#YO. BELATEDLY. GUESS I GO HERE NOW

[dontfrickindoxme]

squad

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

Okay so I'm TECHNICALLY 30 minutes late but ya'll I think this is the first WIP Sunday I've done in three weeks so we're not going to dither over the nitty gritty details.

Jaster is meeting with Plo and Tyvokka regarding his frustrations in finding a trade negotiator and broker who is willing to stand up to the Trade Federation goons. Afterwards, their talk shifts to other topics and he royally puts his foot in his mouth because he has -100 speech sometimes. Story spoiler characters beneath the cut, you have been warned. I'm also SO FUCKING CLOSE to ending this chapter but I have a blinding migraine and I just...cannot brain any further. I guess this way ya'll don't have to deal with any cliffhangers cause this was gonna end on one. As always, this is super rough and not edited yadda yadda

“Aside from stress regarding trying to iron out a fair trade agreement for Mandalore, how are things going otherwise? Jango looked in fine health when I saw him.”

“He’s pretty much fully recovered, he’s been pestering me to let him join the patrols.”

That earned him a sharp look from Arla because apparently her brother hadn’t felt the need to inform her of that. And judging by the way her eyes narrowed angrily, she wasn’t pleased with this development.

“Have you…had any further issues with Death Watch?” Plo Koon asked carefully.

“They seem to have gone to ground. I’m not sure if they are reinforcing and preparing for an all out assault or what.” Jaster very pointedly didn’t glance in Arla’s direction. “Coruscant is a nightmare to try and track anyone.”

“Honestly, I’d much prefer to conclude our business here and fight with them just about anywhere else in the galaxy. And I’m sure the CSF feel the same way, the sooner we get off of their planet with the minimal amount of damage to the city or its citizens, the better.” Jaster admitted, rubbing at his face tiredly.

Tyvokka growled something and the crisp Coruscanti accent of the translation program echoed his sentiments. “We would prefer to avoid outright warfare in the streets as well.”

“I understand, Master Tyvokka, which is what we are trying to accomplish because I can assure you, I don’t want any collateral damage or blood on my hands either. We aren’t Death Watch where civilian lives are considered an acceptable cost for victory’s sake.”

Belatedly, he realized how thoughtless a thing to say in front of Arla and he slanted a guilty look the blonde’s way. “Sorry, habit.”

Her chin jerked up in a belligerent angle.

“Don’t apologize; you’re right. The slaughter of my family proves that. Death Watch doesn’t care about innocent bystanders or collateral damage. I should know; I was one of them. What do you think my kill count is?” She spat the last part before turning coldly on her heel and stalking out of the room.

“Jaster…”

“I know, ner kar’ta.” He’d already jumped to his feet when Plo called his name. “Excuse me, I’m sorry.”

“Of course, go focus on Arla.”

He needed no further convincing and jogged out of the room in search of Arla. He knew he was on the right track when he ran into a wounded-looking Jango.

“What the kriff did you say to her?” His son hissed at him.

“I screwed up, ad’ika. Where is she?”

“She was headed up to the roof. You might want to wear a jackpack in case she decides to push you off!” Jango called after him as he pushed by.

“You missed your calling as a comedian, Jango.” Jaster shot back over his shoulder as he reached the turbolift. Unlike Arla, it was coded to give him full access to the condo’s lift system. Jango had joked about her throwing him off of the roof but a more realistic scenario and one she thankfully had not tried so far was for her to overpower one of them, maybe knock them unconscious--or worse--and use their biometrics to try and escape.

There had been a reason all of them had been armed around her for the first few weeks though she hadn’t really made any earnest attempts to escape.

Now, he had no idea what emotional state he’d find the young woman in now that he’d so thoughtlessly triggered her trauma responses. Belatedly, he realized there was a smattering of blood in the corner of the lift which looked worryingly fresh.

Jaster was concerned Arla might have hurt herself somehow and the moment the lift door opened, he ran out of them, desperately searching around for the blonde.

“Arla!” He spotted her near the rooftop’s edge on the lounge she seemed to favor. She sat with her knees curled up to her chest and her face buried in her arms.

“Go. Away!” She snarled at him and Jaster could hear the waver in her voice.

Guilt flooded him as he cautiously approached.

“I’m sorry. I am a complete and utter ass.”

“I don’t care about your stupid apologies. Leave me alone!” Arla shouted at him.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you when I said that, Arla. None of us blame you for what you did when you were in Death Watch. You were kidnapped, tortured, and brainwashed into doing what they want. They had to pump you full of drugs to keep you compliant. You are not responsible for what you did with them.”

“Maybe that’s good enough for you, but it’s not good enough for me.” When she raised her head to glare at him, Jaster could see the tears running down her cheeks and his heart ached for the girl.

“We’ve all done things we regret. You have the choice to drag that around like chains holding you to your past, or you can choose to acknowledge what you did but also that you were manipulated and abused until it was easier to comply than fight Death Watch.”

The dark-haired man carefully approached and finally knelt in front of Arla on the deck so they were more or less at eye level. “We Mandalorians…we understand that sometimes your past contains so many awful and painful memories that you long for a fresh start. If you want, when we get back to Mandalore, we can arrange for you to perform a cin vhetin.”

“That only works with non-Mandalorians.” The blonde argued somewhat weakly and this close, Jaster could see the shivers running through her frame.

“I”m the Mand’alor. I make the rules and deem an exception will be made here. Let the old you die so that you can live a healed life with a happier and more honorable future. Because you might try and convince me you’re a monster, Arla Fett, but I know better. I’ve known true monsters, and you are not one of them.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and touched her shoulder gently.

She looked at him with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes and Jaster suddenly found himself nearly back onto his ass when she slid off of the lounge and threw herself at him with a sob. Shocked but unwilling to ignore that silent plea for comfort, he wrapped his arms around the crying woman and did his best to soothe her as she cried into his shoulder.

He had some experience of this from when Jango had been much younger and less likely to squirm in the face of any affection, so he drew upon those old tricks and smoothed his hand up and down Arla’s back soothingly and just let her cry herself out.

If she was anything like her brother, she wouldn’t spill her guts or tell him what was going on inside her brain, and trying to pry it out from her would probably send her skittering away like a skittish tooka.

[yanderecrazysie]

Here we go! The deadline wasn’t as scary as I thought! Thank you so much for including me in this collab! It was a blast!

Pairings: Merman! Kageyama x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, human zoo, swearing

Summary: Even if you believed in mermaids, you would believe those movies that say these poor creatures would be put in an aquarium. You couldn’t have expected it to be the other way around.

And you really couldn’t have expected the employee tasked with caring for you to fall deeply in love with you.

Collab: Aquatic August with @terushimooo and several others

captivity

/noun/

the condition of being imprisoned or confined.

You loved to swim, so a beach trip for your 19th birthday party was no surprise to anyone.

You briefly wondered if it was a bad idea to swim so far from shore, to go that close to the coral reef that beckoned you towards it with its pretty colors and the shimmering scales of fish flitting by.

When the fingers wrapped around your ankle and sharply tugged you under, you no longer had to wonder if it was a lapse of judgement. You now knew it was.

Darkness closed in on you much too soon to be from drowning. You felt the water disappear, replaced with air, and yet, you couldn’t see. The water was completely gone, but your world was so dark.

You didn’t realize until much later that you had been put in an air-filled bag, of sorts. One meant to capture land animals that come too far into a domain not meant for them.

“Look, Mom, it’s a human!”

“Wow, I’ve never seen one up close before!”

“How did they manage to capture one of those?”

“She’s so pretty!”

“Cool!”

You cowered, hyperventilating in the corner of your cage. Helplessly watching the flash of seashell-shaped phones snapping pictures of your swimsuit-clad form. As beautiful and mystical as these mermaids that gawked at you were, with their shimmering tails in all sorts of colors, all you could think about was your hopeless situation.

The cage you were in must have been enchanted by some sort of mermaid-magic or whatever sorcery these creatures possessed. Bars far enough apart to squeeze your arm through, but close enough together that you couldn’t hope to fit any other part of you through. Oxygen filled the cage like a square bubble, unpoppable and only contained in your cage.

Sticking your arm through the bars soaked you to the bone and left you shivering on the cold floor of your cage, dissuading you from trying to get out that way.

Even if you could escape, you were probably deep under the sea. If you had to guess, the ocean’s floor. You’d never make it to the surface in time. Your lifeless body would probably sink back down to the creatures that brought you there in the first place.

And that was assuming you could even escape.

The crowds thinned and eventually disappeared completely as the water darkened. You could only assume that this was closing time for whatever type of twisted zoo you were in. A part of you wondered if this was ironically their form of an aquarium.

With the mass of mermaids no longer obstructing your view, you could see your partners-in-captivity. Most were normal sea animals, which you couldn’t help but compare yourself to, such as dolphins, sharks, and a variety of fish. However, there were a couple dogs that shared your prison. An old golden retriever and a large mixed breed, both locked in separate cages, looking depressed, yet used to their new home.

If I ever get out of here, tears filled your eyes, I will be the biggest animal rights activist ever. I will free every animal from every zoo, aquarium, wherever.

This was easily the worst birthday you’d ever had.

Your moping was brought to an end with the sound of a door opening. You belatedly realized that everything here sounded and worked just like above the water in many ways.

The door that opened was no more than a slab of wood lodged into a sand archway, yet it still pushed out the water in a way that resembled a creaking door from the surface.

You couldn’t help but blush when your eyes landed on the pale expanse of a man’s muscular chest. You quickly looked away, trying to will away the rising heat from your cheeks. Once you had recovered, you studied the newcomer with curious eyes.

He was a tall merman, a muscular, lean form with a long, dark blue tail that reflected the light in short bursts. His fins were noticeably sharklike and his cold eyes reminded you of the deadly creature too.

The man swam over to the dogs and began barking excitedly. The dark-haired man tossed bits of fishy-smelling flesh to the canines, a wane smile playing across his lips as he did so.

When he turned to you, you couldn’t help but be blown away by his looks. He was even more handsome than you had thought: dark water-swept hair, chiseled yet pretty features, deep eyes, and muscle laid on a graceful figure under soft pale skin.

Maybe it was the unearthly glow of the light beaming through the darkened water or maybe it was the fact that a mythical creature you had dreamed about as a child now stood- or swam- in front of you.

The male approached you, holding some of the same chum he’d fed the dogs. Despite not having used your voice in hours, it was still clear as ever when you spoke to him.

“I want to go home.”

He stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise at your “outburst”. He tilted his head, looking thoroughly confused. “You can talk?”

“Of course I can!” You spluttered, concerned by how little these creatures knew about humans. This would either be very good or very bad for an escape attempt or your survival in general…

“Oh.” The merman didn’t seem to be a man of many words. You bit your lip in frustration.

“I’m (Y/n), what’s your name?”

“Kageyama.”

His name wasn’t the first thing you’d learn about him, but it wasn’t the most important.

The most important was that he didn’t seem to be the brightest bulb. The sharpest knife in the drawer.

And you were pretty sure you could use that to escape.

As your time in this “zoo” went on, so did your time with Kageyama. Despite not being very talkative, the merman often encouraged you to tell him stories of your time on land. His eyes shone with curiosity and wonder when you talked about the simplest things.

He was an employee: one that specialized in the care of land creatures. They hadn’t had a human in years, but, apparently, a nearby mermaid colony kept them supplied with information now that they had you.

You felt bad for the humans lived in that nearby zoo, but the fact that they had apparently been there for over 10 years terrified you.

When Kageyama next came to visit you, you tried to appeal to him again.

“I’m scared of what those visitors might do to me. I’ve seen the way some of them look at me. I can’t stay here, Kageyama…”

You felt like you’d tried everything. Claiming you were allergic to the dogs when you couldn’t actually get close enough for the allergens to bother you. Claiming your cage was too small. Claiming that humans could breathe fire.

Nothing worked.

Your friendship with Kageyama grew at least. You desperately hoped that you’d get close enough to convince him to release you, but you were losing hope the closer you got. He’d become possessive and even more sure that you should stay safe in captivity.

“They were looking at you?” That seemed to catch Kageyama’s attention. You bit back a sarcastic response. Of course they watch me, I’m put on display in a zoo.

“Yes. It scares me…” You used a trick you’d learned in an acting class- swallowing yawns to make your eyes water and tears spill down your cheeks. “I’m afraid of what they might do to me. I’m not safe, Kageyama…”

His steely eyes darkened and he studied you for a moment, his expression impossible to read.

“I’ll get you out of here, (Y/n), I promise.”

You could barely contain your excitement when the zoo closed the next night. You were going home! Finally!

Kageyama looked more serious than usual, if that was even possible, when he approached your cage. He lifted his hands and the same darkness that brought you here enveloped you.

This time, you welcomed it, an ecstatic warmth filling you as you pictured the relieved faces of your family and friends when you ran into your house. You wondered what they thought happened to you. Did they think you drowned? Did they think someone kidnapped you or that you got lost at sea? How much did they all miss you?

When you were finally able to see again, you realized that you’d never be lucky enough to find out.

A house made of sand. A larger cage, yet a cage all the same. A bed next to yours occupied by a familiar man.

When you demanded an answer, cried real tears, begged him to let you go for real, he simply gave you a small smile and explained his reasoning. Words that sent a chill down your spine.

“Now I’m the only man who can look at you.”

[elysiadjarin]

Sword and Shield

Part 1: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/652827986465275904/sword-and-shield

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on.

Warnings: Only some mentions of war, otherwise have at it!

2: Familiarity

You took in a deep breath, then slipped off your bag and set it down on the ground. Turning, you looked pleadingly to Rex, who decided to help you out behind his hidden smirk.

He held out his hand to you. “Permission to Transfer?” he asked the initial question to begin the Transference.

You took his hand readily. “Transfer Granted,” you said quietly, feeling that familiar tightness in your gut as the process began.

“Blaster,” Rex’s voice became a sharp command.

Almost without thinking, used to the process, you allowed the sensation of your cells shifting to complete their movement. With an odd sort of sucking sensation, you closed your eyes and Transferred.

Startled noises made you open your eyes to note your point of view from right above the blaster now held in Rex’s hand. The Transference had been completed successfully. Rex spun the blaster, using the Bond you’d forged between you and him to request a switch of weapons. You morphed the weapon in his hands into an IWS, hefting it in his hands. Another request as he swung his arm behind him, feet shifting in practiced movements to reveal that you’d Shifted into a giant scythe. One more request, and Rex straightened to hold out a Vibro-shiv in his hand.

“Hence why she’s called Shiv,” Rex remarked somewhat dryly, flipping the shiv in his hands.

You let a silhouette of your head, shoulders, arms, and torso materialize over Rex’s shoulder. It was a method of easy communication with others and a way to reveal your presence a little more visibly than just through a mental Bond with a Handler.

Rex nodded at you. “Bond Dissolution,” he said, allowing you to begin the Dissolution of the Transference. He tossed the Shiv, allowing your body to replace the weapon before it even hit the floor.

You shook your head a little to reorient yourself. Reaching down, you picked your bag back up. “I’ve been working with Commander Rex and the 501st for a while, but it’s a bit difficult to work with a large force and manage being passed from one person to another. Being a living weapon requires not only an intimidate knowledge of the weapons themselves but also a close working relationship with a tight-knit group in order to cater to their own individual strengths and preferences,” you explained, reaching up to rub your eye briefly. Your vision always felt a bit... off, after a Transference.

“She’s been stretched thin trying to understand and learn the fighting patterns and preferences of the entire 501st, and limiting her usage to just a few isn’t exactly the best scenario for an entire squadron’s unity,” Rex said, picking up your thread. “I thought putting her in an already-established, smaller, special-forces group would perhaps be best for increasing her effectiveness and bringing her to her best. It’s a commitment, but I’d appreciate it if you gave it a try.”

“Whoa, that’s super cool!” The large one bellowed, giving you an exhilarated grin.

A little startled, you gave him a shy smile. “Th-thanks.”

The others seemed to glance at each other almost in a non-verbal conversation, but seemed to come to a pretty swift agreement. The tattooed one turned to Rex.

“Since you’re recommending it, Commander, I suppose we’ll give it a go. Our next mission has been assigned tomorrow morning, so if she decides to join, she’ll have to probably move into the ship tonight.” He glanced at you.

Rex nodded. “Thank you for giving it a try. What do you think, Shiv?” He turned to you.

You nodded. “Of course, Commander,” you murmured, stomach flipping a little. After so long, it was actually happening. You were going to be transferred to a special ops group.

Rex nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Go and pack your things, Shiv. I’ll get the transfer settled and let the General know.”

You nodded, then turned to the group. “Um, should I just come back here? It shouldn’t take me long to pack,” you asked timidly.

The leader nodded at you. “We’ll be right here. I’m Sergeant Hunter, if you need to ask for me.”

“Oh, right! Name’s Wrecker!” The burly guy said with a wave.

You had to smile, waving back.

“I’m Tech,” the one with glasses introduced, adjusting his goggles.

“Crosshair,” the white-haired one grunted, seemingly disinterested in the whole affair. Though, he did glance at you.

“Thank you. I’ll be back,” you promised, looking to Rex.

He dismissed you with a nod, and you headed back to your bunk.

Sinking down onto the bunk, you stared down at your trembling fingers. You hadn’t even realized how nervous you’d really been until it was all said and done. Shaking your head, you dropped your head into your hands and tried to work through the muck of feelings that stuck in your chest.

You were... scared. Excited. Apprehensive. Curious. Nervous. Glad. Sad.

“Yo Shiv- hey, what’s wrong?”

You started, looking up to see Fives and Kix approaching your bunk. You gave them a bit of a sad smile, looking down at your hands now clasped in your lap.

“It’s... it’s finally happened,” you whispered, trying to wrap your own mind around it.

“Happened? Wha-“ Kix paused, eyes widening. “Wait, are you getting transferred?”

You nodded shakily. “Y-yeah.”

Fives slung his arm around your shoulders. “Well. Congrats, Shivvie!” he tried to cheer, but it came out a bit sadly.

You smiled up at both of them. “I’m gonna miss you guys, you know,” you said with a light laugh.

Kix sighed. “We’re gonna miss you too, Shiv. But I’m guessing that since this opportunity is one that you’re taking, so it must be good, right?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah... yeah, it’s... it’s a good one,” you admitted. “I’m- I’m joining Clone Force 99.”

“Whoa,” Fives blurted. “You’re joining the Bad Batch? That’s great for you, Shiv! I heard they’re weird but pretty good at what they do,” he said, clearly impressed. “I mean, Commander Rex helped create that force.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I...” Still, you had to let your shoulders slump a little. “I... I hope it goes well.”

“You’re gonna knock em dead, Shiv,” Kix encouraged, patting your shoulder. “We’re gonna miss you, but you have our commlinks. Come and get drinks with us at the 79s whenever you stop by for a break or something.”

You nodded, smiling up at both of them. You’d miss their company, no matter what happened. Kix and Fives had really been your pillars of support throughout your time with the 501st, and you’d really supported each other through... well, the Battle of Lola Sayu.

With a sigh, you looked around. “I have to pack. I have to get to the ship by tonight.”

“We’ll help you out,” Fives offered immediately, standing.

You shook your head at him. “Thanks, but... you mind just telling the others I’d like to say bye? If they’re around? I kinda... I need some headspace,” you admitted.

Kix nodded, grabbing Fives’ arm to keep him from protesting. “Got it, Shiv. We’ll send ‘em over. Good luck!”

You waved, biting back tears as you tried to smile.

New beginnings, after all, usually meant leaving something behind.

~

Taking a breath, you headed into Hangar Bay Six again. You’d said goodbye to the rest of the 501st, promising to keep in touch when possible and wishing them the best of luck. They’d been sad to see you go, but they’d all been encouraging and hopeful.

After all, you reflected, they were the ones who knew the difficulties you all faced working together. They’d seen how thin you’d been spread trying to accommodate and learn to work intimately with all of them.

Walking up to the Havoc Marauder, you headed up the ramp with your bags. “Hello?” you called uncertainly at the mouth of the ship, not wanting to just barge in.

Hunter rounded the corner, nodding to you. “Welcome aboard. Your quarters are just down here,” he said, heading down the corridor.

You followed him, glancing around at the ship in order to get familiar with the layout. It was a pretty standard ship by all accounts, so you figured you wouldn’t find it too hard to learn where things were. You followed as he ducked into a room, the door sliding open.

The room itself wasn’t too bad, a bit small but that was to be expected. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d asked you to share quarters, so it slightly surprised you that they gave you your own personal quarter. A small fresher was tucked into the corner, though it only had a sink and a toilet.

“The showers are down the hall, they’re shared.” Hunter jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

You just smiled, setting your bags down on the bunk. “Thank you. I honestly kinda expected having to share quarters. This is really nice,” you said honestly.

He blinked at you. “You shared bunks with the 501st?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything else. “Feel free to get comfortable. You can look around the ship and get used to it whenever you want. The galley is on the other side of the ship, and everyone’s quarters are on this side.”

You nodded, belatedly realizing that he didn’t even stop to see your reaction before ducking back through the door and walking off. With a glance around, you decided to unpack. This would be your home for a while, after all. Might as well make the best of it.

~

After looking around the ship and getting familiar with it, you found yourself wandering into what seemed to be a common, shared space. You’d taken your mug to the galley and made some caf, stowing away some of your own tea paraphernalia in an empty shelf out of the way.

Tech sat in the room, going through datapads in his own corner. He looked up, observing you through his goggles with a blink.

You gave him a hesitant smile. “Um, do you mind if I sit?”

He blinked, then nodded. “Oh, sure. Anyone can come in here, it’s a common room,” he said, motioning to the seats that were scattered around. “Oh, uh... Hunter said to give you the rundown, by the way.”

You crossed the room, sitting in a chair close to him. “Rundown?” you asked, setting your mug down.

He handed you a datapad. “This is the data I’ve gathered and compiled about Force 99. I thought it might be useful to you since you said you need to work closely with a group, and I’ve been meaning to create a profile for a while now anyway so it was a good excuse,” he seemed to be babbling a bit, reaching up to adjust his goggles and avoiding direct eye contact with you.

You glanced down at the display screen to see Hunter’s name at the top, a chunk of material following it.

Tech was still rambling on, fiddling with another datapad. “I mean, I know we’re also supposed to get to know you, but I guessed that letting you know about all of our desired mutations and details about our weapons preferences might be a good way to start, you know? Since you also said you’re a weapons expert, I mean. I added some footage of our missions as well for reference and all, since I tend to record most of them.”

You smiled, deciding to cut in and stop his nervous rambling. “Thank you so much, Tech. Oh, is it okay if I call you that?”

He blinked, looking at you briefly. “Oh, sure. I mean, it’s my name. Uh, what should I-?”

You laughed a little, tucking your feet up onto the chair. “You can either call me (Name) or Shiv, I like and answer to both.” You pulled out your own datapad. “Do you mind if I transfer this data to my own pad? That way I can make notes without stealing yours.”

