding some wild veggies to cook up with the usual squirrel they had each night. He gathered all the ripe tomatoes, cucumbers and red bell peppers he could find.

Paired with the squirrel Daryl had caught again, it made for a hearty meal to sustain the two for the long journey the brothers were making today. With their campsite packed up once again, Daryl and Merle set out for their travels.

The thicker they went into the forest, the more geeks came across their path. Each one that trampled towards the brothers was at a different stage of decomposition, snarling and covered in blood from what could have only been from others, since dead people don't bleed.

“Oh damn, that’s what those things look like? They’re uglier than hell.” Merle's walker experience is little to none, and Daryl views the visual disgust in his brother as they keep sauntering forward.

This being his first time seeing a walker makes him stand still for a second, Daryl behind him, watching it get closer.

“The hell you doin’?”

His eyes followed the walker treading close to his brother, ready at any moment's notice to fire an arrow into its brain, something holding him back.

Merle acts before he’s given the chance, taking off running towards the walking corpse and pushing it into the ground. He's laying several blows onto its torso, before Daryl realizes that Merle doesn’t know how to actually kill walkers.

He’s never had to before.. huh. Explains a lot.

Before he knows it, Daryl’s taken a few steps forward to where his brother is and calls out to him.

“Merle! Get up!”

The moment the brothers eyes meet each other, Daryl can read the uncertainty on Merle’s face like a book. It’s an expression he doesn’t see in his brother of all people, even on rare occasions. Merle pushes the walker away again before getting up and leaving Daryl to deal with it. The arrow loaded in his bow flies through the air, piercing through its decaying skull, falling to the ground. He saunters over to it, hand wrapping around the thin wood to retrieve his arrow.

A moment passes and Daryl looks up, seeing Merle staring down at him.

With a grunt, he treads past him. Each time he’d lift his feet, they felt heavy, like weights around his ankles.

“You could at least say thanks..” He mutters under his breath, knowing even if Merle heard him, he wouldn’t be on the receiving end of gratitude. Daryl is a few feet away from his brother when he finally catches up to him, voice somewhat irritated in the fact that he’d just saved his brother’s life.

“Ho-how’d you know how to put those things down?”

“Saw one the other night. ya gotta get the brain. That’s how they go down, not the body. Ain’t like those tweekers you used to fight. Ain’t nowhere close to that.” Daryl thinks he hears his brother snicker under his breath at what he’s said, but isn’t reassured fully until he speaks.

“Oh yeah, little brother. You got that right. For once.” He laughs again, chuckling for a few more seconds before more geeks are trailing onto their path. Again, Merle rushes forward, but glances back to Daryl before plunging his knife into the side of one’s head. Daryl’s arrows take down about six or seven more before a while passes, realizing the herd hasn't minimized at all.

"What is this, some kinda parade? Huh? They let all the geeks out of one place, or what? Why's there so damn many comin' outta nowhere?!" Merle grunted, yanking his knife from the skull out of one of them.

"Maybe they're bein' drawn from someplace or somethin'... Ah hell man, I got no clue! There's too damn many for us to keep goin' like this!" Daryl started pushing the dead ones into each other, toppling over onto the ground in a pile, making a run through the opening he'd made and darted around what was left of them. Merle followed hastily, almost toppling over a couple of them on the ground.

Soon, the stench of all the walking corpses on their tail was the only thing Daryl had in his mind, that and the fact that he had to keep running if he wanted to stay alive. Leaves crunched under the burning soles of his feet now, his bow and pack bounced against the muscles of his back.

Soon enough, the trees thinned and came to a clearing on the side of an abandoned road. Daryl glanced behind him, to see if his brother still followed, before going further.

To avoid being seen by anyone possibly on the road, he crouched down, knees hitting the dirt before spotting his older brother not too far behind him, signaling to the road they'd come upon.

"We lose that herd?" Daryl spoke with a whisper to his brother.

"Yeah, but not for long.. I cut 'em off at the pass. Just a matter of time before they find us again. We gotta get outta here. Maybe one of these cars has enough gas for us to high tail it to someone's camp." Merle chuckled to himself, still amused at the fact that Daryl agreed to his plan in the first place.

He'd glanced behind him again, calculating how much time they would have, crouched on the side of this road, until the small herd caught up with them.

Knowin' Merle, he's gotta have blocked that herd with somethin' big, maybe led 'em into a building or threw shit on top of 'em. Either way, we don't got a lot of time..

