#i might go back and try to reinforce the wings so they stand up better in backpack mode

[ghostlycorvid]

I've wanted to make a plush bag/backpack for ages. I took some inspiration from some of the other cute little wing backpacks I've seen around and combined the idea. The wings ended up a little floppy but I still adore how this came out!

I drew up Volcarona's wings and head details and got it printed on custom minky through Spoonflower, and had the rest of the fabric already laying around. :D

Straps can be adjusted to be worn as a crossbody bag or a backpack!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 309: Gotta Go My Own Way

Previously on BnHA: Muscular was all “well if it isn’t the protagonist on his solo journey of self-discovery, for some reason I’m unironically glad I get to fight you!” Deku was all “hey Muscular before I finish kicking your ass would you please take a moment to answer these two survey questions? Question one, do you regret being a total piece of shit? And question two, if you could do anything at all in the world other than being a total piece of shit, would you?” Muscular was all, “pfft, no and no.” Deku was all, “thanks buddy, your feedback helps make me a better hero, here’s a coupon for fifteen percent off your next ass-whooping.” Then he whooped his ass.

Today on BnHA: Deku is all “what up All Might can you believe you’ve been here this entire time?” All Might is all “I sure can since that’s literally my catch phrase, anyway how are your magic movie 1 gauntlets holding up?” Deku is all “they’re holding up fine, how are Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist doing?” Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist are all “we, your fellow co-conspirators, are also doing fine, thanks for asking!” Flashback!Deku is all “anyway so I secretly have All Might’s quirk and the most dangerous people in the world are after me, so sorry mom but that’s why I’m dropping out of school.” Inko is all “I CAN’T ACCEPT THAT” while totally accepting it. All Might is all “I GUESS WE’LL JUST HAVE TO GO ALONG WITH IT SINCE I DON’T FEEL LIKE TRYING TO STOP HIM.” Hawks, Jeanist, and Endeavor, as previously mentioned, are all “yeah that sounds like a good plan”, and Gran is all “see ya kid, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” So basically everyone in the entire world has suddenly teamed up with Deku to defeat AFO, except for the one person whose entire foreshadowed endgame is “teaming up with Deku to defeat AFO.” O Kacchan where art thou.

dear tumblr image limit: okay look. you don’t like me, and I don’t like you. but just as an experiment, I’m gonna try writing this recap with as few images as possible and we’ll see how it goes

(ETA: spoilers for how it went: it didn’t, lol.)

oh my god WHY ARE WE OPENING WITH MORE KETSUBUTSU ACADEMY KIDS.ffs we’d better at least finally get some Ms. Joke content out of this

(ETA: seriously who do I have to bribe.)

so these two KB kids who no one cares about are watching Deku leap away from the scene after dispatching Muscular. but more importantly wtf is this chapter title omg. “I can’t stay being a child” so that’s how it is huh. we’re gonna have feels and we’re going to like them. well then

oh my god he’s hauling Muscular away dhfksklfkh okay this is gonna have to be our first image because I can’t fucking help myself. look at this

just. Deku is so tiny and he’s carting away this massive unconscious lump of a man like it’s nothing why is this so funny to me. it’s like when people buy furniture, and they don’t want to pay extra for delivery and so they’re like, “I can definitely fit this king-sized mattress in the back of my compact sedan if I fold the fucking seat down, idk.” and they refuse to be talked out of it, and the next thing you know you’re watching them drive home with their open trunk door haphazardly tied down with bungee cords, and somehow it fucking works. because it turns out the compact sedan has super strength

anyway for SOME REASON now Horikoshi is all “have fun with that Deku, meanwhile we now return you to your regularly scheduled SHINDOU CONTENT” whyyyyyy

look at this. we’re really using up a whole fucking entire page on everyone arguing over who gets the honor of carrying Shindou

love how the civilians are all, “shit lol is this actually our fault?? quick, how do we play this off all casual like we were the reasonable parties here all along”

turns out all it took to finally get them to listen was making them watch while a kid got his insides ground into a pulp because of their stupidity!! what a heartwarming conclusion to this little standoff

anyways THANK GOD we’re cutting back to Deku now!! well actually we’re cutting back to Muscular who is being dropped off at the police precinct, good bye and good riddance lol

so Deku’s leaving him there and bounding away and okjdlSKFJLKJDSL OH MY GOD

no fucking way. no fucking way this little jaunt is All Might-sanctioned and approved. are you serious?? then who else is in on this?? what the hell is going on

so All Might is just WAITING FOR HIM IN AN ALLEY FFF WHO ARE YOU, JIM GORDON. or would Alfred be a better analogy here?? but like, Alfred if he ditched the suit for a moto jacket and shades

this new ensemble of All Might’s may or may not severely impact my ability to take this forthcoming conversation seriously; please stand by

also, quite the spectacular landing there, Deku. seriously lol what was that

“HOW ARE YOUR LIMBS” “THANKS TO YOU THEY’RE COMPLETELY FINE” I’M SORRY WHAT

LOL WHAT. “THANKS TO THE POWER OF THESE MAGIC GLOVES” OH I SEE THAT EXPLAINS IT

are these the same gauntlets from the first movie, then? well that’s all well and good, except that now there’s going to be more Deku Discourse than fucking ever lol. so if it’s all the same to you guys, I’m gonna once again go ahead and declare this week’s post a discourse-free zone, at least when it comes to the specific discourse of Deku’s merits as a MC, and the impact that him kicking ass and having working arms has on said merits. this has been something of a low mental energy week for me, so I’d rather reserve the energy I do have for more fun topics, such as All Might’s bitchin’ leather jacket

anyway so All Might’s saying that the gauntlets will help reinforce Deku’s arms, but they can’t withstand OFA at 100%. so basically it’s a support item designed to maintain the status quo lol. we’re basically in the same situation we were before, arm-capability-wise

homg All Might’s getting a call. time to see who else is in on Operation: Deku Alone?? or not so alone for that matter

omg

HI HAWKS, WHERE ARE YOUR WINGS

(ETA: seriously are they really gone for good?? why would he even be back on active duty then?? does he have his own American ex-boyfriend who can hook him up with exclusive support items?? dammit Horikoshi we want answers.)

looks like Jeanist and Endeavor are teaming up as well, just like they said they would. I would gladly follow this trio around all day long tbh

is this the same giant villain from the very first chapter??

looks like it to me, and it would tie in with that callback from the end of chapter 306. we all thought that was Muscular, but maybe it was this guy, and Deku left these three to deal with him while he ran off to take Muscular down

oh my god now Deku is running off again just like that

kids these days

ffffff I have not had nearly enough sleep to follow along with whatever tf Hawks is talking about here sob

like, is he trying to say that All Might is keeping Deku’s whereabouts unknown to anyone except for him?? in order to keep him safe?? but Hawks is pointing out that that’s a bad strategy and probably won’t do shit against AFO and it’s better if he lets Deku work with the rest of them?

(ETA: so @hanashimas​’ translation makes a lot more sense -- it’s not All Might who’s being overprotective, but Deku. in other words he’s trying not to drag All Might into his battles. and in addition Hawks is saying that their strategy is to take the offensive and go after AFO themselves rather than wait for him to come to them. which I’m not too sure about myself, but that’s another topic for another day.)

btw I can’t help thinking how much better this entire conversation would be if All Might was still wearing his sunglasses. put them back on my dude. it’s not too late. embrace your inner badass

DKLJSLDKFJL FLASHBACK ALERT, FUCKING FINALLY

“turns out, we were just trying to scare you straight. fuck lot of good that did though lol”

also what is this. one true love: the hospital bed. is that a scanlator joke or is Horikoshi actually that funny omg

SKLJDFLJLK

ITSA ME!! omg I love this hospital so much. though it’s sure not helping me in my quest to try and keep this post below ten images. I’m already up to eleven haha r.i.p. to me if tumblr doesn’t get its shit together

whaaaaaat, so he’s saying that Deku’s injuries were external (i.e. Tomura beating the shit out of him) rather than internal this time?? whaaaaat. excuse me but that’s some bullshit lmao. believe me, I was there

okay now he’s going on to explain that Deku’s “internal structure” seems to have been protected from the inside and out, and the corresponding panel seems to be implying that using Blackwhip as a brace paid off. huh

and also that his body is just stronger now?? so I guess he’s better able to withstand the quirk after an additional year of training?? I’M NOT SURE IF I BUY ANY OF THIS LOL but I’m willing to suspend my disbelief

OH MY GOD RED ALERT, INKO IS ASKING ALL MIGHT TO EXPLAIN WTAF DEKU’S QUIRK IS, IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGG

SO HE’S EXPLAINING IT TO HER OFF-SCREEN, AND INKO IS JUST LIKE

I GUESS THAT’S FAIR LOL. IT’S TRUE INKO I’M SO SORRY, YOUR SON IS A PROGATONIST R.I.P.

AHHKKJH DEKU ANGST IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGGGG

what is this soft pop beat that’s suddenly being pumped in over the speakers. I’VE GOT TO MOVE ON~ AND BE WHO~ I~ AM~~~, I JUST DON’T BELONG HERE, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAND. also, follow-up question, when is Kacchan finally going to come back so he can jump in with the “WHAT ABOUT US~~~” bridge, huh. come the fuck on, Horikoshi

lmao All Might jesus christ

but given that it’s a stupid-ass decision...

anyway, yes!! finally that sweet, sweet “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger” angst!!

mmm that’s good angst Brent. Kacchan with center panel honors as usual, you love to see it. anyways though who do I have to yell at to get Deku a goddamn HUG around here seriously

so Inko is of course reacting with panic, and sensibly saying that she doesn’t approve of Deku’s “RUN AWAY AND FIGHT THE BAD GUYS ALL ON MY OWN, DON’T WORRY MOM I’LL JUST GET STRONGER, EASY AS PIE, IT’S A FOOLPROOF STRATEGY” plan

son of a bitch this manipulative green asshole is really gonna sit here and smile fondly at his mom and try to convince her that he’s Not A Little Kid Anymore. the hell you’re not mister

y'all are really just gonna sit there and let him talk you into this?? surely it can’t be that easy??

OH MY GOD

THE FEELS oh my god oh my god. BUT ALSO YOU’RE SERIOUSLY JUST GOING TO COLLAPSE INTO HIS ARMS SOBBING AND LET HIM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS LKJLJLFK. WHERE ARE ALL THE STRICT PARENTS AT?? AIZAWA, GANG ORCA, MITSUKI, SOMEONE PLEASE COME AND TELL DEKU TO SIT HIS ASS THE FUCK DOWN. NOW LISTEN HERE YOUNG MAN!!

“EVEN IF I TRY TO STOP YOU YOU’LL STILL LEAVE” WELL SURE, IF BY “TRY TO STOP HIM” YOU MEAN POLITELY TRY TO TALK HIM OUT OF IT FOR THREE SECONDS. HE’S SIXTEEN WTF WHEN DID HE BECOME THE BOSS OF YOU ALL. SOMEONE NEEDS TO COME AND TELL HIM HE’S GROUNDED

anyway sob so that’s the story of how Deku talked his parents into letting him drop out of school, and even convinced All Might to be his own personal Guy In The Chair. holy shit. this kid really went and rolled a nat 20 and the rest of them had no choice but to fold without argument

meanwhile here’s a panel of Best Jeanist trying to braid his phone into his hair just cuz

I’m dying to know which part of his language he considers to be crude here. you literally didn’t even use a contraction my guy

so now flashback!Deku is talking to Gran in the dark, and Gran is all “can you believe I’m not fucking dead yet lol that’s too funny. anyway, you sure I can’t interest you in killing Tomura after all?? no?? okay then here’s my cape.” truly a heartwarming scene

I’m kind of torn here tbh. on the one hand, my adhd ass wasn’t all that interested in sitting down and having an extended scene between these two when there’s so much else that I want to get to. but on the other hand, even I can admit that cramming this entire reunion into a single page seems just a BIT rushed. idk. like maybe someone can let Horikoshi know it’s a marathon and not a race. Deku didn’t even get any dialogue here, some of us want to know his thoughts!! but anyway

AND JUST LIKE THAT?!

how did all four of them let him con them into this. I literally just watched it happen and I still can’t figure out how. “I GUESS THIS SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT IS OUR LEADER NOW” ffflfjf. when Aizawa finds out he’s gonna go apeshit. AND DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BAKUGOU KATSUKI, WHO I HAVE BEEN ASSURED DOES IN FACT STILL EXIST. WHAT ABOUT USSSSS, WHAT ABOUT EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH. WHAT ABOUT TRUST???! YOU KNOW I NEVER WANTED TO HURT YOUUUUU

btw lol don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying this, and I’m honestly glad Deku’s not alone because that would suck for him! but that said, Hawks and Jeanist have lost any credibility they might have once had as far as being The Responsible Ones, and as for All Might and Endeavor, fucking hell lol. everyone just deposited all of their fucks in a bank somewhere for safekeeping and decided to never look back. godspeed you mad lads

[loversandantiheroes]

Anything else you'd care to tell us about what gets Frankie off (aside from manhandling you and getting you off)? 👀👀

SO!  This was gonna be a nice little bullet point list, but then I got a little stuck on what would be on it and ended up distracted thinking about a couple specific points while I was hopped up on anxiety and too little sleep and too much caffeine so now it’s just a whole goddamn fic!  I have been staring at this for so long I have no idea if it’s good anymore so Happy Thanksgiving / I’m sorry, YMMV.

Risk and Reward

Excruciatingly shameless Frankie/F!Reader smut, 4.2k+ words (don’t ask me I don’t know what happened either), unbeta’d bc I’m impatient and the offered beta-er went to sleep, moderately edited bc I cannot linear a thought process.

Warnings: praise kink, risky sex, dirty talk, road hand (this is apparently what it’s called???), semi-public sex, semi-feral Frankie, car sex (truck sex?), unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I fictionalize), cream pie, implied come-eating (not actually shown).

Pedro Perma-taglist: @littleferal, @thirstworldproblemss, @corvueros

It’s nothing you mean to start.  It’s just a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and a soft mutter of “Good job, baby,” when Frankie thrashes Benny at a game of pool at the bar.  It’s been a rough week, and it’s good to see him enjoying himself and not propped up miserably on your couch while you try to work the knots out of his shoulders and neck for the fourth night in a row.  He preens a little at the attention, eyes downcast but with a crooked smile that stops just on the verge of smug.  You loop your arm around his waist to keep him close, hooking your fingers under his belt, and as Frankie raises his head for a proper kiss you catch a wicked little glimmer in his eye.

His mouth hits yours and there’s nothing telling in that, it’s perfectly sweet and nearly chaste, but his hand slips up to the back of your neck, squeezing gently like a thank you.  The wheels in your head are turning a little slow courtesy of the drink you’ve been nursing while you watched Frankie play, and it takes a long, long moment for the thought to finally land: he likes it when you praise him.  It was possibly the easiest of his inclinations to find - the first time you’d taken him to bed and locked your ankles around him and told him how fucking good he felt had dragged such a gut-wrenching sound out of him you’d thought he’d pulled a muscle until he’d begun to move faster. 

You hadn’t considered that maybe that might push his buttons outside of the bedroom, but now you’re thinking maybe it’s worth a try.

Frankie tugs you along back to the table to sit, scooting close enough that your chairs knock into each other whenever one of you shifts, but it’s enough for you to lean into the crook of his arm comfortably.  You drift through the conversation, not feeling any pressing need to be included, just pleased to be close enough to feel the way laughter buzzes through Frankie’s chest.

“What about you, Fish?  How’s the mechanic gig working out?”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he says.  “It’s work.”

You nudge him with your elbow.  “Understatement of the century, baby.”

Frankie inclines his head in reluctant agreement.  “We’re shorthanded right now, I’ve been picking up extra shifts.  But the boss isn’t a complete prick, and it’s good money, so…”  He trails off, shrugging as if that’s the only explanation needed.

He’s modest to a fault, god bless him, and you sigh with exasperated affection as you knock your head against his shoulder.  “Well I’m proud of you, baby.  You’ve been working your ass off.”

Santi points a finger over his beer.  “Ooh, careful, man, you ain’t got much of that to spare.”

Frankie mutters a short stream of Spanish over the top of your head - the only word you manage to catch in your limited vocabulary being pendejo - and the other man grins.

“Language, Francisco,” Santi says, one hand to his chest as though scandalized.  “There are ladies present.”

You laugh, craning your neck to place a kiss by Frankie’s ear.  “Don’t listen to him, baby, you’ve got a cute ass.”

His cheek grows warm, and warmer still when Benny cuts in: “All right, ease up on hype routine before we gotta call emergency services to get Fish’s giant fuckin’ head out the door.”

“We got a hacksaw in the truck, it’s fine,” you insist, giving Frankie’s thigh a squeeze under the table.  “Not my fault you yahoos have never heard of positive reinforcement.”

Frankie’s chuckle is so low you almost miss it, his face hidden under the bill of his hat.  Santi eyes this display with one of his impressive eyebrows hiked.  He meets your gaze for a second, a knowing smirk on his face that suggests he at least is fully aware of what you’re pulling on his friend right now.  You only smile, sip your drink, and let your hand wander out of sight up and down Frankie’s thigh.

Abruptly Santi thumps Benny’s shoulder with the back of his hand.  “C’mon Benny-boy, I feel like knocking balls around.  I’ll let you win the first round, get you some of your pride back.”

Benny scrunches his face up, scooting away from the table with his hands spread.  “Like hell.  You ain’t letting me do shit, Pope, I’ll kick your ass fair and square.”

Santiago tips you a wink as he ushers Benny off to the pool table.  “Behave yourselves.”

“Hell no,” you shoot back, and he grins.

Immediately Frankie’s mouth brushes your ear.  “You’re a menace,” he says, a little heat crackling through his amusement like dry lightning.

It’s a small effort to school your expression into something reminiscent of innocence before you turn to face him.  “What, can’t a girl pay her boyfriend a compliment?”  You trail your hand up, brushing the back of your knuckles against his fly.  His jeans feel just a bit tighter than they really ought to, and it absolutely delights you.

His eyes seem to darken; no small feat in the already dim light of the bar.  “I know what you’re up to,” he says, that small, pleased smile still curling the corners of his mouth.

“And?” you press, a little laughter coloring your voice.  “Is it working?”

He doesn’t answer, but the way he looks at you suggests he finds it funny you even have to ask.

Emboldened now, you leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth and press your hand a little more firmly between his legs.  “Come on.  You work so hard, and you always take such good care of me.  Let me be sweet on you, Frankie.  You’ve been so good, you deserve a little praise.”

“Querida,” he mutters, low and light enough that his voice nearly cracks.  If it weren’t for the feel of him stiffening you might’ve mistaken the tone for embarrassment rather than barely concealed excitement.

You smile at him, all sugar, and cup him through his jeans, the outline of him clear against the fabric.  “Say it, Frankie.  C’mon baby.  Tell me you’ve been good.”

The bulge under your hand twitches hard and swells, the denim stretching even tighter.  “We’re leaving,” he announces quietly, pulling his coat into his lap as he stands.  “Now.”

Grinning, you stand, unhurriedly slipping on your own coat and waving as Frankie ushers you past the pool table and towards the front door.

“Good night, boys,” you call back over your shoulder.

Santi laughs, and the last thing you hear before the door closes is him announcing to Benny: “Told you.  Not even five minutes.  Pay up, bud.”

Ever the gentleman, even now, he follows you to the passenger side to get the door.  You stretch up, offering a kiss in thanks, but he damn near collapses into it, pushing against you so suddenly the backs of your legs strike the step behind you and you almost lose your balance.  Luckily Frankie’s reflexes are better than yours, even now, and as quickly as you start to feel your balance go he gets an arm around your back, dragging your body flush to his again.  The surprise leaves you giddy and giggling, and before you even know you’re planning on doing it you’re giving his cock a heavy squeeze through his jeans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breaking away.  “Not here, baby.  Fuck don’t get me started here.  We’ll get caught.”

“Thought you liked it a little risky, Francisco,” you tease, but you still your hand anyway.

“Baby there’s two cruisers parked over there,” he says with a thin laugh, jerking his chin over your left shoulder.  “Shaking my dick at the cops is not the kind of risky I like.”

You glance over and sure enough, there’s two police cars in the parking lot, one of them still occupied and idling.  The men inside don’t appear to be paying you any mind, but Frankie’s right: it’s best if it stays that way.  Sputtering laughter, you pull your hand away and cup the sides of his face, thumbs stroking through his coarse stubble.  “Better take me home then.”

Frankie keeps a close eye on the occupied car as you pull out onto the road, eyes returning again and again to the rearview mirror for at least three blocks before he finally seems to relax a little.  He rolls his shoulders, nodding, muttering a quiet affirmative to himself, and then tenses all over again when you slide your hand back up his thigh.

“Baby,” he warns.  There’s a heady mix of panic and excitement in his eyes as his right hand darts out, grabbing your wrist inches away from your prize.

“Both hands on the wheel, baby,” you tell him evenly.  “Let me do this for you.”  And then you wait, thumb rubbing a slow circle across his denim-covered thigh.  It’s an offer, not an order.  You’re honestly not sure if he’s actually good with this idea, and you’re not about to bulldoze him into something he doesn’t want to do on a blind, horny whim.

He squeezes your wrist a little tighter, then nods.  “Okay,” he whispers, and returns his hand to the wheel. 

“Good boy.  You’ve got this, Frankie.  Just keep your eyes on the road,” you mutter, shifting a little closer and giving him a slow squeeze.  Your heart’s beating faster now, thrilled at the prospect of what you’re about to do - what he’s about to let you do.  “I know how good you are behind the wheel.  What’s it Santi always says?  ‘Anything with wheels or wings,’ that’s your specialty.  You just focus on the road and let me take care of you.”

“Jesus,” he croaks when you undo his belt, lifting his hips automatically as you draw his zipper down and work his jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free.

You can’t help but crow a little at the sight of him: hard and wavering and already welling a glassy bead of pre-come.  “Fuck, I love how hard you get for me, Francisco,” you murmur as you take him in hand, delighted at the rigid heat under your fingers.  He whimpers at the praise, shoulders pushing back hard against the seat.

He’s silent as you begin to stroke him, his jaw set too tight to allow him to speak.  A small whimper escapes him when you swirl your thumb around the head of his cock, spreading that bead of slickness over it. 

To his credit, the truck doesn’t waver in the slightest.  He damn near drives a razor-line down the highway, speed so steady you would’ve thought it was cruise control.  The only real show that this is costing him any kind of effort is the way the steering wheel creaks under his white-knuckle grip.  It’s still early enough that the roads aren’t fully deserted, and it’s taking all of his concentration to keep his focus on what his hands are doing instead of what your hands are doing. 

The light at the intersection ahead turns from yellow to red and he slows to a stop, one hand trembling on the gear shift. In the brief reprieve his eyes slip closed, allowing himself just a minute to fully focus on the sweet, overwhelming friction of your hand.  He shudders, sinking back into the seat as all the pleasure he’d tried to tamp down overspills.  His hips jerk up into your hand, sharp at first and then rocking, chasing the sensation.  A deep, sweet groan tumbles out of his open mouth and Frankie’s eyes flutter closed, his head dropping against the back window hard enough to make it rattle.

“Good, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” he breathes.  

It’s wonderful to see him like this, so willingly overwhelmed and aching for what you want to give him.  It lights you up, a bright, sweet ache that starts low in your belly and blooms out everywhere, flaring up hotter with every little sound he makes.  The heater’s blowing now, warmth swirling around your legs and you hike your dress up, pressing your fingers insistently against your clit through your tights.  

A moan escapes you before you can stop it, teeth clamping down on your lower lip just a bit too late.  Frankie’s head whips around at the sound, mouth agape at the sight of you with one hand around his cock and the other working half-hidden between your legs.  And then you’re reminded of just how fast this man can be, because one moment his right hand is resting on the gear shift and the next it’s pushing your own fingers aside to rub eagerly at your clothed slit.  The fabric is absolutely soaked through, and Frankie swears under his breath.

“You get this wet for me, baby?” he all but whispers, rubbing a slow, firm circle over your clit.

Sighing, you cover his hand with your own, trying to match your strokes with the rhythm of his fingers.  “Mm-hm.  Just for you, Frankie.  You look so sweet like this, I can’t help it.”

“I promise you, baby, you look sweeter.  Fuck, I could eat you up.  Wanna tear these fucking tights off you and bury my face in your sweet little pussy until you can’t think of anything else.”  He’s quiet - he’s always so quiet - but somehow the gentle rasp of his voice only serves to make that stream of filth even hotter.

A sudden honk makes you both jump, Frankie spitting out a stream of obscenity in Spanish while you can only give an undignified squeak.  The light, you realize as you look up, has gone green again.

Frankie fumbles the truck back into gear, waving an apology to the person behind you. As soon as he’s got the truck into gear his hand returns to you, trying to take its place between your legs again.  Despite literally everything in you that desperately wants to feel those thick fingers against your desperately aching cunt, you shake your head.

