#third post attempt hells yea

[tabl3]

moral of the story is that Kaz got swole in EF lol

[ratcandy]

CoGR Abridged/Summarized

Hello hello! My name is Clam, otherwise known as Squeakyclam on Ao3, and this is a heavily summarized/shortened version of my HK fic Camouflage of Great Renown. For anyone somehow finding this that doesn't know what it's about, CoGR focuses on Zote and his story through the game and what preceded it. He recounts his entire life up until the end of what's known in canon, and this includes a whole lot of angst, growth, realizations, and Trauma Revelations.

Oh, and he's a nosk. Zote is a nosk. Yep.

I've had a few requests for a summary, as the work is super long and reading through 130k+ words of Zote dialogue may not be for everyone, hehehe so I've compiled all the important plot points and wrote them out here in order of his story, rather than the plotline CoGR goes through specifically (in which big events in his history are revealed later on).

If I had to recommend reading the fic for anything, it'd be the... impact, I suppose? 'Cause reading the summarized events here will NOT be anything like reading it in CoGR. Seeing as the fic is all in Zote's pov and he actually has to force himself to admit all of this aloud. But I digress!!

Here's a summary of Zote's life according to CoGR.

THIS IS A VERY, VERY LONG POST DESPITE BEING A SUMMARY. I'm sorry, CoGR just has a lot happening! T/W for mentions of death.

A lot more heavy stuff happens in CoGR, but in this summary I do my best to step around those subjects. If you think more T/Ws should be added, let me know, and I'll put them here

Nosks were a species that inhabited Deepnest, specifically living in a den towards the nest's depths. It split off into lots of tunnels and caverns that each nosk lived in. "Society" there was very hostile and unwelcoming, as nosks valued brute strength over just about anything else. Caring for another nosk - be it kin or otherwise - was considered weak. "Burdens" to the den, such as nosks that were badly wounded, would/could not hunt, or were simply getting too old would be killed off. Death in and of itself was very common and hardly anyone would bat an eye at it.

Think the Mantis Tribe but largely feral and without a shred of decency of morals.

Runt donning mask of citizen was born into the nosk den alongside his brother, who would become hunter donning hide of tiktik.

(Before anyone asks, these are just the naming conventions that nosks have. No one but the nosk superiors - the leaders of the den - are granted actual names.)

A third egg was among them, but the brother broke it open and ate the younger sibling not long after hatching.

The two were born under a superior (their mother) and her chosen mate (their father). They were expected to grow up strong and eventually overtake their mother and become superiors. Or, one of them would, maybe.

The runt (Zote) was immediately scorned by the mother, as he was extremely frail and useless, and she just about killed him off right after he hatched - but his father stepped in, and the runt was left alive.

Zote grew up to be a weak nosk who could barely defend himself in a den full of beasts that would gladly kill him if doing so wouldn't be a direct offense to a superior. His brother was cruel to him, his father berated him constantly, and his mother was hardly in the picture at all. Only ever watching him distastefully from afar.

His father did, however, train him, if only sparingly. The least he could do to keep Zote alive. (Doing so would be a death wish were any other nosks to find out about it...)

However, an elder in the den - hunter donning mask of weaver - gained Zote's attention as she told him fantastical stories from outside the den. This elder had spent a good portion of her life among the Weavers, initially being sent to learn about them (to make them easier to hunt) but growing interested in their culture and choosing to stay. Until she did something to get her chased out.

At any rate, she told the stories from the Weavers to Zote, alongside news of what was happening outside of Deepnest. This caused the runt to become obsessed with the idea of being a knight, as the stories just sounded!! So amazing and heroic and awesome and!!! :D Yea!! He wanted to be just like that!

To the point where he even carved a sword out of the shellwood... with the den elder's help. He named it Life-Ender eventually.

At some point, however, his father found out about all this. His father figured that the only way to eliminate this problem - as wishing to be something heroic that saved lives or whatever was SO unnosk-like (and would get him killed) - was to kill the den elder.

Before she died, the elder told Zote to run away from the den, and not to return no matter what. The idiot did not run, and because of this, he witnessed the Den Elder's death at the hands of his father and some other nosks.

Man! this does, however, cause Zote to be more... "open" about his ideas. By this I mean he begins carrying Life-Ender around instead of hiding it in his nest. what do you mean it's a comfort item what! no he's just rebelliously showing off how much he wants to be a knight. totally. 100% /s

well, anyway, not long after this, the idiot's father dies at the claws of his mother. Zote unfortunately witnesses this as well. When he tries to run, his mother catches him, nearly killing him as well. Luckily(?), this attempt is thwarted by Zote's brother, who was very distraught over their father's death. The brother swears to kill the mother before storming off. Zote runs into hiding (still in the nosk den), and begins devising his plan so to get the hell out of there.

Of the few times that Zote leaves his nest after his father's death, 90% of them ended with him getting pummeled by his brother. The latter was livid, blaming the father's death on Zote and frequently bursting into fits of emotional rage. Rage is great for nosks, other emotions not so much.

On one occasion in particular, the brother goes too far, nearly killing Zote. In the scuffle, Life-Ender is shattered, and that sends Zote into a blind anger (mixed with survival instinct as he's About to Die). Zote then kills his brother.

A crowd had gathered around them during the fight. In that crowd was Zote's mother, who looked to him approvingly after he'd killed off his brother. This terrified Zote, so he gathered the pieces of Life-Ender and fled the den forever.

Stopping at the hot spring in Deepnest, he made a disguise for himself based on the vessels that nosks would often capture. He made a new name for himself, took on an entirely new identity, and decided to abandon the idea that he was ever a nosk. He would just go to the City, be knighted by the King (who he'd heard of from the stories the Den Elder would tell him), and live out his life as a knight. Just like he always wanted. Not as a nosk. because he's not that.

The events that follow now are just very short summaries of things that happen throughout cogr.

- He breaks a statue in the Queen's station on accident after a bug finds him there. as a nosk. oops

- He obliterates the entire uoma population /j and burns himself in the process

- He repairs Life-Ender originally using mushrooms in the Fungal Wastes. Fungal adhesion is real I checked I swear

- He makes it to the City of Tears! and while there, he

Gets caught by Hegemol who mistakes him as a vessel

Drowns in the City's gutters

Purchases a cloth to wrap around Life-Ender

Hears the Pale King talk one (1) time and immediately decides he hates him

- While leaving the City, he finds a grub. That grub never really gets named, but as he frequented calling the little thing "Fiend," and the grub eventually began responding to that title, he just considers it a name for them now.

- Zote travels with the grub throughout the Crossroads until he drops them off with the Grubfather, being rewarded for reuniting them but overall feelings pretty :( about it.

- He then goes to the. So you know the houses that are underneath the Gruzz Mother's lil arena? Yea that place. he goes there and "guards" it, becoming that place's self-proclaimed knight.

- then he starts being paranoid about the grub and returns to the grubfather only to see all the grubs have been stolen. he presumes Fiend is dead from this point on (and dodges around ever using the word).

- Then he goes back to the lil town place only to see everyone's infected :(

- We then spend TEN CHAPTERS!! in Greenpath. In which he

eats a plant and dies

Stands in No Eyes's tomb.

Visits the Lake of Unn (and nothing bad happens)

Sees a nosk at the entrance to Fog Canyon and proceeds to have a panic attack

Kills everything

Gets caught by the Vengefly king

Gets saved!

has a breakdown

Yells at Ghost and then Leaves

- Canon starts!

- He stops in Dirtmouth, listens to Elderbug talk, gets told the Myth of the Great old Nosks who are now all Extinct. The news that nosks are now extinct freaks Zote out a little, but he absolutely refuses to return to Deepnest. He doesn't need to make sure. It's fine.

- In an effort to convince himself not to go to Deepnest, he goes to the City again, thinking it can't possibly be all that ba-- oh no everyone's dead!

- he inadvertently steals a map marker from Ghost and decides to use that as a pin for his cloak

- Zote returns to Deepnest. He's very upset with himself for this, but he just has to know if all the nosks are actually extinct now.

The answer is yes

but before that he gets caught by dirtcarvers and put in a web and has to be saved. this makes him angry

Upon seeing all the dead nosks once he gets to the den, and noticing that the last nosk was mimicking Ghost (evidenced by the mask left behind) before it died, he decides that he's gotta Kill Everything again

- more specifically we're going to the Colosseum now.

- Zote's fear of water evaporates as he goes through the secret passage in the King's Station to get to Kingdom's Edge. He only found it because he saw Ghost go that way

- While at the Kingdom's Edge, he gets caught by the Fools, who he stupidly challenges and then immediately gets caught by.

- sits in dumb baby jail for a while. mean to tiso

- Then the colosseum battle happens! He does not win he then gets dropped down into kingdom's edge with little regard toward whether he's dead or alive

- He grabs a Fool's helmet before leaving, going back to Dirtmouth, and intending to bury that thing

- this goes wrong as he bumps into Bretta. He then sits and talks with her for God Only Knows how Long, spacing out while doing so, and not even noticing when she eventually gets up and leaves him.

- He buries the helmet, shuts himself away in his house, and gets stuck repeating his precepts to himself. At the end of CoGR it is revealed that he hasn't been talking to anyone, and is instead talking to himself endlessly as no one is left to listen to him

and that's it! that's cogr. yeah

[ka-writes]

——————

Notes: First of all... thank you so much for the support!!

Second, space vocab: starling: young unidentified species ISF: intergalactic safety force

Anyways, take care of yourself <3!

——————

Warning: flashbacks to abuse, if needed skip past any italicized words, mentions of child labor exploitation (Someone forces Tommy to steal), attempting to drug character, cussing, kidnapping, fear.

——————

Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 5:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33147661/chapters/82290709

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Chapter 6: Causing Chaos

——————

Planet Amari was their next stop. It would take only four hours to get there and usually this would be no problem if they weren’t harboring a human. Let alone the human that had just escaped the Dream Team Ship.

Phil shook his head and focused on the increased security around the boarding docks.

Amair is a planet whose only purpose is to entertain, meaning they already have some of the best security in this part of the galaxy. The added security came directly from the ISF and were now searching suspicious ships.

“Check check, one two.” The microphone turned green, “As your captain it is my duty to warn you about extra security measures. The ISF is boarding ships and checking for abnormalities. Please complete protocol 35.0.” Phil spoke into the mic and waited for everyone’s confirmation.

He got up and started the process of taking maps and blueprints that were not available to the public along with future plans and hid them in a document compartment behind one of his shelves. He then changed his normal illusion monitor and changed it to the default screen.

He stepped out of the cabin and cleaned the surrounding area, while also checking for anything that could be confiscated.

“Tommy. In order to go onto the planet I need you to wear this.”Wilbur confronted.

“No! It looks like one of those serial killer masks!! My face is too beautiful to be hidden.” Tommy scoffed.

“Tommy if you don’t wear it willingly, I will tell Ranboo about-“ Wilbur was cut off by a series of curses and Tommy fiddling the mask around his face. “Good. Put this on too.” Wilbur handed the blonde a bundle of clothes and made his way to the lab. Phil chuckled at the brotherly bond that was already forming.

He made his way down to the lab checking for abnormalities before seeping back to the holding cell. The human was pulling at his clothes while packing things back into the shelf.

“Hello mate! Whatcha doing there?” Phil asked, casually. What he didn’t expect was the human to practically jump out of his clothes in the captain’s presence.

“W-who are you?” Tommy stammered, Phil had completely forgotten he had never introduced himself before.

“Oh! I forgot we haven’t formally met. My name is Captain Philza Mine Craft, but you can call me Phil or Philza, whichever you prefer. I use he/him pronouns and am the legal captain of the SBI Craft.” Phil finished his introduction with an easy confidence, even with the face mask you could easily see the kid’s wonder, “We are currently waiting for a formal check from the ISF.” The human tensed at that, “So if you would please follow me to the common room, so I may hide the holding cell.” The human nodded vigorously.

Once Phil had dropped Tommy off in the common room he made his way to the holding cell. With a few clicks and checks the holding cell made a perfect illusion wall, which molded it into the wall not to be seen by any inspectors or gadgets they may have.

Once he had gotten confirmations from all crew members, he made his way back to the pilot’s cabin. If they were even a minute slower with preparations, security would have deemed the ship suspicious.

They settled the ship at the checkpoint and waited for a security officer to signal them.

——————

Wilbur’s leg bounced anxiously as he wore his disguise. He had finished briefing Tommy about the plan. They would lie about their origins, Wilbur doing the talking, and would get what they needed and get out.

The only thing anyone was waiting on was the guard.

Almost on queue the door began to open and a young starling stood at the door. He seemed to be genetically engineered and had wires attached to his head and 3D glasses.

“Hello everyone! My name is Jack Manifold, and I will be checking your ship!” The starling chirped, “I hope you have both we have to confiscate, because everyone here seems like lovely people. I have to ask where is your captain?”

“Right here mate.” Philza said, stepping out of the pilot cabin. “I am Captain Philza Mine Craft, of the SBI Craft. Feel free to look around.” Phil said with a hint of impatience. Jack didn’t seem to notice and made his way around the Craft.

Everyone sitting in the common room shared a few nervous glances. The only one who seemed oddly comfortable was Tubbo.. Wilbur took note of the behavior and tried to busy himself with the magazine he was holding...

When did he get a magazine?

He was immersed in an article about room design when Jack returned.

“Everything seems to be in order! The only thing I ask is that everyone introduces themselves.” His tone turned serious as he looked at the crew.

“My name is Technoblade. I am the security officer on this ship and second in command.” Techno said without faltering in tone.

“I am Ranboo. I am Technoblade’s hired assistant and do most chores around the ship.” Ranboo said clearly anxious with the attention on them.

“Tubbo, I am a hired gardener and take care of food supplies and medical ingredients.” There was a coldness to Tubbo’s voice as he finished his introduction.

“Dr. Craft, I am a toxicologist. This is my medical student, Tommy, he doesn’t talk much.” There was a suspicious glint in Jack’s eye as Wilbur continued, “We have been working for this crew for two months, before that we were traveling on our own licensed craft.” Jack accepted the answer and finished checking his notepad off.

“Alright, that will be all then! Welcome to Amari! Once I give this report to my manager, you should be able to enter the atmosphere!” With that the cheery starling left the ship and Phil closed the door before disappearing into the pilots cabin.

To say Wilbur was relieved was an understatement.

——————

Things were falling into place.

Once they were on the planet all Tubbo would have to do is add the substance to one of Tommy’s drinks and he would be acting out in no time!

But is it worth it?

He pushed the thought out of his head and finished packing the small packet in his bag before getting off the ship with the rest of the crew.

“Before we head to the shopping center, why don’t we stop by Las Nevada’s? I mean it’s Tommy’s first time on Amari after all.” Tubbo said. Las Nevada’s is the most well known restaurant and casino in Amari. It was the perfect place for Tubbo to start his plan.

“I don’t see why not. Just stay in the restaurant bit, we don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves.” Phil answered.

With that the group walked into one of the best and worst places in the city, though no one knew of the worst bit yet…

——————

They sat around a booth compartment. It had soft red padding and purple looking palm trees, without the coconuts.

It reminded Tommy of a stereotypical mafia restaurant. Something Tommy never got the privilege of seeing.

It made him very uncomfortable, especially when the waitress gave them drinks in glass cups. He felt like whatever he touched would instantly shatter into a billion pieces.

Techno was taking Ranboo to the bathroom and Phil and Will were talking to a waitress leaving only Tommy and the scary bee boy . alone.

“I told you I was done Miranda!!” A man shouted from a nearby table causing Tommy’s attention to be focused on the couple fighting.

“You had one job. And you failed it boy.” A man slapped his face.

He was in his third foster home again. They had asked him to get at least $50 from people on the subway, he had only managed to score $20, and the man was furious.

“You’re lucky I see potential, otherwise you’d be back in that goddamn group home.” Tommy’s eyes dropped yo the floor, another slap and a hand grabbing his chin to look at the man, “PAY ATTENTION TO ME BOY. I saved you from that hell hole and I can take you back.” The man sneered. Honestly Tommy would rather be there than here.

“Hey!” Wilbur snapped in front of his face, “You with us?” Tommy nodded. The couple was gone and everyone returned. Now Ranboo and Wilbur were sitting next to him and Tubbo was sitting next to Ranboo. Did bee-boy always look so guilty?

After a minute of awkward silence, Phil and Techno started talking, their voices drowned out by the surrounding noise. Wilbur had turned his attention to his menu and Ranboo was writing in his book again.

Tommy reached for his water and Tubbo turned his attention to the human. The mask he was wearing had a flap so he could easily breathe, eat, and drink. He took a sip of water….. was water supposed to be this sweet?

“Why the fuck would someone put sugar in water as a prank?” Tommy mumbled, everyone’s attention was on the human again, “What?” He asked defensively.

“Did you say sugar?” Wilbur asked as if it was the craziest thing he had ever heard.

“Umm… yea?” Tommy said. We’re these people pulling a prank on him? Why was everyone looking at him like that?

“Tommy, can you give me your water?” Wilbur asked, he was genuinely confused by the reactions. After a few seconds he gave his water to Wilbur who immediately took a sip and spit it out.

“What the fuck?!” Tommy asked as Wilbur gave him the water back.

“That is definitely sugar.. Tommy do you feel weird at all?” He asked.

“Erm no?” This was getting stranger and stranger.

“So humans are immune to sugar…” Will said as if it was a scientific breakthrough.

“Yea? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well for one, most species go absolutely crazy after eating sugar, for some it could lead to death.” Tubbo informed. He looked even more confused than Tommy felt.

“So like, aliens go psycho when they eat sugar? That’s lame.” Tommy laughed out the last line. Everyone looked at him with concerned glances, “I don’t think I am gonna go psycho after drinking a small bit of sugar water, I mean most people have been eating sugar their entire lives, me being one of ‘em.” Tommy finished and the underlying tension died down. Well except Tubbo’s which felt more like an angry glare meant to affect him in some way.

When the waitress came everyone gave their orders, Wilbur supplying Tommy’s. The rest of the meal was comfortable, with Phil telling stories and the rest supplying jokes and chatter, along with the occasional glare from Tubbo.

To be honest Tommy had never felt so comfortable around anyone before, he wanted so badly to let down his wall around these people. Still there was that annoying voice that told him not to trust them. For once he didn’t listen to it.

I mean what could go wrong?

——————

The plan failed. Shit.

Tubbo was mad. Not just mad, furious.

The others were having fun with the human, yet again. Tubbo had wandered off, he wanted to destroy everything, and yet he simply walked off without a second glance. He could feel the tears streaming down his face.

“Hello bee-boy!” The human scared the droneling, his ears falling flat against his head.

“I am not in the mood to talk.” Tubbo sniffed.

“Oh..” The human’s tone dropped, it was almost as if it was hurt by Tubbo’s words. “That’s alright big-man! We don’t have to talk.” The human settled with that response, with that the pair walked through the busy street in silence. Tubbo tried to throw the human off his trail but gave up after a few minutes.

After fifteen minutes of them wandering around Tubbo spotted a shop and made his way over to the electronic shop. The human followed him into the small store.

It was a small shop with tight isles and jazz music filling the silence. At the register a tall creeper hybrid fiddled with a redstone contraption. Tubbo paid no mind to him and turned his attention to some of the smaller devices scattered throughout the shop. The human shifted nervously behind him.

Once Tubbo found what he was looking for he took it over to the register. Another man stood behind it along with the original one. His eyes shifted to Tommy.

“Are you sure that’s him?” The original man asked, his name tag reading Sam.

“Yes, positive. Dream will be happy with this.” The other man replied, he stretched one of his fingerless black gloves and turned towards the pair. “Hi. I am assuming you have my boss’s patient?” The black hair man asked. He was a blazeling and had a cruel glint to his eye.

Without warning another man came up behind them and slapped a cloth over both of their faces. Within seconds the pair was out and everything went black.

He woke up in a cage.

——————

Chapter 6- End

Words: 2206

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Notes: The next bit will be hard to write ;-; but then we get to the fluffy-angst :D

Also this was harder to write... motivation went poof, but I won’t quit on you!!

