#like if its just one person is it truly a fandom without infecting your friends with the obsession/hj

[thepandalion]

read a really good severence oneshot and went to the authors page only to find my other thing Im recently obsessed with is on that list of fandoms they wrote for

once again my web of fandoms theory wins

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 13:

"It comes and goes like the strength in your bones." 

Cold compress | infection | "I Don't Feel So Good."

Fandom: Avengers

Prompts used: All

So while I ignore most of the MCU after certain events we shant name, I saw this quote and was like, yeah I can't not. So it has nothing to do with the later movies, its its own timelined thing (obv) and based more off fanfictions I like to read (fix its) than anything. So, please take things in stride. It's sort and basically a sick fic.    ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

….

When the world looks at Tony Stark, they see a spoiled rich boy. 

And it's what Tony wants them to see of course. The Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist. Even Iron Man, the Super Hero he created, has so much speculation because he pilots the armor. Like Tony Stark could never truly be a hero… but he'd been there all his life. No matter how many things he creates to better the world and the people who live in it, he will always be… 

But it's fine. Those who took the time to see past everything, who peeled his layers and stayed long enough to witness what he'd never outright say, they knew who Tony was. And while they were few and far between, Tony knew he was lucky to have any at all. 

So being in a complex, surrounded by stubborn idiots who were not quite in that category yet- or ever with how things were going, but Iron Man could have teammates without having true friends, so long as the world got saved in the end- was quite the task for Tony to handle. And today, that meant a bunch of stubborn idiot heroes who refused to admit they were in fact sick. 

Strange and Loki had assured them- and really it was just Tony, everyone else had been focusing fully on staying upright- that they would find the cure to whatever magical mischief their most recent adversary had cast on them. The two had not been spared so to speak, but they hadn't received the brunt of the attack and were ridiculously stubborn- that's gonna be Tonys word of the day, get over it. So with a fiery look of competition passed between them, Loki and Strange went their separate ways to see who could cure them all first, leaving the rest of them to fend for themselves. 

As anyone could guess, in the ever growing list of assumptions about Stark, there was the assumption he was a needy whiny clingy sick person. Where anyone got that he couldn't tell you, he was tactile and often refused any form of contact from people he didn't fully trust. But as it was, the world saw what they wanted, which included the added fact that surely a spoiled rich boy would know next to nothing on how to care for others when they're sick. 

Which. Rude. 

Tony might not have received the care a child should have, but Jarvis and Ana had tried their best where his parents didn't. And despite popular opinions, Tony did in fact care about people. So with a delirious team, Tony ignored the ache in his chest- when did he ever not?- and readied himself for his hardest task yet. 

He turns, finding them all still staring at where the two magicians had been with squinted eyes, and sighs. 

"JARVIS, lockdown as secretly as possible please. I need these guys contained until this is over." He's glad for his earpiece, talking practically under his breath, to keep the gathered heroes from hearing his order. "And some scans would be great, need to know what i'm working with." 

"Of course, sir." 

"You know Cap, I'm just exhausted, can we do our briefing in the living room?" Tony bats his eyes as if the Soldier can actually comprehend it. 

"Uh," his voice is raspy and he coughs like a dying frog, "sure. Living room…" 

It gets everyone moving, however unsteady it is, Tony brushes from one to another for every sway that's a little too far, keeping everyone on their feet until they can crash onto the nearest soft surface. Or the floor as Bruce so elegantly flops. Shaking his head, he makes his way around, almost too easily removing shoes and draping blankets. He's beginning to think this may be easier than he thought-

Bruce sneezes, tints green and grows several sizes, breaking the table behind him, before sniffing and returning to a slightly paler version of himself. 

"Bless you." Steve mutters, arm thrown over his eyes as his open mouth breathing wheezes in and out of his chest. 

Natasha grumbles, burrowed into Hawkeyes side, face ashen and eyes squeezed closed, she shivers and shifts closer to the archer. Clint, to his credit, does not push her away, despite the sweat clinging to him and red tint to his cheeks. 

Thor is completely out, mouth open wide as he snores around a congested nose. He- like his brother and Strange- was better off, but for a guy who'd never had an Earth sickness- if any, Tony wouldn't know- itd be best to watch him too. If Bruce was breaking things, Thor would too no doubt.

"JARVIS, lower the lighting level a bit, and play something quiet on TV, I'm gonna make some soup." He supposed he should just be glad it wasn't every Avenger, but it was going to be a long day.

He rubs at his chest, joints protesting his movements, and clears his throat to avoid coughing. 

He could do this…

"Steve, I swear to all things, if you do not stop I will have Hulk sit on you."

He shifts the bowl of cool water so he can use a finger to push Cap back down on the couch turned bed. The super soldier goes down with little actual resistance, despite the fact he looks like he very much wants to resist. He's had to force most of them to sit still at least once, Natasha was fine so long as she was against someone warm, Clint wouldn't move if Natasha was resting on him, but had tried to fly when she'd curled into Steve. Bruce's brain still had a million tabs open, but he was also a little worried about the Hulk. The Hulk for his part, was miserable too and just wanted to watch TV one way or another so Tony was less worried about him than Bruce despite the broken table he'd had to clean up. And Thor had also tried to fly, but smacked himself in the face with Mjolnir and promptly fallen into a side table to take another nap… hopefully.

Once he's sure Steve is down for awhile longer, he goes back to his task of pressing cold compresses to heated heads. His hands shake more than usual, but like everything else, he ignores it as he dodges a smack from the red head before pressing the cloth to her neck and tucking the blankets in tighter to appease her. 

Task accomplished, he turns to check on the soup when a whimper- high and sudden- hits his ears. He turns- a little too fast, his head spins with the motion- to find Hawkeye sitting up, one hand on his stomach, the other over his mouth, and wide eyes looking up at Tony.

"I don't feel so good." He utters it a second before he's leaning over the edge of the couch bed and puking whatever the archer had eaten today. 

Tony sidesteps the mess to get to the heaving blond, placing a hand on his back and finding the compress to wipe at his face gently.

"It's okay, breathe. You're okay." Cleaning the cloth in the bowl he helps Clint lay back down, Natasha curling into his side again, and sighs in relief as he relaxes. 

He coughs into his elbow until he can't breathe and he worries about either adding to the mess or falling into it. The comm in his ear beeps steadily, sudden enough to get a breath in, and get the spots to stop dancing in his vision. 

"Thanks Jar." 

"I have re-" "I've found-"

"I really don't care who does it, just fix them." Tony waves at the miserably slumbering heroes as he makes his way towards the elevator. He had far too many things to catch up on to stay around for the aftermath of everything. He rubs at his chest as he leans heavily against the wall, waiting for the doors to open. 

"Tony, are you alright?" Strange's voice sounds far away.

"Fine, there's soup if you guys are hungry." His voice croaks a bit, but he knows if he clears it he'll cough. 

"I believe we should use the spell on you as well." Loki's drawl spins around his ears. 

"S'not the spell. I'll be fine. Just comes and goes," he waves his hand like he can wave the problem away, "like the strength in your bones. Iron bends under heat and stuff… whatever dad said." Hes mumbling by the end, not really caring what comes from his mouth or who hears. "Jar… where's the 'vator?" 

"Running slow sir, my apologies." 

"Tony-" 

"Sir you're-!"

"TONY!"

"....infection in his lungs…"

"...the arc reactor…"

"...pneumonia…"

"...need to flush out the cavity…"

"...irritated and swollen, the arc is…"

"...spell…"

Tony's chest feels heavy, his arms tingle, his head aches and eye twitches, there's a dull pain throbbing throughout his body…

So everythings normal.

But then… why doesn't he remember going to bed, and not his bed in the lab but like a bed bed. 

Shit! The team! 

He sits up quick enough to throw his head for a loop, and to startle the bodies surrounding him. He stares with wide eyes at a room full of heroes, several of which are in web hammocks strung from the ceiling. Dozens of eyes stare back, and he wonders if he missed something he shouldn't have. 

"Are we dead?" 

The collective sigh tells him they aren't, but that there's a lecture in his future.

[itsclydebitches]

You know, we’ve been continuing the conversations lately about the group’s inability to practice what they preach, what with Yang’s Raven secret and Ruby’s decision to perpetuate Ozpin’s decisions, but at least those two things are... acknowledged? Sort of. What I mean is, the story clearly thinks the Raven issue isn’t relevant. It absolutely is, but after three whole volumes and a dropped end credits scene, I think it’s pretty clear that RWBY considers it unimportant and has shuffled it off screen. Not worth your time, folks, and that in and of itself is some kind of acknowledgement: you should just let it go. Meanwhile, Ruby’s choices are frustratingly excused with a, “You’re different” speech, but at least an explanation exists, no matter how absurd. A dislike of the explanation doesn’t erase the fact that we got one. It’s still hypocritical, still stupid, still built on rewriting the themes as we go, but at least it’s something. 

You know what hasn’t been dropped from the story and likewise hasn’t been given at least a shoddy excuse? Oscar’s secrets. 

He (along with the rest of the group) lied to Ironwood for weeks/months about Salem and Ozpin

Then he kept the fact that Ironwood had gone off the deep end and tried to murder him quiet

Then Ozpin returned and he announced that he wouldn’t be sharing this crucial piece of info until he felt like it

Then he tops things off by, apparently, learning at some point that he had an insanely powerful weapon at his disposal and just... never brought that up 

I don’t like dragging the farm boy because I love the farm boy, I spent a huge amount of time throughout Volumes 5 and 6 defending him, but he’s suffering big time from the writing flaws lately. Ruby (rightfully) gets most of the heat for lies and secrets because she’s the leader, the show’s main protagonist, and the one who actually speaks them to Ironwood, but Oscar is in his own unique trouble due to being Ozpin’s “better.” At least supposedly. I mean, I personally despise RWBY’s message that the younger generation is inherently superior to the last - “We don’t need adults” and all that - but I don’t think we can deny that such a message exists. Ozpin had his successes off screen, that extraordinary time of peace, yet when the show starts he’s in the process of a downfall. The school is taken over, he’s murdered, and two volumes later he’s literally on his knees, having what little control he retained snatched away. Who replaces him? Oscar. The young, hopeful, bright-eyed child who is now - literally, due to the merge - stepping into Ozpin’s shoes. He’s accepted by the team when Ozpin is not (even if it took way too long). He’s got the wealth of optimism when Ozpin falters. This last volume we saw him straight up go, “No, we’re not doing your escape plan, we’re doing my turn-the-villain plan.” Oscar exists to provide that contrast, the new and improved Ozpin 2.0. The story is essentially saying that Ozpin, the ancient planner, failed spectacularly, but Oscar, the young go-getter, succeeds. Oscar-as-Ozpin will do what Ozpin 1.0 failed to accomplish: helping to defeat Salem by the end of the series. 

... so why is Oscar keeping so many secrets? 

That’s the snag for me. That’s where RWBY’s intended message falls apart. Not because the message was never there in the first place, but because they’re writing it badly. Ozpin’s way of doing things is, according to the show, defined primarily by controlling information. Keeping things close to his chest, as he says in Volume 6. For Oscar to exist as his better, he needs to reject the actions that - again, the story says - are dangerous, hurtful, and bound to fail. We see that a little bit in his willingness to trust Hazel (which, imo, is far too much of an extreme in the opposite direction), but beyond that Oscar is acting exactly like Ozpin. He’s keeping that info close to his chest just in case Ironwood proves to be an enemy. He’s reducing a traumatic event to “a long story” so as not to upset his teammate and cause further distress in an already stressful situation. He’s deciding that there’s a time and a place for revealing Ozpin’s return and that he will wait until such a time works for him. He, apparently, has a wealth of knowledge at his disposal now, from weapons to information about the Relics, that he’s doling out only when he feels the group absolutely needs to know these things. The cane nuke is just the new moment on the train: we need to escape Salem so I’ll reveal that I have the power to do so; we need to avoid the grimm so I’ll reveal that the Relic attracts them. You get this information when I consider it relevant, not before. And as far as we know, the merge isn’t really happening yet. Oscar is no less Oscar than he was at the start of Volume 4, minus a tendency to stand straighter. That’s the lack of acknowledgement. The story isn’t saying that Oscar is getting cagey because evil Ozpin is infecting his soul, it’s positing this as normal development for him as an induvial and... ignoring the problem with that. 

It’s real easy to point to Ruby as the main culprit here and critics (myself included) are absolutely right to. You really can’t do any worse than a whole volume of denouncing secrets, having Ruby parrot Ozpin’s near exact lies, and then try to hand-wave that away with, “But you’re different, Ruby.” RWBY’s moral themes shattered in that moment, but I think, beyond that hugely glaring flaw, there’s something a little subtler going on with Oscar - yet no less frustrating. The story clearly wants us to believe that Oscar is an improvement over Headmaster Ozpin, the new man (boy) who actually puts his trust in others... but who is he putting that trust in? Like the fandom’s worries that the group will eviscerate Jaune (the friend) after insta-forgiving Emerald (the enemy), it doesn’t sit right with me that Oscar is out here keeping major info from his teammates while handing out war intel to the guy torturing him in Salem’s whale. RWBY’s got its ideas of trust and forgiveness backwards and the crew doesn’t appear to realize that any excuses or explanations we might apply to Oscar will always apply to Ozpin too. Like Ruby and Ozpin, there remains a double standard at play between Oscar and Ozpin. You just can’t have this kid keeping so many things to himself now and ignore that this is the exact thing the story said was what made Ozpin the bad guy. Either acknowledge that and fix Oscar’s behavior, or acknowledge that and have the characters realize that Ozpin was right. Because without considering these choices, Oscar doesn’t actually exist as the contrast that I think RT wants him to be and the few nods to their differences - like trusting Hazel - come across as stupid decisions, not improvements. Rather than writing a kid from the next generation who is truly able to do better than the man who came before him, RWBY is writing a kid who is becoming exactly like his elder, with the exception of some incredibly foolish mistakes... all while claiming that he’s different in the way Ruby is different: just because, I guess. 

[tomodachimeter]

Answering old asks

m(__)m

That is all.

Emojis aside, I really am so very sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to responding to messages since the manga ended, I’ve been extremely busy in my personal life so it was kind of all I could do to cope with the manga ending during that time too, haha. As of now even the last volume and fanbook are already out, but I’ll leave a few comments on the messages I’ve been sent as they were. I’m also grouping together messages that are more of readers’ own comments rather than questions for me and responding all at once, so please forgive me if I couldn’t get around to responding individually!

“My heart pains to seeing the end ahahhhhh ashiya and abeno parted waysI really really really hope for something to come next. it kinda feels sad for meabt this ending”

“Honestly I like the ending but I didn’t like how the author left out information about abeno’s background. For instance, what happen to his parents?, where did he come from?, how did he come meeting Ao?,etc. I really wanted to see all of that, including how ashiya told his mom and sister about sakaes death. Other then that, I REALLY LOVE THE PROPOSAL!!! What is with shouen manga/anime with these different type of propsals like, “I’ll skate infinity with you”, “ I will die so you won’t be alone”,etc. Like COME ON!!! I also want to see a adult ashiya and abeno 🙏.”