Broken down cars cluttered the road, a gas station visible behind them, perched on the other side of the road, now that they'd made it closer. Before advancing again, the sound of a motor down the road rang out, startling the two, lowering themselves even further onto the ground to avoid being seen. He sent a signal to Merle that told him he'd get closer for a better look.

As Daryl crawled low to the ground, his eyes spotted the vehicle, as it rolled closer to the wreckage of cars on the road.

Then his hunter's vision made out the symbols on the car.

It was a police vehicle.

What's a damn sheriff' doin' out here? Thought they ditched out on law enforcement...

Daryl's thoughts berated him, silently watching the car come to a stop. What he saw next astounded him in a new way. The man stepped out of the vehicle with a gas can in his left hand, his right falling to his side. He wore a light tan sheriff's shirt and a brown cowboy hat.

Man's even got his full uniform on... doesn't know how to let go of the old world.

That thought made Daryl's gaze on the man falter, glancing down to the ground for a minute, pondering about the many things he missed about regular life.

Late nights at bars with Merle, riding bikes with him and the guys he rolled with, buying a fresh pack of smokes from the convenience store, freshly made food that didn't have a chance to poison him from being expired.

Daryl's life before the turn was only eventful if Merle had said it was going to be. After high school, he tagged along on merle's every day, mostly illegal, activities. On the off chance they weren't doing something along those lines, the police somehow always got involved. All Daryl mostly remembers from those times is being pulled away from a random person Merle happened to start an argument with.

It always ended the same way, with Daryl explaining what occurred, and covering for his older brother's irresponsible ass straight to the officer's faces.

With perfect timing, Merle's hand on his shoulder pulled him away from the daydream.

"The hell ya doin, day dreamin'?" Merle whispered, glancing over the cars and then back to Daryl. He cleared his throat before pointing his gaze back to the road.

It was then Daryl realized that he had lost his visual on the sheriff.

Shit.

"You seen that guy? In a sheriff's uniform?" Daryl whispered back, scanning the immediate area for the man. His muscles tensed, pulling the bow from his back. Merle nodded, pulling out his gun.

"Yeah.. Man don't know what he's gettin' into here."

Daryl gave his brother a look, one he did when he was serious about something.

"Don't shoot him. Maybe he'll jus move on. Know for a fact he's lookin' for gas."

"Whatever. Better safe than sorry I always say." Merle shrugged, moving in between one of the cars.

Daryl scoffed at his brother, wanting to always shoot first ask questions later, or never, if the guy was dead before he could do so.

The sound of another pair feet shuffling came quickly, peeping through the car windows to see if it had been the man from before. Instead of seeing the cowboy hat through broken glass, he saw a head of long blonde hair.

The f-

The small steps were staggered, slowly walking through the maze of broken down vehicles. Noticing how small the person's figure was, Daryl guessed it was a young girl, picking up that the clothes she had on were pink pajamas, down to the slippers she wore. Low snarls fell from her figure, catching Daryl off guard as he jumped back for a moment in realization. He waited a moment to see if there was a possibility of getting a better look at her face, the girl turning her head.

A piece of her face was missing, eyes bloodshot and dead inside.

She had turned.

Poor kid. someone shoulda protected ya. Now you're one of those things..

Daryl was about to pull his bow and take the walker out, suddenly remembering he wasn't alone here. Putting the only walker in the area out with one of his arrows would only alert the other man of their presence, and so far, they were staying undetected by him.

The clicking of cowboy boots on hot pavement followed moments after, startling Daryl as he ducked down.

"Little girl?" He heard a southern voice call out.

That sheriff. Shit.

"I'm a police man.. Little girl?"

Daryl listened as her staggering footsteps stopped.

He knew this would end one of two ways, either the cop wouldn't have the guts to put down the kid and she'd get him, or the sound of his gunshot would attract the herd they'd been trying to lose.

"Don't be afraid, okay?" The sound of his boots were closer now, hearing the clinking of his heels closer to where he hid.

Silence rang out heavy in the air, praying to himself that merle wouldn't get too giddy with his ego and shoot the guy. Peeking around the corner of the car he was behind, he'd caught a glimpse of the sheriff, one clearer than before.

Though his back was turned, Daryl could see he was worried about the person he'd come upon.

He don't know she's a walker..

