#now to figure out how to draw guns easily

[coldasscheeks]

(i can make logan walker and König meet.... in my heart i can)

i remembered i can draw :P

i made up like half of Logan's design here lolll because i forgot it.

[rika-mmendmethings]

Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 5

←CH 4 | CH 6 Coming Soon→

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: mentions of guns, stalking and drug mobs, reader meets the twin

Word count: 2.2k

Notes: We're so back with AB&W!!! I had lost all inspiration for this and was planning to discontinue it but a push came to shove that told me not to. This could be considered kinda (???) a filler chapter but with foreshadowing so hope you pay attention. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me, and I'll try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added to the tag list for this series. ♥

Tag list: @babyx91 @pillarofsnow @beyond-the-stars-fairy @yuki-sama6 @sylviewrites @idiashusband @sadmonke @monophobix @lunarvolley @stxrrielle @fries11 @gremlinartstudio @lillycore @novthirty @animegamerfox @cathedralofaudra @nm4565natty @69-gojos-wife-69 @eolivy @silverianni @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @justpassingdontworry @ruyaya @browneyedgirl22 @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @sneakysnakeysstuff @midiplier @dana-nite @lazeriii @into-deepspace @nommingonfood @eden-axe @verysleepylilguy @lunia-likes-pomegranet @do-clouds-smoke-weed @sowntears @batgirliee @slovesyouuu @blythered @owodi @eden-axe @some-gurl-idk @sarah22447 @belles-reads @kanjiharitama @astvriisk @peachystea @mentaltrouble2201 @creator-freak

The ride is silent at first — deceptively peaceful — save for the soft hum of the car’s engine and the occasional low caw from Mephisto, seated over his passenger seat, while you sit on the back. You keep your gaze fixed out the window, watching the blur of N109’s broken skyline drift by. Your hands are folded neatly in your lap, pressed so tightly together that your knuckles have turned white.

You don’t question how Sylus knew your address. What’s the point? He probably found it out after all his stalking via his invention.

Your thoughts churn like storm clouds in your skull. You’re now walking a knife’s edge — entangled with Onychinus while still neck-deep in the case against the drug lord. Two death traps in either direction. Not to mention the fact that you just agreed to work with a man whose blood wiped off too easily.

“For my children,” you murmur again, under your breath, almost like a mantra. You keep saying it until the words lose their shape, becoming a quiet chant of resolve. “For my children.”

Sylus doesn't comment on your muttering and you aren’t even sure if he hears it. In fact, he hasn't said a word since you got in. Just drove, eyes forward, expression unreadable.

Back at your apartment, you move on autopilot. You open the door, the creak of its hinges greeting you like an old friend. You’re quick with your packing — your stay  reduced to one big duffel bag. Not much stuff since you didn’t even mean to stay in the N109 Zone for this long, at least until your twins got involved. The longer you linger, the more second thoughts try to crawl into your head.

That’s when something lands squarely on your head.

You flinch, instinctively reaching up — only to find cold metal claws curling comfortably into your hair. Mephisto. You glare up at the bird, who simply blinks back at you with blank, mechanical eyes like nothing’s out of the ordinary. “You have got to be kidding me.”

You try to poke him off, but he bites your finger — hard enough to sting, not hard enough to draw blood. Huffing, you finally let him be, holding out your hand like some resigned falconer. He steps onto it with the confidence of someone who’s claimed you. You mutter, “Does Sylus think I’ll make the first escape out of here or what…?”

A smug little caw is the only reply.

Seven minutes. That’s all it takes to pack your life.

Well — almost all.

Your eyes fall on the conspiracy board. Nearly half your height, cluttered with string, notes, pins, and hard-earned information — half of it about the drug lord and the other half, haunting warnings to keep away from your own children. You can't leave it behind.

You drag it out, grunting under your breath, the awkward angles making the trip downstairs even more excruciating. When you finally make it outside, Sylus is still in the driver’s seat, looking very much like a man who has never carried a day’s worth of baggage in his life. He doesn't offer help or even look surprised.

He presses a button, and the trunk pops open on its own.

You shove your duffel in, muttering, “Chivalry really is dead.”

Then you stare at the backseat. Then the board. Then the backseat again. It’s tight. Definitely impossible.

Sylus doesn’t even turn his head when he says, with a smirk laced through his words, “It won’t fit, sweetie. Looks like you’ll have to leave it behind.”

You clench your jaw. He says, like he already knows you’ll fail. Which only makes you all the more determined not to. You run the calculations mentally — height, width, angle. The board can’t go flat, but maybe if you wedge it diagonally...

It takes some maneuvering. Some sheer force of will. And maybe — just maybe — a subconscious push from your evol. 

You feel that surge again like a current warping reality just slightly, enough to nudge things your way.

The board slides in.

Perfect fit.

You let out a slow, satisfied breath, dusting off your hands.

When you glance at Sylus, you catch the tiniest twitch of his brow. Just a millimeter — but it’s enough. He saw it. And more importantly, he suspects.

You avoid his eyes, walking to the passenger side with the heavy feeling of being watched under a magnifying glass.

With the backseat taken, there’s no escaping him now. You sit up front. Buckle in. Mephisto glares at you from the dash for sitting on his designated seat but flies to the backseat with a sharp flutter of feathers.

Sylus starts the engine again. For a moment, the drive resumes in silence. Then, casually — too casually — Sylus speaks.

“Do you have an evol?”

Your stomach drops.

The question slices through the quiet like a knife, too direct, too practiced. You stare ahead, then slowly turn to look at him. His eyes are already on you, unreadable behind their crimson gleam.

You blink once, just to steady yourself. Then you lie through your teeth with practiced ease.

“No.”

He says nothing in response. Just turns his eyes back to the road.

You keep your body still, but your mind races. He doesn’t press. That’s the part that bothers you the most. Because men like Sylus don’t ask questions unless they already know the answers — or are planning how to use the lie against you later.

And judging by the knowing curve of his lips... this was both.

You swallow the lump in your throat, turn your gaze back to the window, and mutter again under your breath.

“For my children.”

It takes a while to reach Sylus’ estate, tucked away at the far edge of the N109 Zone. By the time the car finally slows, the landscape has changed. Gone are the crumbling high-rises and flickering neon signs of the inner Zone. In their place stands a vast estate, cloaked in mist and ivy, its sprawling structure quiet and still under a lavender dusk. The manor looms ahead, classical and imposing, its walls a fusion of old-world stone and cold modern elegance. Windows stretch tall and narrow, their frames carved with meticulous detail, like a monument built by hands that never feared time.

You step out of the car before it fully stops, stretching limbs stiff from tension. You don't wait for Sylus to offer help and don’t spare him a glance as you stride to the trunk. You haul your duffel bag out and drag your oversized conspiracy board from the backseat without ceremony. It's heavy, awkward, but manageable. You’ve carried worse burdens in silence. The board thumps against your thigh with every step, a weight both literal and symbolic.

You're just approaching the front steps when maids appear as if conjured by the house itself. They're quiet, dressed in crisp, dark uniforms, faces carefully neutral. They don’t ask for permission; they simply take your things from your hands with a well-practiced efficiency that makes it clear this house operates on its own rhythm. One maid gently lifts the duffel from your shoulder; another catches the bottom edge of your board before it can scrape the ground. You’re too surprised to protest.

Sylus falls into step beside you, hands in his coat pockets, speaking in his usual detached cadence. “You may choose any room you like. There’s also a study downstairs, free for your use. I’d prefer you begin sorting through our legal affairs by tomorrow morning. I trust that’s—”

His voice fades into the background and you’ve stopped listening.

Just beyond the arching marble entryway, through the soft spill of chandelier light and the muted elegance of the grand hall, your gaze lands on the living room. Plush velvet furniture is arranged around a low, polished-wood coffee table. A fireplace rests cold and clean, its black marble surface unmarred. A large TV is mounted on the wall above it. In front of that TV, two boys wrestle over the remote.

Your twins.

They’re fighting — over the remote, of all things — throwing pillows at each other and yelling about whose turn it is to pick the movie. Luke’s throwing himself sideways across the couch, yelling something about unfair means. Kieran, quieter but no less determined, is gripping the remote with a look of long-suffering patience as he uses his knee to push Luke off balance. It’s such an ordinary moment, so heartbreakingly mundane that your knees almost buckle.

Your vision blurs for half a second, but you refuse to let it break you. You’ve missed too much. You ache with it, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. And still, you don’t move. You just watch. Your gaze drinks them in greedily, like the sight alone might make up for the years you spent scraping by in shadow, always one step too far to reach them.

You never thought your eyes were anything special. You found them too strange, a shade of grey that always looked tired. But now you see those same hue irises present in both your sons, and suddenly they feel like something beautiful. They wear them better than you ever did.

Sylus has gone quiet beside you. He doesn’t speak again until he turns slightly and calls out to the twins, voice even, “Luke. Kieran. This is the faction’s new lawyer. She’ll be assisting Onychinus with some legal matters. I expect you’ll extend proper hospitality.”

The boys look up.

Unmasked, faces open and candid, they’re even more breathtaking. Luke’s expression shifts instantly to something playful, and he’s up in a flash, sauntering toward you like he owns the room. Kieran follows, slower, more reserved, but with a steady gaze that doesn’t waver.

You square your shoulders, schooling your face into something calm and professional, though your heart feels like it's trying to punch its way out of your ribcage. You extend your hand, fingers trembling just slightly.

Luke doesn’t hesitate. He shakes your hand with far too much enthusiasm, grinning like a wolf. “Hope you’re not planning to pull a gun this time, Missus.”

You almost laugh, a real one. “No promises, Luke.”

Kieran watches the exchange, quiet but observant. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft and pointed. “You remembered which of us was which… and we barely introduced ourselves last time.”

Your breath catches. You should’ve pretended and asked who was who. That slip could cost you things. Before you can cover it up with some rehearsed lie, Sylus intervenes smoothly.

“Why don’t we let her settle in?” he suggests. “There’s time for more... introductions later.”

But you don’t want to rest even if your limbs scream at you to do so. You don’t want to move. You want to stay, listen to their voices until they’re seared into memory. You want to trace their lives backwards and fill in the missing years. But Sylus places a hand at the small of your back, and the contact jolts you. You move to shrug him off, but he leans in before you can.

“Comply, sweetie,” he murmurs, voice low and body far too close.

Your glare could peel paint, but you comply — stomping past him after bidding the twins goodnight. Once you arrive to your room, you reach for the door to shut it behind you. Just as you're about to slam the door shut in your temporary employer’s face, Sylus’ shoe wedges into the gap.

His sanguine eyes are darker now, lips a taut line. “I’d prefer you entertain less with my associates,” he says flatly, “and work more.”

You meet his gaze and step forward, close enough that your shadows merge. “I’m sorry,” you say coolly, “but I don’t take other people’s preferences into consideration.”

Then, with all the grace you can muster, you lift your heel and slam it on his foot. Hard. He doesn’t flinch — the bastard — but you see his jaw tick. You use the moment to kick his shoe out of the doorway and then shut it in his face with a final, gratifying thunk.

You lean against the door, and finally allow yourself to exhale. You just pray that he won’t tell you to get out tomorrow morning. Even if he does, you won’t just go away like that. You’ll need to tone down your attitude to stay here longer. Because your sons are under this roof.

Sylus stands in the hallway long after the door has slammed in his face, eyes lingering on the space where you stood just moments ago. His hand rises to eye level, fingers curled delicately around a single strand of hair — yours. Silken, fine, and still faintly warm from where it had clung to the curve of your cheek before he’d quietly plucked it during the brief walk to your room.

