#until finally he got enough into it that he even improvised that bit at the end (in very classic sun records elvis presley™ style)

[septembersghost]

Burning Love montage has been stuck in my head all day and made me think of you!

💗🔥💃🏻LIKE A SWEET SONG OF A CHOIR YOU LIGHT MY MORNING SKY WITH BURNING LOVE 💃🏻🔥💗

was it because the every elvis second twt just did that section?

rent free in my head. shout out to the entire creative team, and especially austin butler, the man that you are, catherine martin, the woman that you are!!!

[callmerainman]

Accidentally In Love | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2

plot. You and Adam became friends with benefits. The lines of your situationship are blurred. Even more so when you and the First Man get closer and closer. What will it take you to understand that you and Adam are falling in love?

word count. 3.8k

tags. enemies to lovers, sinner!Adam, friends with benefits, sexual content, p in v sex, Adam Has a Heart, falling in love, Reader has wings, Reader is Lucifer's Royal Guard.

TW! this chapter contains an explicit sexual scene, MINORS DNI

taglist. @kaces-mind @call-me-nyxx @serendipitous-fernweh @plutodestr0yedme @luvvnightingalee

a/n. here it is, final chapter! Thank you for reading this silly little fic, I'll for sure write more about Adam soon! Hope you enjoyed it <3

"and now I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like I love you"

—

It’s karaoke night for you and Adam. Yeah, karaoke night. At first it started off as a joke. One time, after an usual afternoon of strenuous intercourse, you and Adam found yourselves singing “Out on the Tiles” by Led Zeppelin. You had decided to put on some music in shuffle to try to muffle up your obscene sounds that both of you understood you couldn’t contain. Next thing you knew you and Adam were performing an improvised gig on the already ruined bed of your room.

“I’m so glad I’m living and gonna tell the world I am” you sang out of your lungs, holding an imaginary mic.

You pointed towards Adam, prompting him to finish the lyrics. Smiling, Adam clenched his hand in a fist to pretend to be on the mic too. He leaned backwards, throwing his head back.

“I got me a fine woman and she says that I’m her man” he sang back, enthusiastically.

This singing shenanigans would happen so often that you decided to set your own karaoke night on Fridays. You and Adam stole a karaoke machine from a bar and installed it in his room. And now he’s holding you by the shoulders, vigorously shaking you in a playful manner as you can’t stop laughing.

“Feels like you’re dying, you’re dying” he sings with all the air he could gather.

You bend in half, this time a real mic in your hand “Youuuuuuu, your sex is on fire”.

Adam mimics a guitar riff with an high pitched voice as you sing along to Kings of Leon.

“Consuuuuuumed, with what’s to transpire!” Adam goes, crouching onwards himself.

Something definitely changed between you and Adam. You still don’t know what it is but it’s pacifying you.

—

The other patrons at the Hotel noticed, even though a bit later. Your relationship was so obviously sexual that none of them really stopped to think if there was more. Until signs started to show.

One time, all of you were watching a movie downstairs. You had forced Adam to participate even if he didn’t want to and was suggesting to have another karaoke night instead. But in the end, you both plopped down on the couch next to each other with everyone and got comfortable in front of a romantic comedy Charlie put on. At first, you and Adam tried to keep your facade of annoyance. You and him were so dense, you didn’t think the others knew that you two were fucking, so you had to pretend to still hate each other. But, as the movie progressed, you and Adam lost your purpose of showing a fake resentment. You glanced down and noticed the tip of your fingers resting really close to Adam’s. His fingers, weirdly enough, were moving in a jerking motion, stroking the fabric of the couch back and forth, as if he was nervous. You moved your fingers closer. With unusual uncertainty from his part, Adam slid his fingers even closer to yours, making them touch. And you and Adam held hands. You decided not to mention it, staring at the TV with your face on fire and his cheeks colored in a red hue. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole movie, and when it ended you separated quickly, again naively thinking that nobody noticed. But, during the movie, Angel had definitely noticed. The spider demon let out one of the loudest gasps in his life as he covered his mouth with four hands. When you and Adam went upstairs later, everyone was still hanging out in the common room. And Angel raised his shoulders and arms.

“Are y’all blind or did you see what I saw?” he asked, almost irritated.

“What?” Cherri asked while mindlessly scrolling on her phone.

“Like, (Y/N) and Adam holding hands?!” he exclaimed, his arms dramatically falling flat on his sides.

“They’ve been fucking like two horny rabbits for months and this is where you draw the line?” Husk questions, raising a red eyebrow.

“Fucking is one thing, holding hands while watching a romantic movie is another!” Angel protest.

Cherri chuckles “It’s obvious by the amount of sex they have that there’s more”.

“Obvious?” Angel questions “Uhhh, hello?? Hate sex is a thing!”.

And that wasn’t the one and only time. Seems so obvious to everyone now, except to you two. It’s in the way you and Adam snuggle during movies, or when you’re cooking and he hugs you from behind, resting his chin in the space between your horns. It’s in the fact that you don’t call each other names anymore unless you’re having sex. Or when you fly around the city together pulling pranks on people, and sing your hearts out during karaoke. Now it’s not only in the way you two wildly wrestle under the sheets. It’s in the goofy way you try to sweep it under the carpet.

“Uh, we’re going upstairs uh to…FIGHT! Definitely not to have sex! Because we hate SEX!” Adam stopped “No wait, I love sex, I mean-“

“We’d HATE to have sex with each other!” you say, trying to back him up.

“Exactly, not with such a stupid cunt!”

“Hey, too much” you whisper, elbowing his side.

“Oh shit I’m so sorry babe”

And everybody looked at you the most unconvinced, inexpressive poker face. But Charlie, underneath, felt that it was heartwarming. Even if Adam whispered in your ear a “can’t wait to fuck your brains out” when displaying apparent affection, she knew that something was going on and it was nothing but beautiful. This is the purpose of the Hazbin Hotel, after all.

—

Honestly you have no idea what you and Adam are right now. First, you were just a Royal Guard who had to surveil the First Man on Earth, the Exterminator. Then you became his friend with benefits. Now sex is still here, but maybe you’re more friends than anything? Or more. Nothing was defined. You never set boundaries. You had your fair chances of getting intimate with other people, but it felt so wrong so you never went for sex. Adam felt the same. When Cherri brought everyone to the club to have a night out, he had his opportunities to have sex with other girls. But he just didn’t feel like it was right. Especially not if you were in the club with him.

“You can do what you like, you know?” you suggested him in his ear one of those times, in a space between the bar counter and the dance floor. But Adam just shook his head.

“Nah, don’t really feel like it. I mean, yeah that bitch with the black top was all over me but she’s not my type”

He tried to play it cool, not looking at you in the eyes. But in reality, Adam was just checking around to see if your friends were looking. And when he made sure that they were out of sight, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. It was unexpected coming from him, sure, but you let yourself melt in his kisses as music bumped in your ears. Something was happening.

—

“Here you are” you say.

Your hair is flowing, moved by the slow but firm flapping of your wings. You’re suspended meters and meters high, just in front of the Hazbin Hotel sign. Adam is sitting on the “Z”, holding his golden guitar in his hands. He looks kinda annoyed.

“I was just practicing guitar” he says.

“And I’m still a Royal Guard on duty”

“If your duty is going at it with the one guy you were supposed to surveil, then you’re already doing a great job”

You roll your eyes and scoff “Funny, very funny Adam”.

“Alright, you can hear me play something” he gives in.

“As long as it’s not Wonderwall”

“The fuck no, I fuckin’ hate the Oasis!”

So, with another flap of your wings, you gracefully land next to him. You expect Adam to go wild with one of his exaggerated, over-the-top and ego-boosting guitar solos. But instead, Adam quietly starts a finger picking, quite tune. It’s not a specific rock song, just a chill, peaceful chord progression. Adam starts humming a tune, eyes closed. You press your elbows against your knees and rest your cheek in the open palm of your hand, looking at the view. Pentagram City is a mess, for sure. But with Adam’s unusually calm vocalizing, and his presence, it feels like home. You peek a look at Adam. He’s still keeping his eyes closed, it’s the first time you see him so calm, and not his loud, immature self. He’s beautiful. You realize that your face is hot. And you can’t see it but your pupils are dangerously dilated. You press your lips together, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Oh you know what’s happening. Maybe you should make it stop. You try to take a deep breath. You’re so in love with Adam.

Adam is lost in his own thoughts and music. He was so comfortable in your presence as he strummed that he almost forgot you were there. He opens his eyes, he just wants to take a quick look at you before closing them again. He realizes that he’s done for the moment he sees how you’re looking at him. With shining eyes, dilated pupils, a fond smile on your face. He doesn’t really realize what it means for you, neither do you. But now his heart is beating at unprecedented speed. Shit, shit, shit. It’s not the first time it happens with you. One time, he felt this way when he woke up before you and saw you sleeping naked next to him, cuddled in his arms. The other was when you held hands for the first time during movie time with the other guests. But this time he’s feeling it on a whole other level. You’re so beautiful. And you’re standing by him listening to his tunes despite the man he is. The one who did so much harm but it’s trying to get better. Adam doesn’t know if he actually has gained any redeeming qualities, but one thing he’s sure about is that at least with you he is a better man. He thinks back on when you two used to argue non stop, resenting each other’s presence. It looks like a far, distant reality that never happened, if anything it’s at least a joke. Adam is so in love with you.

—

Sex still represents the majority of your relationship with Adam. Unlike your feelings, it never changed. Always so loud, fun, satisfying for sure, and unhinged. You and Adam could unleash your personalities at best under the sheets, and that was the best part of it. But this time, something is out of place. Not in a bad way, at all.

Adam is on top of you, placed between your spread legs. His wings are wide open, covering your naked bodies and encapsulating them in a small space reserved to only you two. His thrust are firm, but also slow and sensual, which wasn’t really his style. He’s holding your face with both hands, as he’s mesmerized by your deep moans of pleasure. You cling onto him with nails and legs, holding him as if he was about so slip away. You open your eyes, and catch him staring. He would usually say something sarcastic, like asking the fuck are you looking at. But instead, he looks lost in a profound state of blissful hypnosis, his pupils dilated and mouth slightly parted. Then, Adam plunges forward, still sliding in and out of you with slick sounds. Your breathing becomes even more irregular, hips jerking under his body as waves of pleasure hit you. You tug at Adam’s hair in the spot between his horns. With one hand, Adam firmly holds your hip, while the other has its fingers entangled in your hair, lightly pulling them.

“A-Adam…please I’m so close” you stutter. You would never beg usually, but this time it’s hard not to do so.

What surprises you is the way Adam responds. He would have usually bragged about you begging for him to make you reach your climax, reminding you how much of a whore you are for him. And you would have protested by flipping the roles and making him a mess under your body. But Adam just sinks his face in your neck, whispering.

“I know baby, I know. I got you” he says, interrupted by a moan “Fuck you’re doing so good I swear”.

His movements in you become more erratic, sloppier, and his breath hotter against your ear. The fingers plunged in your hair start stroking your scalp, you try to suffocate your moans of pleasure in his shoulder. You come first around his shaft, whispering quietly his name until you come down from your high. Adam climaxes second, emitting a low, strangled moan in your neck as his wings twitch. You take some time to realize how good it was, your chests rising and lowering with every breath, holding each other. It’s when your mind clears that you realize how atypical of a sexual encounter that was for you and Adam. It was…sweet? Really intimate and not in the physical meaning of the word? Adam never praised you in bed, and you never spoke to him so gently asking to make you finish. And the way he looked at you was absurd, to say at best. With a cherry colored hue on his cheeks, and a light in his eyes you rarely saw in him.

“Ah shit that was great” Adam chuckles, collapsing next to you.

The pride in his face says it all, maybe you were wrong before. You mentally shrug.

“Yeah” you roll on your side, facing him “but I’m so hungry right now”.

Adam sighs, looking up at the ceiling “When I was in Heaven, there was this place that delivered the best fucking ice cream your taste buds could ever graze. A mountain of it. Great for after sex I swear. I miss it”.

Adam takes the opportunity to talk about Heaven more. He’s clearly being nostalgic. He misses it. And while you like hearing him waffling about all the crazy concert he performed, the best restaurants, theme parks and clubs in Heaven, you can’t help but frown. A small smile still lingers on your face, but you ask yourself if Adam really belongs in here. A part of you says of course yes, the other is unsure.

“You know” you say, scooting closer to him “I’ve never really asked myself about how life in Heaven would be. But it really sounds like a beautiful place”.

Adam nods, twisting on his side to face you “Oh fuck yeah it was, I wish I could…”

He interrupts himself as he meets your face, pressed against the pillow. A small, comprehensive smile is gently placed on it, and your eyes are stuck in his own with a visible shine.

Oh no don’t look at me like that.

Adam’s grin disappears, he looks away and tries to play it cool as always, glancing around the room. He clears his throat.

“Yeah I mean, Heaven was great but under a certain perspective…” he trails off.

You wait for him to finish, and he can’t escape your eyes. He finally reciprocates again, getting lost into them.

“Hell is not half-bad, for some reasons” he says.

Adam doesn’t realize it, but now he’s smiling too. His eyebrows are arched upwards in adoration as he ponders on every inch of you. Your now relaxed expression, your glimmering eyes, your naked body covered in white sheets, your head slightly plunged in the pillow. Suddenly, Adam’s smile fades. His eyes go wide, and his heart skips a beat. A wave of realization hits him.

“Holy shit (Y/N) I’m so in love with you”.

Both of you jump in surprise, moving away from each other as the mattress bounces under your bodies. You clench the sheets, and you feel your heart pounding. Where did that come from?!

“What?!” you exclaim.

“WHAT?!” Adam yelps back, incredulous of his own words.

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, he didn’t even mean to say it in his mind actually. You can feel his own panic on your skin, as every inch of your body figuratively catches fire. You don’t know what to say. Adam sits up, covering his face with a hand in embarrassment.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry I ruined everything!” he exclaims, voice panicky.

“Ruined what?”

Oh no. It takes you a second to realize what you said. Adam’s hand files down from his face and looks at you. And you see something you thought you would never witness on Adam’s face. Pain. Adam is hurt. His mouth is slightly open, his breath suspended, his eyebrows knitted. You used to call him many names when you two argued. An asshole, a dirtbag, a dickhead, an irresponsible, immature jerk. But Adam never batted an eye. It’s the first time you see an unmistakable, terrible flash of pain in his face. You feel horrible. You sit up, your mouth open and about to say something. It’s hard to gather the right words after saying something so wrong. You extend a hand towards him, but Adam leans back, away from your touch.

“Adam fuck that’s not what I…” you say, voice shaky.

Adam shuffles away from you again, his face full of regret, embarrassment and clearly pain. He shakes his head, proceeding to get out of bed. He starts looking frantically for his clothes, putting them on as quick as he can. No words come out your mouth, your mind too confused and full of things to process. In just a matter of seconds, Adam is already dressed.

“I-I’m sorry, I gotta go” he stutters, looking at you for a split second.

“Adam, wait! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sa-!”

You don’t have time to finish what you have to say. Adam had already opened the window of your room, and in the blink of an eye he flew away. Shit, shit, shit! Why did you even say that? That came out so wrong. But you couldn’t help it, you were so taken aback by his sudden confession. You mentally punch yourself in the face. Physically, you limit yourself to drag a hand down your face and groan loudly in your palm. You try to give yourself some time to think, you don’t want to hurt Adam even more. You spend some minutes with your face smothered in your pillow, suffocating sounds of pure frustration. After you gathered your thoughts together, you finally get up from the bed. You put your clothes back on, and head towards the still open window. With a strong flap of your wings, you sprint upwards. As you thought, Adam is sitting on the Hotel sign. He looks pissed. His lips are tightly pressed together and his eyebrows are knitted at the corners. He notices you but doesn’t look up.

“Adam, c’mon…” you say, as kindly as you can.

You keep floating in front of him, the wind generated by your wings making Adam’s hair slightly flow. He doesn’t look at you, he’s just staring at his own knees. For a solid minute you two don’t say anything. Silence has never been a thing between you and Adam, but you respect his wish. Suddenly, Adam breaks it.

“It’s not like you have to pity me” he mumbles.

“I’m not pitying you”

“Um yeah? I just ran off like a pissy school girl and here you are looking at me like a lost child”

“Adam-“

“You know how much time has passed since I last said those words?”

You don’t say anything. Adam finally looks up at you, his eyes a mess of emotions.

“Centuries” he says, spiteful of himself.

Your eyebrows arch upwards in surprise, your forehead corrugated. Your stomach burns, as you can finally feel every emotion Adam tried to hide under sarcasm for so long.

“Centuries?” you ask.

“Yeah, and I know I’ve been literally fucking around for a lot of time so it’s actually my fault, but I can’t say that I don’t mean it once I say it”

“Adam, my question was genuine”.

His mind stops in his tracks. You look weirdly calm. A bit unsure, of course, this is your first very serious conversation. But you’re still collected and he envies you.

“I really wanted to ask you what did you think you ruined. Because I’ll admit it, and I don’t wanna hurt you even more, but I don’t know what goes on in your head. We have all this sex, but also some care, but we also bicker. It’s confusing. I don’t even know if monogamy is your thing. But you showed me care. Sometimes, you still are a bit of a jerk let’s be honest. But I felt care too”.

Your stomach is twirling around, but you can’t stop your flow of consciousness. You wanna know what Adam means, what the First Man wants from a sinner he swore to hate not so long ago. Adam strokes his hair with a hand. His blush intensifies.

“I myself don’t really know what we are. If you know please fuckin’ tell me. What I know is that I feel something, love if that’s what we wanna call it. I mean, look at you! You sing along to rock songs with me, you know how to fight and look so badass while doing it, and you’re hot as fuck too! But if you don’t feel the sa-“

In a sudden movement, you zip towards Adam and grab him by his robe to push him on your lips. He lets out a muffled sound of surprise, but quickly closes his eyes to reciprocate the kiss. It’s calm, sweet, your lips and tongue are moving in tandem in such a tender yet passionate manner. It’s full of care, whatever it is. When you pull away, you look at each other in slight embarrassment. But you push it back immediately.

“I would have never thought I’d say it to you, but I do love you, Adam. Even if you’re still not perfect at all, you’re still a dickhead let’s admit it, I feel something for you. And I don’t expect you to suddenly become a better person just for the sake of being with me, but right now I’m sure I love you like this”.

You had blurted it all out in a single breath, still close to Adam’s face after your kiss. And finally, he smiles. Not with his usual teasing, shit eating grin. He smiles genuinely.

“I still don’t know if I’ll be a redeemable man, or if I want to become one. But at least with you I feel a bit of a better man”.

You smile back at Adam. He looks like a whole other person compared to how he was when you met. He still is his old self. But you came to love him. You and Adam lean forward, capturing yourselves in another deep, thoughtful kiss. Your wings meet, grazing each other as they close around you two. After a while of getting lost in your affection, you separate and playfully smirk.

“C’mon you whiny baby, why don’t we go downstairs to join everyone for movie night?” you suggest.

Adam groans and rolls his eyes “Us being a thing doesn’t mean that I have to participate in every fuckin’ activity of this Hotel”

“Uhh, yeah it does? I’m still in charge of forcing you to join. Now get your lazy ass off of there and let’s go”

“Okay, finee but can we have sex again after?”

“Of course we can”

“Hell yeah”

[alyssab-123]

Moriarty the Patriot - Sherlock, William, uncertainty and control:

(aka me writing a lot about something i find a bit interesting)

I think what I find most interesting about Sherlock and Liam as a duo (platonic or romantic idrc in this context) is how Liam's ways of controlling Sherlock in his plans differs from the ways he controls others. Whilst people like Bonde and Moran are allowed to improvise as long as his goal is achieved, Liam lets Sherlock choose between a limited amount of ways where he still doesn't completely understand the goal behind the situation. Liam seems to think that it's not completely possible to actually control Sherlock the way others are and has to change his approach. In fact, Sherlock as a person opens Liam up to the idea that not everything can or needs to be controlled or certain.

The first meeting with Sherlock is pure chance. Liam had no knowledge of Sherlock's existence until they bumped into each other on the Noahtic. They randomly strike up conversation by the pure coincidence of being in the same place at the same time. Liam in his letter states that this was entertaining enough for him to forget about his plan (something which is usually a constant in his mind), even considering abandoning it to continue mystery solving with Sherlock as they got to know each other more. All this from a chance encounter, something which Liam doesn't usually have room for in his plans. It opens him up to things, in this case a person, out of his control for the first time in the series as far as we can tell - and he enjoys it.

This leads to the addition of Sherlock into the Moriarty Plan, an unexpected but helpful asset in exposing the misdeeds of the nobility to the people. Liam sometimes describes Sherlock as the main character of the performance, which is significant in terms of their dynamic. With Liam as the director, Sherlock's narrative is technically under his control - so Sherlock is consistently put in situations where he has the power to act in a limited number of ways as per this narrative. This frustrates Sherlock greatly, as he seems to value being in control of the mysteries but now the mystery has control over him. He also knows he's being toyed by someone with more control of the events he's in. However, the control Liam has isn't absolute. Liam gives Sherlock many times to have the answer to the mystery handed to him, which Sherlock denies due to his mentality of wanting to solve the mystery himself. To me this shows that Sherlock is the one that has the choice over continuing the chase (and therefore the entire act) at all. If he'd accepted the answer from Hope or Alder, Liam's entire plotting would have to be rewritten. Sherlock overestimates the control Liam has over him, and Liam knows that he cannot control what Sherlock does completely (but can put restrictions on his options).

This dynamic is especially seen in The Riot at New Scotland Yard, where Sherlock specifically acknowledges that the way he acts could disrupt the Lord of Crime's plans, and is frustrated about his lack of control here. But the fact that Sherlock technically had the power to possibly disrupt Liam's plans at all in Scotland Yard shows that Sherlock has an element of free will in his situations.

In The Two Criminals (im going anime only from here since i haven't got all the way through the manga yet) is the next time we see something that Liam did not control for - Sherlock's act of murdering Milverton. Sherlock may have murdered Milverton to save Watson's marriage, but it seems to be also in part to prove to Liam that he cannot be completely controlled. This is when it occurs to Liam that, in his mind, Sherlock is definitely going to kill him and he plans for just that.