“Both hands on the wheel, Frankie,” you remind him, considerably more breathless this time than the first.  “The sooner you get me home the sooner you can take these off me just like you want.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re killing me, baby,” he pants shakily as he settles both hands on the wheel again and eases down the road.  

Control is a little harder to come by now that he’s let it slip, his body turned into a perpetual motion machine, rocking back and forth without the need for his input.  He’s dripping like mad, enough that your hand slides easy back up his length.  Your fingers glide over the slick head and he shudders, swearing, and thumps his heel against the floor.

“Don’t-” he chokes, and his hips press up hard against your hand as a thick runner of pre-come trickles down the underside of his cock.

You slow, squeezing him rhythmically.  “‘Don’t’ what, baby?  You want me to stop?”

He groans, gritting his teeth.  “No.  N-no, no.  Just...fuck, if you keep going you’re gonna make me come.  Don’t make me come like this, baby, please.”

“You got something else in mind?  Tell me, Frankie.  You deserve a reward.  Tell me what you want.”

“Christ,” he pants, searching for words and coming up empty, his ability to think stretched far too thin trying to drive a straight line while you nudge him closer and closer to the edge.   “Madre de fucking Dios, baby, goddamn it.” 

Home is still a good five minutes away, but there’s no way Frankie’s going to make it that far.  Grasping his cock tight at the base, you scoot in closer until your chin’s on his shoulder and you can press your mouth right up against his ear.  “Easy, Frankie.  Take a breath, and tell me what you want.”

There’s a thin whistle as he hitches in a deep breath, the loose front of his t-shirt drawing tight under his jacket as his chest expands.  He holds it for a dizzying moment, pulse thudding so heavily his cock bobs in your grip with it.

“I want to fuck you, querida,”  he whines.  “Lemme fuck you, baby, please.  I don’t want to wait until we get home, I want to feel you on my cock now.”

The heat that’s been pooling in your belly bursts into a goddamn fireball, and any desire you had to keep your hand on the reins in this little scenario, to make him wait for it just a little longer, wholly evaporates.  The skin high up on his neck is cool when you press your lips against him, smooth at first and then raising up into goosebumps when you whisper: “Pull over, Frankie.”

“Fuck, I- fuck.”   His throat works, eyes darting between the road and the mirrors, and then his arm shoots out, holding you back against the seat.  There’s a side road ahead, choked with weeds and largely unused, and Frankie takes the turn onto it one-handed, killing the engine as soon as he gets the truck far enough into the weeds to be mostly unnoticed.  

And then he’s on you, his mouth crashing into yours with a staggering intensity, dragging you up to straddle his lap and sliding his hands underneath your dress.  His fingers hit the apex of your thighs, catching at the sodden seam of your tights and wrenching them apart.  The sound of fabric ripping is startlingly loud in the small space, and you gasp against his mouth, stealing his breath.  

Your head spins, wondering if maybe you teased him just a bit too far, but then there’s another rip and your panties are gone, too, fluttering down to catch on the brake pedal.  The hot, wet head of his cock nudges your entrance and suddenly your only thought becomes - oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.  You brace yourself for the jolt, because even as wet as you are Frankie is big, and you’re certain you’ve worked him up so much he hasn’t got the control left to give you time to adjust.

But Frankie always has a way of surprising you.  You’re tensed up, expecting force and speed and instead he pulls you down slow; taking you at a crawl when you expected a sprint, and all you can do is scratch your fingers across his scalp and whine as he fills you up, sweet and hot like honeyed brandy.  He shudders so hard the springs in the seat creak as you slip down another inch, and another, clenching and fluttering around him as he buries himself inside you with a groan so deep it’s nearly a sob.

“Yes, baby,” he mutters, words returning to him in a slow trickle.  He drops his forehead against your chest, his breath lovely and hot on the thin skin between your breasts as he tugs the neckline of your dress down to leave a kiss there.  “Fuck yes. You take me so good.  Keep going.”  His fingers bite into your thigh as you sink down a little more.  “Don’t-don’t stop, baby.  I need to fuck you.  I need to.  Don’t stop.”

His body thrums underneath you as you sink down, every muscle trembling like high-strung wire, ready to snap.  He’s trying so very very hard to hold on long enough to let you open for him, to be ready for him to give you what he wants.  The realization leaves you dizzy, your grip tightening around his shoulders and he lets out a choked moan as you settle fully in his lap and all but gush around his cock.

You’ve got bare seconds before his patience gives out, but you settle your hands on his chest, feeling the race of his heartbeat under the well-worn cotton of his t-shirt, and push yourself just far enough away that you can look down at him properly.  God, you want to move.  You need to move.  Every time with Frankie holds the same sense of shuttered awe, like you forget what it’s like to be this full until he’s inside you again, pressing up against nerves you barely knew you had.

It’s dark now, the streetlights barely reaching into the shaded alley, and Frankie’s face is painted only in shades of blues and blacks.  But even in the darkness you can see that awe-struck look on his face: lips parted, eyes wide and impossibly dark.  The first thing you think rolls straight off your tongue without a second to parse it: “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

And Frankie breaks.

He grits out a sound that’s half a snarl and half a whimper and lunges up into you so hard you have to brace yourself against the roof of the cab to keep from hitting your head.  Without even meaning to you cry out, the air forced out of you in a broken staccato as Frankie plants his feet on the baseboard and fucks up into you so hard you swear you feel the jolt of it lance up brightly through your ribcage.  It’s unrelenting, frantic and primal and fucking overwhelming.  All you can do is wrap your arms tight around his shoulders and hang on, let him take what he needs, letting him give you everything he can.

Frankie’s beyond words.  Teeth bared against your throat, arms locked tight around you.  One of his hands is hooked around your shoulder, the other gripping mercilessly at your ass.  Even as wet as you are you still grip him tight, especially at this angle, and it’s nearly a struggle for him to move, to drag himself out of you and bury himself all over again.  

You want to encourage him.  Want to praise him.  God knows he’s earned it, but every nerve in your body is on fire and you can’t even find the air to breathe, let alone speak.  You manage a sharp, keening whine as he shifts under you, just barely grazing your g-spot.  Every nerve sparks like raw metal on flint and without even meaning to you clamp down on him tight, your body taking the initiative and trying to hold him against that spot, to chase that burn.

Snarling, Frankie shoves you back, your shoulders thudding against the steering wheel.  The change in angle is sudden and shocking and oh god it puts him right where you wanted him, driving up relentlessly against your sweet spot.  It’s brutal and blissful and fucking perfect, and when he shoves his hand under your dress and drags his thumb in shaking circles over your swollen clit it’s even better.  It’s fucking heaven, and you’ve got no idea how much more of it you can take.  Your whole body shakes, unmindful of any direction you might give it.  Your hand strikes out blindly, knocking hard against the solid plane of his chest and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt.

“Please, baby,” he groans through gritted teeth, and you have just enough senses left to hear just how close he is to coming, and how desperate he is to get you there, too.  “C’mon.  Come for me.  Please.”

“F-f-frankie.”  So close.  Each thrust, each stroke of his fingers pushes you a little closer to your peak, all other sensations fading out and making room for the overload.  You’re not sure if you could see anything even if it was broad daylight right now, but goddamn it you wish you could see his face...

The last thing you hear is Frankie’s shaking voice pleading with you: “Please baby.”  And then there’s just a ringing, high and tuneless.  You have the barest second to wonder if you’ve truly gone deaf and then, like the sheer enormity of it was too much for your brain to process at once, then you come.  Every muscle contracts and you seize up, shuddering, all control over your body lost.  Your throat burns, and it isn’t until Frankie’s hand clamps down over your mouth to quiet you that you understand why.

His heel pounds the floor and he thrusts up into you once more, lifting you up as he goes rigid, under you and inside you, his arms locking tight around your body.  He comes with a broken sob, his face buried against your neck as he quakes his way through the spasms.

The ringing fades, and you listen to the sound your mingled breathing, harsh and labored.  You tighten your grip on him, curl one arm around his head so you can brush his hair back - god, when had he lost his hat in all this? - and press a long kiss to his damp forehead.

Your throat’s a wreck, your voice rough and uneven when you finally find it again.

“Good boy,” you murmur.

“Love you, baby,” he says hoarsely, the words stifled against your skin.  “Jesus Christ I fucking love you.”

“Love you too, Francisco.”

He laughs, breathless and utterly come-drunk.  “Fuck, we need to get out of here.  Somebody definitely heard that.”

You stroke your fingers through his hair, too pleasantly fuzzed to care overmuch about that.  “Hm.  I’m gonna make a mess of the seat,” you complain drowsily, already feeling him begin to trickle out of you as his cock softens.

“‘S okay, baby,” he says, the scratch of his stubble oddly soothing as he kisses his way up your neck. “As soon as we get home I promise I’ll clean you up.”

His tongue traces a shockingly warm line up to the corner of your jaw, and your legs tremble at the suggestion.  

“Very good boy,” you amend.

.

[supercorpkid]

It’s crossover season – Part 2.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Iron Man x TeamMate!Reader, Captain America x TeamMate!Reader, Bucky x TeamMate!Reader, Falcon x TeamMate!Reader, Vision x TeamMate!Reader, Wanda x TeamMate!Reader.

Word count: 2675.

Previously on the series - part 1

“What do you mean no one can lift Thor’s hammer?” You ask Cap, who puts his arms around you with a little smile. “Is it made by a million tons of condensed dwarf star?”

“Is it what? No, nothing like that. It’s a long story.” He says guiding you back inside. “The important part is that you just showed everyone how worthy you are.” You smile at the compliment. “Do you mind training a little, before the big fight? I just want to make sure you’re in sync with the rest of the team.”

“Yeah. I would love that.” You agree with your head and Cap guides you to a large room with a bunch of new people you don’t know.

“Guys, this is Superkid. She is back-up for the fight that is to come.” Cap says and you smile shyly, looking at everyone staring at you. “Remember that we’re facing a strong and big army, and any help is more than welcomed.” He looks back at you. “Now onto work.”

You agree with your head, and he leaves. You look at a guy with wings coming out of his suit and nod.

“Nice wings.” You smile politely. He agrees with his head.

“Thank you! Nice…” He looks at you for a second and you finally notice what you’ve been wearing all along. Your momma’s old college T-shirt, and sweatpants.

“Oh, sorry!” You change into your super suit using your super speed and go back to the same place you were.

“So, you’re fast.” He says like he has deciphered you. “I’m Sam, aka Falcon.” He points at himself. “Red guy over there is Vision.” You look up to see an actual red guy flying.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He says from up there.

“Yeah. You too.” You look back at Sam, pointing at the only other girl in the room.

“That’s Wanda.”

“Cool. Hi Wanda!” You wave at her and she kind of waves, kind of nods at you, but doesn’t quite do any.

“Bucky.” Sam says at the guy coming closer with a frown on his face.

“Are we going to kindergartens to pick up heroes now?” It’s what Bucky says, when he gets closer to you and you roll your eyes. Not another one questioning your abilities because of your age.

“Nice arm.” You point at his metal arm with a smile. “Is that your superpower? You have a metal arm?”

“Funny.” He frowns while Sam laughs at him.

“Come on, kid. Time to show us what you’ve got.” Sam says and they all walk to the same side, leaving you alone in the other.

“So, it’s all of you against me?” You furrow your brows and they smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you.” Bucky says with a blank face, and you shrug.

Falcon is the first to come at you. Wings up, flying towards you, with a gun in hand. He doesn’t shoot, but he doesn’t catch you either. You fly up, and when he passes down on you, you throw your body back at him, making him fall on the ground. He uses his wings to protect himself from the fall and rolls to the other side of the room.

Next, Bucky comes at you. You know he’s more of a combat guy. That’s not your fighting style, you are aware. You were never really good at that, so you should avoid it. He comes in, metal arm ready to punch you and you hold his hand before it hits your face. You don’t know what this metal is, but it’s very strong, and a lot harder to break than you thought. Still, you make an effort to at least make a dent in it.

“Stop!” He pulls his arm away from your grip. “This is expensive, kid. Don’t break it.”

“Sorry.” You look at the little dent you made in it and smile apologetic. “I’ll go easy on you.”

But your time with Bucky is over, because Vision is coming at you now. He flies towards you at full speed, but he doesn’t have his fist closed. He is not going to punch you. Instead, he hits you with some kind of yellow ray, and you look at your hands glowing yellow, and feel your entire body shivering like you just got a blast of excitement.

“What is this?” You ask him, and he stops. Surprised you’ve taken such a hit, without running from it.

“Solar energy?” He asks, landing in front of you. “You were not supposed to take the hit, I thought you would move away from it.”

“Solar energy?” You smile. “Cool, man. That’s how I get my powers. And you just blast me with the strongest sunlight I’ve ever seen. I bet I’m even stronger now!”

Just to test it, you punch the floor, making a hole all around you. You notice, kind of too late, that this is probably the second time you’ll cause structural damage to a room, when you hear the windows breaking, making glass fly everywhere. Just a second later you hear the walls starting to give in and soon they’re crumbling down.

You look around, before the ceiling falls on top of you, to see the rest of ‘the Avengers’, and pick them up to save them from it. But you’re a second too late, because soon, there’s a red energy force around you, and before you blink, you’re thrown away, along with everyone else from the team to the field next to it.

You roll on the floor, stopping a little further away from everyone else, and you look at the now destroyed room you were all inside.

“I’m sorry.” You look at them feeling a little embarrassed. That was too much. You went too far. “Did I mess up big time?”

“Oh no, don’t worry. Who here never destroyed an entire reinforced training space?” Sam says, sounding a little bit too ironic, and you don’t know if he maybe meant it as a joke, or to try to make you feel better. Either way, you think this isn’t the first time you’ve destroyed your training place. “Besides, Tony’s a billionaire.” He says standing up, and you look up to Wanda, landing in front of you, and offering her hand to help you up.

“Thanks for getting us out of there.” You smile and she agrees with her head.

“Yeah, sure. Just don’t destroy the other side of the compound. That’s where we sleep.” She smiles and you agree with your head.

“I’m not mad.” You hear behind you, and you turn around to look at Mister Stark himself looking at the mess you made. “I just want to know who did it.” He takes off his sunglasses just to stare at you. “Let me guess, smart mouth over here is not only great at talking back, but she is also a destruction weapon?”

“In my defense…” You try, knowing there’s absolutely no defense for what you just did. “Vision hit me with solar energy, and you know that’s where my powers come from.”

He sighs, looking at you one last time, before putting his sunglasses back. If you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed the little smile on the corner of his lips.

“Where should I send the bill to?” He asks walking past you and you know it’s a rhetorical question, but you still roll your eyes and answer.

“L Corp.”

“Not a real place. But nice try.” If you didn’t have super hearing, you wouldn’t have caught that. “Wanda, do you mind showing our little troublemaker where she’s staying tonight? I hope we’re lucky enough that she won’t destroy that.”

“Come on.” Wanda points at the other side of the compound. “Let’s fly there.”

Wanda leads you to the other wing of the compound and shows you an empty bedroom you can stay in. You sit on the bed feeling relentless. There’s too much going on in your head, you would sound crazy if you try to put it into words.

It’s weird being here. It’s your first thought. But it’s also nice. You’re used to being around super-heroes. You were never a stranger to the saving lives and saving the world concept. It’s been like this ever since you were born, and you never knew another life. But whatever this is, it’s not what you’re used to. This is not a house, you understand that by looking around, this is a safe place. Sort of like the Fortress of Solitude. But instead of solitude, you find that there’s so many people around. What you’re feeling right now is anything, but loneliness.

So many superheroes with different abilities, all living together, training, making each other better. People with so many backgrounds. You were so scared they could find out you’re half alien, and then Thor waltzes in looking like he just belongs on this Earth, and you find peace. For the first time the thought of you being half alien is not scary. You’re not scared if they know that. In fact, you want them to know that.

You want them to know you, and you want to know them. You want to hear all about Thor’s hammer and why apparently no one else in this house can lift it, no matter how strong they are.

“It’s called Mjölnir.” Wanda says and you look at your door with wide eyes. You earn a soft chuckle in response. “The fact why no one can’t lift it, it’s because there’s some Asgardian protection and only who’s worthy can lift it.”

“Worthy of what?” You ask and she shrugs, walking to the chair in front of your bed.

“I guess who has a pure heart or good intentions?” Wanda waves it off, and you agree with your head. “Honestly, you have immense power. I guess the fact that you’re a kid also helps with the ‘pure heart’ part.”

“Like you’re that much older.” You roll your eyes, and Wanda smiles again. She must be only four years older than you. It’s not that big of a difference. And yet, here she is. Part of ‘the Avengers’. Fighting, being a back-up for everyone. While you just keep destroying training centers like a big stupid mess.

“Hey, stop that.” Wanda says and you raise your eyes to stare her. “You’re not a big stupid mess.”

“And you can stop reading my thoughts, please.”

“I’m sorry. But you’re wrong anyways. I wasn’t always back-up. In fact, I was once someone they were fighting against.” She breathes deep after that. You furrow your brows.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She bites her lips while fidgeting with her rings. “No one here is perfect. Everyone has a past where they did something they shouldn’t have.”

“Oh really? Even Mister Playboy?” You ask.

“Especially him. He made his money by selling weapons that were used by the bad guys. He might be a genius, but his money? I don’t really like to think about where that came from.”

“Sam? Bucky?”

“Sam was military, so I bet he’s done a lot. Bucky was literally brainwashed and has killed a long list of people by the command of a huge bad organization.” Wanda adds, and you furrow your brows taking some time to absorb her words. “Just-” She makes her way to sit in bed with you. “I know you feel bad for destroying the training center, and honestly you don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you all have such intense-” You look at her to see her reaction to the word. She hums in agreement. “Pasts.” You think about Kara. “I’m not very familiar with that.”

“How come?”

“Well, my momma is from a planet called Krypton and it exploded. So, she was sent to Earth, not this one,” you make sure to add. “She always did good. I think she sort of felt like she had to, ‘cause Earth was welcoming her after the loss of her planet, you know?”

“She never made a mistake?” Wanda raises her eyebrow and you think about a few times Kara was affected with red Kryptonite and sure, she made a few mistakes back there, but none was intentional. She was never fully conscious and chose to do so. You shake your head in denial. “Ooof, it must be hard. Is it only the two of you?”

“No. There’s my other mom. She came from a family of villains. My uncle is just always out to kill me and my momma, because we’re aliens.” You say, not aware why you’re telling this girl you just met everything about your life. “But, despite all that, my mom is good. She’s a genius who just makes stuff to make my Earth better.”

“I see now why you’re worthy of Thor’s hammer and the rest of us aren’t.” She chuckles and you give her a forced smile.

“I’m not so good. Not like they want, anyways.” You say and Wanda agrees with her head, like she understands you.

“You know something I learned when I joined the Avengers?” You look at her with puzzling eyes. “You can’t always be good. It’s impossible. The world isn’t black and white, things are not easy like that. You can try to do good as much as you’d like, but sometimes you think you’re on the good side, and you’re not. At all.” She really seems to be talking about her own experiences here. “There’s this grey area and sometimes we find ourselves there.”

“And then what do we do?” You are really interested, because maybe you’re in this grey area.

“We survive and we go on.” She shrugs. “That’s the only thing we can do.”

Go on. That’s her advice. She goes on. That’s not something Kara and Lena would say to you. They would’ve said the only thing you can do, is do your best. Do better. Fight your way out of this grey area. They would never have told you to just survive, and just go on. But here’s the thing, sometimes just surviving is you already doing your best.

You stare at Wanda’s face and hum in agreement. She’s right. And the best part? She wouldn’t force you to do better, but just to go on.

“Wow, you’re really wise for someone your age.” You are legit impressed with her. She smiles at you.

“I have been through a lot of pain and losses.” Her expression immediately saddens at that, and you can only imagine what she’s been through. “It forced me out of my youth.”

“Sorry about that, Wanda.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs, getting up, and she points to the door in front of yours. “I’m in that room, in case you need something. Just rest a little. Tomorrow will probably be the hardest day of your life.”

Wanda leaves your bedroom and you look around, breathing deep. Man, aren’t you far from home?

You think about Kara and Lena, and you hope they’re not worried about you. Because this might sound weird, but it feels good to be here. It feels like this is where you are actually supposed to be right now.

Post-credit scene:

“This is it?” Kara says landing in front of a door, putting Lena next to her. Lena picks up the card again and looks at it.

“This is it. 177A Bleecker St.” She agrees with her head.

“There’s nothing inside.” Kara walks in the front door, giving it a push strong enough to open it even though it is locked. They walk in an empty building, covered with dust and silence. “She’s not here. There’s nothing here.”

“Kara.” Lena calls and Kara turns around to look at her. Both have watery eyes, and hearts beating out of their chest. “I want my baby.”

“I want her too.” Kara says, wrapping her arms around Lena’s shoulders, bringing her closer. “I’m gonna find her. I will find you, little one. I’ll find you.”

[dreamylyfe-x]

Your trevor meta is making me realize how weird it is that the writers and cast were so insistent that mickey wasn't coming back, because I don't think theyve ever really known what to do with ian's story without him. They put him in these lukewarm relationships and tell us they're so much better and healthier, but then have ian straight up admit that he still loves mickey and nobody else has made him feel the same way. How do they set that up and then have him go back to trevor? They set up ian moving on with "I'm not that person anymore" and follow up with season 8. It's like okay...who he is now is gay Jesus? Lmao. He's always been the shows forgotten middle child and after they wrote mickey off "for good" they could have taken him in a million directions but they chose one so shitty it basically made cam leave lmao. Sometimes it feels like fan insistence kind of forced mickey back but in actuality, the seasons where he's gone just hammer home that he was always the inevitable end to ian's story. So bizarre how little the showrunners understand their own story sometimes.

Ok. I’m going to be a little more Doylist here than I usually am, because we’re talking about what the writers are thinking. And I’m also going to take this opportunity to share this fascinating article from the AV Club in 2016: When Fan Engagement Goes Wrong. Everyone beware, it contains significant spoilers for The 100. But it’s also largely about Gallavich, the fact that online promotion of Shameless leaned hard into the popularity of the couple, and were up against it when Noel left. I’ll quote: 

“[Supervising Producer Shelia] Callaghan’s choice to be honest and straightforward when engaging with fans is admirable, and yet also on some level futile. She can’t tell them exactly why Fisher chose to leave, she is (logically) unwilling to spoil future storylines outright, and she can only speak her own mind as part of a collaborative process over which she holds only some influence. So while many fans respect her effort to maintain the connection to this now marginalized community, others attack, reinforcing that attempting to manage these situations is a full-time job that no one has been properly trained for.” 

This article links some tweets and the one I find the most interesting is this one:

“But the actor left.  So...what to do? Have them just break up?? Felt way less true to me than a forced separation!” 

That tweet is from Krista Vernoff, who wanted to convey that they tried really hard to come up with what they do with Ian now that he’d lost Mickey. And I’m sure they did try really hard. And.... People hated it. Mostly. 

Here’s what I think, based on what I’ve read and the interviews I’ve seen, on deleted tweets and Tumblr rumours and YouTube clips: The show didn’t want Mickey to leave the canvas. At all. Noel wanted more money. The show could not come up with both that money and the money they needed for everyone else. The show let him go. And hoped they could solve the creative problem their budgetary problem had dumped in their lap. 

I actually think Ian’s story in season six is decent. I miss Mickey, of course. I find the last scene with him really painful -- but it’s not painful because the show is trying to diminish him. They write and then cut together a scene where Mickey is DEMONSTRATIVELY still deeply in love with Ian. He’s carved his name in his chest. He is looking at Ian like he’s the most beautiful creature ever given breath. And Ian can barely meet his gaze. They tell us Mickey is being sent away for 16 years but when we see the last of Mickey Milkovich in season six I think “God, this is so sad. They love each other so much and this is so fucked up.” 

I do NOT think “We are NEVER EVER EVER getting back together.” 

The show always knew what it had with Ian and Mickey. They leaned into it promotionally. They gave meaty storylines to the characters, particularly given that Ian was the fourth lead on a family dramedy built around six children. John Wells replaced Aaron Sorkin on The West Wing. He knows how hard it is to follow a phenomenon. 

The more I think about it, honestly? I don’t think they tried. I think they knew that they couldn’t bring in Mickey Milkovich, the sequel in season six, so they brought in Caleb. And maybe they meant for him to be a LITTLE more viable than he was... but I think there’s a pretty good chance they were just throwing something at the wall to see if it stuck, while being fully aware that the important storyline in season six was getting Ian from despair to a fulfilling career. Caleb was just there as a catalyst. 

Season seven if more interesting, because Trevor is brought on and it’s very much... “Hey, let’s do something new. Let’s bring on a transmasc character and put him into a relationship with Ian and explore those complications.” 

“Great! Put it up on the board!” 

“Also. Let’s call Noel Fisher’s people and see what we can work out because we can do better with Mickey’s send off and people are yelling at me on the street about it.” 

Quite honestly, these are not equal tasks for his writer’s room. You have one story -- Create a whole ass new character. The only thing we know is that he’s trans. Figure out the romance from there. You have six episodes to get them together as an established couple. 