<3

——————

Tubbo: *tries to cause chaos—fails

Tubbo: *wanders into a random shop—causes chaos

Tubbo: .-. Wtf

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Chapter 7:

[yakumtsaki]

Well guys, it’s that time of year again. To recap, Jojo is still not a werewolf, Wyatt has shattered every record of incompetence and still not reached the top of his career, noogiesexual Shajar got dumped by Sophie Miguel and befriended a vampire, Cyneswith continues to date black-lipstick-broken-face-template flop Don Oates, Wulf grew up in the most iconic outfit of all time, and we got a new cat named Alcibiades for D’vorah to mate with since she refused to have kittens with poor Sweets. So let’s pick up right where we left off, which is of course the endless battle of getting D’vorah to procreate..

-Come on sweetie, we got a new boy toy just for you, get on with it, you’re almost an elder!

-NEVER! I’m a direct descendant of Zoroaster’s cat herself, I’ll never sully my bloodline with the genetic material of some pound mutt! You find me an appropriate mate before I go full Henry VIII!

STOP MIXING HISTORICAL REFERENCES AND FUCK ALCIBIADES ALREADY. His name undercuts my point but still.

-Do we have any custom blue fur paint for my balls?

ALCIBIADES SHUT UP. You assholes are by far the worst generation of pets yet, the two cat losers are bad enough but then add fucking Maxx to the mix-

-AND FORGET ABOUT IT. Look who’s getting along all of a sudden! 

-Yes, now that it’s become clear that this cat legacy shitshow is crumbling, I’ve stopped beating up the cats because I will look like a bully kicking them while they’re down. It’s part of my image revamp to get the audience behind a dog legacy! 🐶

Maxx, nothing personal, but I hate you more than you can possibly imagine. Let’s check in with the humans, I’m sure they will be totally normal, likable and stable as always-

-I can see your beating heart with my x-ray vision. I want to eat it. 

-Yay, let my sister eat your heart! 💗

-Stop patronizing me, you little bitch, I can get my own hearts to eat. 

-I just get excited when we do things together! 💗

-GAWD GTFO CYNESWITH, you’re ruining my Aztec sacrifice!!! 

-Ah, to be middle aged and in love, with your terrible children about to fuck off to college at any minute.. Looking at you, Wulf. Literally looking at you. 

Somehow that is already enough checking in with the humans for one update?

-HAHA I GOT YOU! GIMME IT!! YOU DON’T EVEN NEED IT

-LEAVE MY HEART ALONE, SHAJAR, I KEEP TELLING YOU IT’S A VITAL ORGAN

-No it’s not, the paper that got my father kicked out of the mad scientist association said so! 

They hated Jojo because he told them the truth.

These two are actually getting along great and I get my hopes up that Shajar will stop being a literal incel! Let’s all join together in prayer-

-Did someone say ‘prayer’?

GODDAMMIT SOPHIE YOU HAVEN’T SHOWED UP AT ALL AND YOU CHOOSE THIS MOMENT TO MAKE YOUR GHOST DEBUT?? FUCK OFF  

-HAHA I was waiting for a situation where my appearance would hinder the biggest amount of sin!!!!

UGH you’ve gotten even more religious in death?!

-Of course I have, what do you think heaven does to your faith?

How the fuck are you both in heaven and wandering the earth as an apparition?

-My spirit takes earth vacations to cockblock! 

Well at least you’re dying how you lived: pissing me off. 

And of course Maxx goes in for the kill with his ‘good doggie’ routine, terminally distracting Blueshirt Whatshername from Shajar’s heart-eating charms. As always, big thanks to our pets, both alive and dead.

End of the road, Shajar! Enjoy this dancing scholarship that you hilariously earned during all the outings I forced you into to get rid of your incelitude.

As Shajar leaves for college a kissless noogiesexual, I decide to try and solve at least one of my problems, and that problem is called Don fucking Oates. So we call Lakshmi back, hoping she has forgiven me for our last tense interactions-

-I have not.

Wow ok well now you’re just being petty, you saddled me with Don Oates, don’t be a sour winner. Now is there anyone out there that can potentially beat Cyneswith and Don’s natural 3 bolts???

-Nop. 

LAKSHMI COME ON, YOU’RE NOT LOOKING HARD ENOUGH

-I’m telling you, there isn’t anyone else, they’re a perfect match!

Well I refuse to accept that reality, so hit us with your best shot.

-Whatever, it’s your money.

I mean technically it’s Jojo’s and maybe I shouldn’t be spending it so freely..

-Daddy wouldn’t have a problem with it! 💗

Yea he sure wouldn’t, Cyn, since he’s literally this post.

IS THAT ANOTHER TRICOU LOVECHILD AND THE LAMEST ONE TO BOOT???

-Yup.

HARD PASS. 

-Je suis back et je non get prόmόted agàin! :D

Another hugely successful day for Wyatt as usual. Honestly as long as you don’t get fired or demoted for a third time, whatever.

-Sό je can go to sleepé?? :D

Yea sure, it’s not like there’s anything for you to do around here now that the kids have grown up. Not that you ever did anything to begin with-

-Oui oui, all tres fascinàting, bonne nuit now!

Oh actually wait, I do need you to do something before you go to sleep for 16 hours.

-Quoi???

-Ohh, le pόrtait de le morté!

Le portrait de le morte indeed. Jojo is predictably super into his death portrait being painted, as one is. Seriously what are you doing.

-Composing a tragic opera about myself, what else.

On a casio??

-I could afford a concert piano but it wouldn’t fit into this pathetically tiny house you built, would it?

Ok I get where you’re coming from, but in my defense, given your youthful days, who the fuck could had anticipated you evolving into a financially successful and mentally stable adult instead of a bankrupt lunatic that eats his own feces?

-Oui, that’s what Shajàr est going to be! Huhu!

-HAHAHAHA oh Wyatt, you’re so attractive when you’re insulting our two terrible children. Where is that little goblin anyway?

Omfg you assholes, she went off to college yesterday.

-She did??? About time! One down, one to go. If only Cyneswith could stay here forever :(

-Oui :(

-________-

Speaking of, let’s try this one more time. Lakshmi please, for the love of god, give us something I can work with. 

-Alright fine, you wore me down. Ask..

-..and you shall receive.

OMG YAS RICKY CORMIER, I LOVE HIM AND HIS FACE TEMPLATE. What the fuck are you wearing, Rick? Don’t dress up on our account. 

-I was teleported here right from work, where the fuck am I???

That’s a great question Rick, you’re in our front yard on a date with our resident 10 nice points freakshow, Cyneswith. And I see that you have 7 nice points to Don’s 4, so you crazy kids just go ahead and hit it right off now!

-Not if I have anything to do with it!

VICTOR NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR GHOST BINGO, FUCK OFF

-It’s always the time for ghost bingo.

I try my best to make this date go well but Ricky isn’t into Cyneswith AT ALL. It’s honestly pretty offensive and I hate him now. 

‘I’ve had better dates’, you’re like 15, Casanova, calm down. What a twerp. 

With that last doomed attempt to break her and Don up, the time has come for Cyneswith to fuck off to college as well, and yes, Don is coming with us to be endlessly cheated on by Miss 20 Simultaneous Lovers/Grey Hair turn on. Fuck both mine and Don’s lives. 

As if my failure to perform a Donectomy wasn’t bad enough, what does Wyatt get the day he’s finally guaranteed to be promoted, BUT ANOTHER FUCKING CHANCE CARD, WITH WHICH HE HAS A 2 OUT OF 2 FLOPPING SCORE. One of them got him demoted, the other got him fired, it took us forever to get him the 9 fucking friends he needed, so this is just terrific. Istg I could go to a police academy in real life, graduate, join the force, rise up through the ranks and become a superhero in less time than it has taken Wyatt to do it. Here goes nothing but Wyatt’s hopes and dreams..

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FINALLY

F I N A L L Y. 

OMFG.

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS SHIT WAS LEGIT HARDER THAN KOMEI’S 6 PETS CAREER ONE, FUCKING HELL WYATT.

What a sight for sore eyes. 2 days before elderhood, but we did it, mon bebe! I’m so proud of us, but mainly me, for not giving up and making you a househusband which I know realize I should had done, because you’re so gonna destroy this city. 

-Je will savé la city! First ordér of enterprisé, àpprehending le killér seriàl knόwn as Dr. Gingér Violetté! ⭐

Oh boy. Good luck with that!

[the-library-of-theories]

Something I wrote a while back when people blamed Tommy for a lot of things... I’ll might update it with the recent events (like Tommy’s death, Jacks sudden built, etc.)

Actually, no war besides one (not the first one) was caused by Tommy.

Let me give you a comment that I’ve posted before but a bit updated.

The disc war (1 war) was caused by Dream stealing Tommy’s Disc as a result of him helping Sapnap (who asked for Tommy’s help) who was in a battle with Ponk.

The second war (L’Manburg vs. Dream SMP) was a result of Wilbur wanting independence for L’manburg. And was resolved when Tommy sacrificed his discs!!!

The third war (the pet war) was a result of Sapnap playing around and killing Niki and Tommy’s pets. But it was resolve as Tommy took a step up and asked for an apology for Niki from Sapnap to Dream as it started with Sapnap and Niki. (Later Fundy retaliated but was again resolved (Tommy had little to do with this besides giving support)).

The forth war (the railway skirmish) was a result of an accident. (And I understand that both parties in this battle are at fault so heres a point to you). This would be the only one “caused by” Tommy even though it was an accident.

The next was just an election that was handled... somewhat peacefully (mainly Wilbur fault as Tommy follows Wilbur) but is then exhiled.

The next war was the burning of the Burning Eiffel Tower which was begun by Sapnap after killing his pet cow Henry in attempts to kidnapped Henry. The last battle was the battle of the lake which allowed Pogtopia to win the first war.

The next war was Manburg vs Pogtopia. (Yes, I’m skipping the festival as it wasn’t really a war) which again was a result of the two conflicting nations. Not because of Tommy. That and Tommy tried to do the right thing as he probably knew (and took Wilbur’s words to heart about him never being president) and gave it up as he still had unfinished business with Dream.

Doomsday war... this was because of all Dream, Techno, and Tommy. Dream having what he wants, Techno wanting revenge, and Tommy wanting to right his wrongs and follow his own morals. Don’t forget that this is after he somewhat recovers from the trauma that Dream afflicted on Tommy. You can’t really recover in such short time. That and think of all the other wars he was in and participated in.

Can you say he’s not innocent? Yes. War makes people do things that will haunt them or bite back at them. (Don’t believe me? Read some history! Ask what happens to veterans who have returned from war! I have a lot of grandpas and great grandpa’s who all have participated and returned... some... couldn’t handle the peace or really return back to the life they had. Also movies don’t really help in this case as they give “happy” endings)

Does this resolve all his actions? No. Yes war makes you do bad stuff and some or many are questionable. But then again its the spur of the moment. The will to survive. Don’t get me started on the aspect of revenge. We all at one point wanted to somehow get revenge whether it be over something funny like a prank or over something serious like an ex. I’m saying this cause I know the feeling and am doing my best to not be a hypocrite and accepting that yes! At a point in my life I wanted to get revenge and was fueled by anger... I didn’t as I had a good friend who helped me think of a better way. (Mind you it was a similar situation with Tommy as someone took a special item of mine (a fan from my grandpa) and broke it. (We resolved it as he fixed it for me).

Lastly the big excuse. He’s a kid...

He’s a kid who has been through several wars... some of which he only supported his friends.

He’s a kid who’s home has been grieved, blown up, vandalize, stolen, and lost... and no one had any sort of punishment and yet when he burns one house (it was an accident as he was only just stealing (again not really helping his case)) he is suddenly exiled.

He’s a kid who’s family is either dead (Wilbur), betrayed and won’t listen (Techno (and yes, I know Tommy betrayed Techno [I’m also a Techno apologies and want them to reunited and work out the bad things] but Techno also killed Tubbo, killed Tommy, destroyed Wilbur’s memory (L’manburg), and mind you Tommy knows that Techno had to owe a favor to Dream so he knows that Techno could betray him if Dream used his favor on Tommy)), and abandoned (Philza).

He’s a kid who knows more betrayal than trust. Yet he still has the heart to put trust in others.

He’s a kid who went through hell and back with Dream. I’m surprised he is even able to keep his personality. Have you seen what abused, manipulation, and gaslighting does to a child? To a teen? Read some survivor stories of abuse, manipulation, and gaslighting! Read the symptoms of ptsd!

He’s a kid who never really had time to be a kid! For goodness sake, one of the firsts things he was thrown into was a battle!

He’s a kid who’s had to watch his brother who raised him go insane and die at the hands if his father! Mind you that Wilbur also knew the importance of the discs was to Tommy and was practically the only one to support Tommy and build L’manburg as a haven for Tommy. (I think Wilbur’s unfinished Symphony was not L’manburg but was Tommy).

He’s a kid who’s only other true friend is Tubbo (ALSO don’t get me started on Tubbo! Yes! He made Nukes. Yes, he exhiled Tommy. But mind you, just like Tommy, he’s been through war! He’s been through as much trauma as Tommy with Jschlatt. I mean if you felt unsafe and you’ve been through war, your and your best friend are on your last life, you have done all that you could and it still wouldn’t work, you’ve been manipulated, your home is gone, the nation you gave up your life for is gone, your true caretaker (Wilbur again) is dead, the other adults expect things from you, the things you have builds you’ve spent hours on destroyed, your comfort pets killed, betrayed countless times, nearly lost your last life, and just want to feel safe for once... yea... I would too build a nuke. Actually, I would have gone insane like Wilbur... I could go on but lets just continue).

He’s a kid who had to grow up fast.

He’s a kid... who is the youngest on the server.

Now?

He’s recovering.

He has adults (Awesamdude, Puffy, and even Eret) who are trying their best to help him, protect him, and be the actual role models he needs as his other models are all gone.

He has Tubbo once again who just wants to protect him.

He’s healing.

I understand that yes! He is annoying. Yes! He had crude humor... but thats what makes Tommy, Tommy!

He reminds me a lot of my younger brother and a good friend of mine.

My younger brother acts like Tommy expect for his language and humor. I love my younger brother for who he is.

My best friend has very similar humor and language to Tommy and I love that about my friend!

I understand I can’t change some minds, but at the very least let me put some thoughts.

I can understand Tommy (his character) as a person.

And I can understand Tommy (himself) as a friend.

As for Tubbo with government and nukes...

Yea I know. Even in real life, I don’t really agree with governments in general. But Snowchester isn’t really a government, I mean yea they declared independence. But really Tubbo wanted to hide from Philza and Techno as well as provide a safe haven for others.

He created nukes as a last resort to bomb Dream should he decide to attack. Mind you, now that Dream is in prison and after he tested his first bomb, he is closing project Dream as there is no use for them now that the main threat (Dream) is gone.

That and it maybe (<- just a theory!!) that it may be the key in stopping the egg. Even Ranboo supports this as he knows that the egg has bad intentions. After this though, I believe if I remember the stream right, that Tubbo decommissioned the bombs.

I’m not giving excuses for Tubbo. Again, I’d probably go insane like Wilbur. But he’s not Wilbur. He’s learning from his mistakes unlike Wilbur and Jschlatt. He just wants peace.

It might not last long as the egg might disturb the peace that Tubbo and Tommy are trying to gain back. That and we can’t forget about Jack and Niki’s attempts to assassinate Tommy.

For all we know, Tommy is Tubbo’s will to hold back from using the bombs. I rather trust Tubbo with the bombs than Tommy as Tommy while healing wants a bit of revenge on others for all that he’s been through. At least Tubbo has the gall to hold back and decommission the bombs.

I mean... Tommy is learning as well and doesn’t want a government and even turning down Tubbo’s invite to Snowchester.

Also one more thing before I sleep and never come back as I know I can’t change your mind.

But Tubbo is doing what countries are doing in real life. I mean Tubbo even said that this is based off of the Manhatten project that created the first nuclear bomb in WW2 that was suppose to be used to end all wars.

Like I said, I don’t agree with the government as well, but the bombs... from what they all been through... yea... I’d understand.

Its like what Techno said.

“The only universal language is violence”

~Technoblade

If all that was spoken to Tommy and Tubbo is violence... then what is there to say that they will start to speak it since its all that they’ve ever known?

This is one of my best explanations for Tommy and Tubbo. I know I can’t change the minds of people but I can give evidence, support, and a good perspective from the eyes of these two kids. I just wanted to give my support.

I’m definitely a Tommy apologist as well as a Tubbo and Techno apologist.

It doesn’t stop them from getting karma from the things they’ve done wrong, but know that their actions are only a result of what they have been through. It doesn’t help when you get adults who expect them to understand everything like an adult and even have the hall to put the blame on them.

I’M SPECIFICALLY LOOKING AT YOU PHIL, NIKI, AND JACK! (character wise, not actors wise)

Mostly Niki and Jack. Philza is very very slowly building his way back up with Ranboo. (I really hope so with the way things been going if not using him.... pls don’t use the poor boy for his powers! He is in a similar situation like Tommy and Tubbo.)

I tell you, if Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo has responsible adults to raise them properly like Awesamdude, Puffy, Wilbur (if he had stayed sane), and even Eret... maybe all of this could have been avoided. If all the adults could see that these four are just kids... then maybe we could have had a better outcome...

But then again, I guess...

*It was never meant to be*

[caps-lockdown]

Trick or Steve (One Shot)

chHello boo!! I are here to request a Steve x Reader halloween one shot. Where the reading is out trick or treating and runs into a few VERY realistic looking Avengers. Who she then awkwardly learns later on, were actually the real Avengers. Not just guys in costumes. 🤣 can’t wait to read what you come up with for this in Octobeeeeeeer!! 😍😍😍 eeek! So excited!!

As requested by @katurrade! I’ll be posting 4 Halloween themed one shots this month in celebration of over 100 followers and SPOOPY SEASON!!! Hope you enjoy!

In Y/N Y/L/N format.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating: PG 13 for violence, language, alcohol, party scene, adult themes (ish)

Words: 5,341

AU because no one died in Endgame, Steve didn’t go back. I can’t move on.

Summary: You’re taking your niece and nephews Trick or Treating proves to be an event in itself, but running into three of the Avengers was not part of your plan.

No beta and so I only own the mistakes and the reader!

Trick or Steve

Take the kids trick or treating your sister said. It will be fun she said.

And so here you were, taking yet another picture of yet another group of knock-off Avengers at precisely six thirty on the evening of Halloween, listening as your two nephews and niece squealed over the men dressed in painstakingly obvious mass produced costumes. They had been nice enough sure, one poorly body painted Hulk giving the kids some of the candy out of his bag when they complained the houses they had been hitting during the night were being stingy with their offerings. A  very tan, we’re talking spent- his-whole-summer-on-a-cruise-ship –in-the-Bahamas tan Hawkeye helping the youngest of the three pose correctly. It was quite cute.

“My feet hurt!” The five year old aforementioned child whined and you were suddenly aware of two things.

One, you were in no rush to have children of your own.