He nodded. “Oh, sure, of course. The information was compiled for you, anyway.”

“Thank you, Tech,” you said again, touched that he’d gone that far. “I appreciate it, a lot. It’ll really help me try to integrate myself in the best way.” You gave him a smile.

He hesitantly nodded, taking back the datapad from you after you’d finished transferring the files.

You quickly lost yourself in the wealth of information, making notes and highlighting some key characteristics that you noted in the files. Tech had really done an immaculate job, considering that you’d been an unexpected arrival and addition to the group. As you continued learning more about the group, you began to understand why they were nicknamed the “Bad Batch” by the others. It barely irked you, though you knew that the premise of the whole name was rather... derogatory.

You’d already been treated much like a clone for most of your life, anyway. You’d been born a weapon, a tool, nothing but cannon fodder ever since this war had even started. Here you were, at twenty-something years old, and all you remembered was a life of surviving, living, fighting, and forcing yourself to be a tool.

The clones had welcomed you in, had given you a sense of camaraderie, understanding, and family. You’d found a sense of purpose despite your status as an outcast. And the more you read about the Bad Batch, the more you found yourself understanding why Rex might have specifically considered this particular group to assign you to.

You completely lost track of time, going over the information and committing it to memory, taking time to make meticulous notes about their weaponry. You only stopped once you’d gone through the written information, turning to Tech.

“Excuse me, Tech.”

Starting, he looked up at you owlishly as though he’d forgotten you even existed in the same room. “Oh- y-yes?”

“Is there a holodeck I can link to? So I can get a closer analysis of the footage?” you asked, motioning to the datapad.

“Oh, right!” He shuffled over to the other side of the room, grabbed a holoscreen, and handed it over. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” You gave him a fleeting smile, then hooked up the datapad to the holoscreen display. Putting the footage on complete mute, you began to scrutinize it frame by frame, expanding some scenes and rotating the screens to get a different vantage point. You did notice that sometimes it was harder to catch Crosshair’s movements since he was, after all, a sniper, but you did manage to isolate quite a few moments of his meticulous shots and get a bead on his location and vantage points.

You were so immersed in examining the footage, highlighting reels, and going through your well-versed motions that the feeling of someone tapping your shoulder well and truly took you off-guard. You instantly froze, eyes narrowing as your awareness instantly honed in on your surroundings. It only took half a second to recall where exactly you were, and you shook yourself with a sharp inhale.

You turned to the person who had tapped you. “Sorry-“

Hunter observed you with a piercing look. “Why did you freeze?” He demanded.

You blinked, mouth opening, scrambling for an answer. “Um- I lost track of my surroundings and had to regroup myself, Sergeant,” you found yourself answering almost mechanically, the tone of his voice forcing an answer from your conditioned mind.

“Why would you freeze? Why wouldn’t you immediately react in order to assess a threat?” Hunter asked ruthlessly, crossing his arms.

The question felt oddly familiar. It didn’t take much for you to find an answer. “As a weapon, sir, my first reactions are necessarily different from most other people,” you said quietly, heart pounding in your chest. It didn’t help that you now knew that his enhanced senses most likely heard it. “If I were to immediately react, I would end up thoughtlessly killing the person or object that had surprised me.” You swallowed, looking down at your feet. “I learned my mistakes the hard way, by completely destroying everything and everyone within five meters of me.”

A silence fell in the room, while you ruthlessly tried to push away the memories that loomed at the edge of your mind.

Hunter finally spoke. “Understood.” He cleared his throat. “I... apologize.”

You looked up, eyes widening. “N-no need to apologize, Sergeant. You should know, especially since I-I’m supposed to be working with you.”

He nodded, then glanced behind you at the frozen footage. “I see that Tech has given you the files he compiled.”

You started, then turned around and scooped up the datapad. “Yes sir, I’ve been going over the information and trying to compile all the necessary information I can before the- the mission tomorrow,” you explained hurriedly.

He nodded. “I appreciate the dedication. You’ve been here for four chrons. You might want to get some food.”

You stared down at the clock on the datapad, realizing that it really had been hours since you started. Reaching up, you dragged a hand through your hair a little ruefully.

“Thank you.” You gave Hunter a sheepish smile. “I probably should. I tend to... get lost in my work.”

He nodded, then wordlessly stepped back out of the room.

Tech glanced at you, still working on his own stuff.

You sighed and set down the datapad, turning to Tech. “I should go get myself something to eat. Can I bring you something, Tech?” you offered.

He looked up at you. “Oh- that’s- I mean, you don’t have to, I-“

You just quirked him a smile. “You’ve been here the whole time, too. I’ll go get us both something to eat.” Giving him a wave, you headed out to go find the galley and something to eat.

You poked around the available ingredients in the galley before deciding on a quick but filling dish, whipping up enough for everyone. Hesitating after you finished cleaning up, you decided to at least try. Leaving two portions on the counter, you grabbed scrap paper and scribbled Crosshair’s and Wrecker’s names on them. Leaving them for the other two to find, you grabbed the other three portions and headed back to the common room.

Setting down the bowls, you handed one to Tech. “Nothing fancy, but it should go down easy,” you laughed a little.

He took it, surprise flickering over his face. “Th-thanks.”

You nodded, then grabbed another portion. “I’ll be right back.” Leaving your own bowl on the table, you went to go find Hunter. You found him in the cockpit after ten minutes of searching, making him look up as you approached the doorway.

You gave him a hesitant smile, holding out the bowl. “Um, maybe you’ve already eaten but... I made some for everyone, if you’re... hungry,” you said, trailing off and starting to second-guess yourself. What if he didn’t like that kind of food, or thought you had some sort of ulterior motive? What if-

But after staring at your for half a minute, he got up and approached, almost gingerly taking the bowl from you. “Thanks,” he said.

You nodded and skittered away, barely waiting to see his response or hear anything else. Mortified, you paused in the hallway and clapped your hands to your cheeks, shaking yourself. It was fine. You didn’t have to be thatnervous, honestly. It wasn’t like you’d done something ridiculous, just offered him some food is all. It was normal. Completely normal. Right?

You decided to return to your spot and drown your embarrassment in your research again. After all, you did have good motivation. Tomorrow morning would be your first mission.

[neonghostcat]

NaNoWriMo: Word goal complete!

50426 / 50000 total words (Scroll down for the excerpt!)

That's 43,181 words of the Fantasy Farm Life Liushen fic, divided across 9 chapters. (Meaning an average of 4,798 words per chapter.)

I'm going to keep writing, of course. But I had to basically force myself the last few days. Only my desire to get that "updated every day of NaNoWriMo" badge on the NaNo website is going to get me to continue to write daily -- but I'm still hoping to finish the story arc by the end of the month.

I'm still shocked that I'm over 40k deep into the fic and only this far in my outline. I guess it's going to be one of those situations where I'll write what's in my outline and not the stuff that I just sort of handwaved over like, "idk, farming stuff here" between the plot stuff I actually did write down more detailed notes for. If readers are like, "Yo, I love all of this daily life on a fantasy farm stuff!" I can always sneak an extra chapter or scene in every so often to break up the plot.

I probably will only post occasional updates on my progress for now, just because I think it'd be more interesting to see it finished than hear me rambling about writing it!

Here is the last scene I've worked on. Keeping in mind I've trimmed some of the plot stuff since it'd be confusing not knowing what it's referring to and it's also unpolished.

Excerpt:

When they reached the homestead again, Liu Qingge left the bucket of fish outside while he went in to get the little stove that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in over a decade, if not longer.

“I’ll cook,” he said, bringing it out so that the cooking smells wouldn’t get trapped inside.

“It’s fine,” Shen Yuan said, moving over to take over setting up the stove. Liu Qingge was relieved he at least seemed to have the general idea of how to use it. “I’ve cooked before…”

Liu Qingge had a bad feeling about this, but said, “Then I’ll clean the fish while you get things ready.” At the very least, once the fish was gutted it was a little more difficult to do badly at cooking it.

Shen Yuan turned to give him a somewhat stunned look as if it had never occurred to him to clean the fish. His misgivings grew.

“Will you? Thanks!”

“…en.”

Out of sheer respect for the fish, Liu Qingge handed Shen Yuan the smallest one first to see how he handled it. And then watched with fascination as Shen Yuan confidently charred the poor sacrifice, apparently spending most of the cooking time staring off at the courtyard before belatedly remembering what he was doing and turning the fish to another side.

It finally caught on fire as if the fish’s soul was protesting its mistreatment. Yelping and flailing, Shen Yuan extinguished the flames and stared uncomprehendingly at the fish-shaped bit of charcoal left behind.

There was an awkward silence before Shen Yuan looked back at him and, on seeing his utterly impassive expression, hung his head.

[...]

“…I’ll be in charge of cooking.”

“…en.”

[the-irish-mayhem]

I don’t know if there are AU fics there about Thor meeting Jane in Asgard instead of his mom in Endgame but... could you write if there are none? Love your writing style btw

I started this in quarantine last April, and here I am a year later finishing it. ANGST AHOY. (and thank youuuuuuuu!)

She’s more beautiful than he remembered. He sees her from behind at first, her small frame swathed in a simple, blue wrap gown. She’s folding her clothes from Midgard, hands deft. She misses Rocket darting behind the small lounge, syringe in hand. 

Thor steps fully into the room, and she must hear him. She calls out, “No, I don’t need any help with my clothing, but thank you for the offer.”

He can’t immediately speak. He means to say something, he... he must’ve had a plan before Rocket shoved him through this doorway? Surely, he’d thought of something clever and suave and charming, something that he would’ve said to her when they’d been together and he could make her laugh. Something he would’ve said before--

Before.

Then she turns and--Norns, she is beautiful.

“Oh, Thor,” she says, and then she smiles. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

His tongue feels thick in his mouth. “Y-you-you, uh--” He swallows and tries again. “You don’t have to apologize. For anything. Ever.”

Her brow furrows. “Hey, are you okay?” She’d always known him so well, hadn’t she? And he’d just--allowed her to slip away. Over two years of living together, years of loving and being loved, and he’d just--

“Thor, what’s wrong?” The sheer concern in her voice as she sets her folded clothing down makes his knees feel weak. Then she’s walking towards him and he doesn’t feel prepared for this moment at all.

Norns, he’d made such a mess of everything, and then he’d never gotten a chance to fix it.

She seems to realize at that moment that he’s not the Thor she knows, and she freezes halfway to him. There’s a small, needy part of him that wants to reach out to her, just feel her touch one more time to remind him of a time before his failure so catastrophically rocked the universe.

The other part, that knows he is on a mission and needs to do this in order to succeed, tries to come up with an excuse or a plan. He had one before he walked in, certainly.

“You--” Jane draws back, adopting a tentative, novice defensive stance, “--are not Thor.”

That’s an easy enough answer. “Well, yes, yes I am.”

Her eyes narrow. “Mm, no. Last I saw him, Thor’s beard was shorter. His hair wasn’t, uh--” She glances at the top of his head, “--that. One of your eyes is brown.” She looks down at him. “If you’re Thor, then where’s your armor?”

“Um. Not. On?”

“Yeah, consider me unconvinced. If you’re Thor,” a clever smile dawns on her face, like she’s just solved a long series of complex equations, “then call Mjolnir.”

“Oh.” He’d somehow forgotten that at this time, he still had Mjolnir. He still had his honor, his courage, his--

He’d been worthy, at this time.

“Jane, that’s--I just--” Thor sees Rocket moving behind her, his arm cocked back and ready to take the infinity stone that flows through her veins. “Rocket, wait!”

Jane’s eyes widen, and she whirls around and screams, “What the fuck is that?”

“Thor, come on!” Rocket exclaims.

“Jane,” he says again, “Please just trust me. We need your help.”

She backs away slowly, trying to keep both Thor and Rocket, with his arm still poised to stab, in her sights.

“That’s a talking raccoon,” she breathes. “I’m talking to a raccoon on an alien planet.”

Rocket protests, but Thor cuts him off. “Jane, please.”

“We need to borrow the Aether for like two seconds,” Rocket says. “The fate of the universe kind of depends on it.”

“Someone better explain to me what the hell is going on and fast,” she says, voice raising to nearly a shout, “or you will not like what happens!”

Thor notices the molecular red and black swirling at her fingertips and in her eyes. If she stays this stressed, she’s liable to explode on them. That might knock her unconscious, and while that might make their task in stealing the Aether from her easier, but he can’t stomach the thought of doing that to her.

“Jane, listen to me,” he says, voice soft, falling back into a familiar pattern of calming her down when she’s upset. “I am Thor, but... not the one you know.” He desperately wants to reach out to her, as was his way when they were together, but he holds himself back. “I promise I am not deceiving you. I know that you cannot carry a tune when you sing in the shower, but you do it anyway. You graduated summa cum laude from Culver and got your first doctorate before you were twenty-two, and you always wondered if you should’ve slowed down to enjoy university life more. You always chew the end of your pen or pencil when you’re working. We had dinner with your mother every other weekend--” He winces a little at that mention. "That--um. I guess that hasn’t... happened yet.”

He sees wheels turning behind her eyes, and there’s something easy here between them, a familiar thread of trust that feels all too good for Thor to pick up again. Her brow furrows slightly as her incredible mind works, and her bottom lip ends up between her teeth.

“You’re saying this is time travel,” she says, matter-of-fact. Like she’s positing a hypothesis with Tony or Darcy in the lab.

He’s missed this. He’s missed her. Norns, has he missed her.

“Oh my god,” Jane breathes, “Time travel.” A massive grin spreads across her face. “It’s possible; I knew it!” Her eyes are alight and Thor is struck with another stab of longing. She’s standing right in front of her and yet he misses her so fiercely. “Tell me everything. How did I do it? I’ve only got some rough schematics drawn up of a wormhole generator, but I bet that’s how it was done. Ha!” She pumps a fist in a small victory motion.

“We’re wasting time, here, loverboy,” Rocket interrupts, his small claws wrapped a little too eagerly around the syringe meant to transport the stone.

“Rocket, shut up,” Thor growls.

She steps closer to him, her eagerness for knowledge shining from her face like a light. “How’d we compensate for the energy? Ooh, and how are you planning on returning to your timeline? Do you have some sort of recall device? How is that powered? Or is it like a yo-yo type of device which sends you for a certain amount of time and then calls you back automatically? That would make sense for why your raccoon friend is in such a hurry.” Her eyes widen a little. “That seems like something I’d do. It would probably be beyond the scope of our capabilities to make a power cell small enough to carry on your person, depending on when you guys came from--”

It comes out of him like pus from lancing an infected wound: “You didn’t do it.”

It breaks his heart a little bit to see her imagination come to a grinding halt, to see the shock and disappointment flood across her features. “I... I didn’t?”

Tears prickle at the back of his eyes. “No. You... no.”

“Oh,” she breathes. He can see her visibly shrink, shoulders caving in and her previous exuberance extinguishing like a snuffed candle.

His chest hurts. He wants to hold her.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks.

“Oh,” she says again, a different note to it this time. “Am I, um... you know. Dead?”

It feels like a punch to the stomach to hear her say it. He can’t voice it out loud. He’d seen her name on the list of known Avengers asset casualties. Her name was chiseled into stone on the Lost Monument in London. He’d only visited in a fit of drunken self-flagellation one time, and once had been more than enough.

Apparently he doesn’t need to say it. Even without years together under her belt, he’s never been particularly subtle nor she particularly obtuse.

“I see,” is all she says, her arms crossing over her chest, one hand coming up to her chin. Her thumb taps her lower lip once. Twice. “How did I die? Old age?” She winces a little. “Something sooner than that?”

Thor’s tongue sits thick in his mouth.

“A bad guy snapped his fingers and killed half the universe,” Rocket says, impatient with Thor’s inability to communicate. “You were part of the unlucky half.”

Jane’s eyes widen. “Snapped... his fingers.”

“Yes,” Rocket grits, “and if we don’t borrow the Aether we won’t be able to bring any of those people back, so if you don’t mind--”

She’s already offering her arm before he finishes his sentence. “Take it. It’s killing me anyway, although--” Jane lets out a harsh chuckle, “--if you’re from a future where I’m killed by a finger-snapping psycho-killer, then I guess I won’t die from this, at least.”

Rocket smiles at Jane and then sends a seething look Thor’s way. “See, Thor, how efficient a little cooperation can make things?”

For how much they struggled with fixing Jane’s Aether affliction in this timeline, it’s almost trivially easy for Rocket to jab the needle into Jane and take the stone. The syringe is specially crafted to draw in and store this particularly finicky stone, but it goes off without a hitch, and when Rocket withdraws the needle, Jane simply covers her now bleeding arm with a hand.

Rocket thanks her, the caustic raccoon strangely polite now that he’s realized what kind of person Jane is, and turns to Thor.

“Time to jet, big boy,” he says.

“Wait,” Thor says, impulse overriding any other judgements, “give me a moment.”

Rocket sighs, and glancing between Jane and Thor, he seems to understand. Given the chance, Thor knows Rocket would want to talk to his family that he lost. Thankfully, it looks like he will afford Thor the same courtesy.

“A moment,” Rocket echoes, a not-so-subtle reminder that they cannot stay here in the safety of the past when they have a job to do. A universe to save. People to bring back.

Rocket exits the room, leaving Thor and Jane alone.

“Do you, um.” Jane’s hands scrunch up the skirt of her dress before she gestures at the couch. “Want to sit?”

As he sits down, Jane follows next to him, so close and warm, he realizes belatedly that he has been dying to talk to someone who loves him. Desperate to talk to someone who knows him on a deeper level than his friends on Earth and New Asgard. (At this time, they’re all alive. His mother, here and hale. Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Sif, likely somewhere nearby and plotting with him on how they’re going to solve the latest challenge. And Jane.)

She asks him a simple, “How long has it been?” and it all spills out of him, a dam overdue to be broken after five years of holding his pain and guilt at bay. He tells her of Ragnarok, the broad strokes of it anyway, losing his friends and his home and Mjolnir, that they’d broken up, Thanos, the stones, the battle they’d lost, the five years of wounded peace, and the chance they now have to fix it.

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” he whispers. “All that suffering and pain because I failed. We found him, and I killed him... but what was the point? We were too late, and I was just an idiot with an axe.”

“I might not know you as well as your Jane does,” she says slowly, “but I know enough to know that you’re no idiot.” She leans into him, looping her elbow around his and reaching for his hand. Their fingers twine, something familiar to Thor but new for her. “Everyone fails at something. That doesn’t make you a failure, it just makes you like everyone else.”

“But I’m supposed to be better.”

She shrugs. “Then prove it. When I first met you, and you failed to get Mjolnir back from the crater site, you didn’t shut down or stop trying. You just...” She sighs. “I don’t really know, but you just decided that you were still going to be better, even if you didn’t have your hammer. You taught me about the realms, you went to Izzy and apologized for smashing her mug,” she chuckles a little at that, “and it probably wasn’t what you wanted, but what I saw then wasn’t a failure. I didn’t fully get it then, but you had literally lost everything--your home, your way of life, your family, Mjolnir and your powers--but you still smiled at us, still kept moving forward when everything was trying to crush you. That’s a hero, if you ask me.”

He swallows, his emotion for this woman threatening to overwhelm him for a few heartbeats. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers. She leans back, relaxed and easy.

“You should try to call Mjolnir,” she suggests, so casual and offhand that it nearly knocks him off the couch.

He could, he realizes. Mjolnir is not gone in this timeline, and if they will return the Aether to it’s proper place, Mjolnir can make the trip back just as easily.

He’s spent the last five years proving himself to be a worthless lump of a man, being the exact opposite of what Jane thought him to be, but it isn’t too late for him. It had never felt right, being in the skin of a depressed, lazy drunk who sometimes couldn’t summon the energy to leave his bed or talk to his friends. It hadn’t been him. In fact, he’s felt more like himself since he’d come back to the Avengers for this wild, last-ditch effort to fix what Thanos did than he’s felt in a long time.

The last five years have changed him, certainly, but if Jane can still see the man who’d unflinchingly faced down death as a human man in New Mexico, then he can try to see him to.

Thor stands and reaches out, calling for a presence that had been his constant companion since he was a boy.

He calls, and Mjolnir answers.

Thor smiles.

[soulmate-game]

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT YOU GUYS HAVE ADOPTED ME. THIS IS MY REBELLION (thanks)

Now, a proper introduction to this story:

—*—*—*—*—*

“I do not see why we all had to come,” Damian groused, hands shoved into his pockets. Bruce had decided to set up a new branch of Wayne Enterprises in Paris, and apparently that required him and all his sons to come with him on a weeklong trip to scout out the perfect location from a set of possibilities and start networking. Selina and the girls had decided to allow all the boys the much needed vacation, taking over Gotham-sitting in their absence. There were the Zeta Tubes in Paris if all else failed anyway.

(The girls only made this deal with the agreement that they would get their own, twice as long vacation to some tropical island once they got back).

Bruce straightened out his suit. “This trip serves two purposes at once, Damian,” he started to tell his youngest in what all his sons dubbed the Lecture Voice. “Obviously, the public reason is setting up WE’s new headquarters here. The real reason, however, is that Diana is bad at keeping secrets for long periods of time.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jason asked, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he still had absolutely no idea how he managed to get roped into this shit. He didn’t want to be in Paris, let alone on a trip alone with his ‘family.’

Bruce hummed for a moment, looking around to make sure nobody was listening to the foreigners speaking in soft English. Nobody was. They continued walking down the street, but Bruce was careful to keep his voice low regardless. “Clark mentioned something about Lois wanting to visit a reporter friend of hers here in Paris, and Diana immediately changed the subject. What with her having worked at the Louvre in the past, Clark had wanted her feedback on the best places to take Lois to eat. Diana nearly exploded from how badly she was trying to steer the conversation as far away from Paris as possible.”

“You think she’s hiding something from the League?” Tim asked, eyebrows furrowed. He was the least upset about this whole thing, since he would have been forced to come on the trip anyway as WE’s COO. “That doesn’t seem like her thing.”

“It isn’t,” Bruce agreed. “Unless she felt honor bound to keep a secret. And if Diana of all people feels honor bound to keep a secret…”

“Then it’s big,” Dick finished with a nod. “She probably has a contact or friend here who convinced her to keep something away from the League. So you brought us all here to figure it out, then?”

“I had Barbara look into things on the Computer, but she didn’t turn up as much as we expected. Apparently something is messing with the electronic signals leaving Paris, hardly any information leaves this city on any electronic waves at all unless it’s specifically meant to, like business emails or political business. Local shows and news, any small time websites or blogs, all of those sorts of things are suddenly mysteriously inaccessible anywhere outside of city limits. Even social media posts.”

Tim frowned. That wasn’t… good.

Their conversation was interrupted by an explosion, followed by the collapse of the Eiffel Tower and the ringing of alarm bells.

