#and when they DO have body language it's just them passive aggressively clapping their hands

[genericpuff]

For the sake of comedy, I redrew this iconic S1 panel in the S3 style. Better or worse? 💀😆 /s

edit: because i've gotten comments on both this post and the one i shared in the subreddit that seem to misinterpret why i made this, y'all this is meant to be satire, i'm not actually trying to 'outdo' the original panel, it's supposed to look like the S3 art style which looks boring and stiff compared to the original LMAO (I even used S3 panels as the base to work off of when creating this) so yes all the issues with the redrawn version are on purpose, i'm well aware it's not as good as the original and that the anatomy is wack, that just tells me i succeeded because it's p much exactly what S3 of LO looks like JFKDLAJFDASKLJKASLD

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Comin' At My Friends Like a Missile

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Paring: 12th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2,859

Warnings: a passive aggressive homophobic character (which plays a role in the plot)

Summary: The Doctor takes you, Bill, and Nardole to a fair on a distant planet to try what he says is "the best Candy Floss in the Universe".  It’s incredibly busy, and it is almost impossible to find a seat, and Nardole uses it as an opportunity to set you and the Doctor up.

A/N: I just finished reading a duology recently (Crier’s War, amazing) so, inspired by that, this will be a duology too! The next and final part will be out same time next week. (this part hasn’t be edited due to technically difficulties).

The Doctor wasn’t kidding when he said this fair was home to the “best candy floss in the universe”. The area in front of the booth was packed, with people squished up against each other like it was a mosh pit, and not like it was a queue for candy floss.

You stood on your tiptoes, trying to reach the Doctor’s height as the pair of you scanned for somewhere the four of you could sit. It was no use, the Doctor was standing on a box.

“Which is cheating, by the way,” You told him when you petulantly brought up the box again. You had to shout to be heard, the crowd around you was deafening. “You’re tall enough as it is.”

Above you, the Doctor huffed. “I’ve got better eyesight than you, it’s schematics.”

“Uh huh,” you sighed under your breath, then gripped onto his arm so you could balance yourself.

The fair was lively, to say the least. The candy floss booth was in the centre of what seemed to be a food court - if that’s what you could even call it. There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it, with different shacks set up in a hodgepodge collection, and a myriad of tents scattered behind, where, you assumed, people could eat and relax. It was loud, and you heard snatches of conversation from a family passing by, but you paid little attention to it.

You nudged the Doctor’s box with your shoe, belatedly wondering where the hell he’d found the thing. “So it’s not just your incessant need to be bigger, taller, and more important than everyone else then?”

The Doctor looked down at you. “Y/N,” he said, utterly aghast. “I don’t need to stand on a box for that.”

You rolled your eyes at that, trying not to grin. “So Doctor, what do your elven eyes see?”

The Doctor screwed up his face, his eyebrows hiding his eyelashes. “My what?” He groaned. “Really? Lord of the Rings?”

“The Uruks have turned northeast,” Bill cried out, running up beside you. You turned to see where Nardole was, who was slowly bumbling his way up to you all. “They are taking the hobbits to Isengard!”

You laughed in delight. “You’ve read Lord of the Rings?”

“Nah,” she said. “Saw the movies though.” Bill was bubbling, bouncing up and down on the spot. She must have been really excited to try this candy floss.

You didn’t blame her, apparently it changed colours.

Nardole came up beside you, giving Bill a slight look of disbelief. “The movies, only the movies?”

“Arwen,” Bill said. “Need I say more.”

You hummed in agreement, she was completely right, after all.

You put your feet back firmly on the ground. “So what did you guys find?”

“Well,” Nardole said. “There’s good news and annoying news.”

“That’s not really how the phrase works, but continue.”

“They’ve got tables for us,” Bill said. “The Doctor was right, we just waved the psychic paper at them and boom, instant tables.”

“Tables,” the Doctor said. “No, that won’t work.”

“That’s where the annoying news comes in,” Nardole said.

You gave Bill a look of bafflement, one that she returned. “Alright,” You turned to look up at the Doctor. “What’s wrong with tables?”

“Tables, as in plural,” The Doctor clarified. “Not what we want.”

“Yeah,” Nardole drew out the word. “They don’t have space for a group of four, they only have space for two groups of two.”

Bill shrugged. “I’m honestly fine with it, I just want to try this candy floss.”

“Yeah alright, I’m good with it too then,” You tugged the Doctor’s coat, getting his attention. “I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. We can split up.”

The Doctor grumbled something, you caught snatches of it, something about it not being the experience he wanted, but the crowd was so loud that you couldn’t completely make it out.

“Well,” Nardole clapped his hands together. “Let’s go.”

You yanked the Doctor, causing him to stumble off the box, and the pair of you followed Nardole and Bill. You sidestepped people in the crowd, trying not to trip on the uneven dirt path, and soon arrived at the tent.

A security guard glanced over the four of you, nodded at Nardole, and pulled the flap of the tent back.

“Oh,” you gasped as you went inside. It was… well, it was beautiful. The inside of the tent was a rich mahogany, and was lined with golden embroidery which snaked its way into the roof. The great big pole holding the tent up was a dusty gold, which looked worn down by age.

There were dozens of voices that littered the area, but it wasn’t nearly as loud as it was outside, you could hear yourself think, you could hear yourself breathe.

The smell of sugar hit your nose as you spun around, trying to take in everything all at once, from the white tables, the myriad of rugs that littered the floor, and the floating candle trays that dotted the tent and lit up the room. The smell was sweet and slightly tangy, and was pretty foreign to you.

You loved it, you absolutely loved it.

You turned to the Doctor with a grin. “This is incredible,” you gushed. “Completely incredible.”

“Yeah,” Bill said, her face split into a wide, overjoyed smile of her own. “Thank you so much for this.”

The Doctors face broke out into a small smile at your reactions. “I’m pretty good at ideas, so I’ve been told.”

Nardole gave you a considered look, and you tried not to squirm under his gaze. “Hey Bill,” he said, still looking at you. “Wanna buddy up?”

You narrowed your eyes at Nardole. He did not just do that.

Bill shrugged. “Yeah sure, alright. You’re getting the candy floss for us though, yeah?”

“Could you get some for all of us?” The Doctor asked, his gaze focusing on you.

“Yeah of course,” Nardole winked at you, giving you a wry smirk, and you glared at him. “C’mon Bill,” he said, completely satisfied with the outcome. “Let’s find our table.”

You watched them walk off for a moment, trying to shake off whatever awkward tension had grown between you and the Doctor. It was in your head right? It had to be in your head. Then it dawned on you. “Oh my god we don’t know where our table is.”

You and the Doctor stared at each other for a moment before you burst into laughter. The Doctor chuckled with you, and stood to your side.

“If I had to guess,” he said. “I’d say it would be that table there,” he pointed at one of the only tables that was deserted, and it was pretty close to Nardole and Bills table.

You nudged his side. “It’s rude to point.”

“Ah yes, duly noted.”

You had barely sat down when you noticed it. You had been looking around the room, enthusing over just how breath-taking the embroidered detail was on the tent, or the wonder in the various different people were here, from their clothes, their alien antennae, and their odd cords that they used for communication.

Bill was ramrod straight in her chair. There was a stranger standing across from her, leaning against Nardole’s chair. Bill was giving the stranger an impossibly fake smile, the kind of smile you hadn't realised she was capable of.

Then again, Bill worked in the food service industry, so you really should have known better.

You felt the Doctor tense beside you, and in an instant he was suddenly standing, pulling you up with him. You were disorientated for a moment, finding your footing before you tried to work out why the hell you were both standing.

He was glaring at the stranger, his eyebrows screwed up into his patented (or, well, if they weren’t patented, they really should be) 'attack eyebrows'.

Oh no.

He took a step forward and you reached out to stop him. It had surprised you, lately, that he let you touch him as much as you now did. He let his hand fall over yours for a second, acknowledging your presence. "What are you doing?" You hissed, trying to stay silent so you didn't draw the attention of the mingling crowds that were around you.

He gestured to the stranger. "That woman-"

You slapped his hand. "No pointing."

He turned to face you, doing what you assumed he presumed was a glare but, honestly, was more like a pout. "-Is saying some incredibly harmful things, and I'm going to stop it."



You cursed his timelord hearing and placed your hand on his chest, holding him back so you could gauge Bill’s body language, the last thing you wanted was to cause a scene.

Bills jaw was set and it looked as though her smile was plastered on. Beyond that, she looked like she had the situation well in hand.

You looked at the Doctor, mustering your best stern expression. "Bill’s capable, you know she is. You don’t need to rush in and play hero, that’s not what she always needs. Let’s just sit with her and provide support, have her back."

The Doctor’s face fell into a genuine pout as he weighed up your suggestion – it was actually pretty adorable. Then he rolled his eyes. “Yes, alright, fine. You’ve got a point.”

He stalked forward and you followed, heading to the table. He walked around the table so he was on the far side, and you slid in on the closest side. It meant that the pair of you were sitting either side of Bill, flanking her. Moral support.

You squeezed her leg under the table, and she looked to you in gratitude. 



"Hello, I don't think we've met," The Doctor said, sticking his hand out to the stranger. "I'm the Doctor."



You frowned at his outstretched hand, since when did the Doctor shake hands? The stranger took his hand and immediately winced. You almost groaned as the stranger took her hand back, cradling it in the other.

Ah okay, so a power play. That was why the Doctor was suddenly shaking hands.

“And you are?” She asked, nodding to you.

“Hm?” You placed your elbow on the table, leaning your hand onto your fist. “Oh sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you lied, and you felt Bill stifle a laugh beside you. “Could you repeat what you said?”

The stranger blinked a few times, straightened her smile, then cleared her throat. In that order. It was quite disconcerting. “I said my name is Karen, and you are?”

Karen. Huh, okay. So the stereotype transcended planets, apparently.

You introduced yourself, not offering your hand. “So” you continued, and you knew you had been behaving a bit rudely, so you aimed to be more polite. Bill didn’t need a hero. “What are you doing here?"

"Well," Karen sat down opposite the three of you, taking Nardole’s seat. Bill tensed beside you and it was clear to you that Karen had never been offered that seat. "We were discussing, oh, I'm sorry, I really have forgotten. What was it you called it?"

Bill stuck her chin out, her eyes going slightly manic as her smile grew. "The LGBTQ+ community."



Karen chuckled, it sounded hollow and empty. "Ah that's right, the LGB, C, D, E, F G+ community," she laughed again and the sound crawled down your spine. Okay, so this is what the Doctor meant when he said 'incredibly harmful things'.

You reached your hand that was under the table across Bills lap and held the Doctor knee. You heard his chair squeak slightly, and you knew he was relaxing back into the chair.

No heroics.

"I was just asking your friend here earlier," Karen continued. "You do realise it's a sickness don't you?"

You blinked, pursing your lips slightly. You felt for Bills hand, which was clenched in a fist, and rested yours over it.

Right, so apparently alien planets had homophobes too.

You followed Bills lead, you could humour this woman.

"Are you sick?" You asked, and you forced yourself to sound curious, genuinely interested, like you had actually misunderstood what she had said. "Maybe you should go home then, rest up?"

Karen rolled her eyes and gave you a condescending smile. "No silly, I'm saying your friend is unnatural."

You took in a heavy breath, anger spiking in your chest. You squeezed Bill’s hand again, and nudged her shoulder lightly. Contact was the kind of thing that was important in times like this, it was grounding.

You heard the Doctor’s chair screech and you tapped his foot with yours. It squeaked again and in the corner of your eye you saw his fluffy head sit back.

Bill touched her face lightly, frowning slightly. "Hm, no, sorry," She put her hand onto the table. "I've never had work done, not that there's anything wrong with it of course-"

"See, you were doing this earlier,” Karen’s voice was completely patronising, sticky sweet and awful. “I thought your friends here would give you more sense," She was gripping the table cloth, her knuckles white. "I'm saying, as a woman, which you are – right, that you should be with a man."

You felt sick, it was as though her words were manifesting themselves into actual dirt and grime, then caking you in it. It was grotty.

"Like a bodyguard?" The Doctor asked, catching onto what Bill was doing, what she had probably been doing this whole time, before either you or the Doctor had arrived.

God she was wonderful, you were so proud of her.

Bill nudged your shoulder and you followed her lead, staring at the Doctor with her. "Do you mean him?" She stuck her thumb out to the Doctor, who blinked at the pair of you in confusion. "Because he's not really a bodyguard, he’s more like… a taxi driver."

"No," She spat, then visibly stopped herself. She was leaning into the table and you watched her sit back, fixing her posture and painting on that ridiculous fake smile. “I’m saying," she enunciated the words very slowly. "You should be with a man, for a partner."

"What would I need a partner for," Bill laughed but it was a bit forced "I'm not given any group assignments these days, just a lot of essays."



"The essays I give you are great though," The Doctor defended, which bubbled out an actual laugh from both you and Bill.

Karen groaned so loudly that it almost sounded like a screech. "Oh you two are no better than her, are you?"



Bill seemed exhausted, and it was then that you realised that this had probably gone on far enough. There was only so long you could go irritating a homophobe before it started to drain on your own mental health too.

"If you're looking for prejudice in this squad you're not going to find it, if that's what you mean." You said simply, plainly. It was a challenge though, she knew it was a challenge, everyone at the table knew it was a challenge.

The Doctor poked his head above Bills to look at you, screwed up his face in confusion, and a mouthed the word 'squad' at you.

You waved him off with the hand that had been supporting your head.

“The difference between you and I,” Bill said. “Is that I’ve got an actual understanding of what love is. And once you learn that, it’s freeing, it’s – it’s liberating.”

Bill leaned into the table slightly, looking at Karen with sincere remorse. “You’re never gonna have that, and I’m so sorry for you.

“As long as you stay trapped in your own prejudice, you’ll never get to learn or experience the full vastness and depth that love has to offer.

“And that’s gotta be the most awful thing someone could ever face. You’re gonna miss out on all these different amazing people, and all these different wonderful experiences – and you’re never even gonna know.

“And you know what the worst thing is; that’s on you. Not me or anyone else, just you.”

Karen swallowed, her bottom lip quivering. You didn’t blame her, Bill’s speech – just, wow, it had been something else. You were insanely impressed, Bill had such a brilliant way with words, and this innate sense of compassion inside her, you couldn’t imagine anyone else conceptualising and saying anything like she had.

“If you could please leave my friend alone now,” the Doctor said, trying to cut through the heavy blanket that was laid over you all. “That’d be appreciated.”

Karen huffed, standing abruptly and stalking off.

The Doctor popped his lips together and turned to you. “Wanna head back outside?”

Bill swallowed, nodding slightly. “Uh – yeah, um, that’s a good idea.”

You wrapped your arm around her, squeezing her against you. “Hey, you did really good there, freakin brilliant. That speech was something else.”

Bill leaned into you. “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

The Doctor pulled out his glasses, tapping away at the side of the rims. “I’ll let Nardole know.”