Two, you were entirely too sober for this.

~~~Earlier~~~

“Andy will you stand still? I need to fix your left wing.” You huffed, hot glue gun locked and loaded as you stared down at the fidgeting five year old. The living room was silent other than the preening of your sister, too caught up in snapping a thousand pictures to help you with her own kids. Gee thanks for the help Sis.

Your peripheral vision caught your niece reaching to grasp at her newly straight long blonde hair, your voice making her jump. “Hana don’t touch your hair it’s still hot from the straight iron!”

“Yea Hana leave your hair alone!” Her twin brother mocked whilst opening his third piece of candy. You raised an eyebrow as you directed your playful scolding his direction.

“Liam you take one more piece of candy out of that dish and I’m not taking you!”

“Sorry Ant.” The chorus of small voices around you had a hint of a smile cracking at your lips as you tried to remain stern. After a few extremely short minutes of holding Andy’s cardboard wing at a forty five degree angle, it looked like you had finally managed to get them even in height.

“There! Everyone ready to go?” You sat back on your heels to look at the three, a big smile overcoming your features as they all got excited over their outfits.

“But Ant,” Andy exclaimed, pointing to your sock clad feet, “You’re not wearing any shoes!”

“Thanks Buddy, you’ve just saved my entire Halloween!” You snatched your nephew and flew him through the air of the living room, the small human giggling and squealing as you made whooshing noises, his arms out in front of him. Whatever kept him in good spirits and helped the glue dry faster. Placing Andy on the floor of the foyer you made a quick grab at your heeled boots that sat by the door, zipping them up to just above your knees before standing to look in the mirror.

The black tactical suit you had made yourself looked great, the matte fabric the perfect choice for your costume. You had taken a few liberties with the original suit design, trading the slightly loose pants for something a bit more feminine and curve hugging, eighty-sixing the knee coverings and opting for sleek heeled boots instead of chunky combat ones. You were sure your feet would hate you later, but Carpe Diem right? The black straps and buckles were still covering the top half of you, although you had chosen to turn them into more of a corset of sorts, your chest pushed up under the dark gray vest you had made. It wasn’t overly cool outside so you went sleeveless, allowing for more mobility. You readjusted your hair, smoothing away any fly aways of your current bobbed style. At least you didn’t have to wear a wig. Readjusting the straps that held your very fake guns to your thighs you wrapped your hands around the handles of the three appropriately painted jack o’lanterns, the plastic thunking together as you passed them to their owners, the kids pooling around you to get a final group picture. You headed out into the crisp air as your sister waved you on, saying she and her husband would see you all later at Maria Hill’s party.

That was an hour and three groups of Avenger wannabes ago.

Of course the kids all but tackled their respective counter parts, save for Andy. You felt bad that no one had dressed up as Falcon yet, but you were constantly assuring the slightly upset child that he would see him tonight. You hoped anyway.

It was when you finished sacking the last house on the block when you saw them.

“ANT LOOK IT’S HIM IT’S HIM!!!” Andy’s shrill voice shot off with the rest of his body as he sprinted as fast as his small legs could carry him towards the three men, one of them no doubt dressed as The Falcon. You groaned as the two twins followed suit, racing to catch up, and then outrun their youngest sibling to the group of guys. You silently prayed this would be the last time for the night, your phone only able to hold so many pictures.

As you reached the three kids, once again mooning over the “superheroes” you couldn’t help but notice that their outfits looked extremely authentic. And they were equally extremely good looking. Thor’s hair was perfect, Falcon’s gapped tooth smile made you smile back. Hell even Captain America had an ass on him that made you want to sing the national anthem. Out of tune and all. Your face flushed as you came up to them, the kids talking a mile a minute and their questions making your face burn.

“Well if it isn’t the Walking Lightning Rod, Bird Brain, and America on Ice. You guys look great, did you assemble the rest of the girl scout troop or is it just you three tonight? Sorry about the kiddos. Wish I could say they’re mine, but they aren’t. Thanks in advance for being nice to them, they kinda can outrun me in these heels.” Your greeting forced the three men to break their eye contact with their miniature versions to give you a quick once over. The man dressed as Falcon took one look at your costume and about died.

“YOU DRESSED UP AS BARNES?!” He exclaimed, voice laced with gulps of air and hard laughter as you adjusted the duct tape and silver painted left arm you had fabricated. You noticed the blue eyes of Captain America’s wander over your figure as Falcon bent at the waist, trying to catch his breath and failing miserably. “Sorry it’s just…” He breathed, standing back up to fully give you a once over, “You managed to make him look good. And that’s a big deal. Doesn’t she look amazing Steve?”

The man in the mask sputtered out jumbled words in agreement, and you felt your face grow hot even though your smile grew. He took a breath and composed himself “What’s…what’s your name Doll?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, and my eyes are up here Mr. American Dream.” You caught him staring at your chest through your mostly unzipped vest as he awkwardly cleared his throat, his face a few shades of pink that you were quickly finding adorable.

“So, ahem, why the Winter Soldier?” His blue eyes sparkled when he talked to you, and man you’d be lying through your teeth if you said they weren’t making you feel some things. Out of all the Captain Americas you had met this evening, this one was very quickly becoming your favorite. You admired the long hard lines of his body, that suit not leaving much to the imagination. Jesus you could pray with your knees upward with him anytime. You snapped your head up realizing what you were doing and forced your mind to focus.

“Well it was either him or Stark, and I don’t have the face for a goatee.”

“You would have made a hilarious Tony!” Sam was laughing again, and you were trying to hold your own inside. His joyous noises were infectious.

“But what’s with your arm?” The star spangled man stuttered and you smirked, showing the kids handy work in the form of “get well soon”s, hearts and happy faces.

“Ah well you see,” You leaned in closer to the man, motioning the other two closer to you, “The kids uh, the kids think he just hurt it really bad and that it’s in a cast. I don’t have the heart to tell them the truth. Especially Andy, he’s really sensitive.” You looked pointedly down to the five year old who was clinging to the last of the three as if his life depended on it.

The Falcon gave a smiling nod before crouching down to unwind the child in question from around his legs, chuckling as the kid attempted to hold on tighter. “So your name’s Andy huh? That’s a pretty cool name kid. I’m Sam. I like your costume.”

“My Ant made it for me! I wanted to be you because I think Falcon is the coolest!” Andy pumped his fist in the air with a shrieking holler that reminded you for the eighth time that night you were too sober for this shit. But you couldn’t help but smile as he continued to gush over his favorite super hero, your heart warming to see him get the interaction you’d been hoping for all night. “He can fly!!”

“Did you make all of your garments then?” Thor’s voice was deep, booming, and beautiful and for a second you almost regretted not dressing up as him, giving him a small nod. “They are exceptional Lady Y/N.” You scoffed, waving off the compliment although it was the first one you had gotten all night.

“Yea Ant is the best fairy godmother in town!” Hana squeaked, twirling around in circles to show off her red cape that hung from her shoulders. “She worked super hard for months so we could all be our favorites tonight! Even our mom and dad have costumes!”

“So I am your favorite hero then?” Thor inquired, taking a knee to look at the small blonde girl.

“Yep! You control lightning and we both have blonde hair, and you’re really nice to girls. My momma says it’s cause your momma raised you right, and that’s why you have a kind smile. I don’t know what that means but my momma is always right.” Hana smiled, showing the tall man her missing two front teeth, who looked like he just about melted into a puddle at the girl’s statement. He opened his arms and before you could object your niece ran into them, hugging the man fiercely.

“Wow little one you are incredibly strong!” He complimented her, breaking away as she fell into a fit of giggles. “What is your name?”

“Hana!” Came the squeak of your niece, beaming with pride.

“My name’s Liam and I think Captain America is the best!” Liam piped up, finally finding his voice and bringing a large smile to his counterpart, who reached his hand out to give him a high five from his waist. “You were frozen! You have super strength and you’re like really really old.” Sam snorted at that as Liam went to cover his backside. “Like a cool old though! Not like my dad old.”

“Nice save Li,” You rolled your eyes as the man in blue laughed heartily at how much Liam looked like he was going to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

“So how old are all of you?” Sam questioned, finally giving in and hoisting Andy up to sit on his hip, you rubbing your temple in exasperation. These kids.

“I’m seven and the oldest!” Hana called, Liam shoving into her slightly.

“Only by three minutes.” She stuck her tongue out at her twin, Andy staring down at hand, hardened expression on his features as he thought up his answer. His face lit up as he swung his whole hand out, nearly falling out of Sam’s grip as his shifted his body weight in excitement.

“I’M THIS MANY!” He promptly smacked Sam in the face as he held up his small chubby digits into his field of vision.

“Oh I am so sorry, Andy my dude you gotta apologize for hitting the nice man.” You lightly scolded the child, his face falling as he avoided his gaze and stared at his bucket.

“Sorry mister Falcon sir.”

Sam grinned as he put the kid down, “It’s alright Andy, I accept your apology. And you can call me Sam. Now how about we take a photo huh?”

All the kids cheered as you pulled your phone out from your cleavage, watching Steve’s eyes widen at just where you hid your electronic device.

“Alright kids, pose like you’re about to save the city!” You snapped multiple shots, the kids breaking into different stances with their idols. Sam offered to take a picture of you next to Captain America, and after much convincing from two particular seven year olds you allowed him to oblige. You pulled out one of your guns and stood back to back with him, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it all. After he had finished capturing a few memories for you the group went to separate.

“Alright kids, we’re losing candy time and we still got hit up the rich people before we head to Miss Hill’s house for her Halloween Party! So tell the nice men goodbye and move your butts!” The kids nodded at your order, hugging the men and saying thank you.

“Miss Hill? Like Maria Hill?” Steve asked, you nodding.

“Yea she’s having a party, we worked together briefly and have stayed friends ever since. You know her?”

“We’ve..uh heard of her parties before.” The blonde smiled tightly, your bright smile making his pulse quicken.

“Cool beans well small world! If you’re in the neighborhood stop by yea? I’m sure she won’t mind! And I wouldn’t mind seeing you again blue eyes.” With a small flirty wave in Steve’s direction you were gone, moving to catch up with Hana and Andy already ahead in their trek. You came to a stop when you realized Liam wasn’t with you, turning your body to motion him with a “come on” motion. He held up a finger to you and you sighed, pointing to your nonexistent watch.

“Pssst! Mister America!” Steve crouched in front of Liam, who had called him over and was now digging through his pumpkin vigorously. You had turned your back, not wanting to intrude on their private moment, missing your cheeky nephew pull out one of your business cards from his plastic treat holder.

“What’s this?” Steve whispered, Liam’s eyes glinting with mischief as he smiled broadly in your direction. Thor was speaking into his comms link while Sam edged closer to the two to eavesdrop. Which wasn’t hard because Liam hadn’t quite mastered whispering yet.

“That’s my aunt’s number. You’re her favorite and she thinks you’re a total hottie. My mom says she needs to fall and love and get married so her womb doesn’t shrivel up and she dies alone with like eighty nine cats. So if you like her you should ask her out. She likes coffee and pink roses but hates bad breath. And A-holes who don’t use their blinker! Okay, bye!”

Sam saved his laughter for when Liam was long out of range, racing to grasp your hand as you walked away with the rest of the kids. Steve only smiled warmly at the slightly crumpled card.

“Dude I need that kid as my wing man.” Sam was shaking his head when Thor came back to them. “Nat have news?”

“Yes she believes they found the location of the Arsonist’s next target.”

With that the three men were back on the mission, their moment of carefree fun over. That was the whole reason they were in the neighborhood patrolling as it were. There had been six massive fires over the course of the last two months, all with the same cause behind them. They had gotten a letter earlier that day saying that the arsonist, Mr. Ash, yes that was what he had chosen to go by, would be striking this very evening. The team had split up to cover more ground as Nat and Pepper worked back at the tower to crack his pattern and thus tracking him down to his next target to apprehend him. They had all agreed to go to Agent Hill’s party in celebration after they caught the asshole, but now Steve was more determined than ever to make sure they made it. Even if it was just to see you again.

~~~Two Hours Later~~~

“Come on Ant, you got this!”

“Yea you can do it!”

The kids cheered you on from the front porch of Maria Hill’s home, the large basin of water and floating apples the only thing in front of you. You gave them a wink before putting your hands behind your back. Quickly finding your target you felt the cold splash of chilling water hit your senses as you dove after you prize, the kids clapping loudly as you emerged victorious. Biting into the tart granny smith you stood up wiping your eyes and smearing some of your mascara in the process.

“Pretty impressive stuff there Y/N.” Your vision adjusted to the figure of Maria, who was holding out an orange solo cup and a towel to wipe your face, which you happily took.

“Helps when you have your own cheerleading section.” You shrugged, taking a large gulp of the apple cider that had been mixed with fireball whisky. The alcohol burned your throat for a second as you weren’t expecting that much to be in it. Note to self, don’t have too many of these. She laughed and handed you your apple back, taking the slightly damp towel from you.

The five of you wandered into the spacious house where you could see everyone in costume, loud party music blaring through every room of the house, kids and adults alike playing games like Sorry and Pin the head on the Zombie. The rooms were all lit in different eerie colors, streamers and scary window clings decorated the house. There had to be at least 60 people here, and that wasn’t including those bobbing for apples or playing yard Jenga outside.

“Hey Ant Y/N look!” Liam pointed to the large T.V screen, you turning your body to face it and feeling your entire body go rigid. “It’s the Avengers from earlier! They were the real deal!”

Your eyes widened in shock as you instantly recognized three of the men from earlier, albeit their perfectly authentic suits were just a bit charred, they still looked incredible. And you looked like The Incredible Idiot. They were exiting a building that had been on fire, Thor holding a screaming man while Steve and Sam went to help put out the flames with the local fire department. You were pretty sure your face could give the warehouse a run for its money with how hot you were. You swallowed hard at the questioning look on Maria’s face, opting to just pull your phone from its hiding place and shoving it in her hand once you pulled up the photos.

“Holy shit Y/N, you didn’t tell me they were…” She tried to cover her escaping giggles with her hand as you began looking for a rock to climb under. She especially found the picture of you and the very real and very handsome Steve Rogers to be absolutely hilarious.

“How was I supposed to know Maria?! They were like the fourth group of Avengers and I was completely done with the whole thing by group two!” You whined, sitting down in a large overstuffed recliner with an ungraceful thump. This was single handedly the most embarrassing moment of your entire existence. And that was saying something. You had once forgotten to wear pants to school your sophomore year of high school and had to loan a pair of god awful gym shorts from your best guy friend at the time. They did not smell clean and didn’t match your bright orange fall sweater. It was also Winter, and the shorts were two sizes too big. You never thought anything would top that. “I’m just going to die here now.”

Needless to say between finding out they had met their actual heroes and all of the candy, the kids were absolute beasts to put to bed. Maria had been kind enough to let them crash on an air mattress in a spare room upstairs when your sister and brother in law texted saying they were running a bit behind. They had won first place in the costume contest at their party, so they were celebrating a little longer than intended. When you realized your plans had changed, you had opted to have a couple more drinks. It’s not like the absolutely attractive earth savers would actually show up.

“Heeey the party still going on?!” Sam’s deep voice came bellowing through the house while you were draining your third drink, nearly choking as the three Avengers from earlier, and an extra few including the one you had dressed as entered the living room. You quickly dodged your way into the kitchen, wondering silently if you could fit in the very tiny water heater closet and they wouldn’t even know you were there. You listened as the room gave them a round of applause, finally reaching your “fuck it” meter for the night and pouring yourself another drink. You were never a lightweight, but the effects of the booze would at least keep you from being a total freak when you came in contact with them.

“Y/N you’re still here, how fortuitous!” Thor clapped loudly causing you to jump and sputter into your cup. You steeled your nerves and turned around and felt your face pale for the second time that night. That was a habit you didn’t need to be forming.

“So I am.” You pretended to shrug in indifference, a small shy smile on your features. “You guys were pretty great out there tonight, thanks for catching that asshole and saving that family. Guess that’s why Stark keeps you around huh?”

“Well it’s isn’t because they’re pretty to look at, but everyone’s a critic. Tony Stark. Hi, great to meet you.” The man wearing a simple “This is my Halloween costume” tee shirt approached you, you smiling wider and shaking his extended hand. “I see you’ve met my coworkers. Wilson told me about the names you called them tonight, they were great. Mind if I steal them?”

“Oh umh, um, no not at all!”

“Great, because I was going to regardless.” He winked and moved to the side, allowing you to introduce yourself to Clint and Natasha, who shook your hands with happy chuckles.

“Nice arm.”

“Thanks, made it myself.” You winked at the woman who shook her head at you, Bucky coming up with to stand next to Steve, giving you a once over.

“See Barnes didn’t I tell you? She made you look good for once!” Sam slapped the quiet man on the back, earning a glare from his otherwise stoic face.

“Shut up Wilson.” Bucky responded, rubbing the back of his neck. “But yea, you actually look pretty great. I can see why Steve here was all bent out of shape thinkin he wasn’t going to see you again tonight.” Came his gruff reply, his blonde friend groaning and jabbing an elbow into his side. “Ouch. What where you’re throwing that thing Punk.”

You brought your vision to look at the handsome Captain, wondering if it were possible to drown in his blue eyes. You felt yourself smiling, your eyes crinkling as you took a step closer to him, watching him swallow hard. “Awwwh. Did you miss me Captain?”

“Are you kidding? He’s the whole reason why we had to work double time at tracking the arsonist down, just so he could see you.” Sam grinned, running to hide behind a very amused Tony as Steve contemplated murder for the sixth time that evening. “He wouldn’t shut up about you boo..”

“Mister Sam… Falcon…sir?” You were never so thankful for a child in your entire life. All of you turned to look at Andy who stood alone in the kitchen doorway, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. His wings were long since off of him, you knowing full well with his thrashing the cardboard and hot glue would not withstand the rage of a five year old with constant night terrors.

“Yea buddy it’s me. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“You have a nightmare again Andy?” His teary nod at you had you placing your cup on the counter, leaning down to motion him to you. He hurried into your arms, you effortlessly picking him up, taking your silver arm covering off to allow yourself more range of motion as you cradled your sobbing nephew.

“Shhh you’re okay my dude, I’ve got you.” You muttered, listening to him cry uncontrollably into your neck, the evidence of his emotions soaking into your skin. “Tell me what you dreamt.”

“It was AWFUL Ant!” The boy exclaimed, pushing off of you slightly to look at Sam, tears still stinging his eyes. “Yo…you guys..didn…didn’t make it…out and the the building..” He started crying again and you felt the whole room melt around you.

“Hey Andy it’s okay see, we’re okay though.” Sam whispered reassuringly, asking you without words to take the child, which you gave him over with a nod. “See look, no harm done.” He let the little boy place his chubby hands all over his face, brushing over the soot and ash that had stuck to the man’s skin.

“…but what about smoke infal..mathc..ion? Momma says you can…di..die from too much smoke infalmathcion.” The brunette boy hiccupped at Sam, and you didn’t miss Tony’s huge smile at the kid’s difficulty at pronouncing big words.

“We’re gonna be fine. Don’t you worry. Takes a lot more than nasty smoke to take out the Avengers, don’t you think?”

“Y..yea! You guys are the best in the whole galaxy!” Andy cheered, as if he hadn’t had a complete meltdown just moments prior. Sam smiled back at him, turning his head to mouth a simple “I’m gonna keep him.”

You were almost tempted to let him, until you remembered he wasn’t yours.

“Hey there’s my little love bug!” Your sister cooed from the hallway, stopping for no one as she reached for her son, eager to hold him.

“Uh honey…” Your brother in law motioned to the group of super heroes, her face reddening as she looked at Natasha and Clint, who looked back at their doppelgangers with wide eyes. Tony and Thor howled with laugher as the pair took an extra step apart from each other as they took in your sister and his costumes. “I never thought we would meet like this. Man no one is going to believe me at the office on Monday.”

“Of course they will, you’ll have proof!” Tony belted, motioning for Maria to come and take pictures of everyone. You all elected to stand on the front yard, your sister going to drag the sleepy kids out of their slumber so they could be a part of it. After many different poses and many different phones later, everyone seemed happy with their captured memories.

“Night night Ant Y/N, sleep tight. Don’t let the bad guys bite!” Liam joked, the two of you breaking into your secret handshake.

“And if they do, I’ll beat them til they’re black and blue with my shoe!” You called back, hugging Hana and waving to Andy who was already nearly passed out in his dad’s arms. He gave a half wave back, all of their figures fading into the distance as they swam through the sea of parked cars.

The rest of the party cleared out a bit later, you staying behind to help clean up the apocalypse level mess in Hill’s house.

“You’re really great with kids Y/N.” Steve held the trash bag open as you piled cans and cups into it, meeting his gaze with a grin.

“Only because they’re related to me.” You admonished, the large man chuckling as you continued about the living room, you both being the only ones in there while the others helped take down decorations in the other rooms and outside. “Listen about earlier, I’m sorry if I may have seemed a little forward. I had no idea it was actually you and I’m not normally that flirty.”

“Ah I see. Well if it helps I’m not offended.”

You shot your head up to look at him, arm mid swipe to push more cups into the trash bag. “You’re…not?”

“Nope. Especially knowing I’m a total hottie, and your favorite. According to Liam anyway.” Your voice died in your throat as the man lost in time actually had the nerve to wink at you. You placed the cups in the bag, coming up to your full height to stare at him. Your feet were burning from the whole night in heels but you’d be damned if you backed down now. You didn’t know if you wanted to kill your nephew or hug him until he complained about it.

“Oh really? Well then can I ask you out for a cup of coffee sometime?” You spoke lightly, question almost coming out in a whisper on account of your nerves.

“Sure, I’ve got no plans in the morning.���

“Eleven work? I’ll be dead with a hangover until at least ten.” He laughed at your honesty, reaching to pull out his phone so you could type your number in. You procured your phone from its warm resting spot, taking extra care to slow your movements. Steve actually looked away from you after staring for a beat or two, his ears the same shade of pink from earlier. Cute.