Liam's letter to Sherlock is a goodbye at its core. He plans to have Sherlock at his side in his final moments and thinks that despite their friendship Sherlock will stand by. But by now Liam feels that his control is fading - not only over his people, but his sins. The only thing he requests in that letter (which are the only things he wants to control for) are Sherlock helping others, and Sherlock being by his side to, in essence, pull the trigger and let him accept death.

Sherlock however has shown that Liam cannot control him before and does so again. On the bridge he perhaps does the thing that Liam expects the least - Sherlock tries to help him. In fact Liam is so appalled by the idea that he as the Lord of Crime is worth saving that he tries to regain control of the situation by starting a half-simulated fight. I say half-simulated since the fight is simulated by Liam to say that Sherlock defeated him after the event, but also is full of real tensions between the two. Sherlock is fighting for Liam to stay, Liam is fighting for Sherlock to give up on him and let him die (what he planned for almost his entire life).

Then, dangling above the river Thames, Sherlock pulls out the biggest surprise for Liam - Sherlock came to help because he's his friend. It's funny how Liam is accounted for all the people of London projecting their rage at him, but not for the fact that there may be one or two people that would want to spend time with him. He couldn't have planned for the genuine connection he and Sherlock had gained. He couldn't account for perhaps the most integral thing - a person that actually cares for him outside of his usual circle and wants him to have a happy life, despite everything he's done.

It isn't until he's falling that Liam realised Sherlock is truly an agent of chaos in his otherwise meticulous plan. He watched Sherlock jump to catch him, he views him strangely enough as a symbol of peace. Sometimes, chaos and unpredictablility can bring peace, something that had never accounted for can bring good.

By the time he wakes up in New York, Liam is in a state of uncertainty. No plans, no goals, his life is a 'blank'. It is Sherlock who convinces him that this uncertainty can be a good thing. He can 'paint that canvas however he likes' even if it takes some time. He can struggle to find his way, because the way him finds will still be right for him eventually. Uncertainty and a lack of control can create new opportunities and a new outlook on life. And Sherlock will be there to support him. No matter what he decides to do.

Sherlock represents the uncertainty of life for Liam and the good it can bring. He shows him that he doesn't need to plan everything, a lack of control can be a good thing, and that sometimes the best things can come from chance and uncertainty. They, as a duo, are an product of this uncertainty and lack of control.

(anyways can people tell that i kind of write essays/powerpoints on things i like for fun? this was going to be like one paragraph or two at first but then more details to explore came up. feel free to correct me if i've missed/misinterpreted anything in my writing! I'm still new to MTP - i watched the anime for the first time like 2 weeks ago and have read the first 9 manga volumes too, plus a few of the new york/time skip chapters - but this series has really taken over my life recently and that's not a bad thing)

[invinciblerodent]

Baldur's Gate 3's Potato Chowder - RECIPE

So a few days ago, I found this recipe around the start of act 3, near the kitchen of the Temple of the Open Hand in Rivington:

[Screenshot of recipe as it appears in-game. Exact steps will be transcribed below, within the recipe.]

It looked... honestly very simple and not dissimilar from a Hungarian potato főzelék/stew (which is a very cheap and homely peasant dish I love), so I just made it for lunch today, and guys....

this soup is uh. really fucking good. I tried following it as close to the letter as possible, but since it's quite vague, I did have to improvise a fair bit- but it's very cheap and easy to make, it's warm and comforting while still quite light (there are like. NO spices in there, it's a very European-feeling dish), and I'd say it's surprisingly filling, but it's. It's potatoes, so there's nothing exactly surprising about that.

I tried to write out the recipe in a very beginner-friendly way, so even if you're not super confident in the kitchen, it should be easy to follow! ❤️

Make yourself some video game soup, it's awesome.

INGREDIENTS:

(For about 6 servings)

A roughly egg-sized lump of lard (This can be subtituted with a different cooking fat if you'd like, but I recommend sticking with lard, as it adds a nice flavor, and it's kind of the staple fat for these peasant stews.)

Potatoes (I used just under two pounds)

Half of a medium leek

Small yellow onion (or half of a larger one)

2 cloves garlic

Roughly 1/2 to 1 cup white cooking wine (optional, substitute given in recipe)

Vegetable stock (or chicken- or beef stock, or water)

2-3 tbsp all purpose flour

Salt to taste

1/2 cup of sour cream/créme fraiche (optional)

Shredded cheese and/or croutons to serve (optional)

(Recipe with transcriptions and exact steps under the cut!)

(This is basically all there is in this. Honestly.)

STEPS:

"1. Put your lard in a pot- a chunky one, mind. When it stops being lard and starts being hot lard, add any good-smelling veggies (leeks, garlics, onions) that you've chopped all thin. Please salt this so it doesn't taste of nothing."

This first step is pretty self-explanatory. I sliced the white part of he leek thinly, cubed my onion, and minced my two large cloves of garlic. In the lard melted in as chunky a pot as I've got (make sure it's not non-stick!!!), I sauteed first the leek and the onion with a big pinch of salt, and once the onion was translucent, the leek soft, and they've released some liquid (around 3-5 minutes on medium-low heat), I added the garlic, and cooked it until fragrant.

"2. When it's soft and good-smelling, chuck in any flour you've got and stir the mixture so it don't burn (note for me - it's very important not to burn it, emphasize)"

"2.5. PLEASE DO NOT LET IT BURN THAT'D BE RUBBISH"

Now we make a roux by adding just enough flour to the mixture that it starts sticking together, and looks fairly dry, but no part of the flour remains powdery. (This was about 3 tbsp for me, but since this process goes quick, I did eyeball it).

It's important to keep stirring, as this can and does stick to the bottom of a pot, but it will determine the thickness of the final soup, deepen its flavor, and give it a nice, creamy consistency. I made mine fairly blonde (light tan in color, cooked just past long enough to dissipate any raw flour smell), but it can go to a fairly dark, caramel color before burning if you'd like the flavor to be a bit deeper. (This should only take a couple minutes.)

Please do be careful- it the roux burns, that flavor will be impossible to get rid of, so.... yeah, it would be rubbish.

"3. If you're fancy and have wine (or have a generously stocked temple wine cellar nearby) add a bit of it now and cook it off. When it's done, add some wedged potatoes and a lot more liquid (not wine this time or you'll have a headache in the morning)."

We now deglaze the bottom of the pot with the wine: after pouring it in, with the wooden spoon, we scrape up any stuck pieces of flour or aromatics that there might be on the bottom.

(Note: If you don't have wine, or would prefer not to use alcohol for any reason, a neat trick is to mix about 1 tbsp of white wine vinegar and 1 tsp of granulted sugar into a cup of water, and use this mixture as a substitute for 1 cup of white wine. In most recipes, the wine's main purpose is to add acidity as well as sweetness to the dish- this trick aims to replicate those qualities, and tastes very similar in the end result. I use it often in almost anything that calls for white wine if I happen to not have any at hand. But do make sure to taste beforehand, it's very easy to go too heavy on the vinegar! It should taste sour, but not so much that it's unpalatable.)

Then, I rinsed my cubed potatoes (though the text calls for wedges, those often don't cook quite evenly!) with water to get rid of the excess starch, added them to the pot, and then covered them in vegetable stock. You can use chicken- or beef stock (which would make the soup a bit richer, heavier) or water (if you want it lighter) as well- in this last case you might need to add more salt than you'd think. (Make sure to taste- it should be flavorful, but not salty! Bouillon cubes and premade stocks often have a very high salt content, so if using that, you might find you don't need to add any.)

(It sohuld look something like this.)

"4. Cook for half an hour or so til the potatoes are nice and tender, and mash some of 'em up in the liquid. If you've got any cow products - cheese, milk and the like - add them now for extra delicious results."

From when the mixture starts to boil, it should take about 25-35 minutes of simmering on low heat, covered, for the potatoes to soften- you can test doneness by sticking a fork in one of the pieces, or gently pushing one against the edge of the pot with your wooden spoon. It should give easily at light pressure with both methods.

I then put the sour cream/créme fraiche in a heat-safe container (a mug will do perfectly), and ladled a bit of the hot cooking liquid on top of it, mixing it thoroughly- both to thin it out, and bring the temperatures closer to each other, which should help avoid any curdling. Stirring constantly, I then add the cream mixture to the soup in a thin, slow stream. (Any mildly acidic, creamy dairy product should work here- though I do think yogurt might be a bit too sour, if using that I would probably omit the wine.)

Then, as everything is done cooking and the cream is distributed evenly with no curds, I turn the heat off for safety, and using a very traditional, very fantasy, not at all anachronistic immersion blender, I blitz the entire thing for roughly 30 seconds. You can of course blend it less for more chunks (or remove some cooked potato bits before blending to add them back later), or even longer for a smoother consistency, but I did like that about that much blending left only a few, small chunks of nicely cooked potato in the otherwise smooth and creamy result.

I served with shredded Port Salut cheese and croutons on top- but this is of course optional, and I think just some nice, crusty bread would also work wonderfully!

Go make yourself a video game soup!!!!!!! It's so easy and good!!!!!!!

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which this story comes to an end. (fucking finally.)

part eight of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7) if you have no idea what i’m talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that’s the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus a fair bit of complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i’m talking about: it’s done! it’s done!! i wish i could say i planned to end this on 3/8 but lmao, did not know the significance of the day until, like, this tuesday. but it’s done. i’m taking a break from the world of this story to work on some gift exchange fics, but i will be uploading the first few fics to ao3 soon, and should start posting the shanks POV post-marineford story in late april. if there are scenes you’d especially like his POV on, let me know! i’ll do my best to incorporate them.

Buggy spent a very cathartic half-hour shouting at a bunch of guys who ate up his words with a spoon.  Always eager to please, the men obediently found themselves disembarkation buddies, cleaned up the messes they’d made, and started gathering their things (mostly weapons they’d stolen off the guards at Impel Down).

It was nice to be respected, Buggy thought as he watched them scurry around the ship.  However misplaced the respect, it made people listen to him, something Buggy had wanted for as long as he could remember.  He’d never been able to get enough.  Probably never would, if the hunger that grew every time these men cheered his name was anything to go by.

He wandered up to the room he shared with Galdino—thankfully empty, he didn’t want to end up in another slap fight over details—and took care of his own possessions. (It wouldn’t do to have any excuses to delay or hang back when they got to the meeting point.) With the modified Marine jacket and hat back on, Buggy could fit everything else in a small satchel that he strapped around his waist, neatly hidden by a twist in a sash and the way the jacket fell.  He left the room… more or less the way it had been when he arrived—there was no way to hide that dent in the wall, and Galdino would have to be the one to deal with the smear of wax across half the bed—and exited the room for the last time, taking in the view of the deck below with a contented sigh.

The Red Force was a well-run ship—a compliment Buggy would never voice aloud, but in the privacy of his own mind he allowed himself to think it.  Even with hundreds of strangers aboard who couldn’t help but get in the way, she was clean, well-equipped, and sailing smoothly.  Buggy didn’t know if he’d be able to say the same in a few hours, when all these men would be trying to squeeze onto the somewhat smaller Big Top.  Buggy rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his involuntary grimace at the thought.  Maybe the island they were meeting up on had some industry he could put them to work at?  A farm would be fantastic, if he could get paid for their labor and get the produce at a discount as well… 

Buggy looked over the deck in search of one of Shanks’ senior officers.  He didn’t know most of them by name, but those cloaks and capes they wore were distinctive enough that he thought he should be able to identify them on sight, and surely if the one he found didn’t know anything about the island, they could point him to someone who did.  The navigator?  Roux, who seemed to know a little about everything?  Beckman, whose job it was to know something about everything?

And, think of the devil, one of the doors to the interior of the ship opened to reveal Beckman, speaking with a few of those cloaked men.  They each went their own way, and Beckman crossed to the railing, taking up a pose not dissimilar from Buggy’s a few levels above him.  That was a first mate for you, always keeping an eye on things, one way or another.

Buggy sent his feet down the stairs and the rest of him took the shorter path, swooping down to Beckman’s side like a giant white bat.  To his credit, Beckman didn’t react to this unusual approach. Instead, calm as anything, he said, “Whatever you said to those men, it seems to be doing the trick.  Thanks.”

Buggy waved the praise off.  “If they’re so eager to be under my command, they’ve got to start learning to behave themselves sooner or later.  Might as well be now.”  Leaning an elbow against the railing, Buggy looked Beckman over.  He sure did seem a lot more relaxed now than he’d been outside Shanks’ rooms.  Relaxed enough to share intel?  “Tell me something.”

Beckman glanced sideways at Buggy.  “Hm?”

“What do you know about this island where we’re meeting up with my crew?  Is it populated?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, no,” Beckman said, tilting his head back, recalling the facts.  “Snake picked a jungle island that’s a bit out of the way of normal trade routes.  There’s some ruins, but no signs of recent habitation.”

Buggy tried not to visibly wilt.  “Ah.”

Beckman’s eyes lingered on Buggy.  “We didn’t want to risk a naval presence on the island getting word out to the rest of the Marines.”

“No, no, it makes sense.”  Buggy sighed, shoving a hand under his hat to scrub at his hair.  “Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna feed all these guys in that case.”  No way had anyone thought to tell Alvida that Buggy was bringing new guys with him, let alone a lot of new guys.  She’d have gotten the ship supplied with their normal numbers in mind.

Well, the new guys were a tough bunch, maybe they’d see hunting for their dinner as a fun challenge.  Assuming there was anything safe to hunt and eat on this island… Buggy dug his fingers into his scalp, biting back a frustrated groan.

Beckman laughed.  “Yeah, I don’t envy you that job. At least we were expecting to take on passengers.”  He whistled to get the attention of someone up in the crow’s nest and flashed a hand sign at them.  After a few exchanges, he stopped signing and rolled his eyes.  “Stubborn, overworking little—” He cut himself off and glanced at Buggy.  “Was that all you wanted from me?”  Buggy nodded.  “Then I’ll see you when Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… or when we land.  Whichever comes first.”  With that, he walked over to the mast, got the attention of a young man who’d been leaning against it, and grabbed onto a low-hanging rope.  The two of them pulled themselves up into the rigging—to harass whoever was up in the crow’s nest into taking a break, probably.

Buggy watched them climb for a minute, a frown crawling its way across his face.  When Shanks finally gets up the nerve to talk to you… so there was something Shanks was hiding that he didn’t think he should, huh?  Buggy had figured the feeling he was getting off Shanks was about one of those topics he’d had private conversations with Roger about way back when, not something that Shanks would consider any of Buggy’s business.  But apparently that wasn’t the case.

Buggy’s frown deepened.  He could come up with a list of topics Shanks wouldn’t want to broach but would still feel obligated to bring up, no problem.  But that list was short, and Buggy didn’t like the thought of discussing anything on it.

Unsettled, Buggy leaned back against the mast, arms crossed.

“Look out below!!!”

Buggy looked up and shrieked at the sight of a man falling head-first out of the crow’s nest.  He scattered—it wasn’t like his body would soften the blow enough that the guy would live—and then blinked, as a rope he hadn’t noticed went taut, and the falling slowed to a gentle, somehow mechanical motion.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he demanded, floating up to be eye-level with the slowly descending man.  This was, if Buggy remembered correctly, Shanks’ sniper, Yasopp, of the infamous years-long tempting out to sea.  Someone with good aim, and a keen eye, but not particularly decisive—or, at least, he hadn’t been back then.  He was also apparently someone with a shitty sense of humor; he wasn’t answering Buggy’s question because he was too busy laughing and pointing at Buggy.

“Your face!  Oh, my stomach hurts,” he said, clutching at his waist.  “Oh man, that was almost worth getting kicked out of the nest.”  As they approached the ground, he shifted his weight so his feet would touch down first, and untangled himself from the rope with practiced ease.  “Phew.  Sorry, uh—Buggy, right?  Yeah, sorry about that.  The crew knows better than to stand so close to the mast when the watch changes, and I didn’t think to check before I jumped.”

“Jumping from the crow’s nest for fun.”  Buggy shook his head.  “And here I thought you people were almost respectable.”  Yasopp, the maniac, cackled.  Beckman, drifting down to the deck on his own rope mechanism, in a much more orderly fashion, chuckled a little.

“It’s possible we’ve been on… well, not our best behavior.  Let’s call it better behavior than usual, these last few days,” Beckman admitted.  “Except for Yasopp, who doesn’t know the meaning of the concept and so stays up in his nest.”

“You haven’t been on your best behavior, you’re as mean as ever,” Yasopp said, putting on an over-the-top pout.

Beckman rolled his eyes.  “Because I need to be, to get anything done around here,” he said.  “And you need a break.  Drink, talk to someone, tinker with one of your ridiculous trick bullets, I don’t care, just—let someone else keep an eye on things for a few hours, okay?”  He nudged Yasopp in the side with an elbow.  “Or are you gonna say you didn’t train your juniors well enough at their job?”

Yasopp crossed his arms, sulky.  “No,” he conceded.

“Good,” Beckman said.  Giving Buggy an apologetic grimace as he untied himself, he said, “I trust he’s apologized to you already?”  His tone suggested that if he hadn’t, Yasopp would soon regret it.

What a mother hen of a first mate, Buggy thought, fighting down a smile. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said, shrugging off the incident like it hadn’t carved a decade off his lifespan.  “I should’ve known you people had to be at least a little crazy, since you run around with Shanks.”

A small smile crossed Beckman’s face, and Yasopp muffled a snort of laughter in a fist.

Someone called out in a panicky tone for Beckman from a far corner of the ship, and the smile fell off his face.  “If you’ll excuse me?”  Not waiting for a reply from either of them, Beckman walked off.

“So mean,” Yasopp said, fondness creeping into his voice.

“That’s first mates for you,” Buggy said, unable to keep a similar fondness out of his own voice.  Shanks had done a good job finding this guy.  When you grew up with the gold standard first mate (or, heh, the Silvers standard?), it was hard to find someone who could measure up.  “Keeping things in order when your captain’s lost his head.”

Yasopp chuckled.  “Ah, the boss isn’t that bad off.”  When Buggy gave him a skeptical look, he smirked.  “Lost his heart, maybe, but he knows where his head’s at.”

“I—uh.”  Flustered, Buggy cleared his throat.  He’d really just gone and said it.  “You’re a lot less subtle than your crewmates.”

Yasopp shrugged.  “I leave subtlety to subtle men.  I’m not built for it; I’m built for getting to the heart of the matter, and doing it fast.”  He extended two fingers towards Buggy, lifted his thumb into the air, and twitched his hand like it was a gun recoiling.  “We both know where things stand.  What’s the use in dancing around it?”

“Sure,” Buggy muttered, his thoughts going back to what Beckman had said.  What was it Shanks both didn’t want to tell him and needed to tell him?  What was there left unsaid, besides the sort of thing Buggy had already decided didn’t need saying?  He crossed his arms.  Damn it, he’d been trying to avoid thinking about this shit!

“Hey,” Yasopp said, snapping his fingers to draw Buggy’s attention.  “You work with bombs, right?  You make them yourself?”

Welcoming the change in topic, Buggy scoffed.  “Of course,” he said, “only an idiot trusts the kind of weapons manufacturers who are willing to sell to pirates to make explosives that are good, reliable, and cheap, and I have better things to spend my money on.”  He narrowed his eyes at Yasopp.  “Why?”

“Because Beck just gave me permission to tinker with my trick bullets, and if you make your own explosives you might be able to figure out what I’m doing wrong with this one.”  Digging around in one of his oversized ammunition pouches, Yasopp presented Buggy with an unusually lightweight cartridge.  “Here, what do you think?”

Buggy cracked the cartridge open, curious.  Inside was a pool of silvery-black gunpowder and a thin-walled hollow bullet, which proved to have some other kind of powder inside.  Buggy pinched that powder between two fingers, rubbing them together to feel the grit and then sniffing at the residue left behind.  He stared at his fingers, baffled, and smelled them again.  “What is that, aluminum and an ammonium salt?”  Yasopp nodded.  “Are you trying to make a cartridge that explodes in the barrel?”

Yasopp sighed, running a hand through his locs.  “What I want is a smoke bomb I can fire out of a gun.  What I’m getting is… that, more or less.”

“Yeah, of course you are, a big velocity change ignites this stuff easily.  With a different catalyst, though, or maybe a better sealed chamber…” Buggy trailed off, considering the bullet.  A miniature smoke bomb, huh?  Something that could stand up to the initial shock of gunfire, and turns to noise and powder on impact… “Do you have a chem lab around here somewhere?”

Yasopp grinned.

The two of them didn’t emerge from Yasopp’s workroom until the bell rang out announcing last call for lunch.  Buggy wasn’t sure he’d ever get the metallic burnt smell out of these clothes, but he didn’t care; this had been fun, the kind of idle experimenting with explosives that he hadn’t had time to do in years.  Buggy hadn’t realized how much of a man’s free time it ate up, captaining even a smallish crew, until he’d gotten a fraction of that time back.

“Too bad we didn’t figure out a solution for your smoke bullet problem,” he said, dusting the last of the gunpowder off his shirt sleeves.

“Eh, I’ve been working on this on and off for months, it wasn’t gonna be an easy fix,” Yasopp said, shrugging his star-spangled cloak back on.  “But it got both of us out of our heads for a few hours, so I’d hardly call it a waste.”

Buggy blinked at him, frozen with one arm in his jacket.  “Both of us?”

“You were fretting, I don’t know what about.  Shanks, at a guess.  And I’m… not good at letting other people take on my responsibilities.”  Yasopp grimaced.  “Beck doesn’t always have to toss me out of the nest, but…”

Buggy frowned, sliding the jacket up his other arm.  “I wasn’t fretting.”

Yasopp gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sure.  And what kind of concealer do you use to hide the frown lines you must have, if you make that face every hour of the day?”  When Buggy scowled at him, Yasopp said, “I’m not a subtle man, remember?  If you want somebody to pretend to believe your lies, you’re looking at the wrong guy.”