He twirls the strand between his thumb and index finger, once, then again, thoughtful. This wasn’t about confirmation. Sylus didn’t need a DNA test to prove what was already evident. The resemblance between you and the twins was woven into every detail — from the mirrored shape of your faces to the precise hue of your eyes. And beyond appearances, your slip of tongue near Mephisto had been all the confession he needed.

No, he wasn’t chasing the truth. He was chasing leverage.

He would send it to the Odd Workshop later. People like you, proud and intelligent, moved in straight lines when pushed to emotional limits. You would risk anything for your children. That much, Sylus knew. He’d seen it in the way you looked at them — like they were both your sun and sanctuary.

That made them your greatest strength. And your greatest weakness.

Which he’ll drive you away with.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[mywritersmind]

SILVERWARE - LN4 spy au

summary : She gets flirted with all the time, called hot by attractive men, offered drinks by ugly ones. She’s seen it all. Tonight however, is a first for her. Called beautiful by a stunning man himself, and shooting the same one twenty minutes later.

listen up : spy!landonorris. suggestive comments. blood. guns. talk of sewing skin. knives. fighting!! hope you enjoy! this is very different from what i normally write but i loveeeed it! also spy carlos cameo.

words : 4615

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He’s been watching her. She knows it. It’s only a relief to one of them when he finally walks up to her and gives her the peace of mind that he wasn’t about to kill her.

She wants to say something first, but then she remembers her role. A role that isn’t too hard to play when a handsome curly haired man is trying to flirt with her.

“I’m sorry to bother you… I don’t know if you noticed me staring… building up the courage to talk to someone so gorgeous is harder than you’d think.” she switches her drink into her other hand and smiles innocently, liking the sound of his accent against the chatter filled room.

“With a face like that, you don’t need to apologize.” She sips out of the martini glass, her lipstick transferring on, “And thank you.”

“I’m Bob.” She doesn’t laugh, but is tempted. Instead she eyes his hand that’s being offered to her and shakes it. His eyes are a mix of blueish green, something only she could pick up in this environment.

He watches her face as she tries not to laugh, something he’s seen far too often when introducing himself with that name. Her hands are soft, his a bit ragged, but they both notice the shocking difference in size as they pull away. “Nic.”

“You here all alone, Nic?” His eyes still glance to the crowd, making sure to not miss the one thing he’s here for.

He knows he would get scolded for getting distracted, but he could easily argue that she was simply too beautiful to overlook. She wouldn’t get scolded, she’s a great multitasker and her team knows it.

“I’m here with my friend.” She lies, “She went off with someone a while ago. You?”

“Alone.” He nods, “Much happier now though, this is horribly boring.”

She nods at this, “Less boring when you’re a few drinks in.” She isn’t a few drinks in, in fact, she’s regretfully been sipping on the same martini for two hours.

He smiles at this, something devastating because she knows she won’t see his stunning smile again after this sad little conversation. He’s stunning and his smile is something she would love to explore.

She eyes his suit, perfectly fitted to him with a couple buttons undone. He likes her dress. It hugs her body with a perfect elegance, an almost hidden slit is what draws him in the most, that and her straps practically falling off her shoulders.

He doesn’t know that the slit is for easy access, and not the sexual kind. The metal kind that is strapped to her thigh and loaded.

She looks around the room, eyeing the man she’s been watching. What she doesn’t expect, is him to look at her. She turns quickly back to Bob, stepping closer and resting a well manicured hand on his chest, touching the collar of his shirt. “Breaking dress code… how bad boy of you.”

He smirks at her touch as she tilts her head, “What if I said a kid nicked it off me?”

Her fingers slip below the fabric, “I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Smart girl.” He says. It makes her want to roll her eyes but she’s quickly distracted by the hand that rests on her waist. “I like your dress.”

“You like my dress or how my boobs look in my dress?” her manner drops for a second, something she can’t help. To her luck, he laughs.

“Both?” He watches her eyes, knowing she can’t decide between being charmed or confused. He really has got to work on that-

“I’ve got to go.” She says suddenly, backing away. His eyes dart to the figure moving across the room.

“Me too! Lovely meeting-” But she’s already gone, taking off in the other direction, her drink discarded on the bar counter. He shakes his head, walking away and trying to focus on the job at hand, not the beautiful woman who just left him in her dust.

⋆༺

The gun is in her hand now, pointed at an old man who’s struggling to open a door. He clumsily fiddles with the key, apologizing over and over again to the three men that stand behind him. They don’t seem to care, standing pin straight in their suits.

The one in the middle is who she turns her gun at, Mickey Chavez. Her old partner and new target. The two behind him are the large, silent, you look at Mickey wrong and you die, type.

The hallway is long and shaded at both ends, she stands in the corner, looking around it with her gun poking out just enough. She won’t shoot, not yet.

The man finally gets the door open and she knows what she has to do. Except, someone seems to do it for her. Right as her trigger is pulled, two shots are fired but not from her gun. The two men fall to the floor in agony.

Her shot flew right over their heads and landed in the wall. She never misses. What the hell is happening?

The two men weren’t shot to kill, they hop around and groan because they were shot in their… feet?

She turns the corner, her gun out and her eyes narrowed, ready to meet whoever just ruined her perfect shot.

She expects someone she knows, at this point, she knows every woman and man on the circuit. She does recognize his face, but she’s never held a gun to him before, she only held her hand out.

“What the fuck!?” They say at the exact same time. He’s standing in the exact same position as her but at the opposite end of the hallway. They shoot at the same time, Y/n ducking even though the shot was nowhere close to her head. Lando turns, trying to get out of the way but the bullet grazes the back of his arm.

“Bob!?”

He groans, “Why is it always the pretty ones!?”

And then the hallways fills with gunshots.

In a temporary lapse of insanity, they apparently both forgot the two wounded men had guns.

She ducks instinctively, rolling to the side and shooting right back. Mickey doesn’t carry a gun, she knows this. It’s the exact reason why the old man and Mickey dive into the room and shut the door.

One man is running at her, a flash of blue behind him tells her that ‘Bob’ (Something she definitely knows is fake now) is charging at the other man.

The one that comes at her is honestly short, which makes her smile. It isn’t a long time until he’s on the floor in front of her. Thank you seven years of training and a lipstick taser.

He’s knocked out, slumped at her feet. She steps politely over him and struts down the hallway in her red bottomed heels. The other bodyguard is still fighting with the handsome not so stranger, something she rolls her eyes at as she shoves the door open.

“Y/n!” Mickey screams, scrambling up from the door and clearly not expecting her.

“Mouse!” She scoffs, using his old codename and pointing her gun at him. “Get on the wall or I shoot!”

“What are you doing here?” He stands, pulling his knife out. Ah yes, Mickey was always one for theatrics.

“Take a guess.” She steps closer, glancing at the whimpering old man, “Shut up, you’re not gonna die. You will be going to jail for having a hand in a murder and tampering with evidence!” She yells probably louder than needed, but so worked up about this case. “Oh and jewel theft.”

She glances at the giant glass box with a crown in it. The historic fashion girly in her wants to totally geek out over seeing the jewels but when the light hits them, she looks back at Mickey. “I always hated you.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s cause i’m gay, isn’t it.”

She shoots the wall behind him, “You’re not funny either. You sold me out! You were a shitty spy and now you’re a lousy thief.”

“I had to!” He whines as ‘Bob’ runs in behind her, out of breath and heading straight for the old man.

“Cut the shit and get on the ground!” I yell, “Where’s the crown.”

‘Bob’ is already getting to work on the glass, having tied up the old man already. He raises a brow but doesn’t say anything as he cuts the glass with a tool from his suit pocket.

“It’s right there!” He points to the glass, frowning.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” she hears the dropping of glass as she keep my eyes on Mickey, and then, because apparently no one trusts her, Bob drops to the floor.

What she doesn’t expect is someone to charge through the door and spray her in her shocked face, falling right next to Bob as the world fades away.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

He wakes up hungover with a girl next to him, or at least, that’s what he thinks at first. It wouldn’t be the first time, but they’re both fully dressed and when she wakes up, she screams.

Now that would be a first for him.

She goes to sit up but is yanked back down by something. He looks up and gets a horrible feeling because it’s the same thing on his wrist. Rope. He comes to the horrible realization that the pounding in his head is not from too much alcohol and the sharp pain on his back is not just because he slept funny.

Rope is tight on both of his wrists, except there’s someone else’s skin against one.

One wrist is tied to the headboard, the other is tied… to her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She says, staring at their bound wrists.

Wiggling around a bit, she groans even more, “They took my gun.”

He leans over, not feeling the familiar weight in his pocket, “Same.”

He frowns, not really knowing what to do and going through options in his head. They took his watch, glass cutter, knife- What the fuck is she doing.

Her leg is stretched out in front of her, through the slit in her dress and bending her knee to get her foot close to the banister. He gets distracted for a moment, watching her long tanned leg slip away from the fabric.

“What are you-” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence because she slips the heel of her shoe between the rope and it falls right off. “Christ, you’re flexible.”

She gives him a look, sitting up and untying their wrists, “You’ve got a blade in your heel?” She doesn’t say anything, just slips the rope off and stretches her arms, looking around.

“Who are you?” She turns to him, “Actually. And why are you in my way?” He tries to get himself untied, fiddling with the rope and staying unsuccessful.

“I’m Lando.” He sits up, reaching across him and wondering who tied this horrible knot, “And i’m not in your way- you’re in mine.”

“You’re a spy?” She says, quite rudely in Lando’s opinion.

“I don’t look it?”

She doesn’t respond, standing up and walking around the room that seems to be a basic hotel suite. “Why would they throw us in here…?”

“What’s your name?” Lando asks as she checks the room for weapons and people, peaking into the bathroom, then under the bed… giving Lando a great view of her ass-

She sits up suddenly, sending a sharp look his way. “I told you- It’s Nic.”

“Okay love, you’re awfully pretty but please don’t lie to me. I’m a spy too.” The fact that they met, both armed and on a mission, and She didn’t realize what he was concerned her.

Maybe he’s a better spy than she thought. But then again he didn’t know what she was either. She stands, moving her hair over her shoulder,

“Y/n.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n. For real this time.” He smiles, “Now… could you help me out here?” He’s still tied up, something that makes Y/n a bit too happy about.

“You’re supposed to be a spy. You’re not good with your hands?” A cool smirk slides over his face.

“If you untie me i’ll let you find out.”

She rolls her eyes at his line and walks over to the window. It’s fully clear, the night sky looking back at them with winks of city lights.

“Y/n.” He says her name softly, something that makes her pause, “I’m on your side- I mean… I want to get out of here as much as you do. And I don’t mind a little competition along the way.”

“Competition you can eliminate easily to win.”

“I pinky promise I won’t hurt you.” He holds up his free hand, sticking his picky finger out with a hopeful smile, “My wrist really hurts.”

She sighs, walking over to him and sitting on the side of the bed, trying to untie him with her hands first. He watches her intently as she makes the attempt. “Hard, isn’t it?”

“Shut up before I make you.” She whips off her heel and cuts him out.

“So I'm the one who should be worried then…” He rubs his wrist, now red and burned, “Doubt i’d mind having you shut me up.”

Her heel is at his throat in seconds, “Say it again, Curly.”

His smirk stays in place on his face, his hands up in surrender, “Jeez love… I’m sorry.”

“Help me with the door.” She slides her shoe back on, something Lando doesn’t understand considering her feet must hurt by now, and walks over to the door.

