#villain wrangler au

[autumnmobile12]

My Hero Academia AU: I Know How It Works

An Ambush Simulation Sequel. Minor trigger warning for self-deprecating PTSD references.

Legend has it Mr. Compress still can't find his way out of the woods. But give him credit for calling for help even though he knew Dabi was probably gonna be an ass about it.

Aizawa was my favorite part of drawing this one.  Dabi may not be a villain in this AU, but he’s still an exhausting person to deal with, and the job seems to have been once again delegated to the usual crazy person wrangler.

"Kid, who hurt you? Give me a name."

...

If you missed Part 1 of Ambush Simulation and are confused about the orange fire instead of the blue, Dabi has gone and turned the temp down for the purposes of not being identified.

The relative humidity and the soil moisture are both factors that affect forest fires. Happy, hydrated plants don't burn easily.

There is also a method to the madness behind the forest fire aside from scare tactic.  After UA’s summer camp, the Wild, Wild Pussycats are planning on hosting a class on forest restoration after wildfires for people with plant-based Quirks.  So they were planning on burning part of the forest down anyway.

...

Aizawa:  So…your brother——

Shouto:  What I can tell you is he has no fear, no sense, and no restraint, but otherwise my oldest brother is an enigma my family has given up on trying to understand, and it’s probably best if the rest of the world follows our lead.

[kittycatcomander]

AU where SBI are villains, and Kristin is the villain wrangler making sure all the kids who get counseling in her office get a chance to meet who ever they want, even if they’re wanted dead by the hero commission.

Cue meet-cute(?) between Kristin and Phil, where she spends weeks tracking down the infamous “ Crowfather, killer of heroes and hater of the system” because some little kid wanted see him, and she stands tall and totally not terrified (/s) on a rooftop waiting for him.

And Phil is faced with this woman who spent hours and hours researching his routines not to arrest him but to let a little kid meet him, and he just falls for her.

So they exchange numbers, and everytime from there on out when Kristin has a kid who wants to meet The Blade or Orpheus or Nemesis she just casually shoots THE TOP VILLAIN a message, internally screaming, while Phil is kicking his feet on the air like a stereotypical teenager everytime his phone dings with a personalized ringtone.

Hero!Dream: I have finally confronted you, doer of evil! Today, our fight will be legend-

Crowfather!Phil: wait pause mate- OMG ITS HER 🥰🥰

Hero!Dream: wait wha-

Technoblade: I’ll take it from here

And so begins her getting really casual about the fact she personally texts the top villain.

I’m imagining some side stuff where she meets Tommy, a sidekick in desperate need of help (which she’s happy to provide), and a few others who’s relationship evolves with her over time.

Kirstin when first meeting the Blade: hooooooly smokes this guy is Dangerous, but if the kid wants to meet him… I’ll be prepared

Techno: uhhhhhh (struggling to interact with the receptionist, holds kids and swings them around gently like planes, lets them win fake fights)

Kristin: ok wait he’s like seven shaking puppies built like a brick house

She and Phil talk more and more as the arrangement continues, about everything and eventually life, and things shift from there. The first time that a villain tries hurting one of the kids also shifts their relationship…. especially since Kristin handles it as efficiently as she does.

There’s more, but in this AU I imagine Kristin to have a super dangerous power of her own (unregistered because teehee) that motivated her to work with troubled youth in need of help and kids working with a limited lifespan. I want her to be OP but just friendly and downplaying her ability since she was never in a situation to use it to the full extant.

Also there’d obviously be a CrimeBoys plot and adoption of Tommy into the family (bye bye Dream) which leads to her getting invited over to like. Family dinners and stuff, where the interactions are all completely cute and normal but undercut by her perspective reminding her of crimes they’ve all committed. Like-

“Phil, who had the most beautiful eyes but hands stained with the blood of approximately 3,791 people, passed her the salad with a bright smile. His son(?) continued the story of how he met a new friend. Kristin wasn’t sure if the story was in or out of masks, and she was scared to ask at this point.”

I especially want her to and Phil to reflect the two main approaches to changing the world, where you could either completely destroy the system in place (villains, anarchy) and forcefully restart, or you could tackle an issue at its lowest (if the world is full of corrupt people, change the people from a young age)

[mleemwyvern]

Vote TangoTek for MCYTblr Sexyman!

- the personification of a cartoon villain

- evil dungeon master (twice)

- fandom assigned Creature

- team rancher

- so much fanart that makes people go feral

- orange cat energy

- makes so so many Noises

- probably bites

- makes death games for fun

- pro ravager wrangler

- have yall SEEN the fanart

- ice and fire. hes got range.

- is so good for angst and drama in aus but in canon he is just a silly

- ok yeah he definitely bites

- i have seen so much variety in tango designs and the only constant is that none of them are human

- and we love a creatureguy here on tumblr!

- constantly on the verge of a villain arc and would probably do one if he wasnt so busy constructing and maintaining massive deathtrap minigames

- hes insane

[darklight-owl]

Man I love your Villain Flora AU sm...!! Let Flora kill ppl!!

Speakofwhich, how would you compare her first kill with her last as part of the Bison Wranglers? :)

AAAA OMG YAY :D I'm glad you like it uwuwu

Tbh I say "Let Flora kill ppl" but she tries to avoid killing whenever she can. She's got very good aim and can usually immobilize people without actually killing them and uses that to avoid getting a Higher Body Count.

I haven't scripted a lot of BW scenes (consequence of splitting my attention between this, CoU and uni *cries*) but I'm thinking her first kill would be something out of impulse that would take a while for her to get over. Then she'd decide she doesn't want to do it anymore and try to look for non-lethal solutions to things which is when she starts actually pitching in with her ideas for operations (and as a result starts climbing the ranks bc they work)

Obviously murder is easier when she's not the one doing it so her last kills (if there are any) would be carried out by subordinates when she's already Commander. As shown later on she really does not have the strength to shoot someone point blank. She's not completely cold-hearted by the time Layton gets to Steam Bison, she just does what she's been convinced needs to be done.