Buggy sighed.  As Yasopp locked the workroom up behind them, he admitted, “It… was good to get out of my head for a while.”  Yasopp gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, and they left it at that.

Lunch was a bit less exciting than the past few days had led Buggy to expect: the fried rice with pickled cabbage and ham that had been served with Shanks’ breakfast was the main dish on offer, with other repurposed leftovers making up the rest of the meal.  When Roux wasn’t looking, Buggy gave him a curious look.  The rest of the crew had been on their best behavior, according to Beckman… so, had Lucky Roux been showing off?  If he had, it had worked on Buggy; he still wanted to poach Roux for his own crew, even if this less impressive offering was his usual fare.

Eating his bowl of rice with a couple promising-looking toppings—all well-spiced and delicious, of course—Buggy made his way out onto the main deck.  A few Red-Haired and Whitebeard Pirates glanced Buggy’s way, but most of them had gotten used to Buggy over the last few days and returned to their meals without paying him any mind.  He peered down at the lower deck, crowded with men in worn prison uniforms standing in surprisingly well-organized clusters of twos and fours, finishing their lunch.

“Afternoon, men!” he called.

“Captain Buggy!” they cheered.

“Let’s see,” Buggy said, and on a whim set aside his bowl to chop off his feet and swoop down, close enough to excite his men but just out of reach.  “Aren’t you arranged all nice and orderly?  It looks like you did as I asked.”

“Of course!”

“We’d do anything you asked, Captain Buggy!”

Buggy grinned.  Music to his ears.  “Then I suppose I should reward you, shouldn’t I?”  A few excited sounds rose from the crowd as Buggy returned to his spot on the deck above them.  “Hm… I’ve told you a few stories of the old days with Captain Roger, and a few more adventures of the great Captain Buggy’s crew.  But there’s someone I’ve yet to introduce you to, a captain who’s been allied with me and mine these last few months.”  Someone who might need some convincing to cooperate with the sudden appearance of all these guys… and who was more eager for praise than even Buggy.  “Let me tell you how the strong, beautiful Iron Mace Alvida saved my life.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking: the great Captain Buggy, in need of rescue?!”  The wide-eyed stares Buggy received confirmed this.  And by the look of it, some of the men were mentally tacking on the phrase by a woman? to that question, as he’d suspected they would.  Yeah, best to nip that potential problem in the bud.  “Well, I’d been through a terrible trial in the days leading up to our first meeting.  Separated from my crew, from my body, alone on a half-wrecked ship, starving, a vicious sea monster rising out of the waves before me, his many-toothed maw dripping with drool, eager to eat me—when suddenly!  A great iron mace came down on his skull!”  Buggy slammed his lunch bowl against the railing, the crash of metal on wood drawing the eye of every man below.

Buggy grinned.  If they hadn’t been hooked before, they sure were now.

He fudged some of the details, of course—no need to reveal exactly who had put him through that terrible trial, or how his crew had behaved in his absence.  But the broad strokes were true enough, and the changes he made were in support of his reason for telling the story: to convince these guys to respect Alvida, to flatter her as they did him, to make this joining of forces go as smoothly as possible.  Sure, it didn’t put Buggy in the best light, at least not at first, but he didn’t want Alvida taking a perceived slight out on a man who might be able to stand up to her mace.  If revealing one of his weaknesses was how he avoided that disaster, so be it.

He was just reaching the ‘rescuing his crew from cannibals’ climax of the story when a cry rang out from above: “Land ho!”

Finally.  The relief that rushed through Buggy nearly made him cry.  After all the many hells he’d been through since being arrested… things could finally start getting back to normal.

“We’ll continue this story after we disembark,” Buggy announced, to a few disappointed groans from his men.  “Find your buddy if you lost track of him during lunch!  Make sure you both have everything you’re taking with you!  Stay out of the way of the Red-Haired Pirates while they’re get us to shore, but be ready to leave the second we’re docked!”

“Aye, Captain!”

But of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

Buggy found Galdino sitting in the empty mess with Lucky Roux, making polite conversation over a pot of tea.  Though, with these two, it might not actually be the conversation it seemed to be—something about the island Roux sourced his tea from?  Apparently it was a distinctive blend, and hard to acquire.

“Did you need something, Buggy?” Galdino asked, an undertone of irritation to his voice.  Because of course Buggy needed something, why else did he ever seek Galdino out?

Well, if Galdino didn’t want to be used, he shouldn’t have made himself so useful.

“The dock’s gone,” Buggy said.  “Either rotted through or swept away in a storm.”

Galdino glanced up at him, and set down his teacup.  “Well, at least it’ll be a challenge.  Lucky Roux, it’s been a pleasure.”

“It’s sure been something, having you people aboard,” Roux said with a wide smile.  “Hopefully not for the last time.”

Buggy snorted.  “In your captain’s dreams.”

Galdino muffled a laugh in his fist; Roux didn’t bother concealing his amusement.  Buggy realized how his words had come off, scowled, and stormed out of the mess with a mutter of, “Come on, Galdino.”

The two of them joined Beckman and the Red-Haired Pirates’ navigator at the bow of the ship, and considered the space where a dock clearly used to be.  A ship this big, an island with such a sharp drop from shore to sea?  They wouldn’t be able to land without a dock. 

“Can you do it?” Beckman asked.

“I’ll need to begin from the shore,” Galdino said, thoughtful.  “If it isn’t well anchored from the start it’ll drift away.”

“That’s no problem.” Buggy chopped his feet off and leaned forward, letting Galdino sit cross-legged on his back.  He flew them to shore, where Galdino made some long wax spears that Buggy wedged into place.  When they were securely dug in, Galdino melted the tops of the spears and, starting from that spot, created more wax to mold into a floating dock.  Nothing that would be any good at anchoring a ship the size of the Red Force long-term, but they didn’t intend to be here any longer than necessary.  So long as it could hold firm while the men disembarked, that was all they needed.

While Galdino worked, Buggy hovered above the canopy, looking for any kind of promising location to settle his men.  He quickly spotted the ruins Beckman had mentioned—several of the old buildings were tall enough to be seen well above the treetops, the gray of the stone standing out against all the greenery of the jungle.  There was one with a large paved area around it, not far from the shore, which seemed promising.  Buggy took a moment to fix the spot in his memory, then went back to tell Galdino about it.

Galdino barely paid him any mind. He was focused on his work, and confident enough in it to stand on the dock as he was building it, a foot or two of wax all that separated him from the awful, helpless death that awaited any Devil Fruit user in the ocean.  It was bold of him; Buggy preferred a nice, reliable boat any day.

“Any messages to pass on to the men?” he asked, hovering at Galdino’s shoulder.

“They’ll need to be light on their feet, and should stick to the center of the dock,” Galdino said.  He was starting to sweat; extruding this much wax in one go must take a lot of effort.  “If their weight isn’t balanced right, one wrong move could capsize this whole thing.”

Buggy blanched.  Yeah, he could never.  “Noted,” he squeaked, and flew back to the Red Force to convey these instructions.

Despite Galdino’s warnings, the disembarkation went well.  Buggy watched with no small amount of pride as the buddy system worked beautifully, each pair of men walking down the gangplank, across the waxen dock, and onto the shore without any signs of a bottleneck developing.  Being listened to was nice—it was very nice—but being listened to, having your orders followed, and seeing them work exactly as you imagined, now that was heaven.  Buggy might not be the strongest pirate the world had ever seen, but damn it, he was good at this shit.

As the last dozen pairs prepared to leave the Red Force, Buggy felt a gentle weight press down on his foot.  He frowned, tried to remember where he’d left his feet, and only then noticed a presence on the main deck that made his hackles rise.

Shanks.

“Are you holding my feet hostage?”

“That depends,” Shanks said, giving Buggy an unreadable look.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Oh, this guy.  On his own ship, surrounded on all sides by his most trusted officers, and still managing to look like some kind of miserable wet cat, terrified of being left alone.

“And how was I supposed to say goodbye to someone who’s been hiding from me?” Buggy asked, instead of the dozen meaner things he wanted to say.

Shanks glanced away, suddenly awkward, and Buggy took the opportunity to look him over.  The shower had done him good, gotten him clean of all that secondhand makeup—though it had not, Buggy noticed with a quiet little thrill, removed the bruises that had apparently been hiding underneath some of that makeup.  His hair looked nicer, almost healthy, even pinned back by the sunglasses Shanks had propped up high on his forehead.  “Are these the shame glasses I’ve heard so much about?”

Shanks’ hand rose to fiddle with the temple of the glasses.  “Ah, yeah.”

“I thought your crew was supposed to laugh at you while you were wearing them?”

“They’ve been laughing at me, all day,” Shanks said, tired.  “And they’ve been right to, given… everything.”

Well, that was ominous.

With a sigh, Shanks said, “There’s something I should have told you earlier, Buggy, but there never seemed to be a good time, and… I didn’t know how to say it.”  A sheepish smile pulling at the corner of his lip, he said, “I still don’t, to be honest,” and pulled the sunglasses down over his eyes.

It took Buggy a moment to put it together.  Shanks’ discomfort, the way the large mirrored lenses took up so much space on his face, the nervous twist of his lips… then Shanks ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and it clicked.  All the blood draining out of his face, Buggy caught Beckman’s eye; he nodded, ever so slightly.

(Fuck.)

Buggy got up in Shanks’ face, looking past his own wide-eyed reflection to confirm that spark of recognition.  Shanks leaned back, Buggy reconnected to his own feet, and at this angle… yeah, he knew that face.  He’d kissed it, once.

(Oh fuck, he’d pickpocketed that guy, too.)

Fighting down a hysterical burst of laughter, Buggy said, voice high-pitched from the strain, “Well, uh, thanks for the ride, Shanks!  I’d say I owe you one, but I’m pretty sure you still owe me another two or three dozen favors before we’re even.”  He backed up, hands brushing along the railing as he inched towards the stairs, and beyond them the gangplank, the dock, the island, freedom.

(Somewhere he could have a little breakdown about this revelation in private.)

“Buggy…” Shanks cautiously held out a hand.

Buggy pulled back out of reach.  “I’m not saying goodbye to you, Shanks!” he snapped.  Shanks faltered, his hurt visible even past those ridiculous sunglasses, and Buggy sighed.  Did he have to spell it out?  “Stupid.  I already told you.”

Confusion wasn’t a much better look on Shanks.  Well, either he’d figure out or he wouldn’t.

Buggy rolled his eyes, spun around, and ran off.  Over his shoulder, he promised, “Until next time, Red-Hair!”

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 /  3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending

AN: First of all, thank you so much to those who left lovely comments and reblogged. I’m blown away by the support over a little idea I had, based on my own difficulties with the inpatient system. This is a series I’m really looking forward to, and still planning as I go? This second part is the last like, ‘scripted’ part, so I’m gonna have to actually light a fire under my arse and open up a dreaded planning doc lmao. Hope you enjoy this part!! also massive shoutout to @mantorokk-writes​ for putting up with my rambles and making me an amazing header image, you’re my beloved 💕

Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth​

Nothing ever changed in this place. Waking up to stare at the same four walls until your door was opened. Same four walls that you showered and brushed your teeth in. Same four walls that you spent the majority of the day in, following a bullshit routine that was supposed to promote ‘positive mental changes’ and ‘the tools for a successful future’. 

You were smart enough to know that it was all a load of bullshit. For the first six months of your committal, you believed in it. Practically bent over backwards to show the doctors that you were making progress, holding onto the slim chance that you might finally get the news of being released after the bi-annual panels that were akin to placing your heart on the scale. Balanced against the feather of your guilt, of the timeline of events that still haunted you every waking moment. It took you a year to realise the odds were stacked against you. Two years in, and you’d given up hope of ever walking back out the front doors. Two years of the same day, over and over, no end in sight. 

Even the earthquake that had rocked the town of Hawkins didn’t really change things. It had meant lockdown for a couple of days until damage could be assessed, and it had spurned a lot of orderlies, nurses and doctors bouncing for a better life in another city. Leaving only the ones that were most likely too stubborn to leave, now more bitter and jaded for having to keep the job that made their lives that little bit more miserable. With less staff, it had meant a closer eye on behaviour, lest the patients got any bright ideas and decided an uprising was sorely needed. Any infraction could get you put in the hole, no matter how small and stupid it seemed. You’d seen one of the old timers be taken away for a couple of days when they decided to steal a pen from the nurses station. You knew it was because they wanted to write down their thoughts before they forgot. But you also knew that the staff got jumpy when a patient had something capable of being made into an improvised weapon. 

The day had started just like any other. Your name being called out as the door to your room was unlocked, tone already weary of the shift ahead and none too gentle. An escort to the bathrooms to get washed up and ready for the day, government issued toothpaste bitter on your tongue and the smell of cheap soap lingering on your skin. Yet another escort to the day room, the doors slammed shut after the last patient passed the threshold. You were still barely awake when the tinny audio system kicked to life, the shrill voice of nurse Koehn calling everyone to line up in front of the glass window of the nurses’ station for medication. How you hated those paper cups with medication inside that you didn’t even know the names of and didn’t get a reply when you asked about, the shitty juice used to wash them down barely tolerable. It had become a Pavlovian response; each sip meant that little bit less freedom, a sluggish haze descending over you that made everything numb and fuzzy at the edges. But at least there were small victories, coming in the form of a pack of Marlboros as a reward for taking the fucking things without a fight. You tapped the pack against your palm as you made your way over to the table you usually sat at, taking one out and dangling the filter between your lips as you nodded your head towards an orderly for the use of a lighter. Because God forbid you were allowed to hold one for more than two seconds, lest you burn down the building. A thought that had admittedly crossed your mind once or twice. 

By mid afternoon, you were six cigarettes down and in the middle of a game of solitaire when the door to the day room opened, and you turned your head on instinct to see what was happening. Miller’s hand on the door as she corralled a man you hadn’t seen before into the room, closing the door behind him and leaving him to fend for himself. He looked scared shitless; eyes frantically darting around the room, his hands curled into fists so tightly that it made his knuckles turn alabaster. Wild and frizzy curls that tumbled past his shoulders, failing to hide the red and angry scars that marred his neck and face. A little lost lamb in the den of poorly concealed wolves, the sight pulling at your heartstrings that you swore had been crystallised a long time ago. You never really believed in ghosts, but it was as if you were looking at a spectre. A shell of a man, barely holding on by a thread. He was a reflection of you, when you’d first got here.

Gathering up the playing cards, you puffed out an air of nicotine as you shook your head. “Are you just going to stand there? You’re making the place look untidy,” you muttered, already dealing out two piles of cards before he realised you were talking to him. 

You glanced back over to him, his muscles tensed and a deer in the headlights expression staring back at you. It took a few heartbeats for him to catch on, and one glance back before his umber eyes settled on you again. “You talkin’ to me?” 

His words were softly spoken, a hoarseness to them that you’d heard from other patients who seldom uttered a word. A slight tremor to his cadence, that you easily picked up on. You nodded as you gestured your head to the wooden chair opposite you, leaning back in your seat as you studied your cards. “Staff get a bit jumpy if you stand by the doors too long. Suggest you find yourself somewhere to be that’s away from them.” 

The conversation seemed to hang in the balance; no doubt he was weighing up the pros and cons of talking to someone deemed a lunatic. You couldn’t blame him. A couple of residents here were like that. Would smile and make pleasant conversation, fooling you into thinking they were perfectly reasonable human beings. And perhaps they were. But you also knew their reason for being here, and one or two made you feel sick to your core. You heard the shuffling of rubber soles get closer, until he finally took a seat at the table. You kept your face neutral as you took another drag of your cigarette, settling the stick between pointer and middle finger. “You know how to play gin rummy?” 

You lifted your eyes as he picked up the cards, a look of confusion evident as his other hand scratched the back of his neck. “Haven’t played for a long time,” he admitted, the volume of his tone still not rising above the level of when he first spoke.

You shrugged as he made the first move, noticing the way his eyes darted towards the carton of cigarettes in the middle of the table. You set your hand down for a moment, picking up the pack and pulling one out. “Doesn’t matter about winning, what matters is looking like you’re occupied,” you explained, using the cherry of the lit cigarette to ignite the other. Dropping the fresh one into the ashtray, you pushed it slightly towards him in offering as you picked the cards back up. “Idle hands are the Devil’s tools and all that shit.” 

His body language seemed to change at your actions, eyes narrowed as they flickered from the ashtray to yours. It was a look of incredulity, if you were reading it right. You couldn’t blame him; if the roles were reversed, you’d think twice about accepting, just like he was. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, offering a slight smile that didn’t show teeth. “Because you seem to have your shit together for the most part, and I’m sick of trying to have conversations with lunatics.” Technically the truth. He didn’t have to know about your burning curiosity just yet, but the thought of having someone around your age who still had his faculties to talk to was an offer that you couldn’t refuse.

You were greeted with a slight eyebrow raise as he scratched at his scarred cheek, something that you could now assume was a tell that he was nervous. The fear still evident, yet a spark of something only just alight in his eyes. “Aren’t we both technically lunatics?” There it was. A ghost of a smile, a blink and you’d miss it moment. 

“Depends on who you listen to,” you offered with a slight grimace. “Some of us locked in here are innocent.” 

“Are you one of them?” 

Your stomach twisted at the ever so slight tone of disbelief you were sure you picked up on. How many times had you sworn on everything you ever loved that you never did what they accused you of, screamed your innocence at the top of your lungs to never be heard. It made that cage you kept your heart in that little bit stronger, the muscle decaying from lack of oxygen. “Depends who you ask.” 

His body language seemed to change in small increments, the small shifts only recognisable if you were really paying attention. To see them meant hope; how many times had you spoken to another patient, to be met with a blank stare and slackened jaw? Under the surface, no matter how deep it was, there was life. No doubt beaten down so intensely that he’d locked it away for self preservation. But it was there, all the same. Another ghost of a smile as he finally picked up the cigarette, taking a deep, sharp pull and his eyes slightly fluttering with the relief that nicotine could bring. “I’m asking you.” 

It felt like an impossible question. If answered truthfully, you could still be seen as a liar. He didn’t know you, hadn’t heard your side of the story, or even the story at all. All he had to go on was an offer of a cigarette, and an invitation to sit down. 

But what did you have to lose? 

“I am,” you finally murmured, bringing the cigarette filter to your lips to fill your lungs with smoke as acrid as you felt on the inside.

There was a nod of his head as he looked down towards the cards, letting the silence settle as you played a few turns. Both of you avoiding the subject as much as the situation allowed, neither one meeting the other’s gaze. But it was him to break it, a soft sigh just before his admission. 

“I’m innocent too.” 

So he wasn’t here voluntarily. The circumstances not being one of contemplating suicide, or having a nervous breakdown. An admission like that meant he was accused of something, just like you. Whether he was telling the truth or not, you had no idea. It was pushing your luck to ask for more, but you had nothing else to lose. “What did they say you did?” 

You saw his whole body tense again, as if the question was a bullet through the chest. His grip on the flimsy playing cards tightening, jabbing the remnants of tobacco into the ashtray with a little more force than needed. “Doesn’t matter.” His voice had got impossibly quiet again, an edge of frustration to it. He was guarded again, no doubt starting to get lost in the negative memories that you guessed crowded his head every waking moment. Maybe similar to the ones that crowded yours.

You exhaled deeply through your nose as you chipped your own cigarette out. “Just as a heads up, you don’t have to tell me now. But around here, secrets don’t stay secrets for long. They’ll ask you about what you did in group therapy.”

You heard his sharp exhale, noticing his eyes getting glassy with unshed tears. His fingernails scratched the scars on his neck, near frantic as he shook his head. Over your time here, you could see what this was. It was a panic attack, in its infancy but rapidly devolving. It twisted your gut to see, knowing that it was technically your fault. But why bother lying about it, when he’d find out himself in the next few hours?

“Haven’t seen you around before,” you said softly, mind working overtime to try and head whatever he was going through off at the pass. Distraction seemed to be what instinct was telling you to do. “You get admitted today?”

He shook his head, unruly curls swaying as he did. “No, I uh… It’s been four months, I think.”

Your eyebrow raised as you shuffled the cards in your hand, deciding to avoid eye contact to give him a little breathing room. “You get upgraded from minimum, or downgraded from supermax?” 

“It was uh… A downgrade, maybe? I haven’t seen much of the place.” 

You let out the incredulous laugh that bubbled in your chest, clicking your teeth with your tongue. “Must have friends in high places. Rumour is you don’t get out of there unless it’s either a miracle or a body bag.” 

There was a spark of something unreadable in his features, your best guess one of realisation. You didn’t have enough information, so you decided to ignore it for now. “Is it as bad as they say it is down there?” you asked, cocking your head to the side.

“Probably, don’t know what they say,” he answered with a slight shrug, his breathing slowing back down as he focused on the questions given to him.

“They say rats crawl over you when you’re sleeping, and the guards carry tasers.” 

You got a slight smile in reply as he shook his head, focusing on the cards that you’d both long forgotten about. Becoming something more like a prop to dissuade the conversation being interrupted. “Not true. It’s just… Suffocating down there.” 

“Well, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, but it’s not that much different here,” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Anybody tell you the routine of the day? Where you gotta be at what time?”

He shook his head slowly, and you let out a long exhale. Of course nobody told him. But he’d be expected to follow the rules all the same, getting punished for something that wasn’t his fault. So, you laid it out to him. The whole routine that was the backbone of your life, and would probably be so until you either left this world or the Earth stopped revolving. Wake up, get washed up for the day. Breakfast, then community meeting. Recreation time. Lunch. Group therapy. More free time, though the option to go outside was there if it was a nice day and the staff were in a gracious mood. Some other form of bullshit therapy, depending on the day. Dinner. If you were deemed trustworthy enough, some form of manual labour was assigned to you to help run the hospital, totally not because they couldn’t afford the staff to do it, that would be absurd. Being guided to the bathrooms to clean up from the day and sent to your designated room for lights out and lock up. By the time you finished explaining, you’d managed to get a winning hand of cards, tossing them on the table as you reached for your cigarette pack. “Still jazzed about getting downgraded?” you asked with a wry smirk, raising your hand and getting the attention of one of the orderlies for the lighter. 