The second she touches the door handle, she flinches back, “Shit.”

He reaches into his pockets, just to be disappointed. “They took my shock blocker.”

She looks at him, slightly amused as her hand still tingles, “You have a shock blocker?”

“I get electrocuted a lot…”

“Is that how your hair ended up like this?” She steps closer, running a hand through his hair as if they’re back at the bar.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t back away, “Windows are locked?”

She drops her hand. “We’re on the Fiftieth floor. They don’t open at all.”

“Shame.”

“What would you do?” She crosses her arms, “Jump?”

“Better than getting shot again. Thank god they took your gun away-” He turns his arm, showing where he was sliced by the bullet through his suit and skin on the back of his bicep.

“Holy shit!” He’s bleeding still, soaking his shirt with deep crimson as she stares wide eyed at it. “Lando!” She hits, actually hits his arm! “Why didn’t you say anything!?”

She physically drags him by the collar of his shirt, proving to be far stronger than she looks before shoving him back onto the bed that they now realize has blood on it.

“It’s fine- i’m fine…” Until he sees the blood on her hands, making him a little woozy. “Okay maybe not…”

She marches over to the closet, throwing it open and pushing past the fluffy robes and safe, going straight for the tiny emergency kit.

Apparently their kidnappers did not have much time to think because most everything is still in this room. To her luck, there’s a small sewing kit. When he sees her pull out a needle and thread, he tries to get away, “No!”

“Yes.” She slams his shoulders back down, making him groan in pain.

“You are not sewing me up-”

“Yes the fuck I am!” She pulls his jacket off of him, unbuttoning his shirt next. He frowns, watching her hands move and pull the fabric off his skin. She tries not to have her gaze linger on his body, something even a highly trained spy struggles with. “Go ahead, make the dirty joke.”

He smiles despite the pain, “I wasn’t going to. But if you have one i’m all for it-”

Y/n huffs and climbs onto the bed behind him, hiking up her skirt so he can sit between her legs. “It’s going to hurt so just breath, yeah?”

She gets straight to it, wiping the dried blood with a washcloth and piercing his skin with no warning. “Fuck!” He bites his lip, hard. “Ah!”

She scoots her leg closer to him, “Grab my knee.” He does with no hesitation, the pain too great.

He leans his head back, “I hate you. Why did you have to shoot me!? Oh fuck-” She doesn’t cringe at the sight, having to do this to herself too many times. Her hands are shaking though. They always shake when she sees blood.

“Tell me about your mission. Tell me about why you shot those two idiots in the foot- I mean why the foot!?”

“Ugh!” He groans, “Um- I don’t shoot to kill. I can’t- Ow! My mission- to get Mickey. Just Mickey, I don’t know why.” She watches his jaw tense, making her oddly even more attracted to him.

“Interesting… He used to be my partner.” Everything in her screams to not tell him more, but the groan he lets out makes her continue, “Shitty partner. Only uses knives, likes the gore of it I guess. Creepy right? Anyway, He sold me out. Got me kidnapped too so I guess this is the second time.” She sighs, pushing the needle through skin as if it’s nothing.

“That- sucks!” He squeezes her knee tightly, hurting a bit but not complaining since it can’t be worse than what he’s going through.

“I always work alone but my team said I needed to be less of a loner or something- look where that got me.”

Lando chokes out a laugh, “Same- I mean, I only trust myself. Why complicate it?”

His curls brush her shoulder as he leans back into her, “Shit, Are you done yet!?”

“Actually…” She ties it off, “Yes!” She rubs his arm soothingly, something Lando could fall asleep too, “You did good.”

The words and touch combine make him shudder, standing up and rolling his shoulder, “Sorry about the blood…” He looks down at her hands, Her eyes leaving his only to glance at his body.

“I’m sorry about shooting you… And what’d I tell you?” She slides off the bed, “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well if I don’t then you definitely shouldn’t either. You didn’t know who I was.” He shrugs, “You wouldn’t shoot at me now, right?”

Y/n nods slowly, not making him feel any more confident, “Whatever you wanna tell yourself, Curly.” walking past him, she goes straight to the bathroom to wash the blood off her hands.

There’s a bang at the window, making them both jump. Y/n hurries out of the bathroom, Lando pausing as he pulls his shirt back on.

The whole thing happens in seconds, there’s glass everywhere and a breaking noise coming along with it. It’s not very loud, but a glass wall shattering isn’t quiet either.

The man that swings in has a harness on his waist, staring at the two people who hold up a lamp and a hanger to defend themselves. Y/n has no clue who this is, and is even more confused when he laughs.

He pulls his goggle like glasses off, “Wow you look stupid.” She’s about to be offended but then she realizes that his words are directed fully at Lando. He’s got thick dark hair and a spanish accent to match, wearing dirty jeans and a navy button down, he hugs Lando.

“What are you doing here!?” Lando says as if they’re old friends catching up at a highschool reunion! Y/n just drops the lamp and brings her hand to her hair.

“Saving your ass!” The mystery man claps Lando on his back and finally looks at Y/n who has been watching their bromance intently. “Of course you’d get stuck with a pretty one.”

“She shot me!” He says, turning to show his cut just as she groans and stomps over to the two men.

He’s still looking at the cut as if it’s the greatest thing on TV. “Hello!? You said you’re saving our asses?”

“Oh so you’re including yourself?” The man says, “I guess that’s fine.”

“Dude!” Lando says, “I just said she shot me!”

“Yeah mate… I'm taking her with if she got you.” He turns to her again, “Slippery fuck is impossible to shoot in drills, i’m impressed.”

“Back to the issue at hand!” Lando interrupts them, looking disgusted at his friend speaking to her, “You saving us or what?”

Turns out, he is! Lando steps into a harness as the man turns to her, “I’m Carlos, by the way. I don’t usually save Lando’s ass for fun but there was a call and I was the only one in office.”

Y/n smiles at this, liking the man more and more by the second, “I’m Y/n. How’d you get here…?”

“Chopper.” Carlos explains, “Not very inconspicuous so you better hurry!” Lando is all clicked in and ready to go, “Look, Y/n, I only planned on one damsel in distress today so you’re gonna have to piggyback off of Lan.”

Y/n’s heart drops, “Sorry?” but Carlos is already pulling himself back up the building.

“Don’t worry!” Lando smiles, “You trust me, right?”

“No!” Her eyes widen as his hands wrap around her waist, “Lando, No!”

“You’ll be fine, love, we only have one story to go-” he steps closer to the broken glass, the sound making Y/n nauseous as the open air hits her.

“No!” She stops in her tracks, “Lando- You don’t get it. I actually can’t.” Shes a world famous spy, she’s been shot, kidnapped, cut, and used, but her worst fear is still heights. “I’d rather try my luck with the door again.”

Lando stops, understanding her fear now and putting his hands on the sides of her arms, “Y/n. You just put a needle through my skin. I trust you enough to do that. I pinky promised you I wouldn’t hurt you. So please, trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His eyes are so sincere and oddly comforting in the moment.

He’s holding onto her dress only, her hands wrapped around the harness and rope that holds him up. Her eyes squeeze shut as they start dangling. Lando keeps his promise. He doesn’t let go.

It isn’t long until they reach the top, but for Y/n, it feels like years. She didn’t dare open her eyes, still keeping them shut as her heels met the gravel of the roof.

She intends to keep them shut, until she hears a thud. Carlos is on the roof, groaning at the impact as Mickey stands over him with a knife. “No!” Lando jumps into action, tackling Mickey and definitely getting cut in the process.

He’s holding the crown, she realizes. The real one. It gets flung out of his hand and as he scrambles to grab it, Lando kicks him in the stomach.

Y/n forgets every doubt she’s had about the two men, hurrying over to help Carlos, “He just knocked the wind out of me- Just, try to get Lan into the helicopter.” He stands and Y/n runs at Mickey.

This asshole. He sells her information. He gets her kidnapped. He tortures her. He kidnaps her again. And now he wants to hurt her hot new spy man!? No fucking chance.

She sees the knife get slashed across Lando’s chest, his shirt still unbuttoned and barely holding on as they roll around. Carlos is in the helicopter by now, starting it up and yelling over the noise.

Carlos throws a knife at her, apparently having enough faith in the woman who does catch it. “Mouse!” She screams as Lando pushes him off, the two now standing, “You always begged me to spar with silverware only, now’s your chance.”

Mickey grins, malicious and full of a sick want to see her bleed. The crown is on his shoulder, not going anywhere unless someone chops his arm off. If it’s going to be anyone, it will be her.

He runs at her, almost making her want to roll her eyes. Amateur. She stabs the knife right into his shoulder, but he uses these things more than she does, reciprocating the slice across her stomach.

Still, her corset keeps her safe. “Fuck you I liked this dress!” She goes for his chest, then neck, missing both as he sidesteps her.

“Y/n!” Her name is yelled over the whipping of wind, distracting her for a second too long and letting Mickey cut her ankle.

She kicks him in the face, making him fall over and blood start pooling out of his nose, “Cunt!” He yells as her heel grinds into his arm.

He grabs her ankle and twists it, forcing her to the ground and trying to climb over her. He makes an attempt to straight stab her neck but she swerves out of the way.

The movement and grunts next to her makes her realize that it was Lando’s voice who distracted her, the bodyguard from earlier pointing a gun at Lando and Carlos. “Shit, Mickey! You’re ruining my impression with my new friends!”

A knife comes at her again, her shoe intercepting it and making the silver clatter to the ground feet away. She gets him then, Stabbing his collar deep. She looks away, the sound making her sicker than usual. She doesn’t want to kill him, oh no, she wants him alive for what she’s going to do to him.

She doesn’t hesitate, standing up and throwing her knife straight at the bodyguard. Carlos is still in the helicopter, Lando standing below and watching her with wide eyes.

The knife hits the man right in the side of his neck, slicing through far too easy and making him shoot his gun. Except with the knife in his neck, he cries out and misses either of the men, shooting upward.

Lando runs to her without hesitation, “Are you okay!?” Is not what she expects him to say.

“I- yes!? Help me!” Mickey is half passed out, the pain too much. She grabs his feet, Lando grabs his arms.

Carlos helps throw him in, tying his wrists just in case, even though he’s fully out now. By the time they’re in the air, Lando and Y/n aren’t even strapped in.

They’re both breathing heavily, Y/n leaning back into Lando as they turn. His hand goes around her waist again, feeling the cut on her dress and panicking for a moment before he realizes it’s only the fabric. He holds onto the seat, as she leans her head back into him this time.

“I guess that’s why people have partners, huh?” Lando says, holding her tighter in his arms as they turn.

She nods weakly, “We both got what we wanted.” She holds up the glittering crown, proud of herself this time. Even if it took some blood.

“You basically brought my mission to me.” He says, “I owe you.”

She laughs dryly, “Buy me dinner and a a fucking trophy.”

Even though she laughed when she said it, he takes it to heart. “You know… having a partner might not be too bad.”

She looks up at him, her eyes narrowed, “I am not the person for that job.”

He smirks, a sense of warm relief finding its way back into her chest when she sees it, “Thing is love… I think you might be.”

[lacontroller1991]

Rumors (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Summary: After you believed he was dead, it comes as a shock to you that he's alive and wrecking havoc.

Warnings: 18+, HEAVY LANGUAGE, drug usage, drinking, mention of cannibalism, violence, gun slinging, blood, nudity, fighting

Author's Note: I swear I'll work on my other requests but the Cooper Howard brain rot is REAL and its STRONG, anywho, first time so let me know how you guys like it :)

Word Count: 3k

--------------------------------

In the wastelands of California, rumors get you killed and you’ve heard rumors. Whispers of his return. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. Since he left you on your own in the middle of a gun fight to collect his bounty; and it nearly cost you your life. 