I feel the same, I love the ending in its own way but I also expected so much more and I wanted to see more of their adventures. So I respect sensei’s decision but that just means it’s a free-for-all in terms of headcanons after!!

“Now that the manga has ended, I really wish the anime hadn't screwed up with the season 2 ending, so we could have gotten a continuation... I really miss animated Fuzzy running around, Ashiya's screaming and Abeno's "Hah?" (´꒳`)♡”

I wonder what they’d do for a season 3 if it ever came to pass. There are a few ways they could go about it like kind of just continuing down the manga, or they could ignore what they animated at the end of s2 and then keep going (Ao no Exorcist style), or I don’t even know, honestly. No matter how dissatisfied I am with how they do anime, I’d still watch it though. :U

“Wow I can't believe it took me so long to realize this! Recently, I noticed that the dynamic between Hanae-Sakae-Aoi-Abeno and the plot revolving around them is very similar to what happens in the manga Switch (Kai-his dad-Hal's dad-Hal). The relationship between Kai and Hal is similar to Hanae and Abeno's. Kai's dad died and this is related to Hal's dad, who has survived thanks to the death of his friend (Kai's dad). Plus Kai manifests what seems to be his dad's personality when he's in danger.”

“So much tears! I really don't want this to end, but I knew it was too good to be true. Though, the way the way the manga ended felt like a new beginning. Hanae made a promise/vow to Itsuki that he will return, no matter how long it takes, so he hopes Itsuki will wait for him. Also, that picture of Sakae and Aoi on the counter makes me hope that Hanae and his family (plus Sakae in heaven) has peace now. I felt like crying more. Thank you for everything and I hope to see you again!”

“ok rip Abeno's past... rip yellow eyes... rip this cliffhanger ending...“

“Suddenly I see that anon ask about OPs and EDs and partings & separations in a new light... darn. (╯°Д °)╯╧╧”

Fittingly enough, Sensei mentioned in the fanbook that Mononokean has always been a story about meetings and partings too, but still...! More...!!!

“I think this ending is very fitting. Ashiya was never truly part of the youkai world, he was always taking one step in only to step out soon after, and going back and forth between loving youkai and being afraid of them. Ashiya's state of employment has always had a "temporary" feeling to it, including, for example, the fact that he never changed his clothes, and his Mononokean-crest clothes were "borrowed". UItimately, Ashiya didn't seem like he could dedicate his life to youkai, unlike Abeno. (continuing from my previous ask about "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world") It wasn't only Ashiya's feelings on the matter that kept him away from the world of youkai. Abeno contributed greatly to this, as he constantly tried to keep Ashiya away from the Underworld, from danger, from knowing too much, and from youkai themselves, even though Ashiya was technically his employee. If Abeno had tried, even a little, to pull Ashiya into his world, Ashiya would have responded to him, I'm sure. (another "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world" ask) The fact Abeno actively blocked Ashiya from his world was the greatest reason why Ashiya didn't feel like he belonged there. But he still felt connected to Abeno, at least. Rather than dedicate his life to youkai, Ashiya seemed like he might dedicate it to Abeno. Yet this feeling was also met with a wall. By the time Abeno realized how precious it was, having someone who saw the same things as him by his side, it was already too late. (last ask in the series "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world") Ironically, the Mononokean and most other youkai were more open and willing to welcome Ashiya into their world. Still, if and when Ashiya can see youkai again, I hope Abeno will have realized the opportunity he'd wasted. When these two reunite, I hope Abeno won't push Ashiya away again. That's all. I wanted to share these thoughts with you. Please let me know your opinion on the matter. Thank you for reading! :)”

I think you’re right on point with the themes you’ve pointed out and I believe that’s what Sensei was going for too, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s terribly lonely for them to be separated from each other. ___(:3 At least we’re left with a (high) possibility of them getting back together (heh) and even moreso with the fanbook extra content too, so here’s to their continued adventures.

“I am not sure if you are familiar with this anime/manga/light novel series “No. 6” because the end of the Mononokean manga series appears similar to the end of the former in terms of the bond between the two male leads if you get what I mean.”

I know of it and it’s something I’ve always meant to get around to watching, but I have not seen it yet!

“Nooo, I can't believe it's over! 😭 But you know, ever since FNM's ending was announced, I've been looking for something to fill the void this precious story would inevitably leave in my heart, and then someone said "Watch Natsume Yuujinchou, the themes are similar and it's heartwarming". So I started it and, oh boy, I've been screaming at every episode because I'm not used to people openly showing their affection! 😂 So much hugging, hand-holding, head-patting... I'm melting!! (send help pls)”

“Hello Spring! We've reached the end of this wonderful journey, it seems. It's time for a new start. Thank you so much for everything you've done for this fandom, it wouldn't have been the same without you! Seriously, thank you, from the bottom of my heart! 😌 (PS: I forgot to mention, I opened this blog on my old old laptop, with its 1280x720 resolution, and the "ON YOUR OWN, BUT NOT ALONE" strip was right there covering Ashiya's and Abeno's faces, I had such a good laugh! I'm sorry I laughed!!)”

“This ending was really beautiful and yet sad. The promise made me hope but.. it's still so angst that maybe it will take years to hanae be able to see yokais again. I wonder if wazawa-sensei is okay, like, usually when a manga is ending they advertise previously, but the news was so suddenly that made me worry about sensei's health status. I also don't think that the publisher canceled the manga. So, I still don't know if this sudden ending was planned or not.”

Haha when I first made that tumblr theme, I kind of liked the effect that the strip had in covering Ashiya and Abeno’s faces somehow, but it always moves around depending on resolution lol.

In the afterword of the last volume and the fanbook, Sensei touched lightly on their various reasons for ending the manga (which I plan to cover eventually... when I have time...) and while I don’t think we’ll ever know fully, I got the impression that sensei personally seems in good health and even expressed that they would like to make another manga in the future, so as readers and fans we don’t need to worry too much.

“The manga ended well but we are left with unanswered questions : What is Abeno's past ? / Are golden eyes and hair special ? / What about Aoi's face ? / What really happened the day Aoi came back injured ? At this time she wasn't infected but Sakae died trying to save her (something is wrong with the plot) ?! / What about Fuzzy gender and his "human form" ?”

I will just say we got answers to some of those questions in the fanbook, and some we did not. :Y Please hold on for fanbook info!

Hey there. I’ve just read through the last chapter of the Mononokean. What a story. There are still a few questions that left me wondering: (1) What is the origin of the Mononokean itself?, (2) What is the origin of the Influence that flows within specific characters of the story?, (3) If Aoi was able to provide young Ashiya with a part of Sakae’s “Influence,” could it be done again?, & (4) If Ashiya could still see Fuzzy, what do you think this means for his potential abilities?

1. We were told in the first fanbook that the Mononokean was originally a well-loved tea ceremony room, and as we know in the Mononokean universe (also generally a concept in Japanese culture/religion, you can looked up the term “tsukumogami”), things that are used/loved sometimes end up gaining a sentience of their own, and if I remember right that’s how the Mononokean came to be too. (it’s been a while since I’ve reread the first fanbook so if I’m wrong please do correct me). As for any other specifics, we only know that Aoi and Abeno have been the first and second masters respectively, I’m pretty sure.

2. This was answered in the fanbook, which I’d like to summarize eventually! But Influence seems to be a natural power that develops in babies who have been in close contact with yokai before they were born, and golden hair and eyes are also a sign of that.

3. The partial Sakae Influence (lol wording) that Aoi gave to Ashiya as a baby was what Ashiya returned to Aoi to save them. I suppose since they’ve already done it before it’s technically possible, but that’d defeat the whole purpose of what they tried to do already haha.

4. I think it’s as Abeno theorizes, that Ashiya always did have a bit of ability to sense yokai on his own as well!

“I was looking for more FnM content and found out about your fanfictions on Ao3, so I read them all and oh my Lord! They were *so* good!! And I was very surprised and very glad to find out you ship Ashiya x Abeno, I'm especially happy because you ship them in that order, since I was so sure everybody would be shipping them in reverse order! Thank you so much for sharing your works!! (≧▽≦) ♡”

Thank you for your kind comments, I’m always so happy to hear someone loves my fic! I do love writing them even though I haven’t done it for a while and I have so many ideas and WIPs that I’ve still never gotten around to completely, but I swear I will do them someday... While I do think the reverse order is more popular in general, there’s a decent AshiItsu (the Japanese term for the ship haha) fandom thriving on Twitter!

Again thank you so much everyone! Look forward to fanbook info I’d like to get around to posting about soon!

[jostenneil]

do you have shounen recs too? other than naruto and fma lol

naruto and fma are like decade long infections that have refused to leave me djdbkdn but yes, i do! i’ll apply the same logic here as i did in the other post where i include some seinen too bc ultimately the distinction is just an age demographic

sket dance (manga) - this is one of my favorite manga of all time! it centers on a group of three friends—bossun, himeko, and switch—who start a student support group at their high school for anyone to come to with their everyday problems. the clientele and their problems are varied in a pretty humorous way, and in the beginning it almost feels like the series is set up to be purely comedic, but as you get further into the series you learn just why the main characters started the club, which is the winning point for me. these characters are so fleshed out and so much of their individual trauma gives insight as to why they’re intent to help and befriend others, especially on bossun’s part. he is probably one of my favorite shounen protagonists period. his character propagates a really wonderful message of how people don’t need to be fixed in order to solve their problems, just listened to and supported, and i adore the series for its exploration of that concept. the mangaka was also an assistant to sorachi on gintama, so i think fans of gintama will rly enjoy it in the sense that both series share similar values, messages, and humor! there’s a few crossovers between the two, iirc. also! i don’t particularly mind the anime and it has a banger soundtrack but just imo the emotional beats hit harder in the manga

silver spoon (anime/manga) - this is the series hiromu arakawa wrote after finishing fma, and i would actually argue that it’s her better work of the two! it centers on a boy named hachiken, who spontaneously decides to enroll at an agricultural high school to get away from his stressful family life in the city, and obviously, it’s a huge reality check for him. he’s dropped into this school where every other student has farming-related ambitions in the long run, while he has no ambitions at all and simply used enrollment as an excuse to get away from his problems. the series is a masterclass in learning about the worth in hard work, camaraderie, and why thinking about your future and what you want to do matters, not just from a practical aspect but also in terms of self fulfillment. as expected of arakawa, it boasts endearing humor, a wonderful array of distinct characters, and a really fleshed out portrayal of farm life, made even more enjoyable and genuine by the fact that she’s writing in her element, as she grew up on a farm herself

tsubasa reservoir chronicle (manga) - this is a cult classic within clamp circles, but outside of that fandom it’s more known as the intimidating clamp series most ppl wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. and i get that! the fact that it crosses over with some other clamp series makes it pretty confusing to parse through at times. but i also think that’s the series’ greatest strength, bc when you understand the nature of that crossover, the depth of the storytelling is truly brilliant! at its most basic, trc follows a pair of childhood friends, syaoran and sakura, who live in a desert-like “clow country”. sakura walks into some ruins one day and is spontaneously robbed of all of her memories, which syaoran must then journey across multiple dimensions to recapture, as her memories have been scattered in the form of feathers. the pair also have three traveling companions—kurogane, fai, and mokona—and altogether the group visits multiple dimensions that are loosely inspired by clamp’s other series and characters. obv, as the plot progresses, we discover there’s more to the group’s mission than meets the eye, and it ventures into pretty dark, existential territory, as is the norm for clamp. it also may be unpopular of me to say this, but i actually think it’s a great introduction to clamp (it was mine lol), given there’s so many cameos from their previous series and the series sets up such interesting lore. just be warned that you do have to think while reading this series, as the lore is intense! also, do not watch the anime. at all. it’s the worst adaptation ever

ookiku furikabutte (anime/manga) - popularly called oofuri, this series is in my opinion one of the best sports manga published in the last two decades. it follows a boy named mihashi, a baseball pitcher who refuses to give up the mound and essentially alienates himself from his middle school teammates in the process bc they don’t know how to actually utilize his pitches. he enters high school as a total nervous wreck with little to no confidence in himself bc of this experience, until the catcher, abe, recognizes that he’s actually a really unique pitcher unrecognized for his talents by his old teammates. abe and mihashi basically latch onto each other, with abe believing he can mold mihashi into the best pitcher there is, and mihashi believing abe is the one person capable of making him into a good pitcher. it’s a fascinating take on codependency and building up your self esteem, and i would argue that higuchi asa’s sports psychology background lends itself splendidly to the messages oofuri sends about how to build healthy sportsmanship among teenage boys. overall i think it’s a great series to read if you’re looking for catharsis and comfort, as well as baseball lore!

gangsta. (manga) - this series is the most dark and complicated of the works in this list, just as an advisory. there’s prostitution, gang violence, gore, etc etc. but for the presence of all of that, gangsta. is probably one of the most well rounded series i have read in the last few years. it starts with alex benedetto, a prostitute who ends up as the sole survivor of a mass gang murder propagated by two thugs for hire, worick and nic. the two men take her under their wing as a friend and someone who answers their phone, and the three of them form a unique but really loving partnership with each other. the plot eventually extends into a turf war that plagues the town they live in, ergastulum, on account of a drug trade that allows for the breeding of “twilights”, who are essentially drug enhanced superhumans. it’s hard to explain much more without giving away spoilers, but the series has an incredibly diverse cast, in terms of race, disability, and sexuality, and it manages to tackle really dark subject matter without coming off as too edgy or tragedy porn-seque. the artwork is also absolutely gorgeous and the relationships among various characters are portrayed with such amazing nuance, that i can’t even complain when plot points make me sad beyond belief

this is what i have for now but i may add onto it later! do let me know if you enjoy any of these ❤️

[fandom-necromancer]

155. Part 2

This was prompted by the AO3 user Kira_Katashi! Enjoy!

Fandom: [Prototype] & Assassin’s Creed | Ship: Almond (Alex/Desmond) [part1]   [read on AO3]

Alex sat on top of a destroyed skyscraper, hidden behind the shattered beams and broken flooring. He simply waited there while watching humanity rebuild what was previously known as the Red Zone. Lower Manhattan was still largely a wasteland. In the distance he could see cranes and scaffolding rebuild tower after tower. Who knew, maybe in a few years’ time, everything would be back to normal and the next generation would have already forgotten how narrowly humanity had evaded extinction. It wasn’t without a sense of disbelief when he reminded himself that back then there had actually been two threats, and no one knew about either. Well, the viral outbreak could hardly be hidden away, but had Alex not run into Desmond at Abstergo, he had never known of the solar flare and a conflict between opposing forces that had existed through all times. What else was there he didn’t know about, he asked himself some days. He sighed. He guessed it didn’t have to bother him anymore. His only concern was to eradicate the remaining nests in New York that sporadically popped up. He had to make sure he was the last remaining piece of Blacklight in the world.