“Trust me, it’s better than being down there,” he muttered, mindful to keep his voice low as the staff member approached. Now his hands were free of cards, you noticed how he fiddled with something on his left hand that wasn’t there, perhaps out of a learned behaviour that he’d had long before this place. You decided not to bring it up. It wasn’t your place. 

“Guess beggars can’t be choosers,” you shrugged, grabbing another cigarette and lighting it with the cherry again. This time you handed it to him yourself, held out like an olive branch. One that he seemed hesitant to take, eyes flitting from your hand to your eyes in quick succession. “Never caught your name.” 

The very tentative trust in a barely budding friendship, however small it was at that very moment, hung in the balance. It was likely that he’d either never had kindness before, or hadn’t in a very long time. It hurt to see, and it hurt even more to know that he was acting as a mirror. The last person who’d ever shown you mercy had long gone, and you were completely on your own. Trapped behind enemy lines, with no weapons to show for it. The only thing you could do was find allies wherever they may be, and pray to whoever was above you that they wouldn’t stab you in the back. 

His hand reached out, mindful not to make any skin to skin contact as he accepted the token, bringing it to chapped lips as his eye contact dropped to the scratches on the table. “It’s Eddie.” 

You nodded slowly as you mulled the name over, though nothing was coming back to you so far. You were pretty sure you’d have known of him if he was this distinct to look at back when you were out in the free world. Then again, you couldn’t remember much of that world at this point, so it was easy to lose background faces in a sea of other stronger, more horrific memories. You gave your own name in return, a small smile flickering over your features. “Guess you better get used to shitty card games and even shittier food, Eddie. Seems we’re in it for the long haul.” 

As much as you tried for it to come out as a joke, it didn’t seem to land. You could see him wince a little at your words, as if they burned his ears, or perhaps it was the truth of them that smouldered. It had been a long time since you’d had a conversation that wasn’t around pills or therapy plans, and it showed. You cleared your throat as you tried again. 

“I mean, if it helps, you’ll be stuck with me for a long ass time,” you said softly, trying to keep the tone light though the words stuck to your tongue. “You’ll probably be getting out far quicker than I will.”

His eyebrows came together, a crinkle between them as he gave you a slight expression of confusion. You could tell he was about to ask a question, mouth open and words forming on his tongue, but the buzz of the intercom being turned on made him jump out of his skin. It was a whole body reaction; tensed muscles and eyes darting about, no doubt an inbuilt mechanism formed from something in his past that let him survive something. You put a hand up slowly, a signal to wait a second, nodding your head towards the glass panel of the Nurses’ station as Sanford announced lunchtime. 

“That sound will happen a lot around here,” you mumbled as you stood up, finishing off the last deep drag of your cigarette and stubbing it out in one fluid motion. “You get used to it after a while.” 

When you noticed he wasn’t moving towards the doors as you stepped away, you turned back with a kind look, bowing your head a little to meet his lowered gaze. “C’mon, stick with me, alright? I’ll show you around.” 

For a moment, you remembered being told that your first day. You could almost hear your voice morph into that person’s, the one who showed you initial kindness, and could see yourself in Eddie. You were yet to believe if he was innocent or not. All you had was his word. But all he had was yours, too. Truth and lies were a currency in this domain, with blind trust that the more valuable would be exchanged. But, if you were honest, you felt the need to tell the truth more and more these days, the bitter taste of them on your tongue and threatening to swallow you whole. But truth needed to be given to those who earned it, and wouldn’t run off screaming to the nearest orderly that you’d finally gone mad. 

And you just hoped that with the arrival of another supposed innocent, those truths would finally be shared.

[androgynousblackbox]

How I Met Your Father. 10 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

A03 link

The big sand clock at the center of town marked just a few hours until the next extermination. After squeezing his family as strong as he could, hoping that somehow that could transmit all the emotions he couldn't put into words anymore without breaking, Lucifer passed through the portal directly to his palace forcing himself to not look back. When the portal closed off behind him, his living room suddenly felt too cold and empty despite the fire on the chimney.

“W-well, we got kicked out” said Lucifer to the piggy between his arms, forcing a note of humor.

He petted the small creature, trying not to think about his little girl commanding a group of bloodyhirtsty creatures against another group of bloodthirsty creatures with his bloodthirsty sinner of a husband as her back up. Or his fleshy body that very much could still be pierced by something that got too close to him and he didn't react in time, like his teeth in bed had been. Just seeing that wound on his shoulder briefly had been a sudden and unpleasant reminder that for all of his shadows, all of his magic and power, Alastor wasn’t indestructible no matter how much the man would want to believe it. The wildly different context in which that injury had happened was of little comfort.

They had talked a bit about their tactics, the strategy that they would use and it sounded solid enough for him to cling to hope that everything would be alright, but the bad thing about living for so long was knowing already that even the most solid plan on the universe could fail. Something unexpected could always happen to wreck everything. He would know it better than anyone. And his only option was staying put at home while everyone else was dealing with the forces of Heaven.

It was enough to make a boulder out of his stomach until it felt like his guts were going to spill. Why did he have to eat two servings of waffles? That was so fucking stupid of him.

“So!” said to the piggy, lifting him up in the air. Fat Nuggets just blinked at him, carefree and curious, not a single thought dedicated to what his owner could be going through or if he was going to ever see him again. For this piggy only now was all that it counted. It only mattered that he wasn't in pain right now. What a lucky one. “Since we are going to be stuck here for now, how about we play a little bit on the garden? There is a lot of flowers there that you can eat if you want!"

Fat Nuggets moved his pointy tail, tilting his head. Lucifer decided to assume that it was an affirmative response and he nodded to himself, somehow managing a small smile. As he carried the creature to the garden, Lucifer looked up to the sky. From there he should still be able to see the portal open up for the exorcists, plus the timer for the rest of his ring.

At that moment there was nothing to see. Sinners could still walk on the streets only concerning themselves with the usual problems of hell. They could keep going with their normal lives if so they wanted to. People would only start running to hide or scream closer to the final hour. Lucifer had see it so many times before, usually having a cup of tea in front of Alastor reading a book or listening to whatever music he felt in the mood for. It wasn't different than any other day of acid rain. When Charlie was too small to even know what was happening, Alastor would create shadow puppet shows to entertain her while Lucifer improvised background music. They didn't had to worry about anyone they cared about being caught outside and at risk. Their family was there and that was the only thing that mattered.

Now he was all alone and he could only wait.

"Play!" said outloud to no one, snapping himself out of that spiral of thoughts.

Oh, he knew that spiral too damn well, but he wasn't going to fall into it! Not today! If he ended up being required, then his daughter would need him sharp and ready for action. If she didn't, then all those dark thoughts would mean anything anyway.

Fat Nuggets looked at him in confusion and he realized he haven't given anything for the pig to play yet.

"Oh, right" He quickly made a bouncy ball in one hand and throw it to the garden. "Go, little guy, go! I will give you snacks if you do!"

The word snack seemed to be the magic one to stir up the piggy, running off towards the direction the ball went through to jump at a bush. Lucifer chuckled to himself when he came close and saw him munching on some flower he found, momentarely distracted. Lucifer looked up again to the huge clock again. Before the feeling of dread could set in at the back of his throat, he snapped a picture of Fat Nuggets because he was cute and he would damn if he wasn't going to take advantage of that when he could.

"Come on, you can't be satisfied with just that" said Lucifer, making the bouncy ball come back floating to him to show it. "Get this back to me and I promise something a lot more delicious just for you, alright?"

When he threw it again, Fat Nugget made sure to grab a big bite out of the demonic flower and eat it as he ran his short chubby legs to his new objective. Lucifer took more pictures, absolutely refusing to look up again and just stare at the screen.

The screen that he had forgotten had a slighty glitched picture of Alastor carrying a toddler Charlie over his shoulders. Alastor didn't even realized he was taking the picture, too focused on following Charlie's directions as she drove him by the antlers, both of them laughing. Lucifer's finger brushed against his wedding ring, taking a deep breath in. He had to believe they were going to be okay. He had to.

When Fat Nugget came back, the toy on his mouth, Lucifer smiled more sincerely to the creature. It had been a good idea to bring him, really. He would have to thank Angel Dust for it later. For the moment, he managed to distract himself creating some truffles to reward the little creature.

"But only one, you hear? Bring it to me again if you want more" said, throwing the ball towards the fountain zone that was paved. The little feet of the pig made quick short sounds over the stone as he moved towards the moving waters. "Oh, thirsty now?" Lucifer chuckled, making appear a elegant golden bowl and dunking it on the fountain before leaving it on the floor for him.

"I had to make it safe to drink, you know?" commented Lucifer, resting his cheek on his hand. "With a kid running around that wants to get everything into her mouth, I had no choice. You could try to get inside and the fountain itself will take you out before you could even think of drowning. Pretty smart spell, if I do say so myself." He made a face at remembering that still meant that Charlie would get herself on the fountain every chance she had, only to be taken out over and over again, requiring to change her clothing quickly or get a cold each time. To her it was fun. For them it was handling a drenched princess who wanted to keep playing. Alastor eventually forbide her to come closer to it and use his tentacles to distract Charlie if he ever caught her. Lucifer thought he looked so hot then. He groaned at realizing that train of thought was not going to help. That wasn't a good distraction, brain! "Fuck, why does everything have to be about them."

Fat Nuggets sniffed the bowl a moment, but soon must have find it suitable for his piggy standards because he lifting himself up on his back legs to drink with his front one on the border. Lucifer took another picture and lifted his head, but kept his eyes closed. No, he wasn't going to keep track of the time. No, sir, not him.

One quick look.

One hour now.

Lucifer swallowed hard.

"You do look a bit dirty" commented to the piggie. Some traces of dirt could be seen after him. "How you feel about a little bath?"

Fat Nugget stopped drinking just enough to give him the universal puppy look of I don't know what you are saying, but you are looking at me and I am happier for it. Lucifer cooed, petting his head before picking him up. This time he didn't turn around as he went back to the palace.

By the time he was drying up a freshly clean demon piggie with a towell, the familiar golden shackles appeared on his wrists. Lucifer was not surprised by them, not anymore, and sighed rubbing at his wedding ring with his other hand. They didn't weight anything at all, but what they meant was too heavy.

It meant that the extermination had already started.

--

Alastor looked down at the battlefield from the rooftop. The portal above their heads had already open and the exorcist were coming in. Most of their attention was concentrated on the front. Naturally, since that is where their targets were. They did not care for him.

"Let's fuck them up!" was the battle cry of Charlie, shield in hand, and he so wished that Lucifer could see her.

Their little fawn off to blast her enemies with sparkly explosion that spread them further to be attacked by someone else. She could be lacking on ferocity, but was compensating plenty by presenting a brave smile as her brave front.

He had to admit, though, the impulse of going there directly to act as another shield was rather strong. But they both agree that his role would have to be another. Every overlord or general knew that the best way to dismantle an army was to separate them and only then destroy them. The moment he stomped his cane in the ground and called out his magic to envelop the hotel, Alastor took out his silver pocket watch.

When Adam finally managed to pass through, Alastor counted 2 minutes and 45 seconds. If everything both Lucifer and Charlie said wasn't enough to convince him that the first man was an idiot, that would have done it.

"Not the brightest lightbulb on the chandelier, huh?" commented casually, going to the encounter of the winged self acclaimed dickmaster, as Charlie had called him once.

"Uh, excuse you? Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"

"Alastor Morningstar, my good man. A pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!"

It was the first time ever that he presented himself with his actual legal name, rather than the last name he had made himself in hell, ever since he married. He never had a reason to do that before, but somehow it felt appropriate. That annoying tiny drone floating around the hotel could zoom in all it wanted, it wouldn't be able to pick the sound of his words anyway. The spell that Lucifer had cast all over the area after finding out about the attempted espionage would take care of that.

Adam's mask stared at him as realization hit him, before bursting into laughter.

"No fucking way! No fucking way you are the sinner Lucifer got hitched with!" Adam flew over the sign of the hotel, looking down with an amused smirk. "So you are half of the reason why that abomination won't stop being a pain in the ass? He must have gotten pretty desperate if you are the best he could get."

"Said the man who couldn't keep his wife even as he was literally the only other speaking creature on earth" said Alastor, grin growing wider. "At least my daughter hasn't tried to kill her own siblings yet. One must wonder how much the parents have to fail for something like that to happen, don't you think?"

He ignored the part about Charlie not having any siblings to potentially kill or not. Adam did not even think to bring it up.

"Oh, I see. You went to Sunday school once and now think you can be funny?" Despite his mocking words, Alastor didn't miss the way the hands of the first man gripped his weapon. "You think you are so tough just because you suck cock? Chicks do that all the time, dude, ain't nothing especial."

"On the contraire, I do a lot more than that" Alastor let his pocket watch hang from its chain and lifted it. There was a time in which jokes like those would be enough to shock him, but not anymore. "In exchange, my Lucifer does certain things for me. That is what marriage is. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that."

"Gross, man" Adam made a face before he noticed the pocket watch and his eyebrows came together slowly, recognizing its shine. That perfect impeccable shine that no other steel could quite replicate the same. "Wait, what the fuck is that? Are you planning to hit me with it?" added, starting to laugh again.

In all honesty he wasn't planning to use any weapons but himself and his magic if he could help it, but these were the kind of things that one does for love, wasn't it? Just carry around a little extra protection for the peace of mind of his husband was hardly a big sacrifice. It finally had come the time to put it to good use. Alastor now could smirk back, bringing the watch to his lips to brush it on top.

"Not hit. Maim" clarified, pushing the watch to have it swing on the air as he conjured up his staff.

When the chain wrapped around it, covering from the mic grip to the bottom like a loyal snake, Adam had lost his patience already and moved up his weapon. Alastor easily avoid it sliding to a side. When the first man redirected his guitar/axe to cut him again, Alastor caught it on the new chain that had materialized on his hand, alongside with two new daggers.

The hands of the clock were black, pointy and long, similar to the knives that he would weild something during his hunts when he was alive. Lucifer had said he thought it would be nostalgic for him, on top of a weapon he was familiarized with, and he wasn't wrong. He let the briefest of sigh at realizing that despite his mic now standing out at the end of each grip, the power within was still intact. They were still transmitting through the silver chain that connected them.

"Is that supposed to be cute?" Adam spat, taking a step back to aim again and again.

Each time Alastor was managing to slip pass them edge like it was costing him nothing. Meanwhile Adam was struggling to keep up. His movement were becoming slower, clumsier. Years sending off a bunch of silver birds to do the dirty work while he sat back and got all the credit. When he threw the first dagger, the chain seeming to dance in the air before he pulled again, a clean cut appeared across the A on Adam's chest. Adam stopped all for a second to stare at the thin injury, similar to how a long papercut would be. Just a bit of golden blood could be seen.

Alastor licked the portion that he had brought with him and immediately regretted it. It wasn't at all the strong, envigorating and delicious flavor of his husband. This was crude and smoky, like someone had wrapped a pack of cigarretes in raw meat, light it on fire and then served it on the driest bun they could find. Maybe it could be acceptable for a fast food restaurant, but after knowing what a gourmet meal was like this was only the more offensive for his taste buds. He would have to ask Lucifer to give him a palatte cleanser later.

"Did you just tasted my fucking blood right now?" Adam sounded genuinely surprised as well as disgusted. They truly did not prepared them at all for what they could see in hell. "The fuck is wrong with you."

"Don't worry, I don't plan to do that again" Alastor spit on the side, but the aftertaste was still there. "You taste awful raw. Maybe some cooking could help?"

"First you have to get a grab, creep!" Alastor laughed as he danced around the rooftop as the first man chased him.

When Adam made a particularly bad move, he pulled on the chains to make a new cut. None of them were lethal and they weren't supposed to be. They were supposed to be annoying and constant, to keep Adam busy on him and not even think about anyone else until he could find an opening for the final blow. It was almost embarassing how riled up he got. When Adam failed to catch the chain, breathlessly, he glared at Alastor as the radio demon fixed up his spotless suit.

"You think you are better than me, you fucking freak?" Adam spat, lifting up on his wings to put more distance on them. The sleeves of his robe were cut and stained as he send wave after wave of his power. "You have no idea of who I am!"

"Oh, but I know" sighed Alastor, as if they were sharing just the most delightful time catching up over tea. One of his tentacles was holding the shield that before had been the the body of his pocket watch, catching most of it and redirecting it easily without him having to do anything. Lucifer had outdone himself. "I know that I am better than you. Better husband. Better father. And for what I can only imagine" he chuckled, "better lover too, probably. Wait, is that why Eve left you?"

Now he could understand better why Angel used sex jokes so much. They were a quick and effective way to get people off balance, another weapon to keep control while others lose it. In men such as Adam, being the punchline of such jokes was a blow worse than any of their weapons could deliver. He could almost smell the bruised ego as the first man raised his guitar.

"I am going to fucking end you!"

Alastor could only see a flash of golden light before the floor crumbled under his feet. The hotel was being split on half. It took both an eternity and a second for his tentacles to catch him barely before his back hit the floor of the lobby, taking his breath away. His vision was blurry, not helped by the dust and the debris still falling around him, but soon could distinguish Adam floating above.

"Not so chatty now, eh, bitch?"

Alastor opened up his mouth, but was surprised when a bunch of his blood came out, so much that it made him cough. He lifted a hand to put over his neck and saw it come back drenched in red. His shield was still over his chest. It had done its job perfectly, keeping the body parts covered completely safe after such an attach. The issue had been that he didn't lift it enough on time. If it wasn't for the shield his body would have been cut in half already.

"Oh, what is that, buddy?" Adam smiled at the glare he recieved from the sinner. "Not used to have your throat occupied? Lucifer is the one who does that?"

"Fffuck you" managed to say, forcing himself to sit up as he called his shadows. Every word was a fight against his own body, almost as painful as the conscious effort of keeping his smile on. "You are a dead man walking… and don't know it yet."

"Oooh, the old timey fuck bleeding out swore at me! I am so scared!" Adam dedicated him two middle fingers, crossing his arms over his chest. "Suck it, whore! Go cry to Lucifer like the bitch you are. And when you do, tell him his unnatural mistake is next!"

"You must have… the smallest dick" said Alastor before he faded. Was it the more dignified way to get out of battle? Not at all. If anyone tried to tell him he said that, he would deny it given the chance. But it was worth it to see Adam getting furious again, whatever answer he had getting drown out when he was taken away.

"For your information, my dick is longer and thicker than anything you have seen in your fucking life!" screamed Adam still to the black stain on the ground right until it dissapeared entirely. "Jeez, what an asshole."

"DAD!"

Charlie entered the destroying hotel through the open entrance. She had only managed to see Alastor before he dissapeared and the blood around his mouth was enough reason to alarm her, even if she couldn't see nothing else. Her black eyes glared at Adam as her antler rised from her head, like skeleton hands reaching for the red sky. She pointed at him with a golden trident.

"What did you do?! Where is he?!" She took a breath, looking around with eyes wide in panic. A shadow, a small tentacle, anything that was part of him, just as she was trying not to lose sight of the first man. "Dad, are you around!?"

Adam grinned.

"That is going to be the last of your worries, girly."

--

"And this one is Captain Quaker" explained Lucifer, showing off the duckie with the sailor outfit to Fat Nugget. The piggie was comfortably laid down on a pillow over his desk, following all his movements. Lucifer had created a little duck onesie for him after his bath, so he would look extra adorable as he saw the king of hell going over his dearest creations. "He is a loyal and adventuruous duck that has travelled across all seven seas. There is no water body he hasn't dominated completely with his sheer optimism and good will. Other duckies are happy to come back to land, but not this captain! He is the most comfortable when he is on the water, ready to face whatever comes his way!"

He made the duckie swim on the air, creating an illusion of moving waves underneat with his other hand. The waves sparkled with rainbow shine as bubbles elevated in the air, as if were bubbles. Originally the whole point of Captain Quaker was to make bath fun for Charlie, but somewhere along the way he got invested in the acuatic adventures.

"What do you think Captain Quaker should do today?" asked, making appear an island of duck-sirens dancing on one side of him and a treasure map floating in the air. "We could maybe help out the nice duck-sirens to find their missing pearly brush or go look for a treasure that no other duckie has ever found! Which one do you think?" Lucifer gave some time for the piggie to react to. When Fat Nugget instead just stared at him tilting his head, he giggled. "Okay, duck-sirens it is then!"

He was about to set up his story when something happened with the golden shackles. For a moment they glitched out, just one time, before dissapearing entirely. It took him a second to understand what that represented.

"Charlie? Charlie!" yelled, running to the hallway. "Hey, whoever is listening, take care of the little pig while I am gone. If anything happens to him, I will kill everyone in this palace!" He quickly came back to the office to kiss the face of Fat Nugget. "I gotta go with my little girl!"

He opened up a portal, flying out. When he reached the hotel… or whatever was left of it, he detected the magic of Charlie on the lobby. He didn't saw all the other sinners fighting around or the bombs going on. Only Adam elevated in the air as he was grabbing Charlie by the neck. Charlie saw him by the corner of her eye before his fist made contact with the first man and then grab onto him when Lucifer catched her, coughing.

"It's okay, sweetie. I am here now" said, descending to the floor, away from the most dangerous looking debris. He didn't expected much, but it was still a bit dissapointing that none of their defenses was worth much in the end. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No" said Charlie, looking up with teary eyes. "Papa, I-I don't know where dad went."

"Don't worry about that, baby" Lucifer landed on an open area, letting her to get on her feet, and showed her his wedding ring with a smile. "Until death or divorce do us part, remember? He must be trying to heal himself up somewhere if he is not here. Was it too bad?"

"I don't know, I couldn't see it" Charlie sounded almost apologetic.

Lucifer rubbed her shoulder.

"He can take care of himself, honey."

Charlie nodded her head. She saw something above her father and reached in front with her hand, catching flawlessly the fist of Adam that tried to return the favor. Lucifer blinked at seeing it wasn't her normal hand, but rather a enlarged and more dangerous looking one covered in green magic. He had no idea that Charlie could do that. When his duckling let out a growl, he took a step back and ducked his head as Charlie easily spun Adam around to slam him against the floor. The impact of the hit created a crater that moved dirt and rock in the air.