The last you’ve heard about him was that he was 6 feet deep and locked in a coffin with no way of escaping, unless someone purposely dug him out. Yet, you can’t think of a single person who would. Still, rumors spread like wildfire, and you’d be damned if you don’t try and get revenge.

-----------

The California sun beats down on your back. The heat weighs you down, but not as much as the pain in your chest. He let you believe that he cared about you. He really fooled you into a sense of partnership, romance, but you really should’ve known. Cooper Howard is a lone wolf, nothing and nobody will stand in his way. 

The site of Filly in the distance is a welcoming sight. If anyone has seen anything, it would have been here. It doesn’t take you long to cross the remaining distance, sweat dripping down your back as you enter the market. 

“Haven’t seen ya in a while (Y/N).” A local merchant snides with a creepy smile, showcasing his rotten teeth. Walking over to your side, he runs a hand down your arm and you resist the urge to gag. “What are ye in town for?” 

“Information.” You eye the stairs that are being fixed, along with other wooden structures, a signature sign that he’s been here.

“Looking for your Ghoul, huh?” His face is offly close to yours and it’s enough for you to draw your gun, casually pressing it into his side, causing him to instantly back off. “He was here two days ago. Got in a firefight with a knight, seemed like he was after a bounty.” You scoff. Of course he is. Anything for those damn vials. Vials. At the thought of vials a malicious smile forms on your face. Sooner or later, he will need to get more, and you’ll be there when he does. 

Holstering your gun, you flip him a bottle cap in appreciation before stalking off, heading to the one place you know he will be.

By the time the sun sets, you’re settled in an abandoned building, low enough to the ground where you can see what’s coming, but high enough to be out of any immediate danger. Wrapping your arms around yourself tighter, you can’t help but to think about the times where you and him would be shoulder to shoulder, barely touching, but enough to make butterflies fly in your stomach.

Despite his ghoulish appearance, you find him to be quite handsome. His rugged cowboy exterior does barely enough to hide the last shred of humanity he has, and at times, it was directed towards you. With a sigh, you let your eyes shut, sleep easily consuming over you.

-----------

“Please, let me go.” A feminine voice stirs you from your unconsciousness as your eyes blink against the harsh light of the sun. “Please, sir, I’m begging you.” Shuffling slightly, you peer your head past the concrete wall, spotting two figures, one in a blue/yellow vault-tec suit and the other in a cowboy hat with a lasso around the girl. 

“Well I’d be damned,” it’s hushed and to yourself, afraid of him hearing you and spotting you.

“I done told you vaultie, ain’t gonna happen. You deaf or sum?” His drawl sends chills down your spine as he nudges her forward with the tip of his gun. “Now hur-” his words are cut off by a coughing fit but his grip on the lasso remains. After regaining his breath, he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Hurry up. I ain’t got all day.” You watch in silence as the pair walks past your hideout, unaware of your existence. Grabbing your things, you rush off after them, making sure to stay in the shadows as your brain goes through different scenarios of what could happen. Would you and Cooper make up? Would he try to kill you? Would you try to kill him? Does he even care? The closer they get to the supermart, the more you hang back, hand slightly hovering over your gun. 

Trying to listen to the conversation, you strain your ears but to no avail. Peeking over an abandoned car, you focus your eyes on the situation ahead of you, watching as he gestures for the girl to go through the sliding glass door. The minute they shut, he collapses on the ground and you resist the urge to go and help him. Sighing, you open the bag at your side, rummaging through a variety of equipment before your fingers run over the cool glass of the vials that keep him sane. “That’s just ironic,” you chuckle, looking back to him still laying on the ground, a slight tang of pity radiating through your chest. If there’s anything you hate about yourself, it’s that. You’re too soft for people who have no problem leaving you out to dry. 

You could confront him now, kick him while he’s down, but being dramatic is more fun. It’s useless trying to talk to him when he’s in that sorry state. 

An hour later and you’re still outside, covering from the sun and waiting for the right moment to make your appearance. The sight of the vaultie walking alone gathers your attention as you keep out of sight? Now how the hell did she manage to escape? You’re not an idiot, everyone and their mamas know that the SuperDuper Mart takes in bodies and harvests the organs, selling them to the highest bidder. So how on this God forsaken planet did she escape practically unscathed? As she walks further away you ponder the possibility that maybe you and everyone on the surface has really underestimated the ones who live below. 

Once she is out of sight, you rush out from your hiding spot and toward the mart, hoping to find him. “Well, he isn’t where I saw him last,” you huff out, drawing your gun from its holster as you walk through the glass door, keeping your eyes vigilant. With the mart being practically empty aside from overturned themed rides, it’s easy to hear a person stumbling around, knocking stuff over. 

By the time you spot him, his back is to you, head tipped slightly back as he downs a bottle of alcohol he found. The sound of you cocking your gun causes him to freeze in place, and if you were facing him, you would spot the smile on his face. 

“You ain’t gonna shoot me now, are ya?” Your silence is deafening and you don’t move an inch, not really sure if you would actually shoot him or not.  “Was wonderin’ when you were gonna find me.”

“It’s pretty easy to find a drug addicted ghoul these days, especially ones that have a penchant for the dramatics.” You keep your gun trained on his back as he slowly turns around, dropping the glass bottle and letting it shatter to the floor. 

“Me? Dramatic? I don’t think I’m the dramatic one sweetheart. You’re the one who came in here, guns blazing. I think you’re the dramatic one.” He takes a step forward, and another, and another, until his chest is pressed right against the nozzle of your gun. “Now why don’t you put your gun down and give Coop a big ki-” your gun whacks across his face, tearing the flesh slightly only for it to heal right away, causing him to growl. His gloved hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, hoisting you against the wall while you struggle in his grasp. “That’s no way to greet me. Where are your manners?” He asks, his southern accent penetrating each word.

“Fucker,” raising a leg, you kick between his with all you can muster and spit on his face, the shock being enough to let you loose and allowing you to slip out. 

He looks at you for a second before laughing sadistically, using his thumb to collect your spit and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he was savoring it. “I missed you kitten.”

Scoffing, you holster your gun and take a seat on the couch, turning your attention to the tv where you spot a young, handsome, human Cooper Howard on the screen. “Really Coop? You’re that full of yourself?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he plops down next to you before taking another bottle and giving that a swig. “Was the only half decent shit in this hell hole,” at the mention of the place, you take a proper look around, bodies laying everywhere, some human, some ghoul, and even a robot.

“The fuck happened here?”

“Was traveling with a vault dweller, traded her for some vials but I guess she didn’t take too well to the idea of her organs being sold,” he comments nonchalantly, twisting off the cap of a vial and draining the liquid into his mouth while you look at him like he grew two heads. 

“You’re meaning to tell me that that vault dweller managed to do all this?”

“Did I stutter?” Now you know you really underestimated the people in the vaults. You honestly wonder if they’re all like this or is she just some random four leaf clover. “Why’d you come in here raisin hell anyway?”

Leaning back on the couch, you look forward to the tv, trying to concentrate on the handsome man on the screen instead of the one sitting next to you, “heard you were dead.”

“The details of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Still doesn’t answer my question,” he looks at you with a look that says ‘I frankly don’t give a shit’ but something deep down inside of you tells you that he does. 

“I’m pissed as hell that you left me. I thought we were partners?” Rolling his eyes, he laps at a random white powder laying on the table before leaning back.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. Didn’t see a need to stick around. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted. Seemed like a fair trade.” 

A sigh escapes your mouth as you take the bottle from his one hand and downed it, scrunching your nose as the alcohol burns down your throat and lights a fire in your stomach. How can he be so naive? You had initially joined him when you were both after the same group of people, but for vastly different reasons. He had wanted the large bounty on the head of the leader and you wanted to find your past lover, but somewhere along the route to finding them you developed feelings for the Ghoul sitting next to you, and you thought he developed them too. You initially didn’t spot him when the shooting started, too occupied with the Ghoul pressing his back against yours, the two of you working in tandem. Everything happened so fast and before you knew it, you were the only one shooting back at the group of people, most of them lying dead and your companion nowhere to be seen. The bounty was also gone.

He had left you on your own and it hurt. It also didn’t help that once the shooting was over and you remained, you found your former lover in the arms of another. It’s true that you found who you wanted, but at what cost? Was it really your lover than you wanted or was it Cooper Howard, the Ghoul, who you wanted?

Realistically, you know the answer. It’s pretty obvious by the way that when you heard he was alive, you practically dropped everything in pursuit of him. Taking another swig of the alcohol you ponder over your next course of actions. Should you admit your feelings for him or should you leave it? Looking back at the tv, you watch the former Cooper Howard get down from his horse, gun in hand and hat tipped ever so slightly over his eyes, much like how the man next to you does. He’s never going to be the same man again, you know that, but maybe he still has the ability to love? “I love you, you know?”

Cooper looks over to you with a puzzled look on his face before it goes blank and your heart sinks. If there was any sort of superpower you could have right now, it would 100% be mind reading. “You’re stupid.” 

“Right. Yep. Totally.” You’re pissed. You took a gamble and lost. Laid your heart on the line only for it to be destroyed. Swallowing down your pride, you get up from your seat and holster your gun, taking a couple of vials for safe keeping. “Have a good life Coop.” You don’t bother turning back, tears welling in your eyes. How could you have been so stupid? Of course he doesn’t return the feeling. You kick the dead body out of your way, too overwhelmed with your emotions to realize that he is calling your name. A hand wrapping around your wrist stirs you from your thoughts as he hand spins you around to face him, a soft look gracing his features.

“I ain’t finished,” it’s soft. Softer than anything you’ve ever heard from him but you yank your hand away, rebuilding the walls around your heart.

“I don’t wanna he-” he cuts you off with a rough kiss against your lips, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you close as his scarred lips move against yours. The kiss is rough, demanding, but also loving, intimate. It’s enough to make you dizzy. Pulling away, he keeps you in his grasp as you look up at him through blown eyes, trying to figure out what he’s playing at. “Coop?”

“Shh darlin’. You didn’t let me finish. I said you’re stupid. Stupid for loving someone like me. I’m no good for anyone, especially you, you should know this.” You can tell by the restraint in his voice that he fully means what he’s telling you. Smiling softly, you dust off his duster and pull on his vest, straightening out his clothes as he watches you, not really sure what to make of your intentions. 

“Y’know, there was this one cowboy I met years ago and when I asked how he survived as long as he has and you know what he told me?”

“What’s that?”

“We take it as it comes.” He closes the bridge between the two of you with his mouth against yours, this time it’s more eager. Taking in your bottom lip, he bites hard enough to draw blood, causing you to gasp in surprise. Using that to his advantage, his tongue slips in, exploring every crevice of the mouth that he’s longed for.

“Well ain’t this sweet. We have a ghoul and a ghoulfucker. I wonder what that sex looks like,” you and Cooper pull away abruptly, you eye the three men in sheriff uniforms while Cooper scowls, annoyed by their presence. Moving towards them, Cooper raises his hands in false surrender while you get behind his back, one hand reaching for his shotgun and the other reaching for your own gun, ready to draw at any moment. 

“What can I do for you folks?” The three men eye each other before pointing their guns at Cooper, you still standing behind him, ready to take on each of them.

“Destroying a legitimate business? That’s illegal around these parts,” one speaks up, aviators covering his eyes as he moves around to get a better view of you. “My my, don’t tell me this pretty little thing did all this damage. Why don’t you raise your hands sweetheart, let’s see that gorgeous figure.” 