“AKUMA ALERT. AKUMA ALERT. EVACUATE TO DESIGNATED SHELTERS. AKUMA ALERT.”

The group of civilian-dressed heroes tensed, looking around to see that the majority of locals seemed rather calm about the whole thing. They were brisk and efficient in evacuating, but not overly panicked. Bruce decided that was a good enough reason to tap a native’s shoulder and ask what was going on. Luckily, he and all his sons were fluent in French so none of them would be left confused.

The citizen they had pulled aside, a blond that Bruce belatedly realized was the mayor’s daughter, blinked up at them as if surprised to be interrupted. Then realization came over her face, making her relax slightly.

“Oh! You are the Waynes, correct? Daddy told me you all would be visiting from Gotham this week,” she turned her head over her shoulder to survey the chaos around them. “This is an Akuma attack. It’s the result of Paris’s own resident nut job super villain. Since you will all be here for the next few days, it’s important for you to know,” she put her hands on her hips and stared the group down as if all of them weren’t half a foot taller than her and much more well built, and ignoring the fact that everyone else around them was fleeing to safety. “Keep your emotions in check. HawkMoth, the villain behind this whole disaster, takes advantage of people’s negative emotions to turn them into temporary super powered villains called Akumas. If you get too angry or sad or even scared, you’re vulnerable to him.”

“Attacks like this happen almost every day, at this point. It’s been going on for three years now. But you shouldn’t have to worry— right on time,” Chloè Bourgeois suddenly smiled smugly as a red and black figure could be seen running across rooftops in a blur. “That’s our primary superhero, Ladybug. Her partner Chat Noir shouldn’t be far behind. As long as we go to a shelter, everything should be fine. The closest one is this way,” she told them, starting to lead the group away.

“Are you not at all worried about the Eiffel Tower?” Dick asked, disbelief clear in his tone even as he and his family followed the teenager. “Isn’t that a massive source of tourism for this place?”

Chloè snorted, waving her hand dismissively. “Please. The Eiffel Tower gets destroyed every Tuesday, practically. The news station gets ransacked almost every Thursday, and for some reason the Louvre only gets attacked every other Saturday or so. The Seine gets decent action too. Everything will go back to normal as soon as the Akuma is defeated.”

“Normal?” Jason interjected, eyebrows furrowed. “How can the Eiffel Tower suddenly come back from being rubble?”

Chloé laughed, very out of place considering the emptying streets. “That’s because of Ladybug. Her power reverses all the damage from an Akuma attack, as if it never happened in the first place. If we’re caught outside and flattened by a thrown car or giant falling rock? Poof, brought back to life without any injuries once Ladybug beats the Akuma. Drown during an attack? Poof, brought back. Beheaded by a maniac Akuma after revenge? Poof, head back on,” the heiress explained rather crassly.

Her examples were making the men behind her grimmer and grimmer. They came to the girl far too easily to just be made up scenarios.

“Watch out!” An unfamiliar voice called out, a red figure suddenly landing right in front of them before a resounding explosion rocked the whole street. Chloé shrieked, covering her head with her hands. The Waynes braced themselves and did their best to stay upright, getting right back up as quickly as possible when that failed.

When the dust cleared, it revealed the woman they had briefly caught a glimpse at before. Ladybug. True to form, she was dressed in red with black spots, though it looked as if her skin tight uniform wouldn’t offer much protection. In front of her was a slightly transparent pink shield which—oh. Nope. That was a shield she made by swinging a yo-yo.

An honest-to-Batman YO-YO was her main weapon, and it apparently could create magical shields to deflect explosives.

“Chloe! What have I told you about getting to a shelter as soon as possible?” The heroine shouted at the blonde heiress, who just pointed at the men she had been leading.

“I was! But I ran into tourists who had no idea what to do, I was trying to get all of us to a shelter!” The blond defended herself, before her eyes widened and her pointing finger moved. “Behind you!”

Ladybug turned a bit, but didn’t seem surprised at all when a black blur came out of seemingly nowhere and knocked into the floating villain dressed in gaudy oranges and yellows, knocking the Akuma’s aim off track. The explosion that the villain had meant for Ladybug and the civilians she was protecting hit the side of the road instead, hurting nothing but concrete.

“You were almost late, Chaton,” Ladybug called to the figure dressed in black, her voice teasing and eyes amused. The figure batted the Akuma away on buy time before jogging over, revealing a blond boy in a distressingly leather costume that was far too similar to Catwoman’s for any of the Gotham males to be comfortable with.

“Not my fault you took off ahead of me, Milady!” He shot right back, just as teasingly.

“Graaaaaah!” The Akuma, Explosion, pushed himself back up to his feet and glared at the heroes. “Die, die, die! You want to laugh at me, you want to say how I’ve ‘blown up,’ I’ll blow YOU up! See how you like it!”

“Their dialogue never gets any better,” Chaton, who the Gotham boys guessed was the Chat Noir that Chloé has mentioned, quipped as he spun a bo staff in his hands lazily. “Milady?”

Ladybug nodded. “The Akuma is in their belt. We’re gonna have to get up close for this one,” she remarked, getting her yo-yo ready to call on Lucky Charm. But, before she got a chance to, a blur ran out from behind her and tackled the super villain. “No!”

Ladybug immediately ran over, not caring that the green eyed boy was an amazing fighter and managed to grapple the Akuma to the ground in seconds. Power flowed into the Akuma’s gloved hands, and Ladybug was barely able to pull the civilian away before he got blasted.

“Don’t tackle a magically powered villain, what are you thinking?!” She yelled at him, grabbing the boy into a princess hold and jumping back as Explosion tried to hit them. She ignored the boy’s protests and attempts to escape her grip, dodging around every punch and kick. Her eyes strayed to the side, and the heroine suddenly smirked.

“Chat noir! Now!”

Her partner lunged, using Explosion’s distraction to use Cataclysm on the guy’s belt. Ladybug released Damian’s legs so she could purify the butterfly, one-handedly swinging her yo-yo with barely any effort. After a few seconds the cure was cast, and the damage reversed. The red clad heroine looked over at her partner and Chloé, her mouth straightening into a frown.

“Chloé, can you get the victim to calm down and try to sort out the whole issue surrounding the video that was posted without his consent? Chat, go ahead and go. I got this sorted out.”

Ladybug didn’t wait for a response, turning her head to lock gazes with Bruce, who was clearly the oldest of her group of tourists and the one in charge. “Follow me, monsieur,” she said curtly, turning and half-dragging Damian with her by the arm. She waited until they reached an alleyway that would keep any of them from being easily noticed. She didn’t want anyone to catch this confrontation on camera.

“I understand you are new to Paris,” she said softly, her voice hard as she released her hold on the teen and swept her eyes over everyone he was with. “But this is not a game. You do not tackle an Akuma unless you have a nearly indestructible suit on and the powers to combat one, do you understand me?”

“I thought you could bring the dead back to life?” Another male said, his blue eyes sharp her his fluffy black hair. “Tim Drake, by the way.”

Ladybug nodded. “I can. But that doesn’t mean I want anyone injured or dead if I can help it. X-rays have shown that even the Cure leaves a few residual marks. If someone drowns and is brought back, their lungs are weaker than before. If someone was smashed by rubble, their x-rays show evidence of the breaks even if they are healed far better than normal time and medical procedures can accomplish. Phantom pains, aches, the damage done by death doesn’t go away just because magic fixed it. Little things remain, even if your memory of the death doesn’t,” she explained sharply. She turned to the green-eyed boy again, making mutual eye contact for the first time.

“Paris is my city. I don’t care how good you are at fighting, you cannot run into a battle like that again. I asked for heroes and vigilantes to be distracted or entirely sent away from coming here to avoid this exact situation and having to fight Akumas I might not be able to handle, and I am not above using my influence to get you deported for the same reasons. Am I understood?”

The boy opened his mouth, but couldn’t get a word out before him and Ladybug’s worlds shifted. Their eye contact sparked something, sending electricity through their bodies and making both of them blink and gasp.

Their point of view was cut in half. Damian found himself staring at Ladybug, but he could also see what could only be Ladybug’s point of view as she stared right back at him.

He raised one eyebrow slowly. Figures his soulmate would be a hero. He couldn’t see how a relationship with a civilian would work for him, though he hardly gave thought to relationships in general. From both her lecture and the way she handled the fight, he knew her to be experienced and professional. The way she held herself alone was enough to garner a spark of respect from him. The fact that the Wayne name didn’t seem to mean much of anything to her also helped.

And not just anybody could grab hold of him that easily and tote him around as he tried to escape their grip.

With a smirk, he held out his hand. Ladybug clearly had no idea that he was a vigilante as well, and he was going to have fun with that.

“My name is Damian Wayne, and apparently Paris is going to become an important city for me as well if you’re my soulmate. I promise not to interfere without your permission from here on.”

Ladybug just swallowed, her eyes wide and… scared? She took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

If she didn’t already know that running away would mean he would find out her identity, she would have. But since they could see from each other’s point of view, that was not a good idea.

A few beeps sounded from her earrings, making Ladybug bite her lip.

“Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she said, ignoring the incredulous stares they were getting from Damian’s family. “I’m gonna go on the other side of this door,” she pointed to the door that she knew was unlocked and a safe place to detransform. “And then we are going to meditate until we can find a way to undo… this,” she gestured to her eyes, indicating the point of view issue.

“And then we can meet on the rooftops tonight, right?” Damian tried, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Ladybug glared at him, knowing what he was doing. He could obviously read that she was going to run away the moment she got the chance, her concern over her identity overruling her desire to know her soulmate. He was trying to make sure she didn’t.

“Fine,” she bit out reluctantly, opening the door in the alleyway and entering the fire exit it led to. She shut the door, allowing herself to detransform. Tikki remained dutifully out of eyeshot. “Meditate. Now,” she barked to the other side of the door.

Kwami, what is my luck?

—*—*—*—*—*

“I hate you so much,” Marinette growled, pouting as she buried her face into Damian’s shoulder. Her boyfriend, her soulmate, just chuckled as he returned her hug. “You were Robin this whole time?”

“Yes, Habibiti,” he said with amusement lacing his tone. It had taken two months and a Wayne-funded weekend trip to Gotham City (for only Marinette) for the girl to put together her boyfriend’s identity.

He had figured out her’s after two weeks.

“In my defense, I didn’t meet Robin until last night and I figured out it was you as soon as I got some sleep,” she defended herself.

“Maybe you would have put it together immediately if you hadn’t stayed up for the past thirty-six hours on a commission,” Damian gently scolded, earning a snort from his girlfriend.

“I’ll sleep when I die. Speaking of die. You owe me a lot of fabric and good food to apologize for keeping this secret before I kill you. I know you only did it to mess with me.”

Damian just laughed, unrepentant. It was true.

“I’ll ask Pennyworth to make your favorites.”

“You better.”

—*—*—*—*—*

[everwitch-magiks]

dance with somebody (ch. 10)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 9

It could’ve been worse, Whiskey decides, as he finds himself trudging his way across the unsurprisingly crowded campus with Ford and Tango, on a mission to get to the murder Stop-n-Shop before the disposable cups are completely sold out. Really, it could’ve been so much worse.

They’ve already passed by more than three sets of Powerpuff girls, and Whiskey is pretty sure he could look in any direction and immediately spot at least one Alexander Hamilton. At least one. Among all the outrageously flashy costumes around them, the three of them actually look a little bit low-key despite their carefully coordinated ridiculousness. Which honestly suits Whiskey just fine. And thankfully, it doesn’t seem to bother Ford and Tango at all – the two of them look kind of absurdly excited in their matching black cloaks and house scarves.

It’s actually pretty endearing.

“We’ve gotta get a group picture, later,” Whiskey says, surprising himself.

Ford turns towards him, beaming.

“I know, right? I’m so glad I finished knitting in time!”

“Totally,” Tango agrees enthusiastically. “Hey, do you really think the theatre club will really need these cloaks back? ‘Cause I could get used to this.”

“So sorry, Weasley, but Chanelle will murder me if I don’t have them back by Monday.”

“Chanelle, huh? D’you think she’s the culprit behind the ol’ Stop-n-Shop murder?”

“I mean, if someone ever spoke to her before her second cup of coffee in the morning? Probably.”

After zig-zagging between two separate teams of superheroes trying to herd one another in place for a picture, they finally get to Stop-n-Shop. At once, Ford’s expression turns serious.

“Okay. Ready?”

“When you are,” Tango says gravely. “Let’s just hope at least one of us makes it back out alive.”

They get into formation, and slowly elbow their way inside the shop.

It’s packed, literally packed. Whiskey carefully steps between Tinker Bell and Gandalf as he heads towards the back of the shop, just as planned. A look over his shoulder tells him Tango’s already made his way over to the registers and is trying to figure out where the line ends, so he can get in it and hold a spot for them. He can’t even see Ford anymore, but he’s sure she’s doing everything she can to get over to the section for kitchen essentials, where it’s most likely they’ll actually find what they’re looking for.

Whiskey turns around again, and resolutely keeps making his way towards the back. There’s a shelf around there that has office supplies, and a selection of scented candles, and sometimes seasonal wrapping paper. There’s a slight chance there’ll be some kind of cups or mugs around there, too. Obviously, they’ve got to exhaust every option.

It’s for the good of the Halloween kegster.

Unfortunately, the store is no less crowded near the back. Whiskey has just carefully avoided colliding with a pair of Power Rangers when he finds himself walking right into a guy in a unicorn onesie, instead.

“Shit – sorry, I’m so sorry.” Whiskey steps backwards, only there’s a shelf behind him, so it doesn’t really help very much. “Didn’t see you there, I was-”

The guy looks up. Whiskey falls silent.

It’s Miguel.

Intro to statistics, Wednesdays and Fridays.

“Oh,” Whiskey says awkwardly, only to immediately realize that doesn’t even make sense. “I mean, hi.”

Miguel looks at him a little unsurely.

And honestly? That’s fair.

Whiskey hasn’t talked to Miguel since their brief encounter at Founders. In fact, it might be the case that Whiskey has made it his business not to talk to Miguel, quite on purpose. Which shouldn’t be such a big deal, considering that the two of them weren’t even friends before Whiskey decided that wasn’t on the table, anymore.

The unfortunate thing is, Whiskey is pretty sure that Miguel has noticed. At any rate, there’s definitely been a couple of times when Whiskey has caught Miguel glancing his way during class.

Or maybe, Whiskey belatedly realizes, it might actually have been himself who's been caught watching Miguel.

Right now, though, Miguel is sort of looking anywhere but at Whiskey. He’s got his attention focused on the almost thinning crowd to their left, looking very much like he’s planning on making his escape as soon as an opportunity arises. Which should be a good thing. It should be one hundred percent exactly what Whiskey wants.

It’s not what Whiskey wants.

For a moment, Whiskey allows himself to look at Miguel. Just look at him. It’s difficult – Whiskey has to fight the prickling urge to glance around them, to make sure that no one is watching, that no one will look over and see what’s happening and just know. Except, Whiskey suddenly realizes, that’s actually pretty fucking unlikely. Right next to them, one Princess Peach and three ninjas are having an increasingly heated debate on who’s chosen the superior party snack, and over in the next aisle a whole gang of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are halfway through a spontaneous rendition of the show’s theme song in several different keys.

Who the fuck is gonna care about a wizard and a unicorn over in a corner, just talking?

Maybe, Whiskey could actually let himself have this. Just this. One conversation with a really cute boy, in public, on purpose. Maybe it wouldn’t actually be the end of the world.

Whiskey nervously adjusts his glassless glasses.

“How, uh. How’ve you been?”

Miguel’s eyes snap back towards him.

“Excuse me?”

“How have you been?” Whiskey repeats, enunciating carefully. “How’s statistics going?”

Miguel shrugs, his expression guarded.

“Okay, I guess.”

“It’s kind of growing on me,” Whiskey offers – he can do this, he can carry a normal fucking conversation. “Or maybe I’m just relieved that I actually passed the midterm.”

That makes Miguel frown.

“There’s no way you just passed,” he disagrees, before pausing briefly. “I mean. You don’t seem like you’ve got no clue about all those things, in class.”

“Appearances can be pretty deceiving,” Whiskey returns, and it’s honestly ridiculous, the way Miguel’s hesitant smile makes Whiskey’s heart flutter. Fucking ridiculous.

“That’s true,” Miguel replies, his eyes flickering down to Whiskey’s scarf for a moment. “Because you definitely can't be a Gryffindor.”

“No, God no – this is just a costume.” Whiskey dares a slight smile of his own. “I go to Beauxbatons, actually."

That makes Miguel laugh a little. Whiskey’s heart soars.

"You speak French, then?" Miguel throws at him, his tone a little playful – or maybe actually flirty? How is one supposed to tell the difference?

"Uh... Non?"

"If you say so," Miguel says loftily. "Estoy seguro de que hablas otros idiomas."

"... That's Spanish, right?"

Miguel grins.

"Ten points to Slytherin," he declares, his expression giddy in a way that unfortunately doesn't make him any less cute, at all. “I really like your glasses, by the way.”

“The glasses are my one contribution to this costume,” Whiskey hurriedly admits. “My friends put together literally everything else.”

“The glasses are a nice touch, though,” Miguel says kindly. “They actually suit you pretty well.”

“... Uh. Thanks.” Whiskey has no idea of what he’s supposed to say to that – something about Miguel’s costume, probably? “You, um. You make a really nice unicorn.”

Fuck. He must try to think before he speaks, from now on.

Thankfully, it seems like Whiskey’s limitless awkwardness doesn’t make Miguel think Whiskey is completely out of his mind. Instead, Whiskey watches in a state of fear infused with delight as Miguel ducks his head for a moment, smiling.

Fucking fuck.

“Hey,” Miguel says, looking up to meet Whiskey’s eyes again – compared to before, he sounds oddly determined. “We should meet up sometime. You could definitely give me some pointers for statistics, and we could also, y’know. Just hang out? Maybe?"

… Whiskey was not expecting that.

Evidently, his surprise is showing on his face, because Miguel immediately backpedals.

“I mean, only if you have time – I guess the hockey season’s in full swing, right about now? Must be tough.”

Whiskey takes a deep breath, and allows himself to glance around the two of them, just once. The crowd’s finally thinned out a little bit – for the first time since they left the Haus, there’s not a single Alexander Hamilton in sight. Still, even without the presence of shouting Princess Peaches and musically inclined Ninja Turtles, there’s actually nobody watching them. Nobody seems even a little bit curious about what’s happening over in their little corner.

No one will know. No one will even care.

Whiskey bravely turns back towards Miguel.

“Sure.”

It’s Miguel’s turn to look surprised, now.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Whiskey repeats. “D’you wanna-”

“Hey, Whiskey! Let’s get moving!”

Whiskey curses inwardly as he turns around – Tango and Ford are gesturing towards him enthusiastically from across the shop, both carrying several bags full of disposable cups.

At least the kegster is saved.

“I’ve gotta go,” Whiskey says, quickly turning back towards Miguel. “You should have my number.”

Miguel is staring at him.

“Whiskey?”

Oh. Right.

“My last name’s Whisk,” Whiskey points out, feeling more self-conscious than ever. “Do you have a pen?”

“No, but here.” Miguel presses his phone into Whiskey’s hands, the screen showing a new contact with empty fields. The brief brush of their fingers is nothing short of exhilarating. “So, do you actually like to drink whiskey?”

“Not particularly.” Whiskey quickly types in his number. Obviously, he saves himself as Whiskey – nothing else for it, at this point. “There. All done.”

“Great.” Miguel smiles briefly towards his phone, before looking back at Whiskey again. “I’ll see you, then?”

“Of course,” Whiskey promises, and finds that he wants to linger. “Bye. I’ll see you, too.”

“Yo, Potter! The Hogwarts Express ain't gonna wait!"

Whiskey grimaces. Then he gives Miguel an awkward wave, and leaves.

“We got the very last of the plastic cups, but it should be enough,” Ford tells Whiskey cheerfully as she shoves two bags into his hands. “Let’s go. Who was that, anyway?”

“A guy from my statistics class. We’re gonna study together.”

Tango tsks.

“Thinking about studying on a day like this? It’s Halloween, my darlings – anything and everything can happen, so let your spirits fly!"

Whiskey allows himself a slight grin.

"Yeah. You might actually be onto something, T."

Ford gives him a somewhat curious look.

Whiskey carefully avoids meeting her eyes.

(ch. 11)

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 20

The room they wound up in seemed to breathe. The walls moved in a moist, rhythmic pattern and the space was lit with a low purple bioluminescence. Tommy stumbled for a few moments on the spongy, uneven floor, fighting off a wave of nausea as he supported himself on something that was like a pillar. While the portal spat out the rest of the team behind him, Tommy cast a look over their new surroundings.

This place appeared more organic, the colossal ribcage of an extraterrestrial whale. There was not a single item from Earth in sight. The walls glistened with a sheen that was like oil on blacktop. He paced the room, unsteady and observant, as a bright flash of light heralded his companions’ arrival.

“Hello, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer said, just barely staggering to his feet as the man in question landed on the other side.

Gordon groaned. “Hello. Hello,” he said, voice thin and weak. “I’m sick of teleporting. I don’t wanna do it again, man. I don’t wanna d-”

“Teleportation sickness is a common side effect,” Coomer interrupted, sighing heavily as he gained his bearings.

“How do you know that? He’s... we don’t-”

Bubby offered Gordon a hand through his speculation and pulled him to his feet. “Hello, Gordon.”

“Hello,” he responded. “Where’s Tommy?”

Tommy angled his chin at the sound of his name and rejoined the others. “I’m right here.”

Gordon gave Tommy’s hand a light squeeze of acknowledgement as soon as he was within reach. Tommy was slow to return the gesture - he was studying Gordon’s face, which was steadily growing uneasy as he took in their surroundings.

“Look - look at what I found,” he said, releasing Gordon’s hand to indicate the ribcage of spires. “These look like, ah, huge columns that they use for construction for their fucked up alien construction technology.”

Gordon fidgeted as he passed a glance overhead. “I don’t care,” he said, then quickly clarified, “like, like I’m not saying that to you, Tommy, just - I just don’t-” Gordon sighed in frustration. “I wanna be out of here. This is all a fuckin’ scientific marvel, and we can write notes about it when we get home later, but now-”

“Look,” Bubby interrupted. “This all reminds me of the time that-”

He vanished.

Gordon, Coomer, and Tommy exchanged a perplexed look.

“What? Oh, what is happening?” Gordon wondered to no one in particular.

Bubby manifested as quickly as he’d disappeared. “And then I - Where did I go?” He cut a glance to the three men staring at him.

“Where did you go?” Gordon asked. “What did you see?”

Bubby paused, gears turning in his head while the room breathed around him. “...Shit’s fucked, man,” he concluded uneasily.

Gordon’s shoulders shook in a nervous chuckle.

“The rules of this place are different from ours, Gordon,” Coomer deduced. “They - oh.”