Daryl only watched in fear as he stepped closer.

Don't do it, man...

"Little girl..."

She turned around then, facing the man as low snarls fell from her. Blood dripped from her mouth, her footsteps picking up to head straight towards him.

The man's face dropped, realization washing over his face and painting it pale, like he'd just seen a ghost. Quickly drawing his pistol from the holder, a moment passed before one single gunshot rang out.

Daryl flinched at the sound, realization washing over him in realizing which choice the sheriff had made.

As Daryl calmed himself, he listened carefully to the sounds around him. The sound of the girl's body falling to the ground, followed by the booted feet backing up and roaming around the street.

Daryl moved back to the area he was in before, eyes on the man as he staggered back to his car, clearly disheveled after having to shoot the girl. It wasn't long after that before he started his vehicle up again and drove away.

The two waited until the sheriff's vehicle was out of sight, before standing up fully and walking into the road. Guards still up, they searched around the cars to make sure there were no other walkers lurking.

"Ugh, my back's killin' me. Don't yours hurt from all that layin' low?"

Merle, finding something else to complain about, what else is new.

Daryl glanced over to his brother in slight annoyance, then made his way around the car he'd been peeking through the windows of.

"Nah. gotta do that shit for huntin', why's now any different?"

"I'm just saying, we coulda taken that guy, easy." Merle shrugged, putting his pistol away in the back of his pants.

"Nah. he wasn't a threat, don' care if you could'a taken him or not."

Daryl left it at that with him and started scavenging anything he could make out would be useful. He picked through any cars that were vacant of bodies, still not used to the smell of human carcasses.

Dead animals he could handle, but dead people were still new to him.

"How long's it gonna be 'fore I sleep in a damn bed again..." Daryl mumbled to himself, hating the way sleeping on a cot had been for his back muscles. Though he didn't sleep more than a couple hours a night, he admitted to himself that he missed the softness of a mattress. He swore by his childhood bed, one that gave him the best sleep ever.

Daryl figured out that by the time Merle's plan fell through, they'd be out on the road for the rest of their lives. However long that was for them in this world.. he didn't know. But he was going to fight like hell every day to continue doing so.

"A'right, got what few supplies I could find... that gunshot is gonna bring those walkers right back onto our necks, if they're not on their way already. We gotta move now." Daryl spoke, walking over to Merle again.

"Or... we clear out a trunk or two of these cars and we stay the night here. Herd'll probably pass through... but if we stay hidden, they'll never know we're here.." Merle shrugged, that stupid look on his face again.

Was Daryl really about to go along with another one of his brother's plans? One that could possibly get him and his brother killed?

The thing was, his whole life, Daryl had a hard time saying no, especially to Merle. Call it his brotherly bond, or whatever fear Merle had installed in him by the time he was old enough to boss his younger sibling around.

"Well we gotta eat, can't go huntin' if there's a herd 'round.." Merle raised his hand, obnoxiously stopping his brother from going any further.

"Relax, baby brother. i found some food that'll last us the night. Now, we can split that and find some clean trunks to lay in. It'll be enough to keep us alive for the night."

Daryl had done a lot of things to survive, but never saw himself sleeping in a random broken down trunk of a car just to be able to get through another night. He didn't know how many more days of this he could take of this hardship.

Hesitantly, Daryl agreed, hearing enough of his brother's clever ideas for one day. They quickly rummaged through what was left of the camp on the side of the road, found which cars had clean enough trunks, and set up their rest spots for sleep.

It was just after dusk before the murmur of growls grew louder from the direction they had come. Daryl had set the trunk up with water, and his portion of the food Merle had found; using trash bags to block his flashlight from shining to the outside.

As he shut himself inside, the groans became even louder until the bodies bumped along the maze of cars on the road. Sweat ran down Daryl's face as he held his breath for as long as he could. Then he quietly steadied his breathing as the rest of the walkers passed through.

The trunk was crowded enough with Daryl and his belongings, his bow laying down near his feet in order to avoid being stabbed with an arrow, pack under his head as a pillow.

Not quite relaxed yet, Daryl lifted his head and pulled his pack onto his lap. Unbuckling it, he dug his hand in for his journal and pen. Once they were in his grasp, he clicked the flashlight on and held it in his mouth.

He figured if he were to get a decent night's sleep crammed in the trunk of a car, he should get his thoughts out so they didn't berate his mind all night long.