Then: Bring back the well-established and beloved character for an epic romantic two-episode arc where he reunites with his true love and they run away together and then ultimately realize it cannot be, and say goodbye and it all feels like I Will Always Love You should be playing in the background. They actors worked together for five years. They have a great professional partnership. They like working together. They have a ton of history so there’s lots of juicy subtext. The longing and sexual tension comes pre-established. See what you can do. 

HOW do you make both those things work out so that they are equal? You need lightening to strike. And that already happened on How I Met Your Mother. They squandered their good luck and now there is none left for Shameless. I do not disparage Elliot Fletcher at all when I say that for Trevor and Ian to really work he’d have had to have come with scorching chemistry with Cam, rich material that really gave them a good opportunity to build rapport between the characters, and A wizard standing by to cast spells in the wings. They had SIX episodes, a pretty average connection between the actors, and the “these are the LGBTQ+ people in your neighbourhood” scene. 

I just can’t believe that someone with as many years of TV writing under his belt as John Wells has expected that to work. He hoped the Trevor story might be good, and was certainly going to break some ground in terms of telling trans stories. And the Mickey story was going to be the highlight, because he knew people wanted it and he also knew that they’d had something pretty special to start with. Which is why people were yelling at him at Comic-Con. I DO think he hoped it might placate fans a bit. But... he wasn’t going to completely close the door on Mickey this time, either. 

So... I don’t really think the show every intended to write Mickey off “for good”. I think they wrote him off “for now, and we’ll see what happens...” -- and they did that with Karen, Shelia, Jody, Steve and Fiona, too. They only brought a few of those people back... They brought Mickey back three times. They ended Gallavich FOUR times. Noel is in ever season except eight. I don’t think they wanted Mickey gone -- but I KNOW the fans also made it pretty hard for them not to know his value, so absolutely I think that played a role. But when you create something people love and you get that lightening in a bottle like they did with this story, I think writers are always going to be excited to get that back. They like praise! They like people to be excited about their show. And Gallavich was always one of the things that got people excited about Shameless. 

I think they also wanted Gay Jesus to be a great story. But that’s why the lightening in the bottle is so valuable. You can’t just get it anywhere. 

[mxvladdy]

Hello! I love your writing and I may have a prompt, if it strikes your fancy. I'm aware it might not be entirely lore-friendly a request, but I love relationship shenanigans in Obey Me, so I got to ask: how do you think Luci, Diavolo, Satan and Beel would help their anxious SO adjust when MC begins demonstrating mad prowess in witchcraft right after they first spend the night together? Sex, power and pacts seem to go hand-in-hand in related media, but no one really planned for it in their case!

Awww thankie and sorry for the long wait! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you like this! It gave me big thirst lmaooo

Lucifer

Mmmm you smell of him in the morning. He positively oozes from your every pore. Rich and spicy, like amber and freshly turned earth.

Good. Let it be known to all that you were claimed. Thoroughly.

He put his daily routine on hold for you this morning. He was weak to your pouting.

He’ll stay in bed for a little bit to indulge you. But duty calls and work waits for no demon

Neither of you really pay attention to how hard you are clinging to him when he tries to extract himself to get dressed

You both just kind of chalk it up to neither of you want to part

The day goes on as usual for him, meetings, paperwork, meetings, punishing Mammon, meetings

But the whole time something was nagging at him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He just felt like he forgot something important

But that’s impossible-

The wall explodes out behind him cutting Lucifer off mid-sentence. The rubble and great ball of flames miss him and Diavolo by mere inches only because of the latter’s quick reflexes. “Are you alright my friend?” Diavolo asks golden eyes alight with surprise. Lucifer could feel the prince’s defensive magic prickling his skin in response to the pungent magic wafting out of the hole.

“Of course-” Lucifer steps back, straightening his jacket’s lapels, the near-miss ruffles his feathers. Both men step closer to the hole. His hackles raise.  The power emanating from the crater was far too familiar. Someone dares to use his magical signatures without permission.  Snarling into the abyss he marches forward. He ignores Diavolo’s calls to wait and strides through the hole. His wings flare up from his back along with his temper. He walks through each wave of magic that washes over him. With each destroyed wall he steps through more and more of his demonic form comes forth till he is more beast than man. Strolling through the final hole he stops. His red eyes sweep across the scene in front of him. As the seconds' tick by his mood morphs from rage to shock, then to a sense of blinding pride.  

“Well-” He crosses his arms and smirks. He turns his gaze to the epicenter of the damage.

“Luci, I am so so sorry.” You mutter aghast behind your fingers. “I-I don’t know what happened.” You were never the best student in any of the practical classes. The teachers made exceptions for you and your lack of magical prowess. In this class, the teacher always paired you up with Solomon or Luke so they could help you prepare the necessary spells and runes. But you felt so different today, stronger and sharper. Damn near unstoppable even. Just the thought of someone else doing your work made something deep inside you seethe. You didn’t need help, you’ve seen and heard the incantations a thousand times before- it wouldn’t hurt to try…Well, let’s rephrase that, it didn’t hurt you to try.

The classroom was totaled. Dust, rubble, and burning pages all float around you like a post-apocalyptic snowstorm. Soot from your uncontrolled spell blacked your clothes and skin, next to you Solomon stands rigid in shock white brows disappearing into his hairline. Quietly you lick your thumb and forefinger and put out the small blue flame singeing his bangs. “Thanks.” He spits out around a mouthful of ash and grit.

Lucifer coughs to draw all eyes back to him. He takes inventory of the room, making sure all the other students scattered about were still breathing. Satisfied he beckons to you with a finger. “Come.” You jump into motion, scrambling up and over the rubble to grab his outstretched hand.

“Lucifer.” He cuts you off.

“Not here,” He smiles warmly rubbing at some soot staining the tip of your nose. “Come let’s get you cleaned up.”

_____________

“Should I be worried?” You ask, stepping out of Lucifer’s private showers wrapped in one of his sinfully soft towels. “I’m not going to blow stuff up on a whim now, right?” You plop down on his bedroom’s couch. Lucifer hums noncommittally by his liquor cabinet.

“I doubt it. How do you feel?” He takes a seat beside you handing you a glass and grabbing your legs to drape them over his. You take a swig from the glass, the heat of the liquor getting rid of the lingering shock from class. How did you feel?

Your bones hum with some unknown energy and there was a fire coursing through your veins. “I feel like I could take on the world. Like I dominate half of the Devildom.” Lucifer’s smile was nothing short of smug.

“Good.” He sips his drink.

“Good?” You lean forward expectantly.

Lucifer strokes your cheek coming in to inhale your fresh scent. The commingling of his and your own was beyond arousing. “There is more than one way to seal and strengthen a pact, my beloved.” He pulls you into a chastened kiss, feeling your cheeks heat with a dawning realization of what he meant. “You have now given yourself to me in both body and soul. The- bonus perks were inevitable.” He parts from you, reaching for his glass.

“Will it go away?” You honestly didn’t know if you could handle any more curveballs down here.

Lucifer laughs swirling the dredges of his drink before downing it in one go. “Ideally no- but over time if it isn’t reinforced it will weaken and disappear on its own.”

“Reinforced?” The heat of your drink seems to dip lower down your body. Your demon scoffs giving you a knowing look.

He drags you onto his lap. “Are you truly satisfied with just a night with me αγαπούλα μου?” A gloved finger tugs at the hem of your towel. “If I had my way I would keep you full and drunk on my power for all eternity.” He captures you in a searing kiss draping you over the cushions of his couch, his eyes turning predatory. “Do not worry about the side effects.” He purrs caging you in. “We have all the time in the world to get you accustomed to them.”

Diavolo

He knew. This bitch knew before he ever got you in his bed-chamber. Just think of the entertainment value~

So when he sweeps you up into his quarters for the night day weekend, he just forgets to mention it to you

He is curious about how his magic will affect a human of celestial descent. Will it show up all at once? Or over a long period of time? He hopes that your blood doesn’t cancel out his claim on you

He watches you like a hawk for a while- and nothing…

Hmm. Perhaps it just didn’t take the first time? No matter, try-try-try again as the saying goes. He certainly doesn’t see you complaining

But as the week passes he slowly puts it on his backburner as his work begins to pile up again

You on the other hand are having a time. One day you are fine and dandy and the next you can read and write in languages you’ve never even heard of.

Then you started seeing some frankly crazy shit. Had the ghost at the house always been this active?

The last straw for you was accidentally freezing half of the house’s rose garden with a sneeze. To say you are panicked is an understatement

Frazzled you run to the only mage you could (kinda) trust

“It’s not funny!” You hiss frantically staring bewildered at your friend. Your look of panic just makes him laugh harder. “Stop seriously Solomon! Gods, what did I do?” You scrub at your face hard. If you made yet another freaking pact with a demon you were going to lose it. Seven idiots were enough for several lifetimes.

Solomon howls at this, drawing curious and rude looks from the surrounding tables of the tea house. You swat at his shoulder hissing like a cat. “Sorry- sorry” He hiccups. “Your turn of phrase was just so fitting.” He collects himself by taking a sip of his tea. “Tell me, what have you been doing of late?” He smirks around the rim of his cup.

You squint at him not getting it. His keen eyes drift down to land on the garden of purple and blue bruises littering your neck. You slap a hand over your hickeys. He smiles leaning over conspiratorially. “What’s it like to sleep with a God? The perks are amazing no?”  

You shook your head. “I-what perks?”

“Oh~ Loverboy didn’t warn you of certain side-effects?” The mage leans back in his chair. He was going to have a great time today. ___________

Unbelievable. You march up the walkway to the palace, your mind absolutely reeling. Did he know about this? Of course, he did-how could he not! Did he just forget? No- Diavolo was many things, smart, cunning, conniving, but never forgetful. You knew him well and knew he had to be on the lookout for “side effects” as Solomon put it.

Fine, two can play at this game.

“Ah! Mio Giglio! How are you?” Dia glances up from his mountainous amount of paperwork when you throw open his office door. He rises in one fluid motion to scoop you up in a tight hug. Now that you know what to look for, you hone into the way he holds you. His large hands run down your back and sides possessively, he clings to you rubbing his bulking frame on you like a cat marking you. He leans in close to rub the bridge of his strong nose up and down your clavicle and neck. You feel his hot breath on your skin when he exhales. How had you not noticed this?

“Good, and you?” You smile into the fabric of his shirt. Carefully you wrap your arms around his solid waist. You hug him lightly so as to not give away your little surprise.

“Better with you here.” He chuckles stepping back to return to his desk. You follow closely behind waiting for the perfect time to strike. “What have you been up to?” He asks innocently, going to sit back down. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

You hum nonchalantly coming up behind him to rub at his tense shoulders. “Nothing much.” He nods closing his eyes as your fingers dig into sore muscles. “Usual school week, made some new friends...Went shopping with Asmo and Luke this morning. Bought you some treats, hidden from Barbatos of course.” You drop a quick peck on his cheek. Diavolo smiles sinking lower into his chair. He hopped it was something with lemon or orange, they were in season now. Barbatos had been on the warpath with his sugar and carb intake of late. “Then I had tea with Solomon and he filled me in on some very interesting facts.” You kiss his hairline.

“Mmmm?”

You pull away from his warmth to come around to straddle his lap while he is distracted. He jerks at your sudden weight on his lap but relaxes almost immediately. He opens a golden eye, not even realizing he had closed them. Your demeanor shifts when his gaze is fully set on you, all sweet innocence gone. A cheshire grin spreads across your face. “Funny you should ask if I’m feeling ok. I have been feeling a bit off of late.”

Diavolo tenses. “Are you well?” He tries to reach for you, his arms coming off the armrests of his desk chair. You strike like a viper, your small hands wrap and lock around his thick wrists pinning them to the chair. His eyes bulge in shock. You watch coyly as his biceps bulge under his clothes. He tries to break free for a few minutes before settling back. “I see-”

Leaning in you brush your lips across his ears, heart racing with excitement. “You forgot to mention quite a few things, Dia.” The low purr he emits shakes both of you.

“My apologies.” He admits. “You know I love a good show. Shame I missed it.” He throws you a rogue smile. “Forgive me?”

You slide closer until you rested chest to chest, legs wrapping around his to pin him down further. His purr drops down an octave. Locking eyes with him you remove a hand from his wrist daring him to move. He doesn’t. You move slowly and deliberately resting your hand on his strong neck. His reaction was instantaneous. His pupils dilate, and the gold of his irises turn molten. You start to feel his magic seep out, you match it, giddy with excitement that you could. “Only if you work for it.” You smirk.

Diavolo nods readily, licking at his dry lips in anticipation. He was more than ready to atone.

Satan

He is a good noodle and has the decency to tell you what will happen beforehand

It’s only polite to give you a heads up before he breaks your headboard

You both are curious about how it will affect you. He at least is excited to teach you some practical magic

Plus the idea of you pranking Lucifer with magic? Sublime.

He smells it blossoming under your skin while you sleep.

It’s sharp and minty with a smoky finish. Then the power hits him like a brick to the face. He is in awe.

It’s like an electrifying feedback loop that just energizes and excites him and you feel it too. He’ll lose himself in you and your body again, hyped up on the headiness of it all.

Once he has *cough* cleared his head *cough* he takes you out to try out your newly found powers. He has so many things he wants to teach you.

Satan kneels beside you nodding his head in approval at your chalk markings. Your lines weren’t exactly steady, he could see how your hand shook as you copied his paperwork but you followed it dutifully. He finds your nervousness adorable as if he would let anything bad happen to you. At his go-ahead, you get to your feet. Turning your palms down towards your summoning circle you recite your spell and watch in amazement as your runes glow bright green underneath you. In a flash of blinding lights and smoke, you sense the pull of the creature emerging from your rune work. Delighted you look down at your handy work.

“Congratulations my darling, exceptionally done.” He grins proudly from his perch by his bookshelf.

You bend down and pick up the little critter. “What is it?” It looked like a blob of flan but firmer. Its squishy form shivers in your palm when you poked it. Its body giving way under your gentle poke. It was dark green but lightened to an electric green at its base. It was surprisingly warm.

You feel Satan coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “It looks to be a lesser familiar, not bad for your first time summoning ever.” The jelly wiggles at his praise even though you couldn’t find any discernible features on its smooth little body. You turn it this way and that in your hand, even though it didn’t have eyes you could sense it was sizing you up to.

“What can it do?” You raise a brow at your companion. His arms circle your waist, his grin turning mischievous.

“Let's find out.”

________

Your lungs burn, each breath coming hard and sharp while you run. The sound of your pounding feet was swallowed up by the rush of foot traffic around you. Satan drags you behind him ushering you both around the throng of students. “Quickly!” He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a brilliant smile. “The further away from his office we are the less likely he could blame us.”

You laugh breathlessly along with him.

________

“What Belphie say?” You lean onto Satan’s shoulder to peek at his phone. The two of you sit, crowding in on each other's space underneath a desk in one of the unused classrooms.

“It’s glorious. Everything is covered. He says it looks like magic won’t remove it either!” He cackles showing you his screen. Belphie sent him a selfie. He is grinning devilishly from ear to ear throwing you both a peace sign through the screen. In the background, you could clearly see a very irate Lucifer. His face was red with fury and his clothes covered in green goo. His office was wrecked. Your little jelly did a number on it, you hadn’t expected it to expand as large as it did. Your familiar popping on the edge of Lucifer’s desk wasn’t intended either, but totally worth it. “Think you can summon another?” Satan asks, darkening his screen. You shake your head, whatever power you had earlier today had been drained after your little stunt.

Satan nods in understanding. “Shame- imagine what one of your jellies could do to Diavolo’s office.”

“Satan-”

He chuckles wrapping an arm around your back. He plants a loud kiss onto your forehead. “Alright-alright. Perhaps after a bit of a rest and recharge?”

You poke his leg playfully and laugh. “If you wanted to have sex again you could just ask.”  

He dips low and kisses you. “Well then- if you are up for another round of delinquency…”

Beelzebub

Sweet baby didn’t know-

Well, he knew about it. Lucifer had given everyone “the talk” about it a couple of millennia ago.

He never really thought about it before you because he didn’t sleep with humans often (Him so big, human so smol if he isn’t paying attention it could be...bad)

So when you drag him into your room he just doesn’t think about it. You are both so oblivious

He doesn’t think about the shift in your scent, your kisses were just as sweet as always. If there was a peppery aftertaste to your kiss he chalks it up to something you had for breakfast

He doesn’t think anything of it when you practically drag him from your bed to shower together before school

He doesn’t think about it when at lunch your appetite starts to rival his

He starts to think about it during P.E. when your dodge ball puts a demon down for the rest of class

He definitely notices when you pin him down to steal his sandwich during your picnic date

Now he’s freaking out, whether it's because you are showing inhuman strength or the fact that you stole his food who knows

You nab yet another one of his sandwiches and start munching away with a hum of happiness. “Hey, babe.” He rumbles beneath you. “You feeling alright?” He wraps his large hands around your waist. Your weight was warm and comfortable over his prone form. He had whisked you away for an afternoon picnic, something to spend more time with you alone. After last night he craved being around you more than anything. He had packed enough food for him in mind. But it looks like it wouldn’t be enough. Odd. Beel rests his head back on the thick blanket protecting you both from the slightly damp grass underneath.

“Hmm?” You swallow down a mouthful of ruben. “Yeah! Famished though.” You lean back on his strong hip and swipe your finger around your mouth to brush off some crumbs. You reach for the other half of his sandwich to devour but pauses when you catch Beel’s kicked puppy look. With a huff of amusement, you offer the other half to him letting him chomp down with a fanged smile in thanks.

He chews in silence, watching you pick up a bowl of fresh fruit. Hmmm… He runs his rough palms up and down your thighs and hips ignoring your squirming and giggles when he runs over the thin skin of your sides. He squeezes you lightly. Huh- Your muscles were firmer than this morning, now that he was looking closer he could see that your frame was a bit sturdier too. Still his perfectly lovable and squishy human but more solid around the edges. In a last-ditch effort to figure out what has changed, he reaches out for his pact mark.

He jerks forward, upsetting your position on his lap, causing you to tumble backward, fruit flying everywhere. “Beel!” You shriek. He shushes you, squeezing your cheeks between warm hands.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” You repeat. “What dessert? I’m pretty sure the fruit was part of it...but I mean. If you want grassy cantaloupe it’s all yours.” You eye the remains of the seasonal fruit laying around you and then at the basket. You were pretty sure you saw some pastries at the bottom of it too.

“We had sex.” He blurts out bluntly, and quite loudly.

Your face heats. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” You push him off sitting up on your elbows. “Please, why don’t you yell it out for all the wildlife to hear too.”

Beelzebub shakes his head groaning. “No-I forgot to warn you about our pact.”

Ahh-oh. You eye him wearily. If he was stressing you were stressing, it wasn’t like him to get so bent out of shape. “Ok-is it, like bad?”  What were you going to die? That would be a big thing to just forget. “How about you fill me in big guy.” You listen enraptured while he jerkily explains how you have strengthened your bond exponentially without even realizing it. Magic, super strength, the appetite, all because you jumped his bones.

Nice.

It sounded so cool- but then overwhelming all at the same time. Was it permanent? What if you lost control and actually hurt someone for real.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it-I just. You felt so good.” He wilts. “I should have been more careful- this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Beel-”

“I swear.” He bulldozes over you. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

You cut him off, combing your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I believe you, Beel.” You smile reassuringly. “It’s not like it’s gonna hurt me...right?”  He thinks about it for a minute then grunts, shaking his head. You grin brighter stretching out your arms. “And I get some cool powers right?”

He nods again. “For a bit yes.”

You get up off the ground excitedly. “Right then! You’ll show me the ropes right? I’ve never done anything magical before!” You look at your palms as if fire or sparks were going to fly out of them. Beel rises to his feet too.

“You sure? I doubt I will be as good of a mentor as Lucifer or even Belphie.” He looks around the large grove of trees and sprawling grassy acreage around you both. You both were far away from the populated areas of the mountain pass and town. He could practice with you freely and without worrying about damaging anything important. “Not the date I promised, but if you really want me to show you some stuff…” He offers you a shy smile. He did have a few cool tricks he could show you. You nod already rolling up your sleeves. Well- if this was what you really wanted then he would be glad to show you.  

[iphoenixrising]

DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au

So. another dual prompt and I really regret nothing about this one tbh. I took tomorrow’s Talon and today’s Wings and made a Winged!Talon!Tim fic. Of course, I talked to the wonderful babes on Capes & Coffee about a what if combination and this just, whew. Careful, it might break your heart a little, but damn if it isn’t an interesting idea.

Not beta read, so don't be a hater :D

Previous Talon!Tim universe posts: The initial idea, Babe and I talking it out, Talon Training Ask, Ra’s vs the Court, Talon and Ra’s, Talon and Ra’s take 2, Talon and Shiva short.

**

Watching B take on the new and improved Talon is really the entertainment of the year.

Once upon a time it had taken all of them plus more to take down as much of the Court of Owls as humanly possible. Of course, like rats, the Bats knew there would be no way to get the entire Court or all the Talons, not when the upper echelons of Gotham had spent the better part of 200 years creating, storing, training, and obtaining more.

Politicians were investigated, corrupt cops removed, and criminals burrowed underground once word of what the capes did to save the day got passed around.

For the first time in years, crime in Gotham was at an all time low.

But, as the coin flip dictates, nothing good lasts forever. Trouble is always brewing below the surface to eventually rise to the top and try to take over.

Case in point:

The Bats of Gotham have come up against a new threat wearing the signature Talon armor, and the call goes out to all available capes for help taking on the undead mercenary before another crime family ends up in the Obituaries rather than Blackgate.

The fact the Court is still up and running after the Batfamily took them down in a fiery blaze that ended with all their Talons gone, Sensei exposed, and most the ruling families imprisoned or poisoned by Lincoln March, is like a kick to the abdomen after they closed that particular book. Worse, with a new Talon soldier is sighted running around Gotham, another circus kid has been kidnapped and turned into the right hand of the Court of Owls. Dick, with his absolute survivors guilt, is the one to make going after the Talon and whoever is still behind the scenes a top priority.

Which is how they find themselves in the middle of Knight’s Stadium facing down a Talon that is too short to be March. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, and Black Bat pretty much got their asses handed to them in the first twelve minutes. Pretty hard to understand until you take into account the new and improved Talon facing them now is terrifying in a completely different way than most undead assassins are.

He knows them.

He knows them in ways that lets him fight fast and furious with vicious accuracy, striking at weaknesses few of the vigilantes of Gotham realized they even had.

He isn't as big as Lincoln or even Cobb, not nearly as old. He hasn't been kept in cryostasis waiting for the next generation to need his skills. He doesn't have creaks in his joints from being put on deep freeze too many times.

This one is silent and efficient, obviously trained in multiple types of martial arts, is highly proficient with or without the standard Talon knives, is a master tactician, counters the majority of their moves with alarming consistency–

and the fucking Talon has wings.

Honest-to-God wings.

Everyone had assumed the metal monstrosities on his back were weapons of some kind, but the glint of steel in the streetlight flash a warning before the lumps moved in an arch, extending far out past his shoulder blades, slicing into Red Hood’s body suit with a razor-sharp edge, shredding the armor like paper.

It’s not enough he’s got weapons obviously made specifically for his skill set, it’s not enough he’s an assassin and doesn’t hold to the same standards of non-lethal combat, it’s not enough that he can use his wings to fly or to fight like he’s using another limb to kick the shit out of them, and it’s not enough that he effortlessly counters so many of their attacks that he has to have some kind of inside information on all of them and their fighting styles.

The knives are definitely a thing when the Talon can throw them hard enough to penetrate parts of their suits in between armored plating, which further drives the theory that this is a person they’ve dealt with before. Intimately. Few people in the world know how their suits are made. Even more, few people know particulars enough when their suits are constantly reconstructed.

The only thing on their side that tipped the scales in their favor–

–the Batman.

The wings threw him off his game, obviously, but not enough to stop B from holding his own with swift and merciless force.

It's like watching a dance of fast and furious fists, blades in Talon's hands glinting deadly in the night, finding B's suit over and over and over until he's made it to blood and bone. He takes every hit the Batman can dish out, head snapping back, left, and right with the volley of jaw-breaking blows and bone-shattering kicks.

None of it gives the Talon pause. When a move makes him drop a blade, another is already in hand, cutting into their body suits, wings flipping out to defend or distract, sweeping moves and well coordinated attacks.

The unnatural appendages are like another arm, another leg, an extension working on the same central nervous system, regardless as to how the Court managed to make it happen.

A jump kick off a trash can is a lucky shot as a wing catches B in the ribs hard enough to knock him into the wall of Mike's Famous Hotdogs. The only thing saving the Dark Knight from a concussion or permanent brain damage is the plating in his cowl.

It gives the Talon enough time to make a final bid for a battered Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin struggling to their feet again, eyes for their fallen mentor.

