#I also know you can just snipe him from a crane

[delafiseaseses]

I've Been Thinking About GTA IV Character Clarence Little.

Now, I'm sure some of you have no idea who Clarence Little is as you've forgotten he ever existed. He's a drug dealer and pimp who is the target of Francis McReary mission Holland Nights, the one at the flat block, because he's going to rat on Francis for leniency. Clarence can, dependin' on circumstance, be spared in said mission.

Clarence does disappear if spared in that mission. Francis does think he's dead, his lieutenant takes over his heroin and crack operation (and is subsequently also killed by Niko for Francis) and Francis doesn't find out Niko spared Clarence (in the final version of the game, anyway, there's a cut phone call, but that's cut so it don't matter).

Later on, if he was spared Clarence appears as a Random Encounter. The encounter is simple, Clarence reminds Niko who he is, pulls a pistol and then tries to get revenge on Niko for 'making' him beg for his life. Clarence is a single man with a handgun, Niko is Niko Bellic. It doesn't end well for Clarence, naturally.

So, why am I thinkin' about this random bloke from GTA IV? Well, it shows a theme in the game. See, every other character y'can spare who becomes a random encounter in IV don't attack Niko. They appreciate the fact Niko showed mercy, gave them a chance to keep on living. Clarence shows that not everyone takes such chances. He wasted his chance and faced the consequence of it.

I think the lesson of the Spared characters who come back as random encounters is this: You can't foresee what people're gonna do with your kindness, most will appreciate it, but not everyone will.

I guess you could also tie in the fact that Clarence wanted revenge on Niko to the larger theme of revenge that drives the story. Clarence didn't seek out Niko, nor did Niko seek out Clarence, but seeing him again Clarence decided to take a shot at pointless revenge, costing him his life.

Still, I consider sparing Clarence a good choice, even if he renders it pointless, he at least used those weeks between mission and encounter. I doubt he spent that time well, but Niko did what he could.

Plus, it's kinda funny to take him out when he's so smug and sure of himself armed with only a pistol alone against Niko Bellic.

[bambi-kinos]

loved ur recent post on paul whump !! besides the linked one(which I've never read so thanks!) do you have👀👀 any recommendations👀👀👀👀

tl;dr - it's slim pickins out there.

First let's bring back an old differentiation: there's physical whump and then emotional whump, and that was an important distinction back in the day. I have looked for both and while there are some good emotional whump pieces, there is no readable physical whump besides the su!c!d3 fic. Physical whump is more of an action movie thing and in general Beatles fandom is not terribly interested in action and adventure so they don't write it. And the thing is, that's fine, that's a valid choice that anyone can make and we should write about the things we enjoy and not what we think others expect. But it also means that Paul whump fics basically don't exist in modern fandom as we know it. There are probably some on LJ or in the Google Docs McLennon archive since Stargate and Smallville were so big on LJ at the time and there was more x-fandom pollination but I don't want to Snipe hunt right now.

(For the record, I do have something in the works to fix this hole but it won't come out until next year if we're lucky.)

Emotional whump is more plentiful and there's well written stuff out there for sure. Most of the emotional whump I've enjoyed is centered around John's suffering and while Paul's misery is apparent it's not the focus of those pieces. So this took some digging into my bookmarks and memory. What I like in a good Paul whump fic is how his own arrogance and narcissist tendencies come back to bite him OR he's having to put up with John's shit when John is being horrible.

In that spirit, here are my recommendations for decent emotional whump focused on Paul:

Barcelona - Selena. I enjoy this one because Selena let's Paul be a whole person here. It's not just John and Brian bothering him, it's the fact that he's trapped with someone who reminds him of what he's lacking and how this hurts him, both now and in the past. Parallels to the Barcelona situation are subtle and well drawn so you get all of the agony without being hit over the head with it. John is opaque to Paul who doesn't understand why he's acting like this which is a nice change from what we often see in fanfic where John just blurts out what he's feeling. Here we see how much Paul suffers when John is trying too hard to be clever.

A Hole in the World - RosalindBeatrice. Linda bears witness to the aftermath of John's murder in Paul. Easily the absolute best fanfiction on this list.

Birthday - Selene. Love this one because Selene writes Paul as an actual character instead of the heteronormative girly thing he often gets slapped with. Paul is once again bitter, angry and unhappy because the boy he fell in love with has already disappeared. He is forced to be the adult in a room full of manchildren and he hates it...but he also sucks it up and does it anyway. Because he is Paul McCartney and being the foundation of The Beatles and cleaning up John's messes is exactly what he signed up for and he will do it because no one else can. I think of this one all the time. It lives rent free in my head.

Red Sky - thinkpink20. What I appreciate about thinkpink20 is that she is brave enough to let John be absolutely awful but she also humanizes him so you can see his inner pain and confusion driving that horribleness. This is a nice one where John is no where near to figuring himself out but Paul is, and then when Stuart's living shadow gets into the mix, no one is happy.

From Barcelona To Santa Cruz - thinkpink20. Another post-Spain fic but this time John articulates his defense well which of course humiliates and angers Paul even further because John proves he is human and capable of empathy, which Paul didn't want to write into the equation.

the crane wife - mynamesbetty. Betty was showing me the first drafts of this one and all I could say was: "Paul is a horrible person. He's a fucking homewrecker. He deserves this." That's what I like best about this story. Paul is a selfish asshole and he hurts everyone and himself by being self centered, petulant, and cowardly. Every single awful thing that happens to him is strictly the result of his own actions. He manages to make himself the Coyote in a Looney Tunes cartoon including the bit where he runs straight off the cliff, doesn't realize it, and then looks down just as he starts falling before he shoots the viewer a look asking for help. And then the ACME anvil falls on him.

So those are my recommendations on Paul whump. It ended up being a longer list than I expected so that's something. Hope you enjoy the recommendations and please check out the other fanfics by these authors, they're all great.

[maryellencarter]

okay so i'm going back and rewatching "the target is 555 meters away" because i did not really manage to talk about that episode at all because part 2 was being such a slog but oh god it has ALL THE FEELS EVER

spoilers ahead

okay so the episode starts with a lovely moody scene where lupin is like "jigen, let me see your aim" and puts a sticker on his forehead and has jigen shoot at it with a sniper rifle from like half a kilometer away, and like. THEM! jigen's complete lack of hesitation! it's not made obvious before the shot that lupin is standing behind bulletproof glass, but jigen just trusts lupin so much that it doesn't matter. he'd take the shot if lupin wanted him to, whether he knew any of the rest of the plan or not.

and the way jigen takes the shot and the music goes totally silent while the bullet travels, and then it lands dead center and jigen's theme ("tornado") starts to play while he rides his lil bicycle over to lupin

and fucking THEN! they talk about the bulletproof glass, how the bullet barely went deep enough in to get stuck, how the real target will be three times as thick and 555 meters away... and then Lupin asks him "Can you do it, Jigen?" (or "Will you do it"... this is why anime peeps start learning Japanese istg), and Jigen asks "If I say no... *pause, more subdued* what will you do?" And Lupin just sticks his hands in his pockets, shuts his goddamn eyes, and with this little absolutely trusting peaceful smile on his face says "You won't say it" and starts walking away. And Jigen just mutters "Then don't ask" and bikes after him as the music fades down and it's just the wind blowing again.

like. everything! about this scene! they know each other so damn well! they fucking trust each other so damn much! they both know jigen is the only person in the world who has a hope in hell of pulling off what lupin is asking (which is gonna be WAY harder than this scene makes clear, we'll get there), and they both know jigen will ALWAYS be there for lupin.

but lupin asks anyway, doesn't just assume jigen will do it. and jigen *knows* that if he can't or won't do it, there's nobody else on earth lupin can turn to who has the skill level he needs. but he asks anyway, because that's the shape of the relationship between them. because he needs to hear that lupin knows he can do it. and they just... they fucking trust each other so much and they don't ever have to question it but sometimes they do just to hear the shape of their faith in each other around the answers. BAAAAABIES! *smishes them*

So anyway, the heist target is a diamond exhibition in a Space Needle looking tower building, although luckily it doesn't rotate. The floor and ceiling will both be electrified enough to kill Lupin if he touches them, and the walls are ridiculously thick bulletproof glass which can't be broken even with dynamite. We'll see at one point that it even takes Goemon several minutes to hack through one with Zantetsuken, which has been able to slice anything else in the entire show so far except sticky yam paste. (It was a thing.) Lupin disguises himself as Zenigata to get the details of the security plan, and also places another lil dot sticker on the window for Jigen to aim at when the time comes. Luckily, nobody notices the sticker, because we need it for Jigen to be a badass.

So then we start getting the actual setup for the sniping job Jigen is going to do. He's on top of an abandoned warehouse, on top of a CRANE, which is constantly swaying in the fucking wind. The sticker Lupin placed is so small and so far away it's barely visible even through his sniper scope. "So that's the target. I should just quit now," he grumbles to himself. Of course he doesn't quit, because Jigen has never willingly let Lupin down in his life, but he's sweating (he always gets sweaty when things are stressful, which honestly is one of those tiny things that make me very fond of him), and the grim way he sounds really sells just how damn impossible this stunt is going to be.

(Kiyoshi Kobayashi, Jigen's Japanese voice actor for fifty years, is a fucking *legend*. I may find Richard Epcar's gravelly Jigen voice sexier, but there's nobody like Kobayashi-sama for quiet emotion. I don't do open canons, but part of me is super tempted to watch at least some of the currently-airing Part 6 just to see how his handpicked replacement, Akio Otsuka, can possibly measure up.)

Anyway, then we get MORE of the details of this impossible fucking sniper job. Jigen has four boxes of bullets with him, plus a special bullet with an adhesive inside it and a zipline attached. His job is to shoot the bulletproof glass repeatedly in the same exact spot until he fucking DRILLS A HOLE through it. With bullets. Oh, and he's shooting against the wind (which he tests by tossing up little scraps of unlit cigarette and seeing which way they fly). Did I mention the crane he's on is swaying?

There's more to the heist, of course -- Lupin and Goemon have their work cut out for them getting Lupin into the elevator that's the only way inside the room with the diamonds -- but this episode is really Jigen's showcase and I'm here to squee about him. So after a little bit of plotty stuff with the others, we see that Jigen's down to his last box of bullets, hasn't made a crack in the glass, and is starting to worry he'll run out of bullets before he can get the job done. The wind's changed, too, just to make it a little harder for him to hit the same spot every time.

Lupin makes it into and up the elevator, and asks "How's it going, Jigen?" and because these two are also little shits who just happen to love each other deeply, Jigen snarks "don't rush me, I'm doing more delicate work than you are". In the meantime, Zenigata notices the growing pile of still-warm bullets on the ground below Jigen's target marker, and hollers for the elevator to be brought back down -- remember, Lupin has no survivable way *out* of the elevator until Jigen gets the zipline placed for him.

Just then, one of Jigen's bullets finally sticks in the bulletproof glass. Once there's a weak spot, Lupin says "You did it, Jigen!", but Jigen knows it's not over yet. He's sweating like hell, because *finally* one of the bullets stuck and gave him the opening he needs, but Zenigata is calling the elevator down and they're out of time. Lupin is trying to physically hold the door open to keep the car from moving down -- we saw that elevator door squish Zenigata earlier, so we know it's strong and has no safety function.

Little noodly monkey Lupin promptly gets squished as well, and the elevator starts down. Jigen, because he is the best fucking sniper in the world and because he trusts Lupin to be the best thief, doesn't panic, just makes annoyed Jigen noises (which are very adorable) and starts the next part of the process, which is where he has to drive the stuck bullet the rest of the way through the glass using more bullets as a hammer.

Lupin manages to drop Zenigata out of a hole in the elevator floor that Lupin made earlier, and heads back up. One of Jigen's bullets finally goes all the way through the window and falls on the floor, where it promptly gets disintegrated by the electricity, just to remind us why Jigen was vital to this plan. "I've done it, Lupin!" Jigen says, paralleling Lupin's earlier "You did it, Jigen!" when his first bullet stuck, because how gay is it really if you're not bookending each other's statements in a thematically appropriate manner. :D

Jigen pretty much hasn't been talking this whole time except to infodump about the wind conditions and tell Lupin to be patient, but now that the hard part is over and all (all!) he's got to do is thread the needle with one more bullet, he starts telling Lupin a little story about his childhood. Apparently when he was a tiny Jigenlet, he used to go to the shooting gallery at the fair and shoot for prizes, but he always came up a bullet short for the prize he wanted to win. We see the almost empty bullet box by his hand while he's explaining this.

"What were you shooting for -- Pernod [absinthe]?" Lupin asks, because he's inextricably French and also apparently is picturing a rather older Jigen at a rather different type of shooting competition. Sometimes I wonder if Lupin was ever actually a kid or just a little jungle monkey.

And Jigen, and this is one of the lines *everybody* gifs because it's fucking amazing no matter how you interpret it, Jigen just says "A pink-dressed French doll" and fires the zipline bullet. There's that long second of absolute silence while the bullet flies, goes through the hole seamlessly, and sticks to the far wall with a splat of adhesive.

Lupin just fucking STARES, and it's unclear whether he's shocked that Jigen wanted a doll or that he just made that shot so perfectly, or both. "What's the matter, Lupin?" Jigen jokes, tightening up the zipline so it'll hold Lupin's weight. "Even the guys at the shooting gallery would say 'hey, good shot'."

We cut back to Lupin's face, and now he's grinning like hell. "You did it!" he cheers. "Jigen, you are the number one sniper in the world, and when we get home I'll buy you a French doll." And Jigen just sits back on top of the crane and lights a cigarette -- the first one we've seen him actually light all episode, rather than just shred for wind direction -- and gets this absolutely fucking adorable little smirk on his face.

And I just. I JUST FUCKING CANNOT EVEN. THEY ARE SO GAY. If I was a person who did academic queer studies and shit I would have essays about symbolism and god knows what all. Even just as a person who just has watched a ridiculous amount of Lupin III recently, I can tell you that cigarettes in the Lupin/Jigen relationship are very often a metaphor for sex/romance/whatever it is they have going on (not always, because Jigen smokes like a chimney and sometimes it's just a cigarette, but when they're holding a lighter for each other's cigarettes or god forbid doing the lil thing they do in fanart where their cigarette tips kiss while they light one from the other, it's *always* a metaphor for the relationship), and oh god Jigen my heart that little sit back and relax and light a smoke and that little self-satisfied GRIN are absolutely, abso-fucking-lutely a metaphor and not a subtle one either. You enjoy that cigarette, baby, you've earned it.

Oh, and then when Jigen's packing up (because there's still the second half of the episode to go with the rest of the heist, but Jigen's *koff* shot his load *koff* finished already *koff* okay pick your own damn metaphor then ^_^), we find out he made it with ONE bullet to spare. Like, damn, baby. Lupin's luck and Jigen's skill, they are un-fucking-stoppable together.

(And then he uses that final bullet to kill one of the spotlights so Goemon can do the back half of the heist aka getting Lupin an escape route. Because Jigen, man. He's not out until he's out.)

So yeah, that was approximately the gayest fifteen minutes of television I've seen lately. Then once they've all three gotten away and they're on their yacht splitting up the haul (because the key to marital happiness between thief husbands is definitely separate bank accounts), there's an adorable little coda where we discover that Goemon fucked up his wrist so bad carving Lupin's escape route that he's wearing a sling, and Jigen's trigger finger is also janked up and he doesn't even want to look at a gun for a while. But at least they get to keep the loot, which is honestly pretty rare in part 2.

[silvermoongirl10swfics]

I will be your armour

For @codywanweek 2021 Day 6: Armour.

You can also read this fic here on A03.

No warnings.

Cody sighed to himself as he stared at his armour pieces. The battle that had just ended had been a hard one, with Cody needing to replace some of his armour pieces, thankfully they had what he needed in storage on the Negotiator. Getting the new armour pieces wasn’t the problem, it was deciding what to paint on his armour. Just recently some of the Ghost company boys had said apart from his sun burst design, his armour was a little plain. When Cody had stared at their amour, the word hypocrites came to mind. Most of his brothers had pretty standard designs, so he had no idea why they were telling him to make his armour ‘more interesting to look at’. But with Cody needing new shoulder pauldrons he found himself considering new designs for his pauldrons. He was sat cross legged on the floor of his quarters; his armour pieces spread out in front of him as he stared at the two pauldrons in consideration.

The door to his quarters slid open and he looked up from his position sitting on the floor, his shoulder pauldrons shiny white by his knees. He found Obi-Wan looking down at him with a smile on his face and a pot of 212th gold paint in one hand. “To paint new pauldrons, I thought you could use some paint,” his cyare teased gently.  Cody smiled and shook his head as the Jedi walked into his small quarters, placing the tin pot of paint on the floor by his knees and pressed a kiss against his lips. Cody raised one of his hands to rest at the back of Obi-Wan’s head, his fingers tangling with the copper strands. They both pulled away when the angle began to make their necks ache.

Cody sighed as he looked back at his armour pieces. “I was told to make my armour ‘more interesting’ but I don’t know what to do,” he complained. He wasn’t whining. He wasn’t.

Obi-Wan snorted in amusement and trailed his fingers through Cody’s dark curls as he moved to sit on Cody’s bed. The Jedi sat on the bed, his feet remaining on the floor, allowing Cody to lean his back against Obi-Wan’s legs. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about painting armour cyare. So, I will leave this challenge in your capable hands,” replied Obi-Wan softly.

Grumbling under his breath about the vagueness and unhelpfulness of Jedi, Cody turned to look at his cyare only to find Obi-Wan had dropped into a state of meditation, for once not crossing his legs. Cody rolled his eyes and turned back to his armour pieces with a mutter of, “you don’t know the first thing about painting armour because you don’t wear any.”