[fuckyeahdarcylewis]

working title: Darcy the Villain Wrangler

by gladheonsleeps

a little bit of work on writing a tasertricks fic inspired by that ancient tumblr post

Words: 2809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of EVIL AUTHOR DAY

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Darcy Lewis, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Loki (Marvel)

Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Loki

Additional Tags: villain wrangler au, ancient props, written in a nicer time, Pre-Relationship, Evil Author Day 2023, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued

from AO3 works tagged 'Darcy Lewis' https://ift.tt/NfIhKyw via IFTTT

[omniscientreaderr]

hi! need input lol i found out about the villain wrangler au and got so inspired :) haven't actually written in a hot 5 years but apparently i can bang out 1.1k words for a story but not my homework :" i actually wanted to write more but didn't know if it be offensive in any way. so yes input thank you - be kind djfkdkke I'm scared but I'm really open to feedback :)) ok dankes to whoever actually sees this! have a great day

- (this is after the VW gets saved, and the one that saved him is meeting to give the girl a pep talk) -

The villain shuffles into the hospital, meeting with the eyes of the VW as he glances up from his clipboard.

VW: “hey! Thanks for saving me the other day :) appreciate it! You ready to meet the girl?”

B: “yeah…as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess? What am i suppose to say? I don’t do fancy motivational speeches like that captain, I don’t know how i’m supposed to encourage and help her…she’s going to be insecure, she’s going to be wallowing in a pit of uncertainty over whether she’s ever going to be…accepted. How am i supposed to help a girl with that?!”

The VW looks over at him with a gentle smile, steering B into a nearby seat, setting his clipboard on the nurse’s tray next to them.

“Hey. Hey. The fact that you know how she will feel, the fact that you worry about whether you can help her, is all that matters. You don’t need fancy words designed to psychologically rouse the masses - i personally have always found them pretentious - you just need to tell her what you’ve always wished to hear. Speak from the heart. Words really don’t come easy, but the rawest, most truthful and touching ones are those that come from the place of absolute vulnerability. Words from the mind, touch the mind. But words from your heart? They touch the heart.” He laughs, taking a pause. “Honestly, I could go on a whole spiel about why is it the speeches of villain appeal to the masses, and how they always gain so much support. You’ve got this.”

B simply nods, giving the VW a small smile, before resuming chewing on his bottom lip. Standing outside the girl’s door, he lifts his hand to knock on the door, before dropping it again. He pauses, leaning backwards against the adjacent wall. “What am I doing? Me? A fuckin pyromaniac helping a little girl? Heck, I can do fighting that obnoxious righteous moral spewing jackass in tightey-whiteys. I can do getting dropped from 10 stories. I could even do pickin up ladies with just my words. But this? No. No way in hell am i walking in there, just to disappoint that kid.”

He walks away, ready to tell the VW that sorry to disappoint, but he couldn’t do this.

The door to the room swings open, a nurse bustling out with her cart. He presses himself against the corner, hiding from the view of the nurse. He glances over, catching sight of a tiny, fragile girl in that all-too-big white sterile room, sitting up on her bed with a sad smile on her face. The door closes all too soon, but that sparks something inside him. He walks towards her door and knocks, as if guided by some impulse, a duty towards this little child.

“Come in! Did you forget something, R? I promise you that if it’s your stethoscope it’s gone!”

He takes a step in, still shrouded in the darkness that the entryway is covered in.

“OH! Hello! Are you lost? Do you need help getting somewhere?”

She beams at him, turning her body slightly to see him, and he sees it. He’s struck by the image of a child scarred across half her body, snaking past her uncovered arms and legs…and across her face, where a pure, warm and joyful smile sits.

He brushes his long fringe back and finds himself rolling up his long sleeves, almost unconsciously. For the first time, in possibly his whole life, he was willing to let someone see him. See him, with his scars on display, not hidden behind a mask, or his hair, or the long sleeves he always wore. He wanted someone to see him. He…wanted to let this girl know she was not alone, that she was not broken.

He stepped forward into the light, quirking his lips into an awkward, unsure smile.

“Hi, Emilia, I’m B, and a little birdie told me you wanted to meet me, so here I am.”

The child shoots upright, nearly clambering out of bed to rush to him.

(Ok she becomes quieter because the dialogue is meant to be poignant. The atmosphere is quiet. It’s two people reflecting, basking in the presence of the only person who understands their pain. There’s no need for pretences, to push the traits that make you likeable.)

Alarmed, he takes large strides to her bedside, catching her before she topples over, having gotten tangled in her blankets. He lifts her back up, before scratching his head, taking a seat next to her bed.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch you without your permission.”

The child says nothing, simply nodding her head excitedly, grinning at him. She reaches for his arm, and he places it in her open hand. It’s so tiny. She’s so small. She’s adorable.

She traces his scars, and he waits for the wave of insecurity to hit him. For the voice that urges him to pull back his sleeve and not let anyone see his wounds. But today, it stays quiet. She points to her own healing wounds from the grafting surgery, saying, “Same.”

Now that he’s near her, he’s hit by the full brightness of her smile, the enthusiasm at seeing him, the anticipation of what he would do or say, and something pulls at his heartstrings, and loosens the string of tension and worry that has been restricting his tongue.

“Sorry. I’m not very good at this, haha.”

He pauses. The child offers another encouraging smile, holding his calloused hands with both of her hands.

“I guess…I wanted to let you know that these scars don’t matter. They don’t. They don’t take away the warmth of your smile, the fact that you brighten up the day of everyone around you. They don’t…they don’t…take away your worth. Or any of your beauty. Fu- AHahah don’t listen to anyone who tells you this. It’s a long road, but you’re not alone.”

“Not alone”, the kid repeats. “Not alone”. He notices tears in her eyes, tears that he doesn’t realise are reflected in his own eyes, and he is struck by the comfort that he finds in them. He isn’t alone.

He wills his tears back, giving her a brighter grin. “Did you know that in some cultures, scars are actually seen as signs of bravery? The more you had, the more brave you were among the tribes. They were warriors, feared, esteemed, respected for their wounds. You must be a mighty fine warrior. I bow in your presence, my lady.”

Their peals of laughter reverberates through the ward, ringing in the ears of concerned nurses, hiding watery smiles, in the ears of the kid’s anxious parents, sobbing into each other. She’s laughing. She’s happy. Not those calculated smiles and calculated giggles that hide a lot of pain and insecurity, full of the desire to be…desirable, but one of pure joy. One, of a child rediscovering their youth.

(Unfin.)

[katiestkid]

Saw this on facebook, does this count as a villianwrangler au?

[dominoeswrites]

Patton the Villain Wrangler Chapter 17

Summary: The Brain continues his interrogation of Patton, and the Vigilante is not having it.