Daryl started a new entry under the first one written the other day, grasped the pen in his hand and put it to paper.

Day two

Tryin' to kill every geek we find has made me so tired, but we're just trying to somehow make it safer for us. Movin' through Georgia, feels different. Mean, I’m usually out here, the woods, but doesn't feel like the world’s ended. Feels like i can head back to Atlanta n it'll be like normal. But it ain't. Wont ever be the same. Gotta survive now.

With a sigh, he closed the journal and put it away. Before he drifted off to sleep, Daryl checked the interior ties around the lock of the trunk, making sure it was going to stay closed.

Daryl and Merle had even put walker guts on their trunks to mask whatever human smell lingered outside of the cars.

The Dixon brothers were very thorough.

Though he always doubted his safety in conditions like this, Daryl attempted to get a few hours of sleep amongst everything that had occurred. His eyelids heavy as they finally closed, breath steadying, eventually dozing off to sleep.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Next Chapter

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Doctor Who: The Giggle Review- A Whole Glorious Hour of Literally Perfect Television

Warning: Spoilers Ahead

In my previous two Who reviews, I argued that- regardless of the increasing quality of the show- cancellation would still, ultimately, be a kindness. I said this as a fan, because I was aware that the world Doctor Who was built for and the world we presently have are so wildly different that, ultimately, the off-kilter, quintessentially British spirit of the show would have to be traded away to maintain long-term viability. In the wake of The Giggle, I find myself forced to reevaluate this opinion. You see, The Giggle isn’t just a really, really good piece of television- it’s also a blueprint for the series going forward. In this story, showrunner and script-writer Russel T. Davies seems to have hit on a new-but-familiar identity for Doctor Who that can continue to work in the modern world without sacrificing the elements that made it good to begin with.

It would be hard to overstate how fucking great this episode is. Let me see if I can put it into words. I was fourteen years old when Doctor Who came back from its decades-long hiatus and reappeared on the BBC, fronted by the inimitable Christopher Ecclestone. I used to watch those early episodes perched, very literally, on the edge of my seat, my legs trembling involuntarily, ready to run- as though if I sprinted fast enough, I could catch up to the Doctor and enter that world of wild, uncontrolled imagination; that infinity of time and space. That feeling continued throughout David Tennant’s first run as the Doctor, but eventually began to decay. I chalked this down to getting older. After all, nobody watches anything at 20 or 30 the way they watched it when they were 14. I just had to accept that the ageing process had robbed me of my ability to uncritically enjoy something that had meant so much to me in my formative years. And then The Giggle happened, and suddenly I’m 14 again, glued to my chair and grinning like an idiot.

It’s not that The Giggle turned off my critical and analytical faculties by appealing to the nostalgia centres of my brain. It’s too fresh and inventive to pull that cheap trick. Rather, it’s that it’s so joyous and energising that it taps directly into the same part of my psyche that the early episodes did in 2005 while also being so well thought-through and meticulously realised that my capacity for analysis and critique enhanced rather than marred my enjoyment. In my review for Wild Blue Yonder, I commented that it’s harder for TV episodes with a lot of superfluous ideas, characters and concepts to juggle them all successfully- almost like there’s only so much quality to go around and it gets spread too thin. This makes The Giggle particularly impressive. There’s a ton of stuff going on here, but it’s all handled with equal panache and genuine verve. The Giggle makes the juggling of elements feel completely effortless. Spoilers ahead, but I think it’s important to list, out of context, some of the things that happen in The Giggle that left me bewildered, gobsmacked and delighted all at once. And yes, I laughed out loud at many of these, braying like a complete fucking cretin from the sheer, infectious joie de vive of it.

Rhyming murder puppets.

A shop folds itself into a toy-box just to mess with the Doctor and Donna.

The Celestial Toymaker interrupts the plot to deliver a full-on, showstopping musical number.

“It’s alright. I’ve given the moles a force-field.”

A sexy black alien with no trousers whacks a time machine with a croquet mallet so hard that gives birth to another time machine in a slightly different shade of blue.

Grandma’s Footsteps with a motherfucking death-laser.

The fate of the world is resolved with a game of catch.

“I love you. Get out.”

Two chill dudes set fire to a dummy in order to invent television. All the more hilarious because this isn’t a ‘Doctor Who Thing’- this actually happened.