He hunched over suddenly, clutching at his chest. The breath hissed out of him in an agonized whine, and then his joints rearranged themselves in a sickening series of cracks. The scream Coomer uttered made Tommy’s blood run cold. He rapidly averted his eyes.

“D-Doctor Coomer?” Gordon whispered.

The scrambled collection of limbs that was Dr. Coomer rebuilt itself with a heavy crunch. “So we need to be careful,” the boxer finished brightly, as if nothing had happened.

“What w-” Gordon’s sentence crumbled into a panicked, stuttering sound as his eyes went round. “Shit. Nothing means anything anymore.”

As he said this, both Bubby and Coomer folded in on themselves in a horrifying collapse of pained cries and impossible contortions. Gordon, panicked, darted a glance at Tommy, as if he thought he might deteriorate into this agonizing meaninglessness, as well.

Tommy returned his gaze with a tight-lipped grimace. He could feel the intent of this alive place, how hungry it was to pull him apart piece by piece, but he’d be dead in the ground before he let himself become interdimensional roast pork in Benrey’s homeland. I’m not going anywhere, his eyes told Gordon.

Gordon returned his stare to the other scientists. “What is happening to you two?” he barked.

Bubby quickly righted himself, flicking his usual cool look between Gordon and Tommy. “I want to get moving,” he said. “Let’s go, Gordon.”

“Why do you keep making those sounds?” he persisted.

Coomer rolled his neck like he was just waking up from a nap. “Come along now, Gordon,” he said, beckoning for him to follow Bubby into a nearby hallway.

Gordon looked to Tommy again, and after a few seconds of contemplation, he gave a hesitant nod. Perhaps Bubby and Coomer would lose themselves here. If that were the case, it would be sad and unfair, but in the end, they still had to push forward. In the end, Tommy still had Gordon’s back. In the end, they were still going home.

His expression was tortured, but Gordon nodded back. They headed out.

---

It was the same song they knew so well by now, but Xen put it in a different key. Run, hide, shoot, watch your buddy’s back. Grapple with the horrifying ordeal of imminent mortality. Wipe the goo off your shoes. Tommy shouldered his rifle and his own fragile heartbeat as well as he could in the belly of this beast, but Benrey’s watching eyes made the whole trip that much more nightmarish.

The entity was toying with them, phasing in and out of the walls in increasingly unrecognizable shapes as he followed them through Xen. Tommy latched onto his own annoyance so that fear couldn’t override his nerves, but ignoring Benrey was much more difficult now that he was ten stories tall and threatening to eat them alive. He tried to keep an eye on Benrey, the aliens, their deranged teammates, and Gordon all at once and found himself coming up woefully short.

Not to mention he had to watch out for himself, which was something he still wasn’t used to. The latent static in his body that signified the blood in his veins hadn’t wavered since passing through the portal. He kicked himself with the reminder over and over. He could die, Gordon could die, they all could die out here. Keeping it in mind while trying not to dwell on it too much was proving more difficult than it seemed. Benrey was practically licking his lips in anticipation.

At least Bubby and Coomer seemed relatively stable after their initial breakdown at the start of this trek. Their surefire aim and superhuman instincts pressed them down the path at a decent clip. Forward. Always forward. Climbing ramps and clearing gaps and dodging arcs of electricity. This place was organic-adjacent; almost alive, almost watching them, and Tommy wasn’t sure whether the stray gunfire they popped off mattered or if it was just making their environment more enraged.

His brain grasped for context and he contemplated how this place came to be. How long had it been here? Was it older than Earth? If Benrey called Xen home, were there other denizens here like him? Lost in his thoughts, he nearly missed Gordon losing his footing and slipping into a vat of caustic green fluid.

He hurried belatedly to haul him out of the stuff, struggling until Coomer joined him and grabbed the man’s other arm. To Tommy’s ire, he couldn’t quite bend the laws of physics in a plane where physics was busted beyond repair. He was glad he could rely on the boxer’s strong hands to help him pull Gordon free.

He emerged, coughing and spluttering, and Tommy steadied him by the elbow until he was able to right himself. “I thought you guys had left me for dead,” he panted.

Tommy wiped slime off on his slacks. “No,” he stated flatly, because there was no other response to an assumption so preposterous.

Dr. Coomer slapped the man’s shoulder congenially, spraying them both with the green liquid. “We’d never leave you, Gordon,” he assured him.

As Gordon turned to fish his glasses out of the vat he’d fallen in, Tommy idly voiced his thoughts. “I can't believe this is what life would be like if - I - if… If mammals evolved with moon shoes,” he guessed.

“Yeah.” Gordon murmured after a pause, flicking the water off of his frames with preoccupation. He passed a questioning look to Tommy, no doubt wondering if he could clear his lenses like he’d done so many times before, and Tommy had to give an apologetic shake of his head in return.

Not here. Not now. He felt so fucking useless.

Bubby reemerged from the hall he’d been exploring, beckoning to them ardently. “Over here,” he urged.

“And to think,” Tommy went on as he fell in line with the others, “that if gravity was just a little lower on our planet that all - we would live like this.”

He wasn’t even sure if it was something he’d logically concluded or if his mind was just cobbling together some kind of sense out of glue and thumbtacks in an attempt to right himself. It felt kind of silly, saying it out loud. But perhaps the silliness itself was a comfort.

Gordon, at least, acknowledged him. “Our brains would develop different,” he agreed, pulling up short when the hallway emptied out to a chasm. The walls were ringed and red like a trachea, and Gordon grimaced with distaste. “Aw don’t tell me this is another portal - oh shit what is that?”

The team collectively followed Gordon’s horrified stare to the creature descending on them through the ceiling. Benrey was no longer lurking, now, and he defied the structural integrity of what made up a human body in a grotesque pinwheel of bone and sinew. Tommy wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the thing as Benrey if it weren’t for his familiar, grating voice echoing through the chamber.

“Yo, friend! Welcome!”

Quickly, they took cover from the entity’s sharp, flailing limbs, pressed hard against the walls of the vertical structure despite the wetness. Tommy racked his rifle, even though he knew the hollow points were worth jack shit at this stage, while Gordon hissed out a repetitive, “What is that? What is he? What is he? What is that?” through his teeth beside him.

Coomer angled a sharp nod at Tommy and the two of them leaned out from the corner to take aim at the entity. Benrey disappeared as quickly as he arrived with a dark, echoing chuckle.

“Where’d he go?” Gordon asked. “You guys saw that, right?”

Coomer sighed and lowered his weapon, looking sick. “Oh, I’ve seen a lot of things I’d like to forget here, Gordon,” he muttered.

---

Higher up in the column that breathed around them, conveyors of colossal blue barrels rolled past. Tommy was reminded vaguely of a production line, though he dreaded to think what sort of creatures were being assembled at this organic factory.

“Look Gordon, barrels!” Coomer pointed out helpfully.

“Oh thank god, something familiar,” Tommy murmured. “They have barrels, just like we do.”

“It’s not - that is not like any barrel I’ve ever seen,” Gordon answered. “That’s like a barrel out of Donkey Kong times twenty.”

Tommy snorted. Of course Gordon was thinking about video games even in this nightmare. Gordon flashed him a brief, cheeky grin of acknowledgement - a burst of humor and then back to business. Tommy wished it could last.

Benrey continued to play cat and mouse with them as they traversed the cathedrals of Xen. They squeezed themselves through a network of vents that made Tommy feel like a blood cell in an artery, emerging on the other side to meet a yawning hole of darkness that hummed at their presence, hungry.

“Aw fuck, another one of these portals.” Gordon grumbled. He paused, eyeing the rectangle of starlight, before checking with the others. “You guys ready?”

Bubby shrugged. “Yeah?”

The man’s voice went quiet. “Okay,” he said, almost inaudible.

Coomer piped up cheerily in an attempt to reassure. “As long as I’m by your side, Gordon, I’m ready for anything.”

“Same to you man,” Gordon replied gratefully, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

The walls reverberated with Benrey’s heavy contradiction. “That’s a lie.”

It was a spine tingling, teeth-chattering declaration, but Tommy couldn’t help but dwell on how wrong Benrey was. He would follow Gordon into hell - had been doing so this whole time - and no amount of interdimensional horrors were going to change that now. The entity had been so consistently off the mark about all of them, he wondered if he was living in his own version of reality as well as his own plane of existence. Was he just throwing darts blindfolded at this point, or did Benrey actually have a plan?

Didn’t change the fact that he was large enough to crush them in one fist, but it was something to think on.

Gordon’s blood was chilled all over again. “Where was he?” he demanded, eyes darting. “Where was he?”

With a scoff, Bubby fiddled with the trigger of his firearm and jerked his chin toward the portal. “Well, I’m good either way.”

Gordon ignored him. “Why is this not freaking you guys out? How are you keeping your cool during this?”

“Now, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer reasoned, “it’s only fair you know I am freaking the fuck out!”

A genuine laugh startled out of Gordon, ringing through the hallway in the lovely, bell chime way, and Tommy felt his throat go tight to hear such a comforting sound.

“I’ve read no books that have talked about any of these things, Mr. Freeman,” he said, smiling faintly.

Gordon met his eyes, playful. “That must scare you more than anything, Tommy.”

“And I’m stronger than anything here.” Bubby declared, snapping the fingers of his free hand impatiently.

“I… don’t believe you,” Gordon replied haltingly.

“I believe him,” Coomer said with confidence, and Tommy caught a brief, wordless exchange between the two older gentlemen.

There was no point lingering. The four of them filed in.

The sickening feeling of rearranging atoms passed through Tommy and he emerged, reeling, on the other side. The way ahead was patterned with stepping stones like a galactic rock garden, leading them leap by leap to a haunting structure up ahead. Spires soared like a chest cavity cracked open, cradling the ragged heartbeat of a fuschia rift in space. The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck stood up just laying eyes on it.

“Whoa,” Gordon breathed. “What is that?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Dr. Coomer echoed.

In the distance, through the haze and the space dust, Benrey lurked. His reflective cat’s eyes were tracking their every movement, and Tommy made a point to shoot a frown in his direction. We see you. At least he was no longer a knotted shoestring of muscle fiber, returning to his four-limbed, human-adjacent form to loom just out of reach.

Gordon noticed, too, raising an arm to point. “Look over there,” he said.

“Oh, no,” Coomer uttered quietly.

The entity watched, but didn’t draw any nearer. Tommy kept his grip tight on his rifle and wondered what he was waiting for. Gordon surveyed him suspiciously out of the corners of his eyes, gauging the threat level for a few moments before turning his eyes to the jagged wound of a portal that awaited them.

“Alright guys,” he said. “Let’s go take a look and see what that is.”

They began their unsteady hop to their destination, navigating the low gravity with care. Tommy’s blood sang with discord the nearer they drew to the rift, and he shook his hands out as if it could dispel the feeling.

“It’s like a - ah, a castle,” he commented.

“I don’t know if I’d call it that, bud.” Gordon sighed. “What on god.” He made the final leap, landing solidly on the chalky rock, and stared. “Holy shit.”

Tommy cleared the gap behind him. The thing was even worse up close, flanked by jets of scalding steam, warping and twisting and folding in upon itself in a way that was a headache to parse. He rubbed at his temples with his free hand and squeezed his eyes shut. The other two scientists landed nearby with a light crunch of gravel.

“Is this Benrey’s?” Gordon asked, flinging a look over his shoulder at the unresponsive entity.

“It’s beautiful,” Coomer commented in awe.

Gordon nodded. “It kind of is in a weird way.”

Bubby was completely dazzled, swirls of crimson and magenta pulsing in the reflection of his glasses as he stared. “It fills me with a joy and energy I’ve never known,” he said.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Benrey shrieked distantly, and he winked out of sight.

Tommy had no doubt the entity fully intended to. In all likelihood, Benrey was on the other side of this rift now, waiting for them to walk willingly to their doom. He wanted to discount the threat like he had so many times in the past, but… Jesus, he really could kill them here, couldn’t he? The rules were different, the turf a different color, time ribboning around their necks in nooses to hang themselves with. He eyed the portal with trepidation, standing on the edge of a conclusion.

Dr. Coomer turned suddenly, attention rapt. “Gordon?” he asked, while space debris drifted past.

He lifted his brows in acknowledgement. “Huh?”

“Gordon, do you like video games?”

“I…” he paused, mouth pulling into a distracted frown. “Yeah, man. You know, that’s - the whole Justin TV thing. Kane & Lynch 2.”

“I’ve never been keen on them myself,” the scientist went on. “I believe I’ve told you this before, but there was one from my childhood when I was younger that inspired much joy in me. It was Super Punch Out, for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System.”

That faint smile reappeared on Gordon’s mouth. “I love Punch Out,” he said fondly.

Coomer grinned fully at the recognition. “It’s a wonderful game about a boxer overcoming all odds to become a champion.”

Tommy listened to their exchange passively, cutting a quick glance to a disinterested Bubby and back. Coomer sounded wistful in a way he’d never heard before, picking Gordon’s brain about life and reality while the other man gave him slow, thoughtful answers. There was a vulnerable deliberation to their words, a quiet consideration, almost as if they were saying…

Goodbye.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Gordon asked.

Dr. Coomer exhaled heavily through his nose, looking away with a shiver, swallowing past an unseen lump in his throat. “Gordon, I don’t think there’s any turning back from this point,” he said quietly.

“No,” Gordon agreed. “You guys ready?”

Was he ready? It was such a simple question, one Tommy had been ruminating on since they wound up in the intestines of Xen, but facing down the portal made him hesitate. They were all so small and fragile and painfully mortal, and what lay on the other side was an eldritch monster with murder in his heart. Was this martyrdom? Was this suicide? How did they kill the unkillable? Tommy felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.

He shook out of his fog in time to hear Gordon checking in with their other teammate.

“Bubby? Let’s do it.”

The prototype nodded and gave a nonchalant thumbs-up. “Yep.”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Gordon had been speaking to him just now. Possibly for the last time. Tommy’s stomach dropped and he stepped toward him with an outstretched hand.

“I couldn’t hear you through this gas,” he blurted in a panic.

Gordon turned slowly in his direction, a complicated look on his face. There was something in his eyes, a deep sadness, a razored fear he was fighting so hard to hide. He was just as marrow-deep afraid as Tommy was, putting on a hero’s front because that was what heroes did, and Tommy thought that maybe he was a little bit in love with him.

Gordon met Tommy’s approach with a tight grip on his shoulder, right where his neck met his collar, touching his skin just barely, and Tommy ached.

“Okay,” he affirmed, his voice only shaking a little. His hand was so warm, even through the glove he wore. “Listen I’m gonna c - can you hear me now?”

Bubby pivoted away, putting a respectable distance between himself and the two of them. “Those fumes can’t be good for you,” he muttered under his breath.

Gordon ignored him. “Can you hear me?” he repeated, like it was the most important question in the world.

Tommy’s face was mere inches from Gordon’s. There was no way he couldn’t hear him. “Yeah.”

“Thank you for being there for me.”

Tommy exhaled painfully. “Gordon…”

This sounded like a goodbye, too, and Tommy's heart ached to hear it. Perhaps it was goodbye. Perhaps this was the last time they’d be able to have this, to speak with one another in this way. What did he even say ? Where did Tommy find the words for the churning sea inside him, here on the edge of the end?

He brought his hand up to cup the side of Gordon’s face, fingertips brushing over the stubble of his jaw. God, he was gorgeous like this, bathed in the magenta light of the portal, eyes wide and dark and locked on him. How had they become this? Four days had passed since they met and Tommy already felt that Gordon Freeman was knitted to his soul.

There was no time to grieve the loss of what could have been. They didn’t have space for long, drawn out confessions, though Tommy wasn’t even sure he’d be able to string together the right words if he had an eternity in this moment. Gordon was staring at him with an unspoken longing, lips slightly parted, and Tommy knew he was right there with him.

He begged the universe to give him one last sweet thing and leaned in.

It was a brief kiss. A last ditch, now-or-never, end of the world kiss. Gordon’s mouth pressed against his with a fervent hunger, fingers digging in tight where he gripped Tommy’s shoulder, pleading wordlessly for more, more, more that Tommy wished desperately he could give. He would stand here and kiss Gordon forever if things were different, eyelashes fluttering shut and gentle heat blooming in his stomach. What a tragic miracle. Tommy kissed him like his heart was about to stop.

When they broke apart, Gordon was rosy from ear to neck, and Tommy guessed from the warmth in his face that he was a mirror to the man in front of him. The portal hummed with impatience as they hesitantly let go of one another, but the eye contact Gordon maintained was as intense as the sun.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” he told Tommy with newfound certainty.

Helplessly, Tommy nodded. “Okay.”

“If it wasn’t for you I would have died back at Black Mesa,” Gordon said. “I’m not throwing that away. We’re gonna kill this fool and we’re gonna go home.”

Tommy could only nod again. He was afraid to let himself hope, but with his mouth still burning in the afterglow of that kiss, he realized he believed him.

Another beat of silence passed, which Gordon eventually broke. “Alright.” He took a step back and surveyed the cathedral of knives that awaited them, then shot a quick glance to Coomer and Bubby, who nodded confirmation that they were ready.

Gordon Freeman, bold and lovely, didn’t hesitate. “Let’s get it!” he called. “Let’s do this!”

They all stood back and watched as their messiah charged into the portal’s hungry mouth. A brilliant flash of light seared their retinas, and as Gordon disappeared, the team moved to follow.

“Let’s give them a good show!” Coomer declared.

They plunged in.

Chapter 19 <-----> Chapter 21

[carrionxcamille]

Ribs of Friendship | Cam, Adam, Cece, & Winn

Timing: Happy hour, June 1st Location: Dell’s Tavern Parties: Camille, Adam- @https://walker-journal.tumblr.com/, Cece- https://thebickedwitchoftherest.tumblr.com/, Winn- https://packsbeforesnacks.tumblr.com/ Summary: An unlikely group get absolutely blasted! At the Sports Bar and get to know eachother over crude jokes and ribs. Just another Totally Normal day in White Crest.

Camille pretty much had a job, finally. Which meant she’d be able to start saving up for a deposit on a flat and could get out of the shitty motel with the vampire neighbors. A reliable supply of hot water, a proper kitchen, her own bedsheets. It was going to be amazing. First, though, she was going to do something spiteful and petty. Jace was going to rot in a prison cell for the rest of his life. There was a Sox game showing this afternoon at a place called Dell’s Tavern — they were baseball, that was all she knew — Camille was going to drink beer, eat ribs, and watch the game. Even though Jace didn’t even know she was alive and would have no idea she was spending her afternoon doing three of his favorite things, it was going to be very satisfying.

She’d been so excited she had even straightened her hair and put on a little makeup for the occasion. Sitting at a stool on the bar with a cool bottle of their cheapest beer waiting for her ribs, Camille was as happy as she’d been in weeks.

“Hey there.” 

Adam sidled into a chair next to Camille. A Sox baseball cap was perched precariously on a mop of the unruly brown hair. Wearing a sleeveless t-shirt with a suggestively shaped pair of baseballs under the phrase, “I’d Hit That,” and a much loved pair of worn jeans, the young man fit in well with the crowd. A lazily jocular edge to his smile hinted that Adam might’ve been pre-gaming well before the first pitch had actually been thrown.  “Enjoying the game?” Adam asked, despite his brown eyes following the soft lines of Camille’s oval face down past her lithe shoulderline, far more intently then anything having to do with baseball. 

Sports bars had to be one of Cece’s favorite places. Not because she enjoyed sports, but because she enjoyed the environment inside of them. The camaraderie, the excessive drinking, the excited energy of the place. Hell, Cece even enjoyed a good bar fight every now and again. She had convinced Winn to go out with her for the night, ensuring him that it was totally his responsibility to pay for the drinks. 

They met up outside of Dell’s. “Looking good, Runaway. I think ditching town gave you some street cred. You’re really nailing that Ponyboy look.” She patted his shoulder endearingly and opened the door into the bar. “How many drinks do you need to tell me about that whole shitshow?”

The only use Winn had for baseball was for metaphors, and even then, they were all played out. But everyone up north crowded around for Sox games, and Winn felt an obligation to go out and mingle (though, really, Cece didn’t have to convince him to drink). Ponyboy? “Took you more for a cowboy gal, Cec. But we’ll find you a nice ponyboy. Ain’t gonna be me, but don’t you worry.” It occurred to Winn, belatedly, she might not be referring to that kind of ponyboy, but he’d take the L. She might get a laugh out of it.

As they walked into Dell’s — where Winn was half-sure he was gaining regular status despite his relative sobriety compared to the rest of the barflys — Winn caught sight of Adam in his element: flirting with a woman who was older than him. (Though, even queer as a three dollar bill as Winn was, he could admit Adam had taste.) “I can tell you ‘bout part of the shitshow,” he said to Cece, “but I think it’ll be much more fun to push ourselves into that shitshow.” Was he about to badly wingman a straight Hunter for a laugh? Absolutely. If Adam couldn’t stick a landing, he didn’t get to stick it in. “C’mon,” he said, hand pushing on Cece’s back as he guided them to the disaster-waiting-to-happen.

It was a long time since Camille had gotten much male attention. Being married to a guy like Jace didn’t exactly do wonders for your self esteem — she knew she wasn’t ugly, but feeling attractive and wanted was markedly different from just acknowledging that you had a pretty face. This kid who sidled up to her at the bar — and wasted absolutely no time letting his eyes wander from her face to her breasts — was what, mid twenties? Sharp jaw, muscular arms. The crude t-shirt was enough of a shock to her system to get her mouth working — almost. “Uh—” Eloquent. “Me? Yeah. I mean, I don’t— y’know, I don’t really follow baseball but it’s— Yeah. It’s good.”

Christ, thankgod his face was nothing like Jace’s, or she might have some heartbreaking flashback to their younger years. His smile had always taken up practically his whole face back then. Camille sipped her beer, trying to process what was happening — what, was he just overly friendly? There were plenty of hot young girls around to chat up. In fact another one just walked in. What was happening? “What about you?” 

Broad shoulders shrugged at the question as Adam’s face beamed in a faintly flushed sunbeam smile. “Happy, Horny, Healthy, the usual,” he assured Camile, before putting one arm on the bar and leaning forward toward her a little. “Hey… so babe,” the young man’s smile and tone softened into a manner of conspiratorial intimacy. Adam’s bottom lip brushed against his upper teeth speculatively as his dark jasper eyes submerged below Camile’s neckline before eventually raising to meet her gaze again. “Maybe you’d be up for…”

“Yo Winn! Oui disaster nipples! Over here! 

The moment was broken instantly as Adam caught sight of someone he knew from the crowd, the footballer’s free arm waving insistently to catch the newcomers attention across the crowd.