Warnings: mention of torture, death threats, ask to tag anything else

~~~

“You’re lying,” the Brain said.

“I- Why would I?”

“To protect him, perhaps. Maybe he threatened you.”

“No, I-”

“Yo Brain,” someone said, cutting Patton off.

“I told you not to interrupt, Morpheus.”

“Well there's a show on I think you'll wanna see.”

“What?”

Morpheus, a person with blond hair, a leather jacket, and dark sunglasses, walked over to a TV nearby and turned it on. Sure enough, there was the Vigilante on screen, standing in front of the Prince, who was attached to some sort of machine. The Brain glanced at Patton, grinning at the anguish on his face. He couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried.

“Who?” they heard the Vigilante say.

“Like I'd tell you.”

"Not your brother, the guy who threatened him."

"Again, like I'd tell you."

There was a second of silence before the Vigilante started asking questions again. The Brain turned back to Patton.

“Would you care to tell us who’s on the screen?”

“The Vigilante and the Prince.” Patton winced as he heard the superhero scream in agony.

“Very good, Patton. Now, care to tell us who is-”

“...the Brain permission to ask Patton about your identity,” came the Prince’s voice from the TV, causing them all to look at the TV again.

The Vigilante’s response was low, menacing. “Patton Sanders?”

They watched the Prince nod his head.

“Well, since you’re so eager to find out my secret identity, why don’t you tell us yours?”

“Roman. My name is Roman Sanders.”

The Brain whistled as the screen turned black. “Well, would you look at that. Your own brother let me do this.” He turned back to Patton, who was staring at the screen, horrified. The Brain looked at Morpheus with a smile. “Thank you for showing us that.

Morpheus nodded, smirking.

“So now that we know the Prince’s identity, why don’t you tell us-” the Brain was cut off yet again by Patton's phone ringing. The Brain sighed and took it out of the man's shirt pocket. “Can people stop interrupting?” He looked at the screen. “Someone named Virgil. Keep him quiet,” he said to Morpheus, who covered Patton’s mouth with their hand. The Brain answered, putting the phone on speaker.

“Hello?” he said, in an almost perfect imitation of Patton’s voice.

“Patton, thank god. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry, Pat. If I’d known…”

“Known what?”

“About your brother. I never would have-”

Patton bit the hand that was covering his mouth, causing Morpheus to shriek in pain.

“Virge, it’s not me! It’s-”

Morpheus covered Patton’s mouth again, this time with a cloth they found handy.

“Darn.” The Brains voice reverted to normal. “And he was doing so well.”

“Brain.”

“Yes. Now, unfortunately, I have to go.” The Brain hit end call and looked at Patton, then at Morpheus. “Do you think the Vigilante is done with his device?”

~~~

Roman walked into the kitchen only to see the Vigilante sitting on the counter.

“Haven’t you tortured me enough for one day?” he asked.

“Your brother just risked his life to save my identity.”

“So he does know?”

“That’s beside the point, Princey.”

“Why are you still calling me that? You know my name.” Roman sounded like he’d given up.

“Force of habit, I guess. But that’s not important. What is important is the fact that the Brain has Patton, and Patton just risked his safety for mine.”

“The Brain isn’t going to hurt him. I made him promise.”

“And since when does the Brain keep promises that don’t get him what he wants?”

“He won’t hurt him.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do, okay? You’ve already gotten most of my secrets today, let me have something.”

The Vigilante took a deep breath. He’d never seen anyone look so… broken. God, what have I done? “I- I’m sorry.”

“Sure.” Roman leaned forward on the counter, putting his face in his hands. “What am I going to do ?”

“About what?”

“About him . How will this affect our deal?”

“Your-” the Vigilante stopped, the Prince’s earlier words echoing through his head. He threatened to kill my brother . “The guy who threatened Patton,” he said quietly, trying to contain his rage at whoever would dare to even think about hurting his boyfriend.

Roman nodded, face still in his hands.

“What do you know about him?”

Roman rubbed his hands over his face. “Not much. I don’t know his name, and I’ve never gotten a good look at his face.

“About five years ago, he… I don’t know, I guess he… commissioned me to stop you. I told him no, at first."

The Vigilante snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m telling the truth. I didn’t agree with your methods, but overall, I thought you were wanting to do good.

“But when I told him that I wouldn’t, but he gave me evidence saying that you were falsely accusing good people. And I believed him. It was two and a half years before I started doing my own research. It was mainly to figure out how I could better protect those people, but I found out that some of the evidence he’d given me was extremely biased, if not blatant lies. I confronted him earlier this year about it, and he accused me of joining your cause.

“He called me back a couple of days after that. He told me that if I didn’t do my best,” Roman cleared his throat in an attempt to keep himself from crying. “If I didn’t do my best to stop you, he'd kill Patton."

The Vigilante closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "Take me to him."

Roman was about to respond when a beeping noise came from The Vigilante's pocket. He pulled out his phone, took one look, then said, “Suit up, we’ve gotta go.”

“What? I-” Roman stopped when the Vigilante showed him what was on his phone.

“I’ve got an intruder alert.”

“I’ll be right back,” Roman growled, turning toward his bedroom. When he came out, he was the Prince, ready for battle.