After a few minutes of pondering designs in his head, Cody craned his neck back to look at Obi-Wan and smiled fondly to himself. This wasn’t the first time someone had asked Obi-Wan for advice or ideas for painting their armour, and honestly, Cody should have expected Obi-Wan not to help him. Obi-Wan was constantly finding ways for the men to create things or find individuality wherever they could. The 212th had been the first Battalion to paint their armour, Obi-Wan used the sound reason that it helped differentiating between different Battalions on the field of battle. But it was also a way for the men to be individuals. Obi-Wan also encouraged the men on leave to look around the Jedi Temple when they had leave on Coruscant, other Jedi Generals did the same. But Obi-Wan was the only one Cody knew of who ran tours of the Jedi Temple for his men. Cody had often found himself in the Temple Archives, and on numerous occasions talked with Master Nu regarding the Jedi Code and old art artifacts the Archives had in its collection. The stern Archives Master would also share tea and stories of his cyare as youngling with a mischievous glint in her eyes, so Cody loved spending time with the older woman.

Thinking about how his cyare embodied the true meaning of the Jedi and how he always did his best to uphold the values of the Jedi Order. Cody decided on a design and got to work. First, he touched up the paint on his other armour pieces, as there was no use having fresh paint on his shoulder pauldrons but not on the rest of his armour pieces or helmet. Then he picked up his left shoulder pauldron, and with a steady hand he began to paint the Jedi Order’s symbol, as he finished the symbol he turned to smile once more at his cyare who looked peaceful in his meditation. Then he turned to his right shoulder pauldron, as he picked up the paint brush again, he thought about how his brothers in the 212th were trying to design an unofficial symbol for their Battalion, they had learnt about their General’s love of varactyls when he told them a story about riding one while a Padawan, and felt the friendly-yet-fierce animal could be a perfect symbol for their Battalion. So, Cody went about painting the silhouette of a varactyl the best he could from memory, while recalling the smile on Obi-Wan’s face as he told the Battalion the story of his mission as a Padawan on the planet of Pijal.

As Cody set his right shoulder pauldron back on the floor to dry, he leaned back against Obi-Wan’s legs feeling satisfied at his work. His satisfaction must have shone in the Force because he felt Obi-Wan stir and then lean forward so he could look at the armour pieces over Cody’s shoulder. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I knew you would think of something worthy to be on your armour,” stated Obi-Wan. Cody reached his own hand up to cover Obi-Wan’s hand with his own. It seemed Cody did not have to explain why he painted the symbols he did, his cyare seemed to already know.

“Would it be too much to ask for you to get some armour pieces? I can help you paint them,” asked Cody as he turned to look up at Obi-Wan.

“I do not need armour Cody,” responded Obi-Wan with a roll of his eyes.

Snorting in disagreement, Cody stated blandly. “I beg to differ.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward so his chin was resting on Cody’s other shoulder. “My robe is my armour.”

“Osik it is,” swore Cody. “Your robe isn’t much protection. Especially when you drop it everywhere.”

Chuckling to himself, Obi-Wan moved his arms so they were wrapped around Cody’s chest and hugged him. “But cyare. Boil, Waxer and Wooley rely on my robe drops to rate them for entertainment purposes.”

“I would prefer you disappoint them,” growled Cody lowly. “And a battlefield is no place for entertainment.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, instead he lifted Cody up beside him on the bed and then stretched them both out to rest together. Cody wanted to put up some resistance, but the warm presence of his cyare on a rare quiet day, led him straight into sleep.

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Two weeks later, on yet another battlefield. Cody watched as his cyare, who had yet again shed his robe in a dramatic fashion, was facing down some droids who were throwing grenades. Even though Cody wasn’t Force sensitive, he sensed danger when he noticed some droids start to throw grenades towards his General, and so he ran towards his cyare. He knocked Obi-Wan over and together they tumbled and rolled for a couple of meters on the ground and then Cody covered Obi-Wan’s body with his own.

After the droids had been dealt with, Cody leaned up on his hands and looked down at Obi-Wan through his visor. “Now will you listen to me and get yourself some armour?” he sniped, but there was no anger in his voice, just worry.

Obi-Wan smiled up at him and rested a hand on the side of Cody’s helmet. “But that is what I have you for cyar’ika.”

Cody sighed in exasperation but found himself leaning his head forward and rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. He couldn’t feel his cyare’s skin through his helmet, but the action was comforting nonetheless. “I love you,” he murmured, only heard by the person the words were meant for due to the loud sounds of battle.

Obi-Wan’s hands traced the new symbols adorning his shoulder pauldrons. “And I love you. I do believe that your new pauldrons suit you very well cyar’ika.”

“You inspired them, cyare,” Cody readily admitted, his voice fond.

“Hey Cody! Stop smooching the General and give us a hand!” yelled Longshot, his voice holding too much mirth for Cody’s liking.

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled with laughter as he gently helped Cody to his feet. “Well, we had best do as Longshot says and give him a hand.”

“Just so long as you don’t take it literally and get your hand cut off,” remarked Cody dryly.

His Jedi frowned at him and mockingly put a hand over his chest. “Would I Cody? How could you doubt me so?”

“I just know you too well,” teased Cody. With one more press of their foreheads together, they marched back into the battle side by side. Just as it was meant to be. Cody figured, if Obi-Wan continued not to wear armour, he was indeed going to have to act as a second pair of eyes and armour himself, because he would not let anything bad happen to his cyare. The galaxy would have to get through himself and his 212th gold painted armour to do so.

[alectoperdita]

First fill for my @warmandfluffybingocards​​ prompt: kiss on the hand fandom: YGO DM pairing: Seto/Joey

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Nuh-uh!"

Seto paused at the entrance to his kitchen to consider the scene: the Wheeler siblings locked in heated debate and sniping each other across his kitchen island. Nope. Call it a well-honed sense of preservation, but he refused to get involved. There was no way this would end well for him. He'd ask a maid to fetch him coffee instead.

But as he turned to leave, Serenity demanded in the most authoritative tone he'd ever heard from her, "Explain why not!"

Joey audibly faltered. "It's, I dunno. It just sounds like a weenie move."

Now, Seto was inexplicably and increasingly fond of his boyfriend. But sometimes, the words that came out of Joey's mouth could give him an aneurism. Unable to help himself, he spun on his heel and growled, "Weenie? What are you? Five? That's your best counterargument?"

Joey shot him an irritated look. "Can it. Nobody asked ya. Ya dun even know what we're talking about."

Seto bristled. Once again, he prepared to storm out and leave the two to whatever childish argument they were having when Serenity called out to him.

"Wait! No, this is perfect!" Serenity beamed as she slid out of the barstool, crossed the kitchen, and dragged Seto by the elbow. Once they reached the island again, she released him and gently shoved him in Joey's direction. "You can help me demonstrate my point," she chirped.

Seto and Joey shared a look.

Warily, Seto slid his gaze back to her and coolly asked, "What am I supposed to demonstrate?"

That sunny grin never left her lips or dimmed for even a microsecond. She clapped her hands together and declared, "Why a kiss on the back of the hand is the most romantic kind of kiss!"

"I'm not kissing you," Seto blurted out before he could stop himself.

Both Wheelers burst into laughter, causing heat to creep up the back of Seto's neck. He cast a dirty look in Joey's direction, and his boyfriend merely hugged his stomach and laughed harder.

"No, silly," Serenity managed around a mouthful of mirth. "On my big bro, duh."

Seto stumbled a bit under the warm weight falling against his side. He reached out to grip the counter edge and craned his head to glare at his boyfriend, mischievously smiling up at him, his chin planted firmly on Seto's left shoulder. A quick shoulder shrug didn't dislodge Joey, who reacted by threading his arms around Seto's waist. Seto would have to admit defeat, for now.

"She's been binging those Victorian chick flicks," Joey offered as a way of explanation as he leaned even more heavily against Kaiba.

"They're called period dramas," Serenity corrected airily.

"Well, I call 'em snoozefests." Joey let loose a jaw-cracking yawn next to Seto's ear.

She ignored the jab and directed her attention back at Seto. "My point is that you should kiss Joey's hand, so he can admit that I'm right."

"Hey, why I gotta be the chick here?" protested Joey, his arms momentarily tightening around Seto. "I could be the one doin' the kissin'."

Serenity rolled her eyes. "The best way to prove my point is for you to experience it, big bro! Plus, Seto's already your boyfriend, so he's the best candidate." Then after a beat, she added, "He also looks more like the male leads than you do."

"So you're saying he's betta lookin' than me?!" Joey screeched.

Serenity artfully quirked such a thoroughly unimpressed eyebrow that Seto would have applauded her if that wouldn't get him punched. To play along or not... He had no dog in this fight one way or the other, but it was always entertaining to antagonize Joey. Just because. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Joey's face fluidly transition through several expressions as he squabbled with his sister. At this point, Joey was entirely relying on Seto to support his weight, nearly blowing out Seto's hearing whenever he raised his voice.

"Joey," he called.

"Wut?" Joey huffed, clearly annoyed at the interruption, but his grip loosened enough in response for Seto to finally slip free of his embrace.

Seto spun to face his boyfriend, who now met his eyes with a newfound wary light. As quick as a viper, he clasped one of Joey's restless hands between his own. Serenity squealed, but they both ignored her. Joey said nothing as Seto ran his long fingers over scarred knuckles and the calluses at the base of Joey's thick fingers. Normally, in private, this would be where Seto would lace their fingers together, and they would sit comfortably in silence with their palms pressed against each other. But Serenity wanted theatrics, something Seto was well versed in.

"Joseph," he added softly. A stroke of inspired genius if he could say so himself.

Wide-eyed and mouth parted, Joey startled at his full name. His entire body jolted as if Seto had zapped him. After ensuring he had Joey's complete attention, Seto transferred his grip to the side of his boyfriend's hand, using both of his own to support Joey's as he turned it palm down. Reflexively, Joey's fingers curled inward to hold his. Biting down a smirk, Seto smoothed his thumb across each knuckle again, never breaking eye contact with the other man. Next, he lifted Joey's hand up. Joey didn't fight the motion and allowed him to raise his clenched knuckles until they were right before his lips. Seto held his gaze and continued to rub small circles into Joey's skin until finally, an unmistakable pink rose in Joey's cheeks.

How far could he push this? Could he wait until Joey turned cherry red?

"Set— C'mon, man, quit playin'," Joey muttered, tortured and almost miserably.

Seto supposed it had gone on long enough. There was a fine line between teasing his boyfriend and tormenting him. Ducking forward, he pressed his mouth to the back of Joey's trembling hand. The skin under Seto's lips was clammy. He lingered there for several seconds, peering at Joey from under his lashes. Joey's flush was nearly crimson now. Seto's heart started fluttering in time with Joey's erratic pulse beating against his fingers.

He broke eye contact and released Joey's hand, but it remained frozen in mid-air for a second after Seto had withdrawn his. Seto glanced toward Serenity, who had both hands clasped to her chest and wore a dopey silly grin that was identical to her brother's, and asked, "Is that enough of a demonstration?"

Her smile threatened to crack her face in half. She tossed a sly glance past Seto. "I dunno. What do you think, big bro?"

Chair legs scuffled across the hardwood floor. Glancing over his shoulders, Seto watched his boyfriend collapse into a barstool and faceplanted on the granite countertop. Joey's face was still visibly beet red from this angle. Even his ear was a crimson blotch standing out against the straw yellow of his hair. "Yeah, it was enough," Joey confirmed in a thready voice.

With a final nod at Serenity, Seto took his leave. As he reached the doorway, though, he heard Joey begrudgingly admit defeat, "Alright, you were totally right." Seto didn't stop the grin spreading across his lips this time.

[babylooneytoonz]

Author's Note: I got this as a request, but decided to turn this into a fic. Thank you to whoever this person was who requested it. 💗

Summary: Your first meeting with Sergeant Barnes wasn't exactly charming, hell, it was a disaster. And the only adjectives that came to your mind when you thought about him were words like prick, bastard and a jackass. He made your life hell, and you lived to make sure you made him suffer. And neither of you realized, how your sole mission of tormenting each other became the most important part of your life.

Set somewhere after Avengers Civil War. My book does not follow the storyline, and will not include the events of Infinity War and Endgame. I do not take credit for any of the characters, except for my OC/Reader.

Warnings: 18+ [Will include SMUT, curses and violence] // Bucky Barnes is an ass

Coffee Stains - Masterlist

Coffee Stains

You almost didn't realize how late it was; the sun had set hours back, and the moon was now shining bright, pale white glow radiating from its cheeks like White ivory spread over the ground outside. You finally decided to stop working, and instead head home. So, you shut your laptop, pushing your glasses over the bridge of your nose, and finally stood up. The SHEILD headquarters was still hustling and bustling with people. People kept walking past your office door, most of them in a hurry as you joined them in the hallway, making your way towards the elevator.

Your father had worked for SHEILD, having been one of the building blocks, along with Nick Fury, and now you, being his daughter, there was nothing more you had ever wanted to do but to dedicate yourself entirely to SHEILD. So here you were, associated with SHEILD, for almost two years now.

You didn't realize when in the bubble of your mind, the kinesis of your thoughts, a woman had stepped out of her office and was making her way towards you, but not after having called your name almost three times. When she reached the elevator, she let out a soft huff, which was enough to finally put you out of your trance.

"Maria, I'm sorry, didn't see you there," you retorted, a little flustered and pink at the cheeks.

The woman almost gave you a tight lipped smile, and slowly, her long, slender arms came to cross on her chest, her left foot almost tapping against the tiled floor of the headquarters, "I've been calling your name, you didn't respond. You alright?"

You thought for a moment, your glossy eyes looking down at her feet before back up on her face again, and nodded, "Yeah, yeah, just thinking. Is there anything you needed?"

"Not me, Fury wanted to see you before you left."

You nodded, pursing your lips slightly and gave her a ghost of a smile before taking a step back and craning your neck towards Fury's office once and then back, " Well then, I guess I'll pay the boss a visit." The two of you exchanged a light hearted chuckle, and you waved Maria off as she stepped into the elevator with two more agents, and you slowly made your way up to Nick Fury's office.

You stood awkwardly at the glass door, bringing your palm up to the glass and knocking on it. Inside the office, the bald headed man with a patch on one of his eyes slowly looked up, and when he saw you, a hint of a smile broke out on his lips as he nodded, and you stepped in.

"You wanted to see me?"

You and Fury shared an easy going relation; he reminded you of your dad, for the two of them had served together before your dad was killed in action, and ever since, Nick Fury had taken it upon him, to watch over you like a father figure.

"Come on in Y/N, I wanted to speak to you."

Shutting the door, you walked up to where he was seated and slowly lowered yourself on the empty chair in front of him, your elbows coming to rest on the surface of the desk.

"So– " He began, sitting back more comfortably, and also to keep a better eye at your expressions and reactions, "With Natasha Romanoff out on a mission, the Avengers are in need of a dire back up agent."

Your eyebrow shot up at his words, not understanding where he was getting at. As though he sensed your confusion, he continued, "A position is open. The Avengers are looking for someone to join the team. And I recommended your name."

It was as though your ears managed to block out every word that Fury said except for the part that he had recommended your name. Avengers had only been a distant dream for you till now. They really intrigued you; and you had done your research on almost everyone of them, except for the newbies of course that you hadn't had the chance to meet. Your lips parted in surprise, and a soft gush of air managed to escape your lips.

"Fury, I – I don't know."

"They asked us for the best we've got, and although it's been a long time we've sent you on our mission, you're the best we've got. I couldn't say no," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood for he was now able to sense that you were starting to get nervous.

"Holy shit." You finally managed to form words, not the best choice of words that you could have formed, but you were so surprised, you didn't know what to say.

"Rest up, Y/N. Tomorrow, we go to the Avengers Towers, and meet your new team."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

The next day, you woke up earlier than you usually did, but you knew that it was your part excitement part anxiety bubbling up that had kept you tossing and turning in bed all night. You had gone over all the possible scenarios that could happen today, at the Avengers Towers, on why the Avengers would think that you weren't cut out for this. You were really good, there was no doubt about that; you were trained in hand to hand combat, espionage, you were good with weapons, with the small guns and also the big ones; you could say you were pretty good with your sniping skills. But, you hadn't been on a mission for the SHEILD in a long time, especially not after your messy divorce with Wallis, your ex husband who had been your colleague and your partner at SHEILD, the one person you always went on missions with. It had taken you a long time to come out of the emotional trauma that came with a separation, and to worsen it all, he had been the one that you had caught with another woman in your bed, on a night you almost escaped death, on one of your solo missions.

You were already dressed and ready by the time you were picked up and dropped off at the Stark Towers, with Fury by your side.

You wouldn't lie if you would say that you were starstruck, by just a look at the exterior of it. It was heavenly. And the interior. You didn't even want to comment on it, it was that breathtaking, a complete opposite to the SHEILD headquarters.

"Like it?" Fury chuckled next to you, breaking your thought process, and a faint hue of a blush to grace your cheeks. As the two of you got into the elevator, you turned around and gasped slightly at the sight of the entire city of Manhattan right there in front of your eyes, from a little glass box.

"Friday, Tony's lab, please. Thank you."

"Right away, Director, and Miss Y/N," the AI chortled back, causing your eyes to widen even further. Friday was like a celebrity to you, and now finally you were here, at a place you had only dreamt of being, and the reality was slowly sinking in.

The elevator pinged open, and Fury was the first one to step out, followed by you as the two of you walked into what looked like a really high technology lab. Your eyes marvelled at the sight, and you just looked around, your eyes scanning through it all, your mind still in a daze.

"Welcome, welcome to my humble abode," there he was, the man himself, the man behind all of this, the famous Tony Stark. Although you had met him before, and Steve and Natasha as well, it was back at the SHEILD headquarters.

"Tony Stark, long time no see."

"Well, I've been busy you see," he smirked smugly at you, but soon, a small smile paved its way over his lips and he slowly engulfed you in a warm hug.

"Welcome home, I always did say to Fury."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, side glancing your boss, who was, for a change, having a smile of his own over his lips.