Neil Patrick Harris’ cardistry is on fleek, and- as a magician- I appreciate that.

Oh Sweet Baby Cthulhu the accents! The accents!

Donna Noble has the balls.

You know, I could probably go on, but I won’t. I think that’s honestly enough to be getting on with, and this review does kinda need to end eventually. The point I’m trying to make is that there’s a tremendous amount of silliness and cleverness and inventiveness on display here and it all feels very Doctor Who-y.

Now, if I were a proper reviewer, I’d deal with the meat and potatoes of making a TV show. But honestly, what can I say that isn’t blindingly obvious? Of course David Tennant and Catherine Tate’s acting is spectacular- they’re good actors. Of course the rest of their cast pull their weight- most of them are old hands. Of course the script is well-crafted- I’ve already praised it. Of course the special effects are excellent- this isn’t the bloody Star Beast (hey! I think I just worked out where all that Disney money went!). Basically, everything is well-assembled and you could have figured that out for yourself because I wouldn’t be praising the episode at all otherwise. I will say that Neil Patrick Harris’ Celestial Toymaker is one of the most amazing performances I’ve ever seen. The dude’s having so much fun it’s infectious. I don’t mean to suggest he’s the best actor in the world or anything quite so grand- I just mean that he’s ideally fitted for the role and it’s a treat to see. Other than that, I think we can forgo the painfully obvious gushing over the acting.

It’s probably more relevant to discuss whether The Giggle does the job it sets out to do. And, frankly, it sets out to do a lot of jobs. Its a send-off for David Tennant’s take on the Doctor, an introduction to Ncuti Gatwa’s take, a long-overdue attempt to mend the bridges fucking Chibnall burned during his time as showrunner, a showcase for everything that’s good about Doctor Who, an attempt to expand the Whoniverse in lasting, meaningful ways and an attempt to establish a new identity for the programme that cleaves to the original without depending on it. I mean, that’s a fuck-load of stuff, so it would kind of be unfair to demand that it pulls it all off. Well, the good news is that I don’t have to demand shit, because it just does. Like, completely fucking unprompted. I didn’t have to yell or whack its knuckles with a ruler or anything.

As a send-off for Tenant, it works by… well, by not being a send-off. Russel T. Davies is a gay man whose formative years were the eighties, with the AIDs crisis running rampant and disproportionately effecting his community and demographic. In the early 2000s, when he had to write and manage Tenant’s first run, he still hadn’t entirely come to terms with that (or so the speculation goes), which is why the Doctor’s regeneration from Tenant to Matt Smith was so traumatic- to paraphrase a fellow fan on the issue, Russ just didn’t believe in happy endings. Tenant’s 10th Doctor ‘dies’ (for want of a better term) sad and desperate, clinging to an identity that’s about to be washed away. This time around, we get something called ‘Bi-Generation’, which allows the Doctor to split himself in two, so that his current and next identity can co-exist simultaneously. He gets to hand over the mantle and task of being the Doctor, without giving up who he is. In fact, he gets to go and live with Donna and her family and basically become everyone’s favourite uncle while Gatwa’s Doctor flies off to continue being the main character. And it’s perfect. It’s not a painful, wrenching goodbye, but a fond farewell- a reward for services rendered that doesn’t just keep a fan-favourite on hand for future shenanigans but allows the show to evolve without symbolically erasing a beloved part of its history. It’s made all the more lovely by the fact that it clearly signifies Russel T. Davies going through some kind of internal resolution and coming to terms with something we humble viewers can only guess at. He’s made room in his life for the possibility of happiness- or so it seems- and it’s reflected in his work. It’s nice when real people have arcs.