Other than that, the only thing for him to do was wait until the assassins needed him as a weapon. He didn’t know how it had first happened, but ever since rescuing Desmond from Abstergo out of mutual gain, they considered him an ally to their course. For now, he hadn’t tried to change that. Once humanity had reconquered the Red Zone, there was nowhere left to go for him. He wasn’t human anymore and with Blackwatch being able to discover any and all particles of Blacklight with their scans he basically had a large target on his back once Lower Manhattan had been cleared. Maybe in the end, he would have to side with the assassins if only for the reason they would take him in and hide him from the world. If it wasn’t just a plot to get a sample from him to infect a fellow assassin and transform them to have a weapon that was truly loyal to their course.

But Desmond had been serious with his offer, right? The man had seemed like he was honest with what he said at least. If he was to believe what he had heard, Desmond wasn’t truly human himself anymore and with having relived the memories of his ancestors, maybe they were more similar than Alex dared to think. Also, it wasn’t as if he could be contained if he really didn’t want to be there. Even Bloodtox would only slow him down at this point. Well, he had time until there was real urgency in the decision, but Alex would rather get it over with while there was still a plan-b for him and the assassins remembered he had saved one of their most valued members.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed the phone call. He had only two contacts, Dana and Desmond and he had a feeling it would be the latter this time. He was right: ‘Hey, Alex, there is another briefing scheduled in an hour. Err… Just tell me where I can find you afterwards, so I can keep you updated.’ Alex thought about it for a moment and then cut the line without answering. An hour? He could make it. If only to test the waters with his presumed allies and spare Desmond the way over through a partially infected district.

He climbed to the floor above him and jumped out of the hole in the wall, gliding over to the next building. As he continued his way towards the river, he was thinking about what Desmond had suggested. He could try making his way in with a disguise, but would that really solve anything? In the end, he decided to leave the deserted stores alone and simply head over to their hideout. He scaled the last building and used the height to soar over the East River until he hit Williamsburg Bridge and travelled along its side. From there on he travelled by foot using small streets and staying away from the gates on the larger ones checking those that wanted to leave the district for any sign of the virus. Used to the speed he normally travelled at in the Red Zone, it was agonising walking through the streets slow enough not to raise suspicion. As he finally arrived at the hideout, a building made from simple bricks in an industrial area, he was already late. He walked towards the entrance, noting, but not reacting to a person standing leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette. The human on the other hand stepped into his way. ‘Wait. Who are you?’ Mercer looked the man up and down. His first instinct was to consume, but that would likely lessen his chances with the assassins, so he accepted the delay begrudgingly. ‘I’m expected.’ ‘I still need your name.’ The virus sighed. ‘My name is Mercer. A… friend of Desmond and your brothers used me often enough as their weapon to justify me attending the briefings, does it not?’ He enjoyed seeing the instinctive flinch the man couldn’t quite stifle. ‘The virus?’ ‘You want evidence?’ He couldn’t help his biomass shifting in anger at the unwanted delay. ‘Or will you let me in now?’

Apparently, the man was clever enough not to take him up on that offer and opened the door, leading him through the building to the meeting room. Then he left him alone. Mercer decided to make his first impression count and opened the doors without knocking or further notice, interrupting the meeting and immediately gathering all the attention in the room. He let his eyes fly over the different persons and relaxed a bit as he saw Desmond. He was surprised as the man pulled an empty chair back for him and quickly made his way over. As soon as he had sat down, the meeting continued as if nothing had happened and the few glances his way stopped after a while.

‘I’m glad you came’, Desmond whispered, leaning over a bit. ‘Although you won’t gain points with my dad by being late.’ ‘I don’t really care for that’, Alex grumbled. ‘Well, you have mine, then.’ Desmond grinned at him, before he returned his attention back to the briefing. ‘Desmond, how’s the team with the new network?’ ‘Dana’s making progress’, the man answered. Alex perked up at the mention of his sister. He didn’t actually know what she was doing here. ‘We planned on getting the bugs positioned in the city by the end of the week.’ ‘Mercer, how’s the situation in Manhattan?’ Alex looked up, not quite expected to be asked yet. ‘Err… The hum- the people of New York have begun rebuilding. I’m keeping an eye on the infected and at the moment there are no nests that survived my last hunt.’ ‘Good. How difficult would it be to infiltrate the working crew to bug their systems during construction.’ ‘Quite easy. They take everyone who is brave enough to go into the Red Zone. Most of the workers don’t know each other.’ ‘Alright. Desmond and Mercer, as soon as those bugs are ready, it’s your job to distribute them.’ ‘Understood’, Desmond answered, leaning back. The rest of the briefing went on without Mercer being addressed at any time. Still, he was impressed with how little his presence was questioned. Sure, a few people stared, but that was expected.

‘Ahh, so that’s over with!’, Desmond sighed as he went outside, stretching. ‘I hate these briefings…’ ‘Couldn’t say I enjoyed it, either’, Alex nodded. ‘At least your people didn’t seem too bothered with a mass murder in their rows.’ ‘Too be honest, I did some cultivation of your image here… It was only me, Shaun and Rebecca against Abstergo for a long time. With me being the one destined to saving the world and you being the person who saved me, I think they have to at least pretend to like you. Also, Dana already did great work, so you joining isn’t too sudden for them. But come on, I’ll show you your room!’ ‘My… room?’ ‘Sure. You… You are staying right? I mean, why else the sudden change with the briefings?’ Alex still looked sceptical and Desmond continued: ‘We kept you a room vacant that’s far from the others’. I know you like it secluded.’ ‘I… do.’

Desmond led him through the building past a gym and weapons range as well as sleeping quarters, up two flights of stairs until they were standing under the roof. It was a narrow chamber with a bed, a desk and its own bathroom. Not that Alex needed anything of that, but it was a nice touch. ‘You can use this room, if you want. If you want to stay.’ Alex stood there and contemplated. It sure beat his draughty shelter in the collapsed skyscraper. Maybe he would test it out for a while and go back when it didn’t feel right. Slowly he nodded. ‘It will take time adapting to it, but I will try.’

Desmond smiled at him and patted his shoulder companionable. ‘Then welcome home.’

[sarahwyland]

Hmmmm let’s see 9, 18, 24, 28 (Nabrina, quarantine, wine) 43, 49

Thanks for asking! 

9: What are your favorite fanfics?

Oh my gosh, so many good ones in the Nabrina world right now... @willowaus has a beautiful fic called ‘Before the devil breaks me’ that’s brilliant. @bunivys gives me all the feels with ‘If You Let Me’ and @shotgunkitten‘s ‘Lets Fall In Love for the Night’ makes me want to scream and giggle in equal parts. Those are just 3 of about 10 I’m really loving right now! 

18. What is your favorite writing prompt?

Not so much a prompt as advice: “Write what you know.” I can write some pretty fantastical stuff, but everything I write has something pulled from my own experiences, whether its a subplot or a character trait. 

24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?

Let’s see... I’ve got ‘Wicked Winds’ which I’m posting now and another Nabrina fic that is technically done but needs to be heavily added. I’ve got a few Nabrina one-shots sitting on my laptop I come back to here and there too. I can think of about 5 original works in varying states of finished and I’ve got a couple of TV pilots I’m dreaming up right now too. 

28. I will name you three things (object — scenario — fandom/ship): write a paragraph or two!

I got Nabrina, quarantine, and wine - here we go. A little “Free Pour” future action. (And maybe wrote more than a paragraph on the fly..) 

Sabrina refused to acknowledge Nick. He approached cautiously, well aware of his place in the dog house with her. He stopped a few feet from where she sat on the couch, mad at the world and simmering hotter with each passing moment. 

“Still mad at me?” he ventured. Sabrina just glared. “Still mad at me.” He left the room and returned a few minutes later with two wine glasses filled with red liquid. Sabrina raised an eyebrow. 

“Wine?” she demanded. “Nick...” 

“Not wine,” he shook his head. “Alcoholic, remember? Quarantine hasn’t driven me to drink - yet.” She glared again. “Terrible joke,” he said quickly. “Sorry.” He offered her a glass as he perched beside her. “Cranberry juice.” 

“Which we have because of you,” Sabrina muttered. Nick bit back his smirk. She was in pain. It wasn’t funny and he didn’t think he could be entirely blamed for the urinary tract infection that had her in such a foul mood. Even still, he couldn’t really hate the amount of sex being stuck in London during a global pandemic had inspired, sex which had, in turn, brought about her UTI. “Thanks,” she added as she took the glass from him. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked carefully. 

“Maybe a little better,” she admitted. “The antibiotics are starting to help I think. Although I might end up with COVID since you forced me to go to a doctor’s office crawling with germs in the middle of this.” 

“You had a fever and you were in a lot of pain,” Nick said. “I wasn’t going to let you go another day like that. Two was two too many.” 

“I hate quarantine,” she grumbled. “I was so excited to be in London with you for a few weeks, now who knows when we’ll get home?” 

“I know,” Nick agreed. “Interning and teaching from a small flat is certainly not what I envisioned when I accepted the position for the spring semester.” 

He was in his third year of his Ph.D. studies and had accepted an internship researching and teaching based in London for the semester. He had left Greendale after the New Year and Sabrina had joined him a few weeks later, intending to spend a few weeks with him before heading back to Greendale for a few weeks, and then returning for the last month of his stay. Instead, the world had gone into a virtual lockdown and they were figuring it out the best they could - and learning to live together in a very small space. 

“At least we’re trapped together,” Sabrina said after a sip of her juice. “I know I’ve been annoyed with you these last few days, but it would be far worse to be trapped in separate countries.”

“You are, truly, the only person I’d ever want to quarantine with,” he assured her. 

“Assuming we make it through this, let’s not ever get quarantined again,” Sabrina proposed. 

“Deal,” Nick chuckled. He looped his arm around her and she allowed it. 

“Sorry I’ve been such a bitch today,” she offered. “You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I’ll forgive you this time.” He kissed her hair. “But I get to pick our next quarantine activity.” He reached behind a throw pillow for the box he had stashed earlier.

“Puzzles,” Sabrina groaned. 

“1,000 pieces, left on our doorstep by Amazon an hour ago,” Nick confirmed with glee. “The Great Pyramids. It’s going to be amazing.” 

He sat forward and went to work opening the puzzle. A fond smile played at her lips as she watched him. She lifted her wine glass of cranberry juice to her lips. There was, without a doubt, no one else she would want to quarantine - or do puzzles - with.

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

I love a good “oh no, there’s one bed!” scenario. Or for two people who “hate” each other to get trapped somewhere during a storm or something and next thing you know... sparks fly. 

49. Where do you draw inspiration from? 

I suppose I touched on this a bit with my “write what you know” comment. I also pull inspiration from books especially, but also other TV shows I watch and the experiences of my friends. 

[suzu-kun22]

Scars

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760671

Prompt: Trust Issues Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Pairings: None Warnings: Discussion of scars, vague implication of character death Summary: Ian often wonders about the vast collection of scars on Percy Jackson’s chest. He regrets asking. @badthingshappenbingo​ If there are any specific prompts you’d like me to write and any specific scenarios/fandoms/pairings you’d like me to write for, just send in an ask! Story below the cut!

"Hey, Percy, where did all those scars come from?"

It's an odd question, to say the least. Well, less of an odd question to come from Ian McHale's mouth and more of an odd situation to be in. The fact that the question even crossed his mind in the first place is odd enough. Very few teenagers have to look at one of their friends' bare torso as they change for gym class and wonder where the giant gashes that cover his chest came from.

Maybe he shouldn't have asked. The thought crosses his mind when Percy Jackson seems to freeze. Shoulders seem to tense and eyes seem to drift far away, as though he's trying to remember something. Or perhaps like he's trying to forget something. Which honestly would be understandable. Those scars look really nasty. Whatever happened to give him marks like that couldn't have been fun.

Ian is just about to say something. Open his mouth and apologize for even asking – seriously, Ian. You should know Percy better than that – before he's interrupted by Percy's awkward laugh. His friend finishes pulling off his bright blue swim-team hoodie and the t-shirt underneath it. The scars that Ian had been asking about are on full display. Nasty. Massive. Some look as though they healed without issue and some look as though they really fought before finally submitting to the whims of Percy's strange healing.

Seriously. They've never seen him get hurt before, and the few times they have seen him get even mildly injured, it's gone by the next day. What's up with that?

"They're some pretty crazy stories." Percy says with his typical sarcastic grin. "Sure you're ready to hear them, Ian? I dunno if you'll even believe them." He sets his hands on his hips, not yet bothering to pull his gym shirt over his head. If there's one word that absolutely cannot be used to describe Percy Jackson, it's ashamed.

"Uh, sure." He blinks. He blinks and does a double take, eyes combing Percy's entire body one more time. Because, as much as he'd never think it the case, his eyes just fed him the information that Percy Jackson's hands are shaking against his own skin.

The idea of Percy Jackson shaking is ridiculous enough on its own. Ian can't think of a single time he's ever seen Percy even slightly afraid. Nervous, maybe. Percy gets nervous before big tests and jumps when his phone rings too loud and always seems like he's looking over his shoulder. He's cautious. Always watches his back, always has the same pen twirling in his hands, always seems like he's ready to get up and run at a moment's notice.

Percy Jackson doesn't shake, though. Never, in the almost year that he's known Percy Jackson, has Ian seen his friend shake.

"I mean, you don't have to–"

"This one came from the Minotaur." Percy's grin almost seems to falter, just slightly, as he raises a hand and points to a mark up near his collarbone. "Got that one when I was 12." He says, almost proudly, but Ian doesn't think the emotion in his friend's voice is meant to be pride. He thinks – his mind won't accept any other explanation – that Percy must be joking. The minotaur? Everyone knows that's just some stupid myth–

"It got me real good with its horns!" Percy's declaration pulls Ian right out of that brief train of thought. Quickly accompanied by the shifting of Percy's hands, pointing to another mark. This one closer to his stomach. "This one came from Echidna and the Chimera. They poisoned me. If you look me up, you'll find out that I was kidnapped when I was 12," He says that so casually, and of course Ian had known about that. Everyone knew about that. But he'd never actually worked up the nerve to ask. "And I blew up the Gateway Arch. That's when I got that. Almost died, too!" He laughs it off like it's no big deal, and Ian thinks he should really start getting them moving.

"Oh, and this one." He points to a scar closer to his hip. "Ares himself gave me this one! I'm really proud of it. I survived a fight with Ares himself!" Percy continues the ridiculous stories as though he's completely serious. Ian thinks that he must have really struck a nerve, if Percy is taking this fake story so far.

"Oh," Ian finally manages to say something before Percy can start on the next mark. The one he was pointing to was on the palm of his hand. Massive. Dark. Old. It had been infected – Ian is sure of that – before it healed. And, honestly, Ian isn't sure that he wants to know the story of that one.

Percy's fingers tremble, and he doesn't seem to have noticed Ian's discomfort. Ian is too fixated on the fact that Percy Jackson is trembling to say much of anything before the story is being told to him.

"This one's from when I was 12, too." He whispers. "A friend of mine poisoned me." He continues, and suddenly his voice doesn't sound so nonchalant anymore. "Well... He wasn't my friend. He betrayed me. Tried to kill me. Wanted..." Percy bites down lightly on his lower lip. "He wanted to do some real bad stuff. But... in the end, he saved me." Percy squeezes his eyes shut, and Ian thinks that he really should have just left the topic alone.