The Vigilante grabbed his arm, and transported them to his lair.

~~~

“Cold cold cold cold cold,” the Prince said as they came out of the shadows. The Vigilante ignored him, instead focusing on the Brain who was holding Patton right next to the torture device.

“Let him go, Brain.”

“Ooh, exciting! A supervillain and fallen hero crime-fighting duo! Hello, Roman. Hello, Vigilante.”

Patton hadn’t told yet. The Vigilante kept his relief to himself, instead focusing on his anger toward the Brain. “I told you to let him go.”

The Brain glanced at Patton and shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

Patton looked at the Brain in fear, causing Virgil’s heart to wrench.

“Fine! You guys want to know my identity so badly?”

“No! I’m not worth it,” Patton cried out. The Vigilante just smiled at Patton and summoned shadows to cover himself. When they dissipated, the Vigilante was gone, just a man standing there.

Virgil looked the Brain in the eye, hoping to convey every bit of hate he felt. “My name is Virgil Greene and I am the Vigilante. Now, for the last time, let go of my boyfriend.”

[briefmusicbouquet]

villian wrangler izuku AU :)))

toga probably ends up as one of the most popular villian visitors, especially for some of the older patients

but out of the league, spinner has the highest count of visit, since he looks like one of the main characters from an old pre-quirk cartoon that the hospital usually has playing

mini comic about toga, dabi, and shigaraki one upping each other and comparing how many requests they've gotten to visit kids at the hospital

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

3 Oct. Suptober: Rainbows

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

s15 au; deancas

In hindsight, Cas was preoccupied, not only by the task at hand but by the person he was undertaking it on behalf of, which was likely why he didn't realize he had company in the bunker kitchen until Sam said, "Hey, Cas," and Cas almost fumbled the glass into the sink. 

"Oof, sorry," Sam rushed to say next. 

His expression was a variety of things, none of which Cas clocked as fundamentally apologetic while he refilled the glass. 

Sam cleared his throat. "Whatcha doing?"

Cas squinted at him. Maybe Sam was drunk, or ill. "Just getting a drink of water." He left the statement there; Sam had seen him consume water before.

Sam fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt and did not look at Cas. "Sure. You." He made some kind of gesture with his hands that did not seem relevant to anything. "You seen Dean lately?"

"He's asleep," Cas offered, since he knew it to be correct.

"In his room?" Sam's voice cracked on the second word.

Cas drew out the word 'yes' into something of a question. What was Sam looking at on the ceiling anyway?

"His room. Which. You just left?" Sam bounced on the balls of his feet for a second.

Cas looked around for intruders, hex bags, strange fogs, spooky auras, blood stains, a bucket of empty beer cans -- something that might explain why Sam was speaking like someone who'd just learned English. 

"Yes, Dean's room." 

Cas suppressed a smile that wanted to surface as his thoughts quickly flitted to Dean -- Dean curled boneless beneath a body-warmed blanket, his eyelashes fanned dark against the tops of his freckled cheeks -- and back again. He sat the glass in the sink and stepped toward Sam carefully.

"Uh huh. Okay." Sam took a step backwards. His line of sight popped back up to the light fixture. "Wearing. ...What it is you're wearing?

Cas glanced down past his bare chest to the flannel covering his legs. "Pajamas?"

Sam nodded a series of tight little nods, like an invisible puppeteer controlling him was getting restless. "Okay. Okay. And Dean is." He didn't trail off as much as seem to run out of ideas for the rest of the sentence.

"Asleep," Cas reminded him. 

Another Sam nod. "Right." 

"He tends to fall asleep for a while within thirty or so minutes after we--"

"Dude," Sam said. 

Understanding clicked into place. "Ah. I apologize, Sam," Cas said, with a small sinking sensation in his stomach. "I did assume Dean had told you." 

He was leaving out some words, and he didn't mean to play coy; it just seemed like perhaps Sam would prefer fewer details over more with regards to -- how to say diplomatically? -- recent developments.

"Dean tell me? Really?" Sam stared at him directly for the first time the whole encounter. His pupils were big black dots reminiscent of the ones he'd had when they were all cartoons for a while.

"No." Cas paused. "But I did think maybe you just knew." 

An honest confession, since Sam, a skilled hunter with decades of experience beneath his proverbial belt, was often quite good at discerning patterns beneath the surface of verbal communication. Cas had not always been as certain of his own feelings as he was in the present. Indeed, it had taken years for what he felt for Dean -- unfamiliar, prismatic impulses occasionally strong enough to almost bring Cas to his knees -- to coagulate into something fierce and unshakeable that could in part be described in words, much less translatable to more tangible actions. Just because Cas had been slow to realize the depths of his own emotions didn't mean Sam had been.

Except.

Sam's eyebrows jumped into his hairline like worms fleeing chicken beaks. 

"What," he choked out. "Why. No. How would I have known about--" He was flinging his hands around again. "--This?" The hands flew toward Cas like Sam was casting a spell at him. "You are like my brother."

"Um," Cas said.

"And Dean is my brother."

"Uh--"

"And I have literally heard him refer to you as our brother."

"Right.”

"Like, we're all brothers here." Sam gave a helpless chuff of laughter.

"Okay."

"So you understand," Sam continued, "why I might be concerned that my two brothers are apparently sleeping together." The volume of his voice went lower in direct counter to its pitch by the end of the sentence.

Cas chose not to comment on this, nor on the shadow that lurked in the doorway and then dissipated. He said instead, "I don't really sleep all that much, but I take your point."

Sam buried his face in the palms of his hands. 

"I'm." Cas swallowed. He stood a bit taller, the way a soldier might when either respectfully yielding to an enemy or accepting that opponent's surrender -- not that Sam was a villain here. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Sam."

"It's." Sam took a deep breath, then coughed once. "You don't have to apologize."

"Sam, could you... There is nothing on the ceiling that could be that interesting."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Sam spoke like he meant it, or at least wanted to mean it.

Cas let out an inward sigh of relief. "All right."

"The stress," Sam said. "What we do. Monsters. Apocalypses, plural. It's-- I know it's a lot." Now he had slipped into hunter wrangler mode, all rallying the troops and leftover law school pragmatism. "And I can see how the two of you might, you know, need to blow off some steam. Sometimes."

"Sam--"

"Dean always does get a little antsy when he goes a while without." Sam shook his head like he'd realized this was absolutely not a topic he wanted to think about. "You know."

"Sam," Cas said sharply.

"I'll stop talking now."

"I'm in love with your brother, Sam." Those truest words were spoken so easily that once upon a time it might have bothered Cas; in the present, it assuredly did not. He let Sam gape for a moment and then softened the statement with, "It's not just a casual, friends with insurance sort of thing for me. For the record. If that helps."