"You always belonged with us, here at the Avengers Towers. He never really let you go," he gave Fury a look and then, his friendly demeanor altogether changed and a professional look took over his face, his features turning stoic. "Now Fury have you spoken to her about her trainings?"

"Not yet."

"Great, so–" Tony dramatically clapped his hands together, "With a great position comes great responsibilities."

"With power you mean?" You chuckled.

"Yes yes. And that," he winked playfully, only to straighten up again. "But that power needs to be harnessed. You will be put into training, like all the newbies we get and we will get to decide when and if you have what it takes to be one of us."

Fury nodded, and you looked at him, noting how he was beaming at you, like a proud father, causing your confidence to boost up as you nodded in Tony's direction.

"When do we start?"

"Hold that thought, ah, Friday? Can you please ask Captain to join us, please?"

"Right away, Mr. Stark." The AI replied.

"Well then, so that fixes it."

A comfortable silence fell over the lab and Tony walked off to look at something on one of his screens. You fixed yourself by the glass staring out at the picturesque view of the city of Manhattan. It wasn't long when you heard heavy footsteps behind you, and finally when you heard Fury greet Steve, you realized he had joined the lot of you. The minute you turned around, your eyes fell on him and with a soft smile, you nodded in his direction, "Mr. Rogers."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Bucky wasn't having the best day.

At first, he had woken up to bone chilling nightmare. If that wasn't all, he had taken his motorcycle out for a ride, and somehow he had parked it when he had reached the cliff, and made his way to the edge to just stare at the horizon, when someone had somehow managed to steal the bike. And if that wasn't the worst part of the day, he was sexually frustrated and utterly sex deprived as he had just returned yesterday from almost a month long mission.

Sam being the nice person he was, had tried to warn most of te people to stay out of Bucky's way today; because today, he was really biting.

But he really hadn't warned you.

Because he still didn't know who you were.

After having met with Steve in Tony's lab, Fury had left, and Steve had opted to walk you around the facility, until he had dropped you off at your apartment on the seventh floor. He had told you that you were to share this floor with a few of the Avengers, but he was in a hurry so he had asked you to come find him later in the evening. Besides, you had to be ready to train with him today at 7 in the evening.

It was already 5 by the time you stepped into your apartment; your eyes widening in awe when you saw the interior of it. The furniture was sleek and modern, made out of the best quality of wood there could be, and the walls were painted a spotless white, numerous abstract paintings hanging on the walls.

You gotta hand it to Tony, the man sure did have a taste.

It didn't take you long to fill the walk in closet up with your clothes, and even after filling up the two bags that you had brought over, you couldn't help but marvel at how much space the closet still had for more stuff, giving you an inspiration to shop for a dozen more outfits. However, now wasn't the time to think about it, and instead you decided to grab yourself a mug of coffee from the kitchen, so you could be alert and fresh for your training session with Captain.

Whistling to yourself, and with the help of Friday, you did manage to find your way to the massive kitchen, adjoining the spacious recreation room that was empty when you reached. Walking into the kitchen, you filled up your mug with piping hot coffee to the brim, and lifted the mug up, walking out of the kitchen.

Little did you know that a mistake was bound to happen on your first day here.

Bucky had just stepped out of the gym, dressed in a tight white tank top and his joggers, his hair all sweaty and sticking to his face. At first he had decided to hop right into the shower, and maybe get a little frisky, but at the last moment, he finally gave up on that idea, having decided to stall the shower for a little more time so he could grab himself a granola bar from the kitchen.

Although his feet made a lot of ruckus as he walked into the recreation room, and towards the kitchen, but perhaps you were so engrossed in licking your lips, eyeing the mug of coffee in your hands that you failed to hear him come in.

You stepped out of the kitchen at the exact same time when he tried to enter, and you ended up crashing into him, your hot coffee spilling all over his white tank, causing a massive stain.

Bucky cursed as the coffee came in contact with his flesh, a faint hissing sound escaping from his lips, which was probably due to the burn that he could now feel on his abs. His eyes turned venomous instantly, and his face contorted in fury.

"Even with a pair of glasses on, you still cannot watch where you going?" He barked at you, in a rude tone.

You looked at the stain on his abs, and then back up at him, not failing to notice the blue in his eyes, mentally cursing yourself for how clumsy you were.

"I – I'm really sorry, I –" You started stammering, only to be cut off by him again.

"Your sorry won't fix the mess you made, would it?" Sarcasm dripped through his words, and now, you were starting to feel how this man was simply overreacting. You spilling a piping hot mug of coffee over him wasn't really that much of a big deal, was it?

"Let me wash it –"

"We have machines that does that stuff for us, you really don't have to bother. Now, if you don't mind, you are in my way," the blue eyed man simply huffed, his face slowly turning cold and emotionless, as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching you and waiting for you to move out of his way. Maybe you weren't that fast in moving; and you understood this when you felt him roughly push himself past you, ignoring the way you fell to your side by the weight of his body, almost crashing against the doorframe and hurting your side.

"Really? Did you just fucking push me?"

This time, you turned around, your eyes contorted in fury, and your lips laced together, in a hope that pressing your lips together like that would stop your curses from flowing out.

"Would you rather have had me jump over you? You aren't exactly small."

He had his back now turned towards you, his body bent over the fridge as he callously moved his hands through the contents of the fridge.

"Prick."

Shaking your head, you took a step away, leaving the now empty mug of coffee on the slab before making your way out of the kitchen.

You were fuming.

(Feedback is always appreciated.)

Want to be added to any of my taglists? Please fill out the form on this link. 💗

[batarella]

The Commander - Part 14 (Arkham Knight x Reader)

Only the epilogue is left! I can’t believe the Commander series gained this much love and support from all of you! And I honestly can’t believe how far this went. You guys are making me live the dream!

WORDS: 5422 WARNINGS: VIOLENCE (AND OTHER STUFF BUT I WON’T SPOIL YOU GUYS HIHI)

Masterlist 

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

------

Was it fear? With the whole world coming after her, everyone she’s come to know wanting her dead. After destroying the whole of Gotham, corrupting it just enough when its citizens have placed a bounty on her head, but not enough to actually succeed and instill the protection she needed?

Was it failure? How the entire Arkham Knight Militia failing at its most important task was almost entirely her fault, how she was thought to be its most prized soldier and would have been the key needed to occupy the city, and instead became the cause for its humiliating defeat?

Was it grief? Over the hundreds of lives she’s taken, or how the loss of her uncle has placed such a scar on her, something no one will be able to overlook, ending her career as the best markswoman?

Or was it hate? Failing at the one thing she was supposed to be best at, the one thing she was at least good at? How she has nothing left to her name, nothing to be proud of, nothing to show for. How she had so little of life left.

It was all of them. At the same time.

But there was also heartbreak.

The bag was still on the floor. 1.5 million dollars. All of which she had no right to at all. Not when she’s lost the militia so much. Not after what she’d costed Jason.

It was definitely heartbreak. At even just the slightest thought of his name, she could feel a part of her chest chip away like glass pieces on the floor.

Heartbreak. Fucking heartbreak. It hurts so much that her other bruises are so easily suppressed. Never will she complain about broken bones ever again. It was nothing compared to this.

She was so sure he loved her back. Maybe he did, and she tore that love away before she was even sure it was there. Jason was kind, gentle to her. And he saw her in an entirely different light than everyone else. And she failed him, knowingly drove a knife down his chest. She was now a part of the cause for his hurt. And Y/N will never forgive herself for that.

Y/N might never find that again with anyone else.

But she had to go.

She left the money bag on the floor. However things go, she’ll come back for it, if she even wants to. Y/N took one last look at her mask, her red gun optics.

She can no longer be Deadshot. Not after everything. Donning the mask would only cause her so much pain. Dropping it on the floor, she left.

And with that, she left the militia, Floyd, and everything else.

Rolling her shoulders, keeping her wounds in check and knowing which places to avoid getting hit. She was going to need more than just her wrist gun to get out of here. Slightly pushing the door, her eyes adjusted to the orange light.

The elevator was across from her, and judging from the view outside the mezzanine, she was two stories above the control room. The main entrance would most probably be blocked, but if she found some explosives, she could get out of the HQ and find a bike nearby. Weapons crates would probably be there as well.

Y/N couldn’t take the elevator, but a chute right beside it went straight down all the way to the bottom, at the center of Killinger’s.

Making sure her gloves were tightly secured, she stepped out of the room and removed the steel grates, prying it open with her bare hands. After pushing her weight against her foot on the wall, she looked down the almost bottomless chute and prayed her injuries wouldn’t come to bite her.

Y/N stepped in, breathed, slowed her heartbeat, then slowly slid down the metal with the fabric of her gloves and her rubber boots maintaining the friction she needed not to fall. Her muscles were killing her, but she could manage this. Slowly and slowly, she descended until she could see the floor. There was light coming from the other end, which meant it was definitely at the center.

She stretched her arms further out to not hit the floor so suddenly, and when she was just inches away, her boots met the ground, where it led her to another way under the floors of the department store. At the darker corners, she wouldn’t be seen. She had to be careful.

Y/N crawled under the tunnels. There was no noise, no voices coming from anywhere. The soldiers must have left, even when all the lights were on.

There should be another chute somewhere. Further down and an elevator should take her to safety. Y/N climbed up the grates. There was a number of bodies on different corners, and those bodies were still breathing. Batman.

“Anyone seen the Knight?”

“No,” she heard a voice. And it wasn’t coming from afar. She hid behind a pillar and peeked out.

A weapons case. Yes. She hurried to it and grabbed every gun she could find. A rifle, a machine gun, and two pistols. It was like she could breathe for the first time.

“He left his visor,” one of them said.

“He couldn’t have gone far. Spread out.”

Five men scattered around, and she’ll have to climb up to get to the elevator in one of the corners. There were medics tending to the bodies. She’ll have to get out of here fast. Y/N hid behind boxes and crates, avoiding any of the soldiers’ line of sight. She climbed up the side of the escalator, grabbing onto the ledge and sprinting out before anyone could see her.

The elevator was still on the farthest side. And one of them stood guard in front of it. Y/N snuck behind a railing, waiting it out at the corner where it turned. Clear.

But just as she got to the lift, the gears turned up. She sprinted to the grates and crawled to the darkest corner she could hide in.

“You son of a bitch. We had a deal!”

“Get a truck ready outside.”

Scarecrow. And Commissioner Gordon, who was tied up and hauled like a pig behind Crane as they made their way out.

There had to be around five men following him. She kept her silence.

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

After that, she could hear his voice being muffled with a cloth tied to his mouth. Y/N froze when a sergeant turned to her direction, eyeing the elevator.

“Deathstroke,” Scarecrow’s voice growled, and she swallowed hard at the rock lodged in her throat. “Send the divisions to Panessa Studios. I believe we have a person of interest in its confines.”

Gordon’s groans followed. Scarecrow spoke into his comms. “I have the commissioner. Send a squad to Arkham Asylum as well. Make sure they will be ready to broadcast live.”

The broadcast. The final phase of Scarecrow’s plan. That’s if Jason hadn’t killed the Batman already. Which, as it seems, didn’t happen at all.

Y/N crawled out from the corner and followed Scarecrow closely behind.

Then something exploded. The gates, the one leading to where she came from. From where she could see, a door fell to the ground and someone holding two guns in his hands busted out, aiming right at Crane.

Every other gun in the room pointed at him. Crane didn’t move, but he wasn’t bothered as well. Gordon was dropped to the floor and the man, wearing a red helmet, or a visor, clicked his guns.

“WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?”

Fuck. Fuck. Jason.

“I thought you’d left.“

“Tell me where she is!”

“I haven’t an idea who you're talking about.”

“The Commander! WHERE DID YOU TAKE HER!?”

Crane managed to laugh under his breath, drawing his syringes at the muzzles of Jason’s guns. “So Commander Y/N is alive. You are weak, Knight. What makes you think I have her?”

Jason dropped the white mask she’d left behind on the floor. The gun optics was looking straight at her direction, hiding under the floor just a yard away from Crane.

“Tell me where she is and you can do whatever the fuck you want with Batman, Crane.”

“You no longer have power here, Knight. These men answer to me and Slade.”

“None of you would be here if it weren’t for me!”

“And your cowardice allowed Batman to escape. If not for Gordon, all this would have been for nothing.”

“Stop wasting my time,” he whispered, placing his gun right at Scarecrow’s forehead. “Tell me where she is.”

“I don’t know.”

No. Fucking no. Jason raised his arm, ready to strike Crane with the bottom of his gun. She could sense a sergeant ready to fire at the suddenness of his movements. Jason was held by two men by the arms, his guns dropping to the floor while another held a gun right at his face.

“Get off me!”

“I told you to kill the Commander if she were alive, or I kill you…” Crane walked to kneel at Jason’s level.

“Fuck you.”

One.

Two.

Three.

From her angle, she couldn’t aim at any of them.

“Kill him. He’s of no use,” Scarecrow backed away and the gun pointed at his head clicked.

But that wall. It was slanted. A good 45 degrees.

“You son of a bitch-“ Jason coughed.

‘Ricochet,’ Floyd’s voice echoed. A critical angle almost the same as the ricochet. It would bounce off the steel and hit the sergeant’s hand at just the right place.

‘Think of a line, coming straight from your gun, to the wall, and know where that line would be redirected.’

‘Move a little to the left, and aim.’

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

His finger was on the trigger. She had less than a second.

‘Deadshot. Fire.’

Y/N raised her arm, aiming straight at an empty wall, and fired.

“Ah!” She heard a scream, then a drop of a firearm that shot at the cement ground. The sergeant held his bleeding hand and backed away from a still-alive Jason. She did it.

“Someone’s here,” someone said. “SPREAD OUT.”

Jason was still being held down, his head forced to look at the floor while ten armed soldiers roamed the perimeter. He was calm.

He knew Y/N was here.

“Look up! They could be at a sniping position!”

Crane was taken somewhere she couldn’t fire at him. The commander kept moving around in the grates and avoided any of the men’s line of sight.

She couldn’t fire at anyone directly without being noticed. Y/N will have to look at the walls again. The steel ones.

That one. In about five seconds, a sergeant would pass by right in front of that wall. With his armor, she only had such a tiny window at his shoulder blades.

Y/N aimed at the steel, moving slightly to the right, and fired.

The bullet bounced off the wall and hit right where the plates met. One. He fell to the ground, Y/N moved fast.

Two of them, standing right in front of the metal of the elevator. She fired one, which landed right at his neck. Two. The other soldier crouched and moved away.

So she fired at the opposite wall, and it ricocheted twice before landing on the soldier’s groin. Three.

Y/N was home schooled by her aunt, but it was Floyd himself who taught her physics.

She couldn’t get to them any longer. Y/N quietly climbed out the grates, hid behind a store island and waited.

There. She grabbed the man and held him by the neck, snapping it off in one count. Four.

Six more. She could take them now.

Y/N stood up, raising her arm with her wrist gun and a pistol on the other. She fired two bullets at a sniper who was just about to shoot her. Five.

“ HE COMMANDER. GET HER.”

She rolled on the ground, having less time than a bullet reaching her just so she could aim and fire. Six. Seven. Eight. She jumped over boxes, leapt off in the air and kept moving. They never caught her.

Her guns fired off before any of them could lock onto her. She shot the muzzle of a machine gun and it exploded on a soldier’s hands. Then she shot him in the head. Nine.

Last one. He was hiding. Y/N ducked and hid behind the islands. She caught the top of someone’s head. A bullet would easily graze off his hair.

Y/N climbed up and jumped, firing at the wall behind him. It bounced off, and hit him right at the back of his neck.

Ten.

Unscathed. Y/N propped herself up on the floor just below the escalator. She found her white mask and her gun optics, sitting on the floor. She didn’t even need them.

But she heard Floyd’s voice again. At least, for just one night, she’ll don the mask. Slowly, she pulled it over her head.

‘Nice job, Deadshot,’ Floyd said.

Someone moved. Her reflexes kicking in, she aimed her wrist gun behind her.

With his red visor staring blankly at her, Jason ducked and pulled out his own gun before Y/N could fire.

Y/N didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. Jason was going to kill her. He was going to shoot her in the head for what she’d done. She kept her gun pointed at him. She might have loved him, but God Almighty, she wasn’t going to let him kill her.

He told her about this once. The Red Hood. The new persona he planned on taking after being the Arkham Knight.

Robin. The Arkham Knight. The Red Hood. A different name for the same man who was supposed to be her enemy. Someone she should have killed a long time ago.

The fight that was always meant to be.

She couldn’t see the look on his face. And if he was trying to tell her something, she couldn’t hear it. Y/N circled around him, and he followed her movements. If he shoots, she fires back. she kept her gun up and made sure he couldn’t tell her hands were shaking.

She could hear her heart beat. And it wasn’t helping. She could miss. Again. And she’d die. Or worse, she could shoot him in the wrong place and he’d die as well.

Maybe he should. If he was willing to let her die, why shouldn’t she? Y/N gripped on the gun on her hip. Slow the heart. Slow the breaths.

‘Kill when you have to,’ Floyd once told her. ‘Self defense is the one reason you can always justify with.’

If he shoots, and she lives, no longer will she hope for anything normal. Or anything best out of life. No one will be able to hurt her like Jason would.

That way, she can rest assure she’ll be the best markswoman in the world.

“Enough.”

Crane. With twenty more men following behind. She and Jason wouldn’t take their eyes off each other, and their guns, even if there were a hundred in the room.

“You are fooling yourselves. Everyone knows none of you will pull the trigger.”

He said their names so sneeringly. But she kept her gun up, and he didn’t look like he was about to move. “Maybe you're wrong, Crane,” Y/N said.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell either of you. I know about you two. I never had eyes on Gotham. This woman was willing to fulfill my every whim if it meant getting the Knight what he wanted. And this man was practically on his knees begging me and Deathstroke not to let her on the Cloudburst, never mind how she does the job inherently better than he could. I needed no one following you around to figure that out.”