"Wow" commented Lucifer, smiling to his daughter. "Honey, that was amazing."

"Huh?" Charlie flicker her eyes to him and then blushed, staring at her now normal hand. "Oh, this? Ppff, this is nothing, I… kinda didn't know I could do that either."

"Cool!" said Lucifer, patting her back. "Your magic is evolving, sweetie! I am so proud of you."

"For fuck's sake!" yelled Adam. His breathing came out jagged and heavy as he rised up from the hole. "Are you really doing this stupid bullshit now?" He gasped. "We are in the middle of the fucking battle and you are all oh I love you, daddy, now? I hate all you Morningstars, I swear. Bunch of lame ass bitches."

"Do you want to take him?" asked Lucifer, ignoring him.

"I… I don't know if I could do that again" admitted Charlie in a low voice, only for him to hear.

"That is okay, sweetie" Lucifer rolled up his sleeves as he got in front of his daughter, walking towards him. "I will do it then. Hey, Adam."

"What" The first man sneered at him.

Lucifer smiled wickedly as he pulled out his wings.

"Eve said you sucked in bed."

When Adam launched himself to him, Lucifer fly off with a joyious laughter. Between the previous battle and all the exercise he wasn't used to, his movement were too slow for Lucifer to have any issue keep him attacking away from his daughter. Adam wasn't stupid enough to not realize that and that only made him all the angrier. The king of hell couldn't have been slippier if he was covered in oil. Everytime he thought he could get his hands on him, he moved again. Lucifer was too obvious about playing with him.

"Stay still… and take it like your red bitch did!" finally yelled Adam. Lucifer stopped laughing and he took that as a sign of victory. He only perked up when Lucifer turned around. As a man who never had to fear death in eons, he rather easily could ignore the literal pair of glowing red flags staring at him. "Yeah, that is right! I knocked that stupid sinner down like it was nothing! What are you going to do about it, eh, tiny prick?"

Out of everything he said, that last insult was the drop that destroyed the glass and the table underneath. Lucifer's fist came faster than he could fully finish his sentence and it was back to the ground with him. At opening his eyes, he realized his mask had been shattered and falling in pieces from his face.

"Don't you dare to talk about him" warned Lucifer, floating above him in his full demon form. Fires was coming out from the sides of his mouth and with each word, accompanying his punches. With every hit, his smile only became sharper and his laughter more unhinged. "You come to my house, mess with my daughter and now try to talk shit about my husband? Let me remind why the call me the king, bitch!"

Charlie finally managed to catch up to them. She saw Lucifer lifting up both his arm above his head to conjure up a ball of fire and she slipped on the side of the crater.

"Papa, stop!" called, stumbling her way to them. Lucifer stopped before she could reach his shoulder, looking at his hands. "Papa, I think that is enough…" she started until she noticed that something was off. It took her a moment to fully realize what had Lucifer so fixated, specifically on his right hand. The golden ring that had been a fixed feature of his father, no matter what form he took, was gone. "N-no…"

"Charlie" said Lucifer with so empty and cold that made her shiver. "Look for Vaggie and stay with her. Do me a favor and don't look up."

"Papa…" Charlie didn't want to leave him alone, but it took a literal second for Lucifer to snap his fingers and make a portal appear right his daughter. The portal drop her near Vaggie, coming bruised up out the ruins of the lobby after her own fight and with her wings already out.

"Charlie!" Vaggie called, flying off to her to hold. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Uh…" Charlie couldn't form any words, couldn't think, couldn't move anywhere.

Her whole body felt alien to her. Vaggie gently put her hands on her shoulders and Charlie shivered, looking at her as if she didn't recognize her.

"Hon, you are in shock" said softly, giving her a reaffirming squeeze. She looked over the princess and was somewhat relieved that at least she wasn't mortally wounded. This was something else. "Just try to breath, okay? Concentrate on the sound of my voice. I got you" Vaggie hold her face, making the princess to hold her gaze. "I am here. You are safe as long I am here. It's okay. Can you tell me what happened?"

"D-dad…" was the only thing that would come out of her before her knees gave up.

The tears wouldn't stop coming not even when she heard a growl that shook the earth under their feet. She knew what it was. How could she not recognize the voice of her father, even when it was with an emotion she never heard before? She curled up on herself as she also gave in to her own sob. Vaggie kneeled with her and hugged her tight, extending her wings around the two of them as everyone else kept fighting.

She did as her father told her to and didn't look up, not even when the screams started. The cannibals celebrated when the sky was filled with angelic blood and bodies dropping one after another, ripped apart, heads flying separated from their necks, no angelic steel required when it was the hands of an angel doing the work. Faster than any of them could have believed possible, only one exorcist remained and she had managed to escape from the debris to see the first man. What was left of him at least.

A recognizable flapping of wings announced the presence of Lucifer. When Lute looked up, she almost wished she didn't. It felt wrong to stare at the face of the devil while tears streaked his cheeks and his eyes were filled with nothing but contempt, completely drenched on the blood of the other angels. Wrong like only something that went against all plans still happened and there was no consequences for it could feel like. Wrong like being abandoned in the middle of a game whose rules she didn't know anymore.

"You were the only who call out his name. Did you cared about him?" asked Lucifer. Drips of blood were still falling from his claws, from his suit. His tears were the only clearing besides the gold all over his face. "Answer me" ordered, his growl making her to straighten up instantly, damn her military training.

"Yes, s… yes" said, incapable of holding his burning gaze.

"Good" Lucifer grabbed the halo near the head of Adam, a silver piece that didn't shine no more, and throw it like a piece of garbage against her to catch with her only arm. "Then you get to live. You get to live knowing you couldn't do anything to save him. Tell heaven this is the price for one sinner. Now go."

Lute didn't had to be told twice. She gripped to the halo on her hand and made the solitary journey up to the portal.

Lucifer stayed in place, like a statue left in the middle of the sea.

"Papa…" the voice of Charlie, ever so soft, was the only thing capable of making him turn. To him she looked just as small as a little girl as her eyes swelled up again. "Papa!"

He opened up his arms to receive her when she came running, hugging him clumsy and desperate despite the blood that now was all over her too. Lucifer knew that he should be the one giving words of comfort, that it was his responsability now, but all he could do was hold onto her back and cry like he too had been abandoned.

--

When Alastor opened up his eys just the tiniest bit, he knew instantly it was way too bright for him and covered up with his hands. Why the hell was he even on his feet? The last thing he remembered was somehow managing to get to his old studio where he reserved a portion of Lucifer's blood for emergencies.

He would get drink it, effects be damned, and go back to the battle in no time. But then he got too dizzy to keep standing up and his body felt too tired to stand up from the floor, no matter how much he was ordering his arms or legs to do anything.

The next second he was… where? A hospital? It had to be a good one because he couldn't feel any immediate pain. He opened again, finding immediately the face greyish face of someone that was standing too close for comfort, as if trying to make sure that he was real.

Oh, he had to have been drugged with something, for sure. Something so good that took away all the pain and was making him have hallucinations as a side effect. How else could be explained that he was seeing this person with an halo over their head and white wings?

When he gave a step back, he touched a wall and finally could realize that this place looked more like an meeting room than any hospital he could think off. A too brightly coloured meeting room. Behind the person that was looking at him, another one was standing from the table, but this one looked more horrified than anything else. Another set of wings, another halo.

"Where is this?" asked, realizing that it didn't cost him at all to speak.

He took his hand to his neck and it was intact. No bandages, no scarring, nothing. Far from making him relax, that enerved him even more. The younger looking person in front of him squealed.

"Welcome to heaven!"

Alastor stared at her. Maybe she was drugged too, wondered hopefully, even knowing that he wasn't high and instead was way too alert to deal with any of this.

"Come again?"

"Heaven! You came from hell, don't you? But now you made it here, congratulations! Oh, this is so amazing, I knew that Charlie was right! Isn't it great, Sera?"

The older looking person, apparently called Sera, let herself fall back on her chair as if to let all the horror she was contemplating wash over her. The younger one, not at all detered by this, smiled big at Alastor, whose only comfort was to think this had to be a nightmare. Only his mind would be so cruel to bring out the name of his daughter on this context and make it feel so real.

"You must have done a lot of soul searching and good deeds in order to be here now! You have to tell me all about it whenever you have a chance, I am dying to know! Oh, wait, no, I am so rude. My name is Emily, by the way! And yours?"

Alastor looked at her extended hand just in time as his found the handle behind him. He opened up the door and came out, running away from all this nonsense.

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 15

summary: the tension...is palpable. but maybe a breakthrough?

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: TWO IN ONE WEEK! I love seeing everyone's responses to this story! it's so fun to write, and it's definitely heating up. let me know what you think!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________________________________

The sterile air of the training room hummed with a tension that felt almost palpable. Bucky stood, arms crossed, in front of a giant digital screen displaying a complex urban environment. Charlotte, her focus intense, studied the map that sprawled before her. It had only been two days since the attack on the compound, and though she’d been released to sleep in her own bed the first night, she wasn’t cleared for combat training until her broken ribs had healed and the stitches had been removed from her leg. She’d opted to return to lessons with Bucky almost immediately, despite their spat in the medical wing. Her desire to avoid being alone with her thoughts was stronger than her desire to avoid him. 

He wore his normal daily attire: tactical pants and combat boots, a snug black shirt hugging his chest. Charlotte wore almost identical garb, with loose cargo pants the most comfortable to wear over the bandaging on her leg. 

"Okay," Bucky began, his voice steady, "you have your objective. Hostage situation, downtown area, high civilian presence. Minimal casualties, maximum stealth. Your move."

Charlotte paused for a moment before pointing to a section of the map, tracing a potential entry route. "Rooftop entry here. We can use the neighboring building as a vantage point."

Bucky shook his head. "Too exposed. Snipers could easily pin you down. Next."

She bit her lip, her frustration growing, then suggested, "What about a distraction? Create a diversion on the opposite block to draw them out."

"And risk civilian casualties? Not an option. Think, Charlotte."

She took a deep breath, regrouping, before offering another handful of potential ways to diffuse the situation. With each suggestion shot down, Charlotte's strategies grew more audacious, her patience thinning. As her ideas got sloppier, Bucky’s feedback got more critical. 

“You do that and you might as well just surrender now. They’d see you coming a mile away and have all their forces ready to ambush you. Are you prepared to send your whole team into a blatant trap? You’re not even thinking this through.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

Finally, she snapped. "What do you want from me, Bucky? To pull some genius plan out of thin air? You're not giving me anything to work with!"

Bucky, unyielding, leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. "I want you to think. Real situations won't give you 'anything to work with' either. You need to adapt, improvise, and most importantly, keep those hostages and your team safe."

Charlotte's eyes blazed. "You think I don't know that? You're acting like I'm some rookie who's never faced a real threat!"

“Last time I checked, you are a rookie. When was the last mission you came on?” Bucky's tone hardened. "I'm trying to prepare you for situations where there might not be a clear right answer. You think I don't see your potential? I do. But potential's not enough when the lives of people you care about are on the line. You need to be strategic, not just brave. If you run into an escalated situation with nothing but ‘kick ass’ in your arsenal, you’re going to get yourself killed."

The air between them crackled with tension as Charlotte threw her hands in the air. "Oh, so now you're the world’s leading expert on nonviolent negotiations? Last time I checked, only one of us  has ‘World’s Deadliest’ on our resume and it isn’t me.” She didn’t shy away, getting even closer to his face. “Tell me how much strategy came into play then, Soldat."

The words hung heavy, a low blow that cut incredibly deep. Bucky's face tightened, a flicker of old pain in his eyes as he set his jaw. If looks could kill, she had a feeling she’d have already taken her last breath. Instead of the verbal lashing she expected, he took a slow breath before stepping back.

"That's not fair, Charlotte, and you know it," he replied, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the tension.

Charlotte, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and regret, met his gaze. The room felt smaller, the air thicker.

"I—" She began, then stopped. What was she doing? This was Bucky, who'd risked everything, who'd been through hell and back. And here she was, using his past against him. "I'm sorry," she said, the words feeling inadequate. "That was out of line."

But Bucky's demeanor had already shifted. He looked at her, his gaze piercing, and for a moment, Charlotte thought she saw a flicker of something more—anger, betrayal, perhaps even hurt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, shuttered behind the steel walls he was so adept at erecting.

"Yeah," Bucky finally said, his voice cold and distant. "It was."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed in the large room, each step thundering through her. Charlotte watched him go, her heart sinking. She wanted to call out, to apologize again, to explain that her words had come from a place of frustration and fear, not malice. But the words stuck in her throat, tangled up with her pride and the lingering sting of their argument.

As the door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone in the silence of the training room, a mix of emotions roiled within her. Guilt for having crossed a line, anger at Bucky for being so impossibly difficult to work with, and beneath it all, a gnawing fear that she had just irreparably damaged whatever fragile connection they had been building. 

She sank down onto a nearby bench, her injured leg protesting the sudden movement. The physical pain was nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside her. She had wanted to prove herself, to show Bucky—and maybe, more importantly, herself—that she was capable, that she wasn't the weak link. Instead, she had let her temper get the best of her, lashing out in the worst possible way. The worst part? She really was trying. All of her suggestions, at least the early ones, were instinctive. Had she been in the heat of a mission, thinking on the spot, she would have acted on them. Acted on them and gotten people killed, as Bucky was so keen on reminding her. Goddamn him, this was difficult for her. She didn’t come from a military background before her capture by HYDRA, and she didn’t have years with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes honing her skills. She knew how to fight, how to survive, as she’d proven time and time again. Yet, all he seemed to be able to see was where she fell short. Brute strength and violence had gotten him through some of the worst horrors known to man, and here he was, telling her that wouldn’t be enough. Well, it would have to be. That was all she had. 

The room felt oppressively large now, the echoes of their argument bouncing off the walls, a reminder of how quickly things had spiraled out of control, as they always seemed to do. Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

______

The night air was crisp, and the lake below was a reflection of the starlit sky as Charlotte stood alone on the balcony, wrapped in her thoughts and an oversized sweatshirt. The events of the day had left her raw, her emotions a tangle of frustration, guilt, and an indefinable ache that seemed to pulse with the night. She’d avoided the common room until she knew Bucky would be in training with the SHIELD agents, then shut herself in her room until after dinner, leaving only to get herself the plate of food she knew Natasha had left in the fridge for her. After another failed attempt to sleep, she’d awoken in a cold sweat and found her way out to the balcony. 

Behind her, the sliding door whispered open, and she stiffened, half-expecting another attack. But when she whirled around, already setting her feet in a defensive posture, it was to find Bucky standing there with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. The panic must have shown on her face because he raised the mugs candidly, showing the peace offering. 

"Vanilla, extra cream," he said, extending one of the cups towards her. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle after their harsh words earlier, that Charlotte found herself momentarily lost for words. She couldn’t remember ever telling him how she took her coffee, and yet here it was, smelling perfectly sweet and familiar.

She took the cup, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. "Bucky, I—I need to apologize. For earlier. I was so out of line," she started, but Bucky shook his head, cutting her off.

"No," he said firmly, "I pushed you too hard. I haven't been fair to you, haven't given you the credit you deserve." He leaned on the balcony railing, his gaze distant, reflective. "You saved the compound, Charlotte. While we were off chasing ghosts, you...you showed you have what it takes. In the heat of the moment, you did what you had to, and you saved lives." He tilted his head to meet her eyes. “You risked your own. I just…don’t want you to have to do that again.”

Charlotte's facade crumbled, her carefully constructed walls falling away as tears welled in her eyes. "What's wrong?" Bucky asked, brows furrowing in concern.

"I just... I didn't feel prepared," she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I was terrified the whole time, and I had no idea what I was doing. Everyone keeps calling me a hero, and I don’t…I’m not one.”

Bucky's head tilted as he took a step closer, his gaze searching hers. "You did great out there, Charlotte. You saved this whole place, and the lives of everyone in it."

Charlotte shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as the tears spilled over. "Did I? Or was it just dumb luck?"

Bucky reached out, gently cupping her cheek and wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Hey, don't say that. You were incredible. You held your own against HYDRA."

“I was scared shitless. I kept thinking how it was my fault. My fault they came here in the first place, and it would be my fault that the compound fell while you were gone. The whole time, I was just…making it up as I went.” She laughed coldly again, looking up to blink back tears. “Everyone keeps acting like I did something amazing, when we both know I only survived because of you. You’re the only one who sees through me, sees that I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing and I hate it. I wish you weren’t right, but you have been. Every single goddamn time.” She angrily wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

Watching her, sensing she wasn’t done, Bucky’s hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder. 

Charlotte looked down into her mug, seeing her reflection warped on the surface of the liquid. "I felt terrified," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Confused, lost. It all felt so... unnatural. I was second-guessing every decision, worried I was making the wrong move." She stared blankly ahead, eyes unseeing as her gaze looked somewhere past the lake. "I took it as a sign that I'd never make a good Avenger."

Bucky leaned back down over the railing, frowning at her. "Do you think you're the only one who feels that way? Even after hundreds of missions, there are times I'm still scared, still doubting." He paused, searching her face. "That fear, that uncertainty, it doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. And it's what makes you think, makes you evaluate and choose the best path forward, even when it's hard. It doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for this…it just means you actually give a shit about what you’re doing."

Charlotte met his gaze, and in that moment, a connection forged in the heat of conflict and cooled in the calm of understanding passed between them. The swift forgiveness of her incredibly cruel words. The raw, brutal honesty. The peace offering. The lack of judgment as she broke down in front of him. "I guess we're just trying to do our best, huh?" she said, a tentative, watery smile touching her lips.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, his voice soft but steady. "We're all just trying to do our best.”

Charlotte stared ahead, taking a slow sip of her coffee. Bucky studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Why are you up so late, Char?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat for a moment before she spoke. "Nightmares," she admitted quietly. "I’ve always had them, but they've been worse since... since the attack. I see all the other outcomes, if I’d failed. Tonight I dreamt that they got me, took me back there. That’s the worst one. Sometimes I have to get outside, under the stars and fresh air, just to remind myself that I'm free."

Bucky's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice low. "I still get them too. I imagine that I wake up from cryo, and this was all a dream, that I was never free. That’s my worst one.” 

Their eyes met, a rare moment when both of their walls had come down. Their looks mirrored each other, vulnerable and bare, waiting for the other to make one wrong move and get shut back out. Neither of them spoke. Even speaking the contents of her nightmares aloud had made Charlotte’s hands tremble, and she took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of her coffee cup. Breaking their gaze, she looked back out into the expansive night sky.

"Are you...scared? Now that they’re back?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky didn't hesitate. "Shitless.”

Charlotte reached out, her hand finding his on the railing. She expected him to pull away, to retreat into himself as he so often did. But to her surprise, he didn't. Instead, he tightened his grip, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand.

They sat in silence as the night stretched on around them, finding solace in each other's presence. They had no answers, no reprieve in sleep, not even peace in their home, but they had a hand to hold onto, anchoring them in their fear. And with it, they found a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

________

The Avengers' kitchen was a hive of activity, with pots clanging, eggs frying, and the aroma of breakfast filling the air. The team members moved about with practiced ease, each contributing to the morning chaos in their own way.

Sam, wielding a spatula like a pro, called out to Natasha, who was expertly flipping pancakes on the griddle. "Hey, Nat, you sure you didn't miss your calling as a short-order cook?" he teased, earning a laugh from the others.

“Maybe in the next life,” She winked, flipping another perfect pancake.

Steve couldn't resist chiming in from his post by the toaster. "I don't know, Sam. I think I’ve got her beat," he quipped, waving his burnt toast in the air. Charlotte wrinkled her nose as she walked past it, the bitter smell assaulting her. 

“Good morning sunshine,” Sam called before resuming his whistling, clearly in a great mood. Charlotte wondered if he’d just gotten back from Calla’s apartment, and when they’d stop splitting their time now that the secret of their relationship was out. She made a note to ask her friend later.

Bucky, already stationed by the coffee pot, flashed a grin as Charlotte waltzed up. "Coffee?" he offered, holding out a mug with a knowing look.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Second coffee in less than twelve hours?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. "Don’t get used to it," he deadpanned.

“Don’t be such a good barista.” She teased, sipping from her mug before hopping onto the counter beside him.

Their exchange didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team, who exchanged knowing glances and playful nudges as they observed the interaction.

Sam couldn't resist a quip. "Well, would you look at that? Bucky's finally learned how to share," he teased.

Natasha smirked, shooting Bucky a pointed look. "I guess miracles really do happen.” 

Always ready to diffuse a situation, Steve called. "Hey, Charlotte, I meant to tell you," he began, catching her eye. "Tony and Pepper are coming back to the compound later this afternoon. Pepper wants to meet with you.”

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Why?" she asked.

Steve nodded, his expression reassuring. "Yep. She wants to talk about hosting a press conference. They think it's time to let the world know who you are.” He gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t be nervous, you’ll do great. We’ve all done them. Even Bucky.” He elbowed his friend as he sidled past, plopping down at the head of the table. 

Charlotte raised her eyebrows, still looking hesitant. “If you say so.” 

“At least you'll look better on TV than Sam," Bucky said dryly, giving her a sidelong look.

Sam bristled at the jab, shooting Bucky a mock glare. "Hey, watch it, Barnes. I'll have you know I've got a face for the big screen," he retorted.

“Is that what they’ve been telling you?” He raised an eyebrow, dodging a swat from Sam’s spatula. Giggling, Charlotte felt slightly more at ease as her friends fell into chaos around her. 

_________

Smoothing her shirt, Charlotte approached the sleek conference room with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. She wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting with Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's famed and formidable right-hand woman. Did she do something wrong? Was she in trouble? The thoughts raced through her mind as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Ms. Rossi, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat," Pepper greeted warmly, gesturing to a chair across from her. She was beautiful, looking equal parts polished and genuine. 

Charlotte forced a smile and took a seat, trying to hide her unease. "My friends call me Charlotte, or at least, everyone here does.”

Pepper chuckled. "Alright, Charlotte. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you."

“Likewise.” She raised an eyebrow. “Although I’ll warn you, I’m not overly keen on the idea of a press conference…if that’s what this is about.”