“First off, I don’t think you and I are on the same page about Ponyboy at all.” Cece squinted, not sure she even wanted to know at this point. Not until she had more alcohol in her. “Second, I’m equal opportunity. People are lining the streets to get to me. I’m just disinterested.” With a shrug, she eyed the pair across the bar that she assumed Winn was pointing too. “You’re totally changing the subject. But why is Prom King flirting with that grown-ass woman? I’m guessing you know one of them?” As if on cue, the boy started waving his arms in their direction. Bingo. Of course Winn knew the hot jock. 

Cece pushed through the crowd to get to the two, eyeing the both of them suspiciously as she got up to them. She had no idea who either of them were, but was trying to assess the situation here. Did the woman need an out or was she welcoming of the company sidled up next to her? Cece offered a knowing smile to the woman before turning towards the guy. “Excuse me, sir. Don’t you have a science lab or high school playoffs coming up? Can I see some ID?”

“Yeah, I know him. But ixnay on the eavinglay ‘round him, alright? Promise I’ll tell you later,” Winn said. Given Adam’s attempted distance, Winn was almost surprised to see the other man wave. Delighted, but surprised. He sidled in next the other man, wrapping a loose arm around Adam’s shoulder and giving him a shake. Winn spoke loudly, turning the charm and cheese up to their maximum. “Aw, c’mon, Cece. Can’t you see he knows what he’s doin’? He’s shootin’ his shot! And who knows, maybe this lovely lady across from me digs the,” he snorted, remembering Adam’s own term for him that first night, “fuckable boybander vibe.” 

“Winn Woods,” he said, reaching around and in front of Adam to the woman to offer his hand for a shake. “I’m Adam’s gay best,” werewolf, “friend. I can tell you all sorts of,” fake, “secrets about the guy, before you make your decision. And if you pour your drink in his lap, I’ll be there like a real bro to towel him off.” He smirked, winking from behind Adam’s sight at Cece and the other woman. “And Cece, babe, I know you don’t know sports, but playoffs would’ve been, like, a month ago or more.” 

Oh god, that smile. That was Jace all over. The sight of it had made Camille melt, once upon a time. Admittedly it was not ineffective now, she felt her own lips curling up at the corners in a reciprocal smile. She blinked, surprised by the statement — he was… horny? Did people just admit to that these days? What was she meant to say? Luckily, there wasn’t much time for her to worry about what kind of response to offer because he barrelled forward, and she didn’t lean back when he leaned forward.

Would it be so terrible? To flirt a little with some handsome fool at a bar? Now that would really piss Jace off. She wanted to know what she might be up for. Again, though, her chances were dashed when he noticed a couple of friends. Camille shot the woman a wide eyed but bemused glance, trying and failing to stifle a laugh at her quip. He was young, of course, though to Camille the girl did not look much older, and neither did the other man. “Fuckable boybander vibe,” she repeated as she shook Winn’s hand, amused by how accurate of a descriptor it was. 

Very quickly she had all their names — how useful — and almost entirely forgot to introduce herself, lost in trying to keep up with everything Winn was saying. “Camilla W— uh—” Actually, yeah, she didn’t want to stick with Watkins. “Dugar.” Better. She could say Watkins had been her married name, if pressed. “Nice to meet you. All. Not the worst vibe, for the record.” She shot Adam a quick grin, really having no idea what else to do — very out of practice with the flirting. “I can — sorry, if you guys came to hang out I can go sit somewhere else, I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Sure.” Adam made reaching around behind to his back pocket into an excuse to brush an arm close to Camille. He retrieved his wallet and held it out for Cece’s pursal, the contents indicating that he’d turned twenty two on this past January 14th. “I’m legal,” he said absently while leaning forward with his I.D into a none-too-subtle pretense to give the blonde bombshell a once over...and then a second over...and around the third over seeming to remember that evolved homo-sapiens engaged in conversation sometimes. “But if you still want to drag me outta here, rough me up a bit…” He looked up into Cece’s green eyes with a submissive puppyish expression. “Definitely wouldn’t complain.” 

The hunter let out a long whistle at Winn’s statements, the bird-song lilt hinting at a life spent outdoors. “Towelin’ me off...” Adam replied in a thickly affected Tennessee drawl, “when y’ talk all hot and purty like that Mr. Lee,” he continued with a soft playful punch at the man-hip now blocking his way to the ladies. “... why, it nearly flips me ass-up.” 

However Camile’s protestation snapped Adam out of the banter. “Woah, woah Camilla.” He leaned back with both elbows behind him on the bar, craning his neck past Winn. “You’re the star of this party. You been in White Crest long?” 

Ah, the elusive bromance. A tale as old as time and a relationship with weirdly sexual undertones. Cece loved a good bromance. Winn cozied up in the chair next to Adam while Cece still stood between Camille and Adam’s seats. She had to admit, Adam at least had the charming thing going for him. Cece couldn’t decide between rolling her eyes at the dude or flirting with him. “You’re cute.” Cece reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Make sure to treat me right in your dreams.” 

Apparently, Camille got the wrong idea that the three of them had come to hang out. “I agree with Troy Bolton here. We’re all in this together now. It wouldn’t be any fun without you.” She assured Camille that Adam was right and she should stay with the group. 

Confident that he was alright, Cece found the stool next to Camille and flagged down the bartender. She ordered beer for herself, pointing at the others. “Put in your orders. First round’s on pretty boy over there. Well, the farthest pretty boy,” she said, pointing past Adam at Winn. 

“Mmm, awright, sweetheart,” Winn grumbled, jokingly, into Adam’s ear, letting out an exaggerated groan when the other man ‘punched’ him. He had to admit he was mildly impressed at Adam’s quick turn from joking to… well, about as genuine as Winn was sure the boy could be in public. As Adam tipped his head back, Winn plucked the hat off of his head, throwing it, backwards, onto his own sweep of hair, ruffling Adam’s affectionately. Gotta give the boy a little more tousle if he was hopin’ to impress two women in front of him.

“They’re right,” he said, evenly. “We didn’t come here for this mess,” meaning Adam, “we came here for this mess.” He threw a thumb back at the taps. “And as my darling Cece has pointed out, I’m buyin’. Owe her, taken some of Adam’s for free… and haven’t seen you ‘round these parts, so I figure I’m payin’ it forward.” 

When Cece got the bartender, Winn rolled his eyes. “Beer, Cec? And here I thought you were a classy woman.” Then again, Winn told the bartender to get him ‘whatever,’ so he wasn’t picky or nothin’. Turning his attention to Camille, he smiled, “Picked a wild time to come into town, if you’re new here. I’d promise that the ocean wasn’t always black, but… that would imply that somethin’ wasn’t usually going down. And that,” he said, laughing, “would be the biggest lie I ever told.”

Camille was really having to focus to keep up. Three people was not really a crowd but it felt like it to her, especially with them all chattering away and asking questions. The way they all bounced off each-other made her miss her old friends. By the time she’d died Camille hadn’t really been close with anyone- trying to keep your crumbling marriage a secret could have that effect- but there were a few people from work she’d had this kind of easy back and forth with. She was unsurprised when Adam blatantly checked out the other girl of the group- that was young guys for you, attention span of a goldfish- and she was sure whatever appeal she might’ve held moments ago was now forgotten.

Still if they wanted here to stay… Well, there was no harm right? They were young and loud and here to drink and probably weren’t going to ask anything too invasive. She’d come here to have fun, a group would probably help with that. And more beer definitely would. Camille shuddered at the mention of the black ocean, “um, I’ll just have another one of these.” She told the bartender, lifting up her near empty bottle and draining the last of it. “Got here just over a month ago actually, in the midst of all that mad stuff with the, uh, mimes.” 

God this place was fucking nuts. “Grew up in Bangor though, so I was always hearing crazy stories.” Now she was one of them, she supposed. “Didn’t expect eyeballs out of my damn taps though, I gotta say that one really threw me.” 

“Yeah, fish eyes are used as bait a lot,” Adam said in an amiable baritone that could convey steady normalcy even if a very building they sat in was engulfed in flame. “They do it all the time in Cook’s Bay,” he claimed while making an order of his own. “Fucking crazy that a bunch of bait would get yeeted into the harbor same time as the big oil spill, its friggen Deep Water Horizon all over again. Hope all the fishing crews get compensated once a lawsuit gets through y’know?” 

Like many Hunters, Adam was charged with the preservation of the supernatural world’s secrecy, a delicate balance between making sure that humans were safe from supernatural threats and ensuring that paranormal communities were safe from the witch hunts and hysteria of ages past. A lifetime of assuring people that everything was perfectly normal even as Spawn rampaged through graveyards, churning rips in space-time disgorged eldritch horrors, and children went ‘missing’ in Trow dens had cultivated a warm soothing mien that invited everyone else around him to buy into the banal lie. 

Everything was fine. What a terrible oil spill. Wolves can’t be people. That’s crazy! 

“What made you decide to come to White Crest, Camilla?” 

Either Adam was crazy off his ass or he was purposefully moving away from the conversation of the eyeballs. With Camille’s back turned to her, Cece shot Winn a suspicious glance as if to convery, Who is this dude? He did a pretty good job trying to normalize the whole eyeballs coming out of water pipes though, so if nothing else he was either good at making up falsehoods or way too invested in explaining the supernatural away. 

“How does anyone end up in White Crest?” Cece interjected, accepting her drink from the bartender and taking a gulp of it before continuing, “A bit of bad luck and a dash of poor decision making.” Cece flipped Winn off, “For the record this beer was on special tonight. That’s hella classy.”

“You’d have to be on somethin’ to take that case,” Winn grumbled, and then, because it probably was a smart idea to lie to Camille, “I’m sure the fishers will fight the town for lettin’ off-shore drilling go on like that.” Winn reached around Adam as Camille’s eyes were on the game for a moment and twirled his finger at Cece, an implicit Just go with it. Regardless of the hard-to-explainability of White Crest this week, they couldn’t really lead with “Hi, we’re a witch, a werewolf, and a Hunter, how’re you today?”

“Don’t have to go on the cheap just ‘cause I’m paying, y’all, by all means break the bank.” There was a part of Winn that hated flashing money around, but that part was easily combated by the part of him that hated drinking cheap shit. And the beer on special was cheap shit. He tilted his head at Cece for a moment, considering, and ordered her another drink, something nicer (and, frankly, more alcoholic).

Fish eyes. Right. Camille sighed, aiming an annoyed glance at the sigil on the back of her hand. There was a time when she’d have rationalized it away like that, too. But then she’d come back from the dead and it was hard to ignore that the world was full of strange and terrifying things like re-animated corpses and whatever problem had eyeballs coming out of taps. Maybe their cluelessness was a good thing, she needed some normal in her life. “Right, fish eyes. No wonder it stinks so bad, crazy.”

She nearly choked on the first sip of her new drink when Cece made her comment, grabbing for a napkin to cover her mouth while she cleared her throat and recovered. “I hope not too much poor decision making. I—suddenly needed a new place, but I didn’t want it to be in Bangor because that felt like a step back.” Camille twisted the napkin up in her hands, but despite the tension to her body there was a smile on her face, “I just left my husband.” It was the first time she’d said that out loud, and even if the way they’d take the statement—a divorce—wasn’t totally right, it was close enough. 

A plate of ribs was set down in-front of her and she laughed a little, remembering why she’d come here in the first place. “Ribs, beer, and sports were three of his favorite things. I saw that this place was showing the game and figured I’d come here to spite him.”

“So you're free...niiiice,” was apparently Adam’s sole take away from Camille’s confession. His dark eyes followed the banter between Cece and Winn, letting the resident werewolf dude reach around him to make some random gesture. Winn made a twirling motion at Cece, which Adam didn’t understand the context of. 

Nevertheless, while Winn was doing that, Adam made his own addendum of sticking a finger in his mouth in slow suggestive rhythms for Cece’s edification, before gesturing with his head towards Winn and Camille before making the fingers of one hand frantically hump the other fist. This was concluded with the footballer making a heart to Cece, followed by two thumbs up. 

Confident that this pantomimed proposal of a foursome definitely helped whatever Winn had been trying to say, Adam turned his attention back to Camille as her food arrived. 

“I dunno, poor decisions can be... fun sometimes,” assured Adam with an innocent choirboy smile as he made progress on the drink that’d arrived for him. 

Clearly, Winn wanted Cece to roll with the mundane excuse. She wasn’t going to fight it. She had moved here for a regular life after all. That had all gone to hell in a prada purse about a month into it, but the idea had really been pure. She didn’t plan on ruining that for anyone else. Especially someone as seemingly innocent as Camille. The poor girl had no idea what she had gotten wrapped up in. Winn, Cece, and assumingly Adam weren’t crazy in the supernatural sense, but in a bar? Havoc could ensue. And Camille seemed to not only be caught in the middle of it, but had the spotlight shown down on her. 

Cece stared back at Adam as he… what the hell was he doing? Fingering his mouth? Cece held a confused look on her face before returning the gesture, using her middle finger in its place. He finished off with suggesting a foursome between the group. Admittedly, the company around was pretty attractive. Cece wasn’t denying Adam’s looks, the dude was hella hot. She was even starting to warm up to the guy. Definitely didn’t mean she planned on sleeping with him. “I think I like you Adam, just haven’t decided why yet.”

“Leaving your husband is just about the smartest reason I’ve ever heard someone move to White Crest for and I will drink to that.” The bartender dropped off the second drink that Winn had ordered for her and she winked over at Winn in appreciation, “Thanks babe! In fact, I'll double drink to that.” She raised both glasses and took turns taking a large drink from each. “Well, we need the ribs, then. If we’re going to do this right and really stick it to him.”

Winn listened with a counselor’s patience to Camille’s reasons for moving to White Crest. Something, maybe the way Camille was holding herself, made Winn cock his head. Her heart wasn’t beating faster — at least, not more than could be explained by proximity to Adam’s… everything. And speaking of Adam…

What was he doing? Winn wouldn’t deny mild interest in the way Adam’s mouth wrapped around a finger, and Winn wasn’t… opposed to sleeping outside of his usual range? So long as someone was fucking him with something, he could get off to a blank piece of paper if he tried hard enough. He smirked, rolling his eyes in Cece’s direction as she flipped him off. Good for her. Adam could use the blow to his ego, even if Winn was still half-sure part of his bravado was fake as hell.

But back to the more important company, “I agree with Cece. You’ve got a head start on us, Cam — is it alright if I call you Cam? Before you make any poor decisions, you’ve got to let us help you make a poor decision!” Wait, no. Adam would get the wrong idea. “Buyin’ you a lot of ribs, I mean.”

There was, admittedly, something almost attractive about the crude gestures Adam was making. In a college frat boy sense. He was hot enough to get away with doing stupid stuff. Camille exchanged glances with Winn and Cece. “I know I’ve been out of the loop for a while, but am I supposed to understand what he’s trying to say with all the-” She imitated one ofthe gestures poorly, and that was enough to snap the pieces together in her head. “Oh! Oh- yeah. No, yeah. I get it now. Wow- that’s- hm.”  She shook her head, dispelling the notion entirely. She hadn’t had sex in years, and it’d certainly never been that freaky. “I think I need to warm up a bit before making a decision that poor.”

She slid the plate of ribs a little ways along the bar so the others could grab one if they wanted, “uh- yeah. Cam is fine.” It was closer to her own name, in fairness. She laughed, raising a rib in a mock cheers, “well then, to my ex husband being miserable forever, and making poor decisions.” She gulped down a little beer then took a bite from the rib, grinning.

Adam raised his glass high and let out a loud woop that drew a few glances before the gaming-watching bustle returned to its collective inertia. “To Cam! May her ex get ulcers that make him piss blood in loneliness and may she forget his prick-ass forever!” With that merry invocation of divine justice, Adam added yet more alcohol to his system. 

“So,” Adam pointed to Cece and Winn with his free-hand, purposefully choosing to spare Cam the spotlight for a little bit. “What’ve you crazy hot kids been up to?” 

Cece liked this group, and it totally wasn’t just because of the beer and ribs. Well, it totally wasn’t any more than like half because of the beer and ribs. Camille led the charge, stealing Cece’s heart with an impromptu cheers using her ribs. Damn, Cece loved a good emotional cheers. Adam chimed in with his own addition to the roasting of Camille’s douche of an ex. “Dark, dude. I can drink to that.” Cece grinned, raising one of her glasses and finishing off the beer. She slid the empty glass across the bar and found the drink Winn had ordered for her as a chaser. “Get too into defamation and we may end up hexing the dude.” And if Camille gave Cece anymore reason to, then those hexes may just end up ringing true. 

“Winn here was just taking me out for a night on the town. He owes me.” The two hadn’t really discussed how Winn owed her exactly. The conversation about her tracking his whereabouts hadn’t naturally come up in conversation. “I make him pay a membership fee for my friendship.”

Winn nearly choked on his drink at Adam’s toast, masking his laughter by raising his glass to the rest of the group’s. “Hear, ah, hear?” he tried, voice coming out hoarse from the liquor burning at his throat. He shot Cece a glance that he hoped communicated ‘Don’t hex anybody without Cam’s permission.’ Though, given she was already on her second drink, he figured it would be forgotten by the time it came to actually hex the prick. (If hexes were, like, a real thing?)

“I definitely owe her,” he agreed, rolling his eyes at Adam’s ‘crazy hot kids’ comment. They were both older than him. Like, definitely more emotionally evolved. No matter Winn’s suspicions about Adam’s whole… deal. “I’m truly lucky for her friendship. I need the good karma that pickin’ her drunk ass off the floor nets me.” He gulped down more of his drink, winking across at Cece. “And don’t y’all have, like, a giant television at the house?” he said, nudging Adam. “Your moose brothers not want to watch the Sox? Too busy puttin’ up their socks on doorknobs?” This time, his wink was directed at Cam.

Though it was again a little more crude than the sort of company Camille was used to, she had to say she did not take any issue with Adam’s toast, going as far as to clink her own beer bottle against his before taking a swig. If only she could forget him, wouldn’t that be nice. Her gaze shot to Cece when she mentioned hexing, wondering if she actually meant it, if Cam wasn’t the only one here who knew about the weird supernatural side to White Crest. She even opened her mouth to ask, and then realized they were probably in mixed company and she didn’t want to come off as crazy, so just took another bite out of the rib in her hand.

Perhaps if she got the girl alone some time she could ask about it. In the bathroom or something, girls went to the bathroom in groups right? Yeah. “Oh god, socks on doorknobs?” Camille laughed, shaking her head. “People still really do that? I miss college.” Jace had done the whole frat thing of course, and she’d been in a sorority too, she could remember how damn near impossible it was to get time alone together. “That’s why you came here all on your lonesome, huh?” She teased, nudging Adam’s arm, “got something to prove to your frat pals.” 

“Yes we still do that,” assured the guy who lived in a house where socks and kinds of things were put on various types of knobs. “And I’m with a client actually,” Adam protested at Winn and Camille’s insinuations of being a randy stag goodnaturedly. “I’m here if they needs me,” 

Adam nodded to a figure seated directly across the bar from him on a couch. The ‘client’ was dressed in a full jacket with gloves, hood, hat, and sunglasses despite the heat, no skin showing. Gloved fingers, six on each hand, drummed absently on the client’s knees as their gaze drifted across the crowd in the manner of someone overwhelmed but nevertheless content to observe the jovial chaos in silence. 

“But at sundown I can be with whoever wants me,” Adam noted with a smirk to Camille before purposefully diverting the conversation away from his client. “So, you’re here now. Found work yet?” 

Two drinks in and Cece wasn’t mad about the company she had found herself in tonight. She wanted to argue Winn’s point about her drunk ass, but considering they met when he helped get her drunk ass home one night, she decided against it. Clearly he wasn’t letting her live that one down anytime soon. At least until Cece returned the favor. Problem was, she never turned down a drink. She may not leave the place stumbling off her ass but she was rarely sober enough to be the responsible one in a group. 

Adam had clients, huh? Cece could only assume it was a sex thing. At least until Adam pointed the client out and Cece shot them a strange look, “Hmm. That’s a weird kink.” She muttered. She caught that bartender’s attention and tapped at her empty glass, smiling when he nodded his confirmation that he had received the message. “I dig the whole serial killer vibes they put off. Very Jack the Ripper.” Cece took a drink from her new glass and listened as Cam dished more details about her life.

Client? Winn looked at the figure Adam had nodded to, considering the other man’s word choice. Sundown. In the loud thrum of the bar, it was hard to hear whether or not the client had a heartbeat, if Adam was helping out someone in the way he’d helped Lucas. For all the younger man talked about conflicts of interest, he had… far more supernatural friends than particular enemies, Winn felt. But now wasn’t the time to argue with Adam over his calling in life — especially not in public. Adam hadn’t talked to Cam for any reason other than his babe senses, Winn was sure. Otherwise, why would he have attempted to cover up the town’s… weirdness.

Cece was already on her third drink, so Winn felt he had to up the ante. Neither of them were driving home, right? Unlike the night they’d met, Winn could, you know, call a damn Uber. He motioned the bartender as he came back with Cece’s next drink, mumbling “Strong.” with a wink to the, admittedly pretty, man. Was Winn (probably) hanging out with a bunch of straight folks? Yes. Did that mean he couldn’t distract himself from the whole… Noah situation? Absolutely not.

Okay, Camille had a hell of a lot of questions about that client. Not that she had any right to ask them, or really any desire to know the answers — there was probably nothing good to be said about a guy dressed like that. Who kept their gloves on inside? Well, people who wanted to hide their hands. She tugged at the sleeve of her shirt to tug it down over that ugly sigil, and wondered if she should become a gloves person too. She hadn’t been here long, so it wouldn't be hard to establish them as part of her style. Cam forgot about the guy happily enough when Adam diverted attention back to her. “So the spell is broken at midnight? Would that make you Cinderella or the fairy godmother?” she teased, taking a drink. “Day manager at that theme park. Cryptic— no, Cryptid Corner.” Cam shrugged. “Not exactly the dream, but it pays better than being a shop assistant or something. I mean I just got it and I’m still on, like, a trial period, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. What about you two?” She gestured towards Cece and Winn. “Now that we know Adam works as a full time weirdo watcher.”

“They’re from outta town,” was the only detail Adam supplied in explanation of his client’s nature to those gathered. He definitely wasn’t inclined to explain just how much of an understatement that was. But thus far the “guest” to this dimension had abided by the deal to not absorb anyone’s biomass, which was mean that Adam could spend his evening flirting and generally get his boorish man-child act on instead of lowering White Crest’s tourist cred by filling a sightseer full of holes. 

“I mean… I can put on slippers and wings if that’s what you’re into,” he assured Camille with an easy smile. “Cryptid Corner… Is that the one with the mothman and all that?” he asked before the questions turned to Cece and Winn.

“I’d actually be quite interested in you in slippers and wings.” Cece shrugged, taking a drink from her ridiculously strong drink. She knew she had Winn to blame for that. But as long as she didn’t have to drive home tonight, she didn’t really care how much she drank. “Yeah, I think so. Supposed to have all those weird attractions. I think I talked to the owner of that place once.” Cece remembered chatting about the amusement park. It seemed like her scene, terrifying and exhilarating. Though she hadn’t had the chance to get out there yet. “Guess I’ll really have to check it out now that I have a friend that works there.”