Her heart sank and Jason’s head craned down, avoiding the look on her eye. He never said it wasn’t about her. Y/N just assumed with what happened.

“Let’s make this interesting,” Crane laughed. “Knight, shoot her, or we will.”

And at the moment five firearms aimed at her, he pulled out his second gun and pointed it at the soldiers. “IF ANY OF YOU FIRE, I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT.”

Y/N turned her head at another three men aiming at Jason, so she pulled out her machine gun and pointed it at them.

“Adorable,” Crane said. He raised his hand and filled his syringes with the toxin.

Fifteen guns armed and loaded. Silence. All but the clicking of their guns. Crane walked up closer to them, holding up the needles in the air. Even from so far, she could smell the toxin.

“I’d inject either of you, but I’ll save this dosage for Batman.”

“Crane. I’m at the Panessa Studios. Bring Gordon over here and let’s get this over with.” Slade’s voice, coming from his communicator.

“Perhaps I’ve wasted too much time on you.” He turned around.

Twenty men, all waiting for their next move.

Crane headed for the exit. “Kill them.” His last words, before he left.

At the first strike of a bullet, Jason rolled away from his position and moved quickly behind a pillar. Y/N did the same and leapt behind an island nearby.

The shootout began. She aimed her wrist gun and opened fire at anything she could point at. Jason conjoined his two guns to make a sniper and aimed.

Y/N’s machine gun burned her shoulders with the recoil. She kept firing, and one by one the men hid behind any structure they could find.

“Thought you never wanted to see me again?” she screamed at Jason.

She heard a wince. “I never said that, kid.”

“So you scream at me for not killing Batman-“ she ducked as a bullet narrowly grazed her shoulder. She gritted her teeth. “Then you do the same exact thing. Intentionally.”

“I’m still fucking mad at you-GRENADE.”

She leapt off the floor and covered her head. It exploded onto the escalators, and the rubble tore through the floor. She hid behind a big block of cement and fired. Two men down.

“You want an apology now?”

Jason fired at a sniper above. “It can wait.” He slid a box of ammo down to her side, and she reloaded her gun.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight down. Y/N dropped her machine gun and fired with the one on her wrist. Heads dropped to the floor. Another was at a sniping position, and there was no way she could hit it from here.

“JASON. THROW ME!”

He nodded, then Y/N ran to him. He caught her legs, flung her into the air. And from above, she fired, hitting two snipers hiding behind the pillars. Y/N rolled to the floor and hid.

Wincing, she ripped a part of her suit and wrapped it around her leg after a bullet had grazed against her skin deep enough to bleed.

“You're hit!” Jason cried.

“Keep firing!”

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Four bullets ricocheted off the walls and hit four different soldiers, their necks bleeding before they even hit the floor.

She saw Jason aim at a gas tank, the one stationed near a car showroom. Y/N ducked and an entire wall exploded into rubble.

It kept going. The gas tanks blew up one after another and she ran to Jason’s side, pulling him up and shooting at a soldier just about to hit them. The mall started catching on fire. A wall had opened up and there was a clear exit to the streets.

She used the last of her pistol to fire, with Jason guarding her back, as they made their way to the exit. He pulled her to duck at the final explosion, which took the ceiling away and the building started to collapse.

The fire was burning too close to her face. The heat was immense, and her breath was cut short with the ashy debris.

They ran. Y/N threw her pistol away and ran at Jason’s side to the parking space of the mall. Two motorcycles. Parked against each other. “There!”

She took the one at the left and hurried with the ignition. The department store’s fire roared faster than anything they’ve ever seen. Jason started up his bike and Y/N soon followed. Their bikes sped down the street as they finally drove away from Founder’s Island

The heat. It eventually subsided. She didn’t hear anyone follow them. Not even if she’d look back, which she didn’t do.

They reached Perdition Bridge, sped past GCPD without much thought of where to go. They just had to move.

“Slow do- son of a BITCH.”

Police sirens, from two cars and three motorcycles, trailing behind them. They pulled at their ignitions and sped further.

“WE HAVE EYES ON THE ARKHAM KNIGHT AND THE MILITIA COMMANDER. PULL OVER.”

A sharp turn down a corner. They were still behind them.

“SPREAD OUT,” he screamed. Y/N nodded and they took opposite turns down a fork in the road. Two motorcycles and a car followed her, and the others after Jason.

She can't kill them this time, no matter how easy that would be. She’s never killed cops. She wasn’t about to start now. Y/N sat back and opened the throttle so the bike would wheelie up, roaring so loud the noise filled the streets. She turned, catching the front wheel onto an idle car drove right above it. She pointed her wrist at the same car before she drove too far away and fired.

It exploded, and she took another sharp turn, her hand grazing against the ground. It didn’t do much to slow them down, and eventually the cops were tailing behind her again. She turned, left and right, so suddenly they could never see where she’d go next. She went for the quieter streets, sped further and further until eventually she reached Miagani Island.

She saw Jason at the far end, about to meet her at an intersection. She saw him slow down right where the two roads met and she hurriedly did the same.

The two police cars were about to go after them. Jason jerked his head up, and Y/N understood.

At the exact moment they crossed, Jason held his hand out, Y/N took it, and he pulled her whole body to fall against his motorcycle on the seat behind him. Her bike crashed onto a police car, and it drifted too late to avoid it, eventually crashing into the second.

Y/N held onto Jason with her one arm, and her wrist firing at the parked cars with the other. Explosion after explosion, and none of them slowed down the three motorcycles.

“YOU HAVE A PLAN?” he asked.

“DON’T YOU?”

Another sharp turn. The road almost tore the skin on her leg. She stopped firing. “JASON, SLOW DOWN.”

“WHAT?”

“SLOW DOWN. I NEED HIS BIKE.”

With a frustrated huff, Jason slowed the bike just enough for one of the cops to catch up to them. From Jason’s hip, she pulled out his grappling hook. “MEET ME AT MERCY BRIDGE,” Jason said to her.

She shot it at the cop’s leg, flinging him off the bike. It kept speeding beside them. She only had such short a window. Y/N got on her feet, stood straight up with the bike dangerously moving, and jumped to the empty bike.

She pulled at the throttle, and at the next intersection, they spread out once again, one cop following each of them. Sharp turns, close calls, and stunts that shouldn’t have left her alive at all, Y/N sped back to Bleake Island.

The gas tank was running out. She only had so much of a chance. There was a dead end in an alleyway nearby.

Y/N paused, waiting for the cop to catch up to her, then she pulled at the throttle and the engine scowled out into the empty streets. Her head almost hit the ground when she turned, pulling at the throttle one last time and speeding directly into a wall.  

Just before the cop came to a turn, she grappled up to the roof, grabbing onto a fire exit ladder and hiding before any of them could see her.

The motorcycle crashed onto the wall, and she fired the last shot on her wrist gun onto its tank, blowing it up before the cops could get near it.

She hid from the flying debris, ducking behind the railing and keeping so still, her breaths had to be subdued. It lasted longer, and the air around her choked her even more when the explosion almost met her skin.

The policeman backed off, hiding behind the building. Then when the fire had simmered down, he looked around, up at the roof. She was at an angle where he couldn’t see her.

And when he’d left, her chest sank to the ground.

It was done. 

Everything was finished.

Breathe.

Even if it hurts. 

Her blood was rushing so incredibly fast, she couldn’t see anything in front of her. Y/N laid on the ground, and the pain on her leg came back so gradually, that after a few minutes she could no longer hold it up.

Her lips went white. A bullet, hitting her flesh. The thought of it made her want to crawl into a sewers. She pulled herself to sit up, her knee folded up to where she could see. She unwrapped the bandage to have a look, and it was still bleeding. She couldn’t even touch it. Her hand was shaking, and her breaths were so short, she couldn’t do so much as think.

Y/N used the last of her strength to wrap the bandage even tighter around her leg. Then she laid against the wall, feeling her eyes drop down at every heavy breath that was hard to take.

She could sleep. The exhaustion from the whole night, only now did it come to a close. It didn’t feel like it was just from tonight, though. After everything she’d done, accomplished or failed at, for the past several months, only then did the weight fully land and the tiredness overwhelm her.

She was the commander of a militia army of more than five hundred men.

She lost her uncle.

She had her heart broken.

It wasn’t fear, failure, grief, or hate. She was just tired.

And now, if she sleeps, she’d most definitely die.

Y/N looked up, and a helicopter flew past where a serpent drone usually hovered over. She kept her head craned up, and a light trickle of rain droplets fell onto her face. It was so subtle, she didn’t even get wet, even after waiting at the fire exit for so long.

And it was the last, cool push that began to reign over the bursting fire. After everything that happened, the droplets on her face calmed her. She was silent, and she closed her eyes, but only to feel the cold.

She wasn’t going to die here. Not tonight.

She had one more thing to take care of.

Y/N climbed off the ladders, careful not to place any weight on her bad leg. Her feet met the ground, and she looked out of the alley.

No one. It was peaceful, and the rain continued to be subtle. Batman had finished off the command points, because she couldn’t see even one militia soldier on the streets.

Another bike, on the sidewalk near a convenience store. She walked up to it and pulled it to stand up. Still wincing at the pain, Y/N started the ignition.

She took off her mask and her gun optics. Staring at it, she could hear Floyd’s voice. Over and over like she could actually hear them in real life.

‘Bullseye,’ he’d say to her, after every successful training session.

She stuffed it into her pocket and drove, slowly this time, to Mercy Bridge.

The droplets were running across her cheeks, and it was like a hand, running down her back and calming her even further. The further she rode, the more the weight seemed to burn down.

He would have loved this. Floyd. He never had to lead an army, or do whatever she just did. He’d be proud of her. Immensely.

She’d failed as a commander, and the militia failed her. But she was Deadshot.

The greatest markswoman in the world.

At the turn to Mercy Bridge, she saw him waiting at the center, his red visor up so he could look at her, straight into the eye, when she slowly drove closer and closer to Jason.

Y/N turned off the ignition, swung her good leg over the seat and limped over to him. Jason looked at her leg, then at her, then he moved so quickly towards her so she didn’t have to force herself to walk anymore.

His arms were forceful, but they were warm. Jason pulled her into a tight embrace, his face buried into her hair while she did the same. Y/N closed her eyes shut, feeling him so close to her once again.

And there was nothing else in Gotham but them. No thugs. No cops. No stars. Nothing except the moon, which shined so largely that night, it was enough to light up the empty streets.

All the weight had come off. And she felt lighter than the droplets, lighter than a sparrow. She tightened her circling arms around him and never wanted to let go. “I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-“

“Shut up.” He shushed her, slightly pulling away so he could look at her face. “For fuck’s sake, shut up.”

His lips. They still had the same warmth. They were right as she’d left them. They pressed tightly against her own, and his hand was holding the back of her head so she wouldn’t move. She grew still, letting herself slowly fall into the madness. His madness. But his lips were so gentle, she kissed him back.

“You can do shit like that ten times over. I’ll get mad. I’ll punch a wall,” Jason whispered. “and I’ll still love you. I love you. So much. I love you.”

She kissed him again, no longer fighting the tears that mixed with the rain water on her face. He held the sides of her head. “I love you,” she said back in between his kisses, and he kissed her harder. Y/N’s hands were on his face and she felt tears down his cheeks as well. She wiped them off, gently, then pulled away so she can kiss them.

Even if the bridge weren’t empty, the water below them wasn’t silently thrashing, and the moon wasn’t so bright, it would all feel the same.

He laid his forehead against hers, and he was so beautiful, even with a new scar right on his eyebrow. He was beautiful. Y/N kissed him again until her lips had the familiar, wonderful sting.

“I found supplies,” he said. And on his bike was a bag. “Food. Clothes. First Aid kit. Everything you need to last three days. Hide in my old apartment and don’t come out. Not until people come back from evacuation. The police will find you. I can't risk being followed. Not after what I’m about to do.”

“Let me help you-“

“No,” his voice stammering. “Y/N, no. This is my fight. You can't save me again. You’ve saved me so many times. For once, let me save you…”

The grip on her face was secure. And she felt like she could never be hurt again. She can't be apart from him. Not for a second more.

“Where will you go?” she cried.

“Arkham Asylum. Crane. Bruce. I have to go after them…”

She could see it. The first signs of his inner peace. He wouldn’t have to go through fighting his demons the way he wanted. “Save him,” she said, kissing him one last time.

“I will. Then when all this blows over, when it’s safe, I’ll come back to you. I’ll never let you out of my sight. I love you.”

It tore through whatever darkness was left in her. She hugged him, and at the pain that came with having to let him go, just for so long to keep them both safe, he pulled away. Jason glanced at her, smiled that beautiful smile that sent her miles into the sky, then closed off his visor and drove off.

Even with the night an empty black, she could feel the stars looking at them in hiding.

-----

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

  Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf

[princess-peregrine]

Hi! Saw your post on Storm Hawks fic requests and was wondering if you could do one with Cyclonis messing with Snipe?

I was kinda excited for this ask before I realized that I had, once again, no clue what to write for this. also please be aware that it’s shorter than the others and might have worse writing solely because I started it after midnight and I am half asleep right now. 

900+ words, Snipe gets called to Cyclonis’ chamber, he’s not quite in trouble but just a little bit

Snipe growled at the guards next to him. He knew they were mocking him. Fear was evident on his face, how could it not be. Cyclonis doesn't just call people to her throne room for nothing. Did he do something wrong? What could it be? Snipe racked his head trying to think if he did something wrong recently and couldn't think of a thing. Maybe it was a reward? For not ruining anything lately? No that couldn't be it, he knew he wasn't as smart as the others but he wasn't dumb enough to think Cyclonis would reward him for doing nothing. With one last gulp he pushed open the doors and slowly made his way inside. Cyclonis was where she always was, tinkering with her important machine.

“Master Cyclonis.” Snipe said, his throat dry. “You called for me, Master?”

Cyclonis paused and turned around, her hood slowly opening as she turned to reveal her face clearly, unamused. “I did. Do you know why, Snipe?”

“Uh,” Snipe rubbed his wrist, hesitant to answer. “Am I in trouble for something?”

“Not yet, Snipe.” Cyclonis said turning back around. “As you know I am in charge of everything around here. Including Crystal orders.” Snipe listened quietly, slowly gaining an idea as to why he was called. “Every Crystal that comes in and out of here and is produced here gets recorded. And every now and then I check to make sure that the workers in charge are doing their job right. NOW,” Cyclonis hissed, craning her head back to look at Snipe. “I'll ask again, do you know why I called you?”

Snipe winced under the pressure Cyclonis was exuding, the air growing heavier with her obvious irritation. Regardless he took a deep breath and did his best to stand straight. “Because I, ordered, Crystals wrong?”

At this answer Cyclonis relaxed her shoulders and let out an exhausted sigh. Getting upset at Snipe was too much effort, it would be like yelling at a wall. Only this time the wall would cry or beg, hearing that would only put strain on her. “You're an embarrassment.” Cyclonis said, grabbing a scroll out from her cloak as she walked towards Snipe. “You're orders are pre-made for you by me, right down to the last pebble for whatever job I assign you to. Do you know why?”

“Because, my handwritings bad?” Snipe said, slightly confused from not being yelled at or hurt like usual.

“That certainly is a part of it. Actually yes let's go with that.” Cyclonis unfurled the scroll and held it up for Snipe. “I was wondering why, next to the sixty blast nodes, was a request for a, and this is me reading what you wrote, a Soldars Crystal.” Cyclonis turned the paper back to her. “Yes, yes I'm reading that right. It even has a little drawing of a sun next to it. I assumed what you were trying to refer to, was this?” Cyclonis said, a bright yellow Crystal coming seemingly from nowhere appearing in her hand. “Am I right?”

Snipe gulped, and nodded quickly. “Yes Master Cyclonis.”

“This, Snipe,” Cyclonis shook the Crystal close to Snipes face. “is a Solaris Crystal. It has no offensive purpose other than blinding those around you. Do you still want it?” Cyclonis watched as Snipe once again braced himself, and to her surprise, gave a slight nod. Slow at first, hesitant she wouldn't give it to him, and soon nodding properly. Cyclonis lowered her arms, perplexed. “Alright Snipe, you can have it.” Tossing the Crystal to him, bouncing off his hands and causing him to do an exaggerated, frantic reaches to catch it. He finally caught it and brought it close to his face, a smile growing. “I wont ask what you plan to do with it, but know this.” Cyclonis hissed. “Solaris Crystals are rare, I expect it to be put towards good use. Should I find that it is wasted on your next mission, there will be consequences.”

“Oh you don't have to worry about me Master Cyclonis!” Snipe said much more full of energy than he was before. Confidence leaking into his words. “I'll make sure this Crystal doesn't go to waste.”

“I'm sure.” Cyclonis said as Snipe left the room. Once his footsteps were no longer heard she snapped her fingers, summoning a Night Crawler from the shadows, crawling down the wall. “You've been watching him, what has he been up to?” The Night Crawler creeped over and bowed before daring to speak.

“During his spare time he does nothing but train outside his quarters. And yell at one of his soldiers to retrieve a book from the library.” The Night Crawler hissed out.

“The library?” Cyclonis paused her work on her machine. “I doubt that brute has taken an interest in reading, and he doesn't seem to be any smarter. It is good to know that he can read however.” Cyclonis looked over to the bowing Night Crawler. “What was the book? Do you know?”

“Two books Master.” The Night Crawler hissed. “An encyclopedia on plants, and a children's first garden book. He has highlighted one of the plants, The Dioon Edule Zamiaceae.”

“I suppose this isn't an issue.” Cyclonis rubbed her temples. “Of all the things to take interest in. Alright, sneak a dictionary into his room and put it where he'll see it.” Cyclonis took out a pencil and paper and started writing. “And make sure this is on top of it.” Cyclonis then handed the Night Crawler a note that read, THIS IS REQUIRED READING, MASTERS ORDERS.