“As long as we can yell at a-holes who don’t use their blinkers, sure.” Hug Liam it is. “There’s a café on 23rd and maple by the tower…”

“Queenie’s?” You finished, smiling brightly at Steve who nodded back enthusiastically. “Then it’s a date Cap.”

“Yep,” He pulled you into a surprising yet warm hug, you nose breathing him in and taking note that he smelled exactly how you thought he’d smell. All masculine and deep and smooth and rough and your brain stopped trying to think of good words to use. He offered to walk you to your sister’s house, a pensive look washing over you as you looked at the clean living room.

“What about saying goodbye to the others?”

“What, like you’re never going to see them again? Not if I can help it” He mentioned nonchalant, another blush sweeping over your face as he bluntly admitted to seeing you more than once. You only nodded, accepting defeat as he put his arm around your shoulders to keep you warm on your walk home, not that you needed it with the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

A short fifteen minute stroll of content and happy chitchat about yourselves later you were at your sibling’s door, finding the spare key in a ceramic frog just along the edge of the fish pond that sat on the left side of their stairs.

“Well this is me, see you at eleven hundred?” He smiled at you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Eleven-hundred. Pleasant screams Y/N.” You outwardly giggled at his pun as he pulled back, turning towards the street and walking away with a noticeable pep in his step.

Take the kids trick or treating your sister said. It will be fun she said.

She was right for once.

End

Taglist: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more @cuffski @chrisevansfanfic @zombiepotterfour 

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Impress You

word count: almost 2k? I think idk

warnings: total fluff, some curse words, awkward warren, a lowkey shitty ending bc I didn't know how to end it and I got wifi for a sec so I rushed it a lil:/

so a while ago i read a warren fic where his wings would puff up around the reader bc his bird instinct was trying to impress her and i really loved it but i can’t find it so i’m writing this one :)) + this is post apocalypse where warren is a student but doesn’t have his metal wings or face tattoos so just bear with me here boys-- also the reader has a healing mutation :))

Warren had decided to skip third period, too embarrassed to face (Y/n) again that day. He had first seen her on his way to the cafeteria to pick up breakfast. She had a tray in her hands, full of different breakfast food, and she had come up to talk to Warren (as friends do). “Hey Warren! Want half of this croissant? I’m not that hungry.” Once her voice met his ears, his wings decided to stretch out and puff up, successfully knocking her tray out of her hands, spilling her tea and making her croissant hit the floor. Warren had only been able to stumble an apology before rushing out of the cafeteria, instead heading to first period where he could hopefully hide his embarrassment. 

Lately his wings had decided that they had a mind of their own. Whenever (Y/n) was present they would expand to their full length (almost 10 fucking feet) and often ended up hitting people. (Y/n) was in his third period and he just couldn’t handle making a fool of himself in front of her twice in one morning. Warren was already 90% sure that (Y/n) didn’t like him and he really didn’t want to give her another reason to not like him (he was pretty sure that getting hit by his wings would do the trick). 

After being dismissed from second period, Warren quickly moved down the hallway, heading towards the boys dorm hallway. He had his head down, making sure no one would recognize that he was heading to his room instead of third period. As he turned a corner, about to cross into the boy’s dorm hallway, he felt his body collide with another. “Ouch- oh! Hey Warren, you kinda sped off fast during breakfast. I was looking for you actually- wanted to give you this.” (Y/n) moved closer to him, offering him half a croissant like she had tried to do earlier. 

“O-oh hi-sorry, (y/n)-” As soon as her name left his mouth his wings were back at it. They stretched out and all his feathers puffed up like they were trying to make themselves bigger. He, thankfully, didn’t hit her this time, but did manage to smack Peter right in the face as he was running by. “Jesus, Big Bird, watch it!” He then sped back off, not making a big deal out of it, but Warren still turned red. 

“Are you okay? Seems like you’re having muscle spasms or something.. I could take a look. I’m finally starting to get my healing stuff under control so maybe I could help.” Of course she wants to help (she’s so nice to me, why is she so nice to me?), but god she’s just making it worse, he thought. Warren just shook his head, unable to form a sentence. “Well.. okay, but here, you should eat.” She offered him the croissant half, which he took with an unsteady hand. 

After a moment of Warren not saying anything, just looking at his shoes, (Y/n) decided to try and start a conversation again. “Do you want to walk to 3rd together?” Warren looked up at her this time and saw that she was offering him a gentle smile. This made Warren blush harder. God Warren, please pull yourself together! 

He decided to walk past her without saying anything, hoping that would take away his awkwardness. She turned around to watch him walk towards his room. “O-okay then. Bye Warren, I’ll see you later... I guess.” Great, Warren, now she hates you even more. You are just a genius, aren’t you? He felt ashamed for how he handled that awkward situation, but what was he supposed to do? Talk to her? I can’t talk to her, he thought. She doesn’t want to talk to me.

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten from the awkwardness of that interaction. Is it because I kept offering him a croissant? He doesn’t want a croissant! Why was I so hell bent on giving him a croissant? Or was it because I offered to help him? He probably doesn’t want my help- I mean I can barely control my mutation-oh god. (Y/n)’s mind continued to spiral with thoughts about Warren until she sat down at her desk for third period. She had taken a liking to Warren almost as soon as she had met him. After the whole apocalypse incident, Professor Xavier had allowed him to enroll in the school, hoping to save him from joining bad forces again. (Y/n) had been assigned to help him heal and regrow his original wings. Even though she wasn’t the best healer at the time (and still wasn’t the best now), she did help with gathering supplies, checking his vitals, and keeping him calm. 

His metal wings had been badly damaged from his fall during the battle. She had kept him calm while others worked to remove the damaged metal, freeing up his back to regrow his feathered wings. It had taken a few weeks for them to get back to their fully grown state and (Y/n) couldn’t get over how gorgeous they were. She found herself on multiple occasions ruffling his feathers when she was supposed to be assisting others in the infirmary. Warren would never admit it, but he loved the feeling of her hands touching him in a gentle manner like she did. He hadn’t been treated with such care and gentleness in a long time.

During the time they spent together, Warren began to feel things towards her as well. They rarely spoke while he was in the infirmary, but the soft touches and warm smiles was all it took for Warren to fall head over heels for her. After his wings were done growing, they didn’t see each other at all until they were put in the same biology class this semester, in which (Y/n) had decided to step up her game and try to speak to him everyday, hoping to get closer to him. Warren admired this about her and he would’ve loved to get closer as well, but his mouth never cooperated. He was always tripping over his words or getting tongue tied, and now with the wings thing it was so much worse. 

After fourth period, (Y/n) made her way to the cafeteria, hoping to see Warren and spark up a conversation since she wasn’t able to do so in biology. She hoped it would go better than her attempt in the hallway that morning. (Y/n) saw Warren sitting with Ororo and Kurt. Since they were all newer to the school they became quite close with each other. (Y/n) was honestly quite jealous of the two, it seemed like Warren could have an actual conversation with them, but for some reason (Y/n) was just too awkward to talk to. Or at least- that’s what she thought.

“You smacked her tray out of her hands?” Ororo was confused at the image of this. “I know that some guys think that teasing is a good way of flirting, which I suppose it can be, but that’s too far.” Warren just rolled his eyes, “I didn’t mean too, okay? It just happened- it’s actually been happening a lot lately and I’m not sure why. My wings accidently smacked Peter in the face too.” 

Kurt was surprised by this, “Why would you smack Peter? Peter is nice.” Kurt’s half full mouth and strong accent made him difficult to understand, especially in the noise of the cafeteria, so Warren just shrugged, hoping that would end the conversation. Warren continued eating his food (shitty cafeteria pizza) until he heard a chair at their table pull out. He looked up, meeting (Y/n)’s eyes for a moment before quickly going back down to his food. Before he knew what was happening he felt his wings stretch out, hitting Ororo who was seated next to him. “What- what are you doing?” She asked while struggling to move his feathers out of her face. “I don’t- I um-” Warren had no clue what to say so he immediately stood up and headed outside towards the pond, where hopefully he wouldn’t hit anyone anymore or embarrass himself. Once he sat down his wings finally closed up. 

“Why do you guys keep doing this to me, huh? Do you just want me to suffer?” He heard leaves crunching behind him and quiet laughter, making him turning his head. “Are you talking to your wings?” (Y/n) took a seat next to him, still laughing after seeing him scolding his wings. “Yea, well, I-um. Yea, they just- poof up-and i-i uh, yea.” He felt his face heat up again for at least the third time that day. Why the hell do you keep blushing, Warren?- just calm down, god. 

She just nodded. “Hm yeah. How long have they been doing that?” He shrugged at her question before responding (or at least attempting too). “Just-uh- p-past few days.” She nodded again, moving to sit behind him. “Let me see if I can find something causing it.” 

As soon as she placed her hands on his back his wings puffed up again and stretched out. “Woah! I don’t feel anything though.” Warren felt his face burn even hotter, he had never felt so embarrassed and it was even worse that is was happening in front of her. I’ve already made a fool of himself like four times today, she must think I’m just- weird, oh god. 

Warren decided he needed to go to run from his embarrassment (again), so he jumped up and did a low fly to the main building, heading towards his room. (Y/n) once again wasn’t sure where things went wrong. Is it because I touched him? Or does he just not like me at all?

That was the last she saw of Warren for the rest of the week. He continued to skip 3rd period to avoid her and he decided to eat all meals in the privacy of his room. 

By Friday afternoon, (Y/n) was sick of not seeing him. She started to actually get worried that his muscle spasms might be causing more damage than he thinks. At lunch on Friday, (Y/n) went up to Ororo’s table, hoping to find some answers to why Warren was avoiding her and what was wrong with him.

“Hey, Ororo- can I sit and talk for a minute?” Ororo only nodded her response, hands and mouth full of a cafeteria grilled cheese. “So-um, I know you are Warren are close and I was just wondering why...” (Y/n) looked down at the table, suddenly feeling shy. Why am I bothering her with this? I sound so desperate, oh my god. 

“He’s only had that problem with you as far as I know.” (Y/n) looked up at her, “Which problem?” 

“The wing thing. Whenever you come up or talk to him it happens, not sure why though. He’s just trying to save himself from some embarrassment by avoiding you.”

“Oh-” (Y/n) stood up after processing her words. “Thanks, I’ll-uh, I’ll see you around, Ororo, thanks.”

Warren was sitting on his cold bed, eating a grilled cheese, when he heard a knock at his door. He stood up and opened it, thinking it would be Ororo or Kurt, who had both been helping him sneak off to eat in his room. “H-hey, Warren.”

His eyes met hers and his wings puffed up again. “H-hi.” He tried to close them up, but they stayed open, not obeying him. “I-um, I just wanted to talk to you about why you’ve been avoiding me.” Warren’s red face burned even harder at this statement. “I-I haven’t.. I’m not-” 

“Warren.” She cut off his rambling. “I think I know what’s happening to you.” She gestured at his open wings. He nodded for her to continue, his eyes on the floor. "In Biology today, which I guess you weren't there.. but anyways, we learned about sexual selection." (Y/n) felt her face burn at the thought of sexual things with Warren. Warren face heated up too, trying not to think where this was going, he was pretty sure he knew. "It's like- um, like peacocks.. the males have colorful feathers and they show them off to impress females..." As she said it, (Y/n) started to get worried that she had the wrong idea of what was happening, but it was too late to take it back so she just kept going. "Maybe you were trying to... impress me? But you just didn't know it.."

Warren was silent, not sure what to say. I think she's right, oh God this is so much worse than I could've imagined oh boy. "Nevermind, you know it's- it's stupid, sorry." As (Y/n) turned to leave his doorway, Warren surprised himself, reaching out to grab her arm, pulling her towards him. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then pulling away before looking down again. "I-uhm. I think you're right.." He looked up into her eyes, she was as red as he was, giving him a sweet smile. "That's- that's great, yeah." She nodded, still in shock from his soft lips touching hers. "I'm glad that I'm right, that's good.." He nodded before placing his lips back on hers, arms wrapping around her waist while hers traveled to his golden hair.

[iloveyouthree-thousand]

because I don’t know what I’d do without you

Spoiler-free. Post SMHC. 

//

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

"Uh," Peter flings another web, "Karen, don't pick that up. Text Mr. Stark and tell him I'm at Ned's—no, doing homework—er, something."

"Message to Tony Stark sent."

Peter sighs, hoping that will hold off his mentor for a few more minutes while he chases down the masked men. He slings himself from building to building, keeping the black car below in his line of vision.

"Mr. Parker, your location is currently being tracked by Tony Stark."

"Shit—shoot—scramble the signal. I just need ten more minutes to—h-hey, Mr. Stark!"

The face of Iron Man appears in the left corner of his screen.

"Oh, you did not just try to scramble the tracking signal that I, the world's most underpaid babysitter, specifically installed for you."

Peter tried to keep his breathing even as he kept bouncing from building to building, conjuring up an excuse for being in the suit.

"See, Mr. Stark," he started before he was promptly cut off.

"Unh-uh. Nope. No tinkering with the ridiculously expensive toy I stupidly gave you and absolutely no turning it against me," he paused, "Karen that goes for you too."

Peter tries to think of something to say to defend himself, but his hesitation prompts Tony to continue.

"Comprende, kid? Karen, translate 'comprende' for him."

"Certainly. Comprende is a Spanish word meaning, 'do you understand'?"

"Oh, and yea, I saw the grade you made on that Spanish test last week. Don't think we're not going to have a chat about that later."

"Yes sir," he groans, straining to see the car as the sky around him grows darker.

The call ends abruptly and with no further questioning on Peter's whereabouts, much to his surprise. He doesn't even register the goosebumps on his arm because he's promptly searching for the van again.

"Crap," he says, squinting his eyes into the busy streets below.

Then he sees it. Peter follows the car down a side street and into an empty alley, but six alien guns are trained on him the moment he swings himself into view. It's an ambush.

"Hey Karen, I think some of those Taser webs would come in handy right about now."

In a split second his hands are up, and his eyes reflexively snap shut as an enormous jolt of electricity stuns the crew in the alley, their bodies shaking as the weapons drop to the ground.

His eyes open tentatively and train on the incapacitated criminals in front of him, "Whoah, that was awesome!"

"You b-bastard," one of the men behind the masks manages to sputter out as Peter starts webbing up the weapons and moves them safely out of reach.

"Hey now, I don't think that kind of language is—," but he's cut off by a voice from behind him.

"I think our friend was talking to me, kid."

Tony would have paid for a framed picture of the look on Peter's face as he turned around because, even with the mask on, it was priceless.

"Homework, was it?" He asks a still-stunned Peter before turning his attention to the men in the alley.

"Alright ridiculously generic bad guys," a suit-clad Stark pauses, looking the crew up and down, "I mean ski masks? Really?"

A man spits at Iron Man's feet, and Tony rolls his eyes in glorious fashion before grabbing Peter by the collar.

"As fun as this has been, it's giving me wicked flashbacks to the plot of every single bland movie Rhodey has ever conned me into watching."

He points his thrusters toward the ground and the suit flies into the sky, cradling a protesting Spider-Man in its arms.

"Mr. Stark, we can't just leave them there!"

"Relax kid, the Tasers will keep them occupied until the police get there. Believe it or not, but they are qualified to take care of criminals."

Peter huffs and squirms against the metal suit.

"Kid, do you want to be scraped off the streets of New York?"

"You're carrying me like a baby!" Peter whines, still wriggling in Tony's grasp.

"What's that phrase that parents use all the time? Act like a child and I'll treat you like one?"

Peter finally gives in and relaxes, the Avengers Tower in sight.

"Mr. Stark, I had it under control."

Tony’s feet hit the landing pad of the tower and he unceremoniously drops Peter onto the ground before stepping out of the suit.

"Oh, right, silly me. I forgot that walking straight into six giant guns is a controlled scenario," Peter opens his mouth in an attempt to counter him but the older man isn't done.

"I'm not much of a gambler, but in a game of teenage mutant vs. alien weapons, I'm not betting the beach house on you. I don't care if those goons look like they're straight out of a Home Alone movie." Tony walks through the glass doors, leaving Peter no choice but to follow.

"I don't need a babysitter, Mr. Stark. When are you going to just trust me? I can handle myself out there. If you would've just given me five more minutes I w—."

"Five more minutes and I might've been sending Happy's ass down there to clean spider guts off of the brick wall! This is the third time this week that you've been in over your head kid."

"Stop calling me a kid!" He yells, hating how horribly childlike the sound is coming from his mouth.

"I'm the adult. Until you can drive yourself to school instead of taking the magic school bus, I reserve the right to call you kid. And as long as you're a kid and I'm an adult, I make the rules, which means no more patrolling for the rest of the week."

Tony cringes a bit at his own words, but he's watched that kid literally stare down the barrel of a gun too many times. Peter may be superhuman, but he's not invincible, and Tony isn't taking any more chances.

"You can't do that! I need to patrol, or people are going to get hurt!"

"Do I need to repeat myself? Adult," he says, pointing to himself, and then he turns his finger toward Peter, "and kid. I make the rules here, and I say no more patrolling for the rest of the week. You keep talking back and I'll make it two weeks."

"You're not my dad!" The words blurt out of Peter's mouth before he's even aware of them.

Tony stops breathing, his body rigid and his heart racing as he stares straight at Peter. Silence hangs thickly in the air.

Peter's voice is wobbly, softer, as he repeats, "you're not my dad." He blinks quickly to suppress the wetness in his eyes and bites his cheek to hold back a hoarse sob.

Tony is glued to the spot, arms and legs frozen, eyes looking like something on a spectrum between a deer in headlights and a kicked puppy.

He doesn't react as Peter walks to the door, wrist aimed at the sky before disappearing into the dark.

It takes a whole seven minutes for the never-fazed Tony Stark to regain his surroundings.

The kid is right—he's not his father. Hell, if Peter ever called him 'dad' he'd probably shit his pants. And yet his chest hurt in a way that even the shrapnel from all those years before couldn't even begin to compare to.

Tony doesn't know what he wants or needs to say, but he needs to say something, or scream, or just collapse. His breathing comes back now, rapid and shallow. The more he thinks the faster he breathes and he doesn't realize he's having a panic attack until he's in the middle of it.

His feet start moving toward the window to the spot where the boy in blue and red had vanished just minutes before. He only has to spread his arms before the Iron Man suit gracefully conforms to his body.

Tony finds Peter on a rooftop in Queens. The emotional haywire has the boy's senses working on overdrive, and he hears him coming long before the billionaire takes the seat next to him.

Peter's been crying, not even trying to conceal wet traces of tears on his cheeks. The anger and frustration he felt earlier is gone now, replaced by strong pangs of guilt and a terrible feeling of emptiness.

They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Tony finds his voice.

"Look kid—Pete," he quickly corrects, "I don't want to be your dad."

The words pierce Peter, his worst fear beginning to come to life; Tony telling him he doesn't want to be a part of his life. No more helping with projects in the shop, no more conferences at MIT, no more pizza dinners.

Tony hears a muffled sound come from Peter, and then sniffling.

"No—I mean—I don't want to replace your father. Or Uncle Ben. I will never and can never be for you what they were, and I wouldn't want to. They are both one-hundred times the man I am. So, I'm sorry, if that's how I've been acting, because those guys are special Pete, and I don't want to overstep."

Peter doesn't even take a breath before he starts rambling a barely coherent response.

"No, no, Mr. Stark, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that—I didn't mean it. I was just, you know, this week is one year since... since my powers, and, you know, Ben’s... I should've stopped it. I could've stopped it, I was just, I have these powers and I didn't use them, and then someone I loved died. And that's why I was out late, because I can't stop patrolling, I just can't."

His voice is taut and brittle, and Tony turns his body to face him.

"Peter, you can't hold onto that guilt. The moment you start blaming yourself for people's deaths... there's no coming back."

The vision cast on him by Wanda comes screaming through Tony's mind, the faces of his friends lying dead around him, then, the video of his parents brutally murdered on the side of the road.

Peter's wide eyes look up at him, and for the first time Tony notices the redness in his waterline and the puffiness under his lashes.

"I have nightmares sometimes, and I just watch Ben fall to the ground over and over and over again, and it's all my fault. I can't let go of the guilt, Mr. Stark. Please don't be mad at me, because I—I know I have May, and I love May, she's my whole world, and—and you're not my dad," Peter visibly winces, "I know made that abundantly clear earlier... but you're the closest thing I have, and I don't know what I'll do if I lose that too. I can't lose that too."