Pepper chuckled again. "It is, but just know there’s no pressure. This is my professional recommendation, if you desire to be a more public part of the team. We’ve had quite a few incidents of public scrutiny over the past several years, and we’ve found that it makes everyone’s lives much easier if we stay ahead of it. And since you’re new here…"

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, adopting a more casual posture. "Then we should get ahead of it before the public can find something to scrutinize."

Pepper smiled. "Exactly."

“Well, let’s hear the game plan, then. You’re the expert.” 

Pepper clasped her hands together on the table atop a stack of notes. "Well, with everything that's been happening lately, there's been quite a bit of interest in you."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Me? What’s been happening lately?”

Pepper laughed softly. "Modesty, I see. But yes, your journey has captivated a lot of attention. You were all over the news with your stint in gymnastics, and then you even made a splash as a big fish in Las Vegas, all before disappearing. The internet is very difficult to slip anything past, and it didn’t take long for them to put things together. People love a mystery."

Charlotte tilted her head warily. "That’s one thing to call me."

Pepper smiled. "Indeed. But, we have an opportunity to share your story with the world. On your terms, the way you want it to be told. As much or as little as you’d like to give, anything would help prevent people from writing the narrative for you. Show them who you are before they can tell you."

Charlotte's skepticism showed on her face. "Ah, the old charm offensive, huh?"

Pepper nodded. "Something like that. It's a chance for people to get to know the real Charlotte, not just the headlines they’ll inevitably see if you join the Avengers Initiative."

“Who says I’m joining the Avengers?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m very good at my job.” Pepper winked. “And don't worry, you won't be alone. The team and I will be there to support you every step of the way. We’ll prepare you beforehand, be right there to step in if you get uncomfortable or don’t know how to answer something. You have my word.” 

Charlotte gave a half smile. "Alright, I'll do it. But if I say something wildly inappropriate or incriminating, I can’t be held responsible.”

Pepper laughed. "Have you met Tony? I don’t think we’ve ever had a press conference without something wildly inappropriate or incriminating. You’ll do just fine.”

[doe-writes-stuff]

The prison had fallen, Beth was missing, and whether he liked it or not, starting over was the only path forward. With nothing left to hold on to, Daryl's fine enough to follow the simple code the Claimers live by...until he isn't.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.6k

WARNINGS: The Claimers deserve their own warning, mentions of canon-typical violence, implications of rape.

A mobile home park wasn't the most ideal place to camp out, but Daryl supposed it could be worse. At least there'd be the possibility of a roof over his head. Clearly he wasn't the only one that felt the same. With Joe's men eyeing the welcome sign with greedy little grins in that way the hunter had gotten used to by now, he knew they'd not pass the place up.

Experience had taught him there was little of value in places like this--dense living arrangements, just like this one, had been the first to be sacked when the world went to shit--but he kept his mouth firmly shut as Joe directed them through the front gates. If they wanted to waste their time, who was he to say anything?

Wasn't like he really gave a shit about them anyway.

From the moment they stepped past the first home, scattered calls of 'Claimed' were already ringing out above the increasing groans of the dead, the others snatching up the first bits of property they could even before they'd cleared the place out.

Daryl thought it incredibly stupid to have your attention on something other than the walkers emerging from between the mobile homes in small pockets. One slip-up could mean you were cornered by a dozen walkers. One moment of distraction could mean someone else got bit. But still, he kept his mouth shut and swept the place with focus.

Despite their lack of concern, the Claimers were an efficient team. Walkers fell, one after another, with their knives and hammers and other improvised weapons. The men laughed and mocked the particularly degraded ones, a pastime Daryl found quite tacky.

"Look at 'er." One pointed out to an approaching undead. She shambled and stumbled closer, half of her face devoured down to the bone underneath. "Bet those walkers did her a favor tearin' off that face. Wasn't winnin' any beauty contests back in the day."

The comments earned several chuckles from the others, but Daryl stayed silent, dispatching of her with one arrow straight to the head. The others complained about their entertainment being cut short, but he said nothing in return, stonily retrieving the arrow from her head after she'd collapsed to the ground.

The dead were taken care of without incident, somehow. Small miracles. And once the eerie groaning was finally silenced, the place otherwise quiet save for their tromping steps down the pavement and through the grass lawns. Wind rustled stray bits of trash and rubbish along the road.

Joe stopped in the center of the park and appraised the place with a careful eye, sweeping his gaze around him. The other men naturally fell in line around him, waiting on whatever he had to say.

"I'd say this is a fine place to camp for the night. Plenty'a space, and decent pickin's for supplies" Joe says, then gestures towards all the men waiting on his word. "Go on, then. Have a good look around. See if we can't find ourselves somethin' interesting."

The suggestion was a thinly-veiled order. The others began trickling off in random directions, choosing one of the many homes to search first. Daryl sighed, waiting until the others had left to head off in a direction no one else had. He found it easiest to live with these pricks if he kept to himself as much as possible. It left little opportunity to make friends, but that wasn't why he was here.

In a lot of ways, the Claimers felt familiar. The degenerates Merle used to hang around before the turn were similarly tempered, cocky, self-absorbed, and thought they were owed something because they could throw a punch. Daryl was once that way, following his older brother's lead.

Merle would have fit right in to the Claimers' ways. Maybe that would have once brought some sort of comfort, finding people so much like his brother, but now...it just felt wrong.

Shaking out of those thoughts, Daryl stepped over the body of an old corpse to check the first home. The Prison was gone. Rick was gone, Carol was gone. Beth, Glenn, Maggie, Carl, Herschel...and you.

No point wishing for something he couldn't have.

You'd heard them before you'd seen them. Men, several by the number of different voices and footsteps. They made no effort to mask their noise, either confident or stupid about attracting attention. Maybe a mix of both.

Either way, you knew there'd be too many to take down in a fight. Running was no longer an option; the mobile home park only had one entrance, where they'd just come from. With only a large knife to your name and a backpack of supplies you'd looted so far from the mobile home park before they'd arrived, you were utterly outnumbered and definitely outmatched. This wasn't good.

Managing to hide in one of the mobile homes, you shucked off your guts-covered poncho and threw it to the floor, eyes frantically searching for any sort of hiding spot. The inside was sparse, trashed, and didn't offer many options. But the men were growing closer and you had no alternatives. Stepping outside again would most assuredly have you seen and caught, if not eaten by all of the walkers they were currently stirring up.

Damn it all.

The small closet at the back of the home was just big enough for you to fit inside, and after a paranoid check that some walker wasn't stuffed in there already, you slid inside and shut the door. It was tight. It was uncomfortable. But hopefully it would save your life.

The frantic beat of your heart sounds so loud to your own ears. Breaths pant out shakily. Fingers adjusting themselves on your knife, you wait in preparation, the darkness oppressive around you. Heavy and sinister. It reminded you so much of the tombs in the prison. Dark tunnels filled with danger. They had always given you the creeps.

Little by little, the sounds of the dead lessened until you could no longer hear them. And still, you stayed quiet and in the closet. You knew the men were still there, somewhere. You thought you heard distance voices, but it was difficult to know for sure when adrenaline was rushing through your veins.

And then the noise grew louder. Two men talking, bickering perhaps, if the cadence in tone was anything to go by. The words themselves are indistinguishable, but they're close. And that's enough to put you on edge.

You feel a pulse of nervous energy make your hair stand on end as the mobile home's door opens, the vibrations felt even from your hiding spot in the closet.

They were inside. Fuck.

"Bet this place is a goldmine of shit to find."

"Well, it won't be if you keep hanging off my heels. Get lost, Billy."

The sound of rummaging, opening and closing of drawers and cabinets, can be heard. Their steps are heavy and you force your breath out as steady as it can possibly be.

"Claimed."

"Nah, ain't claimin' this. I found it, I claim it.

"I said it first."

"Who's gonna know? No one here but me."

"You know the rules, Harley. Can't touch what other people claim."

"What, gonna run to Joe? Tell'im how I stole your little toy? Between the two of us, who d'you think he's gonna believe more? The guy that's been with him since the beginning, or some punk we picked off the tracks a couple months ago?"

A tense silence persists. Though blind, you can only imagine the stare-down happening between these two men. The only question was whether one would turn on the other in the battle of wills that preceded.

But all you hear is a frustrated curse mumbled under the man's breath, and the shuffling of something fabric.

"Fine...but I'm claiming that backpack over there."

...backpack?

You minutely shift your shoulders but don't feel the familiar weight, realizing with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach what they were talking about. In your haste to take off your poncho and hide, you'd forgotten to grab your bag again. There go your supplies.

There go the few trinkets from the prison you'd managed to save in your escape, too.

"Lemme see that."

"Ain't gonna keep blackmailing me, Harley. I claimed it!"

"Shut up, I'm not claiming it, you ass. Look, see this thing? That blood's fresh, hasn't dried onto the fabric yet.

"So what?"

"So someone's been here, you idiot. Recent, too. Might still be here."

You swallow dryly, muscles preparing to strike if that closet door were to open. The buzz settling just underneath your skin seems to kick up a notch, the men strangely silent as their steps wander the inside of the home. Closer and closer to where you lay hiding...

A commotion brings Daryl out of the second mobile home he's searched. And while fights among the men during the claiming process wasn't exactly uncommon, something told him that this one was different.

Stepping out into the open air, he carried his sack of meager belongings with him back towards where Joe waited with a couple of the other Claimers. Further on, he could see another one moving towards the noise as well.

He's confused to see someone being pinned into the ground underneath Harley's knee, their arms held tightly to their back. They squirmed and bit insults at the man holding them down, but he couldn't quite see who they were at this distance.

Several of the men gave amused wolf-whistles, which gave Daryl a fair idea that they were actually a she.

"I did say to find us something interesting, and look what we have here." Joe said to the group of amused and chuckling men once Daryl was within earshot of the group. He took a stance in the loose circle that was forming, and finally got a good look at...

...you.

Holy shit.

It hit him like a punch to the gut. All at once, the emotions he'd been keeping under strict lock and key starting banging at the cage walls to be let out. Hope he hadn't dared allowed himself to feel came bursting through his chest the moment you settled your own gaze on him, widening as if you'd seen a ghost.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out, shock robbing any and all words you could have wanted to say. Confusion smattered with relief, but all else was overshadowed by your irritation and fear at having been caught by these strangers.

"Where'd you find her?" Joe asked easily, inspecting you with interest. Daryl was barely paying attention to anyone other than you.

"Was hiding in one of the homes, stuffed herself in the closet with a knife. Got Billy on the arm, but he'll live." Harley nodded behind him at the younger man who was currently bandaging his arm up with gauze. "She's a fighter, for sure."

"Break-in' her in will be fun. Haven't seen one this pretty in months." Dan alluded with a lecherous grin. "She's certainly easy on the eyes."

The men continued their comments up, agreeing with Dan's statement and implicating things that made Daryl's blood boil. These weren't good men. He knew it. But to this point he hadn't cared about that. No reason to.

So caught up in the simple fact that you were alive and you were here, Daryl didn't think to do something before anyone else got the bright idea to--

"Claimed."

Daryl froze in panic, until he realized that the words had come from your own mouth, eyes now riveted on Joe with an intense determination. The surprise rippled through the others, silencing the group as a whole. The leader took a step forward, tilting his head in curiosity. "What was that, darlin'?"

"Claimed." You say again, with more force this time now that all these men weren't talking about you like a piece of meat. "I said claimed."

Joe's nod is slow, thoughtful. You and him have all the attention. Daryl's loathe to admit that he hasn't said a word up to this point. And that makes him pissed beyond belief at himself. "And what, might I ask, are you claimin'?"

"My damn self."

"Hmm." The Claimers' leader mulled over this statement for several moments, and Daryl was worried what he was thinking of doing. Not that Daryl would let any of them try. He subtly reached for the knife at his hip and was already making mental paths towards you and how he'd fend off these pricks from trying to kill you both.

Then, with one final glance around at the men standing around him, Joe gestured to Harley still pinning you to the ground to get off of you. "You heard 'er. Rules are rules."

"You serious, Joe?" Harley's incredulous response rings loud, but Joe only shakes his head slow.

"We all know what breaking rules leads to, Harley. I'm sure the lady here will forgive this the one time, considering you weren't to know she was claimed before you put hands on 'er. Ain't that right, miss?"

Daryl watches as you nod in return, face hard yet passive. He had no idea how you knew about the Claimers' rules, but he wasn't going to question it too much. He'd always known you were wicked smart, quick on your feet. This just confirmed it further.

Still, he kept a good grip on his knife by his hip, just in case.

Harley stared back at Joe for several seconds, before begrudgingly releasing your hands and standing from your back. You don't immediately get up, slowly working out the aches that him crushing you into the pavement had caused.

"Apologies, miss. We don't take kindly to people who harm one of our own. I'm sure you can understand." Joe says with easy casualness, watching patiently as you rise to your feet. You say nothing in response.

"Are we taking her with us?" Billy asks the question on all of their minds aloud. Though, suspicion colors his tone, still nursing his injured arm.

"That depends." Joe give you a pointed look. "If the lady agrees to all of our rules, I don't see why not."

"What rules?"

"Only two." Joe counts them off on his fingers. "You claim what is yours, and keep your hands off what isn't. You tell the truth, at all times. Dishonesty or stealing is punished severely. We don't tolerate that kind'a shit."

He wonders what you'll decide, to stay or go. He'd follow you no matter what you chose. Seeing you alive had done more for him since Beth had been taken than anything else had. You'd relit the fire of hope inside his chest and there wasn't anything he'd let extinguish it again. Not after all you'd lost.

Daryl catches the quick glance you send towards him, and you nod after a moment of hesitation. "I've got nowhere else to be. This group seems good as any."

He can tell you don't mean it.

Joe give a pleased smile. "You're smarter than most gals we've come across, Miss...?"

"Y/N."

"Well, Y/N," Joe reaches out his hand for you to shake, and though you are hesitate to take it, you do eventually accept, "we're lucky to have you."

"Hmm." You manage the barest hint of a smile, and your eyes slide over to Daryl. He wonders if you could see him putting his knife away. "Somehow, it feels like I'm the lucky one."

For the first time in days, Daryl felt like things were looking up.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

top gun/daisy jones and the six au

So like the little magpie I am, I have once again stolen one of my lovely gf's hyperfixations in a piece of media I haven't even consumed. Because what better way to consume media than just having your gf @hangsters tell you all the best bits and then help you make a top gun au?

So there is an up and coming rock band in the 70s music scene called Top Gun, consisting of Nicholas 'Goose' Bradshaw on drums, Ron 'Slider' Kerner on bass and Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky on lead guitar and vocals. They've recently added a relative unknown called Alice Duong on keys to round out their sound (who keeps drawing the eye of their bassist) but they're struggling to climb the charts.

Their success and their struggle is all down to their lead and originator, Iceman Kazansky. Fellow musicians can't stop raving about the technical flourishes in the songs, the skill and effort put into every solo, the way Kazansky seems to live and breathe music. But that experimental nature is struggling to capture people who'd just be listening to the radio on their way to work.

So their manager has an idea. Guess who he also represents, whose was a massive hit before the drugs and alcohol and partying caught up with him, who works a crowd like no one else and just oozes raw charisma and just got out of rehab and needs a comeback? Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. And he could be just what Top Gun needs.

Instantly, Mav and Ice struggle to get along. Mav comes into the recording studio like a hurricane, messing up Ice's perfect riffs and technical genius with improvised solos, lyric changes and a general disregard for anything Kazansky (or anyone who ins't him) has to say. The rest of the bad worry that this could wreck the band entirely rather than save them. But the songs that come out of this battle are genius and sell like gangbusters.

So they tour and Ice and Mav are still butting heads but it seems to have...shifted. Like they hate each other but they love it? So no one is really surprised when one of their arguments over a song turns into the hottest sex.

But there's a problem. Maverick has never ever had a relationship like this where it's with someone he actually might love? And he panics about not being good enough, about letting Ice down and the pressure of having a gay relationship in the 70s. And yeah, he's always bucked gender roles (he's trans but not out publicly) and played with sexuality in his music but Ice feels real and he's so scared.

So one night Ice finds him high and shaking in the bathroom after a show. And he just helps him into the bath, washes him, gets him to drink water and takes care of him. But he tells him 'you have until December 1st when the tour ends and then you're done with this. you're going to get clean and be a good man for me'. And Maverick does.

Meanwhile, Goose is struggling being away from his high school sweetheart and love of his life Carole. They get the whole adorable 'if I say I have a record deal will you marry me?' thing and they have a cute backyard wedding when they realise she's pregnant and then along comes little Bradley who Goose loves more than anything (I have hangster stuff in this AU also but this post is getting long)

And eventually, after show after show of Slider staring at her, Alice finally confronts him. She's met guys in this industry that see her as a muse, see her as a skirt and nothing else and she's so done with all that. She just wants someone who treats her like a person and if Ron's gonna be that person he'd better hurry the fuck up and kiss her before she gets sick of waiting. And slider was just scared to be like one of those guys so he was holding back but now he has the go ahead he's kissing her like there's no tomorrow.

But yes I'm so deep in this AU it's not even funny and I'm looking how I can get some fics or maybe even a multi chapter thing out of it so! Ask questions, send requests, please enjoy!

[lampmanliveblogs]

For the Future Liveblog

Owl House! Owl House! Owl House!

And who knows, with the return to the Demon Realm maybe we’ll actually get to see The Owl House in this episode! More likely, we’ll get to see King and The Collector’s game of Owl House, whatever that will look like.

But yes, my general predictions for this episode… the following bullet points represent the major story beats I expect to see as well as the general structure.

•I think the opening scene of this episode will act as a parallel to the opening scene of the previous episode. In that we got to see what happened right after the end of King’s Tide in the Human Realm. I think we’ll get a similar scene from the perspective of the Demon Realm. I think that will be followed either by a flash forward to the present day, showing what King and The Collector are up to, or…

•We see The Exiles (plus Camila) return to the Demon Realm and witness the state of affairs. They’ll likely try to find their families and allies and try to figure out where to go from there.

•Previously mentioned state of affairs include King & The Collector’s game of Owl House. I’m expecting King to fake it until he makes it and improvise his way through the whole thing. The thing is, he said they needed an entire island’s worth of people to play, and The Collector does seem powerful enough to make and entire island’s worth of people participate in his games, regardless of their wishes.

•To make things even more complicated, we also have to factor in Philip. What exactly he’s planning, I have no idea. If I had to guess… it probably has something to do with The Collector. If this celestial toymaker is powerful enough to deactivate the draining spell, they’re certainly powerful enough to reactivate it. Or just sink the island into the boiling sea.

•End on a cliffhanger to lead into the final episode.

Some other guesses include a bit more on the backstory of Philip, Caleb & Evelynn. Obviously, I’m expecting more character development and growth from Luz and probably also Hunter. Oh, and maybe we’ll even see Luz’ palisman hatch!

Also, Bat-Queen.

Anyways, let’s get into it!

Called it. We’re indeed starting off at the end of King’s Tide. This time, however, we got a shot of the exterior of The Head, showing how The Collector straight-up split it in half. Once this grand game of Owl House concludes, regardless of who wins and who loses, the Boiling Isles will not look the same ever again.

”It feels like the whole world is singing!”

Cut to people screaming and running for their lives as this Child of the Stars rains down fire upon the tiny mortals below.

”Yeah, I wouldn’t call that ’singing’”

You know things have seriously gone off the rails when King of all people has to be the voice of reason. 

King says that the fun game The Owl House, which he totally did not make up less than five minutes ago, is kinda like a game of pretend. Which is kinda what I suspected he’d go with. But it did make me wonder… what would a game of pretend even be like for a god?

At this point, I stood up and paced back and forth through the room, contemplating this question. It was pretty fascinating to think about,  but not something I believe most of you people are interested in hearing me ramble on about.

The important part is this; if we go along the line of thinking that The Collector is a god, then most gods are able to create things either from nothing, or by turning one thing into something else. We see The Collector reshape parts of The Head into their new Owl House. So a game of pretend for a god that is able to create things they imagine would very quickly become a game of reality.

You know how as kids we all pretended sticks we found to be swords (I definitely do not still do this) or magic wands or what have you? It would not surprise me if during their game of pretend, if The Collector were to be given a stick and told to imagine it as a sword, that stick would become a sword.

In other words…

What’s life like when you grant your own wishes? Sorbet skies full ’a honey & kisses! Baking? Self-reflection? So exhausting! Take those imperfections & coat them in frosting! Craft your life, give it all you can give it And pray for the day that you might be forgiven

It’s a fitting reference because King can’t Say ’No.’ Maybe I should add another nickname for The Collector and start calling them the Prince of Plastic.

Lilith! It’s been far too long!

And of course! If anyone can defeat the godlike Collector, it would be the great and powerful Lord Hooty! Their battle will be legendary!

[shslprince]

My big "Momota was sick pregame" theory post

This is very fast and loose but a theory I've been holding onto for quite some time, and wanted to organize it out in writing. Obvious V3 spoiler warnings.

Before I go any deeper I do wanna point out this is still only a theory and how I interpret Momota's character. Team danganronpa infecting a guy with a deadly disease for the sake of ratings and drama is totally within the lines of the post modernist critique V3 portrays, but I also believe there's enough evidence pointing otherwise as well. There's mainly 3 key points:

1: Momota's final moments

During the post trial of chapter 5, Momota goes over his actions throughout the game, motives for joining ouma's plan, and also that he's simply out of time with his illness. And as explains there's this particular line he says above: he doesn't remember how he got sick in the first place. If Momota was always meant to be dying from this illness, then surely there would've been some sort of foreshadowing to this with his ingame memories, right? Even a little push that maybe something was off during training. But even in his final moments when hes baring his soul, this one key factor is still unclear. The fact the "my memories" part is highlighted in particular strengthens this, along with the sheer confusion in his face.

Now of course, Monokuma tries to explain this in that the deadly virus was simply dormant during his astronaut training, not flaring up until much later. And while that's possible, that only supports my next point:

2: The rushed chapter 5 flashback light

The ingame explanation for the illness is in the flashback light of chapter 5, going over how the cast of v3 is connected to the hope's peak saga, and also tries to cover where that illness came from. All the flashback lights in V3 are a tool for Tsumugi to manipulate the game in her favor, providing motives and course correcting when needed. But chapter 5's flashback light is a bit special: its the most rushed, slapdashed one with tons of inconsistencies.