[phobiadeficient]

tea pot anon a second time! I was also wondering! when you have a lull in prompts, or if you felt like it, I would love to see, like a sniper/demo/scout one that focus on demo? I just think it would be neat! since you've done ones with scout and sniper as the focus, and all! no rush, of course, and only if you felt like it!

welcome to “demo has a self-stated alcohol problem and frankly his boyfriends are very worried about him and wish he would just talk to them instead of making himself sick”. a long one because demo deserves it (warnings for alcoholism and a brief situation of dubious consent, however it is not taken advantage of)

-

Demo’s head was pounding, and he blinked his eye open.

Alright. His own room. That was good. And he was clothed, in his pajamas, something very soft. And his mouth tasted absolutely terrible, and he had a splitting headache—not like migraines, like hangover. Not unusual. Maybe just worse than usual.

He was warm, maybe too warm, and seemed to be having a hard time pushing at his blankets. Weighty. He looked first to his right, and blinked when he saw a pair of dog tags a few inches from his nose—Scout was here, apparently—then craned his head to look to his left, and could just barely catch sight of Sniper, yawning, blinking awake.

He looked over, apparently noted that Demo was awake, and promptly reached to fumble on the bedside table, passing Demo a bottle of water first and foremost.

He took it gratefully, sitting up a bit while he drank so as not to drown himself, hoping to wash the bad taste from his mouth. Then he blinked down at Scout for a minute. Scout was in a cozy pair of pajamas, as was he, and even Sniper (who generally tried to sleep in the buff when he could get away with it) was in a sleep shirt and presumably pants. Despite feeling like absolute hell internally, he didn’t feel particularly disgusting.

“What’s…?” he tried to ask, even as his voice croaked, and he registered that his throat hurt.

Sniper nudged him back into lying down, taking the water bottle back gingerly, setting it down before he too laid down. Demo felt a little uncomfortable in the back of his mind at Sniper being in his blind spot, but he didn’t really have it in him to say anything, or to do anything about it.

“Me and the kid noticed you’ve been in a slump lately,” Sniper said softly. “I asked him to check up on you, see if you’d rather be around us for it, and he tracked you down and saw you’d nearly drank yourself to the floor. He pieced together that there was something wrong, bolted to go get me, brought me over, and we took care of you for the night.”

“Feel like utter shite,” Demo managed.

“Yeah,” Sniper said, as if he’d assumed. “You threw up, quite a lot. Cried. Kid couldn’t understand a word of it, but, I picked out pieces.”

His voice sounded sad, and that worried Demo, quite a lot.

He took a deep breath before continuing, yawned. “Scout managed to convince you to take a shower after all the mess that’d happened, got you in your pajamas and all, I brought some over for us two. He was worried we couldn’t leave you overnight, thought you’d… choke on your own throw-up, something like that. Told him we can’t die anyways, but… you know him. He worries.” A pause. “We both do.”

He felt queasy.

“We’re…” An inhale, an exhale, Sniper’s breath tickling at him. “We’re going to need to talk about it at some point. Not now, not while you’re still feeling like a buggering wreck and all. But at some point.”

“Do we, though?” Demo tried, tried to tint his voice with an amount of humor, a shot in the dark based on what he could hear of Sniper’s mood.

“You scared the absolute hell out of us, Tavish,” Sniper said, voice hushed, no humor, no joy, just terribly, terribly tired. A pause. “And we’re not… upset that this happens, that you have your off days. They happen, there’s only so much we can help that. But you scared the hell out of us because you didn’t say anything, didn’t try and… tell us, or ask for help, nothing. The only reason we knew something could be wrong was that Scout noticed you didn’t talk to Soldier very long yesterday after matches were up. That’s all we had to go on.”

Demo looked over at Scout, who was more often than not a light sleeper, and who hadn’t shifted even a little bit at their tossing and turning and talking, out like a light.

“We just… look, we’ll talk more about it later. And we aren’t angry. We’re just worried about you.”

Demo squeezed his eye shut.

“Just go back to sleep for now,” Sniper said quietly. “Headache?”

“Yeah,” Demo nodded.

“I’ll get somethin’ for that, be right back. Drink more water,” he directed, getting out of bed and putting the water bottle where he’d been.

Scout woke up before Sniper got back, shaken awake when Demo sat up to drink from the water bottle. “Hwhat?” he mumbled, blinking. “Hey. Hey, you’re up. Good mornin’. It’s morning?”

“It’s morning,” Demo assured, further ruffling his hair.

“Fuck.” Scout sat up as well, tucked himself into Demo’s side. And he was always a cuddler like that, always craved contact, but it was a bit much, even for him. “Hey, where’s Legs?”

“Went to get… headache medicine, I think,” Demo replied, took another drink, winced. “Told me I was a damn menace yesterday.”

“God, yeah,” Scout sighed. “What all’d he say?”

“A good bit,” Demo shrugged. “About the sick, and my throwing a wee bit of a tantrum.”

“Did he tell you about when you were getting pissed at me over the showering thing?” Scout asked, still having not come up for air from where he was cuddled into Demo’s shoulder and arm.

“Nae?”

“Goddamn, like… okay. Usually when we three get together it’s a thing we know about before it happens, and usually if we’re drinking we’re all drinking, but this time we were both just like—“

“Volume, doll,” Demo warned, wincing a little as his headache throbbed.

“Sorry,” Scout whispered. “Uh, but this time we were both stone cold sober and you just felt like total garbage, but then when you felt good enough that we could try and get you to take a shower without like, drowning, you started getting pissed off at us because you figured us not wanting to be all cuddly and kissy with you was our way of breaking up with you—like, seriously outta nowhere—and you kept insisting that you were totally fine and that you wanted to… first you were saying you wanted to blow Snipes, then I think you were asking me to do it? I dunno. But we kept saying no, because you were like gone and that would be fucked up, and you got like upset about it. But yeah. Kinda washed out your mouth and got even more annoyed and stuff, it was a nightmare.”

Demo felt guilt stabbing deep into his chest.

“Is that a thing you worry about a lot?” Scout asked gently. “That we’re gonna just, outta the blue break up with you?”

Demo didn’t know whether he should answer that honestly or not.

“We’re not gonna,” Scout said quietly, interpreting his silence. “Like, if anything isn’t that what we should be worried about? You’re the guy who’s wicked fuckin’ smart and can bench press me and is also just super nice to everyone, and real funny too. And sure, Snipes is hot and cool, and I’m a healthy young guy, but it’s like, c’mon. You’re way out of our league. We’re super lucky.”

“You’re gonna try and tell me, after that whole bloody nightmare I cannae damn well remember, there was no point of you wondering whether I’m worth the trouble, doll?”

Scout pulled back to level a look at him, all the more inescapable since he was directly in Demo’s line of sight. “Babe, remember that time I got all upset about shit because I thought you guys hated me because we had to cancel date night that one time and I forgot to get dinner and I was acting like the world was ending? Did you wanna break up with me over that?”

“No,” Demo admitted.

“Remember that time Snipes was talking about his shitty dad and growing up in Australia and getting all broken up about it because it sucked and he still isn’t over it? Did you wanna dump his ass on the curb over that?”

“No, but this is different.”

“It’s totally not though.”

“Damn it, Scout,” Sniper said, and Demo looked up and saw him closing the door behind him, a small box cradled in one arm. “Don’t have the conversation without me. And not while he’s hung over within an inch of his bloody life.”

“Had worse,” Demo defended, watching Sniper start fumbling his way through his little box.

While Medic was a well-trained certified medical genius, Sniper tended to take pride in his knowledge of home remedies. Demo was given simple mint and ginger candies for his nausea, honey to soothe his throat, and some sort of something to help speed up his hydration.

“Then this is just proper headache medicine,” Sniper said, shaking out two pills into his palm and offering them to Demo. “Take these with water, mind.”

“Can’t I wash it down with something stronger?” he asked.

“Stuff it, Tavish,” Sniper said sternly, and put the box aside, and once Demo had downed the medicine, he pulled him down back into bed, and Scout followed with no hesitation. “More rest, I think. Twenty minutes until the pills kick in, then you’ll be right as rain. And the kid needs sleep, besides.”

“Do not,” Scout protested around a yawn.

Demo didn’t argue, just letting the two of them hold him and trying not to feel guilty about it, even as he drifted back off.

-

He avoided the conversation as best he could. Mostly by distracting Scout, prompting him to continue whatever he was on about at any given point when the three of them were reasonably alone, knowing that as long as he wasn’t thinking about it he wouldn’t remember and Sniper wasn’t the type to cut him off to talk about more serious things. And on their usual date night, he showed up already well into tipsy, if still alert and comprehensible.

But then they cornered him, finding him in his workshop and plopping themselves down on either side of him at his bench and moving right into what they wanted with no time for him to redirect.

“Okay, so since you don’t wanna talk about the thing,” Scout started to say, and shushed him with a hand on his arm when he started to protest. “Nonono, no, listen, just hear me out. Since you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t gotta talk about it. Not for real. But me and Snipes still have some stuff we want you to know.”

“So we won’t talk about it,” Sniper agreed, hand on his shoulder, gentle but weighty. “We really won’t. Could you just follow us, darl? Please?”

Demo was suspicious, but not suspicious enough to disagree with them, not when they were making it pretty clear that they were letting him off the hook. So he just gently asked them to wait a few minutes and wrapped up what he was doing and put things away, then stood to follow them.

They led him into Scout’s room, a place they didn’t tend to frequent, a bit more cluttered than Demo’s room and with a slightly smaller bed, and less private than the camper van. Sniper sat down at Scout’s bed and gestured for Demo to join him, and he did.

“So what have you gone and dragged my arse to a secondary location for, then?” Demo asked, raising an eyebrow at Scout, who was digging through his closet across the room.

“Well,” Sniper started in carefully. “Remember that time this little bugger was having an awful day and we coddled him over it?”

“We figured, hey, you’re not into having a whole talk about stuff. That’s fair. But we gotta let you know we love you, though. So,” Scout shrugged, and came back with a box, roughly as big as a shoebox. “We’re just gonna try and give you a real good night to take your mind off stuff and help you feel better and then maybe you’ll… I dunno. It made sense when me and Snipes talked about it.”

“The idea is that we love you and we need you to know that,” Sniper simplified.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t need—“ Demo started to say, flustered.

“It’s not about whether you need it, Tavish, it’s about what you want,” Sniper sighed, stroking a hand down between his shoulder blades. “You’re allowed to want things. And what we want is to make you feel good, get your mind off things.”

“Please?” Scout asked, putting on his very best puppy-dog eyes for the effect. And damn it all, they almost never worked on Sniper, but they could convince Demo to do just about anything in a heartbeat.

“Fine, knock yourselves out,” he sighed, and moved to start stripping when Scout’s hands started nudging at his clothes insistently.

Soon he was just about bare, although he kept his eye patch on, as he tended to do, less out of embarrassment and more because the damn thing always got lost in the sheets. And Scout had stripped down to his own boxers and socks, and Sniper had at least stripped to his work pants, probably more for the sake of comfort than anything else.

Then Scout was pulling his arm, urging him into some position. He found himself on all fours above Scout, and the smaller man wrapped arms up over his shoulders and legs around his waist and kissed him full on the mouth with no small amount of enthusiasm.

Demo settled forward, already enjoying the way this was going, and was only idly surprised when he felt a pair of hands on his ass, parting exactly long enough to tilt his head up a bit.

“What’re you up to, Mundy?” he asked idly, like he didn’t have a flushed, athletic young man kissing across his well-bearded jaw and demanding his attention.

“Well, the gremlin’s been teasing me for a while about some toy he bought a month back and getting use out of when I’m “too grumpy to mess around”, see,” he quoted dryly, and Demo rolled his eye at the self-satisfied little grin Scout gave at that. “He gave me a spin on it, and it’s properly good. Thought it’s only fair you get to try it too. That awright?”

“Only if you promise not to enjoy the view too much,” Demo teased, wriggling enticingly before dipping back down to finally give Scout some more attention, chuckling at his enthusiasm.

He had to part for a moment to steady his breathing as Sniper started coaxing him open patiently on two fingers, and his brow furrowed a little bit as a familiar smell hit his nose. Like cinnamon, maybe, and why did he smell cinnamon—?

He gasped outright at the feeling of a mouth against him.

His thighs trembled a little, and he panted against Scout’s temple at the feeling of hands spreading him wide and a tongue setting to work, moving against him in patient, teasing throbs.

He’d honestly forgotten about the flavored lube. It hadn’t come up in a while.

“Feels good?” Scout asked gently, pulling back to look Demo in the eye, cupping his cheek. Demo nodded distractedly. “Good. We wanna make you feel good.”

“You do,” Demo managed, voice a little tight, jolting at a sudden press inward, inward, before Sniper pulled back and set to flat-tongued lapping again.

“Well, we wanna make you feel extra good,” Scout said petulantly, kissing him just below his eyepatch, and when had Scout unhooked his other arm? At some point, apparently, because then Scout has a hand around his dick and was moving in nice, steady tugs against him.

It had taken Scout a while to get used to dealing with an uncut dick, but once he figured out the basics, he was a bloody master at it, drawing the pad of his thumb against sensitive points as he gave steady pulls, milking precum out of him so easily it was almost embarrassing, spreading it all across the head.

The two-pronged assault had him shivering and shaking in ecstatic spasms, trying to jerk his hips and finding it difficult to stop himself.

“Mickey, you filthy-minded lanky bastard, I’m not lasting into you using that toy you’re on about if you keep doin’ that,” he warned almost desperately, an embarrassing squeak escaping him as the thumb that he’d been circling against his perineum pressed just a bit harder in response.

“Then go on, Tavish,” Sniper replied, kissing breathlessly at his tailbone before he dived right back in. Scout meanwhile leaned up to nip at his bottom lip, coaxing it from between Demo’s teeth as he tried to muffle himself.

“C’mon, you’ve got two rounds in you,” Scout urged, rhythm increasing and for a moment unintentionally matching the rhythm Sniper’s tongue was moving in, and that was it for him, shuddering and groaning, mouthing praises against Scout’s neck insistently as the lad tugged him right through it.

He was distantly aware of Scout squeezing the last drops free of him and smearing them against his own thigh before releasing Demo and moving to just wrap arms up around his shoulders again. Sniper detached, kneading soothingly at his thighs as he slowly came back down, breathing hard.

Demo managed to sit up a bit higher, hoping to address the both of them, then he saw the well-past-satisfied look on Scout’s face, and looked down a bit further and saw that Scout hadn’t bothered trying to catch Demo’s orgasm, instead letting it splatter out onto his own stomach and nearly up to his chest.

“You ever get tired of getting filthy just to look good?” Demo asked, admittedly feeling his face heat up as he looked at the sight.

“Nah,” Scout said smugly.

“Oh, what’s the damn kid gone and done now?” Sniper grumbled, leaning down next to the two of them and planting an elbow next to Demo’s, eyes widening a little at the sight. “…Christ, nevermind, carry on,” he said, leaning his cheek on his fist as he ogled.

“Pretty little thing, aye?” Demo asked, adjusting his weight to stroke a hand down Scout’s side, grinning at the shiver that drew out of him, Scout clearly all keyed up.

“You wanna talk about good-lookin’? I know I’ve got a mirror for you around here somewhere,” Scout replied, even if it wobbled a bit with Sniper’s free hand moving to tweak at his nipples. “Fuckin’—quit it, Snipes, c’mon.”

“Nah, nah, keep on, Mundy,” Demo urged, shifting to better balance as he moved a hand down between them to grip at Scout’s dick, hard and demanding, probably bordering on painful.

Scout jolted, a sound of pleasure punching out from deep in his chest, and he squirmed a little bit, breath picking up. “Y-you guys—hey, I thought we’re, this is Demo’s night, okay?” he tried, even muddled, even trying hard not to arch into Demo’s hand.

“You’re good for more than one round,” Demo taunted, echoing the earlier sentiment. He leaned down to murmur right into Scout’s ear, enjoying the shiver he gave at it. “And besides, lad, I think I’d really get a kick out of you makin’ an even bigger mess all over yourself, aye? Hearin’ you moan for it. Gorgeous little thing.”

Scout bucked, and spilled, and moaned just as he’d been asked to, embarrassed and defeated.

“Mmm. Lovely,” Demo purred, and Scout just burrowed into his neck to hide, face bright red. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, lad. Especially since you bounce back so quick after, see?”

Scout grumbled something at that.

“You hangin’ in there, Mickey?” Demo asked, looking over at Sniper, who looked very pleased with himself, stroking a palm over Scout’s ribcage where there wasn’t much mess.

“Enjoyin’ the show, Tavish,” he replied evenly, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze. “And seems like you are too.”

He wasn’t as young as he used to be, but Scout did tend to make a nice view, and his body was starting to react again upon seeing it, member growing heavier between his thighs once more. “I am,” he agreed.

“Care to take a spin on that toy, now?” Sniper suggested.

“Where’s that leave you?” Demo asked, eye flicking down to glance at where Sniper’s pants were growing properly snug.

“Buggering the prettyboy’s mouth once he’s found it again, I’d bet,” Sniper said, reaching up to stroke his thumb across Scout’s bottom lip. Sometimes that was a great way to get Scout to bite you, but now he’d been unraveled enough that instead he leveled a heated look at Sniper, moving instead to lick at it partingly. “Yeah, isn’t that right? There’s a beauty.”

Sniper returned to his previous position behind Demo, slicking something up and spreading him open with one hand. “Slow, now,” Demo warned.

“Oh, ‘course,” Sniper agreed, and then something slightly chillier than the room was pressing at him, then pressing in.

Scout helped distract him from the odd feeling of it by laying kisses all across the underside of his jaw where beard started to fade to neck, nose tickling where it brushed. Demo jolted as the toy pressed just right, and he heard Sniper chuckle behind him, and felt his face burning again.