Sam looked like the human equivalent of the little tri-colored beachball that would spin and spin onscreen when one of his computer tablets got overwhelmed. Finally, his eyes cleared. "All right." His mouth quirked. "The phrase is 'friends with benefits.'" 

Cas blinked. "Insurance is often a benefit extended to citizens in the United States, isn't it?"

"Less often than's helpful," Sam said.

Cas nodded. The two of them stood there by the sink, not really looking at each other. A thought came to Cas.

"I love you too--"

"Dude," Sam said.

Cas held up a hand. "--But I'm not in love with you." This distinction was one that had taken him a long time to understand; it seemed worth sharing.

The ceiling had recaptured Sam's fascination, but he was smiling when he said, "I know." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "I love you too."

Cas returned the smile. "You, and Dean, and Jack -- you are all my family."

"Yeah." Sam ducked his head, as if pleased. "Yeah, I know."

Cas picked the glass of water up out of the sink. He raised it to Sam in a small toast. "Okay. I'm going to go back to Dean's room now."

"'Night, Cas."

Cas padded back down the hallway, opened Dean's squeaky door, and crept inside the room. The bedside lamp had been turned on. He watched the blanketed lump in the middle of the mattress for movement before asking quietly, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it." Dean sat up and yawned. He scratched at the side of his head where his hair was sticking out. The blanket puddled below his pelvis. Cas glanced away like he hadn't personally and enthusiastically pressed those hipbones into the mattress less than an hour before.

When Cas walked around and put a knee on the bed, Dean said, "I also wanted water."

Cas bumped his arm with the glass. "This is for you."

"Oh," Dean said, taking it from him. "Thanks."

"Because I don't drink all that much water."

"Right."

"Because I don't sweat as much as you do."

"Hmm. You sweat some," Dean said, a hint of slyness in his tone. He leaned away to leave the water glass on the bedside table.

Cas sat on the edge of the mattress and let Dean scoot up to him. "Are you bragging about making me sweat?"

"Mmm," Dean said, splaying his hand over Cas's clavicle. 

"You should probably talk to Sam in the morning."

"This is the morning."

"Later, then."

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist like he owned the span of it. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Maybe you could just--

"Nooo." 

A sharpness tapped underneath Cas's ribcage, an angel blade's point pressed with deliberate aim. It took a minute before he could speak. He gathered his courage. "If you want to stop--"

"No." The word fell from Dean like Cas had knocked it out with his fist. His eyes were fever bright and anguished, and another, better ache flooded Cas's chest at the sight. "No."

"I am very much in love with you." Cas took a breath. "Sam's reaction, I know, wasn't entirely out of nowhere." 

Dean tipped his forehead to Cas's. "I don't think he was objecting so much as he was surprised--"

"I'm only saying, I have thought of you both as my brothers, at various times in the past." Cas studied, not for the first time, a collection of freckles on Dean's shoulder. "I still think of Sam as a brother, in a way. He may not be incorrect that the situation, as it has evolved, is something a bit… Atypical." He considered a further implication. "And each of us is one of Jack's dads."

Dean huffed, a bluff since his fingertips were memorizing Cas's vertebrae like he planned to sketch them later. "Well. We can't all be the goddamn Waltons, or whoever."

Cas agreed, "We definitely do not live on a farm." He let himself sway toward the ardent way Dean was looking at him. "It might be nice to live on a farm, with cows and ducks, maybe some sheep--"

"And I am very much in love with you too," Dean said softly. He pressed his lips to Cas's cheek.

"Yeah?" Cas's eyes felt hot.

"Yep."

Cas thought to say, "You know, Sam is exactly who you raised him to be: a good man."

At that, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "New rule," he said hoarsely after several seconds. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "We cannot talk about Sam, like. When we're not even dressed."

Cas stretched out his right leg and wiggled his foot. "I have on these pajamas pants. Can no-one else see them? They're covered in so many things."

This was an understatement. Technically, the pattern contained no less than the following items: rainbows, unicorns, blue whales, yellow stars, shield-wielding pugs, and anti-whale flags, whatever and why-ever those were. Put simply, the pajama pattern was like an indecipherable code of images that seemed to illustrate the illicit drug use of the manufacturer's designer.

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

Cas thumbed a spot on Dean's throat, his mouth going dry with the desire to taste the pulse fluttering there. "In my celestial wavelength form, I suppose I would be more closely related to a visually-deducible electromagnetic wave than I would be a pug riding a whale into glorious battle."

"These pajamas are a work of art," Dean contended, kissing Cas's temple. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I guess that story about God -- Chuck -- using a rainbow to seal a promise about never again destroying earth with a flood is just apocrypha, huh?"

Cas thought about it. "Yes. Unfortunately." He tried not to sigh. "Sometimes I have to remind myself Chuck created some beautiful wonders despite...being who he is."

"Yeah. Going out after a hard rain and seeing a rainbow's colors arching through the clouds -- still seems hopeful." Dean started pulling Cas down beside him on the mattress. "Maybe that's what reminds me of you."

Unable to speak, Cas tucked his face into Dean's throat. 

Dean's fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of the pajamas, ever so slowly. "Anyway, these are mine." Cas hummed an affirmative. "I would like them back," Dean said.

"Now?" Cas heard himself gasp.

Dean pressed him onto his back to nose his way down the line of Cas's breastbone, his warm breath teasing over cooled skin and coaxing out a shiver Cas felt splintering through his whole body. 

"I would settle for you just not having them on at the moment," Dean said, using both hands to reclaim his property, and before raising up to kiss anything Cas might have wanted to say in response entirely out of his mouth.

[justanotherlonelywritersposts]

Imagine If You Will...

An AU where the Avengers and co. are the crew of a Starfleet ship and go around causing absolute mayhem.

Seriously, think about it.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers of the USS Avenger, one of the youngest in the fleet, especially to command the Flagship of the entire fleet. Commander Sam Wilson as his First Officer and confidant. Commander Anthony Stark as the Chief Engineer, a former billionaire playboy and heir to a tech empire who joined the fleet to flip his dad the finger and found true purpose among his comrades.

Commander Bruce Banner as the mild mannered Chief Science Officer with hidden temper that got him thrown off more ships then he could count.  Dr. Stephen Strange as the CMO who was far too good at keeping people in the infirmary and lacked bedside manner. Lt. Commander Natasha Romanoff and Commander Clint Barton as a fearsome duo as the communications officer and pilot respectively, with Lt. Commander Jane Foster, an astrophysicist Bruce and Tony poached from a New Mexico lab.