[curlynerd]

Happy Birthday Dean

Dean yawned as he padded down the bunker hallway in socked feet. He wished that was a sign of impending sleep, but unfortunately insomnia plagued him tonight. He hoped a glass of milk and a small snack would help him along.

But the kitchen light was on, and he could hear someone moving around in there. He frowned. Sam went to bed hours ago. Cas too, since he needed his beauty rest now that he was human. Jack was almost certainly engrossed in his newest Minecraft addiction.

So Dean tensed. He thought about going back to his room for a gun, but he knew it was almost certainly one of the other men, probably also searching for a midnight snack. Still, he crept as quietly as he could and peered around the corner, just to be safe.

It was only Cas, standing with his back turned to Dean, an unholy mess on the counter in front of him, hunched over watching something on his phone.

Dean relaxed and smiled. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he said as he swaggered into the kitchen. Cas jumped, sending a canister of spices toppling over and spilling on the counter and across his apron. Correction, Dean’s apron. Dean’s grin widened.

“Dean!” Cas whirled around and clutched the counter behind him with his arms spread as wide as possible, like he could block the entire thing with his body. Dean raised an eyebrow. Suspicious. “What are you doing up?”

“A guy can’t grab a bite from his own kitchen?” Dean advanced on him, and Cas pressed up against the counter. Definitely trying to hide something. “Whatcha got going on over here, Julia Child?” Dean tried to lean around Cas, who tilted right there alongside him, but Dean could see flour, butter, brown sugar, and a big bag of apples.

“I’m just making a snack,” Cas huffed. His irritated sulk did nothing to cover up the unmistakable suspicion of his body language, nor the panicked flicker in his bright blue eyes.

“Mighty involved snack for two in the morning,” Dean remarked, undaunted. He kept dancing around Cas until Cas had no choice but to either let him see or shove him away. Cas chose the former, though he rolled his eyes spectacularly. There was a large lump of...well something. It was limp and soggy and had large, visible lumps of butter dotted throughout the flour mess. “Baking?”

Cas folded his arms. His black sleeping shirt was a mess of flour. His dark hair was dusted with white too. Dean bit his lip to fight down his own grin at how tragic and adorable he looked. “I can’t tell you.”

Well that caught Dean’s attention. “Why not?” he challenged, staring Cas down. 

Cas squinted at him and turned his lips down in his own very serious version of a pout. “It’ll ruin the surprise.”

Dean blinked. “Surprise? What--” And then he remembered what tomorrow was. “This for my birthday?”

Cas let out a beleaguered sigh. “You weren’t supposed to find out until morning.”

Warmth spread through Dean’s chest. Cas was baking something for him? He tried to squash down the tickling joy and chuckled. “Cas, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but that’s the worst attempt at a cake I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s going to be pie,” Cas said, his deep voice even heavier than usual with petulant remorse.

“Pie?” Now Dean was interested. He looked down at the pastry blob on the counter. “That’s never going to bake right.”

“Yes. Thank you. I was able to deduce that myself.” Cas turned back to his disaster. “I was trying to find a video to help fix it.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “I think you might have to scrap it and start over.”

Cas shook his head. “Nonsense. I just need to cut in more flour. The YouTube video says so.”

“You gonna trust some mommy blogger over me?”

“Absolutely.”

Ten minutes of bickering and one triumphant “I told you so” from Cas later, and their mostly correct-looking pastry dough was chilling in the fridge. Somehow Dean also wound up with flour all over his chest and pajama bottoms. Cas tried to give him his apron back, but Dean insisted he keep it on. Any opinions on how silly and domestic Cas looked in an apron were wisely kept to himself.

Dean clapped his hands together. A tiny puff cloud of flour ghosted around them. “Alright. Step one done. What next? The apples?” He patted Cas’ shoulder and grinned at the white handprint he left behind. “You peel, I’ll start measuring out the other ingredients.” Dean flashed his most innocent smile, feeling pretty smug that he’d pawned off the least desirable task on Cas. Cas eyed him for only a second, suspicious, before he went to work.

Dean first focused on wiping up the mess of cinnamon Cas had made when Dean came in and startled him. Once that was done he chanced a glance to Cas, who was mangling the hell out of his apple with the paring knife. Dean tisked at him. “Man, what’re you doing? You’re gonna peel off your own skin!” Dean reached over and yanked the knife from Cas’ hand. “Who the hell taught you how to use a blade?”

Cas handed the apple to Dean. “I was created with that knowledge,” he remarked dryly.

“Well we all know Chuck sucked at teaching anything.” Cas rolled his eyes, but Dean caught the tiny smile on his lips at Dean’s antics. Dean grinned as he held the apple and knife in front of him with a flourish. “Like this, man. Don’t slice off half the apple with the peel.” Dean demonstrated while Cas leaned in close to observe him. Dean could feel the warmth of his body practically touching him, distractingly close and smelling like his soap and the cinnamon all over his apron. Dean almost nicked himself. He cleared his throat and hastily shoved his supplies back into Cas’ hands. “You try.”

He only watched for about ten seconds before Dean was back to scolding Cas. “No that’s even worse! Your thumb is too close. Here--” And without thinking about it, Dean shuffled in closer and curled his hand around Cas’ to carefully arrange his grip. “Like this.”

Castiel went very, very still. “Of...Of course, Dean,” he said, but his voice was tense and even deeper than normal, like he was doing everything in his power to keep it steady and sure. Dean looked up at his face, but Cas’ eyes were locked on their hands.

Dean yanked his hand away like it was electrocuted. He tried to cover his tracks by clearing his throat and rubbing them over his thighs. “Anyway. Uh. Yeah. Hold it like that.” 

Something quiet and sad flickered across Cas’ eyes, making Dean’s racing heart drop into his stomach. Dean forced a smile until Cas turned back to his peeling.

The silence in the kitchen was heavy. Memories of Cas’ confession weighed down the air, pressing against Dean and keeping him from saying anything more. His own fears choked him. Fears that Cas didn’t mean what he’d said, not in the way Dean wanted him to. And especially not now that he was human, with a human’s feelings, and a human’s experience and all of the mess and confusion and resentment that came with it.

Besides, Cas didn’t deserve someone broken like Dean. And Dean didn’t deserve someone amazing like Cas.

Because at the very least, Cas deserved someone who could look him in the eye when reminded of the fact that he loved him.

Dean scrubbed at his hair and bit back a sigh.

“If you’re just standing around, you can at least slice these,” Cas said, his voice steady and calm again, slicing through the awkward silence and Dean’s pitiful thoughts with the same ease as he cut through the apple peels now that Dean had shown him how. He held out a naked apple for Dean.

Dean immediately grabbed at the lifeline he was given. “You gonna make me cut my own apples for my own birthday pie, Cas?”

Cas’ gaze was unimpressed. “Yes.” He pressed the apple into Dean’s hand and turned back to his own task. Dean made a face at his serious profile, but did as he was told.

The silence surrounding them shifted gradually, moving from awkward to comfortable as they settled into something familiar, working side-by-side, not needing to say a word to fill the quiet between them.

After the third apple, thinly sliced and placed into a big mixing bowl, Dean chanced a glance at Cas. At this angle he could see wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, a clear sign of his humanity. Underneath them the skin was dark and heavy. He was obviously tired. But his eyes were still as bright as the day Dean met him, now shining with a quiet light of contentment.

Dean didn’t understand it 

How could someone look so happy just standing next to him? How could Cas, a former angel, find peace and purpose in doing something so humble?

Yet here he was, baking Dean a pie in the middle of the freaking night. Using his own two hands to make a nice surprise for his birthday. Dean couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something like this for him. Maybe never. Even Mary’s pies were store bought.

Dean smiled as warm sunshine settled in his chest. Perhaps it didn’t matter if Dean understood it all, because Cas was happy where he was no matter what Dean thought. 

Cas must have sensed a shift in his posture, because he glanced over to him. “What?” He tilted his head at Dean. Dean shook his head a little and didn’t answer, only let his smile grow as he turned back to the apples. In the corner of his eye, he could see Cas still staring at him, but Cas didn’t press for more, and after a moment he returned to his peeling. When Dean glanced at him again, he was smiling too.

They worked in easy silence until the apples were all peeled and sliced. They bickered again as they made the filling, Cas insisting they follow the recipe to the letter while Dean insisted that no, it needed at least twice as much cinnamon. Dean won that round by playing the birthday card. As he rolled out the pie crust, Cas made a few passive aggressive comments about how following the recipe saved the pastry. And when Dean countered by looking him dead in the eye and adding even more cinnamon to the filling, Cas gifted him with a rare laugh that made Dean’s chest swell with smug pride and golden warmth.

They fell back into easy silence while Cas carefully lined their pie tin with pastry. Dean spooned the filling into the tin, packing in as much as he could. While Cas carefully laid the top crust over it and finished things off, Dean helped himself to the leftover slices of crunchy, spicy, sweetened apples.

“Damn Cas, I think I’ve outdone myself this time,” he said with an impertinent wink as Cas slid the pie into the preheated oven and set their kitchen timer. He held out a bite for Cas. “Try it. It’s awesome.”

“Dean, you’re not supposed to eat raw flour.”

Dean rolled his eyes and held up the fork even higher. “Quit being a baby, baby.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed, but he rose to Dean’s baiting. He wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s hand and maneuvered the bite of apple into his mouth. Dean’s heart skipped a beat as he watched his lips move, watched his tongue flick out to catch a speck of brown sugar. Dean’s pulse jumped into his throat.

“Very good,” Cas said with the patient duty of one who was humoring him. “But it will taste much better when it’s baked.” His hand was still wrapped around Dean’s wrist, but Dean hardly noticed. All he could pay attention to was the soft pink color of Cas’ lips as he smiled gently. The dark circles under his eyes, indicating he should have gone to bed hours ago, but he didn’t. He stayed up half the night to bake Dean a pie. To do something kind. Just for him. No expectation in return, just the desire to give Dean a happy surprise on his birthday.

Dean’s eyes fell back to Cas’ lips. He knew they’d taste like cinnamon.

So Dean didn’t think. He didn’t let his doubts take hold. He didn’t allow his own self-destructive fears stop him. He just acted.

Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel.

The kiss was gentle at first, little more than a soft brush of warm lips. He felt rather than heard Cas’ stunned gasp against his mouth, and Dean kissed him again. Dean half expected Cas to push him back. To demand an explanation. To tell him he was wrong about what Cas wanted or how he felt. 

He also half expected Cas to dive in head first. No plan, not knowing what he was doing, only trusting blindly, the way Cas so often did. Satisfaction rumbled in Dean's chest when Cas picked the latter.

The fork they were holding clattered to the floor as Cas threw his arms around Dean with reckless determination. Dean’s bubbling laugh interrupted their kiss, but only for a moment. He gripped Cas at his waist, using the tie strings of his apron to pull him forward until their bodies were pressed together.

Cas’ lips were cinnamon sweet, his mouth warm and inviting as Dean slipped his tongue inside with a soft sigh. Dean let his hands wander, up Cas’ back, down his thick arms, carding through his hair, and soon Cas did the same. They kissed until the kitchen timer started shrieking at them, reluctantly pulling them apart. Cas’ hair was wild, the flour almost completely brushed out of it by now. His lips were wet and kiss-bruised, their lovely pale pink now dark. Dean knew he wasn’t much better himself. The front of his pajamas were now stained with cinnamon from Cas’ apron. He was almost certain there were floury handprints on his ass.

He beamed at Cas and reached for the oven mitts. “Time for the big reveal.”

The pie was burnt at the edges, imperfect and too full, with filling bubbling out of the slits and leaving sticky syrup all over the top crust. But Dean grinned at it like it was the most beautiful pie he’d ever seen. “Hey, when’s the next state fair?” he joked as he set it on the metal counter to cool and turned the oven off. 

Cas was staring at him with awe and disbelief and so, so much love. It twisted in Dean’s chest, warm and comforting and terrifying in equal measure, and for once Dean didn’t force himself to push those feelings back down. Cas loved him. Wholly, unconditionally, knowing everything that Dean had done, everything Dean had been through. He loved him through all of that, without any expectations beyond what Dean was capable of giving him. 

And at forty-two, Dean was too damn old to keep pretending he didn’t love Cas the same way Cas so clearly loved him.

He stepped in close. Cas raised his hands like he wanted to reach out and touch Dean again, but he hesitated, so Dean settled his hands on Cas’ waist and waited for Cas to rest his hands on the small of his back. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He watched the light in Cas’ eyes soften into something sweet and fond. “For the pie,” he added, the giddiness in his heart making it difficult to stay quiet. He cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s great. It’s…” But Dean didn’t have the words to describe how much it all meant to him. How much Cas meant to him. So he leaned in and kissed Cas again, slow and tender. He smiled when he pulled back, and the grin on Cas’ face made it clear he understood everything Dean couldn’t say.

Dean dragged Cas back to his bedroom, where they continued to miss out on some much needed sleep. Some things were worth a little sleep deprivation. But when Dean woke up on the morning of his birthday with Cas resting his head on his chest, looking soft and peaceful and warm, he decided this was the best part of it all.

The pie didn't make it past noon. Not with Dean insisting that it was his birthday and he could eat whatever he wanted for breakfast. And brunch. And lunch.

Sam complained that he didn't save a slice for Eileen, but that was alright. When she showed up that night for pizza and games, she came bearing a tray of rice krispie treats dotted with birthday candles. She didn't even make it all the way down the stairs before Dean wrapped her in a gleeful bear hug.

[thestupidhelmet]

Hey there, can you pls help a fellow writer? Here's the thing: I've been writing T70S fanfic for a while, and I feel that I'm managing to keep the characters in character, writing dialogue and their thoughts is easy for me now, but I'm having a whole lot of trouble with their body language.

For instance, when Jackie's really happy or excited about something, she claps her hands enthusiastically, smiles and gives those small adorable jumps. I've seen her doing that on the show and I try to bring that to my stories, but I'm having trouble writing her body language in other situations.

And that's a problem I'm having with all the characters. Like, I know Kelso and Eric both tend to gesticulate a lot with their hands when they're excited about something, but I don't know how to write them when they're scared, or sad, etc. Does that even make sense?

Anyways, I have no trouble writing about the character's feelings, I do have trouble when they need to express their feelings with something other than words, usually, their body language.

I want to give each character their own unique way to express themselves through their body. Like, Hyde and Eric, for example, will behave differently when they're like, really happy or really sad.

Hyde is not the type of guy that claps when he's really excited about something, he's a chill guy and he's the one I struggle the most to write when he's experiencing a strong emotion.

What I mean to ask is: can you give me some tips? I'm really struggling with this. Sorry if this was way too long, I don't even know if this ask made sense to you, but... well, I just could really use some help.