“Ready, then?” Sniper asked, smoothing hands down the outside of Demo’s thighs.

“Give him a minute, Legs,” Scout warned, then set back in again.

“Think I’m probably ready,” Demo said hesitantly, frowning a bit.

“Hah! No you aren’t,” Scout scoffed knowingly. “Like, three more minutes. Trust me.”

Sniper continued on with teasing touches across his thighs and ass, and finally made an impatient little noise. There were sounds of shuffling, then Sniper was back, much closer, grinding at the back of his thigh idly while he continued spidering hands all over his skin. Demo was starting to feel a bit warm, a bit sensitive again, and it was then that Sniper’s hands fell down to the base of the toy again, hesitating, waiting for something.

Demo startled a bit when he realized what it was. “Go on then,” he urged, rocking back for emphasis.

Sniper obliged, and the toy clicked to life, and his breath caught.

It wasn’t necessarily the strongest vibration he’d ever felt in his life, but pressed just there against his prostate, humming steadily and unrelentingly, it had him feeling overwhelmed within moments.

He sagged against Scout, moaning and mouthing nonsense into his collarbone, more desperate noises rising up from the back of his throat. Scout pet encouragingly over his shoulders, saying all sorts of sweet little things that Demo could barely process when it felt like his soul was about to damn near leave his fucking body.

He jolted as Sniper reached around and beneath him to cup and roll at his balls and to fist his erection in steady motions, grinding idly against his thigh again, not demanding, not really even asking, just scratching an itch. Not that Demo could particularly pay attention to it.

The first time getting off wasn’t a problem, but this second time often ended with the other two being finished first and needing to end him off with a hand or mouth. At one point Scout had finished while Demo was fucking him and he’d urged Demo to fuck the space between his thighs, and that was damn nice. The point was, though, often his stamina on the second go-around could be an inconvenience.

This time, he was concentrating hard on not coming undone within five damn minutes of the thing being turned on.

The two of them went easy on him, at least, sensing that all of this was bordering on being too much for him, movements slow and gentle, handling him like he was something delicate, and had they not so carefully pulled him apart at the very seams he might’ve had it in him to be irked by it, but as it was he couldn’t help but agree.

“Good?” Scout asked softly, pressing a kiss below his eyepatch again, and it was only then that Demo processed the tears leaking out of the corner of his good eye and dripping to land in Scout’s hair.

“So good,” he agreed, practically wheezed, and now he was the one hiding his face in Scout’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He absentmindedly worried a mark into Scout’s neck, distantly feeling the edge creep into view, and he heard Sniper whisper some kind of encouragement and felt Scout’s arms tighten around him before he finally careened over it, crying out in his pleasure, hips jolting raggedly as he tried to chase the high for just a little bit longer.

For a bit, he couldn’t process much of anything. The toy was out, and he was lying on his side, cradled between the two of them, held tightly. His breath was shuddery.

“We’ve got you, Tav,” Sniper was murmuring, gentle and soft.

“We love you,” Scout was assuring, quiet and tender.

And he drifted off like that, and couldn’t seem to remember a single time he’d ever felt sad in his life, his chest far too full to make way for bad memories.

God, he loved them.

[eusouomar]

Batman Rogue of your choice

I live! Let’s answer some asks before Phlebotomy swallows me whole again!

Batman Rogue of my choice? Obviously I have to go with my favorite. Jonathan Crane aka The Scarecrow!

How I feel about this character

Holy shit how much time do you have? I’ve loved this character ever since I re-entered the Batman fandom about say almost thirteen or fourteen years ago. First of all the idea of “the nerd from hell” as he was called on deviantart really spoke to me. Add to the fact that I had major anxiety disorders for most of my life and I had just taken my first college psych course and I really fell in love with him. He still remains one of my favorite Batman villains, if not just in general comic villains, to this day and I’ll get all ranty if he’s written incorrectly because I’ve grown attached to different source materials.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Nobody that really comes to mind although I would love to see Jon in a relationship. Love and fear have a lot of overlaps especially early on. Plus we know from some of his backlore stories that he was/is a romantic.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

So freakin’ many. First of all the traditional 3bro pairing of him, Riddler, and Mad Hatter. Three intellectual book nerds sniping at each other. Lovely.

There’s also the unholy psychology trinity of him, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Jeremiah Arkham. I live for the few scraps of Jeremiah-Jonathan brotp that exist here on tumblr.

Finally I never thought Scarecrow and Kite-Man would belong in the same sentence but the few panels I’ve seen from City of Bane have just blown me away. Hell yeah.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

That depends on what you define as unpopular. If we’re going by Tumblr standards this isn’t that unpopular at all but if you’re going by what I am unafraid to DC Comics and die hard comic nerds that I meet at cons? Stop. Writing. Jon. As. A. Just. A. Psychopath.

It’s WAY more in character as a man obsessed with fear who embraces it and just wants other people to embrace it as well. Die hard comic nerds LOVE this one dimensional aspect of Jon as a man who’s only thought is about fear but the best Scarecrow stories are ones that remember that he’s also a survivor of abuse who was bullied relentlessly as a child and is an avid professor (or almost professor depending on the writer) of psychology. He doesn’t even gas Kite-Man when Kite-Man admits that he’s scared of Batman because Kite-Man just owns the fear and Jon’s like ‘Yeah, sounds legit’.

Other amazing things about our favorite Master of Fear?  

He once escaped Arkham and started a new life as an English teacher in a university. When he finds that one of his students has been “victimized” (it’s a kid’s comic but it’s highly implied that she was raped) he hunts down her rapist and tortures him with a variety of fear toxins. Batman stops him before he can kill the rapist.

Another comic shows Crane in an effort to ransom the city by creating a device that makes people illiterate. When Robin points out that Crane, a professor in his previous life, hasn’t spread fear but only ignorance the effect on him is so powerful that he tears up and gives up the device to Robin. 

Finally a third comic shows him gassing a girl and when she yells out for her bullies to stop picking on her it makes him remember his own childhood. Sure he doesn’t make things better when he stitches her a Scarecrow costume of her own and join him as his Mistress of Fear but he’s clearly capable of empathy.

Tl;dr: There’s more to the Scarecrow than just causing fear for the hell of it. He’s a complex character and I wish people would demand that in his stories instead of clapping like seals for writers doing the bare minimum. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Man, after Catwoman, Man-Bat, Riddler, Clayface, Mr. Freeze, Harley Quinn, and Poison Ivy have all one point tried to “go good” and team up with Batman I really really need a good guy Scarecrow team up story. Crane would drive Batman absolutely crazy and I am here for every minutes of it. Like most Batman Rogues he and Bats are two sides of the same coin: Fear as both a Weapon and a Motivator. This will probably never happen though so I’m down for any other Scarecrow team ups besides him and Joker. That one has been done to death.

[brandyxlynn91]

Galaxies Together pt. 6

Garrus was feeling a little down that Jane hadn't come visit him since taking down the doctor. He had told her he needed time to think but he had still hoped she'd continue her frequent visits. They were always the highlight of his time on the Normandy when they weren't out shooting Geth.

"What's wrong, turian? Missing a certain female commander?" Wrex teased from across the bay.

Shit, he noticed. Garrus thought but before he could retort they heard Jane on the comm.

"Wrex. Garrus. Suit up. We're reaching Feros." She told them.

Well, at least I'll get to see her and get some geth action, Garrus thought as he smiled.

As soon as they exited the Normandy, they saw geth attacking some colonists. They immediately stepped into action. He and Jane sniped the geth from a distance while Wrex did his usually deadly head butting whenever his shotgun started overheating. Afterwards, Garrus stole a glance at Jane but before he could say anything she had started running towards the colonists. After talking with the leader they learned that they were a small colony on the planet with the exogeni research facility. The leader told them that their big problem was the geth transmitter in the tunnels and they had mediocre problems that the other colonists could tell them about. Jane decided she wanted to talk to them. Upon doing so they found out they had a water shortage, a need for power cells, and a problem with an alpha varren. Upon asking about the colonists odd behavior, the leader just excused it as an effect of the geth attacks though Garrus noticed Jane didn't seem convinced. He also told them not to worry about the menial problems but Jane seemed determined to help them with everything. Yet again she showed such compassion even though it wasn't necessary of her. Garrus had learned to admire that about her, he even stopped arguing about it or pointing it out and just went along with it.

Inside the tunnels and through a doorway, they ran into the alpha varren and after taking the pack down and grabbing power cells, Jane mentioned something about wanting a varren as a pet. He thought she was joking but realized she was probably crazy and tough enough to handle one. Further into the tunnels, she had turned on the water pumps and they ran into a lone colonist. He seemed like he was trying to warn them about something but then he started yelling at himself and Garrus thought he was plain crazy. Jane tried to offer him help but he claimed she couldn't do anything and stopped talking. They then took out the transmitter and headed back. The colonists seemed grateful but were still acting odd. They decided it would be best to head for the exogeni facility, along the way Jane took out geth with the mako guns again, even though a few times he swore she was going to drive off the edge. They intercepted radio chatter and found some of the scientists holed up. Two of them were arguing about what to do. The woman seemed to be worried about her daughter and the man was telling her to forget about it. Jane told the woman she'd keep a lookout for her and upon asking they claimed not to know why the geth were attacking. After telling them to stay hidden, they continued to head towards the facility. Upon exiting the mako in the garage, a gunshot had barely missed Jane. Garrus immediately aimed his gun at the direction to see a scared young woman.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I thought you were a geth or varren." She apologized profusely.

"Look. It's fine. Just try not to do it again." Jane told her.

"Who are you?" Garrus inquired. He wasn't happy about her almost shooting Jane and was still holding up his gun.

"Easy Garrus. It was an accident. I'd be jumpy too if I was her." Jane told him.

"I- again I'm so sorry. My name is Lizbeth. I was trying to finish up some data when we evacuated and got stuck behind this forcefield." She timidly replied.

"Lizbeth? Your mother was looking for you." Jane told her then turned to Garrus. "Seriously, you can put the gun down."

"She's alive? Thank God." Lizbeth said gratefully.

"Do you know what's causing this forcefield?" She asked the girl.

"I think they have a ship powering it." She told them.

"Alright. Stay here. Guys, let's go take down this forcefield." Jane told them.

"I hope it involves blowing something up!" Wrex exclaimed.

"Probably. but we just got done blowing up geth on the bridge." Jane told him.

"Yeah but that was like over 20 minutes ago, Shepard." Wrex said while both she and Garrus just shook their heads while they headed into the building.

They took out the geth room by room until they came into a room where it looked like the geth was worshipping some kind of tech. They were puzzled about it but decided they needed to move on. They finally happened upon where the geth ship was attached to the building. Upon reading a note, they learned the bay doors that the ship's legs were attached to were being glitchy. Jane used this to her advantage to make the doors slam down on them, making the whole ship fall and blow up.

"Look at that. Your girly human is pretty resourceful." Wrex told Garrus while nudging him.

"Knock it off." Garrus told him even though he had grown impressed with how she handled situations like that.

"You guys say something?" Jane asked.

"Yeah! You sure know how to show a krogan a good time, Shepard. I mean we get to shoot geth and blow up their ships. Whoo!" Wrex exclaimed. At least he hasn't let Jane know about his teasing and suspicions Garrus thought. Jane just smiled at him and for some reason that made Garrus lose himself for a moment. After a little banter, they decided to go ask about this Thorian creature they found out about from the VI. Upon asking Lizbeth about the thorian, she confessed that it was some creature they found that seems to have mind control powers and the real reason she stayed behind was to try to get a message out because she didn't agree with using the colonists as test subjects.

Down the road, they heard arguing on the comm again and upon investigating they saw the man aiming his gun at the woman. Lizbeth ran over there before Jane could stop her so they were forced to show themselves. The man was yelling about exogeni forgetting them and that they were expendable in a panic. Jane somehow managed to use her charm to calm him down although Garrus would've personally preferred to shoot him. She told him she knew about the thorian and the colonists. He confessed to his involvement while the woman seemed generally confused. He told them that the thorian was under the colony but its control over the colonists would force them to die defending it from being found. Jane expressed the desire to find a way to not harm the colonists when the woman inquired that she could concoct a gas for their grenades that would simply knock them out. Jane agreed to it after finding out it wouldn't affect them at all.

"Remember do not kill the colonists." Jane told them.

"Are you sure this will work?" Garrus asked her. He was a bit skeptical.

"Well, we'll find out. Just don't shoot them. They're under mind control of that creature." She told him before they headed out. There she goes being all compassionate again he thought as he smiled. It used to annoy him as a hindrance but now he was happy to comply with her wishes.

Once reaching the colony, some zombie like thralls that were beyond saving were mixed with the colonists. Garrus and Wrex carefully shot down the thralls while Jane perfectly threw the knockout gas at the colonists. Upon reaching the crane control and lifting part of the building up to reveal a hidden tunnel the colony leader showed up with a gun. They all pointed their guns back. Jane tried reasoning with him but he was incoherently talking about being controlled before shooting himself in the head. Jane looked away for a moment and seemed bothered she couldn't help him before leading them into the tunnels. Upon entering they came across a giant plant like entity that spread throughout the tunnels.

"We're gonna need bigger guns." Jane expressed.

Then a green looking asari was spit out from the creature. The asari told them that Saren struck a deal with the thorian in exchange for a cipher for the prothean beacon, he would leave the thorian be. She then tells them that Saren betrayed it by sending the geth to attack it to prevent Jane from getting the cipher. The asari then called them meat bags and attacked. After taking her and the thralls down, Jane started shooting at the thorian roots attached to the walls. Garrus realized what she was doing and he and Wrex shot down the thralls as they came at her until she finally shot enough roots to knock it down, killing it. After wards, the asari came from a pod in the wall. She explained that she was with benezia and was left as a gift for the thorian from Saren. She then told them she could give Jane the prothean cipher for the beacon and linked with her just like Liara had done before. Jane seemed a little drained afterwards but said she was fine when Garrus asked. He wasn't sure if she really was but decided not to push it but he kept an eye on her as they headed out. Upon exiting they saw the scientists had rejoined the colonists. The colonists thanked them after they were asked if they were okay. The colonists and scientists told them they were gonna stay behind and rebuild. Jane double checked to see if they were okay before they headed back to the Normandy.

In conference, Liara offered to join minds again to see if the cipher helped. Afterwards she said it seemed to be a warning but still didn't understand what it meant.

Later on in the cargo bay, Garrus heard the elevator and was delighted to see Jane.

"Hey Garrus. You up for talking?" She asked.

"Yeah." He replied, trying to act casual despite his joy. "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" She asked, seeming confused.

"Yeah. After what happened with the doctor, I've been thinking I might go back to C-sec. Of course, not before we take down Saren." He told her. It looked like she seemed conflicted for a moment but then she smiled.

"That's great!" She exclaimed.

"Yeah. You make fighting for the innocent seem a little easier than it felt before. I see everything you do and how you stick to your convictions has inspired me. I don't think I've met anyone like you before. I just--" He was telling her before he heard Kaidan on her comm asking her to come up.

"Yeah. One minute, Kaidan." She replied into her comm. "I'm sorry. You were saying?" She said turning back to Garrus.

"Uh, nothing. Just like I said I wanted to thank you and I can't wait to take down Saren." He said, feeling a little disappointed.

"Okay. Well, I'm proud of you, Vakarian." She told him before heading back.

"Well, that went smooth." Wrex laughed from his corner.

"You guys know that Alenko is sweet on her, right?" He heard Ashley say from the lockers.

"Oh. Looks like you have competition, pyjak." Wrex teased him.

"No. It's not like that." Garrus replied, defensively. Of course, he's sweet on her. He thought. Who wouldn't be? She's beautiful, strong, smart, charming, and resourceful. Then he shook himself off trying to get rid of those thoughts. Thinking she'd rather be with someone of her own kind anyways.

[madegeeky]

So, on @docholligay discord @moonwhing, @thoughtfulfuri, and Yurie were talking about a Mummy/Sailor Moon crossover. Minako as Rick, Rei as Evie, Haruka as Ardeth. And I put forth Michiru has Johnathon. It would be a very different sibling relationship and she'd bring a very different energy to the scenes but I actually think it'd work quite well. Here’s some thoughts/scenes I wrote in the chat and wanted to save (done in the order they appeared in chat, not plot-wise):

Michiru is Rei’s half sister who just wanders around collecting exotic treasures and shows up periodically to snipe with Rei and/or to show off a treasure she found “without having to dig in the dirt like someone who wasn’t given the best advantages money could offer". 

You know Michiru would love to get Mina arrested.

Michiru at the card game, dressed impeccably, holding the cards primly as Minako walks up. Random American, "So I hear you're also going to Hamunaptra." Minako's expression doesn't change, "Where'd you hear that from?" The man points to Michiru. "Oh dear," Michiru says, daintily covering her mouth with one gloved hand. "How clumsy of me to let such information slip." Minako does not, for a single second, believe her.

Michiru, hair and outfit an absolute mess as she runs around with the Book of the Dead/Life, "I hate to interrupt your lovely reunion but unlike you, Rei, I have a life outside of books and so if you want to live it would behoove you to tell me how to pronounce this crane hieroglyph."

"Ah, yes, Mina. Locking Rei in her room so that you can go rushing off to save the day, this surely won't end poorly." Later, after walking into the room to see Imhotep trying to kiss Rei, "How shocking. Surely no one could have predicted that Rei, of all people, would somehow still find trouble in a locked room." Turning to Rei, "And Rei, what would Father say, alone in a room with a stange man? He may be dead but we can tell by his reactions that not all of him is as dead as one would wish."

"I would quite literally rather suffer every single plague twice over than be tied to a plane wing and then flown to my death. But, please, if this is something you feel you need to do to save the day, far be it from me to stop you. Meanwhile, I'm going to go do the sensible thing and hire a pilot with an airplane that doesn't look two minutes away from collapsing from a mild wind and who is only moderately drunk. Some of us,” Michiru sends a cool glance that rakes Mina from head to foot, “have the means to do things the proper way.”