Tsumugi even admits to this in chapter 6. It was mainly damage control after Ouma took the game away from her. The virus explanation is also an extension of that, only showing up when Momota's illness was fully exposed after chapter 4. Now it is true that she was building up a Sci Fi plot over time, and meteorites containing deadly viruses would've fitted perfectly. But if his illness was always supposed to be part of the script, why not include that detail earlier in chapter 4's flashback light, where said meteors were introduced in the first place? Why only go over it in chapter 5, the one flashback light that Momota -the guy with the illness she's trying to explain in the first place- doesn't see? Its a bandaid, a way for Tsumugi to wrangle back control of the game, and that includes weaving Momota's illness into her Sci fi plot.

If there's one thing moogs is good at, it's improvising her way out of sticky situations and using them to her favor.

The final point is the most speculative and hinges on a certain interpretation of pregame Momota, but it's an important one nonetheless:

3: The Audition tapes

Now the audition tapes are already murky waters regarding characterization, there's room for doubt if they were edited in a way to make them look as bad as possible, or even be flat out fake. Personally I do believe they are legit, if a bit exaggerated. But regardless, there's a specific point in Momota's audition that always sticks out: that once he's got fame and fortune, he doesn't have to worry about what's impossible.

PG!Momota being a bloodthirsty attention stealing asshole is one thing, with his lines being a nice contrast to in game Momotas motto, but what's this "impossible thing" he doesn't have to worry about once he got rich? What could he have possibly worried about to the point joining a death game to win it big?

With these three points, this is where I drew my conclusion: that Momota was sick pregame. He had an illness that got in the way of his dreams, turning them into an impossibility and himself jaded as a result, and that he had nowhere to go except join a death game in the chances of striking it big and win, using said fame and fortune to get a cushy life, maybe even afford to get treatment. And if he doesn't win, then at least he gets to die in a blaze of glory, televised worldwide and reaping that post-mortem fame.

It also explains as to how quickly his health deteriorated. If he was already sick long before the game, and unaware that he was ill in the first place thanks to his implanted memories, then it would make sense how he already starts to cough up blood in chapter 3.

Again, this is still a theory based on a specific interpretation of Momota. It's still possible team DR infected him for the sake of the show, and the entertainment industry destroying their cast/crew for the sake of their craft is not uncommon. But I think the interpretation of a guy with a terminal illness going into a death game for fame and fortune, and the company running said death game using that illness for their advantage and trying to claim it as their own is also just as interesting and fits right into the themes of V3.

[rengokuswif3]

I Love You, Idiot

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

Description: You’re a fellow Hashira coming back from a mission, you’re hurt and the closest estate is Sanemi Shinazugawa’s, your long time crush.

You groaned as you stumbled through the woods, holding your side which was seeping blood from a particularly nasty wound. You had ripped off one of your sleeves of your uniform to dress the wound, but the blood had soaked through. You cursed that demon out under your breath for hurting you so bad, but killing it gave you peace of mind. The only problem was that you were miles away from the Butterfly Mansion, and you were losing blood quickly, you definitely wouldn’t be able to make it there.

You jumped when a clap of thunder boomed in the sky above you, and rain started to pour from the sky. Great. Now you’d be wet and freezing cold, on top of bleeding out. You continued to trudge through the woods, leaning on trees for support and blinking rain out of your eyes. Your vision was getting blurry, both from the rain and the lack of blood. You had to find somewhere to rest soon, and you had to stop the bleeding or you would die.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking, you came across a large estate. You recognized it too: this was Sanemi Shinazugawa’s estate. Of course his was the one you came across, the last thing you wanted was for him to see you in this state, all weak and pathetic, but you had no choice but to ask for his help. You limped over to his doorstep, having to sit on his porch as you swayed and your vision blurred even further. You weakly knocked on the door, praying he heard it over the thunderstorm. When there was no answer, you used the rest of your strength to knock as hard as you could, and thankfully he heard it this time.

“Who the hell-shit, Y/N?” He softened immediately when he looked down and saw you leaning against his house, getting blood all over the wooden porch. He saw your blood stained hands and soaked through improvised bandage, and quickly picked you up and took you inside.

“Jesus Christ, why didn’t you send your crow?” He scolded as he brought you into the kitchen, sitting you at the table while he grabbed supplies to patch you up.

“Damn demon…killed it.” You panted, your vision dancing with black spots.

“Don’t you pass out on me, you’re already putting so much weight on my shoulders.” He snapped, taking off the blood soaked bandage and tossing it away. “I gotta take your shirt off to clean this thing, is that alright?”

“No, I’d rather die than you see my bare torso.” You mumbled sarcastically.

“Well at least you’re still annoying as ever, that’s a good sign.” He chuckled and shook his head, carefully taking off the rest of your haori and unbuttoning the blouse of your uniform. You were wearing a sports bra underneath, but he still couldn’t help but blush and stare. He focused back on your wound, pressing a clean cloth to it, apologizing when you winced.

As soon as he properly dressed your wounds and got you something to drink, you had enough strength back to go change out of your ripped and blood soaked clothes, and into some spare loungewear Sanemi gave you. After you were changed you went back downstairs, where you saw Sanemi heating up leftovers for you. The food smelled amazing, you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until now.

“Thanks for helping me, Sanemi.” You cleared your throat to let him know you were there. He looked at you and didn’t respond as he filled a bowl of chicken and fried rice, sliding it over to you.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna let you bleed out on my porch.” He mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking anywhere but at you. “You would’ve stained it.”

You laughed a bit at that, knowing that was his way of saying “you’re welcome”. You took a bite of the food, nearly moaning as the flavors melted in your mouth, and made your stomach warm when you swallowed it. You started shoving food into your mouth like a starving animal, not caring when Sanemi laughed at you and told you to slow down.

“You can have the guest room, it’s right across from mine.” Sanemi told you. “Uh, there should be first aid stuff under the sink if you need it, we can get you to the Butterfly Mansion in the morning.”

“Well aren’t you quite the gentleman?” You teased, smiling at his flustered expression.

“Shut up, you’re lucky I’m not kicking you right back out to that rain.” He crossed his arms. “You should treat me better for my generosity.”

“Oh, pardon me good sir.” You said sarcastically, to which he rolled his eyes at but had a smile on his face now.

“I’m going to bed.” He quickly walked past you to the stairs. “We head out as first light.”

You watched him disappear up the stairs, and quickly finished eating the food he had given you. You were still hungry, so you heated up a bit more food, hoping he wouldn’t mind too much. You weren’t tired at all anymore, still a bit shaken up from your battle and the thunder making it impossible to relax for long. So you went to his living room and turned on the tv, absentmindedly watching the cooking channel as you finished your second bowl of food.

You thought about Sanemi as you leaned back into the couch, remembering the feeling of his rough and calloused hands cleaning your wound just moments before. He was surprisingly gentle, you had expected him to be pretty rough and careless but he tenderly pressed your wounds to stop the bleeding and gently cleaned them so he wouldn’t hurt you. You wondered if that’s how he was with everyone, or if was just how he was with you.

Sanemi had always been a bit nicer to you, and by that you meant that when he insulted you, there was a teasing tone and a smile on his face. And not his creepy smile, a genuine smile. Whenever you two sparred, he liked to pin you to the ground and jokingly call you weak, but then you’d wipe that smile right off his face by flipping the both of you over and keeping him pinned down below you. He had that certain charm to him, and that’s what made you fall for him. Only Mitsuri knew about your little crush, she had picked up on it pretty early on, but she promised not to tell anybody and would let you fish about Sanemi to her.

“Still up?” A voice said behind you, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned around to see Sanemi, shirtless with just a pair of sweatpants hugging his hips. You turned back around before he could see the blush creep across your face, or notice your breathing pick up.

“Uh, yeah, can’t sleep.” You finally answered as he rounded the couch and sat on the other side. “You can’t either?”

“Damn storms making it impossible.” Sanemi grumbled, pushing back some of his hair by raking his hand through it. You instinctively licked your lips at the motion, mentally scolding yourself when he caught you staring.

“Yeah, I’m still on an adrenaline rush.” You nodded, awkwardly trying to keep the conversation going. Your attempt failed, and you both silently watched Gordon Ramsay yelling at some poor chefs, all the while you kept yourself from staring at him and admiring his shirtless form.

You gasped when all of a sudden the lights went out, leaving the both of you in pitch black darkness.

“Fantastic.” Sanemi groaned. “Well, wanna go to sleep now?”

“Ugh, you got any candles?” You asked.

“Jeez, you are one annoying house guest.” He joked.

“And you’re a lousy host.” You smiled, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. You heard him get up, so you quickly stood up. “Wait, don’t leave me by myself!”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark!” He laughed at you.

“Shut up! I’m just shaken up from the stupid demon attack!”

“Uh huh, okay.” He laughed again as he took your hand, which made you jump. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the scary monsters.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I think it is.” He said as he guided you around his house slowly, not wanting to bump into anything. You followed him into what you figured out what the kitchen, where he let go of your hand to sift through a drawer. Once he found the lighter he clicked it on, holding it under his face and laughing like a maniac with his creepy smile.

“Sanemi! Knock that shit off!” You punched his arm as he laughed normally, grinning at you.

“You’re so easy to mess with.” He chuckled, finding candles and lighting them for the both of you. “Wanna tell spooky stories next?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” He handed you two candles as he picked up the other two, and the both of you walked back to the living room. You set all the candles on his coffee table, before getting comfortable back onto his couch. You sat in awkward silence for awhile, not knowing what to say.

“Hey Sanemi?” You eventually broke the silence, making him look up at you. “I’m glad I almost died on your porch.”

“Huh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean I’m glad it was your porch and not someone else’s. You really saved my ass.”

“Yeah, I did.” He said quickly. “You’re Uh…you’re welcome, dumbass.”

“What, is that my new pet name?” You teased.

“You prefer ‘babe’?” He asked, making your face heat up. You locked eyes with him, seeing that he was completely serious. You opened you mouth to respond, but nothing came out. “Look, Mitsuri told me-“

“I’m gonna kill her!” You blurted, betrayed that your friend would tell him. Not that you minded too much, at least only if he accepted your feelings.

“And I uh…I like you too, idiot.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away from me. I saw his own face heat up as he fidgeted with his hands.

“…Really?” You asked finally, scooting a bit closer to him on the couch.

“Don’t go getting all lovey dovey and mushy on me.” He snapped, making you smile. “Look, I just think you’re a badass with a fat ass…and I like being around you.”

“A badass with a fat ass? That’s your confession?”

“You’re not getting a better one than that.”

“Well…I think you’re a badass with a fat ass too.” You giggled, making him chuckle a bit. “I just…I didn’t expect you to like me back. I thought I was annoying you.”

“Everyone annoys me, you just annoy me less than everyone else does. Plus, you’re just…I don’t know, you’re different. You don’t take my shit and I admire you for that. In fact, you don’t take anybody’s shit and it’s…I like you for it. And for your stupid jokes. And the way you look at me.”

“And how do I look at you?” You asked as you moved a bit closer, now sitting next to him rather than across from him.

“Like…like I’m a good man. Like I’m not an asshole. Like you…you trust me. And it’s a nice feeling, nobody around here wants much to do with me, except you.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing the words coming out of his mouth. You were shocked to say the least, maybe you were delirious from your wounds, maybe you were dreaming. Deep down you knew this was very real, but it felt like a dream.

“It’s because I do trust you.” You finally responded.

“Why?” He asked, genuinely curious as he looked into your eyes.

“You’ve never done anything to betray my trust. You always help me, even if it’s out of your way. Like tonight, I knew if I showed up bleeding on your doorstep, you wouldn’t leave me hanging and I’d be safe. I just…I feel safe with you, and I enjoy your company. I know you think you’re not worthy of it or you’re too edgy to be close to somebody, but I want to be close to you.” You slowly put your hand on top of his, feeling him tense up before relaxing. “I…I love you, Sanemi.”

He stared at you blankly, expressing not changing. At first you thought you were too forward, so you started to apologize, but was quickly interrupted when he crashed his lips into yours. You gasped into the kiss in surprise as his hands came to your sides, being careful not to press your wound. Eventually you relaxed as you kissed again, wrapping your arms around his neck to get closer to him. After a few more kisses you were practically in his lap, hand tangled in his hair. Both of you were breathless when you pulled away, staring into one another’s eyes.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He whispered, cupping your face with one hand, the other still wrapped around your torso.

You tried to stifle a yawn, but he noticed you were getting tired so he carefully laid down and held you to his chest. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, sighing in content as he ran a hand through your hair.

“I love you.” You mumbled sleepily, sleep over taking quickly. You felt vibrations as he chuckled, then kissed you on the head.

“I love you too, idiot.”

[lostgirl677]

Room of memories part 2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

TW : Angst, bad writing and a bit long

Part 1 

Part 3

Masterlist

You knew it was a stupid idea to follow the noises, especially with all the things that seemed to lurk in the dark in Hawkins but you couldn’t resist. Your common sense kind of disappeared every time the silhouette was near. Your hope that it was indeed Eddie might lead you to your demise but you had to cling on to this for dear life if you wanted to keep going. What you saw and heard the other night while in the trailer couldn’t be just your imagination on overdrive. That bloodied piece of fabric in your pocket was very real. No, you had to follow this person until you knew if it was him or something else. If it’s the latter, well… you’ll improvise ? But at least you’ll know. Some would say it’s suicide but you were more than willing to take the risk. Either way, you’d be reunited with Eddie, whether in reality or in the beyond. You walked as carefully as you could with only the light of a pale moon. In the eerie silence of the night, every step you took sounded terribly loud, seeming to disturb the peace that reigned when no one was outside. Your heartbeat was going crazy and almost desperate, you were sure that it was loud enough for someone to hear it. As you approached, you could catch a glimpse of the individu.The silhouette was here, in the shadow of the building. They were tall and their backs were turned to you. Something in the air seemed to change, you could feel it. The closer you got, the more it was perceptible. Their aura was mysterious, like they weren't human at all. You could see shoulder length wavy hair and a kind of torn military jacket but before you could detail them any further, they slowly turned to face you. It was Eddie, you knew it ! You were so happy that you barely questioned how it was even possible.Before you could even pronounce a word, he suddenly opened his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes seemed to glow with a pale purple shade in the dark. Something was definitely off about him. Your head and your heart were at war. Of course, you wanted to run to him,to kiss him like there was no tomorrow, to tell him all the things you didn’t have the time to share. But his eyes ? What happened to him ? A flow of memories overwhelmed you completely, so hard that you almost dropped to your knees. The painful memories of his last moments, his blood everywhere, his face contorted by an unbearable pain and yet the loving gaze he gave you while saying his last words… 

Despite your fierce wish to see him again, you never anticipated what you’d do if it actually happened. So here you were, about to burst into a thousand tears. ‘Eddie ?’ you said with a wavering voice, barely above a whisper. His expression seemed to shift to sadness. After a second of hesitation, he took a careful step towards you, so as to not scare you. At that moment, you saw him more in detail. His t-shirt was torn in various places, his skin was paler than before, his fingertips were sharper than they were supposed to be. As your eyes roamed over his form, his lips curved into a sad smile.He was about to tell you something. That’s at that precise moment that you saw it. His teeth. Two of them were longer and sharper than the others. You gasped lightly, putting a hand before your mouth as you finally understood what he was now. At your gesture a hurt expression suddenly crossed his features and he stepped back quickly before spreading some kind of wings, completely misreading your expression. ‘ No ! Eddie, wait !’ you screamed at the top of your lungs, trying to catch him before he could fly away. But he was faster than you. And before you knew it, he vanished in the darkness of the night. This time you truly bursted into tears. What an idiot ! Fate gave you another chance and you were wasting it away. You hurted him deeply, you knew it and it was the last thing you wanted. After all he’s been through, he didn’t deserve this reaction from you. You hoped to find him again, but how ? You didn’t care whether he was human, vampire or even unicorn, you loved him no matter what. Will he even forgive you ? ‘Hey Y/N !’ shouted Dustin, making you jump. ‘This campaign was crazy. Eddie would be so… What happened ? You okay ?’ He said, getting closer to you to wrap you in his arms. You sniffed .‘Yeah. It’s just so sad that he didn’t get to play it. It was a real masterpiece and he wasn’t even there. I miss him so much, Dustin.I want just him back so damn hard’, you partially lied. How to tell him that Eddie wasn’t dead in the proper sense of the word and that he wasn’t human anymore ? He might have seen weird things over the past years but it was too much to process.He looked at you sympathetically, visible tears in his eyes and hugged you tighter. You stayed like that for a moment, bringing again all the good moments you had with Eddie. 

Eddie’s pov

He flew fast and landed on the other side of the building, way too drained by his encounter with Y/N to go farther.  At the moment his feet touched the ground, he curled himself up and began to sob quietly.The way she looked at him will haunt him forever. He was used to people treating him like a monster but her reaction when she saw his fangs truly killed him. He couldn’t blame her, though. She saw him die in her arms and it must have been a huge shock to see him again. But he couldn’t help the tightening sensation of his no longer beating heart. In a way, it would have been better for everyone if he had simply died for good. He wouldn’t be condemned to live in the darkness and alone. It was a mistake to show himself to her, he knew it. He was being selfish. He took away her chance to move on but also knew that she saw him when he went back in this dimension. That she wouldn’t let go that easy. He threw his cold hands on his hair. He couldn’t bear it. Last night, he heard his uncle crying hard while he was hidden under the window. He let Wayne down just like he let Y/N and Dustin down. He shouldn’t have left the Upside Down, it was a mistake. He had every reason to go back there.Story of his life, he never belonged in Hawkins anyway. Now he was dead and wanted by the authorities for a crime he never committed. He had to find his place in the Upside Down one way or another, now that he was a real monster, and not just one in his own eyes.It was…’a real masterpiece and he wasn’t even there. I miss him so much, Dustin.I just want him back so damn hard’. Eddie suddenly lifted his head, startled. He was so overwhelmed by his emotions that he didn’t even pay attention to the conversation until he heard her. Yes, it was her voice and she was crying. Sometimes, he forgot about his new abilities. She sounded so broken that it hurted him even more and he began to reconsider her reaction. Maybe it was purely from shock and he overreacted because he was unable to accept what he became ? She saw his glowing eyes and didn’t run away, after all. It seemed like she was more accepting over him than he was toward himself. He then heard Dustin and Y/N talking about him and he listened to them while drying his tears in silence. He had to talk to her, he knew it. But how ?

Y/N’s POV

A few days passed since that night at the Hellfire Club and you were still haunted by Eddie’s pained expression when he flew away.You couldn’t blame him. He was so used to being the local freak that your reaction was really easy to misinterpret. You weren’t even shocked by the fact that he could fly. The only thing that mattered to you was that he was back and you really had to make it up to him. Now the question was how to find him again ? You had to think about all the places he loved. You laid a map on your desk and took a pen to mark those places at the dim light of your lamp. Of course, the trailer was the first option but you already knew that he was out of question, at least for now. Lovers lake ? 

Flashback

‘Eddie, please tell me where we’re going’ you pleaded, impatient. He patted your thigh affectionately with his right hand.‘Hush, sweetheart. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. Hey ! Don’t take your blindfold away !’ He said playfully, slapping gently on your hand. ‘Ouch ! Aren’t you supposed to keep both your hands on the wheel, Munson?’ You heard his laugh. A real joyful laugh.The kind of laugh you could kill for. ‘You know that I like a hint of danger in everything I do, right ?’ You scoffed. ‘Like that time you avoided going to the park because you were wary of that duck that seemed to “follow” you ? That’s your hint of danger ?’ His laugh resonated in the whole van. ‘Touché!  But what if it was a friend of the turkey we had for Christmas and it swore to avenge its feathered mate ?’ You almost choked. ‘What ? I don’t think it works like that, Eds’ ‘Would be epic, though’ and you both bursted into laughter. God, you were truly in love with him.’So, I suppose that there isn’t any suspicious duck in the area we’re going to ?’ ‘Woman, you’ll never let me live it down ! And I swear that the way it looked at me was far from friendly.’ ‘Now that you say it, it’s true that its quacks were very threatening. You probably should have brought him a handful of breadcrumbs as an offering.’ ‘I know you’re rolling your eyes under the blindfold, Y/N. Laugh all you want but I swear that ducks are dangerous.But anyway, we’re almost there.’ Even though you grew up in Hawkins and lived there your whole life, you couldn’t tell where Eddie was driving you. The only thing you knew was that you trusted this man with your life. So, a super late drive wasn’t something you were scared of. Suddenly, the van stopped. You heard Eddie opening his car door and running to open yours. ‘Princess’ he said solemnly while taking your hand in his to help you out of the car. You landed carefully on the ground and felt Eddie moving to place himself behind you. ‘I prepared something special for you, my dear, my darling dear.’ He said while taking your blindfold off. A midnight picnic at Lovers Lake. You were speechless. You just kissed his cheek. He smiled sweetly at you. He guided you toward the blanket on the grass and you saw that he brought all your favorite snacks. ‘I know it’s not much but I thought that you'd like to watch the meteor shower. I know how much you love the stars and I love the way your eyes sparkle everytime you see them.’ The look of pure love in his eyes made you melt. ‘Thank you Eddie, it means so much to me.’ ‘If I had to fight against the entire world for you, sweetheart, you know I would without any hesitation. Now let’s take place, it’ll begin soon.’ You both laid on the blanket, staring at the night sky. You spent an hour like this, laughing at any of your bad jokes without a care in the world. ‘And here, it’s Cassiopeia’ You pointed to the constellation to show him. Instead, he just looked at you. ‘What ?’ you ask with a light laugh. He looked you in the eyes. ‘Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are  and how much I love you ?’ You blushed heavily. ‘On a daily basis, but it always has the same effect on me. Did I ever tell you that I can only feel like myself when I’m with you ? I love you so damn much, Eddie Munson’  You said and he gently grabbed your chin to kiss you on the lips. ‘Look, Y/N! A shooting star ! Make a wish.’ He said excitedly.  It was your turn to look at him and you said tenderly ‘I don’t need this. I have everything I ever wished for’ and you kissed him. You could have sworn that there were tears in his eyes.This night ,you both fell asleep under the shooting stars.