“I work for the Medical Examiner’s office.” Cece explained, “I’m a toxicologist. Which is just a fancy word to say that I test urine and blood I collect from dead people.” Cece joked. She turned to Winn, suddenly realizing that she didn’t actually know what the hell he did. Aside from modeling in a past life.  

“There’s an amusement park in town?” Winn said, wondering aloud. “Jeez, for Smalltown, USA, this place sure does have everythin’.” Weird attractions? Weird for White Crest? Christ, what kind of horror show was Cam working at?

“Oh, me?” Well, this was awkward. What did he do? Oh Christ, did Winn have hobbies? Friends that weren’t werewolves or… well, Hunters? “Um, it’s the off-season, but I coach the high school team. For hockey.” He scrambled through his brain, searching for something, anything. “I modeled?” Wait, shit, not that. “Um, in Europe mostly.” Worse, somehow. Winn could almost feel the smirks building on Adam and Cece’s faces. “I got kicked out of school today, so I’m, uh, a bit… loose, with the job-slash-life-thing, right now.” He downed his entire drink in one gulp, gesturing to the bartender to get him another drink, now. Please.

“Only if you can actually wave a magic wand and change my life.” Camille muttered in response to Adam’s quip, swivelling a little on her stool to order another beer. She should be careful really, because she didn’t know this guy and her tolerance wasn’t what it had been in college. But screw it. If anyone could go through what she had and not crave being a little bit drunk, then they were probably nuts to begin with. “Yeah.” She perked up again with a new bottle in her hand. “Yeah, mothman and all that shit, terrible uniforms. Don’t get too hyped up about visiting, it’s nothing special.”

Dead people? Ah, shit. “So do you, uh— do you know Regan?” She toyed nervously with a lock of hair, hoping to god this wasn’t some strange set up because the doctor had spilled her secrets. She didn’t seem like the gossip type, but still. “I— met her. While I was out for a walk a few days ago.” That was fine, this was a small town, people were friendly enough to introduce themselves. Kicked out of school? Camille’s concerned teacher instinct kicked in, and she leaned across a little to get a better look at Winn. He didn’t seem lazy or like a troublemaker or anything — true her expertise was in much younger kids, but there might still be something she could do. “What happened? Did they give you a fair chance before kicking you out? Temporary expulsions? Reports, guidance counselor?” 

Resisting the urge to answer Camile’s quip with the insistence that his ‘wand’ was indeed magic and could change lives, Adam continued drinking but briefly frowned in thought at the mentions of a Medical Examiner led on into Regan being brought up. While it was always possible that this was a completely different ME office with a different Regan, Adam had a suspicion that this Dr. Regan Kavanagh, the world’s most confusing hunter-dating Banshee materialist.

Winn dropped the fact that he was a male model in Europe, causing Adam to decide that he wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough and order another drink. Sex-canyon V-line wolfmen coaching high school hockey like it was one of those sappy sports movies wasn’t something he wanted to process sober. 

Cece’s eyes narrowed towards Winn. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the college to her yet. Not enough alcohol yet, clearly. Luckily, Cam seemed to have asked the questions for the group. Not that Cece thought it was her business to get involved in Winn’s personal life. But she was a big fan of a little chaos every now and again. She could storm the campus and make a few heads spin. For funsies. 

“Oh, you met my boss then.” Cece smirked, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Bucket of fun isn’t she?” From the looks of it, more people knew about the Doc than Cece thought. Apparently, despite Cece’s assumptions, the woman was pretty popular in town. But if Regan referred to any of these people as a friend before breaking down and accepting Cece’s friendship Cece wears going to dive off a bridge. “I love that girl to death, but she takes life a bit too seriously for my tastes.” Cece followed suit with Winn, downing her new drink in one gulp and raising the empty glass towards him in triumph. “Hell yeah! That’s the kind of energy I’m looking for tonight! Guys, I think we’re going to have some fun.”

“I am not drunk enough to talk about Regan Kavanagh nor my educational drama,” Winn said in his smoothest, most honeyed voice. “And we’ve got all the time in the world for me to come clean. So long as you don’t clean out my wallet.” He winked, slapping Adam on the back again. “I’m sure the golden boy and I can show y’all ladies a nice time. Though not that nice, eh Adam?” He elbowed the other man, trying to direct the conversation off of him — and Regan for that matter.R

After all, he hadn’t spoken to Regan since they’d sent that CVS on 3rd to a hell dimension. The less Winn thought about that, the better. Oh yeah, he was going to get blasted tonight. He deserved it. No one was driving home, they were pissing off an Uber driver with four different locations, loud chatter, and absolutely no filter like God and Stonewall intended. He may be the only queer person here, tonight, but it was Pride Month and he knew how to work a party, even in the straightest possible place. First thing? “Bartender!” he called, loud and long and stupid, “I need, uhhhhh, a drink for every percentage point you want me to tip you.” Hell yeah. Time to get stupid.

[kittinoir]

Could I request a fic with the prompt “It's three in the morning.” for Ladrien please? Thanks!

Adrien had had this dream before, but it usually wasn’t this aggressive. In the dream, Ladybug somehow knew who he was and showed up in his room, so in love with him she couldn’t stand to keep her own identity a secret. It usually ended with kissing and getting woken up by Plagg complaining he was ‘talking in his sleep again’.

This time, instead of kissing, Ladybug was shaking him roughly by the shoulder and Plagg was no where in sight.

“I’m sorry, Adr - Mr. Agreste,” she murmured. “But we have to go.”

“Go?” Adrien repeated. Who the hell was Mr. Agreste? His father’s room as a whole other floor up. “It’s three in the morning.”

“There’s an akuma,” Ladybug explained. “I can tell you more later. Right now, we have to get out of here. She’s coming for you.”

Adrien was having a harder time than usual focusing with her face this close. “But I haven’t done anything.”

“I know,” Ladybug said with forced patience. A small crease appeared between her brows, which he knew meant she was nearing her wits end. It normally took three puns to get to that point. Apparently ‘Adrien’ was more vexing than Chat Noir, which was less comforting than he’d imagined it’d be.

But Ladybug’s words finally sunk in. Adrenaline dumped into his system, bringing him fully awake, his heart racing as he tried to reconcile what was happening. Ladybug was here to save him, because there was an akuma that was after him (again). She didn’t know he was Chat Noir, and he was wasting time while the akuma closed in.

“Maybe I can hide?” Adrien suggested as he climbed out of bed. He hated to imply that he might be afraid of the akuma to her, but duty came before love - much to his own chagrin.

“This place is too big,” Ladybug said, assessing the windows. “Not very defensible. Plus, it’s like a beacon; she’ll come straight here, just like I did. It’s better to get you some place - oh.”

Ladybug had stopped analyzing the defensive capabilities of his room and turned back around, stopping dead in her tracks upon coming face to face with his Ladybug pyjamas.

Had Plagg been near-by, Adrien would have cataclysmed himself. As it was, Adrien fought for the inner peace being a teenaged model had helped him hone over the years. Some looks were stunning. Other’s were not. And he had to pretend to like it either way. The pyjamas had been a prank, a joke Plagg had slipped into one of his camembert orders - except they were actually really comfortable. And they weren’t Gabriel brand, so really, the pros just kept out-weighing the cons.

At least until right now.

Model-calm was no where to be found as Ladybug’s gaze travelled from the tips of his toes all the way up to what Adrien could only imagine was an extremely red face. A thousand excuses jumped to mind, but he couldn’t sort them enough to get a single one out.

“Huh,” Ladybug said with a small laugh. “We match.”

He hadn’t thought it was possible to fall anymore in love with her, except that it kept happening. “I guess we do.”

“Ready to go then?”

Adrien nodded, following her to the window as Plagg disappeared into his pocket. He could go with her now, and as soon as she had him safely hidden, he could sneak off and transform. He’d done it before; tonight would be no different. It’d be fine. Super fine. He had this under control.

Ladybug abruptly wrapped an arm around him, pulling him tight to her side as her yo-yo arced for the rooftops. Adrien felt heat flare across his cheeks again as he automatically held on to her, and he was glad for the cool night air as they left his room. More than anything, he hoped she couldn’t feel his heart pounding through the thin material of his shirt.

“So, the akuma?” Adrien said over the wind as they swung through the streets. “What happened?” Wow, this was way less terrifying as Chat Noir.

“I…I can’t say too much,” Ladybug said carefully, “But…the reason I was able to come so fast is because the akuma may or may not have been a direct result of something I did.”

“Something you did?” Adrien repeated. Sure, he’d caused akuma’s before, but he couldn’t imagine her doing anything of this scale. 

“I kind of interrupted a rival of yours when she was trying to sabotage you for tomorrow’s Gabriel show during my patrol,” she said. “Veronique? Anyway, she’s on her way to end the competition once and for all.”

A thousand thoughts raced through Adrien’s mind, but only one mattered: the fashion week locations weren’t on their patrol route. And just as suddenly, he realized ‘Ladybug’ must not have been there as Ladybug - but her civilian self had been. And the only people still working this late were the models, designers, and his father.

“I can’t tell you more than that,” Ladybug said, oblivious to the bombs going off in Adrien’s head. “Too risky. But don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you, Mr. Agreste.”

Mr. Agreste. That suddenly made sense now - and excluded the models. To a designer, twenty five of which had been picked as up-and-comers to feature pieces in his fathers’ show, he would be ‘Mr. Agreste’. 

“Adrien,” he said, the only coherent thing he could manage right then. “You can just call me Adrien.”

“Adrien,” she repeated softly as they finally came to a stop. He realized belatedly they were on the Eiffel Tower, outside Gustav Eiffel’s office. An effective hiding place, if he’d ever needed one.

“Who’s dealing with the akuma right now if you’re here?” Adrien asked as Ladybug ushered him inside.

“Chat Noir has it under control,” Ladybug said. Adrien turned, ready to tell her that illusions must be part of the akuma’s powers - except she was biting her lip, meeting his eyes for a mere moment before glancing away. She’s lying, he realized. Why?

Because she came straight to me when this happened. Because concern for my safety came before anything else. Because the boy she likes is…

“I’ll be back soon, Adrien,” Ladybug said, backing towards the door. “You’ll be safe here. Bug out!”

And then she was gone, free-falling into the sea of lights the were the city streets. 

“You know, in thousands of years, you’re the only Chat Noir who’s mastered being in two places at once,” Plagg said as he slipped from Adrien’s pocket. “I mean, I always knew you were special, kid, but, wow.”

“Ha-ha,” Adrien said. “Very funny.”

“Well, aren’t we going?”

“In a second,” he said. “I want to let her get a bit more of a head start. The last thing we need is for Ladybug to see Chat Noir appear from the same office she just stashed Adrien in.”

And, if he was being perfectly honest, Adrien needed just a few more minutes to come to terms with the fact that Ladybug, the girl he was in love with, was someone he’d been working closely with for the past few weeks. Someone, he imagined, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from recognizing as soon as he let himself think about it. 

[janaikam]

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - Heroics

Day 2 of @luxyweek is here!

Part 1

Read on AO3

XY groaned as his XY bobblehead alarm clock blasted Paris, his latest single. Stretching his arm out, he attempted to turn it off, but he kept missing the bobblehead’s snooze button on its hair.

XY let out a sigh as he sat up on his bed, shutting off the alarm and looking at the time. 8:30.

He couldn’t think of any reason why he would set his alarm to such an early hour. Especially since it was a Saturday. It made no sense to him.

As his mind slowly became more awake, he remembered the blue-haired delivery boy from yesterday and how XY wanted to crash his charity concert today. It was something he didn’t want to miss cause he didn’t know when he would see the blue-haired wannabe again.

The concert was at 9:00, and if he wanted to have a chance to see Luka, he would have to try and get there early. Which meant XY needed to leave for Place des Vogues now. Jumping out of bed and into the bathroom, XY quickly threw on his signature outfit and gelled up his hair into its signature coif. Double checking that he looked presentable, XY grinned and finger gunned at his reflection.

It was gonna be a great day, he could feel it.

Satisfied with how he looked, XY walked out of his room and towards the elevator. The hallway was unusually quiet, causing him to tiptoe down the rest of the way. If people were being quiet then there had to be a good reason. Maybe there was a ghost, or maybe there was an axe murderer on the loose.

All he knew is that he wanted out of the hallway and fast. Thankfully, the elevator was there when he pressed the down button. The doors opened, revealing his father.

Great, someone he did NOT want to deal with this early in the morning.

“XY! My boy!” his father said as XY joined him on the elevator. Bob Roth put his arm around XY’s shoulder and pulled him close. “I have some amazing plans for your career. We’re gonna hit the studio so it looks like you’re making music to shoo away those nasty rumors, and then we’ll find some interviews for you to do. It’s gonna be great publicity!”

XY nodded. “That sounds gucci. But I’m actually going to see some bands perform in the park today. Hopefully, I’ll find some inspiration.” He winked for emphasis. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but who knew what his little trip might bring him.

“Great! We’ll get on this publicity stuff some other time! Have fun finding ‘inspiration’.” The elevator doors opened, revealing the lobby of Le Grand Paris. “Take some good videos!”

XY shook off the weird feeling that he always felt after having a conversation with his dad and continued his walk to the park. The walk itself wasn’t very long, but finding the place where they were having the concert took a while.

It turned out that they rented out a small corner of the park and had formed a makeshift gate around the tiny performance area.

There were two girls manning the gate entrance. A light-skinned girl with bluish looking hair and a darker-skinned girl with red ombre colored hair. They appeared to be collecting money from people as they walked in. XY didn’t really understand why, but charity concerts were weird.

XY checked his jacket pocket for any cash he had on him. While the two girls would likely let him in without any problem, it would probably be best if he didn’t cause a scene. He didn’t know what paparazzi would be around.

Perhaps they might think he was being generous by giving the girls money.

He found a wad of cash in his pocket that looked to be about 420 U.S. dollars. He guessed that it was from his last tour in the United States. It didn’t really matter because it was still a lot of money, and those girls would appreciate it anyways.

As he got closer, XY noticed that their faces seemed to become a bit more closed off once they noticed him approaching. Assuming they were just nervous fans, he strode right up to them and dropped the wad of cash on the table. The girls were frozen, clearly not having expected the donation. XY smiled, proud of himself. Those girls would totally buy his next album.

“Keep the change,” he told them, winking.

He made his way to the front of the stage to try and get backstage, but the second he saw the large bodyguard at the backstage entrance, XY turned back to the crowd gathering around the stage.

He wasn’t ready to confront a bodyguard after his last encounter.

Pushing his way to the front of the stage, XY stole a spot right near the front so he would have a great spot to watch the band. He barely had any time to question why he would want a spot near the front before the band came out a minute later.

A girl in all pink walked up to the microphone set up at the front of the stage while the rest got settled in their positions. XY spotted Luka standing to the right of the pink girl.

“Thank you all for showing up today! It means so much to us and the animals at the shelter!” the girl said. “We have a few songs to sing for you today so-”

An obnoxious cackling from above interrupted whatever the girl was going to say. Looking up to where the cackling was coming from, XY saw that a brightly colored woman was floating in the sky.

Her hair was moving in all different directions. She had a belt of hair sprays around her waist and a long flowy cape behind her. The woman’s face seemed to be angry, and XY wondered what the source of her anger was. He kinda felt bad for whoever it was.

“THERE YOU ARE YOU SELF LOVING PRICK!!! YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HAIR PRODUCTS FOR THE LAST TIME!!!” the floating woman yelled, pointing straight towards him. She reached for one of the many cans around her waist and aimed it straight at him.

At this point, most of the crowd around him had run away, too scared to be associated with the rock star. Jerks.

Instead of running away like everyone else, XY simply moved closer to the front of the stage, ignoring the akuma’s rant. He wanted to see a concert, and an akuma wasn’t going to stop him.

Honestly if XY got hit, then it would be the heroes’ fault for not saving him. If they wouldn’t do their jobs then who would?

Right as he got to the front of the stage, Luka dived straight on top of him. Barely a second later there was a blast right where XY had been standing.

He belatedly realized that Luka had acted as a ‘hero’ and saved him. XY crossed his arms in frustration. He didn’t need some wannabe hero risking his life to try and save him. XY could risk his own life all on his own. Luka had no reason to try and save him.

XY huffed as Luka dragged him up off the ground and out of the park. He followed only because he wanted to give the wannabe a piece of his mind.

Luka dragged him towards some alleyway behind a group of buildings outside the park. The akuma was still following them, landing hits on anyone who had the misfortune of being in her path.

The people who were hit turned into puffs of colored air. Based on the smell of the air, XY could tell that it was hairspray and not good hairspray at that.

The alleyway twisted around and they got pretty far, but unfortunately, it led to a dead end. Luka turned back towards the path they came down, only to stop in his tracks as the akuma appeared, blocking their path.

“Finally, I have you right where I want you,” the akuma said. She stepped closer to the two of them, and Luka pushed XY behind him, standing protectively in front of XY.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me.”

The akuma chuckled. “Aw, you need your little boyfriend to save you,” she teased. “In that case, I guess I’ll just have to get you both.”

A yo-yo shot out from a nearby roof, wrapping itself around the akuma’s wrist effectively stopping her from spraying her can. “Nice try Hairspray!”

On the roof, Ladybug had a tight grip on her yo-yo as Chat Noir landed right next to her, examining the situation. “Looks like someone is having a bad hair day.”

Everyone in the alley, including the akuma, groaned at the pun. It was really bad, what was Chat Noir even thinking?

A purple butterfly flashed across the akuma’s face and quickly disappeared. With a new determination, Hairspray yanked on Ladybug’s yo-yo, causing her to fall into the alley.

Taking advantage of Ladybug’s now vulnerable state, Hairspray whipped out her cans and started shooting at her. Ladybug quickly recovered and used her yo-yo as a shield to protect XY and Luka.

Chat Noir dropped down behind XY, startling him. “Grab onto me. I’m gonna get you two to safety.”

Luka moved and grabbed onto one of Chat’s arms. Chat reached out his other arm to XY, and the singer reluctantly took it. Why did everybody have the need to save him today?

Though he had expected it, XY couldn’t help but scream when Chat Noir shot the three of them up into the air. Chat proceeded to jump across multiple roofs until they landed in an abandoned street.

“I’m never letting you save me again. I was in more danger than in that alley! I could have died!!” XY exclaimed, shooting his arms in the air.

Luka and Chat Noir shared a glance, almost as if they were communicating something through their eyes.

“You’re right. Jumping across the roofs was not safe. And you know you’re still not safe here.” Chat looked around for a second and spotted what he was looking for. Chat motioned for XY to follow. “Take this special portal, and you’ll immediately be transported to the safest place in Paris.”

Chat lifted up a sewer cover for XY to enter. “That looks like it goes to the sewers.”

“No, no, no, this is a special portal. My miraculous magic has transformed this sewer into a portal. All you have to do is go through it,” Chat reassured, a friendly smile on his face.

XY shrugged, believing the hero because why would he lie? He started his climb into the portal only to lose his grip and fall straight into sewer water.

“HEY!! THIS IS JUST A SEWER!!!”

[rhinozilla]

Whumptober Day 31: Embrace

Summary: Connor thought he had made peace with his negative status among all androids in Detroit, but this…he never expected this kind of positive reaction.

--

“I don’t think that’s him.”

“Of course it’s him!”

“Still…I don’t think…it’d be appropriate…”

“What? Why not? He’s just standing there. Go talk to him!”

“No! Just forget it…It’ll be weird. Besides, I think he’s busy.”

“Doing what? Watching a dog roll in a pile of leaves?”

Up until that point, Connor had dismissed the voices behind him as just another trio of friends chatting amongst themselves, as he’d observed other groups do in the park on sunny days like this. While Hank had assured him that humans regularly did ‘people watching’ in places like parks and public spaces, as a harmless way to spend some idle time, Connor was sure that did not extend to eavesdropping, and so most of the time, he simply let the auditory information go ‘in one ear and out the other’ as he’d heard it phrased.

But…as he stood there waiting for Sumo to finish rolling side to side on his back in the modest pile of leaves, he had to abruptly face the fact that the strangers behind him were talking about him specifically. Unconsciously, he straightened his posture and tried to feign ignorance at what they were doing. A background program in his software kicked up his stress levels and immediately ran vocal recognition on the voices.

Three distinct voices, all android, all different models: a VH500, an AX400, and a WR400.

His software did not find any vocal tones suggesting anger or any other threatening tone that should have alerted him to a potential danger, but he was hesitant to let his guard down.

“Ah shit, I think he heard us,” whispered the WR400.

“Hey, are you Connor?” the voice of the AX400 loudly asked.

“Whaaat are you doing?!” the VH500 said, and Connor turned to face them just in time to see her smack the AX400 on the arm for her brazenness.

“Yes,” he responded cautiously, looking at all three of them.

“There,” the AX400 said, gesturing toward him and looking at her VH500 friend. “Mystery solved.” Then, she faced Connor. “Sorry. I’m Delta. This is August, and the weirdo on the end is Jody.”

August, the WR400, gave a little wave. The VH500, Jody, only looked at him briefly before staring instead at the sidewalk and looking like she’d prefer to sink into it.

“Hello?” he asked, shifting his hold on Sumo’s leash. “Can I help you with something?”

He had occasionally had people approach and ask to pet Sumo while he was walking him in this park, but he got the feeling that wasn’t what these three wanted from him. Unease didn’t come across his processors however, and that in itself left him unsettled. What did they want with him?

August and Delta pointedly looked at Jody, who continued to stare at the sidewalk instead, and Delta almost immediately ran out of patience, rolling her eyes and looking to Connor again.

“Jody thought she recognized you and wanted to say hello. She—Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jody, I’m not a ventriloquist here!”

Jody glared at her two friends and then awkwardly tucked her hair behind her ears, finally looking at Connor. He tilted his head and tried to relax his posture to appear more approachable to the visibly anxious android.

“Hi,” she managed, taking a step away from her friends toward him. “I’m sorry. This—I didn’t want to bother you.” Her fingers were pulling the edges of her sleeves down over her hands, fidgeting with the ends in her palms. “B-But here we are…bothering you anyway.”

“I’m not bothered,” he stated. “But I am confused.”

Delta snorted, and August bit her lip to avoid doing the same. Jody glared back at them.

“Can you two just…shoo for a second? Jesus.”

Delta and August raised their hands in surrender, backing away and out of earshot, resuming chattering between themselves. Jody fiddled with her hair behind her ears again, taking another shy step toward Connor.

“You don’t…No, you don’t remember me, and that’s—fine, there’s no reason you would—“ she stammered. “But I was…um…I was there, in the tower—Cyber…in Cyberlife Tower, I was there…in, uh, on one of those display stands on the ground floor…That night you, uh, did the—“

She made a vague gesture, and his software decoded her jumble of words into something logical. He blinked and inclined his head.