[kaaramel]

weekly chunk of nobiliswriting as promised

like i’ve been saying it’s unpolished unedited i have no word count goals et cetera

Lazy eddies of sand blew in the wind, tiny dust-sprites creeping out from their hiding places and giggling nervously as they leapt and spiraled over the site of the battle. The earth had been battered and scoured, rocks blasted to powder, by the fury of the forces that had been brought to bear. Trees and scrubby, wasted bushes had been uprooted, or their foliage shredded, or their existence itself bleeding away to oblivion in fractal, unreal patterns.

In the world of the strictly mundane, a vulture circled against the noon-bright sky and began to descend; bolder than his fellows, or hungrier. He landed, ruffled his feathers, examined the corpse before him with a critical, practiced eye.

It was not an ordinary thing -

It was like nothing he had ever experienced -

When he reached below the curving ribs with no greater ambition in his thoughts than snatching a scrap of organ meat more tender than the dry and toughened scraps that clung to the outside of the twisted corpse -

there was a great wind.

There was a great rushing wind from all directions, a wind warmed by the miles of desert it had crossed as if to seek him out, him alone of all vultures, him in this time and this place. It was wind full of a thousand stinging grains of sand that drove through him like razors, but no pain; a fountain of power that bore him upward more strongly than the warmest thermals and an outpouring of knowledge that filled him with wonder as the scope of his understanding, of his universe, filled him and unfolded like a flower.

The bang of a gunshot, and the breeze of the bullet streaking past the vulture’s head, snapped him out of the dizzying rush of enlightenment.

He fumbled his way airborne with a harsh, guttural squawk of surprise, craning his neck to see where the sudden attack had come from.

The human - was it human? Some new instinct, floating up from the rushing churning knot of wind that seems to have settled in his chest, was screaming danger like nothing he’d ever seen - had paler skin than the humans he was used to seeing, and a single shock of shoulder-length hair the vivid red of fresh arterial blood, falling in a smooth curtain of one side of its face like its head had been torn grotesquely open. It grinned and resettled the long rifle against its shoulder. Called out to him in a warm, friendly tone, almost musically - “Sorry about that, love!” Its eyes were black from edge to edge, speckled with points of light like the sky on a clear night. “Won’t miss this time!”

The vulture almost fell right back out of the sky, this time in shock that he’d heard and understood the weird human babbling, but there was no time to be amazed; only flap, dodge, climb, flee this place.

His mind continued to reel, as much from the changes to himself as from absurd, impossible situation. He’d never felt this strong and confident in the air; every stroke of a wing was a powerful thunderclap of motion, and it felt as though the air was shaping itself around him like a living thing, to welcome him and lift him up. The result was erratic and uncertain as he underestimated, overcompensated, hunted wildly for the limit of his vastly expanded capabilities. But since the attacking ‘human’ didn’t know where to aim moment to moment any more than the vulture understood where he was going, himself, it was buying him time. It wouldn’t last.

Another bullet; this one all but clipped his tailfeathers, and he panicked, would probably have stalled if the wind hadn’t caught him and borne him up again, hot and strong under his cupped wings. If he only understood where this power was coming from and how to use it! Fleeing through the air was the only choice. Should he go for distance? Height? Both? He was afraid that flying anywhere in a straight line would make him too vulnerable. There was no cover; they were at the epicenter of the blasted and ruined land.

No, wait; that wasn’t entirely true; there was a human vehicle parked at the edge of the scoured zone, behind his attacker. The nearest human settlements were a fair distance away; would the human sabotage its own transportation to get at him?

The vulture was dreadfully afraid the answer was “yes,” but it was a better chance than nothing.

He dove, and the hot wind welcomed him down, skipped and frolicked beside him, urged him on. The human spun, shot wildly, missed, and then he was away. The vulture flung himself to the ground, pressed himself low, beak open to gasp for breath. More than simply recovering from that little burst of acrobatics he tried to think, to understand who and what and why this hunter was. If he could just have time, a little time - he could almost understand it, the knowledge coursing through the grains of sand that were dancing and spiraling around him even now.

“Cicely, seriously, pathetic,” a sardonic voice called, from inside the vehicle. It sounded like a person leaning out the driver’s side window, maybe, similar enough to the voice of the human with the gun to sound familiar, and of course there’d be two of them. “Do we need target practice on something easier for awhile? Like, a Serpent, maybe?”

“How ‘bout you help instead of running your mouth, jackass,” ‘Cicely’ shouted back. Still almost good-naturedly. It didn’t seem like either of them was taking this seriously. “I’m covering high, get out and flush our new pal. Or shoot it yourself, whatever.”

Did they think he was stupid, or unable to walk, or did they just not care that they were shouting their strategy aloud to each other? The vulture scuttled along the ground with an airborne creature’s loping and awkward ground-gait, feathers prickling as he waited for the final bullet to descend, but the two seemed happy to keep their sniping verbal for the moment. “Oooh, you’re asking for help? Just making sure I heard that right. Thought I was s’posedta stay out of the way?”

“Shut up, Caraway, seriously, we ain’t got time for this.”

“It’s one baby Power and it’s, like, a bird, Ciss, I can handle it.”

Sound of the door opening, and the vulture craned its neck to look, freezing. ‘Caraway’ was another pale-skinned, black-eyed, intensely red-haired human, and apart from incomprehensible and meaningless differences in their clothing he couldn’t interpret, the main thing distinguishing it from Cicely was the curl and volume of its hair, which nevertheless spilled carelessly over half of its face in a similar way. The new hunter slid out onto the sand, brushed the blood-red curls out of its face, and brought its rifle up; halted, and an equally vivid eyebrow raised in surprise.

“Uh, Ciss? Two Powers.” It was impossible to say for sure where that night-sky eye was looking, but the barrel of the gun rose a fraction, pointed at something above and behind the vulture. “Hey, good of you to join us.”

“The fuck?” Cicely called back, and from the sound of footsteps began circling around the jeep to see for itself. He didn’t look around - staring down a gun barrel had a way of concentrating one’s focus - but there were footsteps somewhere close behind him, too, in what he could have sworn was nothing but empty space. Surrounded! He almost leapt into the air then and there. Caraway’s rifle was wavering uncertainly between him and whoever the newcomer was. Just because this was someone his hunters were also willing to point a gun at didn’t mean the arrival was necessarily good news. “We’ve got room in the back for two. What’re you waiting for?” Cicely came into view around the side of the vehicle, scowling. “Bastard popped in from nowhere, might just jump out again,” was the laconic reply, but now the lazy unconcern sounded a touch forced. “Also I wanna know what they’re up to. Hey, Goldilocks, you too good to talk to Excrucians, or what?” Another step closer, crunching on the sand, and the newcomer spoke, quiet enough that the vulture had to strain to hear. “Trust me and I’ll get you out of here. If you can make any kind of distraction, do it.”

A distraction? The desert-hot wind frolicked around him, tugged impatiently at his feathers, and he had the disorienting impression it was begging like an openmouthed hatchling, eager to be of use. Yes, he could do that.

“Woulda thought you damn aristocrats would jump at the chance to keep us talking, but hey, your loss,” and now there was a definite note of uncertainty in Caraway’s voice, and the faintest tremble in the slender hands holding the rifle. Nevertheless, the fingers shifted and tensed in preparation to fire, the hollow-socket void of an eye narrowed -

The vulture mantled his wings, and the wind that had been tamely frolicking beneath them rushed past in a roaring, blinding stream, whipping the dry sand into a frenzy. The twin hunters shouted - Cecily cursing and firing blindly, Caraway shrieking in what sounded like genuine fear. The vulture felt rather than saw how the wind lanced sharp-edged debris at their faces, and tugged and beat at their rifles, turning the muzzles aside with the intelligence of a living thing.

Meanwhile, the presence behind him ran forward, uncannily surefooted through the howling storm, and scooped him into its arms without a pause, as if this was a practiced maneuver rather than wild improvisation. There was no room to flap his wings in the awkward, crushing hold. He managed to set his talons in the human’s arm and cling there. Why were they still running forward? Was this some elaborate ruse to capture him anyway? With its free hand, the human holding him reached out and shoved Caraway backward into the still-open doorway of the vehicle. It tumbled back with a shriek, and,

all at once,

the wind died, and the world was green.

The human’s grip on the vulture relaxed almost immediately, and it held him out at arm’s length, allowing him to adjust into a more natural posture. He teetered for a moment, hunched his wings for balance, and perched there, flicking his beak warily in all directions, taking it in.

At first all he could process was green, green, green. Moss on the walls and grass underfoot, flowers, shrubs, rich and damp and unfamiliar. They were standing in a pocket of rock, sheer cliffs to three sides, and before them was a gently sloping path downwards, deeper into the canyon of green.

The breeze here was cool, gentle, and humid. He hadn’t lost the sense of his wind, the hot, dry, scouring wind that had protected him, but it was distant, faint. He could feel it promising, in its insubstantial way, to find him.

He stopped peering around and fixed the human with an accusatory gaze, working his beak for a moment. After everything, it was hardly even a surprise when human-style speech emerged.

“What the fuck.”

[marmolita]

werewolves of eos 1/?

@ravus-week teaser time!  I didn’t get this done in time for day 2 but I figured I’d post the first bit of it as a teaser, then the rest when I get it done as part of a free day.  This was written as a fill for a prompt on the kinkmeme for Ravus/Ardyn WEREWOLVES, and since it’s just about Halloween and it’s also Modern AU day, the time is right.  No warnings.

Ravus/Ardyn, Explicit, day 2: modern AU

Ravus isn't entirely sure what it is about Ardyn Izunia that keeps him coming back for more.  Perhaps it's those golden eyes, the color so unusual that they remind him of some sort of wild animal.  Perhaps it's his powerful hands, when his nails rake down Ravus's back like claws.  Or perhaps it's the jaunty set of his hat and the knowing curve of his smile, the predatory gleam in his eye that changes to laughing glee when Ravus finds himself caught.

Whatever it is, it's what drives Ravus to show up three nights a week at the library-themed bar in his neighborhood on the west side of Gralea, where he's sure to find Ardyn sipping a cocktail that's 95% liquor and poring over historical fiction.  He'll get a lecture about everything that the author got wrong, and Ardyn will laugh every time Ravus demonstrates his own knowledge of relevant historical details -- that history doctorate he's been working on is good for something, after all -- and then Ardyn will take him home and fuck him into oblivion.

Just like tonight.  It's warm in Ardyn's house, a rare unattached single family home that backs up to the park, warm enough to be edging on hot when Ardyn pushes him face down on the rug next to the fireplace.  "What did I do to deserve a lovely creature like you, hmm?" Ardyn rumbles in his ear as he rubs himself against Ravus's ass.  As usual, Ravus is completely naked before Ardyn's even taken off his damn scarf; at least the hat is gone, tossed carelessly onto the coat rack earlier.  Ravus still isn't sure how Ardyn manages to successfully land that damn hat on one of the hooks every time, even when he's not looking because he's busy sticking his tongue down Ravus's throat.

"You got my attention with that debate about whether or not the fourth king of Lucis was secretly sleeping with the first Niflheim emperor," Ravus says, trying to make sure his voice sounds even and not as ridiculously turned on as he actually is.  "Have you forgotten?"

"Of course not," Ardyn replies, leaving a trail of biting kisses down the back of Ravus's neck.  He arches into the touch, always eager for more though he's loath to admit it.  As badly as Ravus wants Ardyn -- and Ardyn knows it, he makes that clear every time -- he's not the sort of person to be able to just <i>say</i> so.

(Lunafreya tells him every time she calls that he needs to be more open about his feelings.  Then again, she's a therapist by day and a spiritual healer by night, so she thinks everyone needs to be more open about their feelings.  He hasn't quite found the right way to tell her that he's been regularly sleeping with an older man whose phone number he doesn't even have, because he can't get over himself enough to ask for it.)

Ardyn pulls back, and for a moment Ravus's back is a little cooler without the heat of his body above him.  Finally, Ardyn is stripping, and Ravus cranes his neck to get a look.  He looks strong and dangerous by the light of the fire, his auburn hair backlit and glowing like a mane around his head.  When he leans back down, his thick chest hair tickles Ravus's back pleasantly, but he's more interested in the hot weight of Ardyn's cock resting between his cheeks.  Ardyn's hand closes around his hip and hauls him up to hands and knees, then before Ravus even has a chance to prepare himself, Ardyn is sliding back behind him and he can feel the hot puff of Ardyn's breath on his ass.

"Have I told you before how much I appreciate that you're always clean and ready for me?" Ardyn murmurs, his lips brushing against Ravus's skin.  "One would almost think that our repeated meetings aren't a coincidence at all."  Ardyn knows very well they're not a coincidence, but Ravus doesn't even need to snipe at him about it because Ardyn's tongue is on him, lapping across his hole, and it feels so good any attempt at words just comes out a low groan.

Ardyn gets him sloppy and wet, fucking him open with his tongue, then his fingers.  By the time he pushes his cock in, Ravus is digging his fingers into the thick rug to keep from touching himself and there's a small puddle of precome under him that's probably going to leave a stain.  Ardyn has an enormous cock, by far the biggest Ravus has ever had the pleasure of taking, and no matter how many times they fuck it always takes a while to get it all the way in.  Sometimes Ravus just wishes Ardyn would rush it, thrust in hard and fast and damn the consequences, but no matter how rough their sex gets, Ardyn never actually <i>hurts</i> him.  He'll bite, and he'll scratch, and he'll hold Ravus down with his full body weight, but he never breaks the skin.

"There we go," Ardyn murmurs soothingly as he slides in the last inch.  "You always take it so well."

"Just fuck me already," Ravus growls back at him.  Ardyn laughs and gives him what he wants.  He digs his fingers into Ravus's hips and yanks him backward onto his cock, then starts fucking him in long, hard rolls of his hips.  If he touched himself, or if Ardyn reached around to stroke him, Ravus is pretty sure he'd come within the first twenty seconds.  That's why they both know not to.

Ardyn fucks him according to his own desires, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, sometimes pressing their hips tight together and just <i>grinding</i>, until Ravus is trembling and panting.  It's late in the evening, and the waxing gibbous moon shines bright through the window where Ardyn's left the curtains pulled back.  Ravus notices because it's the only thing he can see from his position on the floor, beyond the legs of the end table in front of him and the roaring fire.  He thinks, absurdly, that Lunafreya is probably working on gathering supplies for her upcoming group healing, performed only under the full moon.  What would she think if she knew that while she worked to help people heal their minds and bodies, he was here, letting Ardyn fuck him and use him and loving every second of it?

"Is your mind wandering?" Ardyn breathes against his ear.  "I must not be fucking you hard enough."  He drops down, one arm on either side of Ravus's shoulders, and buries his face in Ravus's neck.  There's something about the feeling of Ardyn on top of him that makes Ravus's heart beat faster, something dangerous about the scrape of teeth against his neck that makes his cock throb.  Ardyn slams into him, and Ravus gasps, tilting his head to encourage Ardyn to bite.  It's getting towards the end of fall, and nobody has made the slightest comment about the fact that Ravus's wardrobe includes far more turtlenecks and scarves than it used to.  The angle from Ardyn's new position is perfect, and Ravus is on edge again in a matter of moments.

"Ardyn," Ravus gasps, pushing back against him, "<i>more</i>."

Ardyn's stubble scrapes across his shoulder as he fucks him harder and deeper, and Ravus is so close, so very close.  "Are you going to come untouched?" Ardyn asks, his voice deeper and throatier than ever.

"I-- just need--"  He can't quite put a sentence together to tell Ardyn that yes, he thinks he is, but he just needs <i>more</i>.  Instead, he bares his neck and presses it up to Ardyn's mouth, and Ardyn sinks his teeth in again.  The sharp prick of pain is what does it, what makes his pleasure coalesce, and Ravus shouts as he comes, his cock pulsing and jerking while everything goes warm and fuzzy.

Ardyn growls against him, his teeth tightening, and Ravus knows he's coming too.  He slumps down onto the rug when Ardyn releases him, breathing hard and thoroughly, completely satisfied.  His neck is still throbbing, and Ravus reaches up to touch it and is surprised to find his hand comes away wet with a few drops of blood.  He looks up at Ardyn, who is regarding him with what appears to be dismay.

"It doesn't feel that bad," Ravus says.  "It'll probably heal up in a day or two."

"Of course," Ardyn replies, though his voice sounds strange.  "I'll get the first aid kit."

[weepylucifer]

"I think I'm in trouble" Dirk+Hugo

“This is the third time already!” Farah said, clambering down the fire escape. “And I’m not even counting the Ridgely.”

“The Ridgely?” Todd asked, craning his head to follow her descent from the roof with his eyes.

“I’m not counting that because our mystery shooter saved me back then, not Dirk, but I’m positive it’s the same guy.” Farah brushed some roof dust off her pants. “Military-issue bullet, absolutely… stellar marksmanship, and absolutely no sign of them apart from that. It’s like this person pops into existence, snipes someone and disappears again.”

Dirk shrugged. Stranger things had happened in his life. “They seem to be on our side, so… we’re still on a case here, so I’d worry about that, primarily.”

“I just hate this,” Farah said, “this having a loose end like that.”

“Maybe it’s some sort of… holistic American sniper,” Todd speculated, “who just really likes Dirk.”

Dirk chuckled a little. “Let’s not stand around and be absurd,” he said. “Come on. We still have an interdimensional couch to find.”

They left the alley and the game was again afoot, or maybe even several feet.

The detective agency had really picked up lately. When Dirk had, in the past, spent a lot of time waiting for cases to come to him, nowadays he seemed to be rushing through them. Life was eventful, frequently dangerous, permanently bizarre, and solving mysteries took up most of his mental capacity. He didn’t have much time to stop and wonder about his rifle-wielding guardian angel.