Before he can lunge forward to start the attack yet again, the Talon just stops, pauses like he’s stuck or something, and in the span of a breath, both wings extend fully, flap powerfully once to propel him up into the Gotham night.

O tries her best to track his flight through the city, but no one’s arms are working well enough to toss a tracker on him.

She loses him over Cape Carmine, slams her palms against her system in frustration, makes sure she gets as much footage from the confrontation as possible.

After some sleep and a whole lot of bandages and ice packs, the Bat family meets in the Cave to watch the footage, breakdown the Talon’s fighting style, his weaponry, and make theories on his identity.

O helps out with readings she has of electronic pulses she managed to capture coming from the armor over his wings. She thinks she might be able to use it to track him if they can get close enough for her equipment to ping the signal again.

B makes a trip to Arkham since Freeze apparently hasn’t stopped producing the formula used to put Talons in cryostasis.

It’s not until Gotham’s power grid has a massive surge that O and the Bats can pinpoint a possible location, all of them invested in one hell of a fight to get the last rats still scurrying in the underground.

The plan of attack comes together smoothly once they’ve scoped out the location, seen the shady activity, and together, they make one hell of a plan.

**

And because, you know, Gotham, it is completely normal for the Court of Owl's headquarters to have a skylight.

Natch.

For this one, they've got Batgirl and Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, Nightwing and B, a real family affair.

O's quiet voice over comms leading them through the maze of traps and empty rooms, abandoned libraries and spooky ball rooms. The laboratory isn't the most horrific they've all ever seen (because the Joker's summer place is literally the stuff of nightmares), but a few of them do gag on the smell alone.

The plan, however, goes horribly awry when the clear sounds of tormented screaming echoes from right under their reinforced bootheels.

Black Bat's fists clench hard, her breathing wheezes out when the tone, the utter agony goes right through her.

A shudder slides up Robin's spine as all of them turn toward the noise.

Without a flicker or a word, the Batman moves, strafing in the shadows toward the sound. He can't assume it's an innocent civilian with something the Court wants, but he's betting on the fact that scream will lead them to whoever is running the show.

The medieval room has bars and reinforced locks, implements hanging on the wall. The cement brick is stained rust colored with old blood, the vestiges of training, and the awful realization they've found another hidden niche in the city that always existed right under their noses is punctuated with the abrupt drop in temperature, with the sudden charge in the air, with the zzzzcrack snapping beyond the door, replaced with a muted buzzing Robin can feel in his back teeth.

B is already on his way to the roof, Batgirl down through the floor vent while Nightwing picks the locks with fast precision, knocking the tumblers around.

Robin and Red Hood stay close to the reinforced door, balancing on the balls of their feet, katana and .45s at the ready.

Black Bat takes the high road, ceiling tiles giving way under her Bat-a-rang. She gives a sharp nod before she's up and gone.

"All right. Ready?" Nightwing stands, cracks his neck, flips his escrimas in both hands, works his shoulders to prepare for the strain of each blow he plans to give.

"Ya betcha ass," Hood murmurs low, a cut figure with both guns at his sides, gloved fingers on the trigger guard.

"Don't disappoint," Robin snarls, "either of you."

"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.

"Tt, back up your mouth with action."

"Better shuddap, Demon. Golden Boy ain't fuckin' 'round. Neither is the Bat. We get one more chance a' this asshole. We ain't gonna blow it again, ya feel me?"

"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."

"Other than N's shitty mullet?"

Nightwing swiftly glares at them both over his shoulder, unconsciously putting himself front and center of the trio, ready to be the first in once they get the signal.

– which is the sound of the glass raining down from the heavens.

Three booted feet kick the door hard enough to take it off the hinges, lying against the faded stains like a fallen body.

First step in the room is the complete opposite to what they'd all been expecting.

The two Owl masks aren't the usual, but a perversion of the originals, crudely drawn yawning mouths complete with fangs dripping blood.

But.

The boy on his knees, arms in a binder holding the appendages hostage at a painful angle, is dripping the real thing. Rivulets down his chest and where his back is partially visible. Some from the base of the wings going into the back of his shoulder blades where the skin is torn and raw.

The bar gag shoved in his mouth doesn't take away from the splatters on his chin, the bruising on his face, the swollen eye. But it's his wings that makes the Bats falter from the initial rushing attack.

His wings are without the armor, are bound straight up above his restrained body with hooks grotesquely puncturing through the downy softness, desecrating the beauty with blood and gore. The angle makes the pull to his back where the wings are part of him just another agony on top of atrocity.

"Fuck," from the first Owl mask, and a swift move frees the Talon's bound arms, the appendages flopping uselessly to the floor, only his trapped, tortured wings keeping him up on his knees.

The second Owl shoves the first back, "let him take care of them. Let's get out of here!"

The first Owl snarls out something low and foreign, the phrases rolling off his tongue.

The words lock into place, and the Talon's head snaps up, snarling around the gag in his mouth.

When his face is finally, finally visible, the protectors of Gotham are frozen in their tracks.

Familiar violet-blue eyes, too-long blue-black hair, cut jawline and pointed nose. Tiny scar on his right cheek from the time he caught Ra's al Ghul's ring across the face.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," is barely heard through the Red Hood's synths and in no way fully expresses his utter horror at what these dirty motherfuckers have done.

Robin wretches, bile burning the back of his throat once those eyes swing up to the masked parody of the Owls and his bare upper body is visible through the blood and sweat on his chest, when the scars peeking through on his collar bones form a half-visible Y-incision, when the coloring of the bared wings now makes sense (robin's wings, Damian Wayne thinks with his heart beating pitter patter fast, and his stomach in knots, they put robin's wings on him...).

And the hurt, agonized noise coming out of Nightwing's chest is the only noise he can make when those dimmed, dazed eyes swing from the Owls back to the vigilantes frozen in their spots, when there's no spark of joy or fondness or stubbornness he's so used to seeing staring him down.

The errant thought, the first instinct, is the only humane way to deal with this new Talon is to put him down for good wars with the man behind the mask that only wants to reach out, wants to pull the Talon into his body and curve over, to scream at the injustice of it all, to rail at himself for not even suspecting.

Another switch flipped and the hooks release his wings, blood splattering on top the old stains.

"Get them! Don't fuck it up this time or you won't get another chance," the second Owl shoves the Talon's injured shoulder in the direction of the horrified vigilantes.

They don't even bother to take the gag out of his mouth before setting him on his target.

A flap of wings, and the Talon is on his feet again, swaying only slightly. He's in the boots and pants from earlier, the rest of his uniform tossed carelessly behind him by his tormentors. A sweep of his feet and the knives glint in bare palms, a whisper of a sound.

The curved, clawed blade glints in the overhead light when the Talon raises it and cuts the strap of the bar gag in his bloody mouth, turns his head to spit it out without looking away from the vigilantes.

The Batman, grim and stoic in the face of this surprising turn of events, gives the barest nod. From her hiding spot behind the complex machinery, Black Bat takes off after the running Owl members, leaving the rest of the family to deal with their former third Robin.

The wings flinchingly flare out and their former bird hunches over, ready for the attack.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” the Red Hood removes the helmet, leaves the domino underneath. He keeps one hand out in peace, slowly dipping down to put his helmet on the ground. “Is us, Tim. Timmy. Baby Bird. Is us. Yer family. Gotta lookit us, yeah?”

For the first time, the Talon speaks, “who’s Tim?”

And then he lunges.

**

The fight happens very differently this time.

The former power behind the punches is obviously dulled with the Talon’s identity reveal. He doesn’t hold back, is utterly ruthless with his attacks. He takes out B’s right knee, puts Hood down on the stained floor, knocks Robin into the wall with crushing force, and slams Batgirl’s head off the operating table.

He stands over Nightwing, wicked blade in hand and robin’s wings spread wide. He takes a knee, the sharp edge right above N’s adam’s apple, staring down impassively into the whiteouts.

“Timmy,” N spits blood, grunting when one knee pins his arm down. “Timmy, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you and I’m sorry they did this to you.”

Those eyes don’t change in the slightest. “You should not have tried to oppose the Owls.”

“We beat them once,” Nightwing gasps, “and you helped us, Baby Bird. You were with us then, don’t you remember.”

“I was nothing before the Court perfected me,” the Talon replies emotionlessly.

“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”

“No,” and the Talon leans down, puts them a breath away. “The only thing you and those others do is put the criminals back in prison, back in Arkham for them to escape again, for them to kill and destroy over and over again. Like this, I can stop them permanently.”

“Oh Timmy,” and behind the whiteouts, Nightwing’s eyes spill over, his vision wavery. “Timmy–”

“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that.”

“You know me, you know us. You have to remember–”

“Lies. All of it lies!”

Nightwing’s chest stutters, his fist clenching, “it’s not. None of it is. Not even this–”

And he’s fast enough to grab the back of the Talon’s neck, to lean up enough against the blade pressed against his throat, can bring their mouths together, can kiss him like he’s dying and the Talon is the only thing that can save him.

It’s sloppy and awkward because the Talon doesn’t know what’s happening, gasps against the vigilante’s mouth. The tongue sliding over his, the muffled moan in his mouth sparks something in the back of his brain where the Court of Owls could never touch.

When Nightwing pulls back, stares up at wide violet-blue eyes, when the blade falls away to clatter against the block, when the Talon’s mouth trembles and tears fill his eyes, when his wings flutter and falter, fold in on them both, when his voice goes hoarse with, “D-Dick?” Nightwing throws both arms around his waist and holds on.

[nev3rfound]

one of a kind : l.l

with loki having returned to earth, the avengers call upon their newest recruit, an angel to help. only, loki refuses to believe the truth until it’s too late.  (1.9k) 

masterlist / permanent taglist

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Sighing to himself, Tony walks away from the vault as Steve awaits him outside. “Any luck?” Steve asks, receiving a look that says more than words could. “Well, we’re not out of options yet.” Steve adds, trying his best to remain hopeful as Tony rolls his eyes.

“He still not talking?” Natasha pipes up as the pair return to Tony’s lab where the rest of the team stand, eager for any form of update.

“He won’t budge, thanks for that, Thor.” Tony quips, shooting Thor a look who simply shrugs before placing his hammer down on the metal table with a heavy thud.

“It’s not my fault my brother is so unwilling.” Thor comments, keeping his head down.

“He killed three people and threatened the lives of everyone in this building.” Natasha reminds him, and Thor raises his head meekly.

“He’s adopted?” He weakly states.

“This isn’t enough, I think we gotta bring in the big guns.” Tony rises to his feet, pacing around the room as all eyes turn to him.

Shifting on the spot, Steve clears his throat before speaking up. “Tony, I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Oh, and do you have any better ideas, Cap?” Tony shoots back, frustration rising through him as Loki remains locked up in the vault, tormenting them endlessly. “Didn’t think so.” He mutters under his breath. “Friday, can you send our sunshine a message to meet us in my lab?”

“Of course, Tony. Message sent.” Friday responds, and Steve glances over to Natasha, knowing it’s too soon.

Within a matter of minutes, you tiredly walk through the doors of Tony’s lab, seeing the Avengers all stood around. “Am I crashing some kinda party?” You chuckle, but your laughter isn’t well received based on the solemn expressions. “Tough crowd.”

“How’re you doing, sunshine?” Tony walks toward you, resting his arm over your shoulders.

“I’m better today.” You tell him truthfully. “Healing is taking a bit longer than usual, but I’ll be fine in a few days.”

Tony hums to himself, glancing over his shoulder to the rest of the team. “Listen, Y/n, we’ve got a favour to ask of you, and it might not be easy.” Tony begins and guides you back to face the rest of the Avengers.

Steve holds out a chair for you, noticing your breathing becoming shallow and your eyes drooping. You silently thank him as you sit down, glad to take the weight off your feet.

“How can I help?” You ask, a bright smile on your face.

Despite everything you’ve been through these past few months, you’re still more than willing to help everyone else.

“Well, Thor’s brother decided to pay us an unexpected visit,” Tony trails off as you raise a brow to Thor.

“Loki’s here?” You watch as Thor nods. After hearing countless stories from Thor about his brother, you can’t believe he’s here. “So where is he?”

“In the vault.” Natasha states bluntly as you whip your head around. “Sorry, Y/n. It’s the safest place for him to be.” She adds, and you nod to yourself, knowing it’s probably for the best after what happened last time.

“He’s not talking to anyone, is he?” You knew your goal at that moment as the Avengers nodded in response. “Okay.” You mutter under your breath as you rise to your feet, forcing back a groan as a sharp pain shoots up your side.

Steve’s hands hover naturally toward you, but you push through it. “We’ll be in here, Y/n.” Steve tells you. “If you need us at all, or want out, just say.” He adds.

“Thanks, Steve.” You smile sweetly before carrying on alongside Tony, heading toward the vault that you have only ever entered once.

“We just wanna know what he’s planning, why he’s back and all.” Tony briefly explains what they currently know, and the many gaps in Loki’s story as you stand in front of the doors to the vault.

You watch as two men open the doors, revealing a metal bridge leading to the glass container where Loki is sitting.

Loki lifts his head up, and as you catch his gaze it isn’t what you expected. After hearing countless tales of the past you anticipated seeing someone who radiated evil. But sitting before you is a God weakened by his past, not someone who revels in it.

“We’ll be outside like Cap said.” Tony mutters to you as he glares to Loki who merely smiles back.

“Bye, Tony.” You wave to him as the door is closed, leaving you and Loki in a moment of silence whilst you compose yourself.

“You’re not afraid,” Loki speaks up, now standing as he paces around the cylindrical container, a reinforced version of the previous one. “it’s awfully stupid of you.” He adds, and you can’t help but laugh quietly.

“Why should I be afraid?” You dare to ask as you lean against the railings, heavily relying on them as you make eye contact with Loki. “You’re just a God.”

“Oh my dear,” Loki laughs, shaking his head. “you have no idea who you’re talking to, clearly. You’re a mere mortal, why do you all think you can trick me into telling you anything?”

Sighing to yourself, you push your weight from the railings and step forward. “Perhaps because I’m not a ‘mere mortal’?” You suggest, now catching Loki’s attention. “I grew up with God’s, some, like you and others well,” You trail off. “we don’t talk about those ones.”

“What are you saying? You’re a God?” He coldly asks, but you shake your head in response.

“Oh, Gods no.” You admit. “I’m an Angel.” You state.

“No, you’re not.” Loki bluntly comments, looking you up and down before turning away from you. “Angels don’t exist, they’re a fairytale to keep children calm and believe in an afterlife.” He scoffs.

It’s your turn to scoff as you pause, waiting for him to look back at you. “Some say your kind are fairytales, Loki. Doesn’t mean that you aren’t real.” You explain, nearing the glass. “Why are you adamant that I can’t be an angel?”

Turning on his heels, Loki smirks as he approaches the glass, hovering before it and towers over you. “I would know if angels existed. Now, if you don’t mind I was in the middle of thinking about the thirty different ways I can escape here without the need for a mortal to interrupt me.” Loki states.

“Fair enough.” You shrug your shoulders as you cross your arms over your chest. “However, Loki?” You call out. “There are thirty-seven ways out of here, just so you know.” You chuckle, stepping back and return to the railing, trying to hide the pain in your laugh as it ripples through your spine.

Loki’s lips part to respond, but his eyes focus on your hand clutching your side. “You’re injured, aren’t you?” He asks, watching as you nod. “In the tales of Angels aren’t you supposed to heal within minutes of being injured? The whole ‘immortal’ aspect of being an Angel.” Loki paces around the cell once more, but his eyes never leave you.

“It’s a bit more complex than that.” You tell him through gritted teeth. “When an Angel falls from above or rises from below, our powers are still within us, but they aren’t as effective since we’re in the mortal world.” Your breathing slows down now, and you can’t help but slip down to the ground.

“How did you fall?” Loki kneels behind the glass, focusing on you closely. Yet, your breathing becomes slower, and the curiosity Loki has for you increases. “Tell me!” He yells, slamming his fist to the ground.

“I was sent to guard over a human, something we all do at some point.” You begin to explain, picturing the young boys face as he sat with a bloody nose in the middle of the park as children walked away, leaving him to suffer. “He, well, despite my efforts of guarding him, he didn’t make it.” Tears fill your eyes as you remember the day you fell, the consequences of your actions or lack thereof. “How about you, Loki?” You quickly change the topic of conversation. “Why did you come back to Earth?”

“You think I’m going to simply tell you because you told me a story?” Loki remarks.

“Stranger things have happened in all my years.” You tell him, shifting as you try to rise back to your feet. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of them.” You joke as you stand back up, firmly gripping onto the railing behind you.

“Nonsense,” Loki mutters. “you’re a mortal, no older than Thor’s beloved Jane.”

You shake your head. “I’ve lived for nearly three hundred years.” You tell him. “It’s all in the eyes, Loki. But you only ever see the fear in them, whereas I see hope.”

“You’re here to envoke hope? That I might somehow change with the help of an ‘angel?’“

“Like I said, Loki.” Your voice quietens as you try to ignore the growing pain searing through your body. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Well, I am truly sorry.” Loki chuckles. “But this has been fun, a great story you’ve construed together I’ll admit.” He laughs softly. “As if a mortal of such a young age could try and tempt me.”

“I wasn’t here to tempt you, Loki.” You state clearly, despite your vision beginning to blur. “As I said, I was here to try and help you. As that’s what I do, it’s what I know.” Your voice softens as words struggle to leave your lips coherently.

“Nice try, mortal. But you’ll never get me to crack.” Loki spits to you, and that’s when you fall to the ground.

Immediately, the doors open and Steve rushes in.

“What did you do to her?!” Steve yells to Loki as you lie unconscious.

“How could I do anything when I’m stuck in here?” Loki holds his hands up in defence.

Steve glares to the God as he tries to pull you into his embrace. “Tony?” Steve calls out, and Tony walks in with Thor behind him, causing Loki to sigh heavily.

With the help of Thor, Steve is able to get you to your feet, but as you stand up your wings appear.

“Careful!” Steve warns the others. “Y/n told me her cloaking doesn’t work if she’s unconscious.”

“Come on then,” Tony mutters as he helps Steve carry you out, minding your large bright wings.

Yet, standing in disbelief, Loki can’t help but rethink his entire conversation with you. He watches as your wings drap across the floor, feathers catching on the metal and he winces as some are left behind.

“Angels are real?” Loki thinks aloud.

“What did you do to her, dear brother?” Thor asks, defeated as he hovers by the glass. “Y/n is nothing but a kind spirit, a real angel, Loki. Couldn’t you see that?”

Lowering his head, Loki remains silent.

Without another word being said, Thor exits the vault, leaving Loki alone as the door is sealed shut once more.

Staring down at the stray feathers you left behind, Loki buries his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.” He mutters under his breath, wishing he could’ve believed you whilst you were here and seen the hope in your eyes, and the fear looking back at them.

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[doctoranon]

I Must Be Dreaming

Written for the MGI Civil war for Team Jason Supremacy

TW: Angst, Major character death, swearing

~~~~~

“Come on, baby. We’re going to be fine.” Jason mumbled into Marinette's dirty matted hair, desperation colouring his tone. “Gonna get us out of here, we’ll be fine.” he huddled close to the semi conscious woman, being careful as possible to not disturb any of the rubble that trapped them where they were.

They’d underestimated how desperate the Joker was this time, underestimated how many bombs were placed and now they were paying the price, he and Marinette were trapped under fuck knows how much rubble with sketchy comm links and no way of knowing quite how far off a rescue would be.

They had at least garnered that one was underway through the static of the comms, that they’d called in the big guns with Supes and the Flash to help with getting to them quicker. Still, he wasn’t sure that- no, no of course they’d both make it. Their wedding was next month and then they were starting their life together. The one they’d always dreamed of. But looking at the flow of blood from Mari’s head wound his heart kept shooting straight to his throat. Logically he knew that head wounds bleed a lot and he was trying to stem the flow with a ripped piece of his uniform. But he’d been a vigilante for more than half his life at this point, and he’d seen-

Shaking the thought from his head roughly, he placed a kiss on Marinette's hair line, smoothing it out of her face as she watched him in a daze, mumbling incoherently every now and then. Everytime she did so his heart calmed a little. Consciousness was good. As long as she kept awake and stayed with him they’d both be fine.

“Jay-” his attention diverted quickly to Marinette and he smiled down at her, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Hey, Baby.” he warbled, dropping a kiss to her lips. “You’ve scared me.” he admitted, feeling his shoulders relax slightly. Help was coming. Mari was awake.

“‘M not-'” the words were slurred and seemed to take all of her energy and concentration to push past her lips. Taking a small breath, she let go of a longer one before uttering “‘M Tired.”

“I know baby, but you can’t fall asleep right now. You know that.” he explained, moving his free hand to his comm and trying to get someone's attention, growling angrily when all that could be heard was a static reply. He knew Tim was trying to reply, but he didn’t know what he was saying, and wasn't even sure if Tim was getting his own messages.

Wincing when he bit his already split lip, Jason sighed and kept a watch on Marinette, before he started to feel a shift in the rubble surrounding them. Straightening himself as much as he could he gave a yell. If it was Supes then he probably already knew exactly where they were, but anyone else might have needed the sound to redirect them.

As more and more pieces of rubble started to shift, he bent over Mari, protecting her from as much debri as possible. “See, toldja we’d get out of this, didn’t I?” he smirked down at her, before noticing her closed eyes and shallow breaths.

Immediately becoming panicked, he patted at her cheek. “Hey! No! No, you stay with me for a little longer Baby. They’ve almost got us.” he insisted. Before shouting at whoever it was to hurry it the fuck up.

Patches of light started to come in and he could hear the others now, he wasted no time to relay Marinette's condition to them and their efforts seemed to double. But, as Marinette liked to remind him, Too much of a good thing can sometimes be bad. The universe balances itself out and all that jazz.

One wrong movement of the concrete had a rather large piece dislodge. Jason's position protecting Marinette had put him directly in its path and with a solid crack hit him in the back of the head, whiting out his vision with pain. Ears ringing he tried to shake it off and check on Marinette, but that only served to make him dizzy as fuck and spots dace across his quickly dimming vision.

The last thing he saw was a silhouette against a bright light where a large body sized gap now was in the rubble they’d been trapped in. Then his vision went black and he was swept into unconsciousness.

~~~

Feelings came back to him slowly and consciousness felt just beyond his grasp, but through sheer will he opened his eyes to look around. He was in a med bed in the bat cave. So at least that meant they were out, but Marinette was nowhere in his sight and he needed to make sure she was okay.

Struggling to sit up, Jason had already started to get out of bed when Dick rounded the corner and rushed to his side.

“Get back in bed!” he was scolded, as Dick tried to stop him from getting up, and failing miserably. Jason was going to find his Fiance and no one was stopping him.

“Not till I’ve seen Mari.”

“Well that’s not happening.” he was told, as Dick called for the others not far out of hearing range. “You’re getting back in that bed.”

“Get the fuck out of my way, Dick. I’m seeing Mari.” Jason insisted, trying to push his brother away from him as he staggered under his own weight for a moment. Reinforcements arrived under the guise of Tim, Chloe and Alfred and he groaned internally before noticing the red rimmed eyes the blonde was sporting and his heart froze.

Doubling his efforts, he pushed Dick away successfully this time. “Where is she, Tim?” His tone was frantic as he started on his way past his other brother. “Where the fuck is Marinette.” her name brought a whimper from the blonde and Jason's frantic eyes zeroed in on her. “Please.” he begged, refusing to believe the worst.

When no one moved or tried to answer his question he growled angrily, moving to push past them again before being stopped by both Dick and Tim.

“Jay, please, get back in bed. We’ll explain-”

“NO!” Jason struggled against the two former robins, his eyes beginning to drake on a greener hue. “Let me see Marinette!”

Feeling a presence come up from behind him, he felt rather than saw as something pricked his skin.

“I’m afraid, Master Jason, you need to calm down.” came the guilt laced tone of the Wayne butler. Something Jason felt triple his anxiety before the sedative began to kick in and his weight was caught by Tim and Dick.

“Mari-” he mumbled, before unconsciousness took him over again.

~~~~

The next time he was aware, he felt a hand in his own and a soft humming coming from his left. A familiar humming. A beautiful humming that belonged to-

 “Marinette.” he mumbled, opening his eyes and searching for her visage, smiling sleepily at her when he saw her sitting in a chair next to the bed. Bandages wrapped around her head.

“Hey, Sleepy head. It’s about time you woke up.” she smiled, squeezing his hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “You gave everyone a scare earlier.”

“You scared me. You weren’t here when I woke up- I thought-” he choked but he grinned at her through his tears. Pulling their hands to him and returning the kiss on the back of her hand. “I was worried, beautiful.”

Chuckling at him, she booped his nose with a scrunched up grinning face; A scrunched up, grinning alive face. “I’m not leaving you that easily.” she comforted, before letting go of his hand and waving her engagement ring in his face. “Besides, you put a ring on it. I’m yours. Forever.” she teased him, gaining a chuckle from him as he relaxed back into the pillows.

“If Dick-head had just old me you were okay-”

“Hey, don't blame your brother for your half cocked plans and jumping to conclusions!” she scolded him, a grin still fixed to her face. “You need to wake up when i'm here next time.”

Chuckling Jason felt at peace, knowing they were both okay. “Or you could not scare me in the first place”

Resting his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of all residual tension he had been holding onto. “So, any chance you’re going to show me that dress before the wedding now?” he teased, opening his eyes and over acting a pathetic look on his face. “Please?”

“Never. The day I walk up the aisle or not at all.”

“I had to try.”

Both chuckling at their antics, Marinette moved to cuddle up on the bed with him. “I can’t wait until the day after the wedding.” She told him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “When I wake up as Mrs Jason Todd.”

“I can’t wait for that either.” he beamed, kissing her sweetly and pulling back to stare into her eyes. “For that day, and every day afterwards.”