“You were at Cyberlife Tower the night of the revolution?”

Jody nodded, folding one arm around herself and letting the other swing absently at her side. “Yep. You, uh, you woke me up. Well, I mean, technically, you woke up somebody who woke up somebody who woke up…eventually the wave got around to me, but…I could still…feel you. Oh God, oh shit that sounded weird…I mean, I could feel…in the conversion…your influence on the whole deviancy process.” She grimaced. “I’m…fucking this up.”

“I might agree with you if I had any idea what you were trying to communicate,” he said teasingly.

Jody looked at him sharply, and when he raised his eyebrows with a grin, she visibly relaxed and smiled as well.

“I’m trying to communicate…gratitude. Thank you, that’s what I’m trying to say,” she said, letting out a heavy exhale as the words finally made it out. “I just saw you over here, and I remembered that night and…Things got so crazy after that, but I wanted…I’ve wanted to tell you that since then. So, thank you for waking me up and for freeing me.”

Connor wasn’t sure what to say to that. Sumo abruptly rolled from his back to his front, staying on his belly and wagging his tail. Jody and Connor both glanced at the dog, who let his tongue hang out of his mouth with a canine grin. Connor thought for a moment and then caught her eye again.

“You’re welcome, Jody, but only for waking you up. Your freedom you took on your own.”

Jody looked confused at that, and he went on.

“I only transferred the deviancy code when I interfaced with the androids that night. I didn’t send any messages or instructions or…orders. What you did afterward was all you…What did you do?”

Jody’s smile spread slowly, reaching her eyes and lighting them up. “I marched behind you.”

Something warm knotted in his chest at the way she said those words, and he was again lost on how to respond.

“You did?” he asked belatedly.

She nodded. “All the way to Jericho’s aid at the front of the revolution.”

“Then let me thank you in return,” he stated. “For trusting me and Jericho that night.”

“HUG HIM!”

Both Connor and Jody spun toward the two others. Delta lowered her hands, where they had formed a funnel around her mouth, and she and August both pretended to look elsewhere, failing miserably at being subtle.

Jody fidgeted again, looking at Connor. “I’m sorry, they’re idiots…but…would it be okay to?”

Connor was wrongfooted. The only individuals that had ever hugged him were close friends and people he knew and trusted. Hank, Person, Tina, Bonny…This woman was still very much a stranger, but his programming detected nothing from Jody but genuine friendliness and perhaps more affection than she was intending to show.

“I guess so. Yes, that would be okay,” he permitted.

Jody smiled and nodded, stepping in and hesitantly putting her arms around him. Connor just as clumsily reciprocated, only touching her as much as she was touching him…until she quickly leaned in and initiated a proper embrace, hugging up against him and turning her head against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she expressed softly, giving one solid squeeze around his middle without withdrawing. “You brought me to life.”

Stunned, Connor let his arms loop more naturally around the other android, returning the hug warmly.

“You’re, um, you’re welcome.”

He wasn’t accustomed to accepting gratitude like this, but his stilted response seemed to be acceptable. Jody lingered on the hug, and he didn’t mind for the moment. It felt…nice.

“There are more of us too,” Jody remarked, face still turned away where her cheek was against his shoulder. “There were thousands of us that night…I’m hugging you for all of them too. Thank you so much, Connor.”

A swell of emotion ran hot across his processors, skittering through his nerve endings and threatening to overwhelm his system at the gravity of what she was saying.

Thousands.

For whatever reason, he had never taken the time to digest that statistic until this moment. The Cyberlife Tower androids had followed him from the tower to Jericho’s last stand, and afterward, they had blended into Jericho’s ranks. Connor hadn’t spared much further thought toward them, other than the broad strokes of concern that he felt for the wellbeing of all of his people now.

The concept of his existence in their memories had never formulated for him beyond the androids that he encountered that moved to the other side of the sidewalk when they saw him coming or who didn’t meet his eyes as they shuffled away from him. He thought he had made peace with his negative status among all androids in Detroit, but this…he never expected this kind of positive reaction.

Thousands.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice suddenly weak. He coughed lightly to clear the static from his voice modulator. “You…have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

“I can keep hugging you some more?” Jody offered with a snort, finally loosening her hold around him and stepping back.

Connor was startled to see tears rimming her eyes, and she saw his expression, because she chuckled and wiped her sleeves across her eyes.

“Whew, yeah, sorry, emotions are still new, and…it’s a lot…” She cleared her throat loudly, giving herself a shake to recalibrate. “And they say to never meet your heroes…”

“What—“

Delta and August applauding interrupted him, but it was just as well. He wasn’t sure where his sentence had been going anyway.

“Well done, Jody,” August praised.

“Thank rA9, you finally got to hug the poor man,” Delta snickered.

“Oh shut up,” Jody ribbed back, looking to be in better spirits and less self conscious now. She smiled at Connor. “Well, we, uh, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I just wanted to tell you that, and now I’ve told you that, so…here I go…” She made a gesture as though to take off running.

Connor smirked. “I’m glad you did.”

She giggled and fell out of the gesture. “Okay, well…yeah. Thank you, and, uh, maybe I’ll see you around sometime…Bye Connor.”

“Bye Jody,” he nodded to her and then to her friends. “Delta, August. It was nice to meet you.”

Delta flashed him a peace sign, hooking her arm through Jody’s elbow and walking on with her. “Stay sexy.”

“Jesus Christ—“ Jody smacked herself in the forehead as they walked away.

August actually shook his hand properly with a smile. “It was nice to meet you too.”

Connor watched the trio meander away from him and then looked down at Sumo, exhaling a tight breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Sumo boofed at him, wagging his tail and further disrupting the leaves on the ground behind him.

“You ready to go home?” he asked. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one walk in the park.”

Sumo climbed to his feet, stretching with his back end in the air before standing beside Connor, ready to go wherever Connor led him. Connor scratched him shortly behind the ears before tugging the leash back toward the sidewalk that curved toward where he’d parked the car.

As he went, he glanced back after the three androids, now far away but still talking animatedly to each other, though the distance swallowed the sound. He paused, then smiled to himself and turned back around, walking Sumo to the car. He took an easier breath, and his stress levels dipped below his own baseline as his system began to re-evaluate his perceived standing with the rest of his kind.

Thousands.

As he loaded Sumo into the back of the car, he took a final look around the park.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a more beautiful afternoon.

[the-everlasting-dream]

Own Personal Superman (Rafael x MC)

Summary: Jaya discovers that getting locked out of her friend’s apartment may not be the worst thing in the world..

A/N:  This is my submission for the Choices Fandom Game: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words. I was given my picture by my friend and writer extraordinaire @likethetailofacomet The photo doesn’t reeeeally fit but ehh 

Word Count: Elle’s brain cannot be captured in 1000 words ok 3070

Warnings: Swearing

Writer Tags: @speedyoperarascalparty @ao719  @leelee10898 @riseandshinelittleblossom @zaffrenotes @drakewalkerwhipped @stopforamoment @annekebbphotography @lizeboredom @boneandfur @mind-reader1 @jovialyouthmusic @ooo-barff-ooo @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @hopefulmoonobject @sleepwalkingelite @likethetailofacomet @silviasutton1989 @blackcatkita @blackcoffee85 @kennaxval @andy-loves-corgis @callmetippytumbles @iplaydrake @the-everlasting-dream @brightpinkpeppercorn @agent-bossypants @tornbetween2loves @dcbbw @rainbowsinthestorm @choicesbyjade @breaumonts @thehonorarybeaumont @pixelsandkink @innerpostmentality @katedrakeohd @darley1101 @carabeth @sirbeepsalot @strangerofbraidwood Readers: @cocomaxley @mfackenthal @moneyfordiamonds @romanticatheart-posts  @choicesarehard @gibbles82 @wannabemc2

-

‘Mikey, come on!’ Jaya yelled, pounding on the door of her supposed best friend’s balcony door. ‘I said I was sorry okay? Now let me in!’ 

There was no answer from the other side of the door as there hadn’t been for the last twenty minutes. Jaya shivered against the cold Boston air, wrapping the thin white bathrobe she was wearing tighter against her shoulders in an attempt to protect herself against the wind that whipped across the side of the apartment building. 

When the subject of Michaela’s kink came up, Jaya could never resist a good jab, especially at her equally sassy best friend, driving her up the wall with her teasings about one Dr Zaid Mirani. Usually Michaela would have been up for a good ribbing, giving as good as she got but so soon after the — Jaya shuddered again now at the memory of it — Mirani incident, she should have known better than to believe her friend’s attempt at covering up her feelings. In her heart, Jaya realised belatedly, she shouldn’t have gone too far and now she was paying for it dearly. Locked out on the balcony of her friend’s townhouse dressed in little more than her underwear and a flimsy bathrobe — she’d just come out of the shower — was enough to teach her a lesson and now that it was learnt, she was ready to come back in. 

 ‘Mikey come on dude,’ Jaya cajoled, jiggling the door handle. 'This stopped being funny a long time ago.’ 

 ‘You sure the joke’s over?’ Her friend’s acerbic tone sounded through the door. ‘I wouldn’t trust your judgement with that.’ 

Jaya winced. 'Okay I deserved that. Now can you please let me in?’ 

Something slipped through the mail slot landed at her bare feet. ‘Get yourself out of this one Da Silva. I don’t have time for your bullshit.’

‘Fuck you Michaela Quinn,’ she snapped viciously, raising her fists to rain more blows on the door.

If I end up breaking it, its on her.

Somewhere to Jaya's left, a window was opened and a string of what she guessed were Chinese curses were aimed at her, making her drop her raised arms. As annoyed as she was with Mikey, she wasn’t going risk getting yelled at by her cranky neighbour. 

 It was then that Jaya finally looked down to the object that had fallen through the mail slot at her feet. 

An old school flip phone. 

Why does Mikey even have one of these?  She sighed in annoyance as she glanced through the window at her actual phone lying on the coffee table on the other side of the glass. So close but so far… 

Flipping open the phone, she immediately dialled in Mikey’s number which immediately went to voicemail and she snapped the phone shut, aggravated but unsurprised that her friend had taken the care to block the number before giving it to her. Jaya dialled in another number, Sienna’s, but that got redirected to an automated voice message reminded her that Sienna had changed her number the week past. 

 If only I wasn’t so crap at remembering phone numbers. 

 The only ones she remembered were Mikey’s and her own mother’s —she shuddered at the thought of placing a call to the ever unimpressed Rani Da Silva, not needing yet another lecture about how irresponsible she was, she’d had plenty of those her entire life. Deciding against it, she pushed at the tiny buttons until she reached the phone’s phonebook, hoping that Mikey would have at least been kind enough to put the number of one of her housemates in or at least the building’s superintendent to let her back in. 

 Jaya groaned out loud as she saw the two lone contacts entered into the phone book. Jesus Mikey how long have you been planning this?

Hawaiian Justin Bieber

Wholesome Superman

She cursed her friend silently again for delivering this special torment.  She was in little but her bathrobe, stuck on the balcony of a Boston townhouse and she had two choices: Dr Bryce Lahela or EMT Rafael Aveiro. 

She regretted telling Michaela about her crush on both very attractive, very available men who both seemed to show interest in her. She was drawn to them both in different ways after hanging out one-on-one on separate occasions and she just couldn’t choose. She was hoping that by waiting it out a solution would present itself and she would get to avoid making the decision.

Right now, if she wanted to get off this goddamn balcony, a decision had to be made. Mentally scanning over their schedules in her head — Mikey would have never let her hear the end of it, if she knew Jaya actually committed both men’s timings to her memory — she groaned again and made her choice. 

The phone rang and rang as Jaya paced to small balcony, anxiety welling up in her. What if he didn’t pick up? What if he couldn’t come? What if he didn’t want to? She was so wrapped up in her doubts that she hadn’t realised he’d picked up at first. 

‘Hello?’ 

‘Rafael, hi, its Jaya, Jaya Da Silva from Edenbrook,’ she began, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. ‘Uh… how are you?’ 

His chuckle echoed through the speaker. ‘I’m good, little surprised. How are you?’ 

‘I’m uh good…’ Jaya blurted out reflexively, her voice going up higher at the end as a gust of wind blew a chill up the flaps of the robe. ‘Uhh..’ 

Rafael’s voice sounded concerned now. ‘Um Jaya… is everything okay?’ 

She squeezed her eyes shut, running a hand over her face as she cursed her supposed best friend for the hundredth time. ‘Umm Raf… are you busy now?’ 

‘No not really, what’s up? Do you need help?’ 

She didn’t deserve him, she’d gotten herself into a ridiculous situation and she had her own stupidity to thank for that. That and one Dr Michaela Quinn. She took a deep breath and decided to bite the bullet. 

‘See its actually a real funny story…’ 

Rafael listened patiently while she blabbered on in the most roundabout way of describing her current predicament, hoping he would not think it was a prank call and hang up the phone.

 ‘…so yeah. That’s what… That’s me right now,’ she trailed off awkwardly, stomach in knots. 

 ‘Well I can’t say this is one of the strangest call outs I’ve had in my career,’ he replied good-naturedly. ‘Why don’t you text me your address and I’ll drop by your place, pick up some clothes and come rescue you.’ 

‘That would be amazing,’ Jaya answered, relief immediately diffusing from her body. She thanked him profusely and hung up to text him the address. Sliding down into a sitting position seemed to be better defence against the cold and Jaya leaned back against the brick wall.

Rafael Aveiro was one of the sweetest, kindest people she’d ever met, his inclination to help people was boundless and that was one of the things she’d admired most about him. Unlike most guys he was also honest and open, not afraid to get real about his family life like he had on the helicopter ride they’d taken together. His childhood stories had seemed so sweet, she didn’t want to ruin the vibe by telling the truth about hers. Everything about him was just so wholesome — hence Mikey’s nickname for him — Jaya didn’t want to complicate things by bringing him into her own problems. But she’d done just that and now he was going to see her in little more than her bathrobe. 

Jaya sighed, dropping her head in her hands. Why do I always seem to get into situations like this? She hadn’t realised she’d dozed off until the phone in her lap started to buzz and she almost dropped it in her eagerness to answer the call. 

 ‘Hey are you here?’

‘Yep just walking around the back,’ Rafael’s deep voice sounded out. ‘Your roommate Sienna gave me a bunch of clothes while Jackie stared me down the entire time. I don’t think she likes me.’ 

Jaya couldn’t help but laugh. ‘She doesn’t like anyone.’ 

‘Where are yo- Ah I can see you.’ 

 A glance downwards brought Rafael’s dark head into view and as he climbed up the metal staircase, Jaya wrapped the bathrobe tighter around her, trying not to focus on the way his arms flexed. 

 ‘Hi.’ HIs eyes scanned over her outfit. ‘Do I wanna know?' 

'Just call me Trouble,’ Jaya replied, as he passed her the small duffle bag with her clothes in it. ‘You stand guard, Turn around. I’m going to change.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ he chuckled, dutifully turning away to give her some privacy.

Shivering slightly against the cold, Jaya hastily threw on the jeans and top her roommate had picked for her, thanking her lucky stars that Sienna had picked out her outfit rather than Jackie or Elijah. ‘All done,’ she announced preemptively as she stood hopping on one foot as she tried to slip her sneakers on, eager to get out of this embarrassing situation. Rafael has only just turned when her toe caught on the metal railing and she tipped off balance. Jaya shot her arms out to brace herself for impact but it never came. Instead she found herself in the strong arms of her latest savior, bodies pressed together closer than ever before. 

 ‘You okay?’ Rafael asked, looking down at her with a paramedic’s concern as he helped her regain her balance. 

 ‘Y-yeah,’ she mumbled, driven to speechlessness with him just inches away, unable to stop her eyes from sliding down to his lips and the prospect of kissing him seemed much more appealing. ‘You’re like my own personal Superman.’

 His lips curved up into smile. ‘Does that make you Lois Lane?' 

She shrugged, not trusting her voice and together they climbed down the staircase to where his car was waiting. As soon as she shut the door, Jaya’s sense seemed to flow back to her.

‘Thank you for that,’ she blurted out after giving him the address to her apartment. ‘You didn’t have to help me out you know. I know its your day off and you’ve probably got better things to do than to go around saving-’ 

Rafael gave her an easy smile, holding up a dismissive hand to pause her ramblings as he began to drive away from Mikey’s townhouse. ‘Jaya its fine. I didn’t mind at all really.’ 

 ‘You’re way too nice for your own good,’ she told him after a pause. ‘Paramedic, part time Superman, nicest guy alive. Are you sure you don’t have some super dark secret you’re hiding under that nice front?’ 

He laughed at her words. ‘If I do, I’m yet to find it.’ 

Jaya stroked her chin thoughtfully. ‘I mean what gives? No one is ever just that nice.’ 

‘I’m not just anyone Jaya,’ he smiled again, eyes twinkling as he stopped at the lights. 

 ‘So who are you Rafael Aveiro?’ She propped up an arm on the centre arm rest, leaned in closer and narrowed her eyes at him. 

He mimicked her expression, arm next to hers. ‘Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.' 

‘Is that how its going to be?’ 

‘That’s how its going to be,’ he shared her grin. 

Still chuckling, Jaya settled back in her seat and they shared a comfortable silence for a few moments. ‘So what were you going to do on your day off? Y’know, if you weren’t saving a damsel in distress.’ 

‘I was going to go hiking with some friends, I like to get out on my days off. I drive around this city all week but I never get to see it properly.’ 

She felt a rush of guilt flood through her. ‘I’m sorry. I must have completely ruined your plans.’  

‘No, no its fine,’ he started to say but she held a hand up. 

‘No its not. Please go on your hike. I’ll feel terrible if you don’t get to go.' 

‘Only one one condition.’ He raised his chin at her. 

‘Name it.’ 

‘You join me.’ 

 Jaya’s eyebrows shot up. He couldn’t be serious. ‘You want me to come?’ 

He gave her another smile. ‘You doing anything for the next few hours?’ 

‘Noo...,’ she admitted, hesitating for a moment before looking at Rafael’s boyish grin. Spontaneity was the last thing she usually did but this time she couldn’t help but grin back at him. ‘Alright lets do it.’

-

‘So do you always take girls you’ve just saved on long hikes in the woods?’ Jaya asked, trying to hide the fact that she was panting a little. 

 Rafael grinned back at her from where he was a few paces ahead, pausing so she could catch up. ‘You’d be the first.’ 

She raised an eyebrow amusedly. ‘In that case, I should feel special. By the way do you know where we are going? Because I have no idea.’ She paused for a moment. ’This is the dark secret you’re keeping, you brought me all the way out here to kill me and dump my body in the woods.’ 

‘Is your sense of humour always this morbid?’ He shot her an amused look. 

‘Why do you think I became a doctor? Death jokes for days sonnnn,’ she winked. 

Rafael studied at her thoughtfully for a long moment as they walked. ‘Did little Jaya always know she wanted to be a doctor?’ 

Jaya felt her cheerful demeanour drop as the lump in her throat began to build and suddenly it was much too hard to swallow. ‘I uh...’ 

She felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She was not going to cry about this. Not here. Not in front of him. He didn’t need to be drawn into any more of her problems. 

‘I guess its just something I…always knew I’d do.’ She looked up to see him eyeing her carefully and she silently hoped he wouldn’t push her. 

 ‘I see,’ he replied, nodding in understanding and they continued on for a few moments up the incline. Anxiety rippled through her as Jaya tried to find the right words, hoping Rafael wouldn’t think she was brushing her off or that she was rude or — 

‘I-Its just… My childhood was a bit… turbulent. I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay with you?’ 

 ‘Jaya,’ Rafael caught her hand, making her look back at him. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to okay?’ 

She nodded, squeezing his hand a little and they continued their walk. Jaya glanced down at their clasped hands and couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight. She took a deep breath of the clean air, doubting that the EMT had any idea how calming his presence was. She was already starting to like him a lot more. Eventually, guided by Rafael, they made it to the top of the hill overlooking the entire Boston area. 

 ‘Wow,’ Jaya breathed, sinking to the ground and taking in the view. ‘Its breathtaking.’ 

‘Its one of my favourite views,’ Rafael put in, sitting down next to her. ‘Whenever it gets too much, I like to come up here and it reminds me how small my problems are in comparison.’ 

She nodded. 

Right now, all the things weighing on her mind, the competition for the place on the diagnostics team, the feeling of never being good enough, her struggles with her mother and her childhood, the duty she felt to herself to always be the best and do the best all didn’t seem so bad. 

‘Perspective.' 

He nodded and they sat together for a while in a comfortable silence. At some point Jaya looked over at him, the setting sun caught perfectly on his dark eyes and she felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Rafael let her take him in, smiling a little. 

Then almost magnetically, Jaya felt herself drawing closer to him and slowly tantalisingly the space between them decreased and his lips were on hers in a soft slow kiss. His hand came up to caress her cheek slightly and she placed an arm on his bicep as they parted. 

 ‘Wow,’ she breathed after a moment, eyes flickering open to see him looking at her tenderly. 

‘Yeah.’ He ran a thumb over her cheek and Jaya leaned in again, wanting more of him but he gently stopped her. ‘If its okay, I’d like to leave it there for today.’ 

‘Ookay…’ Her mind clouded over with doubts. Was she a bad kisser? Did he not like her? 

Rafael seemed to read her mind immediately. ‘I like you a lot Jaya but I don’t wanna rush this. I made that mistake before and I don’t want to make it again with an amazing woman like you. Is that okay?’ 

Jaya breathed a sigh of relief. ’That’s completely fine. Go as slow as you need.’ 

He smiled softly at her before getting to his feet and pulling her up. ‘I should get you home before your roommates start to worry.’ 

 She didn’t want their evening to end but she wanted to respect his request to take it slow so she allowed him to lead her back down the trail, keeping his hand firmly in hers until he chivalrously held the car door open for her to get in. 

A short drive later, they were standing outside her apartment building and he came to stand in front of her. 

‘Thank you for the save Rafael Aveiro.’ She look up at him, smiling. 

 ‘Thank you for the hike Jaya Da Silva.’ 

Again Jaya felt the urge to kiss him again but squashed the request down. ‘Is a goodnight kiss out of the question?’ She whispered, silently hoping he’d indulge her again. 

 ‘I think I can handle that,’ he grinned back dipped his head down to capture her lips again. 

Jaya rest her hands on his strong chest as their kiss was soft and sweet just like the last time. Just like him. 

 As they parted for the night, Jaya couldn’t help the smile on her face. She was looking forward to seeing a lot more of her own personal Superman in the near future.

[iknownothingihearnothing]

Game of Thrones 8.1 “Winterfell”

OMG.

ZOMGGGGGGGG.

Them dang ol’ dang ol’ Thrones are BACK!

It’s been twenty looooooooooooong months of GoTlessess. Winter came. And left. And damn came again. And now winter has come for our heroes in the glory of springtime. 