Whenever Dirk had found himself in a dangerous situation of late, particularly the type that involved being threatened by individuals with firearms, something… strange had happened. Anyone threatening him had been faced with a red dot appearing on their anatomies, and seconds later had been very neatly, very quickly, very painlessly dispatched. Dirk knew it worried Farah that she hadn’t been able to find the sniper yet. She scoured the area after every such occurrence, but it seemed that after doing the deed, the sniper vanished into thin air.

Dirk put it out of his mind until a week later.

He was standing in an abandoned warehouse, he had somehow lost Todd and Farah, and three very menacing gentlemen stepped out of the shadows and were pointing guns at him.

“Tell us where Eddie is,” one of the men said.

“Tell me who Eddie is,” Dirk replied, nervously eyeing everyone’s weapons. He hoped Farah would get here soon. Maybe if he talked loudly, she would hear him. “And then I might be able to help you with that.”

“Will you stop shitting me?” the gunman, evidently the leader of his little band, continued. “You’ve been asking everywhere about Eddie’s couch and I don’t know who you are, but you’re in this up to here.” The stranger gestured with his free hand to establish just how far in Dirk apparently was. “So you have got to know where that bastard went!”

“Eddie owns the couch?” Come on, Farah…

“This guy knows nothing, boss,” another gunman said to the leader. “Let’s just cold-cock him and try somewhere else.”

“He has been a nuisance.”

Dirk was starting to sweat. He was completely surrounded. In a stroke of desparation, he looked up at the ceiling. “Mystery sniper, if you can hear me…?” he asked. “I think I’m in trouble, here, and I could use a hand…?”

“The fuck’s he talking about?” asked one of the gunmen.

It made for very stupid last words.

With a bright flash of light, a portal opened in the middle of the room. A man stepped out of it, took a gun out of a holster, and shot one of the men who’d menaced Dirk. The others fired their guns in the newcomer’s direction, or at least attempted to. They both jammed at the exact same time.

Dirk had seen this before, with Bart. Todd was right, he thought. This is a holistic sniper.

There were two more gunshots, and now Dirk and the mystery man were the only living people in the room. Now that Dirk got an opportunity to finally look at this guy directly, he was surprised to see that it was…

“Mr. Friedkin?” he asked, gaping in total astonishment, “It’s you… you’re alive?!”

Friedkin shrugged, put away his gun and sketched a half-salute. “Yeah, sorta?” he said. “But also sorta not? But like, I have to go now so like… bye.”

With that he turned back towards the portal.

“Wait!” Dirk said. Friedkin actually stopped and turned around again.

“Yeah, what?”

“Was it always you… every time someone would shoot people who were threatening to kill me, was that you?”

Friedkin fiddled with his gun, then looked back up at Dirk. “I mean, yeah. I kind of like… keep an eye on you now. From like, in there.” He pointed at the portal.

“Why?”

Friedkin smiled a little sheepishly. It was not a bad look on him. “It’s like, my new job? Like with the universe. I gotta sort of… look after everyone a bit. All the, like, holistic people. You too. Like… especially you.”

Dirk was just now noticing that Friedkin’s eyes were now completely red. What’s up with that? he wondered.

“What do you mean by ‘especially’ me?” he asked. “I can’t be the holistic that gets into the most danger, out of all of them.”

Friedkin scratched his head. “Yeah, no, but like…” He came a little closer. If he had wanted to reach out and grab Dirk, he could have. “You’re like… special?”

“In what way?”

“You’re like… I put you through so much shit. Like… holy fuck. I mean. Just wow. And Colonel Riggins before that too. But like, you’re still nice and shit? That’s weird, I think, and like… you’re out here and you don’t like, even have a gun, so someone’s… someone’s gotta. Um. Make sure you don’t get shot. Sorry if this is like… stupid.”

Dirk was still stunned. Was that protectiveness he was hearing? “Well, thank you. For just now, and then a week ago…”

Friedkin waved it off sharply. “Nah,” he said. “Just making up for before, I guess.”

Go figure, Dirk thought, and watched as Friedkin got back to the portal. Somehow he was reluctant to let him leave. There was a new kind of mystery here, one that promised a deeper understanding into the nature of the universe, and besides…

He heard himself asking, “Would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”

Friedkin turned to face him a second time. “You wanna like… have coffee? With me? Like, after everything?”

“Why not?” Dirk asked. “I can’t make any promises until after we’ve wrapped this case up, but afterwards I should be free. Do you… have a phone number you could give me?”

“Uh, yeah sure, I think…” Friedkin started patting down his pockets, evidently flustered.

Dirk gave him a smile. “It’s a date, then.”

[washoutking]

Not-So Fashionably Late

( read on AO3 here )

Rating: Teen and Up (for swearing)

Ships: Grimmons, Sargrey, a bit of Tuckington and some backround ones if you squint really hard

Summary: The war is over. Everybody is living their peaceful lives back on Earth. And Sarge just invited everyone to his wedding!Simmons finds out Grif is taking someone else to the wedding, he is stuck on a 3-hour car ride with his suitemates, and they already missed the entire ceremony. His day couldn't get any worse, could it?

Written for @powerfulpomegranate for @redvsbluesecretsanta ~ The prompt was shippy or platonic domestic things, Sarge being secretly fond of his team, getting drunk and spilling about friendship, some repressed protags, and good old wholesome content.  

“Son of a bitch,” Simmons’s voice groans in frustration through the speakers of Dexter Grif’s laptop.

“Did a twelve-year-old snipe you from across the map again?” Grif mutters in the direction of his computer screen, eating an oreo in two bites. He lays on his battered couch in front of a fan that barely cools the 90-degree room.

If there’s anything Grif misses about Blood Gulch was the dry heat. It was hot, but at least he did not have to deal with the suffocating humidity here in Hawaii. Though if he has to be honest, at least he was as far away from Sarge as he could be. Which also means he’s away from Donut, Lopez, and Simmons, some of which he is not as happy to be away from, but he would never say so out loud.

Grif and Simmons make do with biweekly skype call to make up for the distance. Grif uses the excuse that he needs someone to talk to that is not Sister and that Simmons would surely go mad if left alone with Donut unsupervised for too long. It was the system they have been using for almost a year, and Grif was quite happy with it.

“First of all, I have no knowledge about whether a player is twelve or not,” Simmons’s voice replied through the call, cracking already at the first word. “Second of all, they didn’t snipe me, they sneaked up and stabbed me in the back.”

Grif bursts out laughing, “you got shanked by a twelve-year-old!”

“I didn’t-” There was a sigh and the sound of a remote hitting a table as it is dropped. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Why? Can’t take another twelve-year-old outranking you in the kill chart?” Grif makes it a point that his smug grin is wide enough to be heard through the audio.

“I’ll have you know I still have second place in that kill chart. That’s the best spot there is.”

Grif chuckles, “You only say that because you get shanked by too many twelve-year-olds to make it to first.”

The audio cuts for a second and comes back with Donut’s distant voice asking Simmon’s something while standing just slightly too far away from the mic.

“He’s not- Donut stop-... Okay, I’ll ask him! Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Wow,” Grif raised an eyebrow at the ceiling, amused. “You sound like the real twelve-year-old right there, Simmons. No wonder they’re trying to kill you, impostor.”

“I do NOT sound like a twelve-year-old,” Simmon’s voice cracks, contradicting his words.

“Sure, Simmons, whatever you say.”

There is a small pause between them, filled only by the distant waiting music from whatever Simmons was playing and the whirring of Grif’s fan across from him.

“Hey, Grif,” Simmons speaks after a few seconds, his voice interrupted by static as the internet dies down “Do-..... -one?

“Can’t hear you, Simmons,” Grif complains at the laptop, turning himself around to check on it.

“D-.... want-....?”

Grif huffs to himself, sitting up and checking the internet connection. “I’m losing you, buddy.”

“H- Hello?” Simmons finally comes through clear as before.

“There we go,” Grif smiles, sitting back again. “What were you saying before?”

“I-I was asking you who you were bringing as your plus one,” Simmons stutters through the audio. “For Sarge’s wedding, remember? Did you get the invite?”

Grif made a noise of realization at that. “Yeah, I remember… Made a note saying he did not care if I showed up but he offered to buy my plane tickets.”

“WHAT!?” Simmon’s voice broke again for the third time in that hour. “He didn’t offer any such thing to me.”

“That’s because you can drive there,” Grif states. “I cannot. And to answer your question I am bringing a plus one.”

“Really? Who are you br-”

Simmons suddenly stops talking, and it takes Grif a few seconds to figure out the call dropped.

The country road seems to stretch for eternity through Simmons’ windshield, rolling out into the blue sky with trees lining on either side. He’s been stuck in his small car with Donut and Doc for close to four hours now, and it was not getting any better.

“I spy…” Donut begins for his 30th turn that day, looking out from the passenger’s seat window.  “Something long and wet.”

“Uh… is it the creek?” Doc guesses from the back seat.

Donut turns around, smiling back at his suitemate. “How’d you guess?"

“Can you guys stop?” Simmons interrupts the two, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to concentrate on driving.”

“Is that why you shut off the music as soon as I turned on the radio?” Donut kicks one of his legs on the dashboard. “Chill out, Simmons. What do you need to concentrate on? It’s not like the road is that complicated.”

Simmons frees one of his hands from the wheel, using it to motion past the windshield to the rows upon rows of trees. “We are in the middle of nowhere! What if there’s a wild animal- or a deer that runs through!”

“I think a deer is a wild animal,” Doc points out.

Simmons waves him off, “Shut up.”

Donut sits up on his seat, eyes wide. “OoOOoh~ you’re worried about something, aren't you?”

“No, I’m not!” Simmons’ voice cracks.

“Uh… Guys…” Doc speaks up to get the attention of his suitemates.

“What is it!?” Simmons snaps.

“I think we missed our exit…”

Simmons shakes his head. “There hasn’t been an exit in ten miles. What do you mean we missed our exit?”

“That was it… ten miles ago…” Doc pointed out. His voice suddenly dropped an octave, “You fool. I wanted to see how long it would take you. Now you are truly stranded and nobody will find your body.”

“We’re going to miss the ceremony!” Simmons panics, turning the car around so fast that Doc was thrown into the door.

“We’ll make it to the reception at least,” Donut shrugged, holding onto his seat for dear life.

Simmons manages to get to the location of the wedding with the car in one piece and no casualties, but it just so happened to be about an hour late. By the time they arrive, the ceremony is officially over, and the guests had moved a ways farther into the park to enjoy the wedding reception.

The trio of not-so-fashionably-late men run through the empty chairs of the ceremony, following the sound of music and conversation.

Donut runs ahead of the group with Doc at his heels, as if it was a race to see who could get to Sarge first. “Don’t be slowing down now, Simmons!” He calls out over his shoulder, “We’ve only been at it for a minute. Don’t tell me you’re already hot and sweaty?”

“Donut, shut UP!” Simmons yells at his friend, adjusting his maroon tie as they run. “Sarge is gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill me! We missed his wedding ceremony, for fuck’s sake!”

“Well, then we better get to him quick, for the sake of fuck!”

“I do not think that’s how the expression goes…” Doc points out.

Donut does not have much time to respond. The three men stumble upon the reception area, crashing into each other and a few of the other guests. It starts a domino effect of tumbles and grunts of pain and surprise, and ends in a table toppling over with half a dozen expensive wine glasses.

Simmons shakes his head, pushing himself up with his elbows. He winces at the grass stains that already formed on his jacket, and the sting of a bruise forming on his jaw from the fall. His eyes catch a pair of brown armored boots approaching, possibly belonging to the only guest with any kind of armor on.

<<Hacia tiempo que llegaran, pendejos,>> A metallic voice speaks from the direction of the boots.

Simmons sits himself up and cranes his neck to stare into Lopez’s visor. “Nice to see you too, Lopez,” He wheezes, catching his breath.

By the time he gets to his feet, Donut is already throwing himself at the robot to greet him, earning himself only endless incomprehensible Spanish from the robot. Donut takes them as “I missed you”’s, but Simmons is not so sure if that was the true meaning of those words. It is Lopez they are dealing with, though, so Simmons decides to drop it in favor of looking for his former leader in order to apologize for their tardiness.

He spots Sarge across the reception party, sitting beside his new wife, clad in white, and another man who he could barely recognize from the distance. Clouds dance overhead, cooling down the park and Simmons’ worked up gears from all the running they had to do just to get there.

Simmons weaves around the tables hurriedly, tripping over the chair legs on his way to Sarge’s table. He bends over one of the chairs, catching his breath once he finally reaches it. With his head still down, touching the thin plastic tablecloth, he speaks. “Sir, I am so sorry we missed the ceremony,” He brings up his head for a second just to look Dr. Grey in the eyes. “Congratulations on the wedding though. I’m sure it was beautiful.” He drops his head again. “Please don’t be mad. It was all because-”

“You boys were out fighting the blues in my name!” Sarge interrupts him. Simmons lifts his head again, looking up at his former leader, wine glass in hand. “How can I be mad about that? You found out they were infiltrating civilian ranks! Just as I feared- Leave it to Simmons to lead an attack. That’s a damn good wedding present if I ever heard of one.”

Simmons facepalms, “I knew I forgot something back at the apartment…”

Gray could not help but chuckle in amusement. “Don’t mind him, he’s just had a tad too much to drink. You know how it is, with so much alcohol being passed around. Say, is that purple friend of yours around?”

Simmons furrows his eyebrows at Grey’s sudden change in conversation and her overly enthusiastic expression when mentioning Doc, but the third person on the table beats him to a speaking turn, slamming his glass on the table.

“What do you mean blues infiltrating civilian ranks?” Tucker, as equally intoxicated as Sarge, steers back the conversation. “Dude, the war is over . Anyways, your guys could never win an attack against any blues.”

“That’s what you think, you filthy blue,” Sarge replies, lifting his free arm, which Grey had hers hooked on, to point at the former blue soldier. “But I know my boys better than anyone. They may be a nuisance but they are my boys.”

Simmons blinks slowly, processing the fact that Sarge was actually saying positive about them. “Sarge…”

“Nah, man. Blue team was far superior,” Tucker tries to argue. “Caboose, the damn idiot he is, is already better than your whole group combined.”

“Did Tucker say something nice about me?” A familiar voice calls out from the reception hall.

Tucker turns to the direction of the voice. “Shut up, Caboose! I’m trying to convince Sarge that red team sucks!”

“The sharing of intimate thoughts while inebriated is quite fun to watch, isn't it?” Grey asks Simmons, who straightens himself as the argument unfolds.

“Alright, that’s enough,” A blonde man walks up from behind Tucker, taking the glass of whatever he was drinking from his grasp. He holds it far away enough that no matter how Tucker stretches, he cannot reach the glass. “We have to go pick up Junior from your mother’s house, remember?”

“But babe-”

“If we don’t leave now, you’re catching a ride back with Caboose,” Washington states as stern as he could, but a smile plays at his lips nonetheless.

Tucker sighs, “Fine.” He lifts his arm and Washington grabs hold of it to pull him to his feet.

“Another victory for the reds!” Sarge cheers, leaning back in his chair.

“Why’d you have to marry him?” Tucker grumbles at Dr. Gray, who just laughs in reply.

Simmons takes it as his cue to leave as well. It was a party after all, and parties usually involved socialization. Since he is finally here, and Sarge did not kill him for being late, Simmons decides to wander through the crowd and look for familiar faces.

He finally finds the man he was not aware that he was looking for, hiding away from the crowd and next to the buffet table with a plate piled past his head with different types of desserts. Simmons approaches him without thinking about it, only catching his attention when he finally speaks.

“I’m surprised you haven’t eaten half of the buffet table by now.”

Grif turns his head to look at Simmons, swallowing whatever he was working on. His hair is neatly pulled back for once, and the suit is a little disorienting to Simmons at first. “I’m surprised you even showed up,” Grif joked back. “Thought the fact that Sarge got married without asking you to be his right-hand man killed your from the shock.”

Simmons scoffs, “As if. I called that Lopez would be picked for right-hand man since the engagement. Remember?”

“Like you remembered to get here on time,” Grif teases, elbowing Simmons on the side.

Simmons drops his head in his hands, laughing out of nervousness. “Don’t remind me. Donut and Doc were playing I spy for three hours. Three hours, Grif. ” He sighed. “My suit is covered in grass stains, my car smells like whatever awful dish Doc was eating on the way here, and I missed the whole wedding ceremony. Today couldn’t get any worse.”

Thunder rumbles overhead. A couple of droplets hit Simmons on the head.

“You were saying?” Grif raises an eyebrow in amusement.

As soon as Grif spoke, the rain all hit at once. Guests scramble to find cover under their coats and under tables to protect themselves and their expensive garments from the rain. At this point, Simmons just allows himself to be drenched. He lifts his head once again, watching the chaos in utter silence.

Simmons turns to Grif, “Who’d you bring?”

“My sister,” the other man states, motioning over to a crowd of guests. In the midst of the chaos, Kaikaina was laughing at Doc, whose purple suit was dark with mud stains. “She wasn’t mentioned on the invite, but she wanted to come, so I said I’d bring her as a plus one.” He turns his face toward Simmons, “Why? Who else would I bring?”

“Sister…” Simmons repeats. “Of course it was Sister!” He facepalms.

“You know…” Grif shrugs. “She was talking to Tucker today about possibly trying out for a job at his workplace. Wanted to see what living in a mainland city was like.”

“So?”

“I have to tickets back to Hawaii, and she won’t be using hers,” Grif explains. “Could give you an excuse away from this awful weather.”

Simmons looks over at Grif for a second before hitting his side with his hipbone. “Next time, you could ask me to come visit like a normal human, you asshat.”

“Is that a yes?” Grifs asks expectantly.

Simmons could not help but smile. “Of course it’s a yes. Now move your fat ass  to the tents or we’re gonna catch a cold.”