As an introduction to Gatwa’s 15th Doctor, The Giggle doesn’t do a bad job either. Instead of a few pitiful seconds of screen-time at the end of the episode (which is traditional for hot new Regenerations), Gatwa gets to act properly alongside his predecessor for a little bit and feel out the role. His delivery of the lines is mostly solid, barring a few moments of awkwardness, but- in fairness- he’s being asked to act against a fuckload of green-screen FX in no trousers for one of the most iconic programmes and roles on British telly. The fact he does as well as he does first time out is impressive. You can tell he has the talent to carry off the role (this isn’t another Whitaker situation, thank fuck)- it’s just going to take him a full episode or two to hit his stride, which is fine. But that’s the actor. The character of the 15th Doctor… well, let’s just say I feel like the TARDIS is in safe hands. Fifteen is over the top, bombastic, a tiny bit queer-coded (in a fun way, not a virtue-signalling way), refreshingly silly and absolutely full of heart. Yeah. I could get used to this guy. The fact that he’s the first black Doctor is also handled way, way better than Whitaker being the first female Doctor. With Whitaker, we got a fucking awful, unearned straight-to-camera speech about how change can be scary but how it’s also inevitable and important (or something- after a certain point, I couldn’t hear it over the sound of my own groaning). With Gatwa we get “Do you come in a range of colours?” “Yes.” and that’s it. The show doesn’t want to start a blasted controversy over it or have it be a big deal… so it accomplishes that by not making it a big deal. This kind of light touch, trust-the-audience-to-keep-up approach is refreshing to say the least. And yeah- it does help mend some of those Chibfail/Pisstaker-burned bridges I alluded to earlier.

Speaking of mending burned bridges, I think one of the most important things The Giggle does is low-key kick the shit out of Chibnall’s idiotic changes to canon. It’s accomplished with exactly one line of dialogue, and it’s open to interpretation, but it’s still an olive branch to fans who were flabbergasted by the flagrant disrespect of The Timeless Children and the whole ‘Division’ plot arc in Flux. See, aside from pushing against established canon in a way that insulted those invested therein, those storylines symbolically overrode William Hartnell’s definitive performance as the First Doctor from way back in the 60s, turning his character into just another link in the chain and erasing the in-universe legacy of much-cherished figure (a real person whose importance to the show cannot be overstated), just because he didn’t fit Chibfail’s personal, self-serving vision of who and what the Doctor should be. But, in The Giggle, we learn that the Toymaker “made a jigsaw puzzle” out of the Doctor’s history, low-key implying that, actually, none of this bullshit is canon- it was just a mad bastard with reality-bending powers messing with the Doc for shits and, er, giggles. No pun intended. Fine by me. I also quite liked the way The Giggle used the Toymaker to take aim at the Culture War and cancel culture- on both sides of the divide- because it seemed like a bit of an acknowledgement that the fans hadn’t really come first where creative decision on Who were concerned lately; that it was more about seeming to be on the right ‘side’. The implication here, of course, is that if the bloody Toymaker knows this is bullshit, so does the show and we’ll get episodes that appeal to all the fanbase as a whole rather than episodes that seek to draw battle-lines and divide them. I mean, the bridges Chibnall and Whitaker burned were big, huge, fucking massive bridges and they burned them very, very thoroughly. Doctor Who has a lot of work to do if it wants to bring them back up to code and win fan trust back, but it’s made enormous strides just with The Giggle.

As for serving as a showcase for everything good about Who- yeah: fucking nails it. We’ve got cosmic stakes, quintessentially British snark, loveable daftness, a great fucking bad guy, problems being solved with smarts and charisma rather than guns and violence, high concept sci-fi nonsense by the bucket load and even some creepy as fuck monsters to play with. Plus, with the single line “My legions are coming,” we know that we’re going to get more mileage out of the plot-line. What’s not to love?

So yes: The Giggle is worth every tiny scrap of hype that surrounds it. It really is the episode to revitalise Doctor Who. Yes, RTD and friends still have to stick the landing- they still have to keep up a consistent quality with upcoming episodes and not backslide to fucking Star Beast level- but, if they can do all that, the show should be good for awhile. Yes, it will still have to stop eventually, but that moment is no longer imminent. With the right management and succession of showrunners, we could get another decade out of this. Doctor Who could actually outlast the Culture Wars that make it so hard to do good sci-fi, regardless of which side of the political spectrum your story falls on. Wouldn’t that be nice? To know that, in the end, the winner of that tawdry fucking bum-fight wasn’t one side or the other, but a genuinely lovely and well-meaning little British sci-fi show. And all that, because one episode- one fucking episode- was able to undo years of crap. Not bad for a single hour of Saturday evening telly.

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

Local dirt bag line cook returns with a bit from the kylux restaurant AU I”m working on. This is one of the like, softest things I’ve ever written because I’m working from the middle out with this Fic and it’s A Wild Experience even as someone who doesn’t write linearly.