~~~~

Over the next few weeks, Jason felt like he was walking through a dream. The days felt like they moved slowly and quickly all at once. They both healed up and anticipation grew as the big day was suddenly upon them, and he was there, standing at the bottom of the aisle waiting for his soon to be wife to join him. 

As the song he didn’t even remember picking played, the most beautiful woman in the world walked towards him. Ready to commit her love and life to him forever. Something finally all his. Something permanent.

Dick leaned over his shoulder and nudged him with a wide grin. “You look mesmerised, Little Wing.” he whispered, the proudest grin Jason had ever seen aimed at him.

“I feel like I'm dreaming.”

Dick chuckled lightly as he faced the front again, eyes on the procession. “Then you better wake up, Jay. Because she's nearly here.”

As Marinette reached him at the altar, he reached for her hands, pulling her towards him and stealing a small kiss.

“Hey, save it for the end.” Tim, who was officiating at the behest of his brother teased them, as the seemingly faceless congregation chuckled in the background.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Jason laughed, feeling so full of love and life. Everything was perfect. Just like he and Marinette had dreamed.

Clapping his hands together with a bright and wide grin, Tim turned to face the audience. “Welcome, to the wedding of my Big brother, Jason Todd, and the girl I introduced him too, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Both the Bride and Groom have written their own vows and Marinette won the coin flip to go first.” Tim joked, before gesturing to the vision in white.

“Jason, the day we met, I knew you’d be a pain in my ass.” she teased, gaining a chuckle and ‘hear, hear’ from the people present, himself included. “And you are,” she added to a few more chuckles, as tears formed in both their eyes. “The day you first kissed me, I knew forever was what I wanted from you.” she grinned at him, tears falling down her cheeks, and he moved his hand to wipe them away.

“And the day I died, I knew I would leave you heartbroken.” Jason froze, the smile was still plastered on her face, and looking at Tim showed the same, as if Marinette had said nothing wrong at all.

“Wait, what?” His brow furrowed and heart starting to beat quickly in his chest. “I don't understand, Mari?”

“You need to wake up, Jason,” Tim was speaking now, the happy smile still plastered on his face as if he wasn’t breaking Jason's entire world.

“No. No I don't. We’re getting married,” Jason said frantically, looking around him at the guests and feeling a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

“Please, Little wing. Wake up.”

The world both fizzled out to black, the image of Marinette in her wedding dress fading quickly, and also gained a more realistic feeling behind closed eyelids.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason felt his lips tremble as he turned his head and slowly opened his eyes to his brother sitting next to him in a med bed in the bat cave.

His brother met his eyes, red rimmed and full of pain.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

The pause was a hundred years and no time at all.

“I- Yeah, Little wing. She’s gone.”

He closed his eyes again and turned to face the ceiling, tears spilling from under his eyelids.

“We were getting married.”

“I know.” was the choked reply, and he could hear the pain in Dicks voice, but he couldn’t feel anything over the rush of absolute nothing he felt.

“I love her so much, Dick.” he whispered, teeth clenching as he began to cry in earnest. Breathing felt strange, the whoosh of in and out feeling nothing like it should, and two arms encircled him as a low keening noise escaped from behind his still clenched teeth.

He was supposed to be stuck with her, forever. And as the thought of forever filled his mind, a forever now not including Marinette; Jason felt something in his chest shatter so explosively he knew he’d never find all the pieces again.

[herenortherenearnorfar]

This Tornado Tolerates And Respects You

A little story about Gothmog and orcs that I’ll probably put on other sites later. But for now, a tumblr exclusive! CW for the terrible reproductive politics of evil (implied reproductive coercion, forced childbearing, light eugenics), orc awfulness, disdain for incarnates, radiation poisoning, chemical weapons, Fingon’s fate, mentions of cannibalism, malnourishment, ear cropping, and all of the above with the implied harm to children.

Orcs, Lord Melkor’s special pet project, a blasphemy first and a strategic asset second, didn’t make the best troops. They could swarm over a target in a useful mass of bodies but they lacked skill and drive. For the Captain of Angband’s own force of fire and shadow, spirits sprung free from the tyranny of the Valar, orcs were a sea of troublesome bodies, cluttering up the field of battle. More flesh to whip through, barbed wire quick, more lungs to choke with lime gas. An annoyance, not an ally.

He didn’t have very high expectations of them as a source of soldiers and there were very few individual orcs who he respected. Gorfaunt was one of those rare exceptions.

They’d fought on the same battlefield under the taunting stars, in those blissful days before the heavens changed, and he’d been impressed by the orc commanders ability to marshal troops. Very few in that division ended up trampled beneath Balrog feet. Even the retreat was prompt, almost orderly, without sacrificing that wild spirit which was one of the orcs’ few redeeming qualities.

When it came time to capture the stripling-king of the elves he’d requested Gorfaunt’s orcs in particular. Once again they’d proven their mettle and the commander had become of of the Captain’s favorites. If orcs had to be stationed next to their betters it was preferable that it be Gorfaunt’s orcs, who knew how to comport themselves and could fight near Balrogs without dying in droves.

Now with the latest glorious battle (and another successful collaboration, the Captain still glowed at the memory of the Noldor’s latest king cracking open to spill his red insides over his silver banner) behind them and Lord Melkor demanding Nargothrond and Gondolin, they met once a month to strategize, share intelligence, and complain about everyone else. To an outsider they might have passed as friends. There was less formality between the two of them than another high general of the iron fortress might have demanded, they sat at the same table and spoke freely.

(The Lieutenant still asked commanders to bow before him; that was why even his own troops called him Sauron behind his back. Gothmog was a superior appellation, less insulting, more fearful, but he still didn’t hasten to encourage its use.)

Despite their surface level amicability and the handful of tried-and-true inside jokes—mostly having to do with how enemies had died— they could bat at each other, they knew very little about each other’s lives. Meat and smoke only mixed when making a brisket, trying to relate two such different ways of being seemed impossible.

But when he saw Gorfaunt waddling into their monthly kvetch with a belly round and swollen like a tick’s, the Captain felt driven to say something. He was the marshal of Angband, he couldn’t let his king’s forces go to seed.

“Are you ill? Cursed?”

Gorfaunt managed to pull out a chair, made for a Balrog three times the size of an orc, and hoist themselves into it with rangy arms. “No? Just five months with a baby kicking around in my insides. The little bugger’s finally starting to show itself.”

That took a second to decipher. “You’re having a baby?”

Of course the Captain knew the basics of how incarnates made more of themselves. It was a topic of great fascination in the old days, when Yavanna was first figuring the system out, and of course the Lieutenant would prattle on about warg breeding to anyone who’d listen. They had sex— another thing that did not come naturally to beings of spirits, though some Maiar had made astounding progress in the field, for pleasure was pleasure and even Nienna’s acolytes sought catharsis and comfort—then there was lots of squishy biology on a level invisible to the incarnates themselves, then a little parasite was somehow blessed with Erú’s fire, to be nurtured until it could nurture itself.

He also knew that orcs, like elves and dwarves, had little distinction between men and womenfolk. Useful when it meant you could channel your entire adult population to battle. Startling when you realized that a key ally had been quietly pregnant for months without you, a greater being able to perceive stalactites growing and the scales on insect wings, noticing.

In truth he’d been doing a lot less noticing of late. His senses were dulling. Perhaps it was the light of the cursed gems, which painted everything in blinding, indistinguishable holiness. Or he was just losing his touch.

If he focused now he could see it. It was easiest to sense on the plane of wraiths. There was Gorfaunt, a guttering candle; wheezing, weak. All orcs had that fire, however dim. No one had managed to fully extinguish it though it had been much suppressed. Tucked against her, nearly imperceptible, was a little spark. Not much yet but given tinder and carefully fanned it could grow. “You’re having a baby,” he marveled.

Gorfaunt’s face was… orcs were hard to read at the best of times, bubbling over with noisy pain and anger that obscured their true emotions, prone to skin diseases and horrendous eye infections that muddled their expressions. She didn’t wear her gas mask around him anymore, though most were quick to cover up around any Maia of Morgoth. It helped little, her face was still opaque as the mountain itself. “Yep, Captain.”

“Good?” You congratulated an ally on a new weapon, a new bond, a promotion. Which one was an infant classified as? What was the correct form?

“Hopefully it’ll be over and the little goblin will be in the caves with the old’uns by the time we find either of the cities.” Gorfaunt provided, only barely contextualizing his felicitations. She was chewing on the inside on her cheek; sometimes she would gnaw until she spat black blood. “Terrible time for it. Terrible time. But the high ups are worried about reinforcements down the line, I suppose.”

Orcs came from orcs. It was a fact so simple it barely bore considering. Another department handled it. The new ones just showed up, springy and long limbed, faces still soft and unmarred. “Goblins” he’d heard older orcs call those fresh pale creatures. Barely even monsters, more like stunted, crepuscular versions of the elves and dwarves they fought.

“How much longer?” They had a few good leads on Nargothrond, a promising word about Túrin Turambar. The Captain could not sack that city himself, the honor had already been promised to the sulfurous worm. Apparently they wanted to test the mettle of these dragons. But Gothmog could assign a few good orc commanders to supervise, make sure the worm was not overstepping his bounds.

Dark blood trickled out of the corner of Gorfaunt’s mouth. “Five months, I’m told. Could be more, could be less. Then I have to wait until the thing is independent enough to leave alone, that’s another few months.” She was probably counting months as the orcs had started to, by the moon. Wretched traitor, Tilion, who’d laughed with them at the idea of running away then turned his face when the time came to flee for freedom. They hated it as much as everyone else but in their hatred they were aware of its cycles. They rejoiced when it went dark.

“You’ll still be able to manage your underlings?” Orcs, and freed Maiar, were fractious. They did not respect a leader who lacked the strength to force them to obey. It could be exhausting. And Gorfaunt was already so round. The Captain did not wish to lose her support over one orcling.

“I think so. So far… in old days you’d den up somewhere for a year, avoid everyone prowling for blood, but I don’t want to fight my way up the ranks again. I’ve got an ax and I’m using it.” Despite that she sounded tired.

Long heartbeats stretched between them, that exquisite embarrassment of two coworkers suddenly forced to talk about private affairs.

“This is your first,” the Captain didn’t reach the tone of a question with that one.

“Yes. The recruiters were getting growly so I grabbed a fellow. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”

“You don’t want a child.” Again, not quite a question. He was feeling it out as he goes along. This is the longest conversation about orc reproduction he’s ever paid attention to, for the Lieutenants diatribes we’re always dull.

It was no matter to him, except that this was the only orc commander he could tolerate working with and she was chewing through her own cheek in discomfort.

“They take something from you,” Gorfaunt admitted. “Dame and sire both, but worse for the dame since she has to carry the clot. You go… stretchy. Bleached like old bone. I’ve seen soldiers and after twenty children they’re not good for anything but shoving onto a line of pikes. Raw meat for the wargs.”

That didn’t make sense to him, but he was never a scholar of flesh or spirit. He knew how a skull split and how a soul fled, how this matter-sprung life withered, how it died. That was all that counted. He also knew how to value a resource.

“There won’t be any after this,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t want them.” If need be he’d escalate to Lord Melkor, frame it as sapping strength from their command structure and propose making officers off limits from breeding programmes.

“As you command, Captain,” she said with a bowed head, but she looked gratifyingly relieved, and their conversation could finally move on to the latest stories of occupied territories and the search for the hidden cities.

The next few months Gorfaunt somehow managed to get bigger and bigger, until she was no longer able to swing herself into a chair and had to take their meeting standing. Her leather armor no longer fit and with just a thin layer of rags over her distended stomach it was easy to see the squirming creature inside.

Ferocious little animal. It would go so still and then kick out again, as if it could burst free of its creator by force of will alone. The kernel of its mind was forming too, a hazy bubble of sensation and half formed emotion. He could see what had the Lieutenant fascinated. It wasn’t his field but it was morbidly interesting, seeing the shape of something new and moldable come together right in front of you.

But he had not been made a sculptor or a craftsman. He’d been born a wild thing, a tornado, a volcano, every disaster meant to fell cities, and though he had not known the words yet he’d sensed in his core, seen in glimpses in the song, that he was a creature of war. Like many other wild things—Ossë, the simpering coward tied up in Uinen’s tresses, excluded— he’d found his way to Melkor in the end. Oh, he’d idled for a time with Vána, heard Námo’s dolorous call, but it was Melkor who he came back to and Melkor who he picked in the end.

Melkor taught him so many more ways to be. The smoke, the blood, the screaming not in sorrow but in anger. He taught the others who came to him as well. In the Captain’s little squad alone there was one who learned the slaver’s whip and the threat of fire, one who learned the ooze of pus and malodorous air, one who came to appreciate the ravenings of rabid beasts. From the dragons in the treasure-caves to the cat in the kitchen to the vampires in the highest towers, they were all Melkor’s creations.

Gorfaunt, born and raised here in the shadow of his ancient power, was even more Melkor’s than most. This was how the Captain rationalized his continuing fondness for her as she weakened, his interest in her spawn. Works of the same maker might gravitate together. They could see parts of themselves in each other, the way he could once see himself in other Ëalar born of the same bit of song.

When Gorfaunt came in four months after their revelatory meeting with a sagging belly and a bundle nestled against her chest he was excited to finally see what had been made.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her to show him the baby but no orc would outright refuse an order from anyone stronger than them, they knew better than that. The newborn was dutifully unwrapped and presented, though Gorfaunt’s expression suggested that she considered this all a silly waste of time.

It was a rumpled wet creature; mostly skin and bones, with a cranium as big as its rounded torso. Small too, barely bigger than Gorfaunt’s hand, and Gorfaunt was smaller than all elves and many humans; based on overheard complaints failure to grow was an ongoing issue with their kind. When it was unswaddled sticklike limbs flailed out and began batting at the air ineffectually. Despite this wriggling its face remained in a sleepy scowl. It wasn’t until Gothmog moved one cherry-hot finger closer to it that it opened its hazy grey eyes and tried to focus on him. Even then the dismayed frown stayed put.

An unscarred orc was always an interesting sight; for it revealed the scale of their reworking. How much orcishness was self-replicating, as the Lieutenant liked to claim, and how much had to be beaten in? This one had a droopy brow bone and already peeling corpse-grey skin but it did not look much like an orc besides that. It even had hair, which most orcs lacked (aside from a few lank patches). The fine red down covered its whole body, thickest on the head and face and arms.

“It’s supposed to fall out,” Gorfaunt said, “Everyone says it’ll fall out soon. Even the prisoners lose their hair after a while, especially in the deep mines.”

That was probably because of the miasma of decay that emanated from the ores of Angband. Not macro-decay, of skin and bone (that came later) but the infitesimal decay. Every piece of metal— every piece of existence, when you got down to it— was made of little stars. There was a gaseous center of energy and little orbiting specks around that, spinning in probabilistic loops. Like stars some were bigger and some were smaller and some were ready to collapse. Ilmarë loved to speak of supernovas. The yellow and blue metals below the mountain were full of little stars collapsing, reforming, giving off energy in great sums as they did so.

The Captain had noted the negative effects of this energetic output on incarnates some time ago. Elves sickened and humans just died— Lord Melkor had moved the man he hoped would give him the location of Gondolin far from those mines for a reason. A few of the spirits with natures inclined towards metal, salt, and industry had already incorporated the burning energy into their signatures. The Lieutenant doubtless had some wicked little experiment running with it. It was a part of life here, that background hum of a trillion crumbling particles, and the Captain never thought of the effect on orcs, though they were exposed from birth.

Now that he focused he could see the little crumbs of decay glancing off the baby.

Hmm.

It would probably be fine.

It was already rubbing its eyes and going back to sleep, one hand curled next to a crumpled, not-yet-cropped ear.

“Are you recovered?” he asked Gorfaunt.

“I’m fit enough to fight,” she said shortly, defensively, as if afraid he’d snatch her command from her. “I’ll be better soon when this thing is gone.”

The Captain’s huge palm hovered over her infant. He knew better than to touch; his ability to change forms was not what it once was, he could not stop being a bipedal avalanche, to strong, too close, too dangerous. Even just containing the noxious gases— the pustulent yellow and choking green— simmering inside this war shaped body was difficult. If he kept a few feet distance the chaotic heat of his skin faded into the air and the baby wriggled contentedly in the ambient glow, like a little lizard.

“And how long will that be?”

Gorfaunt’s hand twitched. Another few months, till it can manage worm meal and listen to the grands.”

It seemed impossible that anything could be big enough to leave alone in such a short time; but incarnation was not the Captain’s specialty. “And that’s the accepted practice?”

“A little young, but safe now that the master put a stop to the baby eating problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a concern,” the Captain said very seriously, even though his fingers curled slightly around the baby’s limp body. “We can make modifications if the child must stay longer.”

Gorfaunt glanced down at her sprawled offspring. “I don’t— I don’t want this to last any longer. I’d rather have my life go back to normal.”

That, at least, he could understand. It has been a rather troubling experience overall. Revelations are not always useful and though he’s gained some knowledge it’s not very practical stuff.

“One more question, commander, then I’ll drop the matter. What is it named??”

That nascent mind bubble had sharpened with time and experience but was still comprised mostly of sensation. He could not even grasp at a basic sense of self. The child’s mother should know what if calls itself, if anyone did.

(He wanted to remember the name, for forty years from now, when he needed more good orcs. All those rants about the fundamentals of inheritance left him with some ideas about how incarnates develop traits. Another Gorfaunt would be a helpful tool to have on hand.)

The question left Gorfaunt unimpressed. “It doesn’t name itself anything yet, it hasn’t got the common sense. And no one’s given it a name because it hasn’t done anything interesting.”

“It has an interesting look” the Captain pointed out, “Tell them to call it Red Cap,” he slipped into the elf tongue, which had better color words than the one the Lieutenant devised, and in the process accidentally named the child after a former king of the Noldor. “Or something like that.”

Gorfaunt apparently had a better memory for politics than he gave her credit for, or perhaps just a distaste for the elf cant, because she quickly translated it back into Angband’s crackly tongue . “Rotbint.”

“Yes.” A Balrog, even the chief of Balrogs, could not give much to something so soft and incarnadine. A name, incorporeal, existing in the plane the Captain knew best, was the only thing he could offer. “Now, to business?”

Gorfaunt wrapped the little creature away— it woke halfway through the rolling to stare at them once more— then tucked it against her chest.

The Captain was sad to see it go, though he couldn’t say why.

He remembered that he had come to this physical world for a reason once. He had wanted to see all there was to see, to feel and taste everything, chew chunks of Arda up and spit it out new. Disasters hungered as much as anyone. Yet all he’d had lately was war fare; blood-soaked mud and rage-tinged fear.

Deprived of fresh experiences, he clung to the potential, the novelty, of new life.

Perhaps Gondolin would see him out of his funk, he thought. It couldn’t hide forever.

“We’ll find it, Captain,” Gorfaunt assured him stubbornly. “And we’ll tear it down brick by brick, raze their gardens, fill their streets with blood.”

Even with a baby trying to gum her collarbone her firm tone allowed no questions.

Orcs were, as a rule, bothersome, unruly, walking corpses. Fractious, ugly, difficult, bothersome, recklessly stupid. The Maiar serving under the Captain were sometimes stereotyped as simpleminded brutes but at least they were able to perceive the world around them, even if few bothered to use that perception. In comparison orcs were stumbling around in the dark. They were inefficient as well, you needed three of them to take down any decent enemy. But when they were well made they were well made. Those were the ones that made it all worth it.

It had to be worth it. This was freedom, after all.

[ninzied]

i’ve been really feeling the energy surrounding the discourse on race re: the falcon and the winter soldier, and i think it is so crucial that the mcu has created space for this conversation. in that vein, and because i have genuinely enjoyed the show for many reasons that i wish not to detract from, i would like to expand on this space by discussing ways in which the show could have engaged more thoughtfully with its themes of racialized trauma.

for your consideration, a list of the show’s side characters who identity as bipoc, and how their arcs in fact work to reify certain stereotypic portrayals of race in tv/film/etc:

isaiah bradley: the military-sanctioned super soldier program that experimented on bradley for 30 years in jail is a clear allusion to the tuskegee study in the mid-1900s, which subjected black bodies with syphilis to decades of unethical experimentation, including the withholding of life-saving treatment, in order to study the natural progression of the disease. i actually think his conversations with sam were so important to have. it’s the first explicit mention of race that problematizes the shield as a symbol. sam comes to acknowledge that it also stands for a country that has built itself on the backs of black (and immigrant) bodies - and that is where they mean for these bodies to stay, through exploitation of labor, medicalized violence (tuskegee being only one example of many), police brutality, the segregation of schools, discriminatory housing and criminal justice systems, and so on. my issue is that these systems of oppression are so deeply rooted that to skim the bare surface - to present this one singular narrative - is reductive of a longstanding history that does not live externally to the mcu and is frankly not going to cut it. waiting until episode 5 to have this conversation was also a disservice to sam. maybe his own generational trauma was too internalized for him to have the language to express it. but if the show had addressed this better and sooner, it would come off less as sam trying to move through the world thinking he’s just like any other guy who also happens to be a superhero. when he goes to the bank with sarah, flaps his ‘wings’ and still doesn’t qualify for a loan; or when he chides a kid for referring to him as ‘black falcon’ rather than, simply ‘falcon’ - these moments reinforce the idea that the lived experience of his blackness is not fully realized until bradley forces this articulation upon him. it is as though sam could not already be aware of their collective racialized trauma without the ‘revelation’ of bradley’s personal trauma writ large that he endured as a super soldier. which is just weird and inconsistent given what sam has been through, including his own troubled relationship with the military. for sam to take up the shield is not a ‘solution’ to racism, any more than the shield is a symbol of heroism, when its legacy stems from a country of deeply imperialist and colonialist roots.

lemar hoskins: relegated to the black best friend stereotype aka sidekick to the main white character. his two most memorable scenes function mostly in service of john walker’s story - firstly in walker’s decision to take the serum, and secondly as the catalyst to walker’s grief, rage and vengeance that will utterly transform him. this development of walker’s character can only occur through the literal death of another black body.

literally every east asian character, but specifically leah, yori and yori’s son rj: these characters are the least fleshed out on their own, as they all exist solely to lend more depth to bucky’s trauma. i say this because though yori is grieving, his grief is all secondary to bucky’s guilt over being the cause of that grief. leah, who plays a love interest for her five seconds of screen time, becomes yet another of countless examples of the fetishization of asian female bodies. (all of this is particularly tone-deaf in the wake of rising anti-asian hate crimes, and the mass killing of asian female spa workers by a man who wished to eliminate ‘temptation’ for his sexual addiction.) also, it would be nice to see a show finally lean away from the asian food establishment setting for its asian characters. that is not the only place they eat and work and also go on dates after they work????

olivia walker: a great example of tokenism that checks multiple boxes (‘look how diverse our cast is - and we have an interracial couple!’) even though she speaks 0-2 lines throughout the whole show.

karli morgenthau and co: the actress who portrays karli is half-jamaican, and it is not hard to notice that the overwhelming majority of the radicalized flag-smashers group are bipoc as well. at surface level it might make sense for the show writers to choose this kind of representation - the ‘displaced’ are all members of marginalized communities, and racial diversity (i.e., diversity from the norm, i.e., not-white) is the easiest way to depict these communities. but for this reason, it also seems that the show could not be more careless with the parallels it has drawn to our current climate. during a global pandemic, which has disproportionately affected those already most disenfranchised; increased our obsession with border control; and galvanized movements against racialized violence, perhaps the last thing we need right now is a narrative that vilifies a marginalized group of people trying to combat structural oppression (operationalized in this case by the grc, which has a clear militaristic and political pedigree*). perhaps the last thing we need right now is a narrative in which marginalized people gain the power to enact change (i.e., serum), but only know how to use that power to cause more harm.

*please note: the senator who grants walker his other than honorable discharge is one and the same as the talking head of the grc. who gave this guy all the power, and what good is he using it for? this may be a hot take but the government + military washing their hands of walker and taking zero responsibility for their role in his making is not great for ‘optics’ either. but the show, for all its moralizing, doesn’t seem to be aware of the dissonance here?