It kills Tony to see the hurt in Peter's eyes, to see how the pain in his eyes betray the fact that he's only fifteen because he's already been dealt more blows than most people are in an entire lifetime.

"Peter, I'm not going anywhere. Ever. You and I, we have a lot more in common than I want to admit sometimes. It's why I like you so much," Peter gives a ghost of a smile at this, "and also why I'm out of my mind with worry sometimes. I see myself in you, which is absolutely petrifying. I wouldn't wish the pain or guilt that comes with losing the people who mean the world to you on Satan himself, let alone you."

"I know that feeling of emptiness, of guilt, of needing to do whatever it takes to try and fill that space and to lift some—even just a fraction—of that weight off of your chest. And I know that, if you're as much like me as I think you are, no amount of me telling you to let go of the guilt is ever going to make actually letting go of it any easier, so I'm not going to make you stop patrolling. But, maybe meet me halfway and call me before you throw yourself into the middle of a gun show?"

Peter grins, nodding his head up and down as Tony throws his arm over his shoulders.

"Because I don't know what I'll do if I lose you either kid."

Peter just buries his head into the older man's shoulder, and they sit like that until Tony finally interrupts.

"And Pete? Don't think this means I forgot about that Spanish test."

[alvaar-aldaviir]

Movement: Melancolico Part 2/3

Time Frame: Heavensward. Spoilers accordingly.

Notes: Trigger Warnings for a more personal and introspective look at grief and depression, as well as accompanying thoughts of suicide.

This is by far the darkest piece posted thus far, but it’s important to Alvaar’s character and I don’t like to gloss over the impact it left on him and his subsequent relationships with others. Scions especially.

Cross-posted to Ao3.

  -

Alvaar has never been the sort to give himself time for pause. There was too much to do as the Warrior of Light, too many wrongs to try and right as the world shifts under his feet after the Vault. But having ripped yet another tyrant from his throne and finally taking time to grieve...

Why is it the hardest battle he's had to face is the frozen state of his own blackened heart?

An introspection on grief and depression, and the importance of the people who stay by your side. Third chapter incoming. Yes it got longer.

-

The wrought iron of the guard rail was firm and unyielding under his hand, slick with ice as everything was in Ishgard. It bit with frozen fangs at his skin but whatever chill resided in him must have bitten back harder for it didn’t bother him.

It was only him, that unyielding iron, and a siren song of wind above an eternity of darkness. The howl of gales like a primal song, and if he listened...

just LISTENED

Then surely he’d find his answer. Find why no matter how hard he clutched at his chest his frozen heart wouldn’t let him grieve properly. Wouldn’t let him scream in pain and outrage and finally let whatever fire burned in the back of his eyes to slip free.

To feel SOMETHING, ANYTHING, for the death of a man he’d loved.

A deep breath.

Then two.

If he listened just a bit closer. Leaned out a bit farther...

He heard someone call his name. Whispered against his ear softly like those nights they’d been together.

Like a quiet promise.

An affirmation.

Someone who saw HIM under the mantle of a hero.

He blinked, ears twitching at a thought that came back to him in Haurchefant’s voice. When he’d looked over the summary he’d written as reference regarding Edda, once he’d finally felt capable of putting that story to pen that it might help him cope.

I know you love a good drama my dear, but this is a bit much.

“.... yea. It really is isn’t it?” he whispered to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Next thing you know I’ll be in Amdapor Keep trying to bring you back from the dead and it will all get pretty fucked up from there. And it’s been done before, I can’t wear another person’s plot, too tacky...”

“ALVAAR!”

The cry nearly spooked the Bard over, quite abruptly getting the wind knocked out of him as he was slammed up against the sturdy railing he’d been standing before, the top bar hitting him square in the stomach. Scrambling for a grip that refused him, he could only give a choked squeak as he was hauled backwards and off balance to crash into the floor, head twinging in pain as it connected with stone briefly but thankfully not very hard.

An equally pained grunt sounded from underneath him, some brief swirl of static in Alvaar’s brain at last settling into the notion the floor was not as flat as it should be, and instinctively trying to shift away.

The arms clutched around his waist like a vise however, were not to be dissuaded.

“What in the seven hells were you doing?!” a familiar voice yelled into his shoulder, cracking a bit on the pitch and making the Bard twitch on reflex, and then again as it sank in he’d just heard Alphinaud swear.

“Alphi...?” he started, voice trailing as he distantly realized the slim Elezen mostly buried under him where they’d fallen was shaking.

“By the Twelve what were you thinking?! Half leaned over the rail like you we-” the hoarse tirade finally cracked and broke off as the Arcanist buried his face into Alvaar’s shoulder. “You could have... you couldhave-”

A slight wince touched the Bards face as fingers spread and dug into his side in a last desperate grapple to keep him from moving, needle pricks of pain that suddenly fell from thought at the choked sob into his shirt.

“Don’t leave me too...”

There was a startled thump in his chest, his heart pulsing off beat at that pain filled whimper and in a sudden rush he finally noticed how much his face and hands stung like he’d been caught in a shower of cactaur needles. Everything prickled, and ached, and he was certain this must be the most miserably cold he’d ever felt in his life.

“Don’t leave me! First Grandfather, then Alisaie, then the Braves, and the Scions, now Lord Haurchefant and Ysayle and Estinien... don’t be the next one to leave me behind!” he cried.

“Alphi,” Alvaar managed again, this time a slight shake in the word as his teeth chattered with a shiver. He pried the Arcanist off him just enough to turn and bury him in his arms, hauling them both a bit farther into the room where he could kick the patio door closed. In the rush of warm air that followed he shivered again, feeling both frozen and burning up from the heat.

Finally sinking into the thick carpet, he sighed and held Alphinaud tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere, Leveilleur. I’m still here,” he whispered, tucking him under his chin and squeezing him briefly.

“T-then why were you.... Alvaar...” Butting his head a bit harder into the Bards collar than he meant to, Alphinaud tensed for a moment before snapping at him. “Why did you lock the door?!” he demanded, gripping the Bards collar and shaking him firmly with a sudden temper.

“I... I don’t know,” Alvaar replied softly. “Habit probably.”

“And you were outside during a blizzard and I thought you were going to... A-Alvaar you looked like you were-”

He was silenced as the Bard yanked him back into another hug.

“No,” he replied firmly. “I’m not going anywhere, that’s a promise. You still need to tell me how that story ends, and I need to see how Tataru’s needlepoint comes out... We’re going to save this damn country, and rescue Estinien, and any day now we’ll hear from Urianger that another of our friends contacted him and we’ll all soon be back in the Rising Stones where we belong! I’m not leaving you to face that alone Leveilleur on that you have my word!” Alvaar snapped back, voice suddenly firm with conviction.

Yes, of course. How could he forget? How could his thoughts have even passingly considered that fall? He’d made a promise hadn’t he? To protect Alphinaud and Tataru.

He was still awaiting a letter back from one of the members of his Free Company. There were still those Ishgard recipes he needed to learn...

He felt slim arms wrap around his chest, fingers clutching into his shirt and his heart squeezed a bit at the faint shaking of his charge as Alphinaud tried to hold back his tears. Damnit... he was supposed to be the one steady constant this boy could rely on and once again he’d... Another shiver racked through him stubbornly, cold fire still burning across his skin and he did his best to ignore it. No, he could worry about his own problems later and it probably served him right and-

He opened his eyes and jerked slightly at the bright glowing red of a ruby carbuncle sniffing at him. Large dark eyes regarded him, and maybe it was just from being this close to one of the summons but he could have sworn it seemed a little more... intelligent than the rest he’d seen in his travels.

Another shudder went through him from the bone deep chill and the carbuncle cocked its head to the side slightly before perking up as its master moved.

Alphinaud let go of the Bards shirt only so he could make some gesture Alvaar couldn’t see and tap the open floor near his hands. It took a second attempt for a soft quick whistle to pass his lips and the summon bounded away.

Thoroughly confused, the Bard didn’t have long to ponder it before one of the lighter blankets on the bed fell onto him, earning a faint curse. A soft snort left the Arcanist, peering up at Alvaar slightly once the blanket was moved from over their heads. A fan of several red tails traipsed out of Alvaar’s line of sight as the carbuncle dragged the blanket down over them. It padded around the two before it quickly curled up at the Bards back, radiating heat like a small furnace.

Alvaar was quiet for a few moments before shaking his head. “Really?”

The Arcanist twitched slightly in his grip. “What do you mean ‘really’?”

“You trained a carbuncle to fetch and be a personal heater?”

“What? Of course not. That’s completely absurd. I designed it to have the capacity for such tasks. You can’t train a summoned carbuncle to do anything.”

“By the Gods... Alphi I know nothing about summons but that’s probably the weirdest statement I’ve ever heard you say, and also you’re amazing,” Alvaar murmured with a weak laugh. “You frikkin nerd we should just move somewhere warmer.”

“This room is freezing Alvaar and unless you intend to leave it there’s nowhere else to go. You’ve been shivering this whole-time and...” the Arcanist trailed off, fingers worrying at the back of Alvaar’s shirt as he mulled over his words. The ruby carbuncle at the Bards back shifted during that silence, settling a bit closer and nuzzling against his neck with a soft chirp.

“Please just let me help you,” Alphinaud whispered so softly Alvaar almost missed it.

He was silent for some time before settling a bit heavier against the carpeted floor. He still ached and his skin still stung but... it was the warmest he’d felt in several days. Heat finally seeming to sink down into that bone deep chill and getting his heart to thaw.

Before he could think better of it, he pressed a faint kiss to snowy strands affectionately and stayed still.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, shutting his eyes and soaking in the heat.

Yes... he couldn’t forget that long away lesson could he? Even the White Wolf needed to lean into others once in a while. Haurchefant may be gone but there were still others he could count on. Others he could call friends and companions...

He blinked with a faint start as tears burned in his eyes and for the first time in a week finally slipped free, burning across his skin as they fell even as he instinctively tried to stop them. Of course... of course his grief would finally crop up now in front of the one perso-

Fingers clutched tighter at him, hugging him a fraction firmer even as the carbuncle at his back nuzzled at him again. “It’s okay,” Alphinaud murmured, voice soft and a faint bit nervous but adding on a bit louder. “I’ve got you.”

Really...? This little pipsqueak was going to repeat his own words back at-

A sharp aching gasp finally dragged into his lungs as he realized he’d been holding his breath, choking on a soft sound of pain. A shudder went through him that was different from the cold, clutching a bit tighter to that small frame as sadness and heartache finally overtook him. Struggling against instinctive pride to not breakdown in front of a person he swore to protect even as the tears continued to fall and quiet pained sobs shook through him.

Hang it all... What was the point of pride if it tore you apart inside? Hadn’t he learned from Rosa that there was healing in coming to terms with grief?

Burying the Arcanist in his arms he let that weakness finally overtake him, tears running free and punctuated with the occasional stiff inhale.

-

When Alvaar finally roused back out from his grief it’s at the behest of a plushly furred and squishy cheek rubbing against his jaw with a soft purr. He doesn’t know quite how long it’s been, only that the shudders had stopped a little while ago and he feels absolutely wretched. There’s the buzz of something approaching a headache centered on his forehead, and his face and chest ache from crying. The upper arm of his sleeve is also soaked from tears and a runny nose he’d kept stubbornly trying to wipe away.

It was, by his estimation, annoying as hell and completely gross. Especially when whatever well he’d pulled those tears from didn’t seem empty in the slightest.

A soft squeaky chirp interrupted his mulling, making him lift a hand to ruffle ruby fur gently. The shift had Alphinaud moving as well, pushing back enough to look up at him.

“Do you feel any better?” he asked, words soft and hesitant.

“No.”

The flat answer seems to surprise him, vibrant blue eyes blinking before glancing away. There’s a tension still taunt in the Arcanist’s muscles even as Alvaar curls back up around him.

“But that’s fine... I don’t have to be better just yet. Everything is as different as it is the same, and I’ll adapt to this too. It’s not the first time I’ve lost something important, and I don’t imagine it will be the last.”

It’s a harrowing thought even as he says it. Harsh wisdom dredged up from unconscious and cynical thoughts. And as much as he wants to think there’s nothing left for him to lose, he knows better than to tempt his fate. These people who have remained stubborn at his side have long managed to worm their way into his heart after all. He wouldn’t have shrugged off blows from Ser Paulecrain while making Ser Grinnaux into an armored pincushion in court if he didn’t care deeply for Alphinaud and Tataru both.

He wouldn’t feel the deep guilt that he does for constantly dragging the members of his Free Company into his fights. For how closely his own friend and retainer brushed with death in that last battle and walked away permanently scarred...

The notion made his stomach twist, so he shifted his thoughts away from it.

For right now, he supposed, the first order was handling the immediacy. And that would be getting some sleep so he wouldn’t have to keep feeling this awful or endure the creeping headache. ... well, changing his shirt before that definitely... actually no… he really needed a bath given he couldn’t quite recall when his last one had been and the notion of it suddenly demanded his entire attention.

A bath. He needed a bath. That was simple enough to handle. Simple and not spilling out acidic thoughts on the poor youth that still held tight to him in concern.

“Come on, get off to bed Alphinaud it’s late. I’ll be alright. I’m going to take a bath and do the same,” he murmured, patting a slim shoulder.

There were a few beats of still silence before the Arcanist shook his head. “I’m not leaving you,” he stated firmly.

On some level Alvaar understood, but at the moment annoyance filtered through him. “What? Do you intend to chaperone me while I bathe?” he snarked flatly.

The deep shade of red Alphinaud’s cheeks flamed to was almost cute and he probably would have laughed if not for still feeling like he’d been hit by a chocobo cart.

“No! I just... Take ruby with you. If you should need anything it’s more than capable of finding me,” he argued sheepishly.

So, suicide watch then. Lovely.

A sharp retort slipped to his tongue but stilled as he felt a faint tremble in the youth’s arms. Noted how pointedly Alphinaud wasn’t meeting his eye...

Another twist of guilt in his stomach almost made him feel sick. Even as miserable as he felt, how could he blame him? If he’d been in his position, he probably would have thought the same.

Heaving a deep breath he acquiesced. ���Fine. But when your carbuncle smells like rose water don’t get mad at me.”

[maliciousdraggy]

[SERIOUS] how did you feel after failed suicide attempt

Hear me out, I know this might sound like a troll post but please let me get my story out and I hope to get feedback from this.

I just got out of the VA hospital for a 5 day stay in the mental health ward. They were really good people and I can not say enough praise about them but I have to lead everyone up to the point on which they were able to help me.

Before the cause of my stay in the hospital I honestly thought that people who self harmed was just people looking for attention or that maybe had some kind of fetish. I do my best not to judge people based on just one insight I have of the person but to be honest I've only knew a few in my life, a total of two to be honest and from knowing them in the aspects that they showed to the world I deemed them "attention whores" and never thought about it much ever since.

Last week I tried to take my life. The reasons honestly doesn't matter it could be ptsd, general life related or just simple lack of sleep.

I had my plan together, wife was at work, only mother-in-law was home and upstairs, I placed my dogs in my room and I was going to go into the back yard with a glock 38 .45 acp. I called 911 and informed them that they would have a body to pick up at this address and where it would be located. The Operator tried the normal stuff such as think of your family and friends and how much you would be hurting them with some other stuff but I was half way listening to be honest because my goal was to bed dead and the cops take my body before my wife and step kids got home.

so I laid down in the backyard next to the pool and fire pit I had put in years back, my left arm laid in dog shit and I just groaned to my self "this isn't what I want to leave behind". I wiped off the dog shit the best I could so at least it wouldn't be obvious to the first person that found my body that I willingly/mistakenly laid it in. I hear rambles on my smart phone not sure what she was saying but I'm guessing she was going through a checklist and then I brought the pistol up to my head.

I took a big deep breath and well you know the outcome I couldn't pull the trigger. I a man that has spent literally years in Iraq being shot and bombed against could not pull the fucking trigger....

The amount I hatred I felt for myself and for life as a whole will never be done in that moment. "You had 1 fucking job and you couldn't do it" "you pile of shit, gutless little faggot that always cried out for a way out but when it came you didn't have the balls". Words honestly can not do justice to the emotions I felt at the time. I already give the 911 operator my info so I knew I only had limited time to finish what I started.

I did not have a back up plan when I started this because I honestly thought I could take the shot. my mind jumped to slitting my wrist in all the Hollywood cliches movies I've seen in the past. I ran into my kitchen. my heart is pounding because I know I'm on a timer, the cops are coming and I need to be dead before they get here but I need to die outside. I grabbed a hand full of knifes that was in the butcher block thingie not sure what its called but it held 8 of them and came out with 3. I started cutting my left wrist with the biggest which I thought would be the sharpest and it just tore the skin. "shit its dull" then I grabbed the next one and rub my thumb across its blade in a right to left motion. It was also dull as well as the third.

So here I am dog shit on 1/2 of my left arm a pistol with 1 round in it in front of me and 3 different kinds of knifes around me while cops are coming...

yea fuck that, I knew I had a sharp or at least what I thought was sharp leatherman type knife I had from a while back in my den. I ran in, grabbed it and went back to the spot I picked to die *not sure why I picked this spot it just seemed like a nice place to die but I digress*. I started slicing at my left wrist, the first time I have ever cut my self on purpose in my life and the knife was not as sharp as I thought it was so I kept slicing and it would dig in then jump to another spot repeatedly but at least it was sharper than knifes in the kitchen. The 911 operator is still on my smart phone and I cant hear a word she is saying but I do remember saying "there we go" when I first start seeing beads then what I thought was an artery of blood sprint forth my arm *14 1/2 inches according to the nice people at the va and just kept repeatedly slicing.

Now during this time I thought I was done for so I was just going for style points and just to be sure. So I kept slicing and wincing at the pain when the knife jumped to another spot over and over again but with all the blood it was really hard to see what was being done and I just kept repeating the motion over and over again until I heard someone from my back right say my name and to drop the weapon. I do remember telling the officer that I'm not done yet. He yells at me again to drop the weapon and at this point I figure that I would listen to him because I'm already dead right? I've got my left arm covered with blood that has been stabbed and torn and sliced over 20 times no way I'm making my way out of this. I throw the knife down a good 5 feet from me and place my hand above my head as I was instructed I remember blood hitting my bald spot as I did this and was like "yea, going to die in peace on a stretcher somewhere and not on grass with dog shit on it". The Officer ask if I have any other weapons, I tell him I have a pistol with 1 round on it in front me. he ask that I stand up and by no means lean towards the pistol *I have nothing but respect for cops I know they are like people and some fuck up and there are good and bad ones but I'm not the type of shitlord that tries to make things hard for them* so I do what I'm told. The officer comes in front of me with a tact vest of some sort mostlikey running interceptor body armor *that shit is a joke* and an ar15 type rifle not sure if it was a sigg but he had his kit fully ready.

The officer reaches for the pistol thats around 2 foot in front of where I was squatting on the deck. he takes the pistol and throws it to the side. He had sunglasses on but if I was him I sure as hell wouldnt of taken an eye off of me. he ask if I had anymore weapon I tell him no. He then tells me to stand up and turn my back towards him which I do. He then ask me to lift up my shirt which I'm guessing is to make sure I didn't have any hidden weapons on me and at this point another officer appears in front of me. I dont know when he got there or how but I didn't notice until it already happened.

The 2nd officer checked my waistband again for something that might be hidden and tells me to keep my arms up. at this point my left arm is covered in blood and its just dripping all over the stone decking. I'm waiting for the whole pass out and never wake up thingie to happen but since you've read this far you know that didn't happen. After both officers checked me they called in emts which got to work on my arm and in my mine I thought "haha faggots ya too late, too slow on the draw /muahahhaha I win".

The EMTs starts cleaning off the blood and for the first time I can honestly see the real damage I did and let me be everything but misunderstood here "I was fucking ferrous". My entire arm that was covered in blood and I thought I was done for was just a shit load of nicks and scratches. 20 or 30 times I carved with the knife it was just jumping from 1 point to another very few places did it have what I would even call a decent cut.