Along with Jane came Darcy Lewis, the ships counselor/pseudo scientist wrangler. Steve’s never been happier now that the lab explosions have dropped by forty percent. And last but not least was Thor Odinson, the Chief Security Officer picked up from Asgard after Odin kicked him out. Steve and Sam met him on an away mission and adopted him into the crew.

And not just them either.

Scott Lang got thrown onto the ship for probation and the Avenger and her crew gave him the space to grow into an actual adult, he even became the 2IC of the engineering section and promoted to Lt. Commander. He, Tony, Jane and Bruce frequently make Steve and Darcy almost scream with rage a lot. Cassie now has a permanent guest room on the ship and Natasha keeps teaching her bad habits. He and Lt. Commander Hope van Dyne have a will-they-won’t-they thing going on and there are several bets made on it.

Ensign Peter Parker and Ensign Harley Keener were the babies of the ship, protected by all. The baby geniuses were the engineering sections’ pride and joy, Tony and Scott taking them under their wings. Harley got thrown out of his house and after Aunt May died, joining his parents and Uncle Ben, Peter joined the federation for lack of a better option. The two ensigns are best friends and mini terrors.

Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson are starfleet attorneys that are almost permanently assigned to bailing out the Avenger crew members when they get into trouble on shore leave

There’s so much potential. I can almost taste it. And I haven't even gotten started on the villains. Would anyone like to read a fic like this? Is there already a fic like this? If so please let me know!

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Full Team Rez

Full Team Rez by MixerMonochrome

When a villain attack happens at Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall, a green haired teenager takes a hit from multiple haywire quirks at once. The results are... unexpected, to say the least. After all, who could guess the overlapping quirks would summon seven strangers out of nowhere? All with the same quirk(s???) as the kid to boot!

Not anyone in the crowd, that's for certain.

Subliminal @sleeprocks -

Green kid just noticed the strangers and they're having a staredown. #awkward

Words: 3152, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Past One For All Users, Assorted OCs, Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Past One For All Users

Additional Tags: other assorted characters but tiny rolls, Social Media Fic, POV Outsider, resurrected ofa users, Crack, Quirk Shenanigans, Au from kiyashi ward, midoriya izuku unlocks the quirks early, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, afo has regrets, the commission has regrets, many ppl have regrets tbh, me though? I have 0 regrets, healed All Might, due to aforementioned shenaniganry, Feral Midoriya Izuku, look he has 7 assorted enablers and fun new quirks, he cannot be contained anymore, thank you tag wranglers i hope ur day is nice, as always lmk if there's smthng i could/should tag!

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149284

[gorogues]

one-rogue-army replied to your photo post This DC Super Villains book sounds like the "Villain Wrangler" concept could go canon? :)

It could, and that'd be great!  And even if it doesn't make its way into canon, the concept would work amazingly in gentle AUs like this one :)

secondratevillain replied to your photo post: Petition for Billy Hong to team up with Billy Batson and them curbstomp Neron together!

Your ideas are intriguing to me and I wish to subscribe to your newsletter :D  Yes please, they could be the best of friends!

purplecyborgnewt replied to your photo post: Did anyone write anything to Eobard? ("Dear Reverse Flash, I hate my parents"? Okay, preferably something less morbid...)

Oh no, he would have the worst advice :O

[ao3feed-todoroki]

The Real Hero

the real hero by moeblobmegane

“What do you want again? Sorry, I must have-” Shun, small and sickly, turning 7 years old next week, said, “I want to meet Mr. Shouto.” “The-” Izuku stuttered, unsure of what to do. “The villain?” “Yes,” Shun answered stubbornly. “He's the best.” (or Izuku is a make a wish foundation employee, and children apparently really likes villains)

Words: 5413, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Background & Cameo Characters

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Villain Todoroki Shouto, Make A Wish Foundation AU, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Alternate Universe - The Villain Wrangler Fusion

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628863

[veliseraptor]

A Decade of Fanfiction: 2009-2019

I’ve seen artists I know and love doing this, and I figured I’d self-indulgently make my own fic version of it. So: I’m choosing one fic a year for the last 10 years that I feel is somehow ~representative~ of that year.

I don’t know that I have any overarching observations, except that hopefully I got better over the course of these (I feel like I did) and I think my writing in general has...shifted in terms of focus. Earlier in the decade I wrote a lot of short pieces and character studies; also a lot of very dark and depressing endings. Moving forward I started picking up things with more plot, writing longer stories, writing series and multi-chapter things. 

And I also started ending my fics, generally speaking, on a more hopeful note. Still a lot of pain; still a lot of sorrow. But more and more, I tend to end on a note that says that if things aren’t perfect, if everything isn’t fixed, it is still better, and there might be brighter still to come. 

2009

The Damned, The Silmarillion. This was a year where I wrote a lot of short fic from a lot of different fandoms (A Song of Ice and Fire and The Silmarillion, mostly, though also Doctrine of Labyrinths). This was my first long, multi-chapter fic I actually completed - the AU where Curufin dies after they leave Nargothrond, and Celegorm goes off the rails. I have no idea how well it would hold up - I haven’t reread it. Though someone did make art of it (cw: horror) only four years ago, so it must at least have some good bits in there.  

2010

The Sky Is Darkening Like a Stain, Supernatural. I thought about picking one of my Death Note fics (this was a year of Death Note) as the fandom with my first real hero/villain slash ship, but this was the year where Supernatural started to make an appearance (late in the year - the first fic I have is from September 2010). It’s also the first Sam/Lucifer fic I wrote, which feels significant.

I did also consider a number of “fics where the main character dies at the end” because I wrote a lot of those both this year and next year. It tapers off later on, but boy, did I love killing my own favorite characters and/or writing about their canonical deaths.

2011

Silver Glass, The Silmarillion. This felt in some ways like a year I should have chosen a Supernatural fic, since this was a year when Supernatural by far dominated what I was writing. But I’m going with this one, because it was my first ever foray into second person, and it’s a weird little fic stylistically speaking that shows me starting to experiment a little more. (The date on AO3 for this one is 2012; I’m going from the FFN date, which was the original posting.)

2012