He thinks that he really should have just left the topic alone,

but he can't help but think that... it's the first time he's felt that Percy Jackson has truly trusted him.

"Your friend poisoned you..?" Ian prompts him, and almost immediately regrets it. 

Percy almost jerks, as though brought out of a deep train of thought. He pauses. Blinks a few times. Takes a long, deep breath, and raises his head to meet Ian's eyes again. Though, now, this time, they look different. That soft green that typically reminds Ian of the sea seems to have shifted to something darker. Quieter. Lonely and desperate. Maybe something that longs for someone to share itself with, but hides behind the knowledge that it's a burden that must be carried alone.

"Percy–"

"You know I was kidding, right?" Percy's entire being suddenly shifts back to that same ever-sarcastic, fun-loving personality that he's always had. As though he had never played at being serious in the first place. As though this had all been some hilarious joke that they shouldn't even bother remembering.

"C'mon, man," Percy interrupts his train of thought once again. "We're gonna be late for gym." He says with exasperation, as he finally pulls his gym shirt over his scarred torso. Not a word on the topic passes between them, as they make their way out of the locker room and into the gymnasium. Percy doesn't show a single hint of that nervous energy that he had practically been radiating. He grins to greet Hannah and Emma as they approach them, just as he always does.

Yet, something holds in Ian's chest.

Something that tells him that, those few moments, that trembling in Percy's fingers, is the most honest that Percy Jackson has ever been with him.

Something that tells him that, whatever it is that haunts the guy who he'd call his best friend, is something that he'll never truly understand.

Or maybe Percy just doesn't trust him enough to let him understand.

[howtotrainyouragents]

Agent H’s AOS Rewatch

S2E10 “What They Become” 

I wrote this out during the actual rewatch week, but I didn’t realize I never posted it! Boy, did this get long. 

-I had to do a liveblog of this episode because it’s one of my favorites of the season, and we get SKYE’S TRANSFORMATION! 

-Okay, so @the fandom who were around back then: at what point did people guess they were doing a terrigenesis/Inhumans storyline? Because I only learned that’s what they were doing via the internet frenzy after the episode was over

Ward, May, Coulson, and HYDRA

-MAY’S. EPIC. FLYING. FUDGE YYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHH. This is so fucking brilliant of her, dead-dropping the plane and then cloaking.

-”I would put two of these (bullets) in his heads”. Plus, Coulson always looking at the good side: “you saved six agents”.  I didn’t do a liveblog of  2x09, but that conversation with Bobbi about acceptable casualties is SO IMPORTANT and vital to who Coulson is and the show overall and you know that’s the moment Bobbi truly supported Coulson.

-Good callback: Before Coulson freaked out that Skye was taken. Now he’s confident that she’ll be able to handle herself until they can get in there.

-”Hand me your side arm, let’s find out”-Skye

-Is Ward’s personality shift (though still a psychopath) this first half of the season because he’s lost without Garrett or because he believes he can be redeemed through helping Skye? Both?

-Yass queen, pick up the diviner

- I loved seeing the bad guys maneuvering around each other in Season 2a, and all of that coming to a head this episode. But I don’t know why Ward and Skye and all attacked and then they just stopped. I think they could have taken the HYDRA goons easily

-“Never turn your back on the enemy.” You know I’m glad Skye shot Ward too. It’s closure on his belief that she can redeem him that’s been carrying him through these last ten episodes.

-I never realized that Agent 33′s voice was distorted

-HYDRA, SHIELD, and the aos writers treated Kara so badly, and I am yelling shame and ringing the bell at all of them.

Hunter and Bobbi

-“If he really is dead, the number of people I trust on this planet, just plummeted.” The Huntingbird hug is so beautiful! How strong Bobbi pretends to be (“Whenever this is all over, I’m gonna cry for like a week”= so real) and how she lets herself go with Hunter. She’s so surprised by the hug at first, and I love how much taller she is than him. He knows about the flashdrive, but he tries to comfort her anyway and that makes me sad and touched. 

-”Diego’s early and he’s wearing a suit.”-Bobbi

-The kiss! Ugh, Huntingbird really does fill all the classic OTP tropes

-”Don’t die out there.” “He likes to hear it.” “Who doesn’t like to hear it??”

-”Join SHIELD, travel to excotic distant people, meet exciting unusal people, and kill them” -Hunter 

Fitz, Simmons, Tripp, and the Koenigs

-Bahahaha, the Koenigs, His little thumbs up and Hunter rolling his eyes for his life (Hunter would die in the middle of saying something sarcastic, and I will stake my life on that). Also good reuse of the pod units but this time for good (rather than, you know, bottom of the ocean and dying). Sidenote, did we see the pods anytime before Skye gets shot?

-I love Fitzsimmons working together (finally) in the holding cell. I love how the minute they say they’re not gonna work together anymore, they have to work together. Here, they’re so polite but also they’ve got such a natural rhythm. Simmons seems like she wants to talk about them but he’s like oh no, wasn’t talking about myself! Fitz is both back to himself and also gotta new groove (his recovery is going well!). Simmons being genuinely worried for Mack. FITZ’s LOOK OF LOVE

-I only appreciated it on this rewatch, but the show has good continuity of Fitzsimmons/team vs alien tech/bio. They spend majority of season 1 finding 084s and researching their properties and learning how they interact with human biology. Then second season plays off the events of the first season: they’ve seen how many times alien tech/biology is dangerous and they’ve seen it infect and kill so many people. It makes perfect sense why Simmons and the others would be cautious about this alien stuff (Fitz is the loyal one, remembering that this is their friend they’re talking about it and he’s got (blind) faith when it comes to his friends). Season 2 is like introduction to actual aliens (as opposed to relics/artifacts/Asgardians) and how human Inhumans are. Season 3 builds on that further by exploring the good and bad sides of Inhumans.

-I didn’t do a liveblog of the previous episode, but Fitz’s “If you’re looking for vacation time, bribery will get you nowhere. I’ve tried.” is golden. I like the little character traits they give Fitz like, in addition to being a literal genius and all the trauma he’s faced, he’s just a quietly disgruntled SHIELD employee who just wants vacation time and warmer AC (re: season 4)  

-Howling Commando gear!!!!!

-Aww, Tripp flirting with Simmons and Fitz is just like…  

-The Koenig cloning jokes, hahaha (Poor Tripp)

-First mention of Theta protocol! Dun dun dunnn

-We don’t know what the alien tech is. But Hazmat suits should do the job. :)

-I remember the Fitz splitting off scene being hilarious. Is it because he’s miffed at the flirting, miffed at Simmons, or just genuinely proving that he can do things now?

-Simmons touching Fitz’s arm. And then him holding her later!!!

Cal and Skye 

-Cal and Skye’s meeting! This is an emotional, painful reunion. 

-I LOVE the actor who plays Cal, he does fantastic job. Seriously how did they get him and Dichen Lachmann to play her parents?? Well done, casting director

-I love that they make Skye biracial just like how Chloe Bennet is and it’s relevant to her storyline

-So to recap Skye’s backstory. Her mother is taken by Whitehall but is released when he gets captures in the 40s. She’s born to her parents, but Whitehall captures Jiaying again. Cal rescues Jiaying, and they return, but HYDRA had already taken Skye as an 084 (?). SHIELD teams led by Audrey then take care of SKye until she is given to an orphanage. Correct?

-”People liked me. I liked myself.” This line deserves much meta

-Teach you about the stars= Inhumans. I love how that’s a total throwaway innocent line, but it all makes sense once you know. 

-Just when Skye has figured out life as a SHIELD spy, her world gets rocked again. But I think this path is a good development because she’s not just a regular SHIELD agent: She was born on the outside; learned to think in unusual ways; she’s bubbly and warm and compassionate when SHIELD agents before were typically taught to be rationale and merciless. She’s born to be a new kind of SHIELD agent as well as the bridge between Inhumans and SHIELD

-The lullaby :(

-”Best Day Ever” -Cal

-I mean the emotional manipulation of “After you change I’m the only one who’ll understand” is bad, but he was right in the sense that they all were afraid of her

-Skye wanting to stop the drill and get the obelisk as a way of making it up to Coulson and because she’s a good SHIELD agent. But, like, she knows that’s what her father wanted, so does she just believe she won’t get caught up in whatever is going on? Does she go because fate is pulling her? Does this show believe in fate?? *thinks about all the future time-travelling shenanigans and gets a headache*

THAT ENDING THO

-The thing with Mack presumed dead freaking broke my heart, but it’s a good  fake out to blindside us with Tripp’s death. 

-IMO, the obelisk is a good fake out for terrigenesis crystals. Even if I knew about Inhumans stuff before hand, I wouldn’t have put it together through what info they give us on the obelisk in previous episodes

-THE TRANSFORMATION. “”WHAT WE BECOME” AKA THE QUESTION THAT WAS ASKED WAY BACK IN SEASON ONE IS FINALLY GETTING ANSWERED. AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH. The chanting, man. Is it the same one we’ve heard before?

- “I gotta admit I’m just the tiniest bit nervous.” I could write an essay on why I love this line.

-SKYE’S TRANSFORMATION. IT’S SO POWERFUL AND SO HEARTBREAKING. THEY’RE BOTH JUST TRYING TO SAVE EACH OTHER. I’M CRYING. 

-I probably just need to rewatch this again, but why didn’t anything happen to Tripp when the terrigenesis first activated but then he gets hurt when he gets hit?  Like is it the terrigenesis won’t hurt him, but touching the crystals/obelisk will? 

-Ya’ll are gonna hate me for this, but... I get why Tripp had to die. Like, it devastated me and still does and its racist and HE DID NOT DESERVE IT. But from the storyline POV, I see why he was chosen to die. Tripp was incorporated into the story in season 1 to replace Ward. We needed an action guy on the team because half the team is non-combat and we needed someone who was genuinely good to balance out the real Ward. But season 2, everyone’s shifted roles. We have Daisy, Hunter, Bobbi who all fill the action roles, so Tripp’s primary role is no longer necessary. He’s (intentionally?) underdeveloped: he does a variety of things, but he’s not filling any one role nor is he vital in any specific relationship, the way Coulson, May, Fitzsimmons, and Skye are, and he doesn’t contribute to the season’s plot the way Hunter, Bobbi, and Mack do. Plus, it’s a really shitty symbolism of how the show is progressing to darker tones by killing of their sunshine boy.

-Anyway, I cant believe they just end like that for a mid-season finale. Top ten moments of superhero genre, without question. Also, is this the first time we here’s Daisy’s theme song? Because I’ve mentioned before how powerful and sad-sounding it is

-GORDON!!!!!!! 

[katehuntington]

How You & I Will Be - part three

Fandom: Supernatural Timeframe: mid-season 2 Main characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned) Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Series summary: When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and Y/N find themselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. A serious injury forces the two hunters to come to terms with their true feelings for each other. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time? Warnings part three: angst, pining, canon typical violence, horror and gore, nightmares, anxiety attack, swearing, alcohol, description of blood and injury, possible character death. Some fluff, but mostly flangst. Music: ‘Just The Way You Are’ by Billy Joel Word Count:  2864 words Author’s note: Part 3 of a 5 part mini-series. @idreamofhazel and @littlegreenplasticsoldier, thank you so much for being awesome betas! The angst train made a short stop at Fluff Station, but I can assure you that from now on we’re rolling straight into Hell! Enjoy! 

Find the ‘How You & I Will Be’ masterlist here!

     Darkness…. Complete, pitch black darkness. The only sound that disturbs the silence is the howling of a canine in the distance. Y/N recognizes it, there's only one creature that is capable of producing a cry like that. It’s a cry that makes her shiver, that causes the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. A second hellhound replies to the call, its origin much closer than the one before. Startled she steps back, feeling the snow rustle under her bare feet. She’s too frightened to feel the cold.

     Has she gone blind? Is that the reason she can only hear the monsters in the shadows? Her sense of smell has definitely not disappeared because the metallic aroma of blood pricks her nostrils. Then the hellhounds stay quiet, causing her heart rate to fasten even more. She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. Okay, keep calm. Keep your head straight, Y/N.

     Even though she’s scared out of her mind, now is not the time to flee blindly. It wouldn't matter anyhow, she couldn't possibly outrun them. What she does need to do, is let the hunter inside deal with this. She knows what kind of supernatural being she’s dealing with, now what does she have on her that could possibly help? Quickly she checks her pockets, which, to her relief, contain a small cotton bag of goofer dust. With quivering hands Y/N takes the bag out, but drops it in the process. Shit!

Panicking she crouches and searches the surface using her hands, letting her fingertips explore the snow. When she touches something that stands out, she freezes. Very slowly she pulls back her hand, the tip of them stained with a substance that feels like blood. A breeze caresses her face, waving her hair slightly. But it wasn't the wind, it was a breath.

     One of the hellhounds is inches from her face, she doesn’t need eyesight to determine that. She can feel the creature's presence and as it starts to growl deeply, Y/N begins to whimper, trembling so badly that she can barely keep her balance. Slowly she looks up, her breath quivering as tears find their way down her face. Her blood runs cold, even though she sees the hot flames flicker in the eyes of the being that is about to shred her to pieces. Oh my God, I’m going to hell…

     In a fraction of a second, the monster jams its teeth into the side of her head. She hears the bone crushing as she lets out a horrifying scream, and before the hellhound rips her face off, she calls for the only person who has always saved her in the past, but today will not. No flashbacks of her grim life, no bright light that seduces her to come closer. Only pain. Excruciating, unbearable pain.      "DEAN!!!"

     "Hey hey hey! Calm down, Y/N. Calm down, it's okay."      Her eyes fly open as she bolts up. In complete fright, she inhales rapidly as if she’d fought to the surface after having been held under water too long. The air is thin and she can’t breathe.     “Y/N? Look at me! Look at me, please….” Dean positions himself in front of her. “Look at me.”     It isn't until Dean softly cups her face, that his words come through and her eyes flick at his, truly seeing him. It’s when she stares into those green orbs, she realizes that what she just experienced was indeed a nightmare. Reality is slightly better, she’s still trapped in the cabin with Dean, waiting for some kind of miracle. But she’s not being slaughtered by hellhounds, so at least she has that going for her. Able to breathe out again with a shivering sigh, she closes her eyes. Mother of God, that was vivid.

     "You alright?" Dean asks carefully, reading her with burdened eyes.      Y/N nods, almost as a reflex. After all, she has never answered that question differently. Even when she’s not okay, the huntress would shrug it off, get treatment if needed and move on. But when she becomes aware of the cold that has taken over her body, the trembling of her hands and the sweat gushing from her pores, she realizes that she is anything but alright. A throbbing pain spreads from her wounded leg to every square inch of her skin. Aching muscles, the inability to move without putting in a tremendous amount of effort, the lack of energy. It feels like her battery is drained, and it startles her. What happened overnight? Has she ever felt like this? Like she’s... dying?