If looks could kill, that man would be 12 feet under and blasted to high heaven with the biggest nuke Cooper could find. “I’d be careful if I were you, she may be pretty, but she's also a pint sized atom bomb.” His head tilts, telling you all that you needed to know. Reaching for your gun, you quickly shoot the two companions as Cooper lunges for the man who dared to flirt with you. Kicking the gun away from reach, Cooper wraps his hand around the throat of the sheriff and hoists him in the air while you loot their supplies. Turning the men around, you cut their pants off, leaving their backside exposed for Cooper to take his fair share of ass jerky. The man in his grasp squirms at the site of his counterparts being exposed, but Cooper’s grip doesn’t falter.

“Why are you sick freaks doing this?” The man continues to struggle in Cooper’s grasp, hands trying to claw away at skin but to no avail as you load your gun, sliding over to the duo. 

“Wanna do the honors sweetheart?” It’s rare that Cooper offers anybody anything, let alone a kill and it takes you a minute to process his proposal.

“We do this for the love of the game.” A gunshot rings out while the man goes limp in Cooper’s hand, brains splattered on the floor below you. Dropping the man, Cooper’s eyes flit to your body, chest rising and falling as you come off the adrenaline high. 

“Now that was hot as hell sweetheart. You sure know how to make an impression on an old man.” 

“Is that right?”

“‘m afraid so.” His eyes watch as you begin to unbuckle your armor, letting it fall from your frame to the floor.

“Then come and get me cowboy.”

@reveluving

[monakisu]

I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333

HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)

but rlly… theyre so similar:

- brunet

- asshole

- pretty boy

- mass murderer

- black-haired homoerotic rival

at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.

ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:

- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))

- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).

- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!

- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!

- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).

- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!

anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!

[mssorceressupreme]

Hiiii

I think your writing is soo addictive and creative, to me it's like a breath of fresh air, especially because an active Maze Runner blog is so hard 😭🤚

Could I request a Minho X reader, and reader is from one of the other mazes? Could you have her be really funny, always cracking puns and that's what she said jokes, loud, laughs a lot and is fun to be around .And she escapes with Aris, and she's a total badass in combat, and had a similar job to Minho so they bond over that lol.

Even if you don't write this, just know your writing is fire, so please never stop.

💕

of course love, I’d be more than happy to write this for you!! 🥰 actually since this prompt is really similar to what I was planning to write for my other POV, “Who Is She?”, I’ll make this a part two to that and weave in the elements of your prompt 🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope this satisfies your idea 😭🫶🏼

——-

Who Is She? Pt. 2

Pairing: Minho x reader

Summary: a second part where Minho and you escape the compound with the others, and deeper feelings arise between the two of you.

Warnings: mild violence, use of guns

———

“I’ll meet Thomas and the others on the other side, promise you’ll find us later?” Aris wanted to make sure you’d be safe before crawling through the vents beneath his bunk.

“Yeah I’ll find you guys, just need to do something real quick.” You affirmed, before the both of you parted ways, leaving your room for good.

The other members from your glade, were at the dining hall, you and Aris, however, wanted to grab this opportunity to escape the compound.

You shut the heavy metal door behind you, the screech was loud enough to draw attention to your room, but thank goodness there weren’t any guards around.

Or so you thought.

As you turned a corner, you were met with a large, intimidating figure. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he growled, his grip like iron as he grabbed your arm, yanking you harshly.

“Let go of me!” You snapped, treating to wrench your arm free, but as you did so, you managed to swiftly slip your hand inside his pocket and steal his ID card. The card that would hopefully grant you guys access through these high security doors.

“Let go!” You continued, but with each plea, his grip grew stronger. “I said let—”

“Let go.” Minho appeared on the end of the hallway, slowly making his way towards us. The guard glared at him, his grip no looser than before.

“As the host, I thought you’d have more decorum, some respect with how you treat your guests.” Minho frowned, “Don’t you agree Y/N?” He turned to you.

You smiled slyly, knowing what Minho was capable of, his confident demeanour was such a turn on for you. Man, it was hot when a guy knew what he was doing, confidently, at that.

The guard sneered, “This is none of your business. Get back to the dining hall.”

Minho’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching, “Let her go. Now.”

The guard’s grip faltered for a moment, but he didn’t release you. “Or what?”

Minho swiftly pulled out a gun, the metallic click echoing ominously in the hallway. The guard’s eyes widened in shock. “Where did you get that?!”

Without hesitation, Minho fired, the bullet sending an electric shock through the guard’s body. He collapsed to the ground, twitching as the current coursed through him.

Minho grabbed your hand, pulling you into a run.

“How did you find me? This place is like a maze,” you panted as the two of you sprinted down the corridor.

Minho flashed a proud grin, “Oh, trust me, mazes are my forte. I was a runner back in the glade.”

Your face lit up upon the common ground he just shared, “Nice to know I’m escaping with a fellow runner.”

“Why weren’t you with Aris? If I didn’t find you, you could’ve been…”

You took out the ID card and showed him, “To get this. Could be our way out.”

He nodded, “Not bad, I suppose runners are the smartest of the bunch.”

“A statement I will not defy.” You smirked.

“This way,” You continued to hold hands as he led you through the compound, all too easily. He had this whole placed mentally mapped out in a few days, which was impressive.

As he ran, you snuck a few glances at him, eyeing him up and down. The way he led you, his confidence, the way his black compression shirt hugged his physique perfectly, making his biceps evident. It made you drool internally, but no way would you ever admit that aloud.

Eventually, you both found the others, who managed to get Teresa out. Apart from reuniting with the others, we also now found that there were multiple troops of guards chasing after us, that’s lovely!

“Come on, we gotta go!!” Thomas urged everyone, “This way!!”

“Why are they shooting at us?!” Frypan yelled, dodging what seemed to be never-ending bullets.

“Anyone have ideas on how we’re going to make it through that bloody vault door?” Newt looked around frantically, seeking answers.

“Here! I’ve got it!” You pulled the card out of your pocket, swiping it multiple times before the door finally turned green, granting you access to escape. (a/n: their escape scene is a bit different from the movie lol)

As soon as you made it past the door, Aris smashed the keypad, sealing the doorway between the guards, Janson, and your group. Winston grabbed a pistol, which was resourceful.

“Good thinking, let’s grab some of their stuff while we can.” You instructed, grabbing a gun yourself, and a backpack.

The others followed through before Thomas hurried you lot once more, “Come on, we’ve got to go! Keep moving!”

You arrive at the main door, towering over the group of you. Thomas wasted no time pulling the lever, and Minho held out his hand for you to hold before officially escaping the compound.

“Just keep going!” Minho urged the group, “we’ll loose them in the storm.”

Teresa came across an abandoned mall, and decided to enter, “Come on! Get down here!”

The group of you entered down one by one, finding temporary refuge in a cracked, dilapidated mall. The blistering heat of the scorch was relentless, but Minho stayed close to you, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

“Let’s pack some of this stuff up, anything you think you might need. We’ll split up, see what we can find and meet back here.” Thomas instructed, to which you nodded.

You wandered off alone, exploring the place with a tiny torch. The runner instincts in you had not diluted at all since the maze.

“Trying to get rid of me so fast?” Minho called out as he jogged up to you.

You chuckled, “Just wanted to explore that’s all.”

“Let’s do that together then, you’ll need this.” He tossed you a larger torch.

“Better.” You affirmed, turning it on.

“This place is dead silent…we could be as loud as we want and no one would hear us for miles.” You said, as you explored the mall.

Minho held back his laughter, “That’s what she said.”

You paused momentarily, before recalling what you said. We can be as loud as we want. I’d definitely be vocal for you Minho. “Whatever.” You playfully punch him, rolling your eyes but biting back a smile.

Under the moonlit sky, you and Minho shared a quiet moment. You stood in the soft glow of the broken mall’s atrium, a moonlight ray shining through the glass roof. The silver light casting ethereal shadows around you.

“I feel like now might be the perfect time to say…thank you,” You began, “…for saving me.” Your voice soft with gratitude.

“Of course, we needed that key card of yours.” He witty remarked earned another punch from you.

“Dick.” You chuckled.

Minho smiled, eyes warm and sincere, “I’ll always be there for you. You can trust me.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled with unspoken words and mutual understanding.

“You know, uh, I’m glad that it was you I ran into at the hallway that day.” You confessed, out of everyone in the world, you were glad that it was Minho you met that day.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled softly, before Thomas and the others ran over to you guys.

“RUN! RUN!” He shouted. The two of you stood there, squinting at his unusual behaviour.

“Oh shit!” You said in unison, as the two of you pieced together the fact that weird zombie like humans were chasing you. (a/n: they didn’t know the definition of cranks yet).

“Well, let’s hope we make it out alive!” You ran alongside Minho.

“If we do, will you marry me?” Minho blurted out, while sprinting.

“What?!” You were breathy, but a rush of adrenaline surged through you.

“Ignore what I said!” He yelled, turning back to get a view of our chasers.

“Only if you let me be your girlfriend first!” You shouted back amidst the running.

“Deal!”

[doingnotsogoodalso]

thunderbolts wing thoughts under tha cut because it's actually long.

Now you might be thinking (as in I am always thinking) there are so many guns all the time so much concrete and glass and dangerous materials for such delicate limbs to be out. Which is why I'm implementing the common sense rule of keep-it-in-your-fuck-ing-costume(and-stop-wearing-just-hoodies-yelena) or KIIYFIC. When applicable.

The bird of prey wings I give super soldiers (Bradley with epic hawk wings dot png he deserves them) and supers of that general type are often too large proportional to their lame human bodies to fit comfortably. Maybe an in world point for Why The Shield? Wing Shields!

It's fun to draw big wings shielding people you understand.

What does this mean for the taco shield literally do not even worry about it. Don't worry about it.

Ava keeps her hummingbird wings proportionally small and easily foldable in her suit, easy! Do they phase also and need to be covered with torches or material? Why does her suit material turn invisible? I do not know and I'm not willing to watch AMatW after being burned by Quantumania.

Bucky I've seen be given metal wings in times of old but I'm kind of unwilling to fuck with the extent and implications of his disability and limb differences for funny bird when it's already so mishandled, so sorry James. So we're keeping the bat hawk wins because they're Metal in Style. Sleek and swag. Congratulations James.

Yelena also has smaller wings, they're also black and white and I personally think they would look great with her outfits. Monotone as they are. Does she disguise her wings for operations don't know she doesn't change her hair. The red room isn't crazy about disguises. Maybe because they're so good you'd never get a profile on them ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Alexei I don't like you but I think that your Black Widow Ohio Look is the funniest thing and I think this random Dahmer-looking suburban guy should have giant fuck off wings.

I'm attached to pigeon Bob now thank you commenter. I hope he leaves dust all over everything all the time. I hope someone startles him and it's the loudest thing in the world (pigeons have a 'noise feather'). Godspeed.

John I'm putting in a blender. I think he's just as awful with regulating with his wings as he is everything else like a giant emotional banner that's knocking over furniture and probably Bob. Ruffled feathers. Why are you posturing in the kitchen you're fine. You're hitting the ceiling.

Did super soldiers have different wings before if they're so personal in choice? Yeah Probably but I don't know how that'd work and I'm unwilling to figure it out right now. Steve Rogers grew new bones and muscles in like ten minutes they'll be fine.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 75 ~ What Lies Ahead

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 6

✧ Word Count : 6.8k

In this chapter ~ The group discovers a new threat to Alexandria; a herd of walkers that were unleashed from where they were once trapped. They must now figure out a way to draw the flesh-eating monsters away from the place they now called home. But of course, things don't exactly go according to plan.