Hi! For my own T7S stories, I’ve made specific choices for the characters’ (emotional) body language based on my understanding / interpretation of who they are, and you can do the same. You’ve obviously observed quite a bit from the actors’ performances from the show, but I’ll describe body language you might not have spotted.

Jackie

She displays a variety of behaviors when she’s sad or upset, depending on what lies underneath her sadness. It also changes depending on her life experiences (basically, how many times her heart has been broken and by whom). You’ll find some commonalities in her body language when she’s upset, however.

When she feels hopeless or is grieving, she stays relatively still, sitting in one spot. She’ll hug a pillow or pick at a stuffed animal’s ear until her feelings overwhelm her. Then she’ll full-out cry while continuing to stay in one spot and picking at whatever she’s grabbed for comfort. See “Ski Trip” (1x13).

As she experiences more heartbreak, her stillness remains when she’s upset. She’ll stare off into the distance while crying. But unlike in “Ski Trip,” she sometimes cries silently. See “Kelso’s Serenade” (2x21).

When she’s depressed, she loses affect in her voice. Her movements are slower. See “Jackie Moves On” (2x22).

When she’s fighting to be understood -- whether she’s angry or sad or wanting desperately for someone to do something specific  -- she becomes animated. She makes pleading gestures with her hands. She’ll also place her hand on her heart.

When she’s fighting for her life -- her emotional life / happiness -- she’ll let snot run down her face while trying to get the other person to understand her needs. See “Don’t Lie to Me” (7x12).

When frustrated, she’ll slap her leg, slam a door after leaving a room, or even kick or pinch the other person. (No! Bad, Jackie!) See “Nobody’s Fault but Mine” (5x23) and “The Immigrant Song” (5x24).

When annoyed or disgusted, she’ll grunt or lean her head back -- or do both at once. With Eric, she’s also sneered. (Too many examples exist to list a specific episode.)

When she’s trying to coax someone to doing what she wants, she’ll do a subtle shoulder shimmy (which I bet she picked up from her mom). She’s done this with Hyde and, I think, Donna. See “Kelso’s Serenade” (2x21) for an example with Hyde.

When she has a sudden idea she thinks is important, she’ll gasp and put her hand on Donna, Kelso, or Hyde’s knee (depending on whom she’s talking to).

Jackie will rub a person’s knee or arm as an expression of emotional support. She’ll also lean her temple against a friend’s (or lovers) when she’s feeling affectionate toward them.

Honestly, I could keep on listing body language for her. But you can find it yourself by watching the episodes. Find an episode where Jackie experiences a specific emotion you’re looking to write into your own story and see how it’s portrayed. This advice stands for the rest of the characters, but I’ll list some body language for them, too.

Kelso

When he’s scared, he closes in on himself physically, trying to make himself a small as possible. He also shakes while doing this. Or he’ll scream. Or he’ll shove someone -- even a person he supposedly loves -- out of the way to get himself to safety. He’ll also find someplace to hide if he feels it’s necessary, usually under a pierce of furniture.

When he’s sad, he’ll cry. Sometimes he’ll hug something with sentimental value to his chest, like a photograph while crying. Or he’ll rip apart something symbolic of how he’s feeling, like a cookie shaped heart.

If feelings of anger or loneliness are mixed into his sadness, he’ll sometimes cry but it’s less forceful. He’ll slump to the couch.

If he feels particularly betrayed, he won’t look at the person who hurt him while in that person’s presence, even if they’re talking to each other.

When anger and betrayal mix, he’ll get physically violent -- usually, but not always, to his own detriment. He’ll run into a screen door then yank it off its hinges. He’ll shoot someone with a BB gun, etc.

When he’s confused, he often stares blankly with a strange expression on his face.

Eric

When he’s scared, the pitch of his voice rises. He’ll swallow more. Sometimes he stutters. He’ll fidget. He’ll look from side to side. He becomes hypervigilant of his surroundings.

Eric often expresses his anger either directly or passive-aggressively. When direct, he’ll shout his feelings and thoughts or speak them at a louder volume than normal. He’s not particularly cruel in what he says.

When passive-aggressive, he’ll smirk smugly while or after making a sharp insult. He’ll rest his hands on his hips or hook his hand / thumbs in his pants pockets in between gesturing. He’ll also laugh smugly while sticking out his tongue then blow a raspberry. This last sequence of behavior seems to be one he and Hyde share, so maybe one of them picked it up from the other while growing up.

If frustration is mixed with his anger, he’ll shout and shove furniture around.

When feeling a particularly overwhelming emotion, whether pleasant or unpleasant, he tends to get on the hood of the Vista Cruiser and look up at the sky. If deeply upset, he might cry silently and slam his fist onto the car’s hood. See “The Promise Ring” (3x25).

After making a devastating choice he believes is right but breaks his heart, he’ll shove his hands in his pockets, look down at the floor or his shoes, and stay quiet. See “Love, Wisconsin Style” (4x27).

The quality of Eric’s voice often reveals a lot about his emotional state. He’ll speak really quietly, not whispering, but as if trying not to scare away a doe when delivering bad news.

Fez

Fez is relatively open and direct with his emotional expression. When he’s sad, he cries. When he’s angry, he shouts. When he’s hurt-angry, he might cry-shout. When he’s happy, he might sing a song and/or do a little dance. Or he’ll hug and kiss his friends (male and female) when he’s grateful.

He’s generally not afraid to speak his mind. If his feelings are particularly intense, he’ll demonstrate his emotional state with a physical display (e.g., ”You dump Fez? I dump fries! There’s your scene!”)

When he’s scared, however, he sometimes pulls in emotionally to protect himself. He won’t speak his mind. Or he’ll clasp his hand in prayer, look up, and ask God for help or answers. He might disregard another person’s boundaries to feel safer (see “Ski Trip” when he’s cold). On the opposite end of the spectrum, he can become obsessive (e.g., calling Eric at three in the morning to ask if they’re still friends).

Fez tends to keep his hands on his hips a lot, regardless of what he’s feeling at any given moment. It’s one of his characterizing personality quirks.

Donna

When she’s angry, she can yell her feelings or an insult (or both). Or completely swallow her anger and talk / act as if she’s fine. She’ll stomp away after an argument, whether up a flight of stairs or to her yard. In season 3, she also takes on a quality of becoming emotionally distant and dismissive, which is reflected in her body language by maintaining a physical distance while looking the other person squarely in the eye.

When she’s sad, she’s doesn’t tend to cry. She’ll talk about what’s upsetting her with emotion in her voice. She’ll gesture with her hands or bite her thumbnail. If she’s discussing her feelings with Eric, she’ll hug him.

When she’s depressed, her posture slumps.

When she’s terrified or feeling betrayed, that’s when she’ll cry. She might reach out to the other person (Eric) with her hand.

Donna tends to act out and/or become self-destructive when she’s feels powerless. Her body language gains a swagger (her walk, her facial expressions, her tone of voice).

If she’s happy, she’ll gesture in excitement with both hands. She smiles and laughs, too, while explaining what’s made her happy. 

Donna will hug friends and family to show emotional support.

Hyde

Hyde does not like people knowing how he’s feeling at any given moment, whether it’s happy, angry, sad, etc. But he does express emotion through body language.

When he’s nervous and he’s sitting, his leg might bounce or his foot will shake. More often, though, he’ll cross his arms over his chest protectively. This latter behavior is true for many of his emotions.

He’ll pace when he’s conflicted. Or stand still and pinch the bridge of his nose while considering all the variables of his internal conflict. He’s very careful when speaking or purposely revealing his (emotional) truth, and he might take a few breaths before actually saying it aloud. 

He’ll also pace and scratch the back of his head he’s antsy or edgy.

Generally, though, he tries hard to suppress his feelings. This often makes him stand stiffly with his arms dangling still at his sides.

When he’s amused, he doesn’t hide it. He’ll chuckle or laugh. If he’s very amused, he’ll laugh hard and press his hands against his stomach. If he’s laughing that hard with a friend, he’ll hold onto that friend for support while lowering his head.

He’s rarely happy, but with Jackie he is. His joy beams out of him like sunlight. See his private moment with Jackie at the start of “Magic Bus” (6x03) and the circle scene with Jackie in “I’m A Boy” (6x08) for examples.

He’ll hug his male friends when they’ve been gone for months or they’re about to leave for a long time. He’ll also hug Kitty and Red when he feels happy for or grateful to them.

That being said, he doesn’t like when people hug him spontaneously. Depending on who’s doing the hugging, he’ll either shove them off angrily (Kelso, Fez, and Eric), endure the hug until he figures out how to make it stop (Kitty), or even panic a little (Roy). Hyde has to be the initiator or co-initiator of the hug. He likely feels trapped and out of control otherwise, which makes sense considering the physical abuse he experienced from his mom.

He’ll clasp or sling his arm around a friend’s shoulder in camaraderie or support.

If you’d like more advice about showing character emotion through body language, I recommend The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide To Character Expression by Becca Puglisi and Angela Ackerman.

I hope this post helps! :D

[mx-ishikawa]

Pieces Of Us (2): Defend

Finally got the second installment of this series done! there's a little violence in this one but it's LEGO violence so it's not that bad XD" takes place in between the first and second movies~

           The Duplo wasn’t hard to miss. It was ginormous, with bright flashy colors covering its surface. But I wasn’t. I was carefully hidden among the buildings, watching its every move. It was terrorizing the people and destroying everything it decided it wanted to destroy. Jeez, this situation in Bricksburg was even worse than I thought. I mean, everybody was experiencing Duplo attacks, but the people of Bricksburg were hit by far the hardest, to the point where they had to adopt a whole new lifestyle centered around survival and constantly keeping the invaders at bay. But I had been training for this for over two years now.

           Ever since the first Duplo attack on Bricksburg, all I had wanted was to help fight off the invaders. If I couldn’t be a Master Builder, I felt I should at least contribute to the fight in some way or another. I had always struggled with finding my place in the world, and never felt like I fit in anywhere, so I felt that this would be my chance to finally make a name for myself. But since I was only sixteen at the time, I knew I had to finish school first. Thankfully, that gave me extra time to train and develop fighting skills. I did most of my weekend training in Gotham, since it seemed to be the only place out of all the realms that was devoid of Duplo attacks, and sometimes I was under the instruction of Batman himself. As a coach, Batman was strict and not very emotionally motivating, but he certainly knew his shit, so I was grateful to have him as a trainer. Also, he had a damn good taste in workout music.

           But I must admit that there was another reason I wanted to move to Bricksburg. And that reason’s name was Emmet Brickowski. I had already become fond of him in Cloud Cuckooland, but after getting separated from my dad during the raid and ending up alongside Emmet and Wyldstyle in the fight against Lord Business, I developed quite the crush on the heroic construction worker. I felt he was not all the negative things he initially described himself as; in fact, I found him much more brave, smart, skilled, and creative than he gave himself credit for. And even though he apparently lacked experience leading, I thought he was one of the best leaders I had ever seen in action. Never before had I seen someone corral a horde of Master Builders together the way he did. He had a strong voice, commanding but not cruel, and genuinely wanted to help. He had been torn from his old life and thrown into the ugly truth, adapted well, sacrificed himself and ended up gaining Master Builder abilities instead of dying, and saved the world—all without losing his kind-hearted character. And yet, he was completely humble about the whole thing, even saying that the prophecy was about everyone, not just himself. But what I admired most about him was his huge heart. Not once did he say anything bad about Lord Business, or anyone ever, and when the Duplos first came, he tried to make peace with them instead of jumping to fighting like everyone else wanted to do. It’s really no wonder why I fell for the guy. Though I didn’t really see him in the two years I trained, my heart still raced when I thought of him, and often wondered how he was doing. At the time, I thought it was just a silly schoolgirl crush, and that I’d surely wouldn’t feel much the next time I saw him. Boy how wrong I turned out to be…

           I quietly pulled my sword out from the holster on my back and began sneaking up on the Duplo. It was clearly more focused on thwarting the attacks from the citizens of Bricksburg. They were firing whatever they could at it—lasers, arrows, canons, you name it—but none of it affected the beast. If anything, it only became angrier. Though its anger was rather passive-aggressive: it giggled like a schoolgirl the more it was hit, but its body language made its true emotions clear. I scanned its back, looking for a weak spot I could target. Then I spotted a vertical crease in between the monster’s shoulders. Bingo.

           Being as swift as possible, I ran up to the Duplo, leaped into the air, and plunged my sword into the crease on the beast’s back. I heard a couple of cracking sounds as it screamed in agony, and it took all I had not to cover my ears and lose my grip. I held onto one of its shoulders, keeping the sword in place with my other hand, as the Duplo began spinning around in an effort to reach me. After a few rotations, it stopped as it realized that wasn’t working. I almost fell when it suddenly halted, but my reflexes luckily kicked in. Pulling my sword out, I kicked the alien monster right where I stabbed it, and down it went. My feet landed on top of it and I rose my sword to take a few whacks, but it swatted me away with one of its limbs. I heard a few gasps from the citizens as I flew backwards into a wall. I grunted in pain. That certainly wasn’t going to help my already existing back troubles. But I knew I couldn’t let the pain overtake me if I wanted to defeat this thing. So I lifted myself up and charged at it again, this time punching it square in the gut and bringing it down once more. It started to swing its limbs at me again, but it froze, likely in fear, as I held my sword directly to where its throat would’ve been if it had a noticeable neck. It whimpered like an upset child, and for a moment I almost felt sorry for the Duplo. But then I remembered this was one of the monsters that continually attacked our world for no apparent reason. I glared at it, leaning inward to try and assert dominance.

           “Get out,” I growled darkly, “or you’ll regret ever coming.”

           The Duplo glared back at me with its huge, almost pouty eyes. “You’re no fun,” it spoke in its childish voice. It rolled over, causing me to topple off, before leaving the scene and being beamed up into the mysterious spaceship it came from. I put my sword back in the holster and clapped my hands together, straightening myself out. I then turned around to find the citizens of Bricksburg all staring at me with various expressions. I shot them a cheeky, lopsided grin.

           “Thought you guys could use another fighter.”

           “Light?” a familiar voice gasped from the front of the crowd.

           “Ey, Wyldstyle!” I trudged up to her, and we hugged. “How’ve you been?”

           “What are you doing here?” she asked, dodging my question.

           “Come on, Wyld, you know I’ve been wanting to help you fight off these darn Duplos since the day they first came!”

           “How did you…” she struggled to find the words. “That… that was…”

           “That was AWESOME!”

           My heart shot up into my throat as my attention was drawn to the very object of my affections—Emmet.

           “Where did you learn to fight like that??” he excitedly inquired, running up to me. “Your swordsmanship is incredible!! Oh, and all those crazy kicks you were doing was sooooo cool! And when you hit that building I was afraid you were done for but you got back up! Wait, are you okay?? Gosh you must be in so much pain! How did you make such a fantastic comeback after getting hurt so badly?! Wow! You’re amazing!!!”

           “Okay Emmet, you’re impressed, we get it.” Wyldstyle pushed him out of the way so she could continue speaking to me. “You do realize what you’re getting yourself into, right?”