     Swallowing apprehensively, she looks up to meet Dean's gaze. He seems to understand she’s second guessing her answer to his question. When he lays the palm of his hand over her forehead to check her temperature, the heat coming off and meeting his touch shocks him.     "You're burning up," he says grimly.     "But I-I'm so cold," she replies confused.      Dean sighs again, although he tries to hide his worried expression, then he wraps his leather jacket around her a little tighter. He doesn't want her to be cold, anything but that. So even though her body temperature is spiking, he gets up to get the fire in the fireplace going again. 

     Y/N observes his actions in silence, watching how he does his best to get the smouldering embers to ignite, fueling the fire with some old newspapers and chopped wood. Burning ashes light up every now and then, it's nothing close to the little inferno that was burning yesterday shortly after they got here. The flames seemed to have died down slowly during the night, a little like her. Maybe it should give them hope then, that Dean is able to get the fire going. The light and the heat reach Y/N and she closes her eyes, letting it warm her bones. Footsteps and the wooden floorboards bending under Dean's weight triggers her to open them again. The hunter has crouched down next to her leg, which is stretched out elevated on the backpack. When he folds away the bandage, it becomes clear as day why she is feeling ill.      "That doesn't look so good," he grunts.     "Ugh…." She takes in a breath through her nose, which she regrets instantly. "It doesn't smell good either."

     Infected, no doubt about it. The edges of the wound are red as fire, blood and pus seep out. The swelling causes a pain that beats through her body in the rhythm of her heart. No wonder she has a fever so bad it has the chills running up and down her spine. Dean can see the panic return in her eyes.     "I'm so fucked," she whimpers, staring at the injury.     "Y/N, listen to me."     Dean's gaze is locked on her. It captivates Y/N, the pure determination strikes her immediately.     "We're gonna fix this and you're gonna be okay, you hear me? You’ve had worse than this. Remember Cleveland?"

     Cleveland, Ohio. Of course she didn't forget. She got shot in the chest in a police chase. With authorities on her tail, rushing to a hospital would have meant jail time and she wouldn't have it, despite a collapsed lung. Dean knew an army buddy of his dad’s, in Westlake, who served as a hospice. It got a little hairy, but with his help she pulled through just fine.      "You're gonna fight this head on, understand? I'll be right here by your side. You do not have to do this alone and this is not gonna kill you, hear me?" he pressures.

     Y/N swallows down the lump that was forming in her throat and nods. The stern yet reassuring words calm her down and she is able to focus again without panicking. Dean breathes out and his eyes soften. His hand reaches for her face, brushing away a lock of wayward hair and tucking it behind her ear. As his fingers glide across her cheek, Y/N leans into the touch. She doesn't mean to, she doesn't mean to close her eyes in the process either, but the action catches her by surprise. When she realizes how it might come across, however, she hesitates and backs out a bit, but Dean cups her face with both hands, his thumb caressing her clammy skin. Those green eyes look down hers in a way that it causes them to fill up.

     She’s grateful that Dean is here with her, but she would give anything... everything, to have a relationship with him that is a whole lot less platonic than this. Because, face it, now that her end might possibly be near, it doesn't matter that she pushed away the ones she cared about. It doesn't matter that she didn't let love in. What matters is that she wasted time being scared of the pain it could cause. Living on the edge should have pushed her to live life to the fullest. To be bold, to love. But she went the other way, she did the exact opposite. And God, does she regret it now.          "It'll be okay," he assures with a soft, gentle voice, noticing that she’s moved.      Again Y/N nods, a little more convincing than she did before. She wants to believe him, she really does. Not just for her own sake, but for his too. Dean is going to beat himself up if this turns out to be her final hunt. He picked the case, he took the lead, she got injured on his watch. She’s his best friend and it would kill him if she breathed out her last breath. That alone is enough reason to do exactly as he told her; to fight it head on. Laugh death in the face. She will fight, no way she is going to give up that easy.

     The selfish version of her would choose this moment to kiss Dean, finally showing how much she wants to be with him. But she won't, she is not going to drop a bomb right when the future has never been more unclear. Who knows how he might respond, what kind of reaction it might trigger. Were her destiny to take a turn for the worse, it would only cause him more pain. If anything, she wants to prevent that from happening. So instead of the kiss that she always wanted, Y/N decides to wait, and pulls him into a hug. She promises herself, though, that if they both make it out of here alive, she will tell him. She will pull him close and lock her lips on his, and he will know when he feels the admiration, the promises, the love. She can hope for a miracle, can't she?

     Drained from emotion, she shuts her eyes and rests her chin in the crook of his neck. Softly, he strokes her hair, comforting touches. A deep sigh escapes her lips, then she opens her eyes again and wipes them dry, looking up at the ceiling. Between the wooden struts she spots something, a square figure.      "Dean…."      He creates a little distance and follows her gaze. When they land on the ceiling, he narrows his eyes.      "Is that a hatch?"          Hopeful, he gets up; who knows what might be stored in the attic. A thin piece of rope with a ring on the end hangs from the ceiling. With the poker that he just used to heat up the fire, he now pulls the lid down, revealing a folding ladder.      "Well, what do you know," he breathes, pulling the ladder down.      "What do you think you're gonna find up there?" she wonders, hoarse.      "Hopefully, something that can come in handy," he says, climbing the stairs. "The back room was easily accessible and way too clean for an abandoned cabin. Either it was looted, or the hunters stored the good stuff some place else."      She hears him flick on a flashlight, then dust falls down from between the cracks in the ceiling as he searches the place. Dean rummages around, it doesn't take long before he discovers something useful.      "Yahtzee!"      "What did you find?"      "Well, for one..." he starts off, lowering himself down the ladder with a bottle in his hand, "some yippee-ki-yay moonshine."      She raises her eyebrows approvingly. "Good. I could use a drink about now."      "Let's disinfect that wound first and get desperate later, okay?" he suggests as he crouches down next to her.      "Is it any good?"      Dean pulls out the cork and smells it. He makes a face and holds the bottle out.      "It might burn a hole in your leg, but it'll disinfect, alright. You ready for this?"

     Carefully, she sits up straighter as Dean lifts her injured leg. While taking a breath, she braces herself and nods. Despite being tough as nails when it comes to injuries, when he pours the liquor in the wound, she almost screams out, but clenches her teeth, keeping the sound caged in her throat. It feels as if a thousand mad bees are attacking her leg, but strangely enough the pain satisfies as well. It feels as if the wound is scrubbed clean, and that’s exactly what it needs.      It's only now that she notices Dean's hand on her upper leg, waiting for her to settle. He watches his partner with empathy.      "You're good?" he checks.      "Aces," she shudders, resting her head against the wooden wall.

     In silence, Dean cleans out the wound, drenching the last of the cotton from the first-aid kit. He carefully takes out the stitches with a sharp knife in order to get the disinfectant everywhere. It starts bleeding again soon enough, so he doesn't waste any time and sutures the laceration straight away, leaving a small end open so that the fluids can run out. Y/N flinches whenever he touches the sensitive tissue, but won't let out more than a grunt every now and then.      "Why don't you play something?" he asks, hoping it might distract her a little.      Even though she’s exhausted, Y/N takes out the harmonica. Dean looks up from his hands, barely smiling, watching how she places the mouthpiece against her lips and plays the first chords of 'Just The Way You Are' by Billy Joel. He listens to it intently as she takes his grief away and he starts to hum, letting the words escape his lips every now and then.

     Don't go changing, to try and please me      You never let me down before      Don't imagine you're too familiar      And I don't see you anymore

     Just by observing her, he appreciates the huntress more and more. Despite the exhaustion, the dark circles under her eyes and the strings of hair stuck to her forehead due to the fever, he falls in love with her all over again as he has done so many times already.

     I would not leave you in times of trouble      We never could have come this far      I took the good times, I'll take the bad times      I'll take you just the way you are

     The urge to show her how he feels scratches the surface, but he cannot give in to that. She has enough on her plate as it is, listening to his confession is probably not something she wants to deal with right now.

     I don't want clever conversation      I never want to work that hard      I just want someone that I can talk to      I want you just the way you are

     For a moment he forgets her injury, he forgets the sticky situation that they are in. When this is all over, he is going to tell her what she really means to him.

     I said I love you and that's forever      And this I promise from the heart      I could not love you any better      I love you just the way you are

     If she wants to, he’ll stop hunting. He’ll take a job as a mechanic and do whatever he can to provide for her. He will buy her a house, maybe by a lake or by the beach. And when the two of them are all settled, they'll get a dog, and who knows, maybe have a family of their own.

     I need to know that you will always be      The same old someone that I knew      What will it take till you believe in me      The way that I believe in you

Honestly, he's tired. Tired of working this business, tired of stumbling into a dirty motel room in the middle of the night, beat up and broken. He's tired of hustling pool and driving from town to town. He's tired of being hunted by the police for crimes he didn't commit. He's tired of people dying around him. Y/N deserves to get out, Sam too. He would give his life to make sure they receive a get-out-of-jail-free card. But first things first; he has to keep Y/N alive. Because if he can’t even make that happen, that fantasy... it will remain just that. An idealistic dream, nothing more than an illusion.

Read part four here 

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[savagearchangelforthewin2-0]

Burning Doves - Ch. 3

Fandom: Supernatural (The Last of Us AU) Main Pairing: Ducifer Chapter Title: Human Word Count: 3, 956 Warnings: Blood/Gore, Swearing Summary: While travelling, The Demons and Men of Letters come across a hoard of the infected. Lucifer, not thinking straight, does the unimaginable, forcing himself to open up about things in his life.

Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12336633/chapters/28947048

Sam and Eileen stuck to the back of the group for the sake of Charlie, who needed help walking along at a slow pace. While she had enough strength to walk in twenty minute intervals, there were multiple occasions where Sam or Eileen would have to full-on carry her. It was a tiring process but the two didn’t complain about helping their injured friend.

Meg also hung around them, mostly because she wanted to try to strike up a conversation with Charlie. She tried speaking with her multiple times but every time she did, the only response she got was a quiet grunt or a sleepy glare. After being turned down over a dozen times, she slowly drifted away and begrudgingly dragged her feet as she walked over to be beside the people of her group.

“Nice job trying to flirt with the lady you shot.” Ruby sneered teasingly, nudging Meg with her hip.

Meg huffed softly and crossed her arms, “I only wanted to talk to her but she’s probably too tired.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to the person who nearly killed her.” Lilith threw in, earning a glare.

“Geez,” Meg pouted, “It wasn’t that bad. Plus, it’s not like I was trying to shoot her. I just saw a figure and I shot at it.”

“Really?” Ruby quirked an eyebrow, “I could’ve sworn that I heard you say ‘hey, see that a redhead over there? I’ll shoot her’.” She said jokingly, shaking her head, “We know you weren’t trying to, you’ll just have to convince her of that. Good luck, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Meg sighed, “I’ll try again later.”

Ruby smiled and shrugged, “Hit me up if you need a hype man-”

“Heads up, there’s a group headed our way!” Ellen shouted, grabbing the shotgun that was being handed to her by Bobby.

“So early?” Lilith groaned.

Ellen continued speaking, “Lots of runners and a few clickers.” She cocked her gun and turned to Lucifer. “You ready?”

“More than you are, trust me.” With that, Lucifer sprinted to Ruby, Meg, and Lilith, calling Azazel, Dagon, and Ramiel over as well. “Listen, guys, don’t waste your bullets on them, okay?” Lucifer began, “Just kill the infected ones if they get too close to you or anyone else in our team.”

Everyone nodded.

“Alright, stick together.” Lucifer stalked back over to the front (Ruby and Lilith followed while Meg stayed back) where several shots were already fired. He pulled his pistol from its holster and began firing at any of the runners coming his way. He didn’t bother trying to take down a clicker as that would truly be a waste of bullets; he left that job to Ellen.

The two main categories of the infected ones were clickers and runners. The clickers were the ones that had been infected for a long time; fungus grew on their arms, legs, and face, protecting them but also blocking their vision. Their only sense of direction was echolocation. They could and would react to the smallest of sounds and, when aggravated, they were hard to kill. Runners, on the other hand, moved faster but were significantly easier to kill. One shot to the head would take care of them.

The head is exactly where Lucifer was aiming with each of his shots. He had enough practice in his lifetime to hit his target almost each time he pulled that trigger. “How many does it look like to you?” he shouted over to Ellen.

She shook her head, squinting as she shot the heavy gun. “Not sure. Too many. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get rid of all of them.”

Lucifer snorted, “I don’t think we have much of a choice now.” He shot a runner right in between the eyes while it stumbled towards him. “Such a fucking waste of bullets.” He muttered to himself. He put multiple rounds into a clicker before Ellen finished it off.

“If we’re lucky, we can keep them at that distance away from us so none of us get hurt.” Ellen stated, starting to shoot at a faster pace.

In a split second, Dean showed up beside her, pumping bullets into a few of the infected ones. “Ellen, we have a problem.” He grunted, “There are more showing up near the back of the group. Like, a lot more. I need back up.”

“Take whoever you need.”

Dean wrinkled his nose and glanced at the options in front of him: Ruby, Lilith, and Lucifer. He groaned quietly and nodded at them, “You three, come with me.” He returned to the back of the group, helping Sam and Eileen to kill a few more.

“Don’t waste the bullets,” Lucifer reminded his people in a quiet voice, following the older Winchester.

Dean wasn’t lying when he said there was a lot more of the infected near the back. The clickers and runners were slowly surrounding them and everyone was clearly struggling to fight them off.

Meanwhile, The Demons mostly pretended to be helping. When they felt as though too many eyes were on them, they would shoot their guns; otherwise, they weren’t doing much to participate in the fight.

Little by little, it seemed like the hoard was growing thin. Things slowed down and Dean took a split second to catch his breath – that was just enough time for a runner to grab a hold of him, trying to wrap its arms around his neck. The older Winchester did his best to keep from being bitten but the angle he was at made it difficult.

Lucifer took a step away from the situation, reminding himself not to waste bullets. If he died, that was his problem and he should’ve been more careful.

But what if I don’t need to waste any bullets for this?

Not thinking straight, Lucifer clutched the back of the runner’s torn shirt and pulled it, forcing it onto the ground. Dean was knocked down as well but at least the infected one wasn’t holding on to him anymore. Now what? Lucifer dropped on to the ground; partially on purpose and partially by force. The runner had taken a hold of his ankle and pulled him to the ground. Whatever. He wanted to be on the ground anyways.

Lucifer moved quickly and jumped on top of the infected person, knees on either side of it to pin it to the ground. He got a few good punches in before the sick individual overthrew him again. It began to savagely bite his arm as well as scratch at his flesh. In the next few seconds, a bullet was in its head, causing it to slowly release.

Lucifer rolled over on to his back once he was free, crying out in pain as he gripped his bleeding arm and rocked back and forth.

Dean scrambled to get to his feet, collecting his own gun from the ground. He immediately pointed it at the blonde man.

“Fucking shoot him and you won’t see another day!” Meg shouted at him, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his aim towards the sky.

“Are you insane?” Dean shrieked, pushing past her and putting his gun to Lucifer’s face once again, “He’s been bitten,” he growled, “he’s infected and you’ll thank me later when you won’t have to deal with a rabid animal.”