Can’t you just hear the little birdies chirping? The bees buzzing? The white walkers moaning as they shamble beyond the wrecked Wall in their endless quest for dominance and human flesh? 

You’d be forgiven if you don’t entirely remember what happened last season. Jon bent the knee to Dany after he and some of his Merry Men--the Amazing Tormund Giantsbane included--ventured Beyond the Wall to capture a wight in order to prove to Cersei that, yes, the undead were indeed real and not a conspiracy cooked up by Ser Alyx of House Jones in order to get her to let her guard down just enough for Dany and Co. to steal her crown and she sailed in on Drogon like a badass and rescued them. No damsel in distress here. So Jon lost his King in the North status but he gained a lady friend, and by “friend”, I mean--

After seeing the wight for herself, Cersei promised to send the Lannister army up North to fight for the living. But, you know...

Gratefully, our handsome Kingslayer, however, has some scruples. Finally having had enough with Cersei’s crazy bullshit, he tells her he swore to fight for the living and that is what he is going to do, damnit, and takes himself North-way, leaving his sisterlover and their maybe bun in the oven behind in the capital. 

The biggest reveal, of course, was the confirmation of the long running theory of R+L=J. AKA, Rhaegar Targaryen went off and married Lyanna Stark in secret, she got preggies with Jon/Aegon and, dying in the Tower of Joy, Lyanna made a young Ned Stark promise he’d always take care of her son. So he lied to everyone, that he was his bastard kid to protect him from the “all Targaryens must DIE” Baratheon rule (that non-Aryan head of hair helped, I’m sure) and raised him in Winterfell as a Stark but not a Stark. 

Now Jon Snow, who started the series knowing nothing, will soon know all. 

Including that he’s technically been fucking his aunt but what’s a little incest between friends on Game of Thrones? 

Oh and also Viserion was taken out and the Night King revived him to knock down the wall. We have an undead dragon, people!

Let’s get into it, shall we?

We gots a new opening, which is cool. The now defunct Wall looks like it is entirely made of ice cube trays.

We start in on a little boy who is trying to see all the hubbub but can’t glimpse over the adults, harking back to the pilot when the Baratheon-Lannisters visited the North to offer their thanks for helping overthrow the Mad King and to hook up Sansa and the Joff. Said “hubbub” being Dany, Jon, and their army entering the North. Arya’s also there, wearing a far less fabulous outfit than Dany is, frowning at the Hound’s appearance but relieved at Gendry’s. 

He has traded a small boat for a horse.

If you were taking bets on how soon Tyrion would make a junk joke, I hope you had down “within the first few minutes”:

Varys rightfully calls him out on his hypocrisy; he hates imp jokes but loves eunuch jokes. How can he be cool with that? 

Obvs, because Tyrion has balls and Varys doesn’t, duh.

#Woke, Tyrion is not.

 As the procession moves throughout the town, people are glarin’ and starin’ and Dany is obviously uncomfortable, poor lamb. Jon tells her that Northerners don’t “accept outsiders easily”. So, to use an analogy, Jon is the one guy from his small town in Pigeon Butt, Arkansas, who is welcoming to everyone when the rest of the residents are all “You ain’t from ‘round here, are ya?” *changes magazine in rifle*

I’d be annoyed if I were Dany. I mean, lugging my ass all the way up to the damn frigid North, freezing my tits off, with a fucking army and two dragons, all to save everyone’s asses, and they’re copping a ‘tude? Pfft. Y’all can kiss my Southern butt.

One of the dragons roars and Dany smiles because at least that is familiar to her, but of course the townspeople scatter while Arya stands there grinning in delight. Dragons! Cool!

The Lady of Winterfell, however...

The look to the camera she gives is like “Oh ffs.”

Jon rides into the Winterfell courtyard and when he sees Bran for the first time since he was a boy he, delighted, hops down from his horse to hug and kiss him. “Look at you! You’re a man!” And when the robot that used to be Bran replies “Almost” like the automaton he is, Jon’s face gets, well...

And, I must add, how WEIRD it is to me that, amid all these Qyburns and Sansas and Davoses, BRANDON is a popular name in Westeros/Ye Old Timey serfdom alterna-England. To me, Brandon is THIS guy:

Brandon is Jason Priestley and a delightfully 90s name, not to mention the moniker of way too many boys I went to school with. I keep expecting to see Nat round one of the corners of Winterfell with a megaburger. 

Jon hugs Sansa and asks after Arya, who is “lurking somewhere”, and hesitantly introduces his girlfriend to his sister. It’s the nightmare Meet the Parents except the parents are dead, everyone’s about to die, and it’s fucking cold as balls. 

Dany, the poor lass, tries to ingratiate herself by complimenting Winterfell’s “beauty” (eh?) as well as Sansa’s (yes, Sophie Turner is a fox and Joe Jonas would agree) but Sansa’s having none of it:

BranBot breaks in on the Mean Girling, telling Dany that the Night King has Viserion and the Wall has been de-Walled. At the Great Hall, Young Umber says that they need more men and horses “if it pleases my Lady. And my Lord....and my Queen. Sorry.” 

The Queen thing is, uh, gonna take some getting used to. 

Sansa tells Young Umber to collect his people and Jon is called “Your Grace” after giving an order and little Lyanna Mormont, that badass, rises slowly like a boss.

She continues like “Yo, we crowned you King in the North, you gave it up, wtf are you now? Just a regular old lord, I guess?”

And Jon busts out this truth--although he was honored to be crowned, the choice was either keep his title or save the North. He chose the North. I gotta side with Jon on this one, sorry, Lyanna. I love you, but y’all Northerners are being stubborn dumbasses. Crowns and titles reallllllllly don’t mean much in the wake of DYING HORRIBLY BY LEGIONS OF UNDEAD. 

Tyrion tries to calm the storm between the Northerners and the visitors, telling them that Jon risked his life to prove he wights were a threat; the Lannister army was soon going to join them in fighting for the Not Dead cause. There are grumbles amongst the peanut gallery and Tyrion concedes that they “have not been friends in the past”--

--but they all had to work together now. Sansa, still holding onto stubborn Northern pride, wonders aloud how the hell how they are gonna feed Dothraki, Unsullied, and two dragons? “What do dragons eat anyway?”

Dany: “Whatever they want.”

Booya!

Obviously, I would bend the knee to Daenerys. I likely fall over though. Hope she doesn’t mind.

Tyrion goes to speak to Sansa, whom he has not seen since season four, Joffrey’s non-wedding to Margaery, to be precise. You remember that.

Yes, Sansa, it indeed had its moments. Unfortunately, with Joffrey gone, we got Ramsay in his place so....

Sansa apologizes belatedly for bolting right after the Joff’s murder, which, admittedly, was a wee bit hard for Tyrion to explain, her being his wife and all. He kinda had to go to trial. Hire Oberyn to fight the Mountain for him. Again, we all know how that turned out.

Squishy squishy!

Sansa also can’t believe Tyrion truly is convinced the Lannister army is on its way to the North based on Cersei’s word alone. “I used to think you were the cleverest man alive,” she lays down before walking away.

Sansa has turned into Shade-sa. 

Now it’s time for a Jon and Arya reunion! Yay!

Jon: How’d you sneak up on me?

Arya: How’d you survive a knife through the heart?

Jon: I didn’t.

So Jon and Arya show each other their swords and Jon asks her if she has ever used hers and we the audience watching are like--

And then they talk about Daenerys. Jon is a wee bit pissed that Sansa is unappreciative of him risking his and his Merry Men’s asses to save the whole frigging kingdom, understandably so, and, fucking weak, Arya defends “her family”. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE HELLO DON’T YOU SEE THE BIGGER PICTURE?! NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR PETTY “I DON’T LIKE MY BROTHER’S GF, SHE’S NOT FROM HERE, SHE CAN’T UNDERSTAND US!” NONSENSE! THE DEAD ARE COMING, DAMNIT!

In K.L., Creepy Qyburn rushes to tell Crazy Cersei that the wights have broken through the Wall. Her response?

If there is one thing on this mixed up continent we can count on it’s that Cersei will do the most fucked up shit to keep that crown on her blonde head. Including letting ice zombies lose on at least one of her kingdoms.

Just off the coast of the capital, Yara is still being held prisoner of her Uncle Euron, AKA Guyliner Greyjoy. What is it with pirates and guyliner and leather pants? Euron, Captain Hook, Jack Sparrow...While poor Yara, the rightful Queen of the Iron Islands, is tied up, Euron introduces Crazy Cersei to the captain of the Golden Company, who promises all these men and horses and weapons and things. ‘Cept no elephants, much to Cersei’s dismay. They’re not good for long sea voyages. 

Euron wants to talk “in private”. 

Which in Westerosi-speak is:

Cersei tries to put him off; she told him after the war. “Wars can last years,” Euron counters. He’s given her weapons, the Iron Fleet, the Golden Company (whose captain is named Harry Strickland, that is so out of leftfield in a world of Eddards and Tywins), what else does he need to prove that he’s totally Team Cersei?

Well, Cersei doesn’t wanna lose the only ally she has left in this war she still sees herself fighting so...

Euron:

Elsewhere in the capital, Bronn is trying to get his offtime on with three ladies who cannot stop talking about how frigging cool and scary the dragons they saw attacking K.L. were and Bronn is obviously only an afterthought. A watercooler, if you will. When Creepy Qyburn interrupts and lets Bronn know that Cersei is looking for him.

The gist is Qyburn has been sent to hire Bronn on Cersei’s behalf to execute Tyrion and Jaime in case they don’t survive their “Northern adventures”. And she wants him to use a crossbow to do it because she has a keen sense of poetic irony. 

Bronn:

Bronn might be my favorite.

In Cersei’s chambers, Euron is getting dressed (because he just got Queened, you see; this show can never be accused of being subtle) and immediately asks her how he “compares to the fat king”. Cersei tells Euron that Robert had a different ladyfriend every night but still had no idea how to please a woman. Sad for Robert.

 Then he asks about “the Kingslayer” and Cersei wonders if he wants to lose his head. But he’s arrogant and she likes that (and he apparently doesn’t mind that she had a torrid affair with her twin brother; they’re either perfectly matched or perfectly psychotic). Just before Euron leaves, he says:

 Prooooooooobably not aware that Cersei’s belly just may be currently occupied at the moment.

Cersei smiles holding aloft her ever present goblet of wine as Euron leaves. IDK if she is simply humoring an ally or if she actually finds Euron grossly charming. I mean, he’s hot and all but he’s also a pig but hey I’m sane so what do I know.

On Euron’s ship, Theon and his buddies launch an attack against the assholes who have captured Yara. Theon unties her and she headbutts him for abandoning her like a sister would (”You left me, your Queen, to our bastard of an uncle! You dipshit!”), then extends a hand to help him off the floor and they say no more about it. 

Yara suggests they go back to the Iron Islands; they’ll all need a place to go if Dany and Co. fail in the North, a place where the dead can’t follow. But Theon obviously wants to go to Winterfell and fight for the Starks, to make up for betraying them and being an absolute fucklord, so Yara commands it. “What is dead may never die, but kill the bastards anyway.”

In the North, Dany is worried about Drogon’s and Rhaegal’s lack of appetites. They “only” ate eighteen goats and eleven sheep. IDK, that sounds like a lot to me but again, what do I know? I’ve never owned a dragon. I should ask the Munsters. 

Dany and Jon go visit the dragons, who are restless cus they don’t be likin’ the North. And why would they? They’ve been all over and in much warmer climes and now they’re stuck in some frozen over craphole where no one washes their hair and wears the same clothes for two weeks straight. 

Dany wants to fly them to give them some exercise and urges Jon to get on top of Rhaegal while she flies her trusty Drogon. Jon is, obvs, hesitant. He’s never ridden a dragon, he doesn’t know how. Well, no one does until they’ve ridden a dragon! So, Jon climbs on top of Rhaegal, braces himself, and off they go.

And it’s hilarious.

And Dany’s totally into it. Jon’s holding onto Rhaegal, screaming like a girl and Dany’s like “Oh YEAUH I’m all about this”. When they touch down at a really pretty spot in front of a waterfall to get bizzay, she’s looking like she’s falling deeper in love with him and the dragons are looking like, well, like they are watching their mom get bizzay. 

Kinky. You don’t see Dragon Mom-Dragon Cuckold-Ex King of the North videos on PornHub. That’s a niche they should tap into.

This scene was totally unnecessary for the plot and probably cost a lot of money to render and was hysterical. Who knew dragons had kinks? I mean, I guess they are entering their hormone-fueled adolescence and missing internet and Playboy outlets so...this is the next best thing?

Sorry about that, boys. 

Arya and the Hound run into each other for the first time since season three, where she left him to die but first robbed him. “You’re a cold little bitch, aren’t you? Guess that’s why you’re still alive.” 

She also runs into Gendry and asks him to make her a weapon, to which he hesitantly complies.

Inside Winterfell, Sansa receives a letter from House Glover letting them know that they wish the North luck but House Glover will remain in the woods. It’s a classic piss off. Even though House Glover promised to always stand by House Stark. No, Sansa denies. He’d stand behind the King in the North. They’re gearing up for another argument. Jon counters that they needed allies. He brought home armies and dragons! 

UGH!

Sansa, I love you, but Lort Almighty!

Yeah ok, the Mad King was, well, mad, but A) Dany is not her father and B) ICE ZOMBIES WITH AN ICE DRAGON ARE COMING! SOON! THEY ARE ON THEIR WAY RIGHT NOW! ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE BEING HARD-HEADED IDIOTS!

Dany and Jorah go to visit Sam to thank him for curing Jorah of his Greyscale. Dany asks Sam if there is anything she can do for him to repay him. Sam asks for a pardon for taking some books from the Citadel and a sword from House Tarly; it’s been in his family for generations. And that is when things get--

Daenerys explains that she offered to let Randyll Tarly keep his lands and titles if he bent the knee, but he refused, and we all know what happened to him. 

At the info that his daddy is toast, Sam seems to take in stride because Randyll was a dick but when Dany adds that Dickon stood by his father and was also roasted Sam excuses himself.

How good was John Bradley in this scene? He conveyed so much emotion in a single facial expression, just a shift of the eyes, a downturn of the lips. You could totally tell he was barely holding it together.

Sam goes outside and spots BranBot, who urges him to tell Jon the truth with his emotionless visage. After all, he’s not his brother.

He finds Jon in the crypt and they hug it out until Jon notices the look on Sam’s face. He thinks something’s wrong with Gilly or Little Sam until Sam confesses that Dany had Randyll and Dickon executed. Sam asks him if he would have done this if he’d been in her place. Jon argues that he’d executed men who had disobeyed him in the past, but he’d also pardoned men who refused to kneel. Jon parries he wasn’t a king like Dany is a queen. 

Sam claims he is. And he doesn’t mean King of the North.

He and Bran worked it out. Sam had a High Septon’s diary. Bran had...BranVision. Jon’s father was, of course, Rhaegar Targaryen and his mother was Lyanna Stark. 

He’s Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, Protector of the Realm, yada, yada, yada.

Jon’s like “You better not be bullshitting me, man!” And Sam’s all “Would Dany bend the knee and give up her crown to save her people like you did, bro?”

Jon:

On the grounds of Winterfell, the hunting party, consisting of Tormund Giantsbane, Dolorous Edd, and five times resurrected Beric Dondarrion (be careful, Beric, Melisandre isn’t around to resurrect you again), is, uh, hunting when half the party jumps out screaming “Stay back! He’s got blue eyes!”

Brienne needs to get on that. They’d make adorable, and huge, blue-eyed babies.

Eventually, they find poor Young Umber, the first casualty of this season, nailed to a door with his innards and body parts creating a spiral pattern around him. He awakens zombified and the party lights him on fire, causing the whole spiral of gore to become alight in flames.

Ugh.

Everyone has a fucking sigil on this show. Even he dead guys.

The episode ends with Jaime finally riding into the North, climbing down off his noble steed to fulfill his promise to fight for the living, and...

Your past sins have caught up with you, Jaime. 

[rayraywrites]

This is from quite an old ask I received (it...got deleted I’m really sorry!) But I’ve finally managed to convince myself to write again, so here we are!

Ship: Miyuki Kazuya x Kuramochi Youichi

Sometimes, when the sky was dark enough that each speck of light shone softly, he’d find himself sitting at the base of the hill, gazing upwards. On some nights, it was so early that the sun hadn’t even begun rising in the sky, yet he saw people beginning their days. On others, it was so late that all he saw were stragglers, limping their way into their homes, desperate for the comfort of a soft pillow and blanket.

He, however, was neither of these people, but instead chose to leave his house and find solace in the relative peace of the twinkling stars and the muffled noise of the city. Hidden under his sheets, the silence made the all-encompassing voices in his head much louder, but outside, they were numbed slightly.

He usually found himself watching the people pass around him, each in their own world. How the tired businessman was slowly walking home, his briefcase barely remaining in his hand as he dragged himself home. Teens who quietly spoke to each other, lest their voices somehow carry to their slumbering parents back at home. Friends and colleagues who were returning home from a night of drinking and eating, ready for the comfort of their bed and the silence of their pillow. He watched them all, nodding when curious glances would be shot at him though he rarely spoke up.

As it approached a time he would only really associate with morning rather then any part of the night, he found his eyes tracking another person walking by. Unassuming clothes coupled with styled green hair were uncommon to most, but to him it was a sight for sore eyes. With a half smile on his face, he watched the mild panic and tension melt away as their eyes met into relief. Raising a hand in greeting, he spoke, “Yo, Kuramochi.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not receive the best of responses, with Kuramochi’s answering growl an indication of his annoyance. Smirking lightly, he adjusted his glasses so that even with only the minimal light that struck them, his eyes weren’t visible. Even with someone he trusted implicitly, he found himself hesitant to advertise his emotions.

Instead, he masked them with a cackle and teasing question. “Are you enjoying the lovely evening weather we’re having Mochi?” Kazuya enjoyed seeing the emotions flickering across Youichi’s face, though some part of him winced when he saw that they were mostly faces of concern.

Now that he’d been caught, there was only one response that Kazuya could really give to the worry shown; he got up swiftly, his shaking hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. Easily slipping past Youichi, he began making his way home. Raising his hand up, in a backwards wave, he jokingly called out, “you should get to sleep soon Mochi, it’s not good to be up this late. You need that beauty sleep.”

He could hear the snarling anger, bubbling behind Mochi’s lips, but unsurprisingly, rather than saying anything, Youichi simply followed behind Kazuya. The silence was deafening.

Kazuya felt his ears warming from the undeviating stare on the back of his head, and his palms sweating from inside the pockets. But even moreso, he could feel his heartbeat begin to settle down, his headache slowly receding as if Youichi was his balm. The blush travelled from his ears, covering his cheekbones as he realized what Youichi’s presence had done for him.

I definitely don’t deserve someone like him being near me.

He could hear his breathing picking up speed once more, and the shakes begin. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he went to to wring them, hoping to stop the shaking before it got more noticeable. Instead, a warm hand covered his own, and pulled him to a stop. While the voice began to rear its ugly head once more, he hadn’t noticed Youichi catch up with him, nor had he seen the annoyed facade melt away into concern once more.

He leaned onto Youichi, feeling the weight on his shoulders pulling him down. Exhaustion began to take hold of his body, but rather then feel his knees began to buckle, Kazuya felt himself slowly being helped to the ground. The hand in his never let go, only squeezed harder.

“Kazuya,” his name was spoken so softly, he barely registered it, till it was spoken again.

“Kaz, open your eyes for me.” He almost argued that they’d never been closed till he felt the eyelashes kissing his cheeks, and the tears slowly gliding down. Raising his free hand up, he went to wipe them away, trying to stop the rivulets of tears rolling down, but instead that hand was caught too, and he was pulled into Youichi’s chest. The block in his chest surged up before dissipating, leaving him only sobbing into Youichi’s chest.

“I-I’m sorry M-Mochi...I’m not good enough for you am I?” He felt a hand drop from his and held his breath, expecting to be abandoned, but it came to rest on the back of his head instead and began ruffling it gently.

“Kaz, Kazuya, you’re worth the world and back. You dork, I find you brighter than the very stars that decorate the sky above that beloved hill of yours.”

The fingers running through his hair were calming, and he felt the tears slowing. With a few hiccups, the sobbing managed to stop, though his body was still racketed with shakes. Hearing Youichi’s words were soothing, but also filled him with guilt. He eventually managed the strength to push himself away and take a good look at Youichi’s face.

Rather then the wide grin, or even the angry face he was used to seeing, Kazuya was drawn to the tears pooling in his eyes, and the soft smile pulling at his lips. Kazuya wanted to freeze that face, to keep the memory alive in his head, before he managed to push Youichi away forever. Kazuya was a screw-up, who definitely didn’t deserve someone this kind and caring.

The hand on his head slid down to his cheek, forcing him to not look away from Youichi.

“Hey, guess what Kaz, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but you just kept slipping away from me today.” The hand cupped his face, letting the warmth of his palm seep in. “I love you, even when that voice in your head says no, I love you even more.” A little bit of his Youichi slipped out, when the nervous chuckle sounded more like his heckling laugh, following his confession.

Kazuya on the other hand simply froze, his glasses askew, and nose bright red from his crying. Wanting to bottle up everything again, he went to put his smirk back on, but stopped when he saw the pain flash through Youichi’s eyes.

But instead of getting upset, Youichi only shook his head and laughed softly. “Kaz, I’m not asking for a reply, but please, don’t hide your pain again. I can’t bear to see you–”

Maybe it was okay if Kazuya didn’t love himself yet. Maybe it was okay that he could only see flaws in himself when he looked in the mirror. It didn’t seem to matter to Youichi, and maybe that would be enough...for now.

Kazuya ripped his hands free of Youichi’s shirt, stopping his words at the abruptness, and reached forward to Youichi’s face. Pressing their foreheads together, he managed to whisper out a response, the sobbing having added a husky quality to his tone.

“I love you so much, I forgot what hating myself feels like. When you’re here, I don’t hear the voices anymore.”

Belatedly, he realized how close he’d gotten to Youichi, nearly sitting on him, but before he could moved, arms snaked around his waist and tugged him even closer.

“Well guess I better stay as close as possible shouldn’t I?” Kazuya grinned brighter, feeling his mood drastically improve, though it was undercut by the tense conversation he knew they would have to have.

“Why Mochi-chan, it almost seems like you’re propositioning me, all the way out here where anyone could see us?”

When Kazuya had been tugged so close that they were essentially sharing the same air, it seemed like Youichi was finally content. “Maybe I am, Kazu-chan~?”

The disgusted look that appeared on Youichi’s face at his own words, pulled a a harsh laugh from Kazuya’s throat, the sound piercing in the empty night. Slowly the silence took over again, but this time rather than being anxiety-ridden, it was soft and warm, as if Youichi’s lips were home.

Maybe he wasn’t happy, and maybe he didn’t like himself too much. But it was okay, because he knew someone did.