           I, however, had trouble speaking back up. Emmet thought that highly of my fighting? Emmet, the sweet and strong hero who saved the universe, thought I was amazing?? The guy I had been missing and crushing on for two years was really that impressed by unimpressive me? It was too good to be true.

           “Uhhh, yeah, of course I do! This stuff, this is a dangerous endeavor, but I’ve been training and honing my Duplo fighting techniques for two years, and now I’m finally ready to fight alongside you all in Bricksburg.”

           “Apocalypseburg.”

           “What?”

           “We’re actually calling it Apocalypseburg now,” Wyldstyle clarified.

           “Oh.” I scratched the back of my neck. “Of course. Leave it to me to never truly know what’s going on.”

           “So wait, let me get this straight,” Emmet interrupted our conversation once more. “You trained for two years, specifically so you could fight Duplos here?”

           “Exactamundo!” I made a “you got it” gesture. Emmet appeared very awestruck at this point; his wide eyes blinking in wonder and his mouth falling agape just a bit. A warm smile soon appeared on his face.

           “Wow… that’s really brave of you.”

           I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat as he looked up at me. Oh no, he’s even more adorable than I remembered. It was then that I realized that my crush on him hadn’t gone away even in the least bit.

           “I… well I mean, I figured I should give to the cause somehow. So uhh, here I am!”

           “Well now that you’re here…” Emmet paused to hold his hand out. “Welcome aboard!”

           I hesitated for a moment or two, because goddamn his face was way too adorable for his own good, before taking his outstretched hand and shaking it. I had to resist the urge to kiss his hand instead. “Thanks. I-it’s great to see you again, Emmet.”

           “Good to see you too, Light!” My heart fluttered as he smiled that adorable smile of his, but his smile quickly turned into a look of mild confusion. “Wait a minute, is it just me, or did you get taller?”

           “Uhh, maybe?” I aimlessly looked upward as if I were attempting to see the top of my own head. I was always on the tall side, and, indeed, I was even a little taller than Emmet. He giggled at my response to the question.

           “Alright, well, thanks for helping us out,” Wyldstyle continued, “but where are you going to live?”

           “Oh, I just figured I’d build myself a little apartment somewhere, no big deal.”

           “Oh, are you a Master Builder now??” Emmet eagerly inquired.

           “Actually, no, not yet,” I admitted. “But! I’m still working on it, and I’m not too terrible at building residencies, so all I need to do is find a plot to build on and some bricks to build with and I’m good to go!”

           “Good luck with that,” Wyldstyle deadpanned. “Competition is fierce around here. But I admire your enthusiasm anyway.” She patted my shoulder. “Come on Emmet, we’ve got stuff to take care of.”

           “Alright, I’m coming!” Emmet jovially responded as he started to follow her. “Take care, Light!” he shouted from over his shoulder. “Hey, we should get coffee together sometime!”

           “Y-yeah!” I sputtered, barely waving my hand before he turned back around to face Wyldstyle. As the pair walked off, I noticed just how… happy they looked together. Emmet was bouncing happily alongside Wyldstyle, and she had a genuine smile on her face as he mindlessly chattered with her (or so he appeared to be from where I was). He even excitedly grabbed her hand… oh no.

           I shook my head. Why am I so upset about the possibility that they’re dating? I haven’t even seen the guy in two years, and Wyld is my best friend. Am I really gonna let a dumb crush get in the way…?

           I sighed, making my way into the remaining ruins of the once great city. Well, I was here now, may as well tough out whatever comes at me.

[deathbyvalentine]

LARP Prompts

Of all the starports, of all the systems, he had to walk into mine

It was a seedy bar, the type that my mothers would be ashamed to find me in. It could have been on any planet, any station in the universe. It was pleasingly anonymous, the light dim, the music in some alien language I didn’t speak, dark and sultry, the cheap drinks able to kick even the biggest of us over. The taste didn’t matter. It was the forgetting we were in for.

I sat at the bar, elbows firmly planted, nursing something purple. I ignored the insistent glances of a few, wishing to drink alone. I didn’t want to have to perform or charm. I just wanted to exist without acknowledgement. Or so I thought.

Then he walked in. 

He didn’t look like he fit in here. He looked too clean, too self-conscious. A hand rubbed at the back of his head, sending his dark hair sticking out in all directions. He lingered in the doorway, eyes flickering over the patrons, hesitating on each face. In one hand, he clutched a ragged piece of paper. 

He was handsome, Adrian noted, as Adrian did. He was pathologically unable to see a man without analysing his appearance, either in direct comparison to his own or out of an abstract curiosity of if he would take him to bed or not. It said an awful lot about how he related to most people, where he found his connections. Generally, just talking to someone was out of the question. 

He finally committed and stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him. He made a beeline to the bar, the music too loud to make out fully what he was saying. His brows were furrowed at whatever the bartender was saying, but she turned away with a shrug to serve another patron, apparently dismissing him. Against his better judgement, Adrian stood, only a little unsteadily. Carefully, he picked his way over to the taller man, taking a stool beside him and gesturing for two more drinks. 

“Oh, I don’t - “ His voice was softer than Adrian was expecting somehow, more delicate.  “What, ever?” “No.” There was a hesitation there though, as he glanced down into the glass. “But maybe I can make an exception...” With a heavy sigh, he dropped into the seat, and tried a sip, pulling a hideous face before returning for more. “Adrian.” They shook hands. “Killian.” “What brings you here Killian? Doesn’t seem like your usual scene.” “No?” He raised an amused eyebrow. “How come?” Adrian dragged his eyes up and down his body, raising his eyebrow in return. “Honestly, you look better than this place. Nice, expensive clothes. Clearly never been here before. Look utterly lost.” Killian mulled this over before acquiescing. “You’re right. This isn’t my scene.” “So why are you in it?” He carefully unfurled the paper he had in his hand. It was crumpled, and a little worn. “I’m looking for my sister.” Adrian glanced down to look at the photo and his stomach sunk. He recognised the girl’s face, and he didn’t have any information that Killian would want to hear. So instead he just nodded in acknowledgement

“I’ll keep an eye out.” But Killian had sensed something. He squinted, his friendly face suddenly not so friendly. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

Annoyance - Slayers

Tommy had never been good at maintaining hate. It wasn’t in his nature. Or at least, he hadn’t thought it was. He had managed to hate Apollo for a whole two years. A record, comparatively. 

What Tommy had learnt is that holding a grudge was different from hating someone. Hatred was a feeling, grudges were a series of actions. And Tommy would continue being passive aggressive or outright aggressive for as long as he’d live he supposed. A family trait he had inherited, which immortality had amplified.

But Tommy didn’t hate him anymore. He didn’t have that hot, angry magma burning in his chest when he saw him, he didn’t want to rend his flesh, or watch him die at his feet. He didn’t want to make him lose his wits or his music. He just wanted him to stay far, far away from he and his. 

The hatred had come tumbling down like a house of cards when disdain had blown in like wind. There was no joy in hating someone so delusional they were unaware they were being hated. Any wrong done against Apollo would be framed to fit his own narrative as a hero of the people, and none of it would sink it, would make a meaningful difference. 

As cliche as it was, Tommy realised that the only form of revenge he could take that wouldn’t harm himself more was flourishing. Becoming the best, healthiest, strongest version of himself he could possibly be and outstrip Apollo in every possible way.

That or dump a mountain on him in a thousand years time. It was a toss up.

 Family - Slayers

For the first time, he felt like a real member. When he was Asclepius’s, he felt something like a pet, included and tolerated but not permanent. Like in a hundred years, he would be dead or replaced and nobody wanted to get too attached to him. 

But now, well, he wasn’t an in-law. Zeus’s blood flowed through his veins, and his new-found immortality made him a fixture, rather than a passing fancy. And he had power too, both his own and his family’s. He was older and wiser. He belonged in these hallowed halls, because he was one of them now.

He loved as fiercely, felt as deeply, hated and loved them all in almost equal measure. He could keep up with them in a way he couldn’t before. He could see the eternity stretched out before him. One of arguments and blood shed and grudges. But also one of protection, belonging, adoration the likes of which no mortal was capable of. He would hurt them and be hurt in turn, over and over again, because that was their nature. And maybe it was his too.

He felt for the first time, like he was part of something. Ancient and wild and unknowable. And he fitted right in.

Laughing with the Queen - Slayers

Tommy adored Hera. It was not an uncomplicated love - it had fear and respect mixed within it, but it was a strong love. He had the distinct feeling that he would do almost anything for her, and desired to be counted as one of hers. Someone she would protect, close ranks for, count as family. 

It was her strength and grace he admired. Even when she was furious, she was composed. Even when she was frightened, she was calm. He wanted to be like her, at the core of things, to always seem in control, poised and clever. Whenever he felt weak, his weakness showed like cracks, all over him, unable to be hidden. 

A small hopeful part of him believed she liked him too. She smiled when she saw him, and he had made her laugh on more than one occasion. They could talk, happily, with no awkward pauses or hesitations. And on her shoulder sat the peacock pin he had found for her. 

The dread he had felt when he had upset her was not just fear of retribution. It was a fear of not being part of the fold, of being treated coldly by her. He would have happily taken a curse if it meant she wouldn’t discard him entirely. Luckily, he had clawed his way back into her good graces, and he hoped it would stay that way.

 Organs - Slayers

He woke up and the world had not ended. His heart still beat in his chest, his lungs still pulled in air, and his eyes could still see the morning light. He realised that part of him had expected to die this weekend. Death had not come, and peace remained in its absence. What a miracle his body was.

He could hear Jones making coffee downstairs, the spoon clattering against the mug. Somewhere, Michael would be waking up with Ava and Ana, in his own bed, with no obligations. Zeus would be waking next to Hera, and marvelling at the fact it was another morning where she still loved him. Daniel would be watching the sunrise over Athens. His twin would be getting ready for work, his father cooking his mother breakfast. The world was kept spinning on its fragile axis by these small acts.

He knew where he would be waking up in a few weeks. It would be hotter than here. He’d wake up with a God, both foreign and familiar. He would study his face, and memorise it, and learn it by heart. It would be the first time they woke together, without Asclepius disappearing like a dream. He’d see all the small intimacies he’d been deprived of so far. Maybe they would talk. Maybe they wouldn’t. But for the first time, they’d be alone together, with no urgency. They could just exist.

It wouldn’t last of course. There were still so many pressing problems, jostling for his attention, begging to be solved. He would still be woken by nightmares, and sometimes his breath would catch in his chest and he wouldn’t be able to breath. He’d feel the knife on his throat over and over again. But it could wait, for a little while at least. He needed this. He needed one good thing to keep holding onto. This was his hope. It was all he had.

Could/Should/Did - 3YGB

He crowed triumphantly from atop the inner wall, peeking out from behind a battlement to flip off the Empress’s armies below. Childish? Definitely. Deeply and profoundly satisfying? You bet. 

It was amazing really. The most rag-tag army the country possessed had managed to take the inner city, all but walking in and changing the locks. And he had been at the forefront, sneaking and planning and leading in a way he had actively avoided before. He had worn the mantle of leader uncomfortably, hating the responsibility, the pressure. But now, he realised, there was freedom in people embracing you whole-heartedly, in entrusting their lives to you. It forced you to grow up, to take some accountability. He finally felt like he might be who he was supposed to be.

And now, the victory was his as much as theirs. He had planned this, he had given them the orders, he had followed them into the mouth of the beast. And stolen the damn palace from right under their noises. Well, they were thieves after all. It was fitting. He walked inside the palace, clapping every soldier he saw on the back, sharing half-awed grins. Can you believe we did this? Can you believe that we won?

*

The shadows stretched long and dark in the corridors, eerily silent, unmoving. The moon shone through the palace windows, producing pools of light amidst all the dark. Cherry paused in the doorway, his own breath loud in his ears. He held up a hand to get his soldiers to wait, hang back. Then, slowly, he placed a foot down on the stone floor, edging his way into the passage. 

Something was wrong. The air hung oddly and it felt like the walls were holding their breath. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and sent a long shiver down his spine. Everything was still.

He got five steps into the corridor before chaos erupted. The shadows rippled out and exploded into a frenzy of movement. They bubbled and formed into palace guards, their armour as dark as the shadow they were formed from. It was a trap. The entire thing was a trap. He turned, hopelessly to his folk, with just enough time to scream an order to run. Some tripped over themselves to obey, others drew their swords.

The pain didn’t hit him right away. At first, his breath was simply knocked from his body, and he couldn’t understand why Cold Smile’s eyes widened in horror. Or why taking another step was strikingly impossible.

And then he looked down to see the blade that had pierced straight through his back. And the steady, dark stream of blood that followed. It still didn’t hurt, but the taste of copper in his throat and mouth was revolting. It seemed easier to go to his knees.

He instinctively patted his bandoleer, searching fruitlessly for his healing potion. Then he laughed, splattering the stone with splashes of scarlet. Of course. He had given it to Duty for the cut on her head. It still seemed a fair exchange.

Distantly, the battle was ongoing, and he could hear it echoing. But it seemed more important to sleep. He was only sorry that he couldn’t fall into that peaceful slumber the way he had last night, with his head in Duty’s lap, and her fingers tangled in his hair.

*

He was absolutely powerless. He stood in the war room, looking at the space where the flag had been. His flag that represented his soldiers. That had been utterly decimated. Three hundred thieves, liars, beggars, visionaries, friends, companions tricksters,, lovers, killers, artists and countless more. He knew each of their names, and many of their stories, and now they were likely dead, and if they were not, they were soon to be so.

And the worst part? He wasn’t with them.

He had become like the leaders he so hated, sitting safe in a command post far far away from where the action was, making them take risks that he wouldn’t take himself. It had been his orders that they had followed without question, and his orders that had gotten them killed. Fourth Raven was murmuring in his ear something about what they had gained, information that would aid them later, that would stop someone else’s army dying pointlessly. But it was his that had, his that was deemed an acceptable sacrifice. He didn’t think it was coincidence it was the army formed of the lowest dregs that had been the sacrificial lamb.

They still might win, he knew that. But all he could think of was the five hundred graves left to dig, and bless, and bodies to bury. The bodies of those that had believed in him where nobody else had. Part of him wanted to join the fight, to bleed and die beside them. But that was no longer an option. Someone had to remember them all. That would have to be him. Fates knew nobody else would.

Filthy Liberalism/Low Tide - Empire

Mattias trailed his fingers in the warm water, watching a few silver fish dart away from the resulting ripples. A little while away from the shore, the smart snapping of sails could be heard, and the bright flashes of colour seen. Refugees, more of them. From his position on the pier, he could estimate they’d be here within the hour. 

The trickle from Zemress had not yet entirely slowed, and Mattias assumed it wouldn’t until the island was empty. And why should they stay? There was an Empire waiting for them here, welcoming and inviting and not so different from what they already knew. Distant cousins, the lot of them. They had to earn their keep, to be told, but there was a place here for them. 