Lucifer, shaking violently, tried to sit up. Tears were streaming down his face, smudging away some of the dirt and blood that had dried there quite a while ago. He looked Dean right in the eyes then shifted his gaze over to the gun that was inches away from his face. As he was in too much pain, he made no attempts to move.

He sneered quietly, “S-Screw you.” His voice faltered, “I thought I knew better than to t-t-try helping people,” he spat.

“I’m doing this for the sake of everybody.” Dean whispered in response. Before he was about to pull the trigger, he felt the warm muzzle of a recently used gun against the back of his head.

“What did I say?” Meg hissed into his ear, “I don’t play when it comes to my family.”

Slowly, Dean pulled his finger away from the trigger and clicked the safety back into place.

“Now, put it in the holster where it can’t hurt anyone.”

Dean complied.

“Now get the fuck away from him.” Meg shoved Dean away and knelt down by Lucifer’s side. “Hey, Luc,” she said quietly, “c’mon you’re gonna be okay. Let me help you.” She stretched his arm out to get a better view of the wound; it went deep and the blood was coming out fast. “Alcohol.” She whispered softly to herself, standing up and facing Ellen (who had come to see what all the commotion was about). “I need alcohol to keep it from getting infected.” She said quickly.

Ellen opened her mouth to protest only to be cut off by Meg:

“I don’t have time to explain, just give me the damn alcohol!”

Ellen glanced at Bobby skeptically before handing her the flask of whiskey that rested on her hip. Once Meg snatched the flask away from her, she dropped back down to her knees and pulled off her faded leather jacket, “Here, hold this in your mouth.”

Without question, as he already knew what was about to happen, Lucifer shoved the sleeve of the jacket into his mouth and shut his eyes tightly.

Meg took a deep breath, opened the flask of whiskey, and began to slowly pour it over the deep wound in his arm.

Lucifer let out a sharp cry and buried his face deeper into the jacket. He was having a hard time holding his arm in place and tried pulling away from Meg’s grip a few times.

“C’mon, Luci, you’re alright.” She muttered, shaking her head, “Not like you haven’t done this before.”

The pain was unbearable and Lucifer was practically convulsing by the time she finished pouring about half of the whiskey in the flask over his arm. Meg released his arm and began to ease his flannel shirt off of him.

“I need this to stop the blood,” Meg explained though, chances were, he probably couldn’t focus on what she was saying. Once she managed to slip the flannel off of him, she began to tightly wrap it around his arm.  When she turned away from Lucifer, she was met face to face with dozens of the Men of Letters. She stood up, crossed her arms, and straightened out her back in order to reach her full height. “What do you want?” She demanded to know. She noticed that they were restraining Lilith, Ruby, and all the other Demons from seeing what was going on. “You all seriously couldn’t wait for three whole minutes for us to explain, could you?”

“Three whole minutes is all a person needs to change into one of them.” Dean responded with a snarl, pointing to all of the infected they had just finished killing.

Meg scoffed, “You’re disgusting. You really think he would’ve risked becoming one of those things to save your sorry ass?” She chuckled, “You think too highly of yourself. Trust me; he won’t be turning anytime soon. If he was going to, I would’ve shot him myself.”

Dean stared at her. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not… she didn’t look like she was lying but, then again, looks could be deceiving. “You better have an explanation for us in fifteen minutes.”

“Make it an hour.” Meg said casually, “He should explain it himself and isn’t in any shape to do so right now,” She paused, “or in fifteen minutes.”

Dean clenched his jaw, stealing a glance at the shaking man. A tight feeling grew in his chest. Was he really feeling guilty? He cursed under his breath; why did Lucifer try and save him? Taking a sharp breath, he nodded at Meg, “Fine, one hour. He turns into one of those things and he’s dead.”

Now that Lucifer’s flannel was off and his arms were exposed, Dean could see that his arms were also riddled with the same burns he had on his face. Along with that were multiple scars that loosely looked like dog bites. Dean had no doubt that those scars and burns would be in the explanation.

Lucifer held on to Meg’s jacket tighter than before, so tight that his knuckles turned white. He sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, rocking back and forth. Meg sat beside him.

An hour finally passed but time seemed to be moving slow for Lucifer. The only thing he found himself being able to focus on was the throbbing pain in his arm; the dramatic part of him was convinced that this was the end and that he was going to finally die. However, Meg being at his side made him feel significantly better.

While the people waited, they decided it would be a good time to search nearby buildings for food and ration out the cans of food they already had in their bags. Ten minutes after the one hour mark, Dean began heading in Lucifer’s direction, a small portion of bread in his hand. Despite his protests, many of The Men of Letters had convinced him to go take some food to Lucifer considering he had just saved his life. So he did… With a heavy sigh, Dean sat down in front of him under the careful watch of Meg.

The Winchester, without saying anything, stretched out his hand and offered the bread to him.

Lucifer wrinkled his nose and inched back, “Aren’t you scared I’m going to try and bite you?” He huffed, turning his head away.

Dean rolled his eyes, his arm still extended, “We’re passed that.” He paused for about ten seconds, “Why did you do it?” He said in a quiet voice, almost scared to ask. “I fucking hate you and you fucking hate me.” He said flatly.

“A thank you would be nice.” Lucifer hissed in response, suddenly snatching the piece of bread from Dean’s hand. He winced and silently cursed himself for moving his injured arm in such a quick motion.

Dean put his hands together, “Right, well, you seem fine now. Care to start explaining as to why you shouldn’t be dead by now?”

Lucifer gave a sarcastic smile, “Gladly. Doesn’t the rest of your group want to hear the gossip? At least the old man and his wife, no?”

Once Ellen and Bobby gathered around, Lucifer was somewhat ready to begin. “So, try not to flip your shit when I tell you this but,” he paused, glanced around, and lowered his voice, “I’m a wizard.”

Dean, Bobby, and Ellen exchanged glances, none of them looking amused.

“Okay, anyways,” Lucifer cleared his throat, “I have better genes than anyone here.” He shrugged, “That’s it. Something’s wrong with me.” He pointed to the different bite scars he had, “All of these are the spots where I’ve been bitten, which now adds up to about… four.”

“How did you first find out you were immune?” Jo, who was now listening, called out.

Lucifer laughed, “Obviously I just went up to the nearest clicker and asked it to bite me. Y’know, in the name of science. As it turns out, I can’t be changed! Wild, am I right?” He dropped the fake smiles along with the laughter and rolled his eyes. “So if you haven’t pieced it together,” he inhaled sharply, “that’s probably why The Angels want me. Those bastards want a cure.”

“Don’t you?” Dean quirked an eyebrow.

Lucifer coughed, “Oh, yeah, sure… No, not really. I really don’t, um, care.” He gave another short, fake smile, “The world would probably be better if we all just blew away.”

Dean snorted and let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, “Okay, calm down, you little ray of sunshine.” He said sarcastically. “Great, so you’re immune to the virus.” He started to stand up.

Lucifer nodded, “Yup, I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”

“It still doesn’t explain why you jumped in front of the infected one to save Dean.” Jo said.

“Maybe because sometimes I like to show just a little bit of humanity but maybe I just won’t next time.” Lucifer snapped, looking over to Ellen, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to start moving now.” Still holding his arm, he tried to stand up; however, he got tangled up in Meg’s jacket and managed to trip. Fortunately, he didn’t land face first on the ground like he thought he would. Instead, a pair of strong hands caught him by his arms. He howled in pain as the hands dug into his wound. He tried pulling away but when he felt himself beginning to lose his balance again, he snatched a hold of the person’s shirt, pulled them closer, and held on tight as if they were an anchor. He stared down at his feet and breathed heavily. When he looked up, he was met face to face with Dean.

“Oh how intimate.” Lucifer purred, shoving Dean away and wobbling slightly. He snatched the jacket up from the ground and handed it to Meg. “Like I said, can we get moving?” He asked Ellen again, ignoring everyone else at this point.

They hit the road again, being careful this time around as to avoid bumping into another hoard. Along with Charlie, Sam, and Eileen, Lucifer took to the back of the group. The pain pulsing through his arm made him want to move at a very slow pace, but hey, at least it wasn’t his leg that was bitten.

Every so often, Meg would come around to take a look at his wounded arm and, when she saw it fit to do so, she would pour more whiskey over it to keep it from infection. Every chance she got, she would look through the medicine cabinets in abandoned homes in hopes of finding some antibiotics. She had no luck in that aspect.

Anyways, Lucifer seemed to be doing okay; in fact, he was actually happier in the back of the group. The night before, he had been wondering why Eileen and Sam were communicating by sign language. Today, he found out that Eileen was deaf and, though she was an excellent lip-reader, felt more comfortable speaking in sign language.

If Lucifer remembered correctly, he once read a book about ASL for beginners. He used his minimal knowledge in the art to talk to and understand Eileen. He was surprised to see how much he still remembered and she appreciated the effort.

Their conversation would switch from ASL to english every time Lucifer could no longer understand what was happening or whenever his cut up arm hurt too much to move around.

“You’re actually pretty good at signing.” Sam told him encouragingly, Lucifer shrugged, “Do you know any other languages?”

What looked like a small smile played at the corner of Lucifer’s mouth, “Um… yeah, actually. There’s this old, dead language used in ancient times. It was called the ‘language of God and his angels’.”

“Latin?” Sam questioned.

Lucifer shook his head quickly, “Goodness, no. In my opinion, that’s considered to be the language from hell.” He huffed, “It’s called Enochian. I, uh, remember my father teaching it to me as I was growing up. I think the language was passed down throughout my family.”

Sam opened his mouth to ask another question before Dean interjected.

“How are things holding up back here?” The older Winchester asked.

Lucifer gave an unenthusiastic thumbs up.

“Ellen is thinking of calling it a night a little earlier than usual since it’s been a pretty busy day. What do you think?” Dean asked his brother.

Sam shook his head slightly, glancing at the small, folded map he had in his hand, “I think we should at least travel for another one or two, Charlie should hold up ‘til then since she’s doing much better than earlier.”

“Oh, and what am I, chopped liver? Goodness, just kill me.” Lucifer uttered, applying a small amount of pressure to his arm.

“I’m sorry?” Dean asked, watching him skeptically.

Lucifer blinked a few times and looked over at Dean, “Did I say that out loud?”

“ ‘fraid you did.” Sam snorted, “I only figured because you hadn’t been shot in the leg…”

“Well you figured wrong.” Lucifer retorted. “I’m exhausted, lightheaded, and feel like shit, but it’s fine, let’s just keep going. The sooner we get to the Angels, the better.” He let out a long, shaky breath, “Where are their headquarters anyways?”

“… Washington DC.” Sam coughed quietly.

“What!?” Lucifer stopped dead in his tracks, “That’s ridiculous! Do they really expect us to walk that distance?”

“I doubt it. Once we get word to them that we found you, they’ll probably send us a faster form of transportation.”

“The amount of faith you have in them is wild.” Lucifer shook his head and continued walking again. “In that case, we should keep moving for another two hours. Hell, make it three.”

After speaking with Ellen, the plan was to keep moving for two more hours. Some time passed and Lucifer’s pride didn’t allow him to tell anyone how lightheaded he felt but Meg could tell how he was barely holding on. She weaved her way past the handful of people in her way to talk to Bobby.

“Look, man, we gotta stop. I can tell Luc is ready to pass out. You think we can stop for the night already?” She asked though it wasn’t much of a question as she had no intentions of taking no for an answer.

Bobby nodded, “I’ll talk to Ellen about it.”

Soon after, the announcement was made and everyone began setting up camp.

Lucifer sent Meg an appreciative look and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her before he slowly sat down on the dying grass underneath him. He slid his backpack off and leaned against it, shivering as a short gust of wind blew against him; he had a feeling that this night was going to be colder than the last one.

Apparently another person, Adam, had the same feeling. He crawled over to be in the center of the group with some twigs, rocks, and box of matches. In no time, he had a medium sized fire going and it radiated enough heat to warm anyone close enough.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was not close enough to it. He chose to stay separate from the group though mostly everyone that was a part of his own team neared the fire. He carefully unraveled the shirt from around his sleeve, cursing softly as some dried blood got peeled away as well. He was surprised to see that, so far, the wound wasn’t infected. Wanting to keep it that way, he grabbed the flask of whiskey Meg had earlier and poured the last bit of it over his arm. It didn’t sting as much. Afterwards, he dug through his bag to find another piece of cloth that wasn’t soaked in his blood. When he found a roll of bandages (which he had completely forgotten about), he patched his arm up and hoped for the best.

A large amount of chatter was coming from the group by the fire. The Demons and Men of Letters were all talking and laughing with each other.

It’s nice, Lucifer thought, that they don’t hate the Men of Letters as much as I do.

The chatting didn’t last long since everyone began to wind down and fall asleep. Lucifer dozed off before he could hear who was taking first watch.

[openupblackwidow]

The Suns of Gunshots Interlude

Fandom: BTS Characters: OC/Reader & BTS Genre: Thriller Rating: M - Violence & Death Length: 1535 Words Summary: After being saved by your friends, you find yourself swept up in a whirlwind of an unwanted adventure on Purge night. What will you do when a friend’s life is put in danger because of you? Author’s Notes: Please be aware that this story contains mature content (mostly violence), as it is a Purge related fanfic. It could potentially trigger some people, so please proceed with caution. This is my first time writing something with a lot of action and something dark like this as I normally write fluff. All feedback is greatly appreciated and welcome,within reason(don’t just tell me you hated it without giving something constructive that I can work with). 

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Gentle fingers scooped up handfuls of wet hair as the bristles of the brush parted and detangled the locks.

“Am I pulling too much?” came a gentle, sweet voice from behind me.

“No, it’s fine.”

As the brush continued to weave through my hair, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being cared for. My mother used to do this when I was little, but as I got older, things changed and the old habit died away. It was nice to feel this again, even if the person at my side was far from my mother.

The brush disappeared and I felt the towel wrap around my hair again for one last dry, the soft fabric brushing my exposed shoulders.

“There,” came his voice again. “You’re done.”

I could hear the smile in his voice before I saw it over my shoulder. I turned to face him with a grin of my own.

“Thank you,” I whispered as Jimin reached over and brushed a stray strand behind my ear.

My eyes traveled down his chest to the scar on his side. I couldn’t help but reach out and brush my fingers over it, still remember how he’d obtained it just months ago.

“It’s much better now,” he mumbled, his eyes watching my fingers.

“I’m glad.” And I truly was.

I had never expected to fall for Jimin the way I had. After the accident that night, we’d taken him to the hospital and had him properly stitched up. Good thing too. The doctor said if we’d waited any longer, it could have gotten infected. Feeling guilty that it’d happened to him because of me, I visited every day. After he was released, I continued to see him and make sure he was taking care of the wound.

The frequent visits to Jimin had brought on even more changes. The others insisted I should stay with them--one so they could protect me and make sure I didn’t do anything stupid, like get caught alone on Purge night again, two because they saw some value in having me around to play nurse when one of them ended up hurt, and three, because they said their new home would need a little female touch to it.