[justmywriting1313]

HC’s for level of protectiveness Part 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi and Satan)

Heyyyo friends, I hope you all are getting 8 hours of sleep and eating right!!!! 😊

So I was just thinking about all the obey me boys and yes those we cant date as well and my interpretation of their characters and one of the things I couldn't help thinking about (especially after reading so many fics) was their kind of levels of protectiveness if that makes sense and since I know this would be short (considering what I usually write so still a bit long) I thought it would be cool to post like and HC about it?? I dont know but as always i hope you like it!! 😊😊

Also for this I am talking about protection in terms of various things so being protective in a physical sense vs and emotional sense... Another way you can kind of see this is as the manner in which they might take care of you... it might make more sense when you read it 😅😅

Also let me know what you think about it cause some of these might be different or controversial

Summary: How do the boys take care of you? (The list below is kind of like roughly who is most to least protective so this makes sense though overall they are all bloody protective. Also Luke = Baby therefore platonic )

Mammon  

Beel

Asmo

Satan

Luke

Lucifer

Belphie

Simeon

Solomon and Diavolo (tied)

Barbatros

Levi

TW: None (let me know if they are any)

LUCIFER: 6

Okay so with Lucifer I actually don’t think he would be the most protective of M/C but hear me out okay! I think yes instinctually he would want to make sure no harm comes to them and like shelter them from the world but I think after the whole Lilith thing and also growing up with mainly brothers he would know that over-sheltering can lead to worse consequences than better ones and so I think he would hold back more than his brothers. I think he also knows that a part of your experience in Devildom is learning about demons and their life in general and yes you are more fragile compared to them so obviously it will be a bumpy ride but that is exactly whats going to make it an educational experience you know. 

Thats not to say he is not going to be protective at all because after all he is the oldest brother and I think he sees it as his duty to hold a balance between keeping you safe and making sure you walk away from an experience as stronger and more confident in yourself, something that would only be reinforced if you are already not that confident in yourself. I mean he already does it for all his brothers and he sees you as part of the family. 

I think for this reason he would be more protective of you based of physical safety rather than emotional. So say you were in a confrontation with another lower level demon, if it was verbal he would not step in, he would expect you to at least for the first few minutes hold your own and stand up for yourself, and seeing you do that would make him smile cause he would feel pride which is like you know his whole thing. But if it were to get even remotely physical, like if the demon were to even wave their hand angrily in your direction Lucifer is jumping in before anyone can say anything to literally hide you in the cocoon of his wings no questions asked. The other demon should have enough sense to walk away then cause otherwise Lucifer is not leaving him alone. 

This can be both positive and negative. Positive because at the end of the day they are demons and they are stronger and your life is in danger so having him step in is good but the emotional burden of this stuff could possibly be more hurtful than the physical part and so despite him stepping in the damage could already be done you know? 

He would notice the change in your behaviour where you would be more reserved but I don’t think he would understand until maybe one of the brothers like Asmo, Beel or even Satan who I would say read emotions better recognise that its the emotional aspect that is hurting you would point it out to Lucifer. 

He would try to make a change and to make sure that the emotional side of things doesn’t get too much from that point on but I also think it would take him time. 

I also firmly believe that as much as this being loves all of his brothers with all his heart and trusts most of them he would under no circumstance trust his brothers with you unless Beel is there, who could very easily, no matter how heavy you are, sling you over his shoulder and run away. This is not because his brothers don’t love you or take care of you, I mean usually they go overboard but because trouble seems to follow them as if it were literally a part of them. From Mammon dragging you into chaotic and worrisome schemes and interactions with witches, to Levi not being the least bothered by the outside world and forgetting 3D humans exist, to Satan losing his temper, to some old lovers of Asmo becoming angry, to Belphie falling asleep in dangerous places… Your life seems to be in a lot of danger and so unless Beel or himself is present Lucifer would have a hard time leaving you completely alone in their care. It would be even harder if you all were actually leaving the dorm. I do think though he would be most forgiving of what happened with Belphie because he would blame himself. 

I know this seems contradictory since he usually does leave you alone but its usually in places which are a) safe like RAD or the Dorm and b) places where Beel, Diavolo, Barbatros or himself would be easily accessible. 

Overall I don’t think he is the most protective but he is definitely up there in that he wants you to be safe, happy and not on the verge of death at any point of time. Yes you may get hurt sometimes especially emotionally and he might not be the most sympathetic but at the end of the day its only because he wants the best for you and if someone does go too far he is more than happy to pay the person a visit or even send Beel. 

MAMMON: 1

Writing fluffy stuff for Mammon always makes my heart flutter because the poor thing is so sweet and sensitive even if he hates letting people see that side but I am still going to do my best. I think he is one of the main brothers who is not just protective by all standards but he is also the most protective in each and every manner and though he will deny it later he does not think at all before stepping in. 

Again I can see several reasons for it but the most prominent one that comes to mind is that he really likes the idea of taking care of someone, having someone depend on him and making him feel needed. This can also be why he feels so possessive of you and always claims to be your first man because he wants to be the first one to come your mind for anything. Despite being the second oldest, due to his sin and the reputation he holds, his brothers don’t depend on him as much as he may want them to which is why not only do their words hurt so much each time but he is really starved of love and so he takes that need to protect and directs all of it on you. His indulgence in his greed takes a toll on the relationship between him and his brothers and so they might not come to him seeming him as almost inadequate and that stings. For the first time there is someone who actually looks up to him for love, reassurance, comfort and safety and so he takes it very seriously. He never wants you to think that he can’t be there for you or that someone is more apt for looking after you other than him and this would be the case even if you guys were best friends and not in a relationship. 

Another reason I can see him being protective of you is because and this is especially if you are kind hearted or compassionate or even just naive; He knows people will take advantage of you and all that you have to offer. He is the literal Avatar of Greed, he knows that people are often greedy for things besides money and would take advantage of someone like you so he sees it as his moral duty to just keep you from this side of the world you know… Its just he knows the world can be cruel and he can’t help but want to shelter you from all of it. Despite being a demon he loves the innocence you hold and just keep with you. You are also probably the positive ray of sunshine for him no matter what your personality is. He looks to you for the very things he can’t find anywhere else and so he wants to protect your smile. 

Unlike Lucifer he won’t realise that some experiences in life are necessary. This would be reinforced when you open up to him about what you may or may not have gone through once you both get closer or when he sees you cry for the first time. In this sense I feel like Mammon’s protectiveness of you is the most pure and loving of the brothers not because the others love you less but because despite being greedy it doesn’t come from a place of selfishness or atoning for past mistakes. He is not going to hold back in favour of you learning things nor is the protectiveness driven by the fact that he lost Lilith. I think he does the best job at separating you from her, it is driven solely by love and genuine want to see you happy. 

With that said if he were to see any demon get verbally or physically rough with you he is immediately stepping in no matter what you say. A demon that had the gall to call you weak or say anything else; woman hold Goldie while Mammon clobbers them, only he gets to call you that. (you know that UR card of him shaking his fist while wearing bunny ears - I imagine that same image just without the ears). Someone tried to hit you in anyway; He gets someone else to cover your eyes or to distract you while he beats them into a pulp (I imagine like cartoon noises while Asmo covers your eyes and gets Solomon to cover your ears; boom/bamf/slap). On that note he is also protective of what you see; He doesn’t want you to lose your positivity so he doesn't like letting you see like bad things. I can see him like covering your ears when something dark graphic or sad is being said or like covering your eyes when someone is getting hurt or something. He would then take you back to your room all the while grumbling about how he did it cause Lucifer would chew him out when in reality the idea of you remotely hurt he just can’t stand. He would then sit and have a movie night with you which would eventually end up with him hugging you and making sure you are okay. 

When it comes to his brothers, I think yes, he trusts them and he knows you would be safe with them but I think he doesn’t like the idea that its true and this would only happen after everything has resolved itself. He is protective before because he knows he has the best control when it comes to not letting his anger get the best of him. Except for Asmo each brother has come close to literally obliterating you and so I can see him holding caution if that makes sense. I also can see him never leaving you alone after the Belphie situation (if you know you know). I think the Belphie thing will never leave him like ever, thats just going to sit in his chest because it would be a reality. He now knows exactly what will happen and what it feels to not have you and so in that sense with Belphie around he is protective. 

Overall, I genuinely think he is the most protective of the brothers. Some may argue that Beel is more but I think Mammon is the most sensitive when it comes to you and he is more protective of you. Whether Beel is better equipped to be protective of you is a different question but in my head Mammon tops the list. It comes from a place of love and sincerity and I think thats what would make it seem so beautiful. 

LEVIATHAN: 11

Okay for Levi I won’t lie it was a bit difficult for me to write only because his character was difficult to grasp in terms of character development (Same for Satan and Asmo btw). With that said I think his protection for you would come in a completely different form form the others. I think physically despite being a demon and being amazingly strong he underestimates himself and would not jump into a physical altercation with anyone. (unless his demon form took over or it is Mammon) He would probably leave that to Beel or one of his other brothers instead trash talking the other person as just support. Emotionally also I think he has such a bad self image that things that may be emotionally burdensome or hurtful for you he thinks are normal. Though after he spends time with you he will start changing that way of thinking. Emotionally he might just insult that person back for you though I think, regardless of whether it’s true or not, he believes that you can hold up your own and so would not get involved. 

His protection (though with Levi I genuinely don’t think thats the right word) would be giving you confidence when you need it most and backing you up if that makes sense? I guess you can see that as emotional protection but I genuinely only see him being protective when like someone is blaming you for something you haven't done or like your sincerity is being questioned. For him thats bigger than any physical or emotional insult, not because he thinks you are like invincible but because he has learnt to brush them of and he thinks everyone can do the same. However because he believes so strongly in your values and morals as a person he would not, could not and will not take any insult for you in that way. I think thats why he is so important as a character because he balances out the others by being sort of different because his way of protection is different. He is physically strong, he is also quick witted and has sharp tongue but unlike the others he doesn’t see these as his strengths. He sees support and diligence in being a friend as his strong suits and actively shows that to you; I think thats so beautiful. So for example if Lucifer is chewing you out for a bad grade despite the fact that you worked hard for it. I can see Levi standing up for you and telling Lucifer that the work you put in is what matters more. He would do it casually. Though these times are rare I think these are times Levi is most vocal. 

I also think he would be the first to realise that sometimes a person needs protection most from themselves and so another way he would protect you is by teaching you to brush of others or when you are being too harsh with yourself and just pushing yourself too much due to his persistence and somewhat loud reactions he will force you to take a break and take care of yourself even if you don’t want to. He understands pushing yourself also because he does it for his games but he does recognise the difference in seriousness of the situation and would step in. 

With his brothers it really depends on a) the situation b) the brother and c) the duration for which he has to be outside his room. For example if it is Beel, Asmo, Satan or Lucifer I think he would be completely fine and would not care because he would know that all four of them would not let anything happen to you or would step in before anything could (whether this judgement is true or not is still up for discussion). With Mammon I think because their sins are kind of similar but also different in that they are both greedy but unlike Mammon who would just indulge in the greed Levi sulks about not getting it. So he would not like leaving you with Mammon but at the end of the day he knows Mammon does love and care for you and so if there was a situation where he had to leave you with Mammon he would do it... while grumbling. The only person I can see him holding extreme caution with is Belphie. He would play it under the guise of either he doesn't want to leave you in an awkward situation with Belphie but I think the deeper insecurity would be having his friend taken away from him again. Here is someone who hasn't just agreed to be his friend but actively tried to engage and deepen the relationship and for him that is probably rare, even more so because unlike Solomon who wanted to make a pact with him your love for this relationship comes from a genuine care and want to get to know him and the fear of having someone take that away from him would mean he would be protective with Belphie around, maybe not as much as Mammon but still. 

Overall i’ve done my best to see him as somewhat protective but honestly in this character list for this trait he comes last. His relationship be it friendship or romantic is based more on mutual comfort and care and so I think him being protective is rare. He prefers to show his care and love for you by spending time with you, making you laugh, caring for you. The image I have is like there are two separate doors. One is to his world and the other is yours. Every morning you both go and deal with all the annoyances of your lives and then come back battered and bruised; sometimes it’s not that bad but other days its the worst right and then as you come back you both kind of nurse the life back into each other and just soak the comfort of the other in and thats the way I see that relationship build. The only other thing I could see is when envy turns into jealousy (and YES they are separate things) but that would be once you guys start going out. I also think no matter what personality you have, you would be the more protective one solely because he needs it more in life. 

SATAN: 4

Okay so Satan I think is very interesting in this regard because despite being the Avatar of Wrath he is not the most visibly protective. Key word; visibly. So far Lucifer; physically more so than emotionally, Mammon; the most in both regards, Levi; the least but all still very apparent in their protectiveness. I really think and actually like the idea of Satan being protective but kind of from a distance like he is watching over you without you ever realising it. This is for a couple reasons. 

The first being that he prides himself on his ability to control though obviously he doesn’t have the best control of the brothers I think proportional to the difficulty of his sin he does a pretty amazing fricking job. Given that, he wouldn’t at any point want M/C to see him lose control except for the times they already have right? And since being protective can mean he could lose control, he would not visibly be protective.

I also think he likes to hold onto this idea that he is the most nonchalant and unaffected by what goes on around him. He likes to hold a reputation of being cool, pragmatic and like he has control; a lot like Lucifer actually (what a surprise) and so if someone (especially M/C) were to see him get huffy he would be really irritated. Lastly again like Lucifer he thinks besides books the best way to enrich your own life is by experiencing things first hand or at least trying them once and so he would want M/C to learn to stand up for themselves especially in situations where the brothers may not be there and you would have to hold their own (this is rare but still).

With that said I think he actually is probably fourth most protective on this list (12 other character so thats pretty high) and this is only because he protects you from a distance. So say a demon had picked on you in class right or said something hurtful, something that you are insecure about. In the moment Satan would not react allowing you to handle it yourself, letting you feel the accomplishment of having gotten through it and standing up for yourself. Then later he would catch the demon when no one else was around and thats when he would make a move. He would make it clear that if the demon were to ever attack you in anyway again Satan would not be nearly as lenient as he is being now. He would definitely rough up said demon so that they knew he meant it. He is also a bit of sadist so if anyone were to hurt you he would let the person think they got away with it only because the chase for him would be all the sweeter and he would get to blow of steam. 

I also think that Satan is one of the more emotionally intelligent demons and does a better job on picking up on emotions faster similar to Levi the protectiveness or better yet the care would come after. He would make sure that whatever the situation, there were no long lasting effects on you. So say that demon had picked on an insecurity right, Satan would make sure you knew and understood that not a word of it were true and that you were oh so loved. He would make sure there were no nightmares following the situation and if you needed someone to be there and to talk to he would be there. 

I think if it had been physical right? Yes he would jump into it and make sure that the other person didn’t go too far but again to avoid showing you his true wrath he would find the demon later and would not let him get away. I think this is also where he might, despite his aversion to the oldest demon, ask Lucifer to step in and send one of the other brothers solely because like I said Satan’s protectiveness of you is based on this not having any long lasting effects. He would want to be the first one you go to for comfort or even to patch you up. He knows he has physical strength and obviously wants to hold this person accountable but your emotional well being comes first. 

When it comes to his brothers I see this going two ways. Firstly (this makes me sad) despite knowing his brothers do dumb stuff and keep getting everyone into trouble he trusts them in keeping you more safe than he ever could because he is the Avatar for Rage which just makes me want to cry. He feels like he is always strung too tight and despite having marvelous control (again proportionally) he would still be wary of being alone with you for too long and would think he is worse than his brothers. (On a similar note; it really pisses me of that it’s not recognised how unfair Satan’s sin truly is. The others are indulging in their sins and its written of as being okay but for Satan that is not a luxury he can afford) 

On the other hand I think he trusts Mammon, Levi, Belphie and even Beel as far as he could throw them when it comes to you. Mammon because well its Mammon. Levi because Satan is worried he would literally forget that you exist or might break your brain by talking like one of his 2D characters. Mammon and Levi together is an interaction Satan actively makes you avoid without even realising because Diavolo forbid you get caught in one of their squabbles. He would literally have you stand behind him when those two are together. Belphie because despite his possessiveness of you as the Avatar of Sloth he doesn’t like putting energy into things and would definitely not be fast enough to jump into saving you if the need arose. Also I think Satan would be somewhere in the middle on the scale of trusting Belphie because he understands anger better than anybody else but he also knows what Belphie did was not right. Beel only because despite Beel warning Mammon that whatever he is doing is not safe he waits until the last minute to intervene and for someone like Satan who literally plans for everything preemptively thats very draining to worry about. 

Overall he is protective on most standards but he likes to be protective from a distance almost like a guardian demon you know. He gets to keep to his ideas and values while still giving you space and not being suffocating but also still taking care of you and I think thats really beautiful that the avatar of wrath goes to such extents and its all for you like thats pretty amazing. 

Okay hopefully ill get the other brothers up soon enough but yeah as always i hope you guys like it and please reblog and request stuff :)

Masterlist

[bebepac]

Substitute Queen (Happy Birthday Queen Walton!)

This is a special edition of Fast Forward for my friend @queenwalton as she enjoys this series I've created a lot and it is her birthday! (Well a day early!)

I'm pretty sure you have been following along with me since I started writing on the fandom a little over a year ago. Thank you for your friendship and support. I hear from you after every chapter I post and I love it. Also thank you for being my trustworthy reader of infinite snippets. I hope you have an absolutely wonderful birthday my friend. 🥰🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤

A/N:  Thanks @dcbbw​ for bouncing some ideas around with me, and giving me a few to make this birthday fic even better.  Thank you girl.  

Summary:  Riley and Liam go on their first vacation alone since the events of Ellie’s kidnapping.  Maxwell and Taylor take care of all the children.  Maxwell throws a “Baby” Beaumont Bash.

Original Post Date: 03/24/21 at 11:55AM EST

The Book:  TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley  / Maxwell x Taylor 

Warnings:  None other than hilarious fluff

Word Count: 2425

Song inspiration for this chapter: Baby Shark (Trap Music Remix) 

I don’t own rights to this hilarious music.  

Liam saw Riley standing  in the study with her back turned to him.  The King of Cordonia shifted seamlessly into stealth mode as he crept silently into the study, surprising his Queen by pouncing on her like a lion, grabbing her and slipping his arms around her waist, and sensually planting a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on her neck.  He gently rubbed himself against her.  

“Take a break for a little while my love.”

He felt her body tense up.

“EEEWWWWW GROSS!!! NOT YOUR WIFE!!!  OOOOH GOD!!!!!!! NOT YOUR WIFE!!! PUT THAT THING AWAY!!!!!!  YOU HAVE FOUR KIDS!?!?!?!?!?  AREN’T YOU GUYS TIRED OF DOING THAT?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?”

Liam quickly recoiled from her.   Liam looked genuinely horrified when she turned to face him.

“I’m so sorry Taylor.  From behind, I swear I couldn’t…I mean I didn’t…..”  

“Bleh!!!! Don’t finish that sentence!!!!!!

Riley walked in the room seeing Taylor and Liam visibly uncomfortable.

“What did I miss?”  

“I need a bath!!!  Your husband thought I was you.  Apparently we look the same from behind.”  

Riley glanced at Taylor.  “I mean…. He’s really not completely wrong Tay.  Now that you had the twins, we really do.”  

Taylor scowled.  

“And that right there is why no one will mistake us for each other from the front.  Your scowl face.”

“Well this is a sufficiently awkward conversation, so I’m going to go, especially after I’ve completely embarrassed myself. Riley when you’re finished, please come by my study.”  Liam still had a flush on his cheeks and ears.

“For real, put that thing away Liam, it’s barely lunch time.”  Taylor grumbled.

“I will be there.”  She winked at him.  

Liam’s smile returned.  

“Can one of you keep it in your pants please?  You two are like horny teenagers.”  

“I’m okay with that.”  They both said in unison smiling at each other.  Liam left the room.

“Are you going away for your wedding anniversary?”

“We probably should, but we have our date nights, and we can always sneak some time alone now that the kids are a little older, now that everyone is potty trained and not on the boob anymore.  God I missed my boobs being mine, and now that they are again, of course they look like a dumpster fire after breastfeeding four kids.”  

“Well that’s one hell of a bra then.”

“Who are you telling? They would be dragging the floor otherwise.”

Taylor laughed.  

“Please don’t do that visual to our body.”

“It is our body right?”  

Riley and Taylor giggled.  

“You two should go away alone.  You two never get adult time… And I don’t mean just for that.  You two apparently get more than enough adult time for that.” 

“Tay, it’s just that we haven’t really been away from the kids.  Anywhere we go, we travel as a family.  I feel safer that way, so does Liam.”  

“Because of me right?”  

“Tay….”

“It is.  The last time you two tried to go on vacation was when I took Ellie, and you haven’t been apart from them a day since.  It’s my fault you two are afraid to be away from your children."

“Taylor, Liam and I have forgiven you for that, a long time ago.  We know that you’re not the same person you once were.”

“Prove it, you two take a trip, and it’s a trip you two desperately deserve. I promise the palace will be still standing when you get back.”

Taylor smiled at Riley.

“Please let me do this for the two of you. It’s been one thing after another, and you guys deserve a vacation. Let me and Max take care of the kids.”

“Tay… you do realize that would be your two barely crawling plus my four.  You two would be taking care of six children.”  

“And your kids are pretty self sufficient.  They can feed themselves.”  

“You’ll need some reinforcements, Tay. For real.  I’ll call Drake and Hana to help.”  

“I really think Max and I can handle it.”

“Tay…”  

“Riley, we got this.”

*^*^*^*^* Taylor and Maxwell *^*^*^*^*

“You volunteered us for WHAT?!?!?!?!?”

“Oh come on Max, they’re just kids.”

“Yeah, and we’ve been lucky to keep the two of ours alive so far.  We’re going to be outnumbered Softie. There’s going to be six of them and two of us. You have put them at an unfair advantage.”  

Taylor laughed.

“This is not a war Maxwell.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a war.”

A week later,  Riley and Liam were preparing to leave for their first vacation alone, since they had children.  

Riley kissed and hugged each child.

“Now you kids behave for Auntie Taylor and Uncle Maxwell.  I’m counting on you Miss Crown Princess for a report when I return. You know you’re first in command Ellie.”

Ellie stood up straight and squared her shoulders.  “I promise Daddy, we’ll all be good.”

Ellie gave a little salute.

Liam gave one back.

“As you were, my princess.”

Riley, still kneeling, smoothed down Liberty’s little curls.  Her little lip was already trembling.  

“Mommy loves you baby.”  She kissed her little cheeks.  

“Are you ready to leave My Love?”  

Riley stood up nodding.   Liam reached out her hand for hers.  

They started to walk towards the SUV.  

“Mama.”  

Liam felt Riley stop.  

“It’s okay My Love we can do this.”  

Riley’s eyes were quickly filling with tears.

Riley resumed her stride.

“Dada?”

The little inflection of a question in Liberty’s voice made Liam stop dead in his tracks. His grip tightening on Riley’s hand.  Liam took a deep shaky breath.

"Don't look back Liam, you know we won't leave if we do."

Bastien and Nico could see how the King and Queen were struggling to leave their children.

“Your Majesties, come this way.”  Bastien called out to them gently.

Both the King and Queen were in tears hearing their youngest burst into tears at the sight of them leaving, as they climbed into  the black SUV.

“It’s okay.  They’ll be fine Riley. They have reinforcements.”

“Taylor wouldn’t let me call Drake or Hana.”  

Liam hit a button on his phone. He put the phone on speaker.

“What’s your location?”  

“Already inside the palace.”  

“Olivia?”  

“And you fully understand the plan?”

“Let your tiny humans drive Taylor and Maxwell insane?”

“NO!!!!”

“I know the plan Liam! Not be seen and keep a watch on them, and only appear if they need help with the children. “

“Yes. Thank you Liv.”  

“I do this because we’re friends Riley.”  

“Liberty has a set of lungs on her, she hasn’t stopped crying since you two left.  I’m sure she’ll be fine.”  

“Thank you Liv.”  

“They’ll be fine, i’ll be watching. Enjoy your vacation already.”  

“Where are we headed? Since you wouldn’t disclose a location to me, I literally packed for everything including plagues and fire rain.”  

“For some fun in the sun on our own private beach.”

“Good thing I packed a bathing suit.”  

“You won’t be needing it.”  

Riley smacked Liam’s arm as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

*^*^*^*^*^* Meanwhile back at the Palace *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

“C’mon Libby it’s okay.   Mommy and Daddy will be back.”  

Taylor picked her up, rocking her in her arms.  

“Shhhhhh… it’s okay Libby.   Auntie Taylor is here, so is Uncle Max.”

Libby’s cries subsided a little but not significantly.

“Can I try?”  Ellie asked.

Ellie crossed her eyes and made a funny face at Libby causing her to break out into a fit of giggles.  

“We’re evening out the odds.  Three on three, I like those odds better Taylor.  We might actually survive this. They will listen to one of their own.  Ellie is like our super agent spy.”