There was more than simple logic influencing his compassion. There was a pang deep inside his chest, an unspoken worry. Kahraman was currently inundated with orcs. They would beat them back, they always did. But a small hypothetical nagged at him.

If the Brass Coast were ever eliminated as a nation, he hoped that those neighbouring would take him in, not just as a guest, but as a citizen. How could they hope to convert the world into members of the Empire if by the Virtue of their birth, they could never truly fit inside the society. What about those that did not wish to be Hakima or Kohan, and wanted to be embraced, but could not brag of their blood?

Mattias valued his family, and his tribe and he was not sure what he would do without the fierce Pride that so informed that love. He was even less sure what he would do if he wasn’t given a choice about abandoning tribal and family links. He would not be happy, that much he could guarantee. 

He let his fingers still in the water, and the curious fish nibbled on his skin curiously. In an hour, he would stand and greet the new citizens, with all the fire and passion they deserved.

Dissolution - Death Unto Darkness

A part of them wanted to gather them all close to their chest, cradle them tight, and keep them all together. A little worry pricked at the back of their mind, that this might be the last time they saw all of them. The sector was growing more dangerous than the second, and the fragile peace they had enjoyed on the Chaser felt a million years ago.

Cal supposed they had been happy there. Lying in bed watching holovids with Nic when they couldn’t sleep, close enough to hear his heartbeat and his warmth, steady and true. Playing hide and seek with Baris on the engineering deck, their laugh giving them away much more often than their footsteps. Sitting on the observation deck with Bridge, looking out at the miracle of stars. Allowing Sister Anya to stitch them up, always grimacing, never shouting. Pip stroking their hair when the pain and sickness got too much for them to bear alone. Complaining about nobles and swapping ration packs with Gwyn. Their armscrew carrying them when they were too tired to walk and letting them lie in their bunks. Even Aleph and Mitra’s presence, foreboding and serious would be missed. And the Chaser itself, that looming, vicious presence that Cal had only brushed against but already held dear due to the minds that had loved hers.

They would be stepping onto a different ship, into a great unknown, with only Constantin and Argento at their back. Somewhere, there would be Nasser. At the end, there would be orks, and work, and death and pain. They were not alone any more, not truly, The Emperor ever present and glowing in their mind. But they would still be lonely.

They took a moment now to look over the assembled bodies with their new eyes, embedding this image into their mind. This. This is what they were fighting for. They must not forget the reasons why, or all would be lost. They could forget the details, the names, even the faces and feelings, but they couldn’t forget this humanity.

Vindication - DuD

They had never felt this before and it took them quite a while to realise exactly what it was. It felt like a physical warmth in their chest that pushed against their spine, making sure they kept their back straight and their head up high. It made them believe in every one of their words, kept their hands from trembling, and their eyes never dropped eye contact. They had never heard their voice like this, no stuttering, clear and calm.

It was confidence. It was knowing that they were worth something, unarguably and absolutely. They had been chosen, they were beloved, they could rearrange the surroundings with a click of their fingers. It was knowing, deep down, that they were right about the Emperor. 

Once, they were nothing. Stepped on, ignored, abused, broken again and again until a stone had turned into sand. They had believed every lie they were ever told about their own worth until they couldn’t even see their potential. The worst lie was being told they were unworthy of Her love.

Showed them. Showed them all.

[janeorozco92]

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Cat Spraying Urine Video

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Cat Peeing With Blood

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[jamaninja]

Olicity fanfic: Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner - chapter 2

Word count: 2,719 Rating: Teen Summary: Felicity goes to meet with Myron, and Oliver can tell that there's something wrong.

Read on: AO3 | ff.net

Chapter 2

Present day, Starling City

Oliver knew something was up with Felicity because she hadn’t made a single snarky remark all day about being his executive assistant.

She may have taken on the job when he promoted her against her will, but not a single day passed since without her reminding him in some sort of passive-aggressive way that she had two master’s degrees from MIT, and that all the tasks he made her do on a daily basis were far beneath her considerable capabilities.

In fact, he had practically memorized the withering look she would inevitably give him every time he asked her to do something related to her executive assistant duties.

“I practically built this office system from the ground up, Oliver. I think I can handle adding your meeting to your calendar.”

So the fact that she hadn’t said a biting thing yet, he knew that something was wrong.

“Felicity?” Oliver called from his office. “Marcus down in financing is supposed to forward me a copy of the documents he wants us to review. Can you make three copies — one for me and two for the lawyers?”

Then he braced himself inwardly for the cold remark in reply — perhaps something like, “Of course I can. It’s not like making copies is rocket science, which, by the way, I studied a little bit of at the prestigious college I attended,” or “Ooh, copies. Have I been promoted against my will again?”

But instead, all he got was, “Uh...sure. I can get those to you in a minute.”

He blinked in surprise at her tame response. But instead of lowering his guard, he strengthened it. He looked up and saw that she wasn’t looking at him — instead, she was preoccupied with whatever was on her computer monitor.

There was something in her eyes. It looked like...fear? Or worry? There was definitely a sense of anxiety in her body language, and his concern multiplied.

“Felicity?” Oliver called out, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “Are you OK?”

“Uh...yeah,” she answered, still completely distracted. “I’m fine. I’ll get those copies to you soon.”

He didn’t give a shit about the copies anymore. Instead, he wanted to know what made her so distracted that he couldn’t snipe at him for going behind her back and ruining her career.

But he knew that she wouldn’t tell him. Not yet. And with a sigh, he turned back to the work on his desk.

It was his own fault that Felicity didn’t trust him like she used to, and he felt such intense regret over it.

He never mentioned it, and neither did Felicity, but they both knew that there was a connection between them. From the moment they met, he felt it. It was just a spark in the beginning, when she quirked her head to the side in curiosity behind the obviousness of his lie. But that spark turned into a flame that grew every time they crossed paths, until it brought him to her, breathless and dying, hoping that she would save his life.

That was the moment that cemented it. Waking up to see her exhausted eyes light up in relief to see that he was still alive tied them forever together.

And to be completely honest, the thought of tying himself to a virtual stranger scared the shit out of him. It was OK with Digg — after all, he was a man. He didn’t feel anything but brotherly affection toward him.

But with Felicity — with Felicity, his growing attraction made him want to hold onto her tight and run as far away as possible at the same time.

So he started pushing her away. Sara came back from the dead and he clinged to her, turning his back on his connection with Felicity to try and resuscitate the dying connection he had with his old flame.

As a result, Felicity no longer came to him first with her problems. She no longer confided in him like she once did. She turned to others or kept it to herself, and that was his fault and his fault alone.

By five-thirty, Felicity stood from her desk, her coat on and her purse over her shoulder. “The copies are in the folder in your tray. Your calendar is updated for tomorrow and all the agendas for your meetings are attached. I have to head out.”

“Wait, Felicity,” he called out before she could leave. “Are you sure you’re OK? You’ve been kind of distracted all day.”

“I’m fine,” she answered with a forced smile. “I might be a little late getting to the foundry tonight, but I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Where are you going?” he asked. He couldn’t help himself — she always went immediately to the foundry after work, and the fact that she wasn’t today just reinforced the notion that something was wrong.

Her smile immediately disappeared at his question. “I’m meeting someone. It shouldn’t take long.”

Oliver wouldn’t be brushed off. “Who are you meeting?”

“Just an old friend,” she said impatiently. “You don’t know him.”

She was meeting a guy? He tried hard to tamp down on the jealousy he had no right to feel, but it was hard to get rid of something so toxic and so strong within him.

“When do you think you’ll be finished?” he asked.

She had finally reached the end of her patience. “Who are you, my father?” she snapped. “I’ll be finished when I’m finished.” And with that, she turned on her heel and stomped away.

Oliver let out a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. He was reaping what he sowed. He had this coming.

But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

A few minutes later, he heard a soft knock on his office door and he looked up, thinking for a millisecond that Felicity had come back. But while there was a blonde in his doorway, it turned out to be his girlfriend.

He shouldn’t have felt disappointed about that, but he was.

“Hey,” he greeted her, forcing a tired smile on his face. “How are you, babe?”

“Better than you, apparently,” she said with an amused smirk. She pushed herself off the doorframe and walked toward him. Then she started rubbing his shoulders. “You want to talk about it?” she asked.

He shouldn’t have. Not really. If there was one thing he knew about relationships, it was that you should never, ever talk about a girl you were attracted to to your current girlfriend. He’d learned from experience.

But Oliver couldn’t help himself.

“Something’s going on with Felicity,” he murmured. “She’s been distracted and weird all day. I think something’s wrong, but she won’t talk about it.”

And much to his surprise, Sara agreed.

“I think you’re right,” she murmured. “I heard her on the phone outside the foundry last night and she sounded like she was in some trouble. Then she told someone she’d meet them at the Black Tavern at six o’clock.”

He was suddenly on high alert. The Black Tavern was the shadiest bar in town, and the only reason anyone ever went there was to score shady drug deals.

“Did you hear why she had to go there?” he asked.

“No. But from her body language, it didn’t sound like it could be anything good.”

His worry multiplied. If Felicity was in trouble, there was the possibility that she was walking into a lion’s den by herself without backup, which was kind of hypocritical of her because she was constantly bugging him about not going out in the field without backup.

Sensing what he was thinking, Sara clapped him on the shoulder. “I brought the bike with me. We can be there in ten minutes.”

Oliver smiled gratefully at his girlfriend. “Thank you.”

She returned his smile. “You’re not the only one who cares about her.”

Six years ago, Boston

“Felicity, when you’re finished restocking the shelves, I need you as backup on the cash register,” Bart called to her as he passed.

She let out a sigh at her instructions. “Sure thing, boss,” she answered in dull tones.

She couldn’t be entirely sure, since she was still alive, but she was at least eighty percent certain that if hell existed, it would take the form of working at a Tech Village.

Every day in between classes, she would take the Red Line all the way out to Cedar Grove, then walk the two miles to her job where she would rush around the tiny store for around four hours, completing inane tasks and answering the dumbest customer questions. Honestly, there were some people in the world who didn’t even deserve to own a computer.

But, she’d always have to remind herself, this job was just temporary. It was just a means to an end. It was a way to help her survive the brutality of grad school.

It’s just temporary, she thought to herself as she made her way to an open cash register and flipped on her light.

“What’s just temporary?” someone asked.

Felicity lifted her head and immediately blushed when she realized that it was none other than that Cooper guy she met last night in Professor Kuttler’s office. He was looking at her with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and it was by far the most attention she’d ever been paid by a member of the opposite sex.

“Uh...nothing,” she muttered. “I just...I have a habit of saying my thoughts out loud.”

He smiled at her, which only made her face redder. “Ah. I see.”

“Uh, well are you ready for me to check you out?” Her eyes widened at the inherent double entendre and she immediately began rambling. “I mean...not like check you out out, just...you know, ring you up and take your money.”

He laughed. “I knew what you meant. And yes, please.”

Felicity kept her head down as she passed his items over her scanner and she couldn’t help but notice that he was buying quite a few computer parts, including a satellite frequency communicator TX40.

“I’m trying to breach a Tor-secured firewall, and I need something to help me piggyback off a keyhole hexagon satellite,” Cooper told her when he noticed that she was eyeing the TX40 with curiosity.

In spite of herself, she smiled. “I did that once,” she said shyly. “I hacked a public Wi-Fi signal, piggybacked using a crowd-sourced stealth processing.”

Cooper’s smile widened, and she noticed that he even looked a little impressed. “If you don’t mind my asking — what were you trying to get into?”

God, at that point Felicity was certain that she was red enough to be mistaken for a lobster. “I, um...I was trying to get into an FBI database.”

There was no mistaking it now — he was definitely impressed. “And did you get in?”

She nodded, though at that point she couldn’t quite look up into his eyes.

He cocked his head to the side as she rang up his total. “Do you mind if I ask you another question?”

She nodded again.

“It doesn’t sound like you have a lot of qualms about doing...illegal things.”

Felicity didn’t say anything as she continued bagging his items. She had a vague idea of where this question was leading.

“If you’re OK with hacking into a federal database, then why were you so hesitant to join us? What we’re doing isn’t even illegal, you know. There aren’t any laws against counting cards.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “I grew up in Vegas, OK? I’ve heard the stories. I know what happens to people who get caught. It might not be illegal, but pit bosses have their own ways of enforcing the rules.”

“What if I told you that you didn’t have to worry about that?” he asked eagerly. “What if I told you that working as a team ensures that we don’t get caught? I’ve been doing this for a year, all up and down the Las Vegas strip and we haven’t gotten caught once.”

“Well it’s easy for you,” she protested. “You didn’t grow up in that town. You don’t have friends in every single casino there. There are some dealers at the Mirage who still have baby pictures of me in their wallets!”

“So you’ll wear a disguise,” he insisted. “You get to be a different person every night. One day I’m some drunken dot-com billionaire, the next I’m the son of some foreign diplomat. You can be anyone in Vegas. You don’t have to be the little Felicity Smoak that everyone knows.”

She had to admit, the idea was tempting. All her life, she’d been the short, mousy-haired kid genius with the over-sized glasses and the outdated wardrobe because she couldn’t afford anything more stylish to wear. What would it be like to change herself for one day? What would it be like to be someone else, the kind of girl who could afford to stay at the biggest suite at the MGM Grand? The kind of girl who could throw down two hundred thou on the blackjack tables, drinking rum and cokes and flirting with all the other people at the table?

“Look,” Cooper said as he slid over some cash to pay for his merchandise, “will you at least promise to think about it? Don’t reject us outright just yet. I think you could use a little fun in your life.”

She made the mistake of looking up into his face and his stunning green eyes were boring deep into hers. For a second, she could hardly breathe as they stood there, staring at one another.

“I’ll — ” her voice was hoarse, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll think about it.”

He smiled. “Good.”

Felicity turned back to the cash register, but he just grabbed the bag and waved at her. “Keep the change.”

She looked down at the cash in her hand. His total had been $221, but he had handed over three crisp hundred dollar bills.

Present day, Starling City

It seemed that the years hadn’t been kind to Myron Forest.

Since she had last seen him, his hair started to thin out, leaving a small bald patch at the top of his crown, and he was developing a little bit of a paunch right at his waist. And worst of all were the gray bags under his tired eyes, like he hadn’t slept a wink for the past five years.

“Felicity,” he said in a tone of relief when he spotted her. He got off the high barstool and walked around the table to give her a hug.

She returned it with interest. “Myron,” she breathed. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he whispered. When he released her, he took a step back and looked her up and down. Then he smiled tiredly. “I don’t know how you managed it, but you look even better than you did when you were 21.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “That would be the makeup.”

Once their greetings were finished, they took their seats at the small table in the far corner.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Myron said as he lifted his glass to his lips. “I know it was probably kind of a shock to get my message after so many years.”