So after the EMTs clear me the 2nd officer is talking with me and me being the big bitch I am had been crying the entire time in hopes that the cutting would put and end of my life/suffering. The 2nd officer tried doing the whole "what about you friends and family" speech bullshit which before then I thought was just a trope so I told him I'm a selfish asshole and I just want this one thing.

we go back and forth not sure for how long, maybe 15 mins *I'm not the best judge of time* before I'm handcuffed and put in back of a squad car then moved to another one because its 1 guys launch break *this is true a fuck and in the moment I'm like yea ok let the guy get some food because everyone hates working on there lunch break* so I'm moved into the other car and we make the way to the largest VA hospital in my area. The reason we are going to the VA is because they have seen me before on thoughts of suicide but this was the first time I've taken action. *if your asking why a guy who had seen the doc about suicide stuff still have a weapon, its simple really. I locked it in a quick release safe that only my wife has/had the code to. it took me 5 mins with a flat head screw driver to open it so keep that in mind if you have a quick release safe because of kids* I get to the hospital which took around an hour and the entire time cop number two was talking to me. IMO he is a good guy, not he's a cop so he's a good guy but he honestly seemed to care about what was going on.

I'm in the va hospital, cop number 2 talks to another cop there and says I'm non combative would he like for me to stay in restrains or not. cop number 3 says nah take'm off. so there I am, pissed at the entire world and myself most of all in a lil room with glass doors with a small Hispanic nurse next to me and the 3rd officer keeping and eye on me in the distance.

[sgnolivia]

(low blow cause he likes to get) blown

in tradition of lit majors across the globe, olvia’s mom has a twisted sense of beauty and names her first daughter beatrice. this goes over exactly as expected and when the second daughter stumbles out of her, so overwhelmed her little lungs don’t even work, she breathes out “olivia” like shakespeare himself will reach up from the depths of hell and jumpstart the reincarnation of his character’s lungs.

i. in tradition of lit majors across the globe, olvia’s mom has a twisted sense of beauty and names her first daughter beatrice. this goes over exactly as expected and when the second daughter stumbles out of her, so overwhelmed her little lungs don’t even work, she breathes out “olivia” like shakespeare himself will reach up from the depths of hell and jumpstart the reincarnation of his character’s lungs.

olivia spends four days in the nicu because she swallowed so much blood at birth.

beatrice, a whole seven years old, isn’t allowed in to see the baby— not that she’s particularly inclined to, it’s the principal of the thing— and spends four days on her father’s mother’s couch watching the news because the tv only gets six channels and none of them are cartoons. also, grammie invested her pension into the stock market at the advisement of a scamming financial advisor so she watches the screen in the same way a born again christian stumbles to the altar for penance. beatrice watches, and learns, and starts mumbling under her breath when the numbers are red, too.

ii. when olivia turns seven and beatrice fourteen, grammie dies. she leaves behind an unpayed mortgage and a stock profile worth exactly four trips to the aquarium.

dad is grammie’s only son. mom hates this and hated grammie so the house is tense for days. olivia stays in her room mostly, playing with beatrice’s old toys and drawing little houses with four smiling people and the dog she’s always wanted.

“what would it’s name be?” beatrice asks tiredly. she doesn't really care, and olivia knows this, but the deep, resonating sound of dad yelling is starting to make the wood floors rattle.  

but olivia has no fucking idea how to name things so she says, “dog!” in a loud voice, choosing to use tone over language to express the admiration and love she would bestow upon the possibility.

“yea, dumbass, but the name,” beatrice rolls her eyes to the ceiling like she’s saying a prayer, “nevermind, you’d pick something dumb.“

there’s silence for a beat while olivia squints. her mother starts shrieking in the background.

"the dog’s name is beatrice."

iii. beatrice the dog is bought by their father when olivia turns nine. she’s tiny and adorable and will only grow to be about twelve pounds. it’s an apology for the way he’s been working late nights but olivia is nine. she doesn't give a shit if her father wasn't home for the birthday dinner or missed out on her chorus concert last week or only remembered it was her birthday because she's been leaving post-it notes on his car for three days. she has a dog.

"she can’t fucking name it beatrice!” beatrice the human is shouting.

“watch it, bee,” mom growls, leaning on the couch like a retired circus tiger.

“why not? she can be beatrice the dog and you can be beatrice the bitch,” olivia sings to break her mom's gaze, and artfully ducks beatrice’s chemistry book.

iv. beatrice the bitch is seventeen when she kills beatrice the dog. “it was an accident”, she hiccups, perched over the toilet and puking up bright pink fluid. olivia cradles beatrice the dog in her arms, straight faced and quiet. there is the urge to have a full meltdown, of course, to scream and cry and wake her dad up from where he sleeps on the couch and demand he bring little beatrice back.

but she doesn’t.

she watches beatrice the bitch— the only beatrice, now— sob and groan and heave over the toilet. the bathroom smells like white wine and vodka.

"it's okay, bee," olivia whispers, and gently lays her dog on the bathroom rug so she can run her hand up and down her sister's back the way she's been doing for her mom for years, "i know you didn't mean it."

beatrice hiccups again, "she's just so tiny and i didn't see her ollie, i didn't—"

"i know."

v. "please don't leave me," olivia whispers so quietly beatrice could pretend not to hear.

and pretend she does.

vi. olivia does well in school. better than her older sister, better than even her mother, who was the first person in her family to go to school and still has the debt to prove it.

"you could go anywhere you want," her guidance counselor is telling her while olivia looks at the magnetic sculpture on his desk, "get a scholarship to any school you want."

she thinks about how the way her sister packed only two bags and left in the middle of the night. how the apartment still smelled like birthday candles.

"i want to go to america," she murmurs.

the guidance counselor smiles the same way creepy mr.choi on the first floor does whenever olivia gets home from school. it doesn’t matter. men have been smiling at her like this her entire life.

olivia graduates at the top of her class, clutching an ivy league scholarship to harvard in her grip like the ticket it absolutely is. she waves it in front of anyone who will listen. she draws up the floor plan to her room and makes amazon wishlists with the things she wants to fill it with. they can't afford any of these things, but everyone in the neighborhood is riding the high of her pride and want to help in any way they can.

three weeks before the plane takes off, a semi runs a red light and hits the passenger side of the taxi she's riding in.

vii. second and third degree road rash, olivia learns through a haze of exhausted moaning and the frantic sound of carts slamming around the room, is just a really mild way of saying fuckfuckfuck her skin is gone!!! she knows her skin is gone, though, so not saying it out loud doesn’t really make it feel better. 

the pain is so severe she can’t cry, or speak, or do much but attempt astral-projecting her soul into a different dimension. it creates an out-of-body dichotomy. on one hand, someone has taken a cheese grater to the very fragile bits of body she has left, and on the other, she’s at the park, beatrice the puppy bringing her stick after stick after stick. olivia throws them all and watches as beatrice tries and fails to find the same one she threw.

someone abruptly pops her femur back under muscle and olivia loses her dog, promptly throws up an impressive amount of bile, and blacks out.

viii. getting crushed by an eighteen-wheeler is the easy part. 

three months in the hospital with an injury list longer than her fucking brag sheet takes her to places she’s positive she’ll never come back from. her parents alternate days because they don’t want to be in the same room as each other and their vegetable daughter. 

“you’re lucky to be alive,” the physical therapist is saying on week fifteen, when olivia relearns how to stand up, “if you were on the passenger side, you’d’ve been a goner.”

it feels like she’s got cooked pasta for bones and beef jerky for muscle. it isn’t conductive for walking the twelve feet to the bathroom. her mother isn’t here to see her cry, so she does. cries, and falls, and tries to punch the nurse who helps her up.

lucky fucking her. 

harvard rescinds the scholarship. elitism waits for no one.

ix. olivia signs her soul to the first private loan company who offers to buy. seongnam will still take her, despite the scarring and memory loss, and olivia, exhausted from living as a guest in her own fucking body, agrees.

[blueyemxn]

Protector of Man

Chapter One: Last Man Standing

Notes: So this is like the fourth try in doing this fan fiction, but I think this might be the start of something I actually finish considering how enjoyable the third game was and I’m excited at the fact that a fourth and fifth could be in the possible future. I’ll be posting this on Ao3 as well under the name Blueyedemoness.

WarxOC (Platonic/Possible Romance in the future)

Warning: Foul language, PTSD, blood, gore, violence, angst, and fluff.

The glare from the sun reflecting off the metal was dull and undignified. There were scratches and uneven groves planted across the surface, painting a clear sign that the weapon had been used many times through its creation. Mari almost felt bad taking it from the hands of its’ owner, but the demon had been dead for a while and she needed something to protect herself. It hadn’t even been more than a couple of days since she emerged from her dreamless sleep and she had seen more demons then she thought she ever would in her lifetime. Before they were a myth her parents talked about to keep her and her sister in line, but now she was forced admit that that wasn’t true anymore.

There is a demon at 10 o’clock. A voice that could only be described as gentle as a light breeze by the most pompous of poets filled the caverns of her mind.

Mari peeked from behind the concrete wall of the partially caved-in building and saw another ugly-faced demon with curled horns stalking around the perimeter. His weapon was identical to hers and many other grunts that stalked the area as his beady eyes scanned the environment.

She stayed crouched with bated breath, not daring to exhale until he was clear of earshot before scrambling to higher ground. ‘Do these guys ever rest?’ she thought to herself as she painstakingly dragged the weapon with her up the surprisingly durable set of stairs. A few wheezes went through her mouth and every few steps she had to pause to catch her breath. Despite the defined muscles attached to her arms, the sword-axe still weighed a ton, more than it should have in her opinion. Though indisputably it was made for demon hands and strength and not for tiny humans who were at the edge of adulthood.

Demons do not require rest and only do so out of luxury.

“Yea, well if they like luxury so much they should go have an orgy or something; I haven’t had an opportunity to go find food since I woke up!” Her stomach growled lightly and Mari took a moment to pause and pat it reassuringly, as if that would do her any good.

Reaching the top of the mostly bare second floor, the young human let go of her weapon and temporarily sat on the frayed carpet next to a rotting wooden desk. She lazily opened some of the drawers in a vain attempt to scrounge anything of use, but ended up with nothing but a few spare papers too faded to be legible and pens that had all but dried out. Useless.

Taking time to rest after going most of the day using her excellent stealth skills to carefully maneuver herself through collapsing buildings, Mari closed her uncovered eye for what seemed like just a few moments. She tried to recall what life used to be before everything went to hell, how life should have been catered to helping her grow up to be an adult. Instead, her mind flashed back to the terrifying moments that haunted her nightmares.

Car alarms blaring, the screams of fellow humans running from the terror, the smell of smoke coming from innumerable amounts of fires caused by the destruction. It suffocated the both of them and running became more difficult as the two had attempted to flee somewhere other than the crowded streets. There was no guaranteed safety from the hideous creatures that were let loose in what seemed to be a premature apocalypse. They tore people apart, ate them and made their bodies nearly unrecognizable before jumping to the next victim with an endless hunger. There was no satiating them and if those dog-like monsters were bad, the humanoid, behemoth demons were even worse. They bellowed out a roar that could destroy eardrums and lifted buses full of people with such ease that Hercules would be put to shame. Instead of hunger, rage was their motivation and the presence of humans seemed to set them off the most. But they were more avoidable then the dog demons at least.

Elsewhere, churches were filled by the dozen, overflowing with so many people the doors seemed to be ready to burst at any moment. Those who couldn’t get in stood outside, hugging the walls and cowering in fear or calling out that the end times were here and humanity was to pay for their sins. Her parents had been part of those people and despite their cries and pleas, Mari turned away and ran in the opposite direction with her sister in tow. She believed the best thing to do was to hide in an obscure place, a place with few humans, few demons and a small space where only they could hide easily and be protected by the towering buildings made of concrete. Olivia had voiced her objections as well, but Mari ignored them just as she had ignored their parents. Olivia was only seven years old and while particularly bright for one her age, she was still only seven years old. Camping at any church or holy place in the city was a death trap and she would be damned to let them hide in such obvious hiding spots. They’d only be waiting to be slaughtered and she refused to die so easily.

They ran for a long time, so long she began to get blisters on her feet. No matter where they turned, demons were there with the few angels that survived the initial collision. Mari had gotten frustrated and, for a split second, thought about going back to the church where their parents were, only to be blocked. Where the road once was, giant thorns erupted from the ground, causing the street to rumble and crack where the helpless humans stood. They had no choice but to go forward now and hope that safety was within reach.

All of a sudden Mari jolted up from her unintentional nap at the sound of something large crashing nearby. Her breath hitched and she had to take a moment to let her panic settle down and her hands to stop trembling. When she came back to her senses, the human slowly rose from behind the desk and peered through one of the broken windows.

Not far off, in one of the few intact parking garages left, a big gaping hole had opened up and smoke rose up from inside. She was reminded of the craters made from the arrival of demons and angels and wondered if these were reinforcements, or something else all together.

“What was that?” asked one of the demons down below in a garbled tongue that she could barely understand, even with Seth’s help.

“More soldiers, probably. Never can have too many under The Destroyer’s command.”

“For what? All the humans are dead now aren’t they? What else could they be here for?”

“Were you even listening? The Earth belongs to Hell now! With this foothold we’ll be able to increase our numbers until we’re ready to storm The White City and squash any angels that are left on this Creator forsaken rock.” They sounded like the typical disgruntled soldiers, but their words were worrying, especially the part talking about all humans being dead. Mari hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped her sister was still alive somewhere.

Carefully, she slid away from the window and back to where her heavy weapon lay on the tiled floor. Despite fear rising in her stomach, Mari decided that the best course of action was to head where the crash was. She didn’t know why and blamed her lack of logical explanation on her instincts that had been growing more refined as time went on.

The demons are moving away, if you’re going towards that crash, it would be best to go now.

Heeding Seth’s advice and gingerly touching the patch covering her right eye, Mari gripped her weapon in stinging hands and descended out into the destroyed streets.

Navigating without getting caught was one thing, but trying to be stealthy and drag a huge sword-axe the whole way was exhausting and stress inducing. It took everything for her not to scream in frustration whenever it got caught on something or it would slip out of her hands and land on her foot. She wouldn’t have had any trouble if she had some sort of scabbard to hold the damn thing, but she had yet to see anything that could help her achieve that. Thankfully, though, she was almost to her destination.

Once she got closer, Mari started to pick up sounds that bounced off the normally silent, concrete buildings. She slowed down and hugged the wall, creeping towards what she perceived to be a library that towered over most of the other buildings. Her other hand gripped her weapon just in case she needed to use it to defend herself. She then cautiously peered over the corner.

Across the square were groups of green skinned zombies shambling about with the occasional large demon. Most were inactive, but there was a group that was running and charging at something struggling in the middle of them. At first she thought it was another demon, but then noticed this person was fully clothed in armor and when the light hit just right she could see the same color of skin a human wore under the red hood covering the face.

Mari was obviously curious, though not just because he was something other than a demon or angel, but also because his sword was massive. It was nearly the size of his own body and it cut demon and zombie alike as if they were made of paper! She wanted nothing else but to get her hands on it and trace every detail, but reserved herself due to the fact the guy was slaughtering the enemies with no problem and could probably do the same to her if provoked. Instead, she stayed where was. 

The stranger was killing everything like it was nothing and a slew of colors would burst out every once in a while to go inside the larger of his two gauntlets. Mari was certainly entertained, so much so that she had completely forgotten that she was utterly starving. She would have been content to watch him work that blade all day, but, alas, all good things must come to an end. Everything in the vicinity had been slaughtered and the stranger put his sword on his back and made his way towards the center of the square.

Mari pulled her head away, not willing to risk exposing herself any longer and gain the stranger’s attention. Unless he had already seen her, he was heading in her direction. 

About to shuffle away to possibly find another building closer to the giant, a loud yelp emerged from her throat when a zombie popped out of nowhere and had nearly swiped at her with its’ gnarly claws. She was knocked off balance and hit her back against the brick wall with barely enough time to dodge another attack. Mari kicked it in the legs, causing it to buckle and took that opportunity to get some distance between them. Unfortunately the moment she started to sprint, another appeared and managed to slash at her cheek. She tried to use her weapon, but realized she had dropped it after getting spooked.

“Fuck,” a curse passed through her lips at the realization that she was cornered by two intellectually deprived zombies and only had a small window to turn the situation around. The two lunged at her at almost the same time and Mari dived as far as she could before rolling and getting on her feet. She only got a few seconds, however, before her back was assaulted by two swipes that tore at the back of her hoodie and suddenly found herself on the ground once again.

Primal instincts took hold; Mari flailed her legs against the creatures that were trying to kill her and was met with some success. Her long legs connected with the stomach of one and sent them tumbling away while the other was only slightly hindered; stumbling somewhat before moving forward again. It slashed wildly, but she managed to back away fast enough to dodge it, only to hit the wall of a building seconds later. The teen cursed at herself at her incompetence and braced for a painful impact as the creature charged forward with a hellish screech of a wild animal.

Feeling something being sprayed onto her face was the last thing Mari expected within the next few moments, along with the sound of flesh being pierced and the screeches of the zombie fading away. Daring to take a peek, Mari found herself staring at the end of of a large blade with a niche at the tip snuggled in between the chest cavity of the zombie. She was so stunned into silence that she couldn’t utter the most terrified of squeals or keep her hat from sliding off her head. It felt like her heart just stopped beating and that her death was to come soon after.

“What’s this? A Human?!” said an irritating and grating voice as the blade slipped out of the body with ease. The dead zombie fell to the floor and towering before her was the stranger she had seen earlier, along with an inky black creature floating near him. The creature floated a bit too closely as the black, mouth less face permeated her vision and squinted its’ six glowing eyes. “How unfortunate, it seems to have died from shock.” Its tone mocked her stunned silence and the gall to do so roused her.

“I’m not dead!” Mari proclaimed, baring her teeth before forcing herself up with shaking legs and using the wall to support herself.

“No, you are alive.” The stranger said slowly and clearly, his voice resembling a growl with each word he spoke. Now that he was in front of her, Mari could tell he was at least a few heads taller than the average human male and seemed to be built like a tank with his sturdy armor and beefy appearance. Most of his face was darkened from the inside of his hood, but she could see the long white hair spilling out from inside and white eyes staring down at her. She would have thought he was an angel if he didn’t lack the wings.

A scowl then appeared at his words; was this another attempt to mock her? “No shit Sherlock, I wouldn’t be breathing if I wasn’t!” She told him before wiping her face with the sleeve of her yellow hoodie before looking up at him defiantly.

His face made no visible change from his stoic expression, though she could have sworn that it did twitch for a split second. “I was lead to believe the Third Kingdom was lost.” He said, looking over to his companion as if he owed him an explanation.

“Of course it is! I’m not sure how this little mouth-breather survived, but just because its’ here doesn’t mean Man is saved!” The floating being, or Inky as Mari had immediately started to call him, seemed adamant on his claims, almost suspiciously so.

“If one survived, there could be others.”

Inky scoffed. “You’re wasting your breath on a fantasy! The Charred Council graced you with an opportunity to ‘prove your innocence’ War! Not looking around for humans that don’t exist! I suggest you head back to Vulgrim and ‘feed’ your curiosity before I have to remind you whose in charge.” To prove his point, Inky extended his arm and a blue ring surrounded the one he called War, pinning him to one knee as he grunted in pain. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough to get Mari’s blood boiling.

“What the hell did you do to him?!”

“Just reminding him who holds the leash, wretch. And if I were you, I’d mind your own business lest that tongue of yours get ripped out!” He gave her a threatening glare from all six eyes before collapsing into a mist and retreating to War’s larger gauntlet.

“Are you okay?? What was that bastard’s problem?!” She asked after he had disappeared, unable to understand what had just happened or why, but knew in her gut that it was wrong.

War ignored her questions, though despite his lack of response, she could see him clench one of his fists, only to relax it a few seconds later. He turned his huge body away and began to leave without so much as a single word. And, perhaps, if she were older, Mari would have been content to leave him alone to march on his mission. But she was a stubborn, fiery and determined seventeen year old who needed to look for her little sister and hanging around a guy who could cleave through anything in his path sounded like the best course of action she could take. So she followed him.

They didn’t go far, only to the center of the square where a platform decorated in runes sat and a tall demon floating above it. The skeletal face was unnerving with the lack of a nose, the exposed teeth in an almost permanent grin and beady, cyan eyes watching their every move. Mari kept behind War to keep from the demon’s sight, but she had a feeling he had seen her long before she had seen him.

Without a word spoken between them, War lifted his gauntlet and a blue stream shot out of decapitated skulls that rushed into the demon’s mouth as if guided by an unknown force. The demon gave a satisfied hum.