"Look, I know this sounds insane...but this is an insane world. We have to come for them, before they come for us. It's that simple." Rick announced as we all stared at the scene before us.

A giant herd of walkers were trapped in the quarry ahead, a number of semi-trucks lodged on either end of the open pit that prevented them from escaping. None of us knew how the pile up happened, or how the hell so many of them had managed to get stuck, but all we knew was that we needed to take care of it. Fix it before it became a problem. If we let this go on any longer, one of the trucks could give out without us knowing, and then the herd would be heading straight for Alexandria.

"This is where it all starts tomorrow!" he continued, "Tobin gets in the truck, opens the exit and we're off. He hops out and catches up with his team at red, staying on the west side of the road. Daryl and Rose get on the bikes-"

But his voice was suddenly drowned out by the loud sound of rumbling coming from just the other side of the quarry.

"You see that?" Sasha yelled.

Our attention was drawn to where one of the vehicles that was blocking the exit, slowly falling into the large open space, giving the walkers an opening to escape from the far side. My eyes widened as the opportunity became greater and greater for them to slip through the cracks, not giving us the chance to wait until tomorrow like we planned. We wanted to be able to control this, to lead them away from the community, and now it was all happening abruptly.

"It's open! We gotta do this now!" Rick called out urgently.

Upon hearing that, the rest sprang into action and headed toward the vehicles we were meant to take for each of our roles in the plan. We all seemed to have the same panicked looks printed on our faces, yet a determination in our eyes, wanting to protect the safeness of our home more than anything.

"Tobin's group, get moving now! Go!" Rick shouted.

"No, Rick we aren't ready!" Carter tried to protest.

He ignored him, "Sasha! Abraham! You meet Daryl and Rose at red. Let them take the walkers through the gauntlet."

"Yeah, we meet at red." Sasha confirmed with a nod of her head before she and Abraham quickly climbed into the maroon painted car.

"Get ready to hit the flares!" Rick yelled right before he gave Tobin the signal to open up the entrance, letting the walkers out.

I saw the red car disappear out of the corner of my eye, keeping my focus solely on the two semis that were slowly being pulled apart by the large pickup and strong chains, the dead clawing their way out the second they had the chance. The magazine of the machine gun I held clicked as I loaded it, firing a few bullets at the first few I saw while slowly backing up, using the sound to draw them closer alongside everyone else. And when I saw the red flares, I knew it was time to move.

The cars around peeled out of the area to head to their selected checkpoints, leaving no more than a cloud of dust behind. I dashed in the other direction with my eyes locked downward, reloading my gun and strapping it across my torso before hopping onto the motorcycle. It loudly roared to life when I started it, sensing Daryl following suit beside me to straddle his own bike, securing his weapon around him. My eyes drifted to the side mirror, revving the engine a few times to train the walkers attention directly onto us. The decaying eyes easily caught onto all of our noise, their snarls intensifying as they dragged their feet in our direction. Leading the pack of them straight toward us.

"Ya ready?" Daryl called out.

I nodded subtly, "As I'll ever be..."

With one last lingering look to one another, the two of us took off at the same time down the dirt road. All of the walking dead following close behind us.

"Sorry I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world is going to need Rick Grimes."

I read that last part over and over so it would echo in my mind. The new world. That felt like the right thing to call this period of time, and Rick Grimes just so happened to fit the role.

After introducing myself to the man named Morgan, Rick didn't waste any time taking the two of us, alongside Daryl, back to the house to get everything straight. And partly to be out of such a public eye. I had learned a great deal of things on our journey back, but the one that remained the most important was Morgan was the man that had saved Rick's life in the very beginning of all of this. The first person he came across after waking from his coma. He had sacrificed a great deal for Rick and now just recently saved Daryl from what I had briefly overheard...I liked him already.

The house was quiet as we all lingered in the kitchen, sitting myself at one of the barstools of the island with Daryl practically glued to my side. Loudly slurping some cereal like he hadn't had a real meal in months. Though despite his eagerness to get something in his stomach, he continued to offer me bite after bite even though I insisted I wasn't hungry, he wouldn't stop until I ate. It was like the second he caught a glimpse of my beaten face, he felt guilty he wasn't here to prevent it, and was now trying to make up for it in every possible way.

"You were right." Morgan spoke up, looking toward Rick with a smile, "It wasn't over."

Rick nodded to himself, his eyes glancing around the room as if looking for something to fill the awkward silence in the air. But it was clear he didn't want to get into anything in front of the two of us. "We should talk more about this tomorrow. But listen...I don't take chances anymore."

Morgan hummed in understanding, "And you shouldn't."

Another pause drifted through the room, almost as if Rick didn't know how to act around such a familiar face he hadn't seen in what felt like years. When no one else had the urge to speak I tried to defuse the tension a bit, especially since the man couldn't have walked in at a worse time witnessing Rick blatantly murder someone.

"So, you two go way back, huh?" I questioned.

"Yeah, we really do." Morgan confirmed, "Hardly knew a thing when we crossed paths. Looked like an idiot trying to kill his first walker." he tried to joke.

I bit back a laugh upon seeing Rick's reaction to his comment, "Oh yeah, I'd love to hear about it."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Rick abruptly cut him off, "I don't think we need all this tonight. We should just...rest up."

"Rick, come on." I said, sending him a look, "At least let him get settled a bit."

He just shook his head, "No, we're all tired. Let's just turn in for the night, yeah?"

"Ya look like shit man." Daryl piped up, "Better wash up before anythin."

Rick scoffed, "Right." he muttered, before nodding toward Morgan to follow him to show where he would be staying.

The man seemed to instantly get up to follow him out, not putting up much of a fight considering he was in our territory now. Wanting to abide by the rules Rick was setting in stone. But a part of me felt a little bad for him, knowing exactly what Rick meant when he said he wasn't taking any chances. He would plan on keeping Morgan in one of the cell-like rooms until they talked properly. And after seeing it for myself, it wasn't particularly cozy.

The front door closing brought me out of my head, and I immediately glanced over toward Daryl to find he was already staring at me. "Go ahead." I whispered.

His eyes saddened the longer he looked, but he couldn't quite open his mouth to speak. I shifted myself off of my seat to come closer and stand between his legs, raising my hand to move some of the hair that was stuck to his face. "Come on. Ask me."  I tried again.

A heavy breath escaped him as he felt my touch, "What happened?"

"I'm glad you asked," I said lightheartedly which earned a scoff from him, "There was a fight that got a little too out of hand. The doctor here, he was abusing his wife. His family. And the second Rick and I tried to stop it; he obviously lashed out and did some damage. But everything's fine...I'm fine."

He studied me. Hung onto every word I was saying as if trying to decipher if I was telling the whole truth. Gripping onto every last detail. "Same asshole Rick just shot?"

I nodded, "That's the one."

"Would've taken care of the son of a bitch myself." he spoke lowly.

"Oh, I'm sure you would've, honey." I said sweetly, taking the time to brush his hair back again, "But don't worry about it, okay? It's done."

He studied me for a moment longer before reluctantly nodding his head, his arms coming up to wrap around me and draw me in even closer, "I missed ya." he mumbled into my shirt.

I laughed softly, "You have no idea." I muttered as I ran my fingers through his hair soothingly.

It didn't take long for us to trail back to our own home and stay within each other's reach for the rest of the night. Talking nonstop for what felt like forever as we each swapped stories about how terrible the past couple days had been for the both of us. While he was out there dealing with a group of dead ones that trapped him and Aaron in a car for hours, I was stuck in a different sense dealing with something just as dangerous. In hindsight it all seemed pretty dreadful, but I felt it was worth it just to be in this moment with him again.

I missed this. And I found comfort in knowing that I would sleep soundly tonight, not worried about the dangers lurking outside as long as he was right here.

The sound of Rick's voice roughly came through the walkie that Daryl had attached to his jacket, reminding everyone of what their job was as we all spread out in different directions. I could still feel my heart racing at how unexpectedly things had gone downhill, feeling not at all prepared for the turn of events. But we didn't have much of a choice now, just a very long and dreadful drive onward.

My eyes briefly flickered down to the speedometer to see we were going about fifteen miles an hour, just fast enough to stay out of reach of the dead continuing to trail on our asses. I kept checking my mirrors every few seconds, a little paranoid that something would go wrong even though things seemed to be running smoothly thus far. Well, as far as smoothly could go considering the walkers managed to get out a whole day earlier than we had anticipated.

"How ya doin?"

I looked over when I heard Daryl's voice cut through all the noise, nodding my head reassuringly. "Fine...just still a little shook up. I hope everyone's alright."

"Yeah, me too," he agreed with a shake of his head, glancing back at the horde with a furrow of his brow. It seemed to be doubling in size already, there had to be thousands that were stuck in that quarry until they were starving. The two of us probably looked like two giant pieces of steak that they just couldn't get a hold of fast enough.

He glanced back over to me after a moment, eyeing the motorcycle I rode, "The bike runnin okay?"

I sent him a knowing look, "Yes, it's running fine. You know, I think the guy who fixed it up has a little crush on me. He did it for free."

He grinned, "Nah, I think it's gonna cost ya."

"Oh, yeah? How much?"

He thought to himself for a moment, tapping his fingers on the handles before saying, "Fifty kisses...and a massage." he quickly added at the end.

I laughed and nodded along to his terms, "Alright, done. I guess I'll have to start paying up by the time we get back."

"Guess so." he shrugged, sending me a wink before looking back at the road in front of us.

I woke the following morning feeling sore and a little disoriented, my lower back especially throbbing from the extra weight of uncertainty that I still continued to carry. Blindly I reached out to the other side of the bed to try and feel for him, but the space beside me was cold and empty. Not that it surprised me much, that man always woke up at the crack of dawn.

My brows furrowed a little as I opened my eyes to see if he was anywhere around the room, until I spotted what was sitting on the nightstand. It was a little piece of torn paper with my name scribbled across it, accompanied by a pretty yellow flower. I smiled to myself before reaching out to pick it up, reading over what he had wrote.

"I'm outside working on the bike. Take your time waking up, come out and keep me company.

-D <3

P.S. Saw the flower and thought of you."

His sweet words only made my smile soften. I really had missed him beyond what I could fathom.

It didn't take me long then to get up and put on some real clothes so I could head outside and join him. The house was filled with a comforting kind of silence as I headed through the kitchen, not at all like the sinking feeling that had been present the past couple days. With everything going on and the high tension flooding the community, it felt nice to sense that things were actually moving forward now for the better. I pulled a couple granola bars from the pantry before heading out the front door, seeing him hunched over in the driveway working on his prized possession.

My approaching footsteps caught his attention almost immediately, his head turning to glance over his shoulder at me with a scrunch of his face that could only be caused by the blinding sun. "Mornin." he greeted.

I smiled, "Goodmorning." I repeated before sitting myself down beside him, extending one of the bars out to him, "You hungry?"

"Oh, uh..." he trailed off before raising his hands to show they were coated with grease and other kinds of disgusting grime. I shook my head in amusement before opening the wrapper myself, holding it up to his mouth so he could take a bite without touching it.

"How does she run?" I asked as I gestured toward the bike.

"Great," he mumbled with his mouth full, "Was makin a weird noise towards the end of the trip, wanted ta take a look before we go back out."

My brows furrowed a little in concern, but I shook it off quickly before he was able to notice, "Right..." I nodded, "You guys are leaving again soon?"