By the end of day one both Taylor and Maxwell were exhausted, tending to and chasing around six children.  At least their two were relatively easy to catch, as they were barely mobile.

“Why did I think the children being self-sufficient was going to be a good thing?  I’ve never been this tired in my life.”  

“Is this what we have to look forward to when they’re older?”  

"Seems like it."

^*^*^*^* Liam and Riley *^*^*^*

“My Love?”  

“Yes Dear?”  

“You don’t have to cut up my food for me.”  

Riley had absentmindedly cut up Liam’s chicken into very small child bite size pieces. She had also ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead.

“Oh!  I didn’t even realize.”

Liam smiled at her, running his fingers through his hair.  “We’ve been parents for so long, it’s been a long time since you and I have been truly alone.”  

“You know what I want to do after dinner?” Riley inquired.

Liam raised his eyebrow with an intrigued smirk.  

“I think I might have an idea of exactly what you want to do.”  

Liam and Riley went to sleep after dinner.  Both stretched out in the bed.  Both had covers, and no kids arms, legs, feet, or hair  in their face.

Every night was like that Liam and Riley got the most sleep they had, had in years…. Well after other adult activities. Liam had even turned off his alarm living in the moment with Riley.

*^*^* Baby Beaumont Bash *^*^*^*

Taylor was feeding the girls when she heard loud thumping music. Taylor could hear jingling. Taylor glanced up, seeing the chandelier above her head was thumping to the beat of the music. Thank goodness the twins were used to Maxwell's antics, and Lily and Violet were sleeping right through it. She put Violet back in the crib and walked down the hall. The closer she got to the east wing ballroom the music got louder.

Taylor pulled the doors open to the ballroom, smoke bubbled down the hall.

There were multi colored blinking lights, a disco ball spinning from the ceiling and a snack table full of candy, sweets and soda.

Maxwell had a DJ station set up  playing a song on an endless loop, bobbing his head to the music with his headphones on.

And Riley's kids hopped up on kiddie cocaine (aka sugar) dancing and flailing around in what Taylor could only think to describe as a kiddie rave.

"Is that….. a trap remix of baby shark?"

"Heck yeah it is."

And the kids were loving it.

Maxwell let the music keep playing and he had a bottle of champagne in one hand calling Ellie and Adam over to him. He had a sword in his right.

"Adam you hold the bottle."

"You are not giving them champagne Maxwell! They're children!"

"I'm shocked at you Softie. What kind of Uncle do you think I am? It's just sparkling apple cider. Okay Ellie, you get the sword because you're the oldest. And what you want to do is slice just like I'm showing you. Oh, and don't kill your brother, that would be bad."

"I don't think Daddy would let us do this Uncle Maxwell." Ellie said wearily.

"Heck no he wouldn't.  Well not with Maxwell teaching you. If anyone is going to teach the crown princess to slice anything while someone else is holding it, it's going to be me."

Olivia appeared walking out of the shadows of an alcove.

"Have you been here the whole week?"

"Of course! You know Liam and Riley. And these kids are never going to fall asleep, if we don't have them dance the sugar out."

"I've got just the thing.”

 Max cranked up the music.

*^*^*^*^* Liam and Riley *^*^*^*^*

"Liam I miss them."

"We'll be home to see them by noon tomorrow."

"Liam I know you miss them too, log into Crown Cam, so we can see them."

Riley sat next to Liam as he logged into Crown Cam.

As they went to each room they noticed none of the children were in their beds.

"It's past their bedtime."

"Did you really think Max and Taylor would get all kids to bed on time?"

"No but…."

They clicked on each room, until they got to the ballroom on the east wing.

Both gasped at the scene. Liam clicked the button enabling the cameras to pick up sound in the room.

Both looked at each other, seeing their kids wildly dancing and flailing about. Libby was excitedly jumping up and down with a glow stick while Olivia sang on stage.

"Is Olivia really singing and rapping to Let It Go?!?"

Olivia's Rap

Liam nodded, watching the scene for a few more moments before slowly closing his laptop.

"I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

*^*^*^*^*^* kiddie rave *^*^*^*^*

Taylor danced with the kids while Max continued at his DJ station.

"Olivia can flow, can you believe it Max?!?"

"OLIVIA!!!!! LANGUAGE!!!!!!! THEY'RE CHILDREN!!!!" Maxwell screamed.

"Are you serious with me right now?!? Language?"

Olivia rolled her eyes in complete annoyance.

"Of all the things you've done, LANGUAGE is your hard stop? You gave the crown princess a SWORD to slice a bottle out of her younger brother's hands, and instructed her not to kill him. That's entirely okay, but CURSING is where you draw the line in the sand? Seriously Maxwell?"

Both Taylor and Olivia glared at Maxwell for a few moments in confusion.

"Liv keep going!!! We have to tire them out!!!"

Olivia resumed her rap battle….with herself.

Within an hour it looked like a crime scene in the ballroom. Children were passed out everywhere.  

Taylor picked up a sleeping Ellie, Olivia, grabbed Adam, and Maxwell carried Jaiden and Liberty upstairs to their beds.  

"They need baths, their faces and hands are dirty with crumbs and sweets."

"We'll give them baths in the morning, before Liam and Riley get back." Maxwell was confident they could get it done.

They didn't. They all slept in instead.

When Liam and Riley arrived back at the palace, they didn't know what to expect.

They saw their kids, all lined up wearing yesterday's clothes, dirty faces, and wild chaotic hair, looking like they had their own kiddie walks of shame.  But each child had a huge smile on their face.

Liam walked up to Ellie.

"Your report my Crown Princess?"

"Daddy! I sliced a bottle top off a bottle while Adam held it."

"And I didn't die!" Adam screamed confidently.

"We had fun!" Jaiden exclaimed.

"Daddy did you know Auntie Liv is a gangsta rapper?" Ellie's voice sounded like she was in complete awe.

"Yes My Princess, we saw."

Olivia turned pale, then she knowingly nodded. "I should have known you two would access Crown Cam."

Riley turned to Maxwell.

"So you threw a Beaumont Bash…. for our children?"  Riley asked.

"Of course, gotta train them up right!! Little Blossom!"

"Sure, they're a little dirty, but at least the palace is still standing, what else would you expect from the Substitute Queen?" Taylor commented with a smirk.

Happy birthday! I hope you enjoyed this!

Tagging the comments

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Angel Wings.”

Setting up for some other stuff really quick, don’t worry I am going to finish the krill arc, I just needed to jump away from it really quick. Hope you enjoy today’s story :)

“I am not willing to take unnecessary risks.”

“We don’t have enough men to cover all that area.”

“We will do what has to be done.”

“With all due respect, Admiral, do you understand how big space is?” There was a silence in the room, twenty or so men and women stood around a large dark table. All around them on the walls light up star maps and ship configurations glowed blue in the dim holographic light. On the table before them a star map had been laid out casting shadows upon the faces of men and women.

Admiral Vir was sitting partially facing admiral Massie who was half standing, his heavy frame leaning palms flat against the table.

The two stared very intensely  at each other, the older man trying to dominate the younger with the sheer intensity of his presence. It was rather unfortunate for him that after two years of almost continual active service in space, Admiral vir was used to being stared down by Adaptids, Starborn, Drev warriors, and --on occasion-- space dragons, so this rather portly man in a funny hat was unlikely to get a rise out of him.

“You better watch your tone, boy.” The man hissed quietly

Admiral Vir looked back at him unblinking, “This is the 41st century Admiral, and that superiority bullshit isn’t going to stack up to experience, so I will watch my tone when you sit down and realize that what you are suggesting, not only puts our entire fleet, and all of the fleets of the GA at risk, but it's also based on outdated military naval strategy from a thousand years ago that does not take into consideration that space is, in fact, three dimensional.”

The men and women about the table shifted awkwardly in their seats, unsure how to proceed.

To some degree superiority DID fly, especially within the Office of Galactic Intelligence, where Admiral Massie was head officer, but out there, among the stars, where Admiral Vir had spent nearly 90% of his career, the ability to question your superiors could be a matter of life and death.

In the end it was Admiral Kelly, a strong political supporter of Admiral Vir, and his long time ally who leaned forward in her seat, “I think Admiral Vir does have a point. He is, after all our resident expert in galactic warfare.” She looked around the table, “I don’t see anyone else here who has been involved in a pitched space battled?”

There was murmuring and the shuffling of feet.

She Adjusted her cup of coffee lightly where it sat on the desk, “In fact the only person here who has ever flown a ship, being me, would have no idea how to go about galactic combat, so Admiral Vir, please proceed.”

Admiral Vir stood and nodded to Kelly before taking his stand at the head of the table.

“As I was saying earlier, putting warp gates too far out near the border of the system is inadvisable and extremely risky. Even if those warp gates were to be accessed through a security code on the ship itself, I wouldn’t trust that someone wouldn’t be able to hack them. Which is why I suggest keeping the warp gates towards the center of the GA system, but not near planets themselves. There are only a few ships galaxy wide that can approach a planet unknown and unseen, those being the major command vessels used with most GA species. All other ships would require access to a warp gate, or be forced to do multiple warps before reaching the system giving viewers enough time to ready for an attack. My suggestion is, instead of trying to protect the entire GA system, we make hub nexuses around the most important sites, planets, colonies, stations, and warp gates. Then we station smaller military vessels around those areas to keep enemies out. If we were trying to cover the entire area, the only people who might be able to show up in time to defend against an entire arriving fleet are myself and a select few others. If that were to happen we might be completely taken out in one fell swoop. No, better to reinforce likely areas of attack, defend and use the warp gates for what really matters, and allow ships like mine to free float and provide support when needed.”

There was silence about the room as the other men and women nodded.

Admiral Massie glowered at him from the other side of the table.

Admiral Vir ignored him.

He played politics, but only so far as not playing was playing. He wasn’t looking to move up in the ranks, and he wasn’t looking to make enemies. Everyone in UNSC command knew and understood that he had only one goal, and that was to keep his people alive and well. While his unsheathed interactions with some of the other Admirals made him unpopular, particularly within the ranks of some of the older generations, it was hard to deny that he did his job well.

Then again he and Admiral Massie had been at each other’s throats since the start of Vir’s command.

Massie was a planetary isolationist and had opposed joining the GA since the beginning, while Admiral Vir was a staunch supporter of intergalactic cooperation and alliance. Admiral Massie was under the impression that Admiral Vir had romanticised the idea of extraterrestrial life to the detriment of earth itself, and Admiral Vir thought Admiral Massie was a pompous jack-off with more interest in his political career than he was in the lives of his men.

Both of them may have been right to a certain degree.

Either way the other admirals, while being somewhere middling on the spectrum, tended to lean towards agreeing with Admiral Vir when it came to discussions about planetary defence. He was, after all, the only one with personal experience in the area, and they didn’t really have time for Massie and his superiority complex.

It was for many of these reasons, that their meeting eventually steered itself towards a discussion on isolationism versus GA involvement.

“It isn’t our job to deal with THEIR problems. We lose trillions of dollars every year to the defence of alien species, and for what? What can they do for us that we cannot do for yourself as a much lower cost.”

“If it weren’t for our intervention, Admiral, the entire GA system would be overrun with Burg, and we would be next.” Admiral Vir cut in gently pounding his fist against the table for emphasis.

“Not if we fortify our own strongholds.” The man continued to argue.

Admiral Vir felt his skin going hot under the collar, but took a deep breath to calm himself, “You forget about the over ten human colonies that exist within GA airspace. This may have been an argument two years ago, but with those colonies in existence as of now, we cannot abandon them for an isolationist principle. Furthermore, we need the cooperation of the GA in order to buy and sell the materials needed to keep the economies of those colonies running. Without them we don’t have the resources, the time or the labor to be isolationists.” He relaxed back into his seat and allowed the other Admirals to jump in with their two cents.

He would have liked to stay quiet and just listen, buthe found he was actually a poor hand at keeping his mouth shut when someone was saying things that could be potentially harmful to the good of humanity.

He was only partially paying attention when a soft voice came in over his shoulder, “Admiral.”

He turned to look, finding a smartly dressed young lieutenant waiting at his side.

“The UN President is almost done with her address, and you’re up next.”

He nodded and took to his feet quietly excusing himself from the table as he followed her down the hallway. The automated catwalk whirred to life, and the two of them stood next to each other as they were carried off down the long hallway. On either side of them rain slashed against the windows in great sheets. The sky overhead was dark and overcast,and the green of the lawn was soaked in great frothing puddles.

He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out his note cars glancing them over once more before putting them back in his pocket.

At the end of the catwalk two marines were waiting for him.

Ramirez grinned at him and Maverick raised an eyebrow as he stepped off the catwalk, “That’s a lovely expression.:” Maverick commented, “Are the Admirals not playing nice.”

He snorted slightly, “Most of them, but there are a few who just don’t seem to understand how space works, but I guess thant can be expected when you spend your entire career behind a desk.”

The two Marines nodded and fell into step beside him as he made his way towards the outer lawn where the press conferences were being held. A massive black tent had been erected just outside on the lawn, and the sky overhead was soon to grow dark. In the distance he could see the glowing neon of advertising signs hovering over the highway. Those same bright neon lights lit up the tent itself, and projected inflated pictures of the UN President onto the walls as she spoke.

Secret Service agents milled about on the lawn in the rain their jackets soaked and spitting water in a glistening halo of white. Even from here he could see the little strips of clear white tubing that marked their earpieces.

“A shit day to give an address.” He muttered as he was led towards the back entrance, taking a seat by the door as they waited for the president to finish. Rain continued to drum loudly on the tent and the windows at his side. The door was slightly cracked open, so he could just hear the sound of her voice over the pouring rain.

Off on the other side of the room Maverick was watching the address on her implant through her eyes were glazed with boredom.

Ramirez didn’t even pretend to pay attention and was, instead playing holographic paddle ball on his device.

Admiral Vir smiled a little and shook his head at the antics of some of his favorite marines before pulling out his notecards again and giving them a once over. This was becoming more common as his position became more and more political. When he was younger he would have balked at the idea of getting involved in politics, but somehow he had found himself to be the lynchpin holding intergalactic relations together, which turned out to be a very political position to have.

As it seemed his enthusiasm for joining the GA was not shared by everyone, and if if wasn’t for his popularity, and ability to hold their enemies at bay, talks and interaction with the GA might not have gone nearly as far as they had. The thought that he might be the only thing holding intergalactic relations together was nauseating. He was sure that wasn’t entirely the case, by now people understood that in order to have colonies, they had to have cooperation, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t an important part of all this.

It was his fault after all, and he would probably be blamed if things went south.

Outside cheering rose up, and he lifted his head and stood as the UN president was ushered back inside on a wave of applause.

Most of the secret service agents went with her, but security still stayed behind as he stepped past her and up to the lectern. WHen he had said tent earlier, he had not fully grasped the size of the place. It might as well have been an indoor auditorium with places to sit at the back and large projection screens.

A dim blue light fell over him from the side, and he tried not to look at how own awkward figure as he appeared on screen. Cameras flashed below him as reporters vied for the front seat. He set his notecards on the lectern  and began to speak.

His heart hammered and his leg wobbled nervously, but that was common for him these days.

He was a decent public speaker, or was becoming proficient, but that still didn’t stop his nerves.

“The GA has asked me to take the time and announce that they have begun peace talks with the Lumin and the alien species known as the Mikes, who contacted us through long distance laser transmission just last week. The conferences will be held on the GA hub, and life updates will be broadcast to the GA website for the duration of those talks. As someone who has been active on the intergalactic stage since the beginning, I urge you all to-” His eyes drifted over the crowd as he continued with his speech, discussing the importance of voting for their representatives as a new election period was coming up. He stressed also the importance of a couple of economic bills which might strengthen their political report with the Tesraki. He had practiced this speech hundreds of times, and so the words flowed from his mouth with no real issue as he stared down into the crowd. He scanned his eyes over their faces, some of them smiling, some of them concentrated, and others downright annoyed with the words coming from his mouth.

He would have estimated that the ratio of pleased to displeased was three to one, though that percentage was still pretty high 33.3% wasn’t nothing.

He continued to scan the crowd eyes trailing up and towards the center of the crowd where a strange sort of commotion had started. The people parted, and as they did it was like watching a dog run through a field of grass where the stocks began to bend sideways under their weight.

His eyes tracked down to the source of the disruption even as he was speaking.

And found a figure dressed in a heavy black raincoat, face covered.

His voice was just beginning to trail off as the man or woman lifted their head and raised their arm.

Water dripped from the ceramic barrel, and the screaming began just as a loud CRACK erupted in the room.

And then he was plowed into the ground by what felt to be a speeding freight train. THe wind was knocked out of him as he landed on his back. His ears erupted into squealing static which drowned out the sound of secret service men running into the crowd and people screaming. The muzzle flash had left spots in his vision.

Was he hit?

He gasped for air unable to breath for two horrible seconds as the breath came flooding back to him. When his hearing came back the chaos was almost deafening enough to leave his ears ringing again.

A figure knelt in front of him.

Someone else Dived to his side as security flooded onto the stage with them.

Maverick grabbed his shoulder, “Are you hit.”

He looked down at himself, and his pristine grey uniform looking for a spot of red.

He ran his hands over his body, “I…. I don’t think so.” But if the bullet hadn’t thrown him to the ground than what….

He looked up to see Ramirez still kneeling in front of him. He must have seen it coming and tackled Adam to the ground before the shot was fired.

But something…. Something was wrong.

Adam crawled into a kneeling position and grabbed Ramirez by the shoulders. The other man hadn’t moved.’

Frantically he began to look Ramirez over, “Ramirez! Are you hit?”

The other man raised his head and his eyes were glassy, “I….I don’t know.”

The crowd had tightened around them, and he waved security off as he looked his friend over. As he scooted forward, grabbing Ramirez by the back of his uniform, he felt something wet and sticky against his hand.

He drew back…. Only to find his hand drenched in blood.

“SHIT! SOMEONE GET A DOCTOR!”

Ramirez swayed, and Adam caught him around the shoulders gently lowering him to the ground, “Woah, just, relax alright, you’re going to be ok. HE’S BEEN SHOT!”

Ramirez grunted still staring glassily into space.

“Help me roll him.: his voice was tight and strangled, as Maverick grabbed Ramirez by the shoulder and rolled him into his side. Adam could see the blood now, a large stain on his lower mid back.

He pulled up the shirt just to see the bullet hole oozing dark red, already smearing over the other man’s tanned skin, “Shit, shit, shit, Ramirez….. ANGEL!”

Angel grunted, “If you wanted my shirt off, you could have just asked nicely.”

“Is he going into shock?”

“I dont know I’m not a fucking doctor. Just keep him awake. Keep him talking!”

Adam ripped off his uniform jacket, wadding it into a tight ball which he pressed against the oozing wound. Maverick had pulled off her jacket and rolled it under Ramirez’s head. He groaned in pain as Adam applied pressure.

“It's alright, buddy, you're going to be alright, just hang in there.”

“That looks like it went through his kidney.” Maverick muttered.

“Shut up and keep him talking!”

Maverick nodded and patted Angel on the cheek, growing annoyed he wasn’t responding and then lightly slapping him. His eyes fluttered open, “Ow.”

“Stay awake damn it.”

“Bossy.” Angel muttered.

Just then a crack medical team burst through the line shooing everyone out of their way as they did. Adam backed up hands out speared with blood and as he let the professionals take over.

He listened to them talk, heard words coming out of their mouths but didn’t understand what they were saying. He was grabbed by the shoulder and urged to go inside where it was safe, but he shook them off vision fixed on his friend lolling helplessly on the ground, covered in blood.

The men and women removed  his bloodied uniform jacket and pulled a blue cylinder from somewhere. It was shoved into the wound and a button was depressed. There was a sharp hissing noise and Angel groaned in pain, though when they withdrew the cylinder he was no longer bleeding.

Adam was dragged back as men rushed forward with a stretcher transferring his injured friend onto it and hurriedly dragging him away. Adam was waylaid by the security detail that dragged him into a safe room as everyone tried to figure out what had happened.

Angel’s blood began to dry on his hands.

The shooter hadn’t gotten far, and when detained it had been pretty clear that that bullet wasn’t just meant for the marine.

It had been meant for Adam himself.

Even though he knew that was likely the truth, that revelation still came to him as a shock, and his skin grew clammy and cold with the realization.

Angel had saved his life, and taken the bullet that was meant for him.

***

This realization still haunted him hours later as he sat in the waiting room at Mercy Core Hospital heavily guarded by a crack SWAT team and a small military garrison. He stared down at his hands, at the blood that had turned brown and was now flaking off in his hands and onto the waiting room floor. Blood stained the white shirt he wore underneath, and his tie hung loose and undone around his shoulders.

The commotion of footsteps out the door and he lifted his head towards the voices. He tried to understand what they were saying but, somehow, couldn’t. He chalked it up to his brain just not functioning correctly until the door burst inward and a short dark-haired woman burst into the room followed by a grey haired older woman, and a young girl.

They looked too much like Angel to be anyone but his family, and as they walked in Adam stood sharply nearly knocking his chair over in his haste. He realized now why he couldn't’ understand them before, they were speaking Spanish.

The middling woman’s eyes fell on him instantly and she rushed forward grabbing him by the wrists, “What, what happened, what do you know, is my son ok.”

He hadn’t truly grasped what had happened until just now, and fought hard to bite back the tears as he gave her the details, “He was shot, the doctors had to bring him into surgery about an hour ago…” Her eyes went wide with horror and shock, his throat squeezed tight causing his voice to rise in pitch though he tried to fight it down.

“He...he has the best medical care you could ask for…. Our ship doctor arrived…. Arrived on scene thirty minutes ago…. He… hes the best surgeon in the-galaxy.” He could barely speak now, his throat thick as if it was stuffed with cotton.

She put her hands over her mouth and turned in a distressed circle.

His eyes fell on the older grey haired woman and her eyes pierced into him like she could read his sole like a book.

He had heard enough stories about this woman to know who she was immediately.

Angel’s Abuela, the family matriarch.

Adam shrunk under the intensity of her gaze

Mother and, what must have been Angel’s younger sister were sitting together hugging each other for comfort. Adam stood awkwardly hands at his sides not wanting to intrude on grief that was…. Not his own, grief that was, in fact, caused by him.

It was his fault.

Angel had taken that bullet for him.

He should have been in that operating room. He bit the inside of his cheek took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears to absorb back into his eye.

The older woman was still watching him, and as he watched she walked over, and touched his arm gently, “What happened.” He opened his mouth to say he already told her but the expression she gave him made it pretty clear he had not given enough details, “I was giving an address to the crowd just outside UNSC headquarters. I was about halfway through when there was a disturbance in the crowd. I saw someone pull a gun, and then Angel tackled me to the floor just as it fired. We didn’t know who had been hit at first but, he…. It looked like it got him in the lower mid back….. I I tried to stop the bleeding but I… and then the paramedics came…. And I…. I…. I’m so sorry.” his voice hitched but he bit it back with gargantuan effort, “It should be me in there not him.”

He turned to look down at his feet 

But then the hand came and touched his arm again, “It wasn’t your fault, boy. That’s just our Angel.”

And with those words he couldn’t fight it back, and warm hot tears began spilling down his face and onto his shirt. His vision blurred and he could barely see, but he felt arms wrap around him patting him on the back as the old woman’s voice came softly, “There there, he’s going to be alright, our Angel is strong. He’s going to be ok.”

He didn’t try to pull away from the old woman.

Her arms were warm and comforting, and he desperately wanted to believe her.

.

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (ch. 1)

tw: Like one swear word

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | next

ch. 1: The Return (Present)

Bokuto stepped off of the bus, eagerly looking around at the familiar sight. He was finally back where he belonged. Of course, he’d visited Tokyo since he'd left, but never for more than a day or two. It had only taken him three years, seven months, and twenty-six days to get back. “Oi, Bokkun!” Bokuto turned, facing the setter. “Where ya headed?”

“Just some places here and there.” With that, he spun on his heel and darted away.

“That was fast.” Meian commented, getting off the bus only to see his team-mate’s back. He clapped, addressing the rest of the team, “get your bags, we’re going to go check into the hotel. You’re all free until warm-ups at 3!” 

A few streets away, Bokuto spied the familiar yellow sign of his favorite bakery. His heart warmed as he stepped in, closing his eyes as the nostalgic scent of bread filled him. He’d visited other bakeries, seen new things, but nothing beat nostalgia. Bokuto couldn’t remember the first time he had been there, but he always remembered visiting here with Akaashi and (Name) on their free days. Quickly, he placed an order for some data andagi, anpan, and melonpan. A child’s cry distracted him as he stepped away from the counter, pocketing his wallet. Golden eyes widened at the sight. “Kuroo?” 

The male was currently bent over, wiping chocolate off a child’s face. At the sound of his name, he looked up to make eye-contact with the ace. “Bokuto?” As he stood up, Bokuto made his way over to him. “Oh wow, you’re back!” Kuroo greeted him, throwing an arm around the professional volleyball player and pulling him into his side, the other hand clasped onto the child’s shoulder.