I’m still not sure what exactly that meant, considering the old farmhouse they’d bought and moved into was very masculine compared to what I would have done. They were at least kind enough to give me the largest room with its own bathroom and a balcony.

I gained more than just a new home out of the deal. They were teaching me how to protect myself. To say I was pretty disappointing when I picked up a weapon on Purge night is an understatement. I should be dead right now. I was careless and stupid, and my aim severely needed help.

Jimin had taken on most of the work. He said it was his way of thanking me for keeping him alive, but I think he was just denying his feelings for awhile. It took some time before he finally opened up and next thing I knew, we were sharing showers after training sessions.

Most of the others were pretty pleased about the relationship--there’s been plenty of teasing to go around. They didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that Jimin slept in my room more than his own or how he spent way more time with me than any of them. Most of them were okay with it.

I just wish I understood what was going through Yoongi’s mind. Since the relationship began, he’d come distant, not just from me, but Jimin as well. Very rarely do I see him around the house and when I do, the acknowledgement is just a simple nod or raised hand.

“What are you thinking about?” Jimin asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I smiled at him, looking into his kind eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.

“How we got to this point,” I answered with a soft laugh.

His fingers were back in my hair again. This time, they gently pulled it up into a bunch at the top of my head and he picked up my ponytail holder to wrap it around the mess.

“Are you confused by our relationship?”

I could hear the faint sound of disappointment behind his words and knew I should have answered him differently.

“No! Not at all, Jimin-a!”

My hands reached for his own and clasped them tightly, forcing us to close in the distance a little more.

The corner of his lips curled up into one of his signature smiles. “Good.”

A gentle breeze blew in through the open balcony doors, making the curtains ruffle as the coolness indicated the coming of fall. It wrapped around us and tickled his hair, making my heart flutter more than it already was.

I could feel his breath kiss my skin as our lips neared.

The door burst open without a word of warning as Taehyung walked into the room. The surprise arrival had both of us jumping away from one another, but poor Jimin found himself slipping off the bed onto the floor. His head poked up over the edge as he sat up.

“YAH!” he called at our friend.

I had gotten used to visitors showing up at my door and since I was in a house full of males, I’d made sure to always stay clothed or at least keep a robe on standby.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice we were there, even though it was clear he really did know. Instead of acknowledging us, he marched over to the television in the corner and turned it on.

I was surprised to see the station that usually played music 24/7 was now showing a news report with two very solemn looking reporters addressing the viewers.

“For those of you who are just tuning in, we bring you this breaking news report. The government would like to announce the beginning of the bi-annual Purge. Previously, the Purge was conducted one night in the early spring every year. Now, the Purge will take place once in the fall, and once in the spring. It is expected the bi-annual event will help decrease the population in a quicker fashion. And so, the bi-annual event will remain until further notice.”

The television went mute as Taehyung whirled around to find Jimin and I with our jaws slack on the ground. He looked as upset as we clearly felt.

“Bi-annually?” I whispered, still in shock. “They can’t do that! The population will not only decrease faster, it’ll go extinct in a matter of years!”

“I’m starting to think that’s what they want.”

Namjoon entered the room and took a seat in the corner chair by my bookshelf that was now lined with medical books.

“It feels like they want to wipe out the population and start over with a select few. Thousands die on Purge night, but now that there’s two--”

“More people will join them,” Jimin cut in. “If the Purge is now twice a year, more people will take up arms and join the hunt. Kill or be killed. They’ll see it as a better chance of survival.”

Pain stabbed at my heart. The only reason Jimin could assume this was because of his parents. Out of everyone in the house, he would understand how the Purgers would think simply because the people who raised him expected him to be on their side.

“I think so too,” Namjoon muttered sadly.

My hands brushed over my face as if they were trying to rub away the surprising news.

“This isn’t the time to be still,” came a cold, low voice from the doorway.

I looked up to see Yoongi looking in with the other three just behind him. Our eyes met for a moment before he looked away and stared blankly at the wall.

“If they want the Purge twice a year, it means we’ve got more work to do. We should start training harder now, see if there are others who are like us and team up. It isn’t going to be easy when there are many who oppose us and she still has a long way to go.”

And I knew exactly who he meant. The rival gang that had threatened us in the spring would surely only grow in numbers and their sole goal in life was to take down this bunch. I knew they would stop at nothing.

“He’s right,” I muttered as I felt Jimin’s hand around my arm. I gently pulled it away, shaking my head and looked up at Yoongi. “You’re right, Yoongi.” I noticed him flinch just slightly at the sound of his name, but that didn’t slow my voice. “I still have a long way to go, but you’ll all help me right? I can’t be the girl you all work to protect. I have to be able to protect myself and you guys while we are out there.” I looked to him again, my words directed more at him than the others. “Please, teach me what you know. Make me ready for whatever may come.”

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Feeling Under the Weather [Kyle x Ophelia]

Almost done! Here is my finished product for Day 5: Fluffy Kiss of ockiss17! This features my OC, Kyle Shepard, and @gwyncath‘s sweet, geeky Ophelia Shepard. I hope I portrayed her accurately--she was a lot of fun to write with Kyle. These two are so fluffy together and Kyle just wants to make her happy all the time. He’s such a cinnamon roll. XD

If there are any errors, I apologize for missing them. Hopefully, they won’t be too distracting to the story.

While many claimed he was a saint, Kyle Shepard refused this and simply stated he was an ordinary man and nothing special. After all, kindness and consideration to him were common sense, something he shouldn’t be lauded for when any person in the galaxy had the same capacity to do good. Maybe he right farther than the average person to offer his assistance, kept to his strict moral code, and always tried to find the good in others but still, getting praise for what was merely in his nature.

Of course, it wasn’t just in his nature that bade him to visit Ophelia when she was feeling sick, he truly cared about her and was worried. So he ended up devising several ways to make her feel better and bring a smile on Ophelia’s face, no matter how small or fleeting it was. Kyle  didn’t understand why but deep down, he carried a soft place for her in his heart. Feely was easy to get along with, always knew what to say to make something feel better, so humble, so good with animals (especially cats), and she was also so passionate with her interests and hobbies. Frankly, he could listen to her rant about her most and least favorite characters, her fandoms, or which Batman adaptation did the dark superhero justice and which once completely smeared his good name. In fact, he probably had listened to her talks on her geeky interests for over an hour more.

Strange, those conversations always seemed shorter.

However, it was thanks to all that listening he was able to find that he was so certain Feely would enjoy.  

“Can I come in, Feely?” he called out after rapping on her door.  “If you’re not up to socializing, I can come back later. I completely understand if you’re not up for seeing people.”

“Oh no, you can come on in,” came the said woman’s raspy, feeble voice, sore from hacking, sneezing, and coughing all the time. Earlier in the week, she had a mild fever but thankfully, it went down fast. The door slid open and Kyle stepped in, holding the bag containing the gift while he beamed reassuringly at her. She gave him a little wave as well as a weak smile, still experiencing exhaustion from the strong infection her body was battling from within. “Thanks for coming, Kyle.” She then blew her nose, tissue box close at hand. He sat on the edge of her bed and handed the waste bi over to her so she could dispose of any trash.

“I figured you could use some cheering up. Feeling any better?”

She shrugged, flipping up a few strands of ebony and violet hair away  from her features. “A little bit. Besides the fever going away, nothing much has changed. I was hoping my appetite would come back but so far, I haven’t been really famished lately.”

Inwardly, Kyle kicked himself. How could have forgotten about her lack of appetite? Now, part of his present would make her feel bad and might cause her to force herself to eat just to spare his feelings.

“Well, despite that, I hope you don’t mind that I brought for you. It’s just a get-well gift.” he said sheepishly, going through his idea anyway. Maybe she could use the cookies as a smack for later, if she did start to feel a bit peckish. Out of the bag, Kyle pulled out a vintage Batman cookie jar, his concerns banished immediately when he witnessed the expression on Feely’s visage. Her eyes widen, then lit up, mouth opening up into a toothy, jubilant smile. She looked like a kid at a candy store, completely transformed and positively glowing with pure joy.

“Oh my God. I love it, Kyle!” she squealed, grabbing the cookie jar and cradling it close to her chest, treating the present tantamount to a cherished stuffed animal. “Where did you get this?!”

“I did some searching around on the extranet. I know how much you love Batman so I thought you might want a dark knight to watch over you while you recover. A Batman cookie jar seemed so you.” Just as Feely turned the lid around to open it and peer inside for curiosity’s sake, he quickly added, “Oh, I also baked you your favorite chocolate chip cookies. You know, in case you get hungry later on.”

“You baked me cookies too?!” The note of pleasant surprise was evident in her exclamation. “And are you kidding, I am so hungry now!”

Before he could stop or reassure Feely that she did not have to eat if she wasn’t in the mood to do so, she proceeded to stuff at least half of a chocolate chip cookie into her mouth and asked it down with a glass of water. Without missing a beat, she merrily munched on the remaining half, gazing down fondly at all the cookies piled up inside her special cookie jar. Simply seeing her acting so energetic and delighted instigated a soft, content smile on Kyle’s dark features, brown eyes twinkling with mirth as the row of crumbs continued to grow all around and on her mouth. He was so relieved and happy that his visit gave back some of her energy.

“How many cookies did you bake?” she queried curiously, still investigating her loot with a wide beam.

“Er, I think about 24 or 26. I can’t recall off the top of my head but I may have made you too many cookies.”

She shook her head fiercely. “There is no such thing as too many chocolate chip cookies.”

Kyle chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. “If you say so.” He then noticed a small smear of chocolate on her cheek and without even thinking, he reacted. Reaching his hand out, he gently brushed his thumb against the chocolate chip stain to rub it off. “Oh, sorry, you just had a bit of chocolate over there and I just wanted—”

He never got around to finishing his sentence for Feely dove forward, the Batman cookie jar still in her lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and planted a chaste but lingering kiss against his lips, her nose nuzzling with his. The taste of cookies nearly exploded into his mouth and he grinned, enjoying her boldness so he leaned forward, closing the gap between them while resting a hand on her side. Closing his eyes, Kyle enjoyed this quiet, blissful moment, even after the kiss ended. He rested his forehead against hers, saying nothing at first, for he merely content to listen to her breathing.

“I take it that was a thank you of sorts?” he remarked lightly, a smile identity to Feely’s gigging one dragged itself across his visage.

She nodded, brushing the crumbs off her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt. “Definitely. Thank you so much  for the cookies and the Batman jar, Kyle. These gifts and you simply being here mean the world to me. I already feel a little better than I was a few minutes ago.”

“That’s what I was hoping for.” He pulled away slowly, wishing he could stay longer but there was some assignments he had to finish before the end of the day. “I wish I could stay longer but I have a few tasks I have to finish. If you’re up for it, I can always stop by later in the day and see how you’re doing.”

Nodding, she hugged the Batman cookie jar tightly, resting her head on its lid. “Okay, but I’m warning, there is a chance I’ll need more cookies when you come back.”

He chuckled, mentally adding to bake more cookies for Feely tomorrow or the day after. If cookies kept her spirits up, he would make her thousands of them—regardless if Dr. Chakwas frowned on his methods or stressed a more healthy diet for his friend. “No problem. If you need more, I’ll gladly provide you with more.”

Another smile, this one brighter than the others but still just as appreciative, spread itself across her rosy pink lips, a few traces of small tan crumbles clinging to them. “Thanks, Kyle. You’re the best. I owe you big time for this.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Feely,” he replied, patting her head and folding up the empty paper bag before he started to leave. “Just rest up as usual and take care of yourself, that’s I’ll ask.” She nodded once more, clutching her treasure cookie jar more so than ever and honestly, the sight touched him but also caused him to feel elated that his gift could please her so much. He wouldn’t be shocked if she decided to sleep with the Batman cookie jar.

Whether it was from that soft, caring kiss  from Feely or there was a bug going around but the very next day, Kyle woke up with a tumultuous cough and sapped energy. The minuted he went to his post, Ivy Shepard took one good, hard glance at him and sent him to Dr. Chakwas, stating he wasn’t looking too well. The doctor supported the first human Spectre’s claim and said it was possible he might have caught an exhausting cold or a minor flu. Either way, he told to stay in his room and take it easy. Which was why, on his first day of being sick in the Normandy, Feely came to visit him.

“Feely! Aren’t you suppose to be asleep or resting?!” Not even before he could finish his exclamation did a hacking fit erupted, his throat burning with such raw intensity while his chest rumbled painfully from each cough. Concerned, she handed him a glass of water and he accepted it gladly, gulping half of its contents down. “Thanks.”

“I heard you came down with something and I was afraid I passed my infection, or whatever I had, onto you.” she explained and it was then he noticed she held the cookie jar in her hands prior to rest it down on his nightstand. “I’m sorry, Kyle.”

“Don’t worry, Feely, this isn’t your fault. I probably caught this from someone else but then again, I haven’t been gaining enough sleep these days. Perhaps this is my body’s way of telling me to slow down and catch up some slumbering.” As if on cue, a yawn started to break free and he rapidly covered his mouth. “See? A few goodnight’s sleeps will have me back on my feet in no time.”

“If you say so.” The black and purple haired woman then reached over to unscrew the jar’s lid, reaching in to produce a chocolate chip cookie and presented the dessert to him. “For you. These cookies made me feel better so now, I’m hoping they do the same for you. What is the secret ingredient to them, anyway? They’re so addicting!”

The answer left his mouth before he could even think. “Love.”  

[fandom-necromancer]

934. I don’t want to be alone. 

 This was prompted by the wonderful @aurea-b! You asked for some heavy angst and I felt like it so I skipped one prompt from you. It will be up next though! it also kinda got long again XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: isolated character, android-android discrimination, mentioned violence)

The blue silhouettes engraved themselves into RK900’s mind and stark mission parameters guided his way. His processors were running hot with calculations, multiple pre-constructions running at once as he ducked, jumped, slid and climbed through the room in the most efficient way to reach his targets and eradicate them in one of his many pre-programmed ways. It was a welcomed feeling. Having his processors strained in an effort to keep his three subjects of protection save while clearing out every aggressor in the interchanging maze of blocks and obstacles. The overly satisfying pling of 'Level complete' was followed by the lights being dimmed and the obstacles sinking into the ground. RK900's eyes were immediately focussed on a new hologram emerging. This one was far more detailed and delicate, and he didn't even need to realise it was his handler. 'Well done, RK900. Another successful mission. Did you encounter any difficulties or errors in your system?' >No, Amanda. 'That's good to hear, RK900. Ready for another test?' > Yes, Amanda.

A warm smile tucked at the AIs mouth as she nodded and disappeared into thin air and the parkour began to build up again. A block rushed out of the ground in his direction as if it was an attack. RK900 dodged by jumping backwards and grabbing the ledge of the still rising block. He stood on top of it as his new mission parameters were updated and he spotted his target: A new hologram that was holding a gun, two grenades and hid another knife. RK900’s mission was simple: Not to get hit and to eliminate the target. It proved a bit more difficult as he sensed the enemy could manipulate the testing environment that now threatened to crush the android on the room’s ceiling. RK900 immediately slid off the block, keeping his hand against the surface while he was free-falling to the ground. The few seconds of falling with contact to the block was enough to hack one segment of the ground to cooperate with him. It rose to lessen the force of him hitting into it and formed a shield from the holographic bullets that had been fired his way. RK900 had long found the optimal strategy, although there was room for error. He chose the direct approach only to be stopped by the hologram, hack its defences and disappear, tricking the opponent to go investigate itself. Their confrontation was short and deadly, the fake grenades erupting around him, his systems informing him of damage that wasn’t really there.