“Kind of,” she acknowledged. A waitress came by and Felicity asked for a glass of cabernet. When she left, Felicity turned back to Myron. “I think the last time I saw you, we were both booking it in the alley behind the Luxor.”

He chuckled. “Those were the good ol’ days, huh?” Then he knocked back the rest of his drink.

She didn’t respond to that, instead fiddling with the coaster in front of her. She was waiting for him to spit it out — he asked her here tonight for a reason, not just to relive their college days.

They spent a few minutes in tense silence. The waitress came by with Felicity’s wine, and when she left, Myron finally spoke up.

“Felicity, I...I need your help.”

She nodded carefully as she took a sip of wine. “I figured as much. What do you need my help with?”

He took a deep breath. “After I graduated from MIT, I moved out to San Francisco to open my own startup. It was pretty promising at first — I had a ton of investors and a lot of initial interest. But when I wasn’t getting the kind of numbers that I had projected, people started pulling out and I got desperate.”

She knew as much. While she was at work earlier, she’d been scouring the internet for anything she could find out about Myron since they were at MIT together. His startup had been a good idea — it was a social networking app that helped people discover new and interesting events in their area. The problem, as all the tech blogs pointed out, was that this was already a function of other major and more established networks, like Google and Facebook. While it was a good idea and there was moderate initial interest, there just weren’t enough users to support it, and the whole thing fell apart.

“I started using all my savings to self-fund, but it wasn’t enough,” he said quietly, staring down at the thick bottom of his empty glass. “So I...I had to start borrowing.”

She took a long sip of her cabernet. “How much?” she finally asked.

A pause. Then, “Five million.”

Felicity’s eyes widened. “Are you joking?” she hissed. “Where in the world could you get that kind of money?”

“I mortgaged everything,” he said in a cracking voice. “I put my car up for collateral. I had to use everything I had, but my startup crashed and burned. There’s no interest anymore and now the bank is getting ready to clean me out. Felicity, I have nothing left. Nothing.”

She watched the broken man on the other side of the table, with his hunched shoulders and his exhausted eyes. When she first met him, she was convinced that he was the most confident person she had ever known. Next to Cooper, she thought that he was invincible.

She took in a breath. “So what do you need from me?”

He wiped quickly at the corner of his eyes. “There’s only one way I know how to get that kind of money in a short amount of time.”

“Other than hacking a bank, you mean?” she asked dryly.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, this way is actually legal.”

Felicity closed her eyes and started rubbing her temples. She knew this was coming. Of course she did. She could see it from a mile away the minute she sat down at the table. But at the same time, she couldn’t believe he was actually asking her to do this.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

Her eyes flew open and her expression suddenly became fierce. “Myron Forest, have you lost your mind? Do you remember what happened the last time?”

“Of course I remember!” he hissed back. “But this is my only chance! I don’t have anything left, Felicity! I am an empty shell, and soon I’ll be homeless too!”

“Better homeless than paralyzed!”

He hung his head in complete defeat for a prolonged second, and she watched warily, waiting for him to gather up what little ammunition he had left for this fight.

“Look...I know that the last thing you want to do is to go back to this. The last thing any of us want is to go back. But this is all I have left. I’ve failed at everything else in my life, but this? This was the only thing I was ever, really truly good at. And it may be the only thing that can save me.

“Please, Felicity? Would you please do me this favor, just this once? For old time’s sake?”

He looked up at his final plea, his sad, tired brown eyes looking deeply into hers.

And immediately, she thought back to all those times she’d seen his eyes lit up with happiness. She thought back to whenever Noah would hand out his cut of their take on any given night. Or when she’d surprise him with his favorite Australian chocolate bar. Or when Cayden or Cooper would crack a joke and he would laugh deep from his belly, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Once upon a time, those brown eyes were clear and determined. Once upon a time, Myron believed he would one day take over the world. But now, in this shady bar in the Glades, he sat in front of her with exhausted eyes and a broken spirit, holding out his empty hands in a plea for her to give him back a tiny sliver of their glory days, when he was still invincible.

She knew this expression. She saw it every day in different eyes — they were blue and clouded with five years worth of hellish memories. And if it had been him sitting in front of her, asking for this favor, she would have said yes without thinking twice.

Felicity took in a deep breath. Then, she gave her answer.

“OK.”

Immediately, Myron’s expression lifted into one of ecstatic joy, and it completely transformed his face. For that brief second, he looked like he used to, back in what he called “the good ol’ days.”

“Thank you, Felicity,” he said fervently. “Seriously. You have no idea how much you are saving me.”

She snorted as she took a sip of her wine. Well, she spent pretty much every single day with a bunch of vigilantes. They were bound to rub off on her at some point.

Drop me a line if you want to get tagged in updates!

[dontshootmespence]

Passive-Aggressive Partnership

Parts 1-9 Can Be Found Here / Part 10 @coveofmemories @bleedreid @my-xomatosis-s

Part 11

                                                              -----

It had taken a while for her to open up to him, but it was okay. He understood. Especially after she told him about what happened to her in college. Michael promised her that no matter what, he would be there to protect her. He loved her. He loved her more than words could describe. That sweet smile and those shining eyes. Those beautiful things about her that someone tried to take away; he’d almost succeeded.

After weeks of reticence on her part, she agreed to go out with him, but only if it was somewhere really public; she was afraid. She wanted plenty of eyewitnesses - that was fine by him. He suggested the local fair that had popped up. They could go on rides, eat fair food, play some of those rigged games and maybe he’d win her a stuffed animal. 

While she had been nervous when they first arrived, within the first hour, she was smiling and laughing; she even slipped her hand into his. They did everything he’d suggested, she even won crappy bracelet that she’d placed around his wrist, and by the end of the night they went their separate ways in separate cars, but not before sharing a perfect kiss that he would never forget. It was the moment they fell in love and knew they’d be together forever.

                                                             -----

As Michael was walked into the interrogation room, the team gathered outside the window to observe.

“He’s involved,” Emily said, “But I don’t think he’s the killer.”

That was the second time in as many hours that Spencer had heard someone say that. “Why? Y/N found black nail polish in the sample she took. He asked Magdalena about the first two victims. It fits.”

“Too easily,” JJ said, coming up behind Spencer and leaning against his shoulder. “These crimes required a certain amount of brutality and detachment. He’s nervous. His eyes are darting back and forth. He’s a little bit sweaty...and he keeps picking at that bracelet in order to calm himself down.”

“You think he’s protecting someone?” Rossi asked. 

Both ladies said yes. “I think the killer’s a woman,” JJ replied. 

Spencer heaved a huge sigh as his head fell in his hands. Maybe Y/N was right. Maybe her sense that the killer was a woman was all she needed. JJ seemed to be behind her. And he’d doubted her. She was never going to let him live that down. “What’s the matter, kid?” Morgan asked.

“When I was on the phone with Y/N, she said she thought the killer was a woman too. And I questioned her. I accused her of making assumptions off feelings rather than facts...and we fought about it.” It still could’ve been him though. He was seen by the victim of the first two victims. He could be nervous because he was about to be put away for murder. And snapping his bracelet could just be a nervous habit. Although his actions could indicate that he was protecting someone, they could also indicate that he was just nervous. It could go either way.

Morgan clapped Spencer on the back of the shoulder. “I would suggest apologizing to her once this is over,” he said. “Either one of you could be right. We need to interrogate him to be sure.” 

“Okay,” Hotch said, rifling through the file in his hand. “Spencer, you take the interrogation.” 

“Show him the victims’ pictures,” Emily said out of nowhere. “The killer would have no problem looking at them. Someone else would likely look away.” 

As Spencer walked into the room, he introduced himself, and told Michael he needed to ask him about Colin Kincaid, Robert Mobley, and Jack Salmassi aka John Cardenas. He pulled on the pictures and placed them on the table. Spencer could tell from the twitch in his neck that his first instinct was to turn away, but he didn’t. He looked right at them. “Do you know these three men?” he asked.

Taking a deep breath, Michael leaned back in his chair. “I’ve seen them before. They were disgusting human beings who deserved what they got.”

“And what did they get?” Spencer asked. If he was going to give a false confession, he wasn’t going to be able to recount all the details correctly. 

“Robert got a quicker death. A less painful one,” he said, pushing the picture of Robert toward Spencer. “He was cut in one fell swoop. Colin though, he was mouthy, kept saying and I quote ‘the bitch was asking for it,’ so he deserved more pain. Used the serrated knife.”

He knew the difference between the two knives, and which one was used on who, but he was also using language that indicated that he wasn’t there. He was recounting it like a story, not like someone that had first-hand knowledge. The unsettling feeling in Spencer’s stomach grew as he continued. Something wasn’t right.

                                                            -----

Dammit. Michael had turned himself in. She knew him, better than anyone- he’d do anything for her. He was going to confess. Colin and Robert weren’t her first. She’d been doing this a little longer than the feds thought, but once Michael figured out what she was doing with the names he got her, he said he understood. He was behind her. Then they discussed that if he were to ever get caught, she wasn’t to come for him. She thought it weird when he asked for every detail of what she’d done, but now she knew. He was going to take the fall. Said he’d protect her - no matter what.

With Michael in custody, she went back to her apartment and grabbed what she could, hopping in her car with tears in her eyes and leaving the city behind - for a while or forever she wasn’t sure yet.

                                                           -----

“What about Jack Salmassi?” Spencer said, pushing the picture of the third victim in Michael’s direction. “What did he deserve? What did you do to him?” Michael kept trying to avoid using the language that would directly incriminate him, so Spencer tried leading him to do so, but it didn’t work.

“He deserved everything he got too. Kept talking about how much he liked Dillon Scinto, that it actually hurt him to kill him, but he did. Strangled him with his right hand. Can you believe that? He said he was hurt because he had to kill him. Used the serrated knife on him too and listened to him scream. The hand was an afterthought,” Michael said. The more he spoke, the more confident he got. Everything he was saying lined up with the wounds on the bodies, but something felt off. Although Spencer didn’t want to admit it, Y/N had probably been right. He was protecting the woman he loved.

“How did you find them?” Spencer asked. Where did those names come from? There was no connection between the three victims other than their prolific use of social media. “There was no connection between them.”

“Yes, there was,” he said, leaning across the table to stare directly into Spencer’s eyes. “Arrogance. They sat on the opposite side of a computer screen and spewed hateful drivel that they thought would never come back to them.”

“Where exactly did you find them?”

Michael took a deep breath again and when he opened his eyes, there was a fire in them Spencer hadn’t noticed before. “Hopefully, a man such as yourself will find this equally disgusting. I found them all through a Twitter tag they were using. #itaintrape.”

                                                          -----

“What?” Emily exclaimed from outside the room, immediately taking out her phone to do a quick search of the tag. “Oh my god.”

The rest of the team came to crowd around Emily, looking at her phone at the disgusting comments made by people who would in all likelihood never be held accountable for their words. “This is disgusting.”

Though these men had been killed and the BAU had a job to do, everyone was having an increasingly difficult time feeling anything but contempt for the victims. 

                                                         -----

“I d-don’t use Twitter,” Spencer replied. He had no idea what any of that meant. “What’s a tag? They all used the same one?”

“You’re an analog man, aren’t you?” Michael laughed, feeling a little bit more confident in what he was doing. “A tag is a hashtag, the number sign, that allows people to type in something after it, like these disgusting men, and some women actually, that would allow others to search for the same topic. In this case, these disgusting excuses for men that were wiped from the earth, used the tag #itaintrape. Colin’s tweet was #itaintrape if she can’t say no. Robert’s was #itaintrape if she orgasms. And Jack’s...” he said, searching his brain for the right tweet, “his was #itaintrape if they’re not old enough to consent. Fucking disgusting. I found the most disgusting tags I could, tracked them down and killed them. I’m just mad I got found out so soon, I could’ve done more.”

Spencer wanted to throw up. The fact that something like this could exist, where people could go and talk about something like this, it made him physically sick. Michael had used incriminating language when it came to finding the victims. He was the one that found them, but he still got the feeling that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. The only thing he could think of that might get him to slip up was asking where the murders actually took place. “Where did you kill them?” 

“They were all killed in a warehouse outside of town. It’s caught up in legal issues so no one goes there.” As Spencer got up to leave, he said nothing, honestly just trying to keep his composure and keep from throwing up. When he exited the room, Hotch said he already sent officers to check out the warehouse, and that the cops that took bribes over Colin and Robert’s case were taken into custody. 

“What do you think?” he asked. 

It just didn’t sit well. Everything that Michael said indicated he was the responsible party, but the way he said it, that was evidence of something else. “If the warehouse checks out, we’re going to have a difficult time proving that anyone other than him committed these crimes.”

Everyone had come to the same conclusion. The evidence checked out. But the behavior said different. 

                                                        -----

The warehouse was the scene of the murders. All three victims’ blood was found there. “Well thank you for your help,” the leader officer said to Hotch and the team. “But everything checks out. We’re gonna take it from here.”

“We have reason to believe that Michael is covering for someone else,” he replied. “When we interviewed him, he refused to use words like ‘I’ and ‘me,’ he only spoke as if it were a story.”

“But everything checks out,” the officer said, his confusion evident as he looked at the rest of the team. “The murder scene. He said how the victims died and with what weapon. He said how he tracked them down.”

“We strongly believe that if you close down this investigation now, you’ll be letting a murderer go free,” Morgan said. “He used first person language when he was talking about hunting them down, so we believe that was his part in the murders.”

“But when it came to everything else, he told it like a story. Plus, when Dr. Reid here showed him the pictures, his first instinct was to look away. Our unsub wouldn’t do that. They’d have pride in what they did. Any vigilante would,” JJ said. Although she didn’t feel bad for the victims, she still did her job. These were the kinds of cases that made her question what she did for a living.

Once again, the officer extended his hand toward Hotch and the rest of the team, leaving off with a small wave from Reid. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but our hard evidence points to Michael Plasket. If someone else is out there, we’ll catch them, but for now, this case is closed.”

As they walked out of the station, feeling as if their work was unfinished, none of them really knew how to feel. Agents were supposed to feel bad when they couldn’t catch an unsub, but did they actually feel bad? Didn’t these victims get what they deserved?

                                                          -----

Nearly three hours outside town, Cara turned on the local news app on her phone to see her beloved Michael being taken into custody. She never thought she’d find love. Not after what happened to her. But Michael came into her life. Respected her decisions. Respected her body. And most importantly, gave her time. She loved him with all her heart. But these kinds of people needed to pay, and he knew that. That’s why he’d taken the fall for him. As the tears formed a wall over her eyes, she kissed the screen. “I’m sorry, Michael. I love you. Thank you.”

With his help, she would continue on.

                                                          -----

While everyone else went back to the Bureau to start on their paperwork for the case, Spencer headed over to Y/N’s office. He didn’t want to leave off on a fight. He walked in intending to apologize. But she said nothing as he walked in.