End of Flashback

Suddenly, the images of the gate at the bottom of the lake came back. So you thought of another place. Skull Rock ?

 Flashback

‘So it’s the place Harrington claims to have made popular ?’ said sarcastically Eddie while pacing around. You always knew that he considered Steve like his rival and no matter what you or Dustin could say, it was useless to argue. ‘Do you think he sniff his ridiculous hair products to come up with such ridiculous ideas ?’ He said so naturally that it caught you off guard and you ended up laughing your ass off. ‘I must admit that I asked myself this question quite often.’ You replied, still laughing. You grabbed the hem of his denim jacket to pull him closer to you. He was caught off guard by your forwardness but didn’t complain. He quickly placed his warm hands on your waist and you approached your mouth to his ear. ‘But what about we don’t talk about him during our date ? I don’t want to think about anyone else other than you right now.’You whispered. Goosebump formed on his neck at the contact of your breath on his skin. A sly smile formed on his rosy lips. ‘As you want, love.’ He was about to kiss you but suddenly pulled away. When he saw your puzzled look, he said ‘ But first, let’s mark this place with our own signature.’ He then took his pocket knife and began to curve your initials into a nearby tree. ‘Is it a way to impress me or a romantic way to show me you own a knife ?’ You asked, raising an eyebrow. He just slightly turned his head in your direction. ‘I don’t know. Is it working ?’ ‘Yes to both.’ you replied with a smirk. His smile grew bigger. Once he was done, he came back next to you. That night, you made plans for your shared future. Even if everything was uncertain in life, you knew for sure that you were each other’s constant and that no matter what you’ll stick together through thick and thin.

End of Flashback

You suddenly remember how you had to run and hide to get there safe and sound before Dustin and the others found you there. That’s how fast a life can explode. You then thought about  Reefer Rick’s house. 

Flashback

‘I’ll stay with Eddie.’ You said firmly. Eddie was panicked. ‘No, you can’t do that. It’s way too dangerous. What if Jason finds us ? What if he hurt you ? No, nope, Y/N. You have to go with them.’ You took his hand in yours and you got away from others. ‘Remember when we promised each other to always stick together through thick and thin ? That’s the moment to hold my promise. We’ll go through this together, we’ll prove that you are not a murderer and we’ll get out of here alive, okay ? Remember that I am your Sam and you are my Frodo ?’ you whispered while putting your forehead against his. His desperate glance almost made you cry. ‘Okay, but if things get out of hand, run and don’t turn back.’  you looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Okay’ All the others eyed you in a weird way but you didn’t care. When you were finally alone, you did your best to reassure him, hold him like there was no tomorrow and even made new plans just in case.          

 End of Flashback

Every single one of these places held terrible memories but at the same time, were isolated enough for him to hide. You couldn’t think straight, it drove you insane. The only thing you were sure of was that it needed to be after the sunset. Eddie was still wanted by the police and with his new condition, he probably couldn’t stand the sun anymore, right ? You took your head in your hands and sighed rather loudly. How to handle this ? You wished you could tell someone but it wouldn’t change a thing. It was between Eddie and you, it was your secret.You’d do anything for him, even dying if you had to. You know it sounded super cliché, straight out of a bad teenage book. But it was sadly for real.You were zoning out, your pen hanging in the air when something caught your attention. There were weird noises outside. You got up and walked to your window to check the yard. Goddamn, you didn’t even realize that the night fell completely and since you were all alone in your house, you had to be more careful. You then carefully reach your baseball bat just in case and put it near your bed. You were exhausted, it was way too late to put your plan into action. So you decided to go to bed. You went to the bathroom, brushed your teeth and put your pajamas on. Even that tired, you couldn’t take Eddie off your thoughts. Once inside your bed, you pulled the sheets on you and grabbed Eddie’s teddy bear just to have his scent with you. 

Eddie’s POV

 After his break through the gate, he had to run and hide.For all this time, he had to hide in Reefer Rick’s house since it was basically abandoned. He was reluctant at first and he had every reason. He hid there not so long ago, after all. When he got there, nothing had changed since the last time. It was like stuck in time. He hated this place but it was for a bit some kind of safe haven. His solitude drove him insane . How he wished for you to be with him ,just to reassure him. To tell him that everything will be okay. Also, his powers were slowly driving him crazy. He could hear every single tiny animal on the walls of the house. Last night, he heard a mouse licking its fur and it was one of the most irritating sounds ever. He could tell, he was in Mrs Click’s class after all. He was also hungry but he truly doubted that a simple can of food would suffice. No he needed something else and he knew that it was blood. He read enough lore books to know that he became a vampire. He didn’t want to hurt any living creature but the hunger would soon take the upper hand, he knew it too.

After his encounter with Y/N the other day, it took everything in him to not run away from town. But he couldn’t do it. She was here and he couldn’t abandon her like that, even though it would be for her own good. Or was it for his ? He was lost. Everytime he thought about her, it was like his heart beated again. She fueled most of his thoughts and when he managed to fall asleep, she was in all his dreams. Dreams where everything was like before, just him and her on the roof of his van, singing songs offkey. Or just doing something very domestic like buying the groceries with her in the cart and him pushing it to make a race against the other customers. But everytime he  awoke, the new reality he was in fell on him again. It was like waking up in a nightmare everyday.It took him days to decide whether he should go find her or not. He owed her a proper explanation, even though he wasn’t sure to fully comprehend the situation himself. One minute dead, the next alive with weird sensations. How was he supposed to explain it ?

The only way was to go to her place to hopefully find her. He had to wait for the night to fall. Everytime a new idea came to his mind, he was clouded with doubts. Maybe he really ended up in Hell ? Maybe all the locals were right about him ? He took his head in his hands and tried his best to control his flow of emotions. Not only his senses were enhanced but his emotions were stronger than before too. Before he left the house, he wanted to check his reflection to see if he was as monstrous as he thought he was. Y/N seemed to recognize him right away but she got a bit scared. He must be a sight to see, freakier than before. He suddenly surprised himself wondering whether he had a reflection on the mirror or not. He somehow managed to avoid them at every cost for the past few days.The only way to know was to check it. He made his way to the nearest bathroom. The mirror was just here. He wanted to see but was also scared, he wanted to turn his back but he had to know. He carefully made his way to it, as if he was walking in the middle of a minefield. He closed his eyes and breathed as deep as he could. After a few minutes, he risked one eye open and what he saw was outstanding. He remained mostly the same but his eyes glowed with a pale shade of purple and god, he was so pale. He brought one of his sharp fingers to his mouth to lift his upper lip. His fangs were sharper than he thought. He then checked his ears. He had elven ears now. If the situation wasn't this serious, he would probably think that it was pretty cool, but it wasn’t. Now that he knew how he looked,  he felt ready to go see her. He made his way out of the house and once on the threshold, he spread his bat-like wings and flew away. During his night fly, he couldn’t help but fidget with his rings. He was so nervous, he couldn’t help it.He also thought about the way he’ll tell you everything. He was so scared. To calm himself a bit, he took a look beneath him. Hawkins almost looked charming from above. It took him a good ten minutes before he saw her house. Crap ! He forgot about the trees around it. He wasn’t used to flying between the trees yet. He made his way as carefully as he could, avoiding everything easily. ‘It wasn’t that hard after…AAAAAAAHHHHHH!’ he didn’t see the branch and took it right in the face. He fell with a loud crash on Y/N’s roof. ‘I’m fine.’ he murmured for himself. Better eyesight, my ass.

Y/N’s POV

You were finally dozing off peacefully with your bear in arms.’AAAAAAAHHHHHH!’ and a loud crash on your roof completely woke you. You jumped out of your bed with your bat in hand. You made your way to your window just at the moment Eddie appeared before your eyes. You screamed, making him scream a little too. ‘Y/N ! It’s me, calm down’ You clutched your heart. ‘Eddie, you scared me.’ You noticed the twigs and the leaves in his hair. ‘What was all that noise ? What happened on the roof?’ He laughed a bit. ‘ Well, let’s say that I’m not used to those wings yet and that there are too many trees around your home, Y/N. Can I come in, please ?’ He said with his habitual joy. For a split second, it was like before, like nothing happened. ‘Sure. Come in.’ He entered and looked at you. Without thinking, you took him in your arms. He was a bit stiff at first but soon melted into the embrace. That’s the moment you noticed how cold he was. ‘I’m so sorry for the other night, Eddie. I wasn’t scared of you. I just realized that you became a vampire, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you so much.I wanted to find you. I have so many questions and I don’t know…’ He carefully took your chin between his fingers to make you look at him.’ It’s okay. I love you too, Y/N. I’ll answer as best as I can.’ He had tears in his eyes, just like you. You mutually wiped each other’s tears and you took his hand to guide him toward your bed. He sat and he gazed at his bear. ‘You stole Ronnie ?’ he asked with a small smile. ‘He felt alone without you, so I thought that I’ll keep him with me.’ He took the bear on his lap and began to play a bit with it. You knew he did that when he was nervous. ‘Okay, where do I begin ? Well, I died in your arms and…

Eddie’s Flashback

I woke up with a start. It took me several minutes before I could get up. ‘Y/N ? Dustin ? Is anyone there ?’ I screamed at the top of my lungs. Where are they ? What happened ? I was now all alone in there and my body felt weird. My eyesight was weird, a bit blurry and all the noises of the Upside Down were unbearable. Was it a migraine ? No, something was off. And I felt something on my back. Weird excroissances full of membranes. It spread suddenly. Wings ? Am I in Hell or something ? Maybe I can escape by the gate in the trailer ? I practically ran inside and bolted in the living room. 'Goddamnit ! Jesus H.Christ !’ I screamed when I realized that the gate was closed. I was stuck there. My mind was racing. ‘Think ,Munson. Think. What would Dustin or Y/N do in this situation ? I could try to touch a lamp or something to signal my presence ? Yes !’ Complete silence. No one there. ‘Maybe I should stay here for a bit.’ That’s what I did, but I became bored out of my mind. All I could think about was Y/N and all my other loved ones. Were they okay ?. After a few days, I ventured outside. Every single thing was a mortal trap here. I had to run back like crazy inside. I then tried to control my wings a little. Every night, I could faintly hear my uncle crying. I ran to the lamp next to the couch and touched it. ‘Damn, this lightbulb is all new.’ I heard him say. I broke down completely. It was hopeless. For the following days, I kept throwing myself on the ceiling, trying desperately to open it. One night, I heard her. She was talking to Wayne. I had to break through but I was exhausted. Then, she seemed to go into my room. It was my chance. I took all my strength and jumped. It was such a weird sensation. I fell on the ground super hard but I ran before she could see me. The temptation to see her was so strong that I went under my room window to see her again. I could smell her perfume from here. My wings decided that it was the perfect moment to act up and the gust of wind it provoked opened my window. I had to run right now. I ran like a maniac in the forest, hearing, seeing and smelling everything in there. Then I stumbled on Reefer Rick’s house.

End of Eddie’s Flashback

Eddie’s POV

Tears had formed on his eyes. ‘Oh Eddie !’ said Y/N, taking him in her arms. She understood. That’s why he loved her so much. ‘I don’t fully understand, I just know that I’m not dead anymore.’ He was so confused but relieved to share it with someone. He took her hand in his cold one. ‘For all that time, I thought that I was sent to Hell. Now that I’m here with you, I feel better.’ She caressed his cheek with her fingertips. ‘Through thick and thin, remember ?’ He felt guilty. ‘About that. Now that I explained everything to you, I think I should go back to the Upside Down.’ He broke him to say it out loud. ‘What ?’ she said with a shattered voice. ‘I know, princess. But I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here. The police still think that I’m a murderer and I am a vampire now. I know that most girls think it’s sexy, but I don’t want this life for you.’ Y/N tried to get closer to him, to cling to him. It broke his heart even more but he had to do it. ‘We can run away, change our names, go somewhere no one knows us. Please, Eddie. I don’t care about the consequences. It’s you and me. I’ll follow you.’ God, it was so hard. Maybe if he behaved like a jerk, she would let go and go on with her life. Sure, she’ll cry but soon, her heart will heal and she’ll forget about him.He never felt so bad in his life. She deserved a life, a good one. Something he could no longer give to her. He couldn’t live with himself knowing that he screwed her life that way. He felt her arms on his torso going tighter to not let him go. ‘I know we had plans, Y/N. But this changes everything. This isn’t a movie or a game. It’s real ! ‘ He gently untangled her arms, got up and began to raise his voice, feeling worse and worse at each word. ‘I’m a criminal in this people’s eyes. Is it really the kind of life you aspired to ?’ she swallowed thickly. ‘The only life I aspire to is with you, Eddie. We’ve been through so much, I don’t see how it’s an obstacle.’ She was now crying, he was about to himself but he had to hide his tears.’ I’m sorry, Y/N. But I can’t.’ He reached his pocket and took a tiny box out of it. ‘Was supposed to pop the question on graduation day at first. Then Vecna appeared and I had to reschedule it to the night of the battle. Didn’t have the time. But I guess that I don’t need it anymore’ He placed the box on her desk. She was speechless. He could read the pain on your face. He wanted to run to her and kiss her but he couldn’t. He just jumped off the window and flew. He could hear her heartbreaking cries in the night. During his flight, he cried like he never cried in his entire life.He was a monster in every sense of the word, but he had to do it. He lost the love of his life and it was his bad. He really hoped that he wasn’t immortal or something.

Y/N’s POV

You lost him again. You lost him again ! You wanted to scratch your face. He wanted to marry you and now he left you like that. Deep down, you knew that he did it on purpose just to make you forget him. But how ? It was one of the most great act of love someone ever did for you. It was so selfless. You saw all the unshed tears in his eyes. You had to find him again. You were so overwhelmed that you had to hold on to something to not fall. With a shaky hand, you grabbed the black velvet box on your desk. The ring inside was a perfect replica of his mood ring. You completely crumbled on the floor and cried for hours on end.

A/N: I’ll probably do a part 3

@thefangirlsblog   @jssmth5 

[mindyourownbiscuitss]

As promised here’s my long Brettsey post, because Chicago Fire pulled me back in despite my hesitancy. 

Okay, to start with, I’m probably somewhat delusional, but that didn’t feel like an open-ended storyline nor closure. It felt like an opening for either a recurring role for Jesse next season or a Kara exit. 

They had two chances to give Brettsey closure. At the end of season 10 at the Stellaride wedding and this last episode. Neither happened. Everyone was worried they’d have Matt say that he was happy for Sylvie in her new “serious relationship”. And that he was happy in Portland. Which was totally implied in the season 10 finale. Either they threw that in for the drama of it all or the writers now know something they didn’t know at the time. 

Thinking back to Jesse’s exit interviews and Haas talking about the long distance problems and obstacles, it feels like this was maybe somewhat planned out. Outside of the little things like Sylvie losing her phone for a bit in an episode and her and Matt not being able to catch each other at the right time, there weren’t very many obstacles for them in season 10. She went to visit him twice and only when she came back the second time did the problems start to show. Then they broke up in the season 11 premiere. And honestly what main Fire couple hasn’t broken up at least once for the drama? Brettsey’s was different because Jesse left right after they got together. Also, as the anon brought up earlier, Jesse even said he’d pop in once Sylvie got in a new relationship and look what happened, lmao. 

Now to the episode itself. Despite how sad the ending was, it gave me more hope than 10x05 did. Which, tbf, while I was more than happy they decided to try the long distance thing, I knew it’d be unlikely to be successful in the long run. They could have used this opportunity to give Brettsey real closure like Haas was trying to do in 9x15 for D@wsey. He just couldn’t get Monica back so he had to improvise by having Matt say he wasn’t in love with her anymore after the phone call. That they weren’t in love with each other anymore. Matt all but admitted he couldn’t move on because he was still in love with Sylvie to Stella.  That’s a big parallel to season 9 when he said being with other people makes it worse. He didn’t have that problem when he hooked up with the reporter after his divorce. Why go this route if there’s no plan to get them back together? I mean I know the Fire writers are cruel but they’re not stupid. Or that stupid anyway. And Sylvie? Poor Sylvie. I think they captured it perfectly. She thought she was moving on until she saw Matt again. Then after the hug? That was it. She knew she wasn’t over him. Showing her crying? Weirdly enough gave me hope. This is all leading somewhere because the easiest thing would have been to give them closure. 

This is leading to one of two things, I think. Matt coming back via a recurring role for Jesse. Which seems like the more likely scenario considering the other hints we got with Matt telling Boden that Chicago was home and that a few things had to fall in place to come back, etc. Plus Jesse talking about wanting to come back for appearances but not full time. They could easily have him in a handful of episodes and make it work. Second thing would be a Kara exit. Yes, they’ve written it as she didn’t want to leave for another guy and Chicago is her home. But Matt isn’t just a guy. He’s the love of her life (thank you Wolf Entertainment Twitter for admitting that) and she’s obviously not happy without him. They could have her expand paramedicine out to Portland and become a paramedic out there. She wouldn’t be giving up her career and life for someone else. She’d just be changing location. But this really does feel like more of a set up for a Matt comeback on a part time basis. 

Anyway, I’m preparing to be a clown about all of this. 

[inkribbon796]

Egotober 2023 Day 28: Something Weird, and It Don't Look Good

Day 28: Something Weird, and It Don’t Look Good [COMPLETED]

Summary: Logan’s bad day gets a little weirder at the base.

A/N: Happy birthday to Natemare

WARNING for use of a Lockdown in this fic. No harm comes to anyone. But I just thought I'd warn people.

Title is taken from the lyrics to the Ghostbusters Theme Song.

Prompt: Ghost

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Princey and Iridescence — Roman and Thomas — were in the base. They were hanging out and doing homework and waiting for orders before going on a short patrol or to go home.

They were just hanging out for the most part, until Logan stormed in while they were talking.

And he seemed pissed, even while wearing his costume. He got to his locker in record time and opened it with his watch before throwing his bag in.

Roman and Thomas just stared at Logic as he stared at his open locker.

“Hey, uh, you okay man?” Thomas asked, half turned around to look at the other apprentice.

“No,” Logan said. “I had plans, and they got ruined.”

“Maybe we can hang out afterwards,” Roman said, which sounded like the furthest thing from what Logan wanted to do. He wanted to see his brother. But his brother wasn’t allowed visitors. They wouldn’t tell Logan why, just that he’d been barred from having them.

“No,” Logan said.

“Rude,” Princey said.

Before either of them could give another barb, all the lights went out. Metal vent shields went up on every window and in front of the door. Emergency lights were the only thing lighting up the room.

“Bing?” Logan tried to open a communication with the hero but he didn’t get anything.

Roman and Thomas looked around.

Then Bing’s voice came over the speakers. “Emergency Lockdown has been engaged. Villain activity detected near the perimeter.”

Bing shot through one of the speakers, he looked over them. “Three, great. So, we have a bit of a situation. This place is in lockdown and we need you three to sit tight. We told your folks already that you three are safe. Just stay here. We’ll get a hero back in here soon.”

Then Bing was gone and the apprentices were left in the room.

“Oh. Great.” Roman said as he looked around. “What do you think it was?”

“Obviously not something actively breaking in, or Bing would have stayed,” Logan said.

And then a table flipped up right in front of the three of them. The apprentices jumped.

Roman froze, “Caesar’s ghost, this place is haunted.”

“Ghosts don’t exist, ghosts are just bored demons,” Logan said.

“How would you know, how many demons have you met?” Roman asked.

“I’ve met enough,” Logan said.

All the empty lockers opened and closed and Logan froze.

Marvin had been in here, he wouldn’t just let a ghost just exist in the base . . . Right?

Logan immediately shot one of his improvised EMP blasts from his suit’s wrists towards the lockers. But there was nothing there.

“Woah! What was that?” Roman and Thomas flinched as light and electricity arced off of Logic and shot off towards the lockers.

“An EMP, I designed it to counter Anti and other demons like him,” Logan said.

“Does it work against ghosts?” Thomas asked.

Logan sighed. “Yes it would work on something you would call ghosts.”

“Can you track the ghost?” Roman asked.

“Hardly,” Logan said. “I have lots of gadgets but never the thing I need.”

“That just means you’ll have more things if you do need them, I think that’s pretty neat,” Princey said.

Logan paused. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, it’s true,” Roman said.

Logan opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. Not sure what to say. Then, “That’s possibly the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Roman looked so offended, so Logan went back to watching the room.

Finally Logan spotted movement in the low light and shoved Princey out of the way to shoot at it. The thing that had been on the couch suddenly became visible as it lit up with electricity.

It was Mare.

The demon barely held itself together as the EMP pulse passed. “What the fuck!”

“We thought you were a ghost,” Thomas said.

“What is wrong with you three?” Mare floated over. “I was just watching you three and you shoot at me.”

“In our defense you were invisible, flipping over tables, and opening lockers,” Logan said.

Mare shrugged, “Alright I was trying to scare you a little, but I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known that you could shoot at me.”

The demon turned to Thomas, and smiled at him. “Hey there, kid, Nate around?”

“Uh,” Thomas stalled, looking around the base. “No, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for Nate, he gave me the slip,” Mare said. “So I came over here and Bing told me to watch you three.”

“Oh,” Logan said. “Makes sense I suppose. Strange they would ask a demon.”

Mare looked particularly upset. “Nate threatened to kick me off his tours if I let anything happen to you three. And his tours are the only things he’s useful for. So guess I’m a babysitter now.”

Mare sat back down on a couch and just sat there until the lockdown began to disengage and Bing came in to check on them. All three of them were taken home one at a time. Roman continued to smile and talk to Logan for a reason that Logan just couldn’t understand.

Logan returned back to his home, becoming upset again about why he couldn’t see his brother. About what had happened with Dante and how upset he was. Bing eventually came by to check on him again. To talk and to tinker with some equipment.

Maybe if Logan just worked on something he’d get his mind off things. He certainly hoped so.