“Mmm, excellent~~” There was a small pause before she saw him moving to the side slightly until they were both in view of each other. “And what about her?” He asked, daring to get closer to the human and Mari backed away at War’s side, almost pinning herself against him as she tightened her grip on her weapon. “Surely you are aware how much a price a human could offer--”

“I’m NOT for SALE!” Mari’s defiant voice cut him off through the pale imitation of a snarl and she looked ready to lift her weapon to clock him over the head. Even though it was too heavy to lift off the ground for more than a few seconds and she would more likely hurt herself trying, but her only means of defense was making it seem like she could.

“My, my, a tenacious one aren’t we?” the demon sounded all too eager and not the slightest bit put off by her bark.

“Who knows how to get to the Destroyer?” War asked almost impatiently, moving his body to face the demon once again and conveniently putting himself in front of her once more. Whether he did it on purpose or not, Mari wasn’t sure, but was thankful nonetheless.

Forced to comply, Vulgrim left her alone-- for now. “These ancient gates have a mind of their own, but with this, you may reach an… understanding. Beyond the gate, seek out Samael’s prison.” Out of his clawed hands appeared an item that was curved like a horn and had two heads to make up the mouth. War took it without issue and didn’t look back to the demon as he walked towards the large gate blocking the library. “Once, he was close in power to the Dark Prince himself; some would even say a threat. You will find he’s no friend of the Destroyer, and may even help, for a price. Seek me out when you’ve gathered more souls, I’ll make it worth your while~”.

Giving an eerie laugh and grin, Vulgrim slipped back into his portal and War continued on as if he never existed. For a few seconds Mari stared, petrified that he may come back to quickly drag her away at the last second. But found that, at least for now, the demon’s interest in her was gone. Not willing to risk him popping up the moment War left, however, she went after him, heavy weapon in tow, towards the gate blocking the way.

[hannahindie]

Breathe - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader Series Warnings: Fatal illness, character death, blood, canon violence, language, eventual smut, kidnapping. Word Count: 3,109 Square Filled: Fatal Illness Summary: A year ago, the reader makes a decision regarding her treatment. Present day, she finds herself in over her head, and Sam and Dean are about to find out just what she’s been hiding. A/N: This is the third part of my SPN Angst Bingo Card, hosted by @spnangstbingo. It will be seven parts, and the schedule has already been posted. It will post twice a week (Monday and Friday) until it wraps up.

Beta’d by my beautiful waterbear writing soulmate, @trexrambling: “I love it when Sam gets sassy.” So do I...sassy Sam makes my life.

My twinny, @pinknerdpanda: “I read this in your voice and it made me so happy.” I like to indulge myself and put myself in things, so it always makes me happy when you find it. :)

And my beautiful, sweet angel, @masksandtruths: “Yea, it’ll be fine.” Snerk. Sure.

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

One Year Earlier…

“No.”

My mouth is forming the words before I even realize my brain has thought them.

“I’m sorry?” The doctor looks at me, her brows raised in surprise. I would laugh at how absurd she looks if the situation at hand wasn’t so serious.

“No...I don’t think I want any of those options.” My heart is racing; I’m basically telling this woman I want to die. But that’s not entirely true, is it? I don’t want to die, but now that I’m presented with options, if I’m going to go, I want to go with some dignity.

“Y/N, there’s a chance-”

My laugh interrupts her and she frowns, her lips pressed thin as she stares at me. “I-I am so sorry,” I clear my throat as I try to calm down the hysterical laughter bubbling just below the surface, “but I just find that ridiculous. You already told me that the five year survival rate is eight percent.” I sigh, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I am very tired. I am a deep, soul crushing tired, and honestly I just want...I want to go out the way I want to go. Do you understand? My job is hard and, honestly, I’m lucky I’ve made it as long as I have.”

Her mouth forms a little ‘o’ of surprise, and I realize that’s the closest I’ve ever come to telling someone outside the life the truth about what I do.

“But at the end of the day, I love it. It’s everything I’ve ever known, and I get to help people, and that’s what this world is about, right? So if this is going to happen, if I’m going to die, I want to be able to do so knowing I have done everything I can before I’m gone.”

“I have to strongly advise against that.”

“I know,” I smile as I stand up from the cozy chair that I’m sure is there to be a small comfort when people are receiving bad news, “but it’s what I want. I understand the repercussions.”

She nods, then pulls a sheet from the pad in front of her and holds it out to me. I reach for it, and she holds it back slightly and raises an eyebrow, “I will give you this if you promise that you will at least get checked once a month. I understand that you aren’t going to accept treatment, but I expect you to be in this office once a month for the foreseeable future. In return, I will make sure you are kept comfortable, in a responsible manner. Do we have an agreement?”

“Yea, doc, we’ve got a deal.”

She nods once, then lets the paper slip into my hand. I give her one more smile, then leave the office and head to the closest pharmacy.

The bell above the door dings as I push my way into the building. Pharmacies always have this weird vibe to them; the overhead lights cast a yellowish glow on everything, and most likely one of them is buzzing, flickering slightly as it tries to decide if it’s time to quit. The music playing quietly in the background at this particular one is some cheesy Muzak that would make any hotel elevator jealous. I hand the pharmacist my script then sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs lined up in front of the window. He looks at me, looks at the wrinkled piece of paper, then back at me. I smile, and he gives me a sad look in return. I know what that looks means. Dead girl walking.

“Not too reassuring when your pharmacist looks at you like that, is it?” I look over to see an older man, at least in his eighties, sitting several seats down, one leg crossed over the opposite knee and a cane balanced against his arm rest.

“No, not really.”

“What are you in for?”

I'm usually not much for small talk, but the glint in this man’s eye has me intrigued.

“Lung cancer. You?”

“You name it, I got it, though I do believe you got me beat on that one, sweetheart. Today it's my sugar, but I’m sure tomorrow will find something else. Then again, I like to believe that I didn't fight the Nazis and survive for something like that to take me out.”

“I like the way you think, sir.”

“Sir’s my daddy, you can call me Frank, Frankie if you're feeling cheeky.”

I wink, “I'm always feeling cheeky, Frankie.”

He grins, “Oh, to have met you in my heyday. We woulda had a ball.”

I cock an eyebrow, “Who says we can't now? As long as you don't mind my broken lungs, I think we could have some fun adventures.”

He holds up his hand and wiggles his ring finger, “I don't think my wife would approve. She's cheeky, too.”

We fall silent and I wonder what his wife is like.

“I'm sorry about your lungs, sweetheart.”

I shrug, “In my line of work, it's just a matter of time. It's a little...less violent than I assumed it would be, so that's nice.”

Frankie frowns, and again I realize I've let something slip. “What kinda job do you do?”

“I hunt monsters.”

“I understand that. Someone's gotta do it, huh?”

I know we are talking about two different kinds of monsters, but the sentiment is still there.

“Mr. Duvall?”

He stands slowly, then leans on his cane for a moment to balance himself. “That's me,” he says as he gives me one last look. “You take care of yourself.”

“You too.” He shuffles to the counter and gets his medicine, then disappears around the corner. The pharmacy falls silent again, except for the occasional pop of that one, slowly dying light.

Now…

Simple hunt my dying ass.

Sam should have been right. All his research pointed to the ghost of the husband being the culprit, stuck in a loop in an attempt to save his children.

God, I wish that was true.

Instead, it’s the entire family, including the murderous bitch that killed the rest of them. She is not having our interruption, and I suddenly find myself trapped in an upstairs room, my only defense the iron poker I had grabbed as I ran past the fireplace and up the stairs.

I look around for another way out, but there's no use. This room opens into a nursery, but there's no doors in that room and all of the windows are nailed shut. I'm gasping for air; the run from one side of the house to the other then up the stairs was too much. I cough into my hand and can tell before I even look that there's more blood.

Dammit.

I hear a thud from downstairs and a muffled sonuvabitch, then the loud bang of a shotgun going off.

“Come on, this is ridiculous!” I wiggle the doorknob, knowing it's pointless. On a good day, I might be able to kick it open, but as it is, I'm having trouble standing. Kicking doesn't really seem like an option right now. Suddenly, the air is frigid, and I can see pathetic little breath clouds trying to form in front of me. I turn slowly to see the wife slowly appear, flickering in and out of existence like some kind of video cassette from the eighties.

“You are a raging bitch, you know that? Sam is going to find your bones and he's going to burn your ass. You won't be hurting anyone else.”

It's then I realize that there's one way to get that door open. It's not a good plan, but I have to try something. “Come on, get me! I'm not moving!” I hold my arms out and drop my poker. “Look! All yours! C’mon, bitch!” Suddenly, she throws her arm out towards me and I'm airborne. I close my eyes and brace for the impact, but nothing could have prepared me for how much it was going to hurt. I hit the door and it yields with a sickening crack. For a second, I'm honestly not sure if it is the door or my spine that's making the sound, but there's not much time to think about it as I finish my descent and slam into the floor. It feels like my entire body is curled around something the wrong way, and I lay there and try to force the air in and out.

It feels like I'm drowning on land, like the air I'm trying to desperately suck in is going to be the very thing that kills me. “Dean…” I can barely speak, but I manage to roll over to my hands and knees. “Holy shit….bad...idea…” Good news, the cracking sound is the door, not my spine. The bad news, there's blood dripping from my mouth and I know I didn't get hit in the face. I spit and grimace at the amount of red on the floor. Not good.

“Dean!” A little louder this time, and I hear footsteps taking the stairs two at a time. I manage to get to my feet in time to see Mama Murder appear, less flicker and more violent than before. Great.

“Duck!”

I turn to see Dean pointing a shotgun at me and drop to my knees with a groan; it's a shame, considering I'd just managed to stand up. While he's preoccupied, I swipe my palm swiftly across my mouth and wipe away the evidence. No need for him to see that. The blast makes my ears ring, but the ghost is gone for the moment, so I slump against the wall and let my chin hit my chest.

“Thanks,” I force out, biting back the scream of pain that I want to let loose. I can feel the bruise forming on my back and it feels like my lungs are on fire. Breathing is like swallowing glass shards, and I’m worried that I may have broken a rib, which just adds insult to injury, honestly.

“What the hell happened?” he asks as he kneels next to me, taking a moment to look at the now destroyed door.

I give him a weak shrug and look up at him, my attempt at the usual smartass smirk failing as blood drips from my lip. “Well, I had to get the door open somehow.”

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are on my mouth, and now would be the time to tell him that I am not, in fact, okay, but instead I spit, then wipe my hand across my lips again, “I'm fine. She got me pretty good, I must have bitten my lip when I hit the door. No big. Help a girl up, would ya?”

He stands, offering his hand, and I grab it. It’s warm in mine, rough and gentle at the same time, and for a second my mind flashes back to another time with those hands...which is not helpful now. I gather myself as well as I can and stand with a groan. “I am getting too old for this shit.”

“You and me both.” He stares at me, his eyes traveling from my face down to my toes and back up, narrowing as he realizes how carefully I'm holding myself. “Seriously, are you okay?”

I straighten up, ignoring the way my entire body is protesting the movement, and let go of Dean’s hand. “I’m fine. Let’s just gank this bitch and get out of here. Where’s Sam?”

“I don’t know. I heard him yell something about burning bones, I guess he figured out where she is. I haven’t seen him.”

“Well, let’s go downstairs, there’s nothing up here-”

I’m cut off by what feels like a hand around my throat and then suddenly I’m airborne again. Only this time, there’s no door to slow my fall, or a wall to crash into. I hit the floor, and before I can scramble to catch myself gravity betrays me and I literally bounce down the stairs. I always thought it looked ridiculous when people on television fell down the stairs, and I have a few seconds to contemplate how stupid I must look until the wall at the bottom abruptly stops me. For the second time in five minutes, the air is knocked out of me. This time, my vision starts to go black around the edges and spots start dancing in front of me. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on getting my lungs to cooperate. In. Out. In. Out. Dean shouts and suddenly his shotgun slides down the stairs and lands at my feet. I look up to see him held against the wall, and I gauge the distance between us.

It’s too far.

The shotgun’s range with normal ammunition wouldn’t be enough, but this is rock salt. I’ll have to get closer, and it suddenly occurs to me that if I don’t move the lie I have been telling could get Dean killed. I grab the gun and crawl to the steps and begin dragging myself up, the shotgun in one hand while the other hand grips the worn wood. He’s looking at me, his eyes rolling as he tries to catch his breath, and I pump the shotgun one-handed, another television trope I wasn’t sure actually ever happened. I manage to climb half of the stairs and stand up shakily, leaning back against the banister as I aim the shotgun.

“Let him go, you bitch,” I snarl, then shoot. She disappears with a high pitched screech, and I collapse on the steps and let the gun fall from my hand. When I look up, Dean’s on his knees, his chest heaving as he stares at me. “When I said to go downstairs, that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

Dean shakes his head and laughs, “I was gonna say, that was a dramatic exit.”

“Well, I have to keep it interesting.” A crash comes from above us, and we both look up.

“Did you know that this place has an attic?”

I shake my head, “No, but I guess I do now.”

Sam shouts, and before Dean can run to the source of the sound, we hear a muffled found you and then feet hurrying across the floor above.

Sam pops out of one of the rooms, “We need to go.”

“Why? What did you do?” Dean asks as he gives me his hand again and I stand up gingerly. At least this time Dean isn’t going question it; I did just get thrown down the stairs.

“The better question is where the hell did you even come from?” I grimace as we start down the stairs and Dean’s brows furrow as he tightens his grip around my waist.

Sam grabs the shotgun and takes off for the front door, “Let’s talk about this outside. Actually, better yet, let’s talk about it in the car, as we’re leaving.”

We stumble outside and I turn back just in time to see the second story burst into flames. “Someone’s got some explainin’ to do.” I look back at Sam and he shrugs, and the puppy dog look on his face is nearly too much to deal with. “Was that absolutely necessary?”

Sam tosses Dean his keys, “Well, from the sounds of how hard she was kicking your asses, yes, it was necessary.”

Dean rolls his eyes and lets his arm slip from where it was resting around my waist. I’m sad, both because it was comfortable and because I can feel my body start to give up as my adrenaline begins to wear off.

“She wasn’t kicking our asses, we had it handled.”

“Right,” Sam scoffs, “if you consider Y/N getting thrown down the stairs and you getting choked out ‘having it handled’.” He air quotes that list bit, throwing a bitch face to beat all bitch faces at Dean.

“How would you even know? You didn’t see what was going on. And how did you even get up there anyway?”

“Guys…” Everything is getting blurry, and I can’t catch my breath. I reach out for Dean but my fingertips barely brush his arm; my depth perception is pretty much gone.

“Well, if you’d even tried to look around, you would have seen there was a back staircase, and a hidden entrance in one of the closets.” Sam crosses his arms and, even with blurry vision, I can tell that he’s gloating. They're picking a fine time to act like normal brothers.

“Dean.” It’s all I can get out before wracking coughs take over. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't speak. I can taste it, the bitter metallic taste of my body working against me, tearing me apart from the inside out. I'm choking on blood, and the thought of dying throws me into a panic. I'm not ready; I just found the thing worth fighting for, even if I'm in denial about it. I have family again, a life, and I regret the decision I made to give it all up.

“Y/N!”

I fall to my knees, and I feel someone next to me, a familiar warmth, and I fold myself into it. Dean's looking down at me, his eyes full of fear, and it's the only thing I can focus on.

“C’mon, hang in there. Sammy, help me get her in the car.”

“Shouldn't we call an ambulance-”

My gasp for air and another coughing fit interrupts him, and he looks at me in horror when he sees how much blood is on my face. I may not be able to see well, but I can tell. This is bad.

“We don't have time to wait. Come on.” Dean lifts me up and Sam rushes to open the back door. He carefully slides me onto the bench seat, and before he can move I find a little strength to grab his arm.

“Please...don't…” It's all I can say. It's Dean, though, and he understands. He's understood me since we were ten years old.

“Okay, I'm here, I gotcha.” He crawls in next to me and holds me across his lap, my head against his shoulder. Each gargling breath I take has him holding me tighter, and my heart aches. I shouldn't have done this to him. He holds the keys out to Sam, “Drive, fast.”

The last thing I feel as my eyes slip shut is Dean’s lips as he brushes them against my cheek. “Everything will be fine,” he whispers.

Everything will be fine.

Read Part 4 HERE.

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? My Masterlist is here!

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[phantomwarrior12]

This Isn’t What I Wanted

Warnings: Canon-style swearing, PTSD, mild depression, and general angst

Word Count: 1,611

Summary: Isaac Gates is soldier of fortune, a man whose morals have become so warped by war and time that he only fights for money. What happens to a man when his brother betrays him?

Prompt: Want by Set It Off

A/N: Hey folks,

So, this fanfic is the predecessor of three others that I posted for RVB angst war and fluff week, so, they should all make sense now (see Red Vs Blue Masterlist to read sequels)!

I would also like to thank @epsiloneridani07  and @frequentlydistressed for letting me reference some of their headcannons and their OC.

As always, prompts are open, feel free to leave a comment/like and let me know what you think! If you have a prompt you think would work well in this series, send me an ask! :)

Enjoy!

Saudade Masterlist

Part 2

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

Before the damage is done. This isn't what I really want.

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

"I never wanted this. I never wanted to lose them. Si--Mason. Sam."

Goddammit, Sam. Why'd you do it? Why did you side with them? Why'd you let them kill me?

No, you're not dead. You're still breathing, you don't know why or how, but you're still alive.

Isaac strained to lift his head, every muscle in his body screamed for him to remain motionless. He'd fallen for what felt like an eternity, the chasm boundless, mist swallowing him up before his back hit sharp rock.

He'd thought he'd snapped his neck, bashed the base of his skull on the stone beneath him. He waited, his breath fogging over the T-formation of his visor. One beat. Two. An agonizing third before he mustered the strength to roll onto his side.

His body protested, tendons shifting, bones cracking, grinding pitifully against cartilage. He pushed himself to a seated position, prying the helmet from his head, discarding it the moment it cleared his forehead.

"Why am I not dead?" His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, raspy from the scream he'd released during his descent. His trembling fingers hovered over the panel on his wrist, hand shaking too violently to properly activate the band. His fingers curled into a fist, squeezing the muscles into a calm submission before he attempted to activate the screen.

"Armor lock is intact, thank you, sketchy black market dealer." he murmured, checking the other systems in his armor. The explosions in the distance tore his attention from his work, "What now?!"

He was on his feet, snatching his helmet up from the bedrock and sliding it over his head. He stumbled over uneven ground towards the base of the chasm he'd fallen into, spurring his aching frame into a slow climb. By the time he'd reached the upper levels, he could see the carnage in the distance.

Bodies everywhere, mercenary and New Republic soldiers alike lay scattered across the battlefield.

Dead. All dead. Only survivor, all alone. No. No, not alone--Sam's alive, Sam's okay. Find--

Isaac snapped his head to the left, the instinct fading just as quickly as it appeared. He cast a wary glance skyward, to the Communication Temple, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as Hargrove's ship stared down the structure. His attention was drawn back to the battlefield, the survivors, the simulation troopers, the Freelancers, the traitor--they'd all be gone in a matter of hours.

You never should have betrayed me, Locus. Now, you pay the price.

His eyes caught sight of an abandoned Ghost to his right, just beyond the mounds of fallen soldiers. He could hear the explosions in the distance as he scrambled from his cover, stumbling over craters and corpses until he fell against the cold metal of the machine.

Limbs struggled to support him as he heaved himself onto the seat. The adrenaline had begun to wear off, jarred muscles began to tremble, the impact of the fall weighing heavily on his chest, the searing pain in his ribs reminding him of the damage done.

He hugged a forearm to his chest, bracing the aching bones in the only realistic means possible.

A Ghost required two hands to drive, but he'd improvised before, during the war. He could almost see the memory play out in front of him, Sam assassinating the Elite in charge of guarding the vehicles, the two clamoring onto vehicles to escape the bomb they'd planted in the heart of the Covenant's base.

They made it, the two of them had escaped the explosion, certain death, but now--now he'd survive. Alone. He'd walk away and Sam--Sam would pay for his betrayal, he would pay the ultimate price.

They were brothers after all, they'd known one another for a few years before they'd enlisted, when they were nothing more than kids trapped on a backwater planet, orphans left to the mercy of the universe.