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“How on earth can you spend every day in the place your parents fell out of love?” he asks when it’s his turn. This is certainly the most touchy question they’ve asked so far, but he can only ask about gross habits and underwear pregerences for long before he goes numb in the brain. “It’s complicated,” Ben says, adjusting the flame of his burner and tossing whatever he’s cooking for them. Hux has recognized shallots and white wine, and it smells amazing, but he’s clueless beyond that. “On one hand, a direct line is drawn from [restaurant name] to my parent’s divorce. She sold dad her part of the business and washed her hands of it. But I also grew up in that building.” He pauses, opening the oven to check on something. Watching someone cook is an interesting experience, given that most of his diet is protein bars, meal replacement shakes, and whatever dead food gets set in the server alley. Cooking is far beyond Hux’s energy level, at this stage of his life. “The happy memories are there, too,” Ben continues as he idly stirs another pot. “The last months before their marriage fell apart, especially. Before mom went to manage one of my uncle’s restaurant so he could focus on the food, and not the paperwork.” “I still blows my mind that your uncle owns multiple Michelin star restaurants, and you chose to work at [Restaurant name],” Hux says, mostly because it’s true. Ben puts so much pride in his work, it’s hard to believe he wouldn’t thrive on the recognition there. For all the time Hux has spent at [restaurant name], he knows it’s near the bottom of the barrel, as far as fine dining is concerned. Barely a step about a chain steakhouse. Ben laughs. “He has an interesting managerial style. I worked a summer there, before I went to culinary school, but it wasn’t for me.” For a moment, Ben looks embarrassed. “I tried to set the place on fire, when I left, actually.” In shock, Hux spits out his sip of wine, covering his mouth and taking the towel Ben hands him. “It was just after my parents divorce, so there were some extenuating personal circumstances, but he still likes to remind me of it at Christmas. For a few years after, all he got me was a fire extinguisher.” “Ben Solo, aspiring arsonist,” Hux muses. “Why didn’t it work?” “Restaurants take fire suppression pretty seriously,” he answers. “Seventeen-year-old Ben didn’t remember that some of them trigger automatically at certain smoke levels.” “Still,” Hux continues, making sure to remember this piece of information for later, “those kind of connections could get you a job anywhere, right? Why stay here and work for your dad? Especially with how much you two argue?” With a shrug, Ben covers one pan and turns the heat off on another, grabbing his own glass of wine as he leans against the counter. As strange as this all is, from seeing the art on Ben’s walls to sitting at his island, sipping a glass of wine, it’s nice. There’s no fear settling into Hux’s shoulders, no tension in his spine. All of the anxiety he normally feels in social situations didn’t walk through the door with him, almost. It helps that outside the walls of [restaurant name], Ben seems more relaxed. His hair curls slightly from its place tucked behind his ear, and Hux wonders what it would feel like running through his fingers, brushing across his skin. “I could work at some place like that,” Ben agrees. “I would get too little pay for too much work, but it would be challenging. A creative exercise, I’m sure those sorts of cooks would say. “Or I could work in the same kitchen my mom taught me how to make cookies. When I was really little, I took naps in the office. After close, I would run around the dining room and one of the hosts would play hide-and-seek with me. At some point, I’ll have to do something else, but for now? How could I go anywhere else?” The timer Ben set starts beeping, then, and he moves a few deli containers of ingredients so he can set a trivet on the counter. “Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Hux asks one last time, and Ben gives him an entirely unimpressed look. “What do you think I’m making, right now?” With a blush rising along his cheek, Hux realizes that while he’s been watching Ben cook, he’s spent all that time looking at Ben, not the cooking. “I’m pretty sure there were shrimp, at some point,” he says, “and I watched you pour some of the wine in there, which seems like a waste.” “The real waste is that we’re drinking it,” Ben admits. “I don’t know anything about wine, I just found the Sauv Blanc with the coolest label.” They both look to the bottle on the counter, then, which features a strange logo and a flaming sword. “And no, I’ll pass on the help. I’m not prepared for all the things I’d need, to start from scratch on cooking knowledge.” He pauses. “I’ll need to change the batteries on my fire alarm, for one. Wouldn’t want you to try and emulate me.” Ben keeps talking, but Hux is staring at his hands. One is cupping his wine glass, and the other is resting on the counter, fingers splayed over the butcher block. The veins in his forearms flex as he gestures, and Hux thinks back to that girl on a date. Remembers Ben’s words, about how the time passed differently, when it was the right person on the other side of the table. Feels Ben’s kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Did I lose you?” Ben asks, moving to lean on the island. Hux can smell his shampoo from here, could reach out and grab Ben’s hand. For a moment, he considers being weak. Every change in their relationship, Ben initiated and Hux responded in turn. Even now, he’s following Ben’s lead, sitting where he’s told, waiting to be shown what the boundaries are and following them to perfection. He could keep following, let Ben lead in this dance and take direction. He reaches his hand across the cold surface of the island, lets his fingers brush Ben’s closed hands. They open as he does, and Hux slides their hands together, holds loosely so Ben has the chance to pull away. Ben stays right where he is, rubbing idle circles on the back of Hux’s hand with his thumb.