He glanced back at me again, offering a small shrug, "Dunno yet, Aaron hasn't said nothin. Why, you tryin to get rid of me?" he joked.

"No," I huffed softly, "I'm just asking. I'd like to know how much time I can get with you before you're off out there again."

I noticed how his gaze softened a bit before turning to face me properly, "If ya didn't want me doin this...you would tell me, right?"

"Hey, I was the one who encouraged it." I assured softly, "I want you to get out there as much as you want. I want you to put yourself first for a change."

He scoffed with a shake of his head, "Ain't ever gonna put myself first as long as yer around, baby."

My eyes rolled playfully but I couldn't stop myself from smiling, "Fine. Do whatever you want, I give up." I mumbled sarcastically.

I heard him chuckle deeply before he wrapped an arm around my frame to tug me closer, leaning down to peck my lips a few times. Each one a little bit longer than the last to melt the fake frown right off of my face.

"M' gonna keep doin it," he murmured as he brought his forehead to rest against mine, "But trust me, m' plannin to be here a lot more than out there."

His reassuring tone brought a sense of relief to me, nodding my head in agreement. I just wanted him happy, no matter what the cost was. But what I really needed to do was accept the fact that I was a big part of his happiness, still finding it hard to convince myself of that at times. It might seem ridiculous, but I was continuously in disbelief of the luck I was given in receiving a man like him.

He placed one final kiss on my lips before pulling back a bit, "Alright, now gimmie another bite." he said playfully before leaning down toward my hand to eat more of the granola bar.

I laughed softly as he turned back to continue to tinker with the motorcycle in front of us, picking up a new tool with a quiet grunt. The wheels were turning in my head while my gaze lingered on him, finding I had an idea.

"You should let me drive this one sometime." I stated casually.

His movements halted momentarily before he turned back to raise a brow at me, "It don't work exactly like the last one."

"I know." I nodded confidently, "But I think I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, why's that?"

"I have a pretty good teacher." I winked.

He glanced at me once again with a somewhat bashful grin on his face, "Stop..." he muttered in slight embarrassment, his neck flushing a bit red.

A small silence settled over us again while he continued to work, leaning back on my hands and crossing my ankles out right in front of me comfortably. I took in the surroundings of the settlement, watching people out and about this morning yet it was a little different than what we had gotten used to. After everything that happened last night, it was clear that the people were still a bit shaken at how it all escalated, and I couldn't even imagine how Deanna was handling it at all.

She was finally starting to see the harsh reality of the real world, but at the cost of losing yet another person she loved. I couldn't predict what she planned to do now; continue to run this place? Or have Rick take over like we've been pushing for since the beginning? He could do it, but it all seemed like a lot. Especially since he hasn't tried to lead a large group like this in...well, ever. The prison didn't really count in my eyes considering he just mostly kept to himself and the crops, while everyone on the council made all the big decisions. I couldn't help but wonder how he was handling all this as well.

"What if we get cha one?" Daryl asked suddenly.

I snapped back into reality, "One what?"

He gestured to the motorcycle in front of him, "A bike. What if I found ya one and fixed it up for ya? Would ya ride it?"

My eyes brightened with excitement, "You'd really do that?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, "Noticed there's a dump not too far from here, that place is probably a goldmine for hunks of junk."

"But you'd make it really pretty and shiny for me, right?"

He chuckled, "Course...anythin for ya."

I smiled sweetly at him before leaning in to leave a quick kiss on his cheek, only to pull away with a scrunched up nose when I tasted whatever kind of dirt had gotten on his skin. He chuckled in amusement as I wiped my lips off a few times, turning my head to spit whatever had gotten in my mouth. "Gross."

"I'll wash up before I come back inside." he promised.

"Yeah, you better." I muttered, taking my sleeve to wipe my lips one last time, "I don't want a trail of mud to follow you on our nice clean floor."

He hummed in amusement as he unscrewed another bolt, "Yes ma'am."

My hand reached out to gently nudge his side, before instinctively glancing up at the sound of someone's approaching footsteps that came from just down the street, seeing Rick heading over with a serious expression on his face. That alone caused my heart to sink a little. Leave it to him to always ruin my mood.

He nodded to us in greeting before resting his hands on his hips, "Morgan's all settled in." he announced.

"He okay with it?" Daryl grunted.

The man shrugged, "It was pretty much his idea. He gets it."

"I don't know...I don't really like the fact that we had him sitting in there like a caged animal overnight." I muttered as I glanced up at him.

"He gets it." Rick repeated, "He wasn't stable the last I saw him...I want to make sure he's okay before I put my trust in him again."

The two of us nodded in reluctant agreement, understanding his reasoning. Though clearly not expecting this kind of welcome. "You know, he told me what happened out there with the trucks."

"Did he tell ya about the guy's he saw...with the W's." Daryl gestured on his forehead.

"Just like the walker I saw out there, yeah. We need more watch points. And I'm going to tell Deanna we don't need to go looking for people anymore."

My brows furrowed, "But they just started recruiting again, why would you want them to stop now?"

"It's not safe." he said simply, "People out there, they gotta take care of themselves." There was a beat of silence between us as he chewed on his lip in thought, but seemingly came to terms with the decision he made in the end. "I'm gonna take Morgan out of there. Shouldn't leave him longer than we have to."

My eyes narrowed a little as I watched him walk away, feeling my good mood suddenly drift away just as I expected.

"Well, that's that." Daryl said with a small shrug.

I frowned slightly before reaching down to squeeze his arm, "I'm sorry, love...I know how much you liked that job."

"Pfft, you kiddin?" he scoffed, "Now I can spend more time here. Hang around and bug ya whenever I want."

I paused for a short moment, "...Is it too late to try and change Rick's mind?"

"Hey!" he laughed at my dry response, reaching over to gently pinch my side which caused me to squeal.

I looked ahead to see the familiar red balloons coming into view, the same ones we had set up merely hours ago to the selected spot where we needed to meet. The walkie abruptly clicked on once more, hearing Sasha's voice breaking through the mild static, "We're at red, at the bottom of the hill."

Daryl reached up to speak into the device, "Alright. Here comes the parade."

The two of us began to pick up speed slightly as we came down the decline, still keeping a safe distance away from the walkers. I could almost feel their cold, dead fingers trying to grasp at us every time I checked back to see how far away they remained. But as I took another glance at my right mirror, I could spot a handful of them trailing off into the woods.

My hand retracted to make the engine grumble again in hopes it would draw them back onto the road to follow the rest, needing to keep them all in line. And while it grasped their attention again, I couldn't help but notice something strange while I was distracted with the ones who wandered. I squinted my eyes to see a specific corpse had what looked to be the letter "W" carved into its forehead, the same marking we were briefly discussing not long ago. Although I couldn't put a finger on why, something about seeing it made me oddly uncomfortable.

Our bikes smoothly glided onto the main road once we reached the bottom, seeing the car Sasha drove pulling out in front of us once she saw we were close enough. Daryl nodded to them wordlessly before we began to follow behind the vehicle toward the next color of balloons lined up.

I glanced over at Daryl once we were safely on the steady road, deciding to speak up. "Hey," I called to grasp his attention, "When you guys were talking about the guys with the W's. What exactly was that all about?"

"I dunno," he answered honestly, "Aaron and I saw some dead bastard with that marking on him. Thought it was nothin...til Morgan mentioned he had a run in with a guy that had the same thing carved into his head."

I nodded slowly, "You think it's a cult or something?"

"Could be." he agreed, briefly glancing ahead to make sure he was driving straight.

I went quiet for a moment, almost not wanting to say what I was thinking out loud. "Should we be worried?"

His gaze softened a bit upon hearing my obvious concern, "Nah. Even if something happens, we can handle it."

Nodding my head again, I managed to flash a little smile before looking forward again. I didn't want to worry about the potential outcome for any longer than I had, knowing we had much more important things to focus on.

Sitting in one of the far corners of the room, I scanned around thoroughly at the people that were crowding one by one into Deanna's living area. Needing to discuss a new problem that had unexpectedly occurred.

A man named Heath had just returned from a two weeklong supply run alongside his friends Annie and Scott, only to come back and report that something serious was building to the point of no return. Thousands of walkers had allegedly been trapped in a quarry not too far away from here, and the pressure was getting dangerously close to cracking. He went onto explain how people in the past must've tried to block the exits the best they could, but it just wasn't working, and the amount was just getting too high to ignore anymore.

So of course, we needed to take care of it. Why is it always something?

"So, all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound and they're just making more of it. Drawing more in." Michonne had concluded.

"And here we are," Rick said, "Now, what I'm proposing I know sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us. This isn't about if it gives, it's when. It's gonna happen, that's why we have to do this soon."

There was silence all around us and Daryl and I shared a nervous glance as we stood side by side up against the wall. I knew we could take care of this once we had the plan settled out, but I was more anxious that everyone around us would underestimate themselves, which could ultimately cause us to fail. We couldn't be weak when it came to things like this.

Carol was the first one to break the tension, "This is...I don't even have a word for it- this is terrifying. All of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

"We're going to do what Rick says." Deanna spoke up, "The plan he's laid out."

I smiled a little to myself. She was trusting him.

"I told you all, we're going to have Daryl and Rose leading them away on the bike," Rick continued.

"I'll help too." Sasha spoke up, "I'll take a car, ride next to them. It can't just be those two. I'll keep them coming, they keep them from getting sloppy."

Abraham stood, "I should go with her. It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

Rick nodded, "We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on, so Rosita, Spencer, and Holly are out. So, who's in?"

"Me." Michonne said almost immediately.

Glenn and Maggie seemed to have a small, hushed discussion on the couch before Glenn nodded his head towards Rick, "I'm in."

"I'd like to help as well." Gabriel piped up quietly.

"No," Rick shut down without missing a beat, "Who else?"

There was a brief pause as everyone glanced around the room to see who would speak up next, before a man named Carter put himself forward, "There's gotta be another play. We can't control that many."

"I said it before; walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something is drawing them. That's how we can get them all at once." Rick explained.

"So what? We're just supposed to take your word for it? We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you after..." Carter trailed off, suddenly seeming to regret his choice of words.

"After what?" I challenged, daring him to say something else.

His gaze snapped back up when he heard my unexpected comment, "After he waved a gun around, screaming and pointing it at other people. After he shot a guy in the face. After he-"

"Enough." Deanna snapped.

Her words put an end to our bickering, leaving another quiet moment lingering in the room. "...I'll do it." Heath suddenly offered.

"Me too." Serena spoke up.

"Whatever you need, I'm in." Tobin said.

People from all corners of the room then began to join in to my surprise, even Nicholas stepped up and said he would gladly come along. I didn't know if I trusted him, hardly at all after seeing how beaten and bruised Glenn was after spending last night with him alone. But in this kind of situation, everyone counted.

"The plan, go through it again." Carter requested.

Daryl huffed, "Man, he just said it."

He brushed him off, "Every part again. The exact plan."

I sighed and leaned my head against the wall behind me. This was going to be a long ass meeting.

The group of us had managed to make it a few miles out which only left my mind drifting. No one really warns you when you sign up for these kinds of things that it can slowly become mind numbingly boring. Your eyes scanning over the same things repeatedly as time seemed to go by impossibly slower.

The only thing that was really keeping my spirits high now was the fact that I was able to take out my new bike. I don't know how, but within the week of trying to plan this entire thing, Daryl had actually went out time and time again until he managed to find a motorcycle to fix up for me just like he promised. It was an older model and a little beat up, but I loved it. And I loved the look on his face even more when he proudly presented it to me for the first time. It warmed my heart how much he beamed with pride just by bringing me back something special.