At one point, he had Liz, in their broken excuse for a home, he'd always had his twin sister. Until he didn't, until he lost her to one abusive parent on a planet light years away, until he was dragged from her after the divorce, until he was certain he'd never see her again.

Then he met Sam and he was positive that he would always have Sam, and now, he'd lost his brother. Now he's alone. Again. And he has no idea what he's going to do now.

No fucking idea.

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

It's months later when he's downing another beer that he notices the headlines.

Reds and Blues Strike Again

He scoffs, turning his attention back to the beer and data pad in front of him. He'd come so close, so damn close to tracking Sam down. They'd all survived Chorus, Hargrove had failed. Shocker.

"If you want something done right," he murmured, scowling at the file in front of him, reaching absently for the bottle. His fingers curled around the cold glass, sliding the beverage towards him, inches from his lips before spasming tendons released, sending the bottle crashing to the floor, contents spilling over Isaac.

"Shit." He slammed his trembling fist onto the table, disgust etched into his features as he pushed away from shattered glass and stood, knocking his chair to the floor with a loud thud.

The thunderous collision with the wooden floor scared him more than it should, a distant echo of a war once fought.

He was poised for a retreat, as if the explosion hadn't shredded everything in its path, as if he were still a soldier in the midst of a bloody conflict.

He waited. One moment. A second. A terrifying third before his eyes fell to the wooden chair beside him.

"War's over." He reminded himself, touching his temple gingerly, memories misting away with a shake of his head until it's quiet, until there's nothing but the monologue of the television filling the empty room.

Isaac gathered himself, pushing brown locks  back off of his forehead, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. He snatched the data pad from the table, ignoring the shattered glass and pooling beer on the floor as he made his way to the worn couch, collapsing into the safe haven and turning his attention back to the data pad.

His hands trembled slightly, nerves on edge as the surge of adrenaline dwindled, as his heart gradually slowed and his breathing returned to some semblance of normal. He laid a hand over a tight muscle in his ribs, gently massaging the tissue into a state of release.

He cursed the nearly healed rib, the soreness it caused anytime his heart rate picked up, a relentless knot in his side until he forced it into submission.

His fingers absently dug into marred tissue, gaze locked on the streaming data before him, skimming for indications of his former partner. It wasn't like Sam to lay low, Isaac had discovered that tendency after knowing him for less than 2 minutes.

His gaze was torn away from data pad, catching the phrase "Chorus" from the news on the far wall. He hauled himself to a seated position, snatching the remote from the worn table in front of him, cranking the volume.

Reports continue to pour in regarding the stalemate between the UNSC and Chorus. The planet has been ravaged by a civil war spanning over three decades, until it was brought to an abrupt conclusion a little less than a year ago. Since the war's conclusion, Chorus has been the center of interplanetary conflict, stubbornly defying the wishes of the UNSC to rejoin Earth and her colonies, opting, instead, to remain independent.

Peace talks have come to a halt after a series of terrorist attacks by a group of simulation troopers, the Reds and Blues of Project Freelancer. The UNSC suspects Chorus employed these soldiers to protect the planet.

Current President, Vanessa Kimball, has denied all allegations of association with the Reds and Blues, claiming, "Chorus has not contributed to these attacks in any way, and will offer full cooperation until these terrorists are apprehended. At which point, I hope the peace talks can continue."

Back to you--

Felix paused the screen, staring quietly at the frozen frame of Kimball, the throbbing in his ribs long forgotten. He settled against the tattered leather of the sofa, brown eyes studying the President of Chorus. The war, surprisingly, had been a simpler time. He'd had Sam, hell, he'd even had Vanessa, a woman of incredible strength.

The corner of his mouth turned upward in a gentle smile, recalling their attempts at a relationship. The late night talks--most of which related to strategizing, although, he had managed to redirect her attention to other topics. The smile broadened at the rarely reciprocated flirtations. Granted, he'd been playing the role of trusted mercenary, but--something about what they had hadn't been a deception. Sure, he'd had to lie to her, but, there were times he told the truth, specifically about how he felt.

She never responded, word of those Red and Blue morons had reached her. Then--then everything went downhill from there.

Isaac heaved a frustrated sigh, snatching the remote up and shutting off the television. He tossed the data pad onto the table, there would be time enough to find Sam tomorrow.

He'd been off the radar for months, which made it borderline impossible to find him. Isaac knew him, they'd spent years together, both during the war and later as partners.

Sam would slip up. He always did, sooner than later. ---------------- 

Part 2

[foranonwritings]

His love is very necessary to me

“Sometimes I get very tired of Shannon, sometimes I think I I’ll grab something heavy and knock him so hard that his head will be ringing as the plates of the drum set. Sometimes he’s too caring. He is so caring that I sometimes think that I’m dying or physically limited. But when I get tired, I fall on the couch and realize that Shannon is far, he toured with Antoine or somewhere else out there, I feel bad, I miss his absolute care, I want to be a younger brother, who he takes care of. I do not care that I’m forty, I like to be his younger brother, his love is very necessary to me.” — Jared Leto about his older brother Shannon. 

@jletolove4eva​  

Tense silence filled the stretching hallway.  Heavy doors with card key locks ran its length. Single barriers between an intrusive reality and whatever alternate existence lay behind them. Jared had lived hotel life long enough to imagine what was being lived, unseen.  The thick black on white carpet ensured his footsteps did not disturb the inhabitants of the rooms.

Mentally ticking off the numbers until the desired door was reached. He steeled himself in preparation for whatever might lay beyond. In one motion he slid the card through the slot and turned the smooth handle.

At first glance the suite was a whirlwind mess.  Articles of clothing of all kinds were strewn about in their hasty removal.  Dozens of beer and liquor bottles covered dressers and table surfaces.  But the arrangement of multicolored pills, mingling with a large mound of white powder in the center of the marble coffee table consumed Jared's attention the most; sending him adrift years of memories of heartache, fear and helplessness he'd just as soon forget.

Then movement brought him back to sharp focus as two blonde girls stood and whirled towards the intruder.  Behind them, a third form, draped over a couch, barely showed signs of life.  Both girls were topless, drunk and wide eyed.  Jared's keen eye followed the shorter girl's trailing arm to its end. The delicate fingers trying not to look as if they were reaching for the wallet that peeked over the denim pocket of the third occupant.

"Get. Out." The order was sharp and cold. It startled both the girls, more than he'd meant to, but Jared couldn't care through his mounting disgust. They hesitated for just a moment, as if they thought to size him up.  The presumption made him see red. "Now!." He hissed.  There was no mistaking his intent then, and both girls clumsily gathered what few clothes were in reach before hurrying out the door.  A quiet click the only ghost of their presence.  

Breathing deeply Jared deliberately slid an arm over the table top, displacing trash and drugs in a costly dust cloud, clearing a place to sit. He propped both elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face with his hands to regain control.  And with a final sigh he decided to pull out a half emptied bottle of water from his coat pocket.  A deft twist of his hand removed the  plastic cap, and unceremoniously dumped the remainder over the prone form of his older brother. The reaction was instantaneous.

Shannon bolted up sputtering and swiping indignantly at his face.  "Shannon." Jared simply stated.  "What the hell!" The older brother demanded, unable to entirely hide the disoriented wonder as he fully awoke.  Jared cocked an eyebrow as if in consideration.  "Welcome back.  What the fuck are you doing?" There was a low growl in the question.

"I could ask you the same." Shannon feigned leisure, leaning back and putting a booted foot next to his brother on the table. Jared wanted to scream and let loose a tirade of outrage at this supposed normalcy. Instead he breathed again and forced himself to see through his brother's stubborn defenses.  "Thought I'd come see how the tour was going." It was calculated, deliberately non judgemental.  Shannon rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder as if to unkink his neck. It was chess, and the loser would be the first to break the illusion of control. "Had off tonight.  What's your problem Jared, don't be coy." Shannon baited,then stared purposely at the ceiling, hands behind his head.

"So you hole up with some hookers to coke out? Saved your wallet by the way." Jared gripped his knees, the motion familiar and grounding. "Not that it's any of your business." Shannon emphasized, "thanks for my wallet, though." His gaze returning level, he still refused to meet Jared's eyes, he knew if he did, the game was over.

"Are you kidding!?" Jared roared, suddenly standing.  Shannon jumped in his seat on the couch.  The game was definitely over. "Not my business? Who drags your ass back from the brink when you fall into this shit? You're not just killing everything you've worked your ass off for brother, you're taking MY dream with you!" Shannon flinched as his facade crumbled.  

The silence settled slowly over them again.  Both brothers feeling very old, and very raw. Knowing exactly what the other was thinking.  The same old back and forth. The how could yous, and I'm sorrys, stale as the cemetery of cigarette butts in a beer bottle.

"I-I know you did this," Jared gestured bigger than the room around them. "because you wanted something of your own. But; you have to know, I will never lose you to this." Jared purposely didn't  acknowledge the substances on the floor. "Not while I'm breathing Shannon. This life can't be ok." Jared wasn't sure when he'd sat back down, but he attempted to meet the darker eyes across from him. And when he did, they were just as familiar as ever, with the same emotions running through them, the love, the fear, the wild passion. Everything he loved and admired in his big brother, that also made him fear for him.

"It's not like that. I just wanted a break.  To be out of myself for a night and this, here, I didn't want to drag you in." Jared barked a laugh and looked around the room again. "Unless you've got Keith Richards stashed in a closet this is more than one night." Shannon's eyes rolled in agreement. "Yea, guess it did go a little Hunter S. Thompson." They both smiled devilishly.  "I can't come home yet Jared. I've gotta finish this with Antoine." Then a thought stopped him. "Mom doesn't know, does she?" Jared's face grew a little harder. "No. She thinks you lost your phone. Again." Shannon nodded, clearly grateful. "But this," Jared gestured to the mess on the floor. "stops. Tonight."  It was Shannon's turn to lean forward. Elbows on knees, hands covering his face.   "You're right." He acquiesced after a few moments.  

Jared pivoted and sunk into the couch next to his brother. "Imagine letting you loose on Amsterdam. Jesus!" Jared scoffed.  Shannon laughed and plopped back. "Shut up! They were hanging around the back door of the last club. You know I never pay." Shannon cocked an eyebrow.  Jared immediately furrowed his own in defense. "I don't PAY!" Shannon laughed harder.  "I know, you're too scared of girls." "I am NOT scared! I prefer to have a connection with someone that I sleep with." Jared grimmaced as his retort hung in the air.  He waited, now refusing to meet Shannon's gaze. It did not keep his older brother from bursting into a fit of giggles. They continued trading jabs and digs, falling into thier own personal rapport as the hours rolled by.

And finally, when the night was its darkest and most quiet, Shannon brought up the detail they'd both been avoiding.

"You didn't come here to see how the shows were going." He stated, playing with a plate full of chips they'd long since stopped eating. "You would kill it playing with a choir of gregorian chanting nuns." Jared replied absently twirling the keycard between his thumb and forefinger. "And that's a mental image." Shannon snorted.

"How many more do you have?" "You know how many." Shannon smiled. "And my kit at your place will be my first stop as soon as I get back." He didn’t respond, just searched the face he knew so well. “I’ll be there Jared. One thousand percent. I’m coming back.” Jared nodded. He stood and headed out the door. No traded goodbyes, or brotherly hugs needed.

Alone, awake and sober Shannon began the task of sorting, cleaning and returning his room to general order.  All to keep his mind from wandering to topics too vast for a post bender 4 am. He deliberately did not hear the quiet, tempting whispers as the pills found their way into the toilet. Did not reflect on two little boys whose whole world was the joy and peace they found making music as he sorted his practice pads in their cases. And definitely did not think about two men, so in sync that being on opposite sides of the world would not keep them from quelling each other's loneliness or tendency to teeter on the edge of disaster. And as Shannon finally sat back down at the kitchen counter, steaming coffee not entirely enough to face the oncoming day. he noticed 1 text message waiting on his phone.  A single image, unmistakably his brother's hand, holding his wallet.  Shannon couldn't help but reach for his back pocket, only to find it empty. "Son of a bitch." He smiled.

[dream-inwriting]

Fight Club

Prompt: Very angry at Peter for ruining your friendship with him as well as other out of the blue, you resort to violence with other people. This leads to being in a fight club, pounding on different people with bets placed to see who will be knocked out first. Peter doesn’t really recognize the bruises till they show up on your face. 

WARNING: THIS IS VERY LONG AND THERE IS VIOLENCE 

A/N: I know my friends, I know. This is not “Changed Part 2″, reason being is I want part 2 to be as good as, or even better than, the first part. With that said, I’m having trouble writing the second part of changed. I will be posting again this week for a THANKSGIVING SPECIAL....so PLEASE tell ME what YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ. I will post “Changed Part 2″ after that. ALSO, I was thinking about doing a ‘countdown to christmas’ or ‘twelve days of christmas’ with the Avengers. COMMENT PLEASE COMMENT if you would like to READ something like that. THANK YOU SOOOOOOO MUCH!!!!

----------

"This is so stupid!" I shout throwing my makeup into the sink. For the past 30 minutes I've been trying my best to cover up the bruise on my cheek, the black eye, and the busted lip. The rest of my body is a no brainer with clothes but that isn't my problem. I don't want the school to start talking, I'm not worried about the teachers I'm worried about the students. The teachers don't care. Deciding I look fine and down with the situation I grab my backpack and head to school.

"Hey, (y/n)!" Ned smiles and waves. I wave back. Ned one of Peters new BFF's. I used to be a BFF but Peter cut me out of his life about 4 months ago for some reason. We've been friends since birth living across the hall from each other, it's kinda hard to forget when you always have a reminder.

"Thank you Aunt May!" Peter yells throughout the apartment.

"Yes! Thank you!" I cough out stuffing my face with her cookies, "I forgot what these tasted like."

"Clearly, Cookie Monster." Peter jokes. 

"Hardy Har. Anyway, for AP psych."

"Right, right!" Peter and I pull out the heavy Psychology books given to us third period. As partners we are suppose to interview each other to find out something new about each other's personality which is nearly impossible because Peter and I know all about each other, yet he insisted on coming over just in case.

"Okay, I'll go first since we got difference sheets." Peter declares, "Biggest Mistake?"

"Meetin Peter Parker."

"Hardy Har."

"Kidding. Um.......I don't know, uh, not circling A when it was A?"

"How are we friends?" Peter jokes again making me hit him in the arm.

"My turn. Best place to spend time in New York?"

"The rooftop." 

Suddenly intrigued, "Why?"

"Maybe it's a chance of seeing the Stars? Or the lights in Times Square?" 

I nod understandingly, to be honest, I didn't know that about Peter, "Biggest Weakness?"

"Emotions? They ruin me."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah. Imagine if you had a puppy and then suddenly it's gone but you've developed an emotional connection with it, I wouldn't stop looking for it and finding out why it disappeared. Hobbies? Wait! I know this one! Designing, creating things with science!"

"Close."

"Oh, whatever Parker."

"Alright, alright. Goals?"

"To be happy". 

That night was one of the few left of our friendship since it was abruptly cut off by Peter. To put it straight, he was my puppy. I love Peter and I can't stop thinking about him even though it's been a long time, "Hey, Ned."

"Have you seen Peter around?"

I roll my eyes, "Why do you ask me that?"

"Because I hope you guys will talk again! I don't like splitting my time with you guys."

I turn toward Ned, "Then don't, Peter's been the better friend anyway.”

"Woah, what happened to your face?" It's real concern, it's been a awhile since I've seen anything like it, it's alien. I can't have it. Whatever I did to hurt Peter to make him push away that far, I don't deserve it. 

I scoff, "No one cares, Ned. Don't pretend like you do." With that I walk down the hall to my next period unfortunately getting of few stares and whispers but nothing to startle the board. Peter by his usual locker takes a look at me, but double takes, concern over his face too, and fear. Let's just get through the day I tell myself.

The final bell rings and I slowly make my way to my locker but Peter is standing there. What the hell? He's pissed. I turn around."(Y/n)!" Peter races up to me stopping in front of me.

"What Peter?" Saying his name out loud after all this time feels like foreign language.

"What happened to you?" Seriousness crawls through his features. The brown eyes darker, the curls straighter, the face more focused. It's sort of scary but I keep my ground. I've fought monsters before and won, this should be easy.

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're my friend."

I almost laugh at that as if it were a joke, "Now, I'm your friend? What? I get a few punches in, a few bruises and you suddenly decided to talk to me? Wow, if it were that easy, I do it a while ago."

"Ned says you've had these before-"

"Yea, and?"

Peter huffs, "if someone's hurting you-"

"You'll what? Become my friend? Pass. You'll protect me? Congrats, you failed." I attempt to move around Peter but he blocks my way again. Peter, who is somewhat taller than me, stands there waiting for what I say next. 

"How about you go protect your new friends? Liz, Ned, all of them. I don't deserve it."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Peter's voice cracks, tears on the edge of his eyes.

"That's what's happening right? I mean the pushing me out of your life. Treating me like I don't exist? Whatever I did I'm sorry okay? But whatever is happening now, isn't your problem. My fault for our relationship, my mess."

"You think this is your fault?"

"Yeah. You want to see it from my perspective?" Tears roll down my cheeks, "One day you wake up for the soul excitement that you will get to see your friends at school smiling, having a good time. Then you notice they aren't talking to you. You think okay, they need time maybe I can figure out what I did. Every possible scenario runs through your mind. One day you wake up in the dust, friends have moved on, personality changed. Hell, I was left behind. So yeah, my fault." I start to walk away but Peter grabs my arm only to pull it back. "Go protect your friends Peter, they deserve it, not me."

Tears don't stop rolling down my cheeks when I get to my apartment. And I didn't realize it was the same for Peter.

----------

Throwing a bag over my shoulder I look out into the streets, calm yet busy which makes no sense. I take a deep breath, Peter said that this is his favorite place to be and now it's mine, it was a little something I could hold on too. A thump comes from behind me onto the gravel roof, I turn around to see Spider-Man.I guess I’m so drained that he doesn’t even scare me. I get up and extend my hand, "(y/n). Spider-Man I'm guessing."

"Obviously." He chuckles.

"Can't say that I'm not excited to see you." I smirk biting my cheek to stop from smiling.

"Same, uh, to you."

"Weird. Well, what did you come here for?"

"We have a mutual friend, and he's worried about you." Spider-Man simply states."This mutual Friend happen to be Peter Parker?"

"Maybe." He shrugs, "He said you got beat up pretty bad-"

"Huh," I shake my head, "shoulda seen the other guy."

"Someone attacked you?" He leads.

"Wouldn't matter if they did, it's done and over with. Look, tell Peter that if he wants to know what happened tell me why he pushed me away, why he hates me-"

"He doesn't hate you."

"And you would know so much about that?"

"I-I do in fact." At this point Spider-Man and I are nose to nose, granted his a bit taller, "I have places to be. Tell Peter to tell me or to not at all."

3 am in the morning I lean against the side of the elevator avoiding the camera. The elevator bings at my floor and I slowly, while swaying and zigzagging, get to my door to distracted to see Peter watching for his apartment. I bring out my keys but drop them on the floor, finally thinking the gold one was the key I jam it into the lock but it doesn't open.

"Are you drunk?" Peter asks. I close my eyes and lay my head against the door, "No."

"Are you on drugs?" Peter is right behind me watching as I fumble with my keys, "Sometimes I wish."

Peter grabs the keys from my hand and unlocks the door, "Thanks." 

He comes into my apartment and closes the door, "Where were you?"

"What does it matter, Peter?" I say ripping my hoodie off my body throwing it on the couch, I forgot about the bruises.

"What happened?" Peter’s eyes fill with fear and worry, tears trying to escape his eyes.

"Now you know how I feel when you come home all scratched up."

"Yeah, scratched up, maybe, but not beaten to a pulp."

"I don't understand why you care. A perfect time to care would have been four months ago but I get it. Better, smarter, healthier friends-"

"No. I'm sick of you blaming yourself-"

"Parker, who else is there to blame? I have no one Peter."

"Your mom?"

"I don't know. Somewhere? Why'd you push me away? Was it something I did?"

"It's my fault!" Peter suddenly yells, "I pushed you away because I love you too much to get hurt. I'm the Spider-Man and I didn't want to see you get hurt." A moment of silence passes, "Say something, please?"

"You love me?"

In an instant Peter engulfs me in a hug so tight telling me that he will never let me go again. I wrap my arms around him taking in an overwhelming feeling of joy and I smile. I nestle into Peter’s neck mumbling, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”