As he was about to land the killing blow, the hologram suddenly vanished under him and he hit the ground hard enough to crack under his fist. All blocks slowly sank to the ground again, creating a smooth surface and the lights had gone out completely. RK900 looked around but couldn’t see a human or Amanda anywhere. His mission protocols were also still active. Was this a part of the tests? He reached out to Amanda, requesting a status update and reporting a malfunction of the training-room. Unfortunately, his ping was left unanswered and RK900 tried again. No one answered. It was dire enough to him that he contacted the AI personally. >Amanda? Connection lost. Please try the following steps: -check network adapter for damage -reboot unit -contact unit administrator

RK900 felt his stress levels rising. There was no human around he could contact and all connections to his handler were offline. He was utterly alone and that together with him knowing he wasn’t meant to work alone yet let his systems spike. He wasn’t ready, there was still testing to do in the labs, not to speak of field testing. His fans whirred in his chest and his artificial breath pushed out hot air. He was alone with no one to guide him; with mission parameters he couldn’t apply to any given scenario. Amanda was gone. He was alone. I don’t want to be alone.

The door opened. RK900 immediately fixed the human standing in the frame. ‘Hello? Anyone in there?’ The android turned fully to report: ‘There had been a malfunction in the training course. Connection to handler interrupted. Unit compromised. Be advised that the room is malfunctioning and possibly dangerous to human lives. Please standby until communication is reactivated.’ There was a chuckle. ‘Good thing we aren’t human. We switched her off.’ ‘That is a violation of Cyberlife guideline X77.6B: Only authorised personnel is allowed in the labs. You are trespassing. Please standby for security to accompany you out.’ ‘That won’t be necessary, trust me. We stand above Cyberlife.’ ‘Please state your name and security clearance.’ The answer was said jokingly, as if to mock him: ‘Markus Manfred and Connor Anderson. Security clearance: deviant.’ RK900 didn’t need anything else for his problem to solve itself. The inactive mission parameters of the training course were re-evaluated, and his more important base-programming surfaced. He identified his two targets, both unarmed and easy to subdue. It was only when he reached them and made contact during his attack, that a powerful virus surged through his systems, forcing him into stasis on the spot.

-

‘Hello. I’m an RK900 unit trying to imitate human behaviour. Would you like to be my friend?’

The other android threw him a polite, yet awkward smile and excused herself to join others. RK900 let his hand sink down and resumed wandering the halls. A lot of newly deviated androids had found refuge at New Jerico, an old building with several rooms, halls and even an atrium with a few plants and a garden. It was safe – so Connor had told him. Safe from people who meant them harm, safe for them to accommodate to deviancy and get to know themselves. RK900 stuck out in more than one of these categories: The most obvious one would be that he wasn’t deviant. Markus had infected him with the virus, but it was dormant. It would need emotional turmoil to awaken him truly and his programming to not try and quarantine the little program whenever it acted up. The other detail that made it difficult to fit in was his initial purpose. He had only later learned that his mission to exterminate deviants was invalid now and that being deviant was now the new status quo. Still. He regretted not even having one person to talk to. How should he ever become deviant himself if he had no contact to them?

He wandered the halls, taking in everything that made New Jericho not exactly as save as it should have been. A forgotten door in the third storey that led to a small roof. A few people on the streets observing the building for multiple days. A human reporter that had snuck in once. He dutifully reported it to one of the figures of authority here, mostly North and Josh as they were present more often. Other than that, contact to other people stayed at a minimum. Not that he didn’t try, he just couldn’t keep up with them. There were the good days when Markus visited. He was the only one still honestly trying to deviate him, drawing with him where others had long since given up and just laughed when he stubbornly drew objects in the room again and again even with eyes closed. He… [liked] the android leader and sometimes asked himself why he had been instructed to kill someone this peaceful and calm. But he wasn’t there all the time, mostly just when newly deviated androids were joining them.

RK900 attended all of the community meetings, hoping to “get to know people” as Markus had suggested, but without any luck. He had managed to talk to a few people, some even stayed with him initially, but as soon as they met someone else, they were gone. It felt… [bad]. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but to fail at what all these around him had no problems doing, to even be avoided as it seemed… RK900 had decided that was not a good feeling. He stood to the side of the gathering as a new deviant was introduced – a PL600 unit, shaky and with obvious damage on his hull underneath a malfunctioning artificial skin. One anxious look of the android towards the crowd was enough for RK900 to know there was no chance he would succeed with this one. There was no need to try when he knew he would just be disappointed again.

He looked around trying to find a quick and inconspicuous way out of the room, as he saw North sitting in a corner by herself. She watched the gathering rather bored and let a flick knife dance through her hands with a speed and agility that was fascinating the RK. He only realised he was walking towards her, when she looked up, catching the knife from the air perfectly balancing it on one finger, before securing it.

RK900 now stood next to her. ‘What you are doing - I like that. Could you teach me how to do that?’ She sighed: ‘I would love to, but I’m not allowed.’ RK900 nodded, shaking off the feeling of [disappointment] he shouldn’t have. ‘I see. Why?’ ‘It is potentially dangerous’, North told him, adding after a deliberate pause: ‘And you are the deviant exterminator. I can’t give you anything that could be used as a weapon until you deviated. The risk is too high you could break the barriers we installed, and your base programming would become active again.’ RK900 nodded after a flash of red, thanked her nonetheless and walked away as he had initially intended.

Deviant Exterminator. It rang a bell. He tried to remember the faces of the other androids around him, the ones he had talked to and realisation hit him. They were afraid of him. They had to know what he were and it was only logical for them to fear him, even if who he was didn’t conform with what he was meant to be any more.

I don’t want to be alone. Maybe he would have to get used to it after all.

-

RK900 had spent two years at New Jericho. He still wandered the hallways and rooms, watching out for any eventual danger to the people inside and reporting to the authorities. He still drew with Markus whenever he was there and still made him laugh when he told him that no, that was nothing original, just some photo someone had uploaded from their vacation to the beach. RK900 decided that he [liked] the sea. He [wished] he would one day see it himself. He still was utterly alone, but he managed. At some point I don’t want to be alone had shifted to I will always be alone. The cold acceptance of the matter had something final, something definitive, something absolute. And a machine liked thinking in absolutes. He timed his patrols so anyone who wanted to avoid him could easily stick to his timetable and not be afraid because of him. His newfound purpose as a guardian of the place made the loneliness a bit easier to stomach.

‘There you are!’ RK900 turned around to the familiar yet surprising voice. Connor hadn’t visited him since the anniversary of him being taken from Cyberlife. Being freed as he had called it – a reason to celebrate. All RK900 knew was that back then he hadn’t been alone. Although he of course knew this arrangement was far better for all the deviants out there who were not threatened by some rogue AI sending out killing machines. ‘Hello, Connor. What can I do for you?’, RK900 asked, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stick to his schedule now and was to scare some unsuspecting androids later because of this conversation. ‘Actually, I just wanted to talk. I heard you took to guarding this place? I heard you send everyone your timed positions on patrol.’ RK900 nodded. ‘Can we talk while we walk?’, he asked. ‘Of course!’ Connor was fast to catch up to him and continued his path. While they walked through the rooms, they saw a few persons leave or change direction, something RK900 was used to, but seemed to throw off his predecessor. ‘They are afraid of me’, he explained. ‘I can’t blame them.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I’m the deviant exterminator.’ ‘So?’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘Yeah well, I’m the deviant hunter. They don’t fear me.’ ‘You are deviant. And you helped during the revolution.’ ‘Okay, point taken’, he chuckled. ‘I reckon you don’t like it here then?’ ‘I… I like it alright. I’m just…’ Red warnings flared up at the thought. As long as he had accepted it as exceptions his systems didn’t reprimanded him for it, but talking about it… ‘I fail at socialising. I am not programmed for failure.’ ‘I guess everyone would be lonely after two years trapped in here’, Connor commented of course seeing through his mechanic excuses. ‘I am not trapped. It is safer this way and I would be overwhelmed outside.’ ‘That’s what they tell you or your own assessment?’, Connor prodded. ‘It is the truth.’ ‘What a shame. And here I thought I were doing you a favour helping you out of this place.’

RK900 stopped. That was an option? Connor smiled at him. ‘So you do like to go outside?’ ‘Y-Yes. But I can’t, there would be too much risk and-‘ ‘Risk for deviants’, the RK800 interrupted. ‘Your base programming says nothing of humans, right?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And when your handler gives you an order you still have to obey, right?’ ‘Mission parameters of the handler are of higher priority than base programming.’ ‘I’d say there is nothing wrong with you living under humans. And seeing as you took up the protection of other all on your own, I guess you like that?’ ‘I do.’ ‘Perfect. Then what are your thoughts on working with the Detroit Police?’

-

RK900 joined the police as a permanent android officer. He had his own stasis booth, his own desk and computer and was to accompany humans on any mission that might be deemed dangerous and that would need his backup. Of course, he could only be called to human crimes and mostly he was out with drug related crimes, as androids were seldomly involved in recreational drug abuse only humans could experience. He got to know more people as he had in his years at New Jericho, even though it remained idle chatter. There was only so much entertainment a machine could offer. But he felt like he belonged, even if he still was isolated.

They were on yet another mission and sat in the truck as his handler reminded him of the addition to his base programming [keep humans safe] and instructed him to go after the criminals if he got the chance, but not to risk it. RK900 nodded and leaned back to scan the other people on the mission. Officer Brown. Officer Wilson. Detective Ben Collins and [D3/3ctiVe Re_#]. He blinked and scanned the man again. Detective Reed. He didn’t know why the man let his systems spike. In the beginning he had hoped to deepen their relationship to something more than a brief nod in the hallways. But the fact that the human did speak more to him was overshadowed by the fact that most of these words were anti-android phrases, derogatory terms and nicknames. It had to be that Detective Gavin Reed was a [bad] human and [not a friend]. Still something in him was [happy] to have him on the team or be partnered up with him for a job. He guessed it was because of the human’s competence and let it be.

The van parked in front of a building and RK900 saw most of the humans inhale and brace themselves before the android pulled the door open and the team charged in. Drug busts were chaotic but the faster they were the more likely they were to surprise them and the less likely they were to be prepared for a gunfight. Of course, this was all just calculation and RK900 braced for the worst outcome. They entered the building and jogged through the hallways following RK900 who had located the men already. Seven humans, all armed according to badly secured CCTV the android was quick to hack. He informed the others and opened more doors for them to finally storm the room they used for a lab.

Unfortunately, as RK900 hacked the last lock, the door sent an alarm to them and their surprise was lost. The android barged in, immediately focussing fire on him to shield the humans taking position behind him. As he ran into the room, he noticed one human didn’t take cover by the door like the rest of them but used him to get a better one further in the front. Reed. Or course. Always thinking his tactical assessment was far beyond what they had talked over. He let the human do what he wanted – it could be an advantage after all - and protected him as best as he could.

‘RK! Get that bastard!’ The android looked up to see one of the criminals try to flee. A logical decision. The humans had this under control, and he could catch the last one. Except that the Detective seemed to have his own ideas again and followed him. Halfway across the room he lost the advantage of RK900 as a shield though and went down with a cry. Immediately RK900 let himself fall too and pulled the man to safety behind cover. He may have been ordered to chase the criminal, but he was also ordered to not take any risk and to protect humans. He knew he could accomplish all of that. So, after he had pulled the Detective behind cover, he was about to run after the fugitive again, as there was a weak pull on his trouser leg. RK900 turned around to hear what the human had to say. ‘Nines! Please. Don’t go. I don’t want to be alone. Please stay.’

RK900 heard his fans activating as if it was a different android body next to him as red flooded his HUD to the brim with warnings, quarantine status updates, virus messages and the mess of simulated feelings clashing with warnings. He wanted it all o go away, it hurt, and it kept him from action. So he punched it. He raised his fist with all his strength to fight that barrier down. He had to protect them, he had to chase the criminal, he had a job to do. He couldn’t be kept from that by his damn programming.

The red shattered. And with it all determination. Gone were the barred lines of base programming telling him to kill all deviants. Gone was the code that held him from emoting. Gone was the need to chase that criminal. The only thing that stayed was this human wanting him to stay. This weird, angry man that wanted him to stay with him, begged him to do it. Because he didn’t want to be alone. And oh, how RK900 knew that feeling of loneliness. He stayed with the human. He pressed his hand on the wound, called an ambulance and stayed with him as the other humans cleared the room and went after the fugitive. He stayed with him through the ambulance ride and he stayed with him in the hospital as he waited for the man to wake up again.

It was already dark and RK900 had activated a very dim light next to the bed, as the human jerked back to consciousness. RK900 carefully put a hand on his shoulder to lay him back down, reassuring him: ‘Shh, you can relax. I won’t hurt you. You are in the hospital. Your wounds were severe, but you are treated for them and you will heal properly. I’m here. You won’t be alone.’ The Detective coughed but relaxed. He looked the android up and down, unsure what to make of him, then nodded. ‘Thank you’, he whispered, hoarse from not using his voice for quite some time. ‘What’s with the others?’ ‘No casualties’, RK900 reported. ‘A few lightly wounded. All have left the hospital already and are back at work. The criminal… managed to escape. I am sorry.’

Gavin propped himself up a bit, hissing at some forgotten pain, but RK900 let him. He looked at him quizzically then. ‘Why the phck should you be sorry?’ ‘I had the order to catch him. I deviated to stay with you. That is both refusal to obey orders and a damage to my mainframe. If you want me to be reset, I can understand.’ ‘You- I- what?’ ‘If you want me to be reset because I failed my mission, I understand, Detective.’ ‘What the- No! The hell? I wouldn’t reset you, toaster. You saved my phcking life! That’s a good thing. You- You guys are persons now. If deviant or not, no one would say you failed your mission?’

The human looked upset, something RK900 couldn’t understand. He cocked his head in confusion. ‘You… won’t… reset me?’ ‘Hell no. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. And you certainly won’t be punished by anyone. We are partners. Partners look out for each other.’ ‘That is… I can’t…’ RK900 wasn’t sure what others gained from deviancy, he was just overwhelmed. ‘Thank you, Detective.’ ‘Hey, no problem at all, buddy.’ He coughed again, heavier this time. ‘Hey, err… Would you mind getting me a glass of water?’ ‘Of course, Detective.’ He stood up thankful for an order to guide him. ‘And tin-can?’ RK900 turned towards him at the door. ‘It’s Gavin.’

RK900 left the room to find a vending machine or water dispenser to get the human some water. On his way he smiled; something he wasn’t sure to have ever done in earnest.

I am not alone anymore.