“We caught the guy,” he said unconvincingly. “Everything pointed him, but he was probably covering for someone.”

“So you didn’t catch the guy,” she replied, looking up with no emotion. “You think the person who actually killed them got away?” Spencer nodded. “Good.”

“Good?” he asked. 

“Yea,” she replied. “I’m a human being and I don’t feel bad that these men got what they deserved.”

“But even you said you thought it was a woman? You said that’s where the facts pointed. Isn’t that why you went into this field? So that you could help catch the culprits? With facts? You were right,” he said.

A small smile painted her delicate features. “I know I was,” she said. “After all, I am good at my job. I know I was right, but I hope she keeps going and taking revenge on people like Colin, Robert and Jack.”

Spencer’s mouth dropped open. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, but as he turned away, he wasn’t sure whether that sick feeling came from the fact that Y/N seemed to have no bad feelings for their uncaught unsub, or because he happened to agree with her and he hated himself for it.

[renaroo]

Double Time (6/24)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence Pairings: Tuckington, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Hero Time Sequel] After the events of Hero Time, the city and Blood Gulch are prepared for the true return of superheroes in a big way. But while Washington is attempting to adjust to a new relationship and a new living arrangement, the call of new heroes and a new mayor mean major changes for his professional life as well as his personal one. How will the balance of values fare when his new partners come to test everything he’s made of.

A/N: WHOO I kept on schedule and posted on Monday! Just like I wanted! WHOO. Anyway, this was a SUPREMELY fun chapter to write and I hope that transfers over to your guys’ enjoyment <3 Because it’s time for some shenanigans in this supposed comedy of errors. 

Special thanks to @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @freshzombiewriter, @washingtonstub, @icefrozenover, @ashleystlawrence, @fuckyeahroosterteethproductions, @thepheonixqueen, @cobaltqueen, @justsmilesome, Yin, @notatroll7, @a-taller-tale, @orestes-swimming, and orangecookiekay on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.

Power Team

Tucker sat back against the hood of his car, right by a dent that would have probably been enough to make a regular car owner take the vehicle immediately to the shop. Of course, it was the least distracting part of the vehicle in Wash’s assessment so Tucker, of course, did nothing to signify embarrassment. 

No, he simply leaned back with his arms folded and a significant pout on his face for completely unrelated reasons to the moment at hand. 

“I look so dumb,” Tucker groaned. 

Washington was wearing spandex and kevlar that fit his every curve so he found little pity within himself to offer Tucker for having to wear sunglasses and a hoodie. “You’re fine.”

Tucker lowered his glasses enough to raise a brow and smirk slightly. “What kind of fine?”

“Not now,” Washington warned, holding up his hand. “The teenagers will be here soon and I don’t think all of them are aware of my identity. Which is why you’re dressed like that. And why I’m dressed like this.”

“Like a tool?” Tucker asked. 

“What is up with you lately?” Wash finally asked, turning enough to leer at Tucker. “You’re just so... aggressive.”

“By who’s standards?” Tucker replied snappishly.

“You just did it again,” Washington said pointing at him. “And now you’re about to change the subject--”

“Did you call Tex like I asked?” Tucker changed subjects, expectedly. 

“Goddammit, Tucker,” Wash groaned before rubbing his face. “Yes. Yes, I called Tex to ask her and she spent about ten minutes laughing at me before hanging up. So her not being here has nothing to do with me not coming up on my end.”

“Bow chicka bow wow.”

Letting out a sharp breath, Washington turned toward Tucker and put his hands on his hips. “That has to be the most passive aggressive innuendo I’ve heard in my life,” he announced.

“Heard a lot of them?” Tucker asked, tilting his head.

“Mostly from you,” Wash admitted, looking to his wrist for the time. “Everyone should be arriving soon. You know, you don’t have to be here. I’ll keep Junior by my side. You being here is kind of like... I don’t know. Parents who stay and watch basketball practice.”

Tucker, if possible, got tenser. “Right. Because I’m just an overprotective, single parent.”

Wash looked at Tucker, sensing that barely suppressed upset again. “I didn’t mean it that way--”

“What way?” Tucker asked sharply. “I swear to fucking god, you are so dense. You don’t even know what I’m upset about.”

“No, I don’t, so why don’t you tell me later after we get through here?” Wash offered in what he hoped wasn’t a dismissive tone, though he had his doubts given Tucker’s continuing, building upset. “Tucker--”

“Don’t give my name out in public or anything,” Tucker said, throwing his wrist fully into a dismissive hand wave. “I mean, fuck, hate to have anyone know you’re together with someone when they already seem to know about every other aspect of your life.”

Opening his mouth, Washington tried desperately, and failed, to find an adequate response. But even if he had had more than a few seconds he probably would not have been able to think of anything.

Even so, the moment was thankfully upended by the loud THUD of Junior leaping onto the top of the car and throwing up his arms in an excited honk.

He was wearing his usual playtime ‘superhero suit’ -- blanket cape, rubber rain boots, and all. Wash didn’t miss how it was a Texas merch shirt rather than a Washington one. 

It was very difficult to not take it immediately into offense. 

When neither Tucker nor Wash had responded appropriately toward Junior’s arrival, he clapped his jaws together in warning and glared at them both before performing a little jump and honking again. 

Catching on immediately, both Tucker and Washington began clapping for the child’s arrival which led to excitable cooing from Junior. 

“You look very heroic, Junior,” Wash commended him while Tucker lifted the little hybrid off the car and onto the street. “You’re going to make all the other heroes very jealous after I introduce you today.”

Tucker gave Wash a look. “Really? He’s wearing rubber boots.”

“Which are insulated from electrocution,” Washington said without pause.

Slowly, Tucker picked Junior back up and held onto him defensively. “What the hell are you planning on doing to the children, Wash?”

“What? Nothing! I didn’t mean it like--” Wash stopped himself and shook his head. “Nevermind. I was just being hyperbolic.”

“Is that a superhero term?” Tucker asked, holding onto Junior despite his son’s struggling to get free.

“No,” Wash said deadpanned just before there was the sound of multiple feet running in their direction. Wash turned and looked as the four teenagers from the courthouse made it to them breathlessly. “Good! You’ve come, and five minutes early. Not to mention you had the foresight to hide your identities by not bringing your personal vehicles with you and hiding them off sight. Very forward thinking.”

The four were catching their breaths. 

“Actually,” the one who was scantily clad save for the outrageous cape all but gulped down with his air. “None of us have cars. So we had to catch a bus here. Didn’t even know buses run to this part of town.”

“Oh,” Wash said, rubbing at his neck. “Okay, I’ll be sure to clarify transport with the four of you for next time. But it does show initiative that you changed and hid your clothes in the area. That’s also smart. Did you change in one of the alleys or abandoned buildings?”

Again, a silence fell over the group awkwardly and Jensen rubbed at her arm. “Aw, geesh,” she slurred through her braces. “We kinda rode here in costume.”

Tucker began laughing behind him as Wash stared at the group in disbelief.

“On... the public bus?” Wash asked critically.

“Were we not supposed to do that, Washington, Sir?” the tallest one asked worriedly.

“I told you it was stupid,” the one in orange accents snapped at the group.

“I was just suggesting to be practical!” the scantily clad one cried out.

“Palomo, you just want to show off your tight bod!” Jensen seethed. 

“Which is not built,” the yellow one snapped with a shake of his head.

“I’m built! I do cross fit!” Palomo defended. 

“Okay, enough!” Washington ordered, getting everyone’s attention back on him. “I’m partially to blame for this, I didn’t go over the basics when we initially met with the mayors. I’m aiming to correct that mistake starting today. So let’s start with an introduction. My name is Washington. I am a senior hero, used to be with the superhero team known as the Freelancers--”

“I used to have all your comics!!!” Jensen exploded with excitement. “On the fan forums I used to multiship you with almost all the other Freelancers! My OTP was definitely you and Maine!”

Wash glanced toward her. “Which... of course is not disconcerting or creepy to me at all.” He then continued, “Before Freelancer I went through the sidekick program as Epsilon. And since Freelancer’s disbandment after the Invasion I have taken up residence here in Blood Gulch to become something of a nighttime vigilante.”

The group watched him in awe. 

“Now, I’m going to teach the four of you what I know and, hopefully, help you to become the heroes this city needs,” Wash said further.

“But are they the ones it deserves?” Tucker all but sniggered in the background.

Wash gave him a look before seeing the way Junior was hiding behind his father’s legs, only peaking out to look at the new heroes with caution from time to time. 

“Which reminds me,” Wash said, turning to the group. “Introductions are in order. I need names and I need the kind of powers we’re dealing with.”

“Sir, yessir!” the tall one in blue said with a salute. “My name is John Elizabeth Andersmith!” He then flexed, each part of his body that showed skin suddenly morphed before their eyes to a shiny, metallic color. “I can turn my skin into an organic metal.”

“That’s astounding,” Wash said, blinking. He then thought harder about it and tilted his head. “What do you mean by organic metal?” 

“Sir?” Andersmith asked back curiously. 

“Organic elements and metallic ones aren’t... usually the same,” Wash tried to explain. “So when you say organic metal do you mean like a metal that’s in your body components naturally? Like copper or iron or zinc? Or...”

“I’m... not sure,” Andersmith said. “Isn’t all metal the same?”

“They have different strengths, different melting points,” Wash continued before shaking his head. “You know what? It’s really something we can figure out later. And we will figure it out later. I need to know if you can walk through lava or not without melting.”

“Lava?” the kids repeated in alarm.

“Again, Wash, I ask just what the hell you’re doing in these training sessions,” Tucker called from beside him. 

Giving his boyfriend an expectant stare, Wash expected for Tucker to back off but he merely crossed his arms and looked expectantly back. Sighing and giving in, Wash looked back to the teenagers. 

Katie Jensen, the secretary Wash remembered readily, stepped forward. She was so excited she was verging on hyperventilating. 

“Are you alright?” Wash asked. 

“I-I’m g-great!” she wheezed. “Just. Wow. Excited. Oh! I’m also Katie Jensen and-and-and... Powers! Right. Okay, I’m magnetic! Not, like, personality or anything. Heh. I mean. Wow, it’s super awkward to be around someone in person. That you didn’t treat like a person. And shipped with other real-people. Wow. Okay. Hi.”

Washington rubbed his shoulder. “Right. Let’s just... not discuss that part.”

“Oh! Yeah. Okay. That makes sense,” she said, voice getting more slurred and blubbery as her cheeks lit up. “Stupid, Jensen, stupid. Get it together, girl.”

“Taking sympathy on the young woman, Wash tried to edge her in the right direction. “You were telling us that you’re magnetic. You mind expanding on that a bit?”

“Of course!” she half-shouted, throwing up her arms in excitement. Sure enough, as she did so, an explosive burst came out from her -- moving Tucker’s car back onto the curb, knocking most of her teammates over, and causing the knives at Wash’s utility belt to be thrown backward.

Fortunately, Wash moved fast, flipping back and grabbing each of the throwing knives before they hit Tucker’s car, or, more importantly, Tucker and Junior. 

“Holy shit! My car!” Tucker bemoaned.

Curious, Wash glanced toward the vehicle. It literally looked no different than it had beforehand, but that didn’t mean anything. 

“Right, magnetism,” Wash finally said, looking back to Jensen. “Thank you for the display.”

Jensen, however, was not as excited and was sitting, hugging her knees and berating herself under her breath. 

“Guess that means I’m next!” the scantily clad one said, stepping out ahead of everyone.

Wash pressed his lips to a thin line. “Oh, good,” he said at least seventy-five percent sarcastic. Fortunately, it went right over the enthusiastic teenager’s head as he stretched and flexed and then grabbed onto the edges of his cape for dramatic effect as he swung his hips.

“Please turn invisible,” Wash said to himself, forcing himself to not look away.

"My name is Charles Palomo,” he announced with a swish of his hips.

“Oh gawd,” Tucker said, aghast.

“And my massively impressive, incredibly sexy power is...” He released his cape and waved his hands in front of him, skin shining and sparks igniting from his fingertips. “I... sparkle!”

Blinking a few times, Washington tried desperately to process the moment. Then he turned his head almost on its side. “You... sparkle?” he clarified. 

“I sparkle!” Palomo replied enthusiastically. 

“Oh my gawd,” the remaining teenager groaned. 

“Right. Okay,” Washington said, not even sure what to do with the information.

“Hey, I don’t know about being a superhero, but I can direct him to the nearest strip club. They’d love to give the fog machine a rest while maintaining their kitsch aesthetic,” Tucker laughed.

“You know, that���s not the most helpful input you could be giving me right now,” Washington told him.

“Who said I was here to be helpful? I relish in being a civilian compared to all you assholes in tights,” Tucker laughed. “I mean, you ever saw Church’s full getup?”

“No, and I can’t even imagine it,” Wash said with a wave of his hand. “Okay we only have one more -- what’s your name?”

The last stood his ground and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I’m Bitters. I do stuff with fire. I don’t feel the need to show off.”

Wash frowned. “This isn’t a show and tell, this is your first training session. It would help us all tremendously if we all knew what we were working with, Bitters.”

“Yeah, I don’t feel like it,” Bitters replied.

Wash pinched his nose and took a heralding breath. “It’s fine, it’s fine, we’ll work with this,” he muttered to himself before clapping his hands together. “Okay! Well, we have a good variety of meta powers here. And hopefully through training we’ll be able to learn how to work off of one another’s powers and strengths. It’s going to take a lot of training and evaluation.” He glanced toward Palomo again and then to the others. “And training. And more training. I cannot emphasize enough that we’re going to need a hell of a lot of training. But fortunately the variety here is--”

Without warning, there was a loud “HONK!” from behind Washington which caused him to turn on his heels to face the familiar sound.

“What the hell is that?” Bitters asked.

Tucker grabbed his hair in horror, words trying to escape his throat and failing to come out as more than strangled noise.

But Wash, Wash just found himself filled with a strange pride and genuinely being impressed. 

Junior stood underneath the family car, lifting it over his tiny head before he threw it a bit forward with a BLARGH and getting it off the curb after Jensen’s little explosion. 

“That,” Washington answered as Tucker raced over to Junior’s side and checked him out, “is your new teammate and my current trainee -- the Extraterrestrial Kid.”

Tucker shot Washington a dirty look but the rest of the superheroes all clapped and nodded happily in agreement with the choice of teammate. 

“We’ll work on codenames for all of you eventually,” Wash said, turning back toward the teenagers. “But until then, we work on your teamwork, your perserverance, and your general aptitude for the job ahead of you. I’m not going to be going easy on any of you, because the villains and monsters you’ll run into on a daily basis as superheroes have no interest in going easy on you. And my job is to make sure you all stay alive and well despite that.”

The teenagers immediately looked like they almost regretted the opportunity that had been offered to the.

Wash rubbed his neck. “Uh... then we’ll go to a nearby diner I really love and get milkshakes.”