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all of this is of course unedited and subject to change but I’m having so much fun writing this au. I think about it while I’m at work, at it’s been great for my morale. Nothing like portioning broccoli while trying to flesh out a scene. The playlist for this AU is also going to be massive I’ll post that out of the main ship tag but under the AU tag I’ve created for this blog, which is just the working title for the fic in scrivener. It’ll be #hands off hands out

since you stuck around here’s another little bit that ripped my heart out writing.

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Hux is smoking the last cigarette of his break up pack when Ben comes outside. For a moment, he thinks Ben will just turn around and go back inside, that the awkwardness of the situation will stop him from staying. Instead, he lets the door close and lock behind them and stands in front of the bell. “I thought you quit,” Ben says, and Hux sighs. He’s only half way through this cigarette, but he puts it out anyway, throwing it into the sand bucket and cursing himself for his own pity purchase. “Times of stress can bring back bad habits. I’m sure I don’t have to explain that to you.” “If changing jobs is that stressful for you, maybe you should just stay here.” So that’s what this is about. Hux should have known Ben was too earnest, too open, to just let him disappear into the city and try to pretend he didn’t ruin this. Be couldn’t let him fall with grace, he had to push Hux on the way down. “I’ve had an open offer at the First Order for a few months, now. I just never had a reason to take it.” “And now you do?” A small, bitter laugh claws its way from his lips. Desperately, he wishes there was still a cigarette between his fingers, smoke filling his lungs. Anything to pull him out of this conversation for a moment. “Now I do,” Hux agrees. “The hours won’t be as good, with school, but I should only have to graduate a semester late. Nothing, in the grand scheme of my life.” “Or you could stay here,” Ben says, and there’s something in his voice, an emotion Hux can’t quite place. He would call it hopeful, but what would he have to hope? That he can stay here and continue to watch Ben fall apart? Watch the person he fell in love with continue to ignore him, treat the people around him like punching bags, fall into a pit of grief so deep that light won’t reach him at the bottom? “I can’t be here, be in love with you, and not have you. I’m changing the only one I have any control over, Ben. I can’t seem to stop loving you and you seemed pretty firm in your dismissal. So I can’t be here.” And like the coward he is, Hux stands, pushing his way past Ben and into the restaurant. He washes the nicotine off his hands like it’s evidence of a crime and reminds himself that there’s only three more shifts between himself and freedom. Ben isn’t even scheduled on his last shift. Two more days of the consequences of his fuck ups, and he can try to forget that he met the love of his life and absolutely fumbled his chance at happiness. He’ll graduate from school, wait different tables, and wonder for the rest of his life what might have been, if he’d just said yes the first time. If he’d let his feelings be more important than a job.

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I’m really glad people seem to like this AU because it’s 100% part passion project and part that I’m so tired of restaurant AUs by people who’ve obviously never worked in a restaurant and are just enamored with the idea of them. I don’t want to hear about the food, that’s the least important part. I want to hear about the conversations between servers and cooks that have to pause every time food needs to be run and the hidden complaining in the walk in about whatever dumb change management has made and the heart breaking moment when you hear an 18 top walked in with no reservation. I want awkwardly placed burns and broken equipment but also the satisfaction of a smoothly run busy shift and the feeling of a new oven on the line.

(I have another AU in my head inspired by recent events where ben is a restaurant repair tech, following in hans footsteps, and hux is a tired GM who just wants his things to stop breaking. We’ve had lots of repair people in lately and one of them worked on my table two days in a row and it was so annoying I went from pantry one day to saute the next and he was there both days with my table torn apart and in my way as I’m trying to carrying a pot of boiling water to and from my range while it’s filled with also ten pounds of cavatappi.)

((This AU will have to wait until the first one is finished though.))