Bokuto pulled away, punching the former middle blocker in the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me you had a kid!” He bent down, “hi! I’m Bokuto.” 

The child waved with pudgy hands, fingers outreached in a grabbing motion towards Bokuto’s hair as his golden eyes glowed. “Ah, sorry, he must be interested in your hair.” Kuroo’s hyena laugh filled the bakery. “He always messes with Kenma’s hair whenever we visit him, isn’t that right, little one?” Bokuto smiled, leaning his head down more so that the child could run his fingers through it. “Introduce yourself, just like how Mom taught you.”

“I’m Kuroo Hikori!” Hikori’s eyes squinted as a wide smile took up his features. A bit of chocolate was still smeared in the corner of his mouth.

“He’s a handsome little rascal,” Bokuto laughed, standing back up to ruffle Hikori’s (h/c) hair. “How old is he?”

“He definitely takes after his mom.  He’s three, he’ll be four in a few weeks.” Kuroo’s eyes flickered for a moment before his face became more serious, hoisting Hikori onto his hip. “I didn’t know you were back in Tokyo.”

Bokuto nodded aggressively, hair flowing with the movement. “We have a game today! I’ll be back for a month or so.” Bokuto’s order was called. “Say, have you seen—” Bokuto was interrupted by a ringing phone.

“Oh shoot, I gotta go! Hikori has a doctor’s appointment and I’m running late.” With an apologetic smile, Kuroo picked up his bag of pastries and headed out the door. A final wave from both Kuroos before he disappeared from sight. Bokuto sighed. He hadn’t talked to her in years. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. There was nothing more that he wanted than to be with her. No...that was a lie. He had chosen volleyball over her. Bokuto let out an elongated sigh. His order was called again, and he picked it up, heading back to the hotel.

****

“Why does Bokkun look so depressed?” Atsumu bounced the volleyball, glancing at the wing-spiker. Hinata shrugged, stretching. Sakusa glanced over before he continued his own stretches. Bokuto’s hair was drooping, shoulders hunched over as he half-heartedly bit into a bun. 

“Bokuto! You better not be eating that right now, we’re supposed to be warming up,” Meian scowled as he stood in front of the wing-spiker. Bokuto just made a depressed noise as he shoved the rest of the bun into his mouth. Meian took a seat beside him, grabbing the rest of the pastries and putting it outside his reach. “What’s going on?” 

“Sometimes I wonder if going pro was worth it.” Bokuto muttered, looking down at his hands. Calluses decorated them, representing the years of hard work he’s put into it.

“You love volleyball right?” A half-hearted grunt. “Why are you feeling this way?”

Bokuto sighed, eyes meeting his captain’s. “I left the love of my life to play volleyball.”

“(Name)?” Hinata came over now, continuing his stretches in front of the bench. Another distressed noise. “Are you guys still together?” 

Bokuto’s face flushed as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I ghosted her after the first month of training.” 

“Why would you do that?” Sakusa came over, still standing a bit far from the group. Bokuto just shrugged.

“I was just always so busy with my training that it got harder and harder to keep in contact so I just...stopped trying.” 

“I heard that she’s still in Tokyo! Maybe you can meet up with her sometime,” Hinata offered. 

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Bokuto whispered, “It’s been so long now.”  

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about that.” Meian clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Win the match today and get your girl back. We have a month break after this match so you can spend time here anyways.” He pushed Bokuto off the bench. “Go do your stretching, and don’t text her until we finish this match.” With a deep sigh, Bokuto went through the motions. Hinata crouched in front of him as Bokuto stretched.

“(Name) always loved you,” Hinata reminded the ace. “Even before you guys got together. Everyone could tell. If it’s still the same, then she’ll give you a second chance.” With that, Hinata ran off to bother Atsumu. 

“(Nickname), (Nickname), (Nickname)!” Bokuto turned, eyes sparkling as he waved to the manager. She was standing beside the Fukurodani managers, chatting. At his voice, she turned to him, sending him a little wave. “Did you see that?” He bounced, pointing at the ball on the other side.

“Nice kill!” (Name) cheered, her hands cupping her mouth so that her voice carried.

“Bokuto-san, we’re in the middle of the game.”

“Oh right!” Bokuto waved again at the managers. “Watch this!”

“I’ll block you out,” Kuroo smirked, facing Bokuto across the net. It was the annual summer training camp during their third year with Nekoma and Fukurodani facing each other. 

“Akaashi! Give me another one,” Bokuto called over his shoulder, flexing his shoulders as gold eyes met hazel. 

After they won, he scampered over to the girl, scooping her into his arms as he swung her around. (Name) dropped her clipboard in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck. “Kou!” She squealed, drawing the attention of the other teams. Akaashi rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his face. Konoha smirked, nudging their team-mates as they drank their water and wiped their sweat off. The Nekoma boys had left to do their penalty run, with Kuroo throwing the couple one last glance before leading them out.

“Why doesn’t she come to more of our games?” Konoha whispered to Akaashi.

“Well, she is the manager of a different team,” Akaashi pointed out as they watched the pair of friends. Bokuto had placed her down with her back against his chest; his arms were tightly wound around her waist. Her hands rested on top of his, their fingers intertwined. Bokuto’s face nuzzled into her neck causing redness to creep up on both of their faces and necks. The pair chatted with the Fukurodani managers as they all complimented and encouraged him. 

“Is Bokuto-san dating (Name)-san?” Hinata crept over to the group, looking between Akaashi and the two.

“No, they’re just really close friends,” Akaashi corrected, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Oh really? They look so in love.” Hinata commented, brown eyes focused on the ace. Bokuto’s head was thrown back in laughter. One of her hands crept up to pat his face as she talked to Kaori. “He’s always looking for her and she’s always watching him, even when Nekoma’s playing the other teams.” 

Konoha snickered. “Yeah, and she always gives him extra food at meals. They might as well be dating.” 

“It’s been like that for years, if I recall correctly,” Akaashi pointed out. “They’ll get there,” He mused as he played with his fingers. “At their own pace.” 

****

It was a hard-earned win. Sweat dripped down all of their foreheads as they made their way into the locker room. “Let’s go get some yakiniku!” Sakusa shuddered at the prospect of getting more filthy but agreed.

Bokuto’s eyes sparkled. “I know a great place!” After the team had showered and changed, they took the bus to the restaurant. The team made their way inside, having called for a table in advance. Bokuto stood in front of it, remembering the last time he had been there. 

“Bokuto-san, you have to eat.” Akaashi sat directly in front of the ace, who had his head on the table. It had taken Konoha and Yukie to drag their downtrodden captain into the restaurant and forcibly seat him. Akaashi had hoped that the prospect of yakiniku - Bokuto’s favorite food - would be enough to bring him out of his emo-mode, but it was easily apparent that it wasn’t. He pinched his nose, pulling out his phone as he called for reinforcements. Akaashi glanced at the other phone he held while he listened to the phone ringing. On the screen stared back a photo of (Name) and Bokuto. They were both wearing yukatas and holding up matching candy apples. In her arms was a plush owl. Wide smiles breached their faces. 

“Hello (Name)-san, I’m sorry to bother you. Are you busy right now?”

“I just finished my exam, what’s up?” 

Akaashi sighed, eyeing his captain. “We lost the match earlier.”

“I see. How’s Kou?”

“Do you mind stopping by?” 

She hummed, walking off-campus. “Of course. Is it at the usual?”

“Yes. Thank you so much (Name)-san.” 

“I’ll see you soon, Akaashi. Just keep taking care of him for me, okay?” 

“(Name)-san will be here soon,” Akaashi whispered to Yukie, slipping his phone back into his bag. “Bokuto-san, we’re going to order now. I’ll get you your favorite, okay?” Bokuto let out a half-hearted sigh, nodding while letting his face press harder into the table. The team eyed each other. Just as the food arrived, the door opened to reveal (Name). Akaashi let out a sigh of relief, standing up and waving her over. “(Name)-san!” 

At the sound of her name, Bokuto’s head jerked up, turning to the girl. “(Nickname)! What are you doing here?” 

“Hey Kou,” she sent him a soft smile, sliding into the seat besides him. She grabbed one of his hands. “So what is this I hear about you not wanting to eat?” 

Bokuto buried his face into her shoulder, feeling her hand rub her back. “I don’t wanna.”

“But it’s yakiniku, your favorite,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his head. “C’mon Kou, the sooner you eat, the sooner your muscles can repair themselves and you can get back to practicing if that’s what you want.” Her eyes met Akaashi, who sent her a curt nod. “You’re the best ace out there, Kou. One point, one game, won’t change that.” 

Bokuto raised his head, eyes glistening. “You’re right.” He beamed at his team-mates. “Let’s eat!” He eagerly loaded his plate, taking a bite out of the meat. Bokuto swallowed, looking at the girl. “Thanks for coming.”

(Name) laughed softly, gently pushing his hair away from his face. “Sorry I missed the match, but you know I’ll always be here for you no matter what. I really care about you.”

With a deep sigh, he wandered in only to hear that all-too familiar laugh. His head swung around, spotting Kuroo seated at a table along with Hikori. “Hey Kuroo! Fancy seeing you again.” Bokuto made his way over, elbowing Kuroo in the shoulder. Kuroo’s eyes widened. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. 

“Well hello to you too, you loud owl.” 

Bokuto turned his attention to Hikori, a bright smile on his face. “Hello again Hikori! What a coincidence to see you here again.” Hikori waved to the other male.

“Yes, a coincidence,” he heard Kuroo whisper under his breath. 

“You never mentioned who your wife was, is she here? I wanna meet the woman who stole your heart,” Bokuto bounced eagerly. A loud noise distracted the owl as the pair both turned to the MSBY table. His eyes widened, jaw dropping. Standing there being embraced by Hinata was her. Atsumu was standing beside them. Forgetting about the conversation he was having, his feet were drawn to her. “(Name)?” At the sound of his voice, she froze, looking over at him.

“Koutarou!” Hinata let her go at this point, taking a step back to stand with Atsumu. Atsumu looked slightly suspicious, whereas the orange-headed male quivered with excitement. Bokuto stopped a few paces from her, hands outstretched in a hug before he clasped them together and brought them to his chest.

“What...what are you doing here?” 

A soft smile made its way onto her face. “I’m just getting dinner with Tetsu.”

“Tetsu?” The name felt foreign, his mouth drying at it. “Are you guys…” A shy nod as she tucked her hair behind her ear. The glitter of gold on her finger caught his eyes.

“The guys were just telling me about the match. Sounds like you’re killing it, Kou.” She waved at Kuroo, holding a finger up. Kuroo returned the wave, waiting patiently at the door. “Anyways, I have to go. It was nice seeing you again Hinata-kun, Atsumu-kun! Feel free to stop by the clinic for some adjustments! Have fun.” She hugged Bokuto, the male freezing at her touch. “I’ll see you later, Kou.” With that, she took her leave.

Atsumu snorts, sitting down. “Isn’t that the (Name) you used to date?” Bokuto slowly slid into a seat, nodding slightly as his legs bounced anxiously.

A low whistle. “Damn, she ditched ya for yer best friend? How cold.” At that, Bokuto shot up and out of the restaurant.

“(Name)!” 

At this point, she was already down the street, holding hands with Kuroo. She glanced over her shoulder and whispered something to Kuroo, pressing soft lips to his cheek. Kuroo sighed, nodding as he relinquished his grip on his wife. “What’s up?” 

“I didn’t know you and Kuroo started seeing each other.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Well, after being ghosted for awhile, I got tired of waiting. I didn’t see a reason to tell you.” He gulped, face darkening as the light in his eyes dimmed. “I figured you were off doing bigger and better things, and I wanted you to have your freedom to do so.” A soft smile hid the water that was collecting in her eyes. 

“I’m..I’m sorry.” She waved it off. Her mouth opened, as if to say more, only to be interrupted with the cry of her child. With a hastily muttered goodbye, she jogged back to rejoin Kuroo and Hikori. Hikori’s hands reached out to you, pouting and calling ‘Mama’ until she scooped him up. Kuroo wrapped an arm around her waist, kissing her forehead as they walked off together. Bokuto retreated back into the restaurant, deflating. 

Atsumu waved a phone in his face. “Looks like they’ve been together for awhile.” The setter had pulled up her Instagram page. Bokuto pushed the phone away, grumbling. Under different circumstances, Atsumu would’ve teased Bokuto, but upon seeing how broken the wing-spiker was, he bit his tongue and the team half-heartedly enjoyed their celebratory dinner. After a few hours and several pitchers of beer later, Bokuto was being supported by Meian and Atsumu. “Ya didn’t hafta get shit-faced,” the setter scowled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as they dropped Bokuto unceremoniously onto his hotel bed.

Bokuto groaned, pulling his phone out to send one final text before his eyes shuttered close, phone still in hand. “Can we talk?” 

Across the city, a lock-screen lit up. Under the text notification, a photo of Kuroo, Hikori, and (Name) lit up. Kuroo had Hikori in his lap, taking a selfie as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Kuroo’s lips were pressed to her cheek.

A/N: Hikori means ‘abundant joy’! This story will feature a lot of flashbacks and time-skips. If you’re confused, please let me know! Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora @lastminaddition 

Please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞

[whimperwoods]

Oswin - The Archdevil

Part 2 of a new series about Oswin Greystone, wizard con man and deeply unfortunate man.

So anyway, yeah, the captain of the guard wants a pet wizard. Things are not looking great for poor Oswin. They’re not looking great in his own series, now, because this is long enough to need a readmore. Let me know if you want to be on a taglist and I’ll start one. I’m not sure how much of this there will be, but he and his creepy captain really grabbed my imagination, so certainly there will be some more after this.

Continuation of this post.

tw: abuse, tw: abuse of authority, tw: fantasy police brutality (though he’s kind of stopped pretending to be acting as a cop at this point), tw: fantasy devil worship, tw: pet whump (working toward it anyway), tw: devil contracts

*****

Oswin’s legs couldn’t hold him, but the whip that had nearly killed him was back in the guard captain’s hand, so he kept dragging himself along beside him, crawling awkwardly forward on his good hand and his knees and nearly tangling himself up in the robes that, with the back sliced open, hung down in his way, barely attached to him anymore.

At the bottom of the steep, winding staircase, Oswin’s limbs were already quaking, and he let out a soft whimper that made his throat ache.

The captain moved around him and squatted down in front of his head, cupping his face in one hand. “First choice, pet. You’re going up two flights of stairs, up to my chambers over the main office. You may crawl, you may be dragged, or you may be carried. I spent too much on that healing potion to hope for dragging, but you’ll need to be a very good boy if I carry you.”

Oswin’s brain couldn’t catch up. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. This wasn’t how people talked. It wasn’t how people were. Except - wasn’t it? He’d been in the courts of petty, tyrannical lords before, on occasion. He’d watched men who could get away with it pinch serving women and belittle servants and - and perhaps that was what this man thought was happening. Perhaps he thought Oswin a servant, or likely to become one. And without Oswin’s books available to him, maybe he was right.

Oswin wanted to look down, to avert his eyes, but his time when he tried, the captain kept a steel grip on his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. They were dark, a brown that tended toward gray, without any of the warmth of his own, and hard as stones. He swallowed heavily, the pain in his throat insignificant next to the pain still raging across his back, but still easily made worse.

It had been hard enough getting himself to the foot of the stairs, and he couldn’t imagine breathing or moving would be easier on an incline.

“I can be a good boy, Master,” he whispered.

The captain smiled. “Clever. I’ll have to keep my eye on that. But then, I knew you would be. Come on, put your arms around my neck.”

Oswin knew he was a little underfed, but the captain picked him up like it was nothing. The pressure of the captain’s arm across his ruined back felt white-hot, and he cried out hoarsely as he wrapped his arms around the captain’s neck and tried to hold himself up, away from the contact. He wasn’t strong enough, and had to settle back into his new master’s grip, his eyes filling with tears and his breath growing ragged again.

“That doesn’t sound like being a good boy,” the captain whispered into his ear, a low half-growl, “That sounds like complaining when you’re being done a favor.”

Oswin forced himself to breathe through the pain, to catch his breath, to talk. His voice came out strained, and barely above a whisper. “No, Master, please! I’m grateful! I just -” he grunted in pain, in spite of himself, “I just needed to adjust but now I can be - I can be fully grateful, Master, please.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever begged so much in one day, but this time it seemed to work, or at least, his master didn’t drop him down the stairs. Instead, the captain started climbing, not winded no the stairs even carrying Oswin’s weight. Oswin shivered in the man’s arms. He’d hoped during his whipping, before his mind fully abandoned him, that the beating would stop when the captain grew tired, but he was certain now that that hadn’t been the case.

He’d been in dangerous spots before, but this time - this time he couldn’t afford the sob that threatened to rise up in his throat, so he buried his face in the side of the captain’s neck, clinging more tightly so that the man wouldn’t think he had any thought of trying to get away.

The captain’s pleased little hum made the pressure behind Oswin’s eyes spike, but he couldn’t afford the tears, so he focused instead on his breathing, on keeping it steady, on leaning into the captain’s grip so as not to fall, and then they were at the top of the stairs and his master was still carrying him, his footsteps steady as he walked through a small receiving room, a smaller office, which was little more than a closet with a desk in it, and into a sparsely-decorated bedroom.

The captain set Oswin down on the floor, just inside the door, and Oswin watched as he pulled an old, soft-looking rug to the side and revealed a set of sigils carved into the floor in circles, which he calmly traced over in chalk, reinforcing them.

Oswin’s skin crawled, and his stomach soured, but he knew he had no hope of making it down the stairs, much less out of the building, without being caught and, presumably, tortured to death.

The captain retrieved a set of fine wax candles, more expensive than Oswin would have expected in a room like this, and Oswin thought, passively, that a quick death might have been worth it, but that wasn’t what he’d been promised.

The captain lit most of the candles and then came toward Oswin, manhandling him into the center of the circle without a word, and then arranging him on his knees, barking a single order: “Kneel.”

Oswin’s hands were bound behind his back, and he hung his head, not sure if he was going for deferential, or just for too pathetic to hurt again. Either way, the effort of staying upright soon took all of his attention, so that he hardly noticed the final candle being lit.

An enormous, winged figure stepped into the room, out of nowhere. He seemed to fill the space entirely, then shrunk down to merely looming, a head and a half taller than the guard captain and clearly strong enough to break either of them in half.

Oswin’s master was beside him, and knelt, too, albeit only on one knee, bowing deeply to the archdevil.

As the captain’s back straightened, the devil said, “Rise. Why do you request an audience, my champion?”

The captain got to his feet, but then bowed again, still standing. “I humbly propose an addendum to my contract, Master.”

Oswin’s mouth dried instantly. Power radiated from the archdevil like nothing he’d ever felt before, and his voice dripped with it. Was this fool really going to try to negotiate with it?

The archdevil laughed. “I already own your soul, child. What else is left to offer?”

The captain gestured toward Oswin. “His, for a start.”

Oswin looked up in surprise, and instantly regretted it. It had been one thing to sneak glances at the archdevil through his eyelashes; it was another to look directly up at him, meeting a pair of terrifying eyes that seemed made entirely of fire.

“You think you can make contracts with other people’s souls?”

“I can if you’re willing to agree to my terms - what I want is his soul, but not to keep, of course. I’m happy to cede it back to you the moment he dies. And my original contract stipulated that I was willing to work for you, but not to proselytize. It was a point of contention at the time, if I recall, but I told you I would not be certain enough to promise such a thing, outside myself, for some years. It has been ‘some years,’ Master, and I’m happy to find you new followers, provided that it does not jeopardize the other work I do for you.”

“And your interest in his soul?” the devil asked, still looking Oswin in the eye. Oswin found himself paralyzed, unable to look away. Under that devilish gaze, he felt like his chest was being torn apart, his insides pulled out and studied, even though no one was touching him.

“I’ve always wanted a pet wizard,” the captain said casually, “Call it professional curiosity. I know my magic is yours, of course, Master, but I’d like to study those humans who do it on their own - and I’d like to harness it. I won’t be learning myself, of course. I know where my skills lie, and the purpose you’d have me put them to. But I don’t like the idea of humans with power, and I want this one under my thumb, where I can learn to tear those apart.”

Oswin was shaking, the wounds across his back pulsing again, agonizing, while the devil’s eyes continued to rove over his front. He felt like a bug, pinned to a scientist’s paper, but the paper was burning, too, acidic and deadly.

“And why this one?” The devil’s eyes suddenly left him, turning their full force on the captain, and Oswin sagged forward, gasping for breath.

“This one’s a very interesting case,” the captain said. “No respect for a contract, which I’m hoping to beat out of him, but for once I had a wizard in my sights who wasn’t blatantly dangerous, and I thought I’d make good on the opportunity. He’s been selling counterfeit spell scrolls, and then disappearing to ply his trade somewhere else in town before his victims actually try to read or copy the damned things. The thing is, we know he’s strong enough that he could make the real thing, were he properly - motivated. He’s useful, but in need of - management.”

The archdevil hummed thoughtfully, and the captain added, “In our attempts to capture him, he displayed quite a bit of power and - spunk. I know better than to think I could control him without your direct assistance, my lord. But I hope to use him in your service.” He bowed again, more quickly this time.

The archdevil stepped forward into the circle, which Oswin had really been hoping he couldn’t do, and reached down, raising Oswin’s chin to make him look into those flaming eyes again, and nearly lifting him off the ground by the head as he did it.

“And I suppose it doesn’t hurt that he’s a pretty little thing, hmm?” the devil asked, his flame eyes flicking quickly to the captain and back.

The man chuckled. “No, my lord. It does not. Nor does it hurt that he’s already proven he breaks beautifully. You should have heard him begging earlier.”

“We will negotiate the details without him,” the archdevil said imperiously, “It’s simpler that way. And he can agree or refuse.”

Oswin was nearly hyperventilating in the devil’s grip.

“I’m not sure which I think is more interesting,” the devil added casually, before letting go of Oswin’s face and waving his hand in a pattern too quick for even Oswin’s practiced eyes to follow. A blanket of silence fell over him and he could hear nothing, not even his own breathing, for so long that he found himself collapsed inward before the sound returned, bowed low, with his forehead on the floor and his chest and stomach cushioned against his legs, where he could feel the rise and fall of the breaths he couldn’t hear and know that he was still alive.

He realized he was sobbing in dry, heaving gasps only when sound came rushing back to his ears, but he wasn’t sure how long he had been doing it.

“Very well,” the archdevil said, “Lift his head. I want to look him in the eyes again.”

The captain’s hands forced Oswin upward, tilting his head back to make him look up at the looming devil.

“Oswin the wizard,” the archdevil said, power already crackling in his voice in a way that seemed to bind up the air in Oswin’s lungs. “I assume there’s a surname that goes with that.”

“G-greystone, my lord,” Oswin said, the answer tearing out of him in spite of his dry mouth and aching throat, “My father was a mason, but thought to better himself, or at least our family.”

“Hmm, well, now you’ll be in service of a captain of the city guard - and of me. It seems he’ll be getting his wish.”

Oswin shuddered. The archdevil’s voice was oil-smooth, but so, so dangerous. He nodded wordlessly, knowing better than to disagree.

“Should you agree to cosign this addendum with my champion,” the archdevil continued, “You will be bound, body and soul, to his service. Your soul will be mine, to be delivered upon your permanent death. You will be marked as mine, but you will not receive any of my power, nor will you be allowed to use yours outside of your master’s orders.”

The archdevil’s mouth quirked upward into a smile. “I should warn you, wizard, this is an extremely bad deal for you. But my champion assures me that you are a genuine affront to order, and that whether you sign or not, you will be brought to heel. Or you could choose to be tortured to death. But you should know that your master’s contract with me stipulates that if you do not cooperate, he may kill you up to five times and have you returned to his care to try again. I have never seen a man strong enough to withstand being tortured to death a third time, much less a fourth. I’m afraid a bad deal is the only one you’ve got.”

Oswin’s mind swam. He was trapped again, pinned by those eyes, and he was burning, he was sure of it. His mind felt like it was caught in an earthquake, struggling to run to safety with the land bucking underneath him. Just as he took in a breath to speak, the archdevil interrupted him.

“Do not think you can make a deal of your own with me, instead, Oswin Greystone. This one likes a challenge, and he is a useful servant. I don’t make contracts with the desperate. Not worth the work of keeping an eye on them. Break his hold on you, and I will let the consequences be what they will. But try to take your soul back from me and I will destroy you where you stand. I do not have the patience to shepherd one who is reluctant.”

The captain held up a knife. “This agreement will be sealed in blood, or not at all. What do you choose, submission or death?”

The archdevil’s eyes had not left him. Gods, he was burning up. He knew with complete certainty that death, even drawn out, would mean facing this devil again, would mean those flaming eyes burning into him, that oil-slick voice talking to him, that crackling, unbearable power licking at the edges of his own, and he’d just wind up right back here again, waiting to be tortured.

What escaped his lips was a sob, and not an agreement, but the archdevil looked away, making a soft noise of satisfaction. “He chooses submission. Bring the parchment.”