“Yes!” “Alright!” “Fuck yeah!” “At least we’re getting something out of this.”

Breathing with relief at the show of approval, Wash then watched as Junior fought to get away from Tucker’s overly concerned nursing and protectiveness and took off to go stand by his new teammates, not at all deterred by either the quality of his costume, his height or lack thereof, or the fact that he, of course, was non-human. 

It accented for Wash what a ragtag group he had before him. 

This was going to be a challenge.

Jensen raised her hand patiently like she was in a lecture hall. 

“Um, Washington, Sir?” she asked timidly. “Not that we’re not super excited and that anyone would doubt a veteran of so many cool things like you... but why are we in the worst part of the city for this training instead of the training room the mayors have built for us?”

Tucker puffed out his bottom lip. “Worst part of town? Seriously?”

“You’re here because no matter what skills you were born with, or what rules you’re told on the first day, nothing is going to show you just where your powers and skill levels are at or give you a clue as to how to work together as a team like a real-life trial,” Washington explained. “Which is why I called in a favor from some friends.”

The kids looked perplexed just before an echo of polka music could be heard echoing around the street corner. 

Washington looked back down to his wrist and then to Tucker. “Right on time.”

“How’d you manage that?” Tucker asked. “That’s almost more impressive than the fact you kept a straight face through most of that bullcrap you were talking to these kids. The Reds haven’t been right on time for anything in their entire lives. Combined.”

Wash shrugged and gave a small smirk Tucker’s way. “I gave them the same time as the kids to be here and then just assumed it’d be about fifteen to twenty minutes later.”

“Smart,” Tucker replied, unable to stop the small smirk he had in response. 

Without any further ado, the Reds pulled up their jeep right beside Tucker’s car and revealed to be in full costume, looking curiously at the kids.

“Whoo!” Donut said, giving a thumbs up to Palomo. “Nice sparkles!”

“Thanks!” Palomo responded.

“What’d you want us here for, Wash? Is there some kinda freak costume parade in Blood Gulch no one warned us about?” Grif asked dully. 

“I want you guys here to... have some fun,” Wash explained cryptically before turning back to the teenagers and Junior. “Everyone, this is the Red Dead Blood Gulch Gang. They’re a group of vandals and anarchists that are on the mend.”

“Yeah, unwillingly,” Grif countered.

“They like to paint stoplights, steal gasoline from gas stations that are overcharging, and break windows of buildings to make a point,” Wash continued. 

“We do?” Simmons asked.

“Is that why we brought all these paint cans?” Donut asked.

“They also like to run over superheroes that try to stop them,” Wash said with a slight glare their way which was enough to silence the majority of the Reds and make Sarge chuckle deviously. “So I suppose you could call them armed and dangerous.”

Grif tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Dude, what the actual fuck. I thought you were rehabilitating us and all that shit?”

"Oh, I am,” Wash assured them. “And there’s nothing better to teach you a lesson about the downsides of rampant crime than to be hounded by a bunch of super powered teenagers.”

“You’re going to let them chase us around Blood Gulch!?” Simmons cried out.

“You are!?” the kids said excitedly.

“Yes,” Wash answered. “And I want you, Reds, to show these kids what the price of their inactions, failures, or mistakes in the field are by vandalizing any uninhabited property between here and the junkyard,” Wash explained. “All of which they have to clean up if they lose you, and you have to clean up if they catch you.”

The Reds stared at him before leaning in toward each other and loudly whispering between each other. Then they sat back up. 

“Challenge accepted, dirtbag!” Sarge announced. “By the way, hate your new costume. Blue and yellow is disgusting!” 

Without any further warning, Grif stomped down on the gas pedal and took off down the street to the whooping scream of an excited Donut.

“Wait!” Jensen cried out. “How’re we supposed to catch them?” she asked. 

Wash leaned back and shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what you’re going to show me. I’d hurry if I were you, though. I can guarantee their first crimes are going to be ignoring stoplights and stop signs.”

The kids all looked at each other and then took off with a scream. 

Just as Wash had worried they would, they immediately split up without any game plan. “Well,” he sighed as Tucker walked up to his side. “This is going to take a long time.”

“The fact that you’re a bad coach might be at least partially to blame for that, Wash,” Tucker replied with a raised brow. “You’ve not given them any instruction! Any ideas!”

“I know,” Wash said. “Today isn’t about that. Today is about showing them everything they don’t know. Break them in. Make that over confidence they have from having super powers disappear.”

Tucker stared at him. “That’s fucked up.”

“That’s what my mentor did to me,” Wash said with a shrug. “She was the best influence I ever had.”

“Aw, now that just hurts my feelings, Wash,” Tex’s voice called from behind them. 

Surprised, both Wash and Tucker turned and were faced with Tex as she casually reappeared from her invisibility. 

"Tex!” Tucker said enthusiastically before they fist bumped each other. 

“Nice, Wash,” she said, eyes flicking up to him. “You got started without me, asshole.”

“You laughed at me on the phone, you said no,” Washington reminded her.

“I laughed, that wasn’t a no,” she shrugged. 

“Well, I’ll introduce you after this practice run ends,” Wash said, looking back toward the streets the teams had ran down, hearing some screeching and yells as well as a light show of sparks in the air. “It... might end quicker than expected. One way or the other.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Tex said with a wave of her hand. “I don’t... do the kid thing. Or the responsibility thing, or the revealing I’m alive to most people thing. It’s for the best that way. Keeping to the shadows.”

Wash pointed at his chest. “That’s what I wanted to do--”

“But now the government knows everything about you. Congrats,” Tex reminded him. “Which is another reason I’m late,” she said, glancing toward the rooftops. “Tell me, Wash, how long have you been tailed by someone?”

Confused, Washington crossed his arms. “Tailed? I’ve not been tailed. I would have noticed--”

“You are tailed,” she said. “Guy was here even before I was, watching you all. Didn’t get a great look at him and he noticed me and took off before I could get closer and take them out. Somehow they noticed me with my invisibility.” 

“That’s... not great,” Tucker lamp shaded. 

“What did they want?” Wash demanded, more than a little worried. 

“I didn’t catch them, Wash,” she reminded him. “But they were very interested in your little pow wow here. And if I had to take a guess... they’re going to continue to be.”

She began to disappear again at the second sound of an explosion a few blocks over. “Watch out for yourselves, guys. I’m not always going to pop up and save your asses at the last minute.”

Washington watched her disappear before rolling his eyes nearly back into his skull. “Most unhelpful partner ever. Of all time.”

“Wash, this sounds pretty serious,” Tucker said worriedly.

“Almost as serious as your crankiness factor lately,” Wash said, glancing toward him. “You ready to talk about that while we--”

There was a huge crashing noise and Wash sighed. 

“Later, Superhero,” Tucker said, waving Wash off. “Go clean up your extremely bad idea. Let me worry about my family. Alone. Again.”

Wash raised a brow at him before doing as instructed. 

It was something they could talk about later, obviously.

[asterdeer]

i need to be writing monster rn but ive been thinking and lorechance literally all weekend just to stay sane and i realized that i keep writing/thinking of them when they’re already in an established relationship which is crazy because the real fun of lorechance would be the development because while levleaf is fun because lev is an actually Good Person and loreleaf is immediately starstruck by her straightforward goodness chance is Not a Good Person and loreleaf is immediately like “no. this one, i hate this one more than i hate most people and that’s A Lot” and chance gets the message pretty much instantly because he’s a smart boi and he reads people really well and he’s like “THAT’S frustrating, it’s almost like i have no self-worth, it’s almost like this random pretty boy hating my guts instantly is destroying the only way i feel good about myself, ie. my attractiveness/charm!! haha wowie” and he avoids loreleaf at first but they have to work together and they’re in the same house and loreleaf keeps sneaking out even though he’s not supposed to and EVERYONE knows it’s because he can’t stand chance and chance is standing there silently dying inside with his smile literally cut into his face and it might make loreleaf feel bad if chance acted pathetic but chance just backhanded-compliments loreleaf every time and walks away and they’re both making each other MISERABLE

but like that’s impossible to maintain so they start actively fighting. loreleaf can’t get out of the house and chance makes sure he’s nearby whenever loreleaf is looking REALLY anxious/antsy/miserable so he can talk the forest kid’s ear off and tear down his defenses even MORE. and loreleaf can only hold himself in out of fear of unchecked retribution for so long because inside he’s constantly like (ง'̀-'́)ง when he’s around chance and eventually he actually hits chance (loreleaf’s culture is.........not good with nonbinary and while he is male he doesn’t really look fully masculine and chance knows that loreleaf is really sensitive about being perceived as even lesser than he already sees himself as. that’s probably the line chance crosses at some point) and you know, loreleaf is not good at fighting and chance is a very good assassin so chance isn’t hurt but he automatically starts to fight back and loreleaf just fucking drops and shields himself as best he can and chance realizes that loreleaf wasn’t trying to start a fair fight, he was just getting in the first blow before he got genuinely beaten up and he freaks out. he leaves. and loreleaf is just sitting there, curled up against a wall with his arms over his head, wondering what went wrong or right or whatever

and you know who has nightmares: chance. who is basically known for their horrific nightmares: loreleaf. loreleaf hears chance having them at some point. it’s sobering. they’ve seen underneath each other’s armor. 

they still bicker a lot (read: at every opportunity) but some of the fire has gone out of it and they’re even kind of awkward because knowing the person whose guts you hate is actually human and struggling and kind of terrified all the time is unsettling. they don’t know how to act around each other so the outright fighting has settled into this simmering mumbling passive-aggressive battle of judgmental comments and chance has gone back to his smarmy charming flirtatious ways and loreleaf gets disgusted every time chance tries it on him but every time he threatens violence it’s like the both of them remembers what happened the last time and they both get really awkward and look away and quiet down

and they invariably end up saving each other’s lives a few times each and they’re both humiliated every time and it’s always one of those “GET AWAY FROM ME I HAD IT COVERED” situations (”YOU DID NOT HAVE IT COVERED YOU SPOILED FLIRT/YOU USELESS PRETTY BOY, LOOK I LITERALLY SHOT THE MAN WITH HIS KNIFE TO YOUR THROAT, GODS I HATE YOU”) and maybe something happens like “the gone fishin job” leverage episode and they end up alone and stranded in the woods together and loreleaf is SMIRKING LOUDLY because for once he’s better equipped to survive and chance has never hated a version of loreleaf more than the smug self-satisfied version one (but tbh it’s also kind of hot?? shut up, what) but anyway bonding in the woods happens. maybe having to spend the night in the woods and cuddling For Body Heat. it could happen. chance is the little spoon

anyway after the undetermined Bonding Episode they just sort of.......ease up on each other but they’re still constantly irritated that the other exists, it’s just calmer and more resigned and chance's comments about loreleaf being a pretty boy get less mean-spirited and more designed to make loreleaf blush (he does) and chance gets to show off some of his more positive attributes and against his will loreleaf is kind of like “uuuUUUUuuuuguhhghhgghg he’s kind of cool. i hate everything so much” and loreleaf isn’t particularly good at fighting or strategizing but he’s good at self-discipline and survival and chance respects that and he occasionally gets heart-eyes when someone says something dumb and loreleaf claps back with something devastatingly sarcastic, if only under his breath (chance is close enough to listen, why is that weird?? shut up, what)

and you know this post only exists because lorechance is THE couple who has their first kiss while they’re fighting. who confesses their love while they’re insulting each other. chance asks loreleaf why his teasing has been bothering loreleaf more lately than it has and loreleaf gets cagey and defensive and chance does the flirtatious backhanded compliment thing until loreleaf is so frustrated that he shouts “I HATE IT WHEN YOU MAKE FUN OF ME BECAUSE I LOVE YOU AND I DON’T LIKE IT SO STOP” but he shouts it in torkan and it takes chance another thirty minutes to wrangle the confession out of him in his broken english and by the end loreleaf is near tears bc chance just isn’t getting it and he doesn’t know how to say it any more straighforwardly because he’s never done it before so he just darts forward and gives chance the quickest, most frustrated, clumsiest kiss of all time and he’s about to fuckin run out of the room before chance grabs his hand and loreleaf realizes he’s grinning like an idiot and it’s almost like the smile scars don’t exist

and like, a lot of their relationship happens before then. there are some quiet, serious hugs when they’re tired or when chance gets himself a little drunk and melancholy and loreleaf listens to him talk about sevens and what went wrong (loreleaf doesn’t know about what chance has done besides assassinating until a long time after, but he still knows that chance left sev because of what he did for “work”) and chance wakes loreleaf up after nightmares a few times and listens to him cry about stormy, and once or twice they even have discussions about parents. they both agree they would exchange their parental situation with the other, and they both agree that the other is an idiot for it: chance would do anything for real parents, and loreleaf would do anything for an opportunity not to have been with them when his parents were killed. chance tries to get loreleaf to drink a few times but loreleaf is against it for religious reasons and because he doesn’t want to be out of control and chance understands (but doesn’t stop himself)

there’s even a few instances before The Confession where they come dangerously close to snuggling, like during the nightmares and during the Bonding In The Woods episode and once when brightsword is gone longer than he’s supposed to be and chance finds loreleaf having a meltdown in the bathroom and they talk about not wanting to be alone and loreleaf realizes that chance is alone and he accepts when chance offers the not-cuddle because maybe both of them need that contact 

and LIKE they still argue a LOT after the confession, it’s essentially how they function as a couple, chance flirting and making innuendos and loreleaf rolling his eyes and distancing himself from the embarrassment standing next to him, but when they’re not actually talking to each other, people notice how chance looks at loreleaf, with this complicated, almost closed-off, almost frightened look on his face, like he never saw a real person before now (of course he has, but now he knows how much a real person can hurt him, and he’s given loreleaf a lot of power to hurt him, and what’s really scary is how much he trusts loreleaf not to). it’s almost reverent. and his blustering, seductive body language quiets down and the way he doesn’t touch loreleaf as much at first almost seems even more respectful and romantic because he touches people as much as standard personal space mores allow (of course this is before loreleaf is trusting enough to reveal that he’s A Slut For Casual Touch, at which point chance is all OVER that with the hand-holding and shoulder massaging and even lap-sitting)

and everyone notices how much more open loreleaf’s expression is around chance, how he looks at chance almost like he looks at trees or brightsword, like he can finally be around chance, just be himself: it’s like relaxation but with stars in his fire-colored eyes. and a very few of his most extreme shielding-type body language is softened and he rests his head against chance’s shoulder and wraps their arms together and gently combs his hair through chance’s soft curly hair, all of his own volition

and they’d be SO happy in this weird way, bickering while sitting in each other’s laps, pretending to punch each other while their fingers are literally entwined, savagely insulting each other with their foreheads pressed together. and not many people actually see this, bc loreleaf is not an open person and he’s the opposite of free with his PDA and chance respects that. but the people who do see it just have to smile, because what else are they supposed to do with this thought running on repeat in their heads:

what a couple of fucking weirdos