I heard you killed your only friend last year, MCU. This was the year the MCU showed up, and there are a lot of candidates I could have chosen for this one - I almost went with Life in Reverse (still might, for the year it’s finished) but ultimately...this fic was never meant to be the first installment in a series that is now 800,000+ words and still going, seven years later, but here we are. It almost never got posted. 

This was hard, though! This was also the year of Curufin/Finrod becoming a thing, of Clint/Loki, of some of my last really brutal major character death fics. But ultimately this has to go to recognizing the beginning Remember This Cold.

2013

Perdition, MCU. After waffling around with a couple others, I realized that it had to go to this one, because @portraitoftheoddity and I might never have met without it - specifically, without the fanart she made for it that very much caught my attention and got us talking. For that reason alone, I’m calling this the most significant fic of 2013.

2014

Road to Nowhere, MCU. Oh, yes, a classic in the Lise genre of “awkward road trips forcing characters to talk about their feelings, eventually.” I considered one of the two major character death, hella bleak fics I wrote this year, as well as one of the (many) Remember This Cold fics I wrote, but I’m going with this one.

2015

There are fics from this year I like more (The Children of the War, for one, and Birthright) but I’m going to go with the fic that surprised me most just by existing, which was Now Three, MCU. I said for years I’d never write mpreg fic. And then I did it. I think that’s where I learned not to make categorical statements about what I’ll never write.

2016

Shit, man, this was a year of some personally iconic fics. This was the year of I have lived with shades, a shade, of The Vivisection Mambo, of there’s a hell of a good universe next door. It was the year of The Villain Wrangler, the fic I wrote in one sitting that is one of my most popular fics ever, no I don’t resent that a little. I wrote a lot of really good fic in 2016. (If I do say so myself.) 

But I’m going to have to go with to face unafraid the plans that we’ve made, MCU, because this was the year that Steve proposed marriage to Loki in Remember This Cold and that was kind of a big fuckin’ deal.

2017

This was another tough one - do I go with one of the first Wheel of Time fics I wrote in years, because this was the year of the Wheel of Time reread? Do I go with Seven Years because it remains one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written and was the first glimmer of a return to the Silmarillion after a couple years of silence? My first Dragon Age fic ever? One of my Loki/Grandmaster fics (a new ship appearing on the scene late in the year)? The middle fics of the Tapestries series, which series is in many ways closest to my heart emotionally?

But ultimately I landed on the obvious candidate: we’re not friends, we’re strangers with memories, MCU was finished this year. It was the longest thing I’d written and finished to date, and I ended up feeling really good about how I closed it out. I’m still proud of it, which is no small thing.

2018

Yeah, okay. I wanted to pick a Loki/Grandmaster fic for this year, because it feels like the year I wrote a whole fuckin lot of those and they’re very much...uhhh representative, in some way. 

But this has to be Life in Reverse, MCU. The labor of six years, over 200,000 words, blood, sweat, and literal tears, and I finished it in 2018. I feel like if I’ve left a mark on the MCU fandom at all, it’s with this fic. And you know what, I’m good with that.

2019

We’re not quite done with this year yet, but I’m done posting fic for it, so I feel okay choosing one here. And while I’m going to go more in-depth with a 2019 fic recap with a different post, if I had to pick just one fic that feels emblematic of this year I think I’d go with gather frankincense, Lymond Chronicles. Not just because it’s one of my proudest accomplishments of the year, but also because this was a year where I branched out when it came to fandoms. The MCU still dominated, but for the first time in a long time I was writing semi-regularly for other fandoms - Good Omens, Lymond Chronicles, Doctrine of Labyrinths, The Silmarillion, even some Wheel of Time.

It was a good feeling. I used to be a very multifandom writer, and I like the feeling that I’m circling back to that. Especially when it comes to small book fandoms, which were my first internet home.

[quirkykayleetam]

Broken Pieces Superhero AU

Hello friends and superheroes!  @burtlederp and I are back with a new installment, though the next one might take us a little longer.  This features some hurt/comfort for Damien, domestic fun and insults as a love language with Daniel and Beth, the beginnings of badass!Jay, and trouble brewing for Mr. Marcelo.  Ready to read?

Chapter 4: Of Secrets and Soup

Jay stared at the television set. Their hand paused between their mouth and the bowl of popcorn on their lap.

“No,” they thought. “It couldn’t be.”

Behind them, Jay heard Daniel curse.  They registered the man prepping the SUV for damage control.  They knew someone had to help the Alchemist before it was too late and, well, Daniel was known for saving people.  He saved Jay.

Still, Jay stared at the 23 inch screen.  Their mind did and redid their calculations, instantly analyzing vocal tone, hand gestures, speed, gait, everything Jay could make out.  It matched over 90%, no matter how Jay ran the numbers.

Jay knew who Roman was.

“Don’t go to the hospital!” they called desperately to Daniel before he sprinted out the door.  They hoped Daniel heard. Then Jay dashed to their bedroom.

They needed their computer. They needed to think, get all the information, because Jay only knew one thing: They had met Roman before and they sure as hell weren’t going to let the villain hurt anyone else, not on their watch.

“Ahhh, smooth as silk,” Marcelo sighed as he walked back into his home through the medical room entrance. “Honey, I’m hoooome!” He called.

“Get changed and meet me in the kitchen, I made cinnamon rolls!” Cynthia called back. Marcelo moved faster, skipping to the master bedroom. 

Cynthia walked into the bathroom as Marcelo stepped out of the shower just a few minutes later, holding a buzzing phone. He looked up at her, then to the phone. It was that phone. The secure one he’d made specifically for communication between him and Jay. Cynthia looked worried as she handed it to him.

“Thanks honey,” he nodded, taking it and putting it to his ear. “Mayor Blackwood speaking, is everything alright?” 

“Umm...you said I could call if...if I needed anything, right?” 

Marcelo could tell even over the line that Jay was shaken and shaking.

“Yes, Jay, of course, of course! What can I do for you? Are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t….It’s not safe over the phone. Can we meet? Now?”

“Yes, yes we can. I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that alright?”

“Not the house!” Jay blurted.  “Not there. I’ll be in Central Park, by the red bench with the rose bushes. And Mr. Marcelo, sir?”

“Yes, Jay?” 

“Don’t….Can Mrs. Cynthia not be there?  I don’t….I don’t want her to hear anything and get in danger or trouble or--”

Marcelo glanced to Cynthia, brow creased with concern. “Of course, Jay, ah… Should I… should I bring some kind of defense for myself?”

“I don’t think so….Not yet. Not until you’ve heard what I’ve got to say. Then I was….I was hoping we could make plans from there. Together.”

“...Okay.” Marcelo sounded apprehensive. “I’ll be there… I’ll be there very soon.”

“Thank you. Thank you sir. I need to be somewhere safe. I need to be with you.” Jay’s voice crackled slightly as the phone cut off.

“What did they say?” Cynthia asked, eyes wide, as Marcelo lowered the phone.

“They sound very… Very worried. They wanted to meet me alone in the park.” Marcelo swallowed. 

“Take a gun with you?” Cynthia requested. Marcelo looked at her and smiled.

“Of course, love,” he brushed his thumb affectionately across her cheek. “Alright, I need to put some clothes on. Can I take a cinnamon roll for the road?”

“Yes, I’ll pack one for Jay, too.” Cynthia answered warmly, and stepped out as he got dressed.

---

It was warm. It was very warm, but not unpleasantly so, not hot. Just warm. And soft. Damien didn’t remember his bed being so soft. 

He opened his eyes slowly, aware of a very distant pain as he focused blearily on popcorn ceilings, green-striped wallpaper. Not his house. So, of course, not his bed. And no mask. 

It took a moment for all the memories of the past couple hours to come to him, but while they trickled back, his heart pounded. He wasn’t wearing a mask, he wasn’t wearing his costume, he wasn’t wearing a shirt or pants. He remembered Daniel, the fight with Roman, getting shot. 

He groaned, lifting an arm and stopping as he realized an IV was delivering to him… Well, he didn’t know what it was, but it was probably helping, maybe. 

“It is,” Desperaux offered helpfully in the back of his mind. 

Something smelled good, he noticed. His stomach was empty, that he was acutely aware of, and the smell made it rumble. He started to sit up, surprised at how little his wounds hurt him--they still hurt, just not as much as lesser wounds had in the past.

“Hey, kid,” Daniel said stepping into the room.  His hands were wet, like he’d just washed them, and he buttoned a fresh black shirt around his torso.  “I wouldn’t go sitting up just yet.  Those bullets got you pretty bad.”

“Hey, kid!” a feminine voice called back from behind him.  There was no ire in it, but it still made Damien jump.  “You pull four pieces of shrapnel out of a goddamn superhero and the first thing you say when he wakes up is ‘Hey, kid’? I thought you weren’t supposed to be patronizing.”

A short Latino woman with curved bangs and a teasing smile appeared in the doorway.  She held a large green patterned bowl in her hands, mixing its contents with a spoon while balancing several smaller multicolored dishes on her hip.

Damien watched her come in somewhat warily, but already trusted her a little for her comment. “How long was I out for?” he croaked, sitting up anyways, maybe to spite Daniel a tiny bit.

The aforementioned Daniel handed him a plastic cup of water.

“About 3 hours. We had to give you some pretty heavy sedatives to get the bullets out.  You bounced back quicker than we expected.” The operative looked over his shoulder at Beth before reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “We were worried about you, kid.”

Damien almost smiled as he heard Despereaux purr delightedly in his mind. “They noticed! They noticed!” He didn’t let the smile reach his face, still, but lowered his gaze, humming in response.

“What Daniel means to say,” the woman cut in, “Is that you were all kinds of stupid--read: brave--and that I’ve been yelling at him for the past 2 hours for not telling me about you from the time we landed. So, he gets to go do the dishes while I get to ask you the easiest question you’ve probably been asked in a while: Do you want some Corn-and-Poblano Soup?”

Damien looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Um, yes ma’am.” 

“Look at me, surrounded by gentlemen! I’m Beth Hernandez. Daniel says I shouldn’t tell you what my last name is yet, but you’re in my goddamn house and it's the most common thing south of the border.”

She spooned out a healthy portion of porridge-like stew, setting it on the bed next to Damien’s hip and handing him a spoon.

“Just don’t the be dumbass Mr. Wei thinks you are by picking that bowl up while it’s still hot and you’re still weak. I haven’t found a pottery store I like here yet so no one is allowed to break anything.” 

A veeery slight smile found its way onto Damien’s face as he looked down at the bowl. “There’s one on Inupiak street, three over from main.” 

Beth narrowed her eyes at him.  “Local artisans?”

“Yes’m.” 

“Fantastic!  You get better, I get some more stuff, and I promise we can chuck every ugly thing in this house at the wall until it shatters. Deal?”

“Can I help?” Daniel called from the kitchen. Beth looked expectantly at Damien, like she was asking for permission or something.

Damien looked back at her blankly for a moment and shrugged. 

“Ugh, fine you villainous hero-wrangler!” she called back.

Damien smiled. “Thank you, ma’am, for the food, I really appreciate it.”

Beth leaned in closer like she had a secret to tell. “Now, you may not know this yet, but this is kind of what I do. I get worried about people in danger which makes me stress cook so I get Daniel to get those people and bring them right back here.  You’re not the first person I’ve collected.” She winked. “But you’ll meet Jay later.”

Damien nodded. “I hope he’s nicer than Daniel.”

“They’re sweetness wrapped in trauma like an empanada. Don’t yell too loud and you’ll get along just fine. Daniel is the one the yelling’s for.”

“I don’t know how to yell if I’m not in costume.” He shrugged. 

“I think we can work with that,” Beth said. “Now shut up and eat your soup. I have to go make sure that maniac hasn’t rearranged my cutlery again.”

“It’s more efficient with the army method!” Daniel called as Beth went after him.

Damien scoffed quietly to himself, and began to slowly tuck into the soup. “She’s nice.” Fox commented in his mind. 

“She is,” Damien murmured. “She is.”

---

Marcelo stepped out of his car, his casual one--not a big, black suburban, but something small, economic, good on snowy roads. He walked out to the bush that was blooming happily, standing by it and watching a family play in the park as he waited, tense. He’d brought a gun, stashed subtly within his light coat.

Jay ran up, seemingly from nowhere. Their appearance was rushed: frenzied blond hair fell over darting blue eyes. They grasped the small black bag from the plane cargo bay in their hands.

“You came. You actually came. Thank goodness!” they said, staring past Marcelo to the roses, or maybe their thorns. “We can’t stay here. I...I know something. Is that your car?”

“I--yes, that’s mine,” Marcelo’s brow furrowed with worry. “Jay, you’re alright, aren’t you?” he asked, walking towards his car.

“I’m honestly not sure? I...I think I am, for now.” Jay scrambled in the passenger seat before meeting Marcelo’s eyes in the most intense gaze the mayor had ever seen. “I have information on Roman, sir.”

“You do?” Marcelo returned his gaze, just as serious, nothing in his face betraying fear. “What is it?” he asked, locking the doors for security.

“Not here,” Jay repeated. “Once we...once I say this, neither of us are going to be safe.”

Tag List :  @stoic-whumpee​​​​​​, @whatwasmyprevioususername​​​​​​, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall​​​​​​, @straight-to-the-pain​​​​​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​​​​, @0idril0​​​​​​, @fallingstormphoenix​​​​​​, @whump-fantasies​​​​​​, @imagination1reality0​​​​​​, @whumpback-wail​​​​​, @whump-tr0pes​​​​​, @untilthepainstarts​​​​​, @captivity-whump​​​​, @burtlederp​​​​, @redwingedwhump​​​​, @whumpiary​​​​, @captivity-whump​​​​, @blue-flare10, @aquaace