"You seein this?"

My attention diverted from the road to where Daryl was gesturing, seeing that a small group of walkers were slowly veering a little too far off to the right. Again, seeming to have more interest in the woods than continuing on with the herd. I tried to make some noise to get them back in place, but this time it didn't seem to work. Like they were already too far out to care about where we were attempting to lead them on.

I racked my brain on how to try and get them back before they ran into another one of our groups within the trees, but the sound of the car door opening in front of us made my thought process come to a complete halt. Abraham abruptly swung the passenger side door open and leap out in some kind of rush, before heading straight in the direction of the forest to chase after the walkers. My brain almost couldn't even fathom what he was doing.

"Hey-" I tried to warn as he sprinted past me, but he didn't listen.

Instead he kept going, waving his arms around and screaming like a goddamn lunatic trying to get their attention. "Abraham! What the hell are you doing? Get your ass back here!" I yelled after him, but he couldn't seem to hear me over his own yells and laughter.

I huffed in irritation and tried to keep an eye on his figure to pinpoint how far he was willing to go, spotting him weaving through the trees. All the sound he was making eventually grasped their attention again, getting them to follow behind him as they obviously picked up their pace to try and reach for him. He swerved through the ones in his way, having to kill about one or two before making a complete break for it back to the car.

I wanted to stop this bike, stop the whole thing and just beat the shit out of him for doing something like that. Nearly gave me a goddamn heart attack while Daryl watched the whole thing in amusement.

He quickly ran past me, "I'm gonna kick your ass! Don't do that!" I yelled after him.

"I'm still alive, Missy!" he called back.

"Not when I get my hands on you!"

He smiled at me while he laughed in pure delusion, before hopping back into the moving car, allowing myself to let out a breath of relief knowing that he was okay. Although I looked over to Daryl in slight disbelief, he however didn't look phased in the slightest.

"Ginger's are crazy." he put simply.

"Yeah, batshit crazy." I agreed.

The plan was set in stone; all that needed to happen now was to execute it.

A few small groups began clearing the areas, setting up the number of checkpoints where the others would eventually meet. Their jobs were simple, set up the right color of balloons so people would know which is which and make sure it was free of walkers, prepped with supplies just in case an emergency happened and they needed to hunker down. All while we would be leading them away from Alexandira.

It was pretty simple to some of us how this was supposed to go down, but others obviously had their doubts. I understood that everything was happening very quickly, but this couldn't wait. We couldn't just brush this off. So, personally I wanted to tell them to suck it up and move on.

A few of us were heading to the armory to check and see how many spare weapons and ammo we had for when we would do this. If everything worked out the way we anticipated, we could get this done and over with within a week.

Rick opened the door for the rest of us to pile in, only to pause in surprise when we saw Eugene on the ground with a fearful face, Carter pointing a gun straight at his head from above. Once he heard the door open, his head whipped over to our direction, his skin instantly growing pale.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked in disbelief.

But he didn't answer me, causing me to glance around the corner to see Spencer, Annie, and Tobin standing off to the side near where the guns were perched. Looking like a bunch of deer in headlights.

"What are you doing?" Rick asked lowly as he fully stepped inside to analyze the situation.

"I'm taking this place back from you." Carter said, his grip tightening on his gun and a slight quiver lacing his voice.

Rick looked a little taken aback, his gaze turning towards the others who were present in the room, "That's what you were talking about in here?"

"It's what he was talking about." Spencer said with his hands raised in defense, "The rest of us didn't want any part of it."

Rick just simply nodded his head, "See, I would have set up some lookouts. That would've been the smart thing. You know...if I happened to-" he suddenly cut himself off and snapped Carter's arm back to snatch the gun back from him before the man could do any damage.

Once he had it in his hands, he shoved the man onto the floor and pointed the weapon at his face while tilting his head at him. I took a subtle step back to offer Eugene a hand, helping him back up to his feet as we all watched the ugly scene unfold.

"You really think you're gonna take this community from us?" he asked with an edge to his tone.

The man couldn't respond, looking up at him with wide eyes and now looking more like a kicked puppy than the whole tough guy thing he was trying to pull off. "From Michonne? From Daryl? From Rose? From me? ...Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" Rick continued to question.

"It was just me." Carter whispered. "It- it was just me. Just- just kill me." he muttered in fear.

I looked up at Rick once he said that, seeing that a part of him looked to be considering it. But I knew that couldn't happen. Not when he had killed Pete just last night, and these people were still holding some kind of grudge for it. And by "people" I meant Carter. The room was thick with tension, and nobody wanted to breathe a word as they watched the two men with anticipation. Rick had that same far off look in his eyes, one that was all too familiar for me to recognize, and I didn't want him to do something he regretted later.

"Rick..." I voiced to get his attention.

He met my eyes for a beat, before nodding his head, "Yeah, I'm good...I'm good." he reassured before lowering the gun from his skull to hand it over to me.

I took it from his grasp and quickly tucked it behind my back, "You can try to work with us." Rick told him, "You can try to survive. Would you do that?"

All the man could do was nod his head.

I could tell we were less than a mile away from seeing our next checkpoint, the first real accomplishment we had come across. After the four of us had drew them out to this point, the rest were in the clear to head back home as they had done their part. While we would continue on about twenty more miles to ensure they wouldn't be making it back to the shared community. It seemed like we were in the clear now.

That is until an unexpected sound ripped through the air that made my blood run cold. A car horn blaring through the silent air behind us, distracting almost half of the herd. Son of a bitch, I had to jinx it didn't I?

Daryl immediately pulled out the radio to try and get a hold of someone to see what was happening. Each channel he turned to, no one was there to respond or report back. And right now it seemed impossible to stay calm.

"Rick!" Daryl yelled into the walkie.

A few seconds later, it finally clicked, "I'm here." he said, his voice barely registering over the static.

"What's goin on back there?" he asked.

"Half of them broke off, they're going towards Alexandria." he said with a shaky voice.

My head whipped over to Daryl upon hearing Rick's words, watching his face drop upon processing the one thing we dreaded to hear. And in an instant, I felt that same sense of worry I had brushed off before, somehow knowing from the very beginning that something would go wrong out here.

"Mother dick." I heard Abraham mutter under his breath.

Yeah...mother dick.

~ Thanks for reading!

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[caffeinated-binturong]

It's Complicated: Part 2

Grayson x Reader

[PART ONE]

Synopsis: It's been weeks since you and Grayson first started getting to know each other and now you're torn on what to do and how far to let this continue. Genre: Angst POV: Second Warnings: Cops, guns, survivor's guilt, suicidal ideation, self-sabotage Word Count: 1.5k

—

True to her word, that enforcer and his cronies never came back—they didn’t even return to Zaun as far as you knew. Retaliation was a large concern in the ensuing weeks but you hadn't so much as had a smashed window in that time, so maybe they weren't in a position to do even that.

You didn't bother to ask.

Grayson became something of a common fixture around the café, showing up near the end of the day. At first her presence brought with it unease but after no more incidents and how her just being there kept the other enforcers in line, that began to lessen. It would never go away, there was too much bad and spilled blood for that, but it was tolerable in a way it hadn't been before.

Yet somehow that made it harder for you instead of easier. Business-wise, customer moods were slowly improving but, internally, you were struggling. With the other enforcers, you never forgot what they were or where you stood with them. It was far murkier with Grayson—it alarmed you how quickly and easily you slipped into thinking of her simply as 'Grayson' and how easy it was to forget what she was.

You enjoyed her company but that was the problem—what did it say about you that it had taken so little to make you disregard a lifetime of experience?

“—and he lost it when we told him it wasn’t intimidation, he just didn’t know he had to water the plants to keep them alive and that’s why they were dead,” Grayson recounted one of her recent cases while washing dishes, a background activity as you swapped stories.

��Figures he’d fire the people responsible for doing that and didn’t think to do it himself,” you laugh.

It was through these talks you learned the nightmare that was dealing with the upper houses and council of Piltover. Even for someone with as much power as the sheriff, Grayson still had to deal with petty squabbles and treated as an annoyance whenever she wouldn't break their laws on demand.

It did nothing to improve your opinion of the council or other rich bastards but it did give you some pleasure in knowing enforcers had to deal with a fraction of what you did.

It was by no means comparable but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it.

What did taint it, however, was when you noticed how while you didn’t feel bad about enforcers being treated like they treated Zaunites—the turnaround was more than fair—if you thought of Grayson as only Grayson, your sense of injustice flared. As an enforcer, you relished the reversal. As a friend, you wanted to do something to stop it.

That was the moment you saw the delusion for what it really was. After everything you had seen and been through, did you not deserve some peace? But was that peace worth the cost you were paying? Worth leaving friends behind for? Was this not a betrayal on the most fundamental level? Those were questions that kept you up at night.

“What is it?” Grayson asks, noticing you had withdrawn into yourself.

“Oh, nothing.” You shrug, trying to play it off but it was another sign this had to end.

“Tell me.” Observant as always. You had to wonder how often she interrogated fellow Zaunites using the same tone

With a heavy sigh, you decide it was time to draw the curtains to a close. “What are we doing, Grayson?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, wiping her hands dry to focus on this given your suddenly serious tone.

“You, me. Piltie, Zaunite.” Saying it out loud made it real, made it so you couldn’t run away from the truth anymore. “Hell, you’re the enforcer! What am I supposed to do with that? I grew up terrified of that uniform, saw the people wearing it murder friends—good friends—throughout my life."

“If you mean the uprising, they weren’t the only ones killed.” Of course she would defend the Pilties. Part of you wants to argue that they, the enforcers, had the overwhelming advantage and agreed to the risk when they took the job, how they could have always walked away, but you had a better option.

“They tried to murder me.” You look Grayson hard in the eye, daring her to try to dispute what you had the scars to prove.

“You never told me that,” she says slowly.

“Yeah, well, it’s not the best conversation topic.” It was something you only brought up in certain company and only if you weren’t quite sober, but it was also something that would end this farce once and for all.

Except she doesn’t do what you wanted, doesn't say anything that would give you reason to drive her away. Instead, the sheriff moves to lean beside you, close enough to be a comfort but far enough away to be respectful.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks with surprising compassion despite everything you were doing, assuming there was more going on and you wouldn’t have brought it up for no reason. It threw you off.

You knew by now her sympathy wasn’t a pretense but a lifetime of experience told you enforcers would weaponized sympathy to get what they wanted only to throw you away the moment they got it. You owed Grayson nothing, not anymore. You lit the fuse both of you were avoiding, now you could move on without being an affront to everything you stood for. You want to say no, to shut up and give nothing away.

You also did want to tell her. If she knew, maybe she’d understand why you had such strong reactions to some things, why this was so hard for you. Suspecting wasn’t the same as knowing.

You didn't know which voice to listen to until you did.

“It was after the smoke got really thick,” you tentatively say, taking a shaky breath—these weren’t memories you liked revisiting. “I don’t know the exact time but fires were everywhere. It was hard to see and breath. And the screams!—I still hear those. I only had two friends from my childhood left after all the sickness, violence, simply being born here... but enforcer bullets took them while I watched. We knew it wasn’t going to be safe but they weren’t supposed to die. If I knew they would, I wouldn’t have pushed them to come.”

Without the armour granted by alcohol or someone else taking the focus, your chest tightens in a way you weren’t used to.

“There was a glint through the haze then. I only recognized as a muzzle when it flashed and my ribs were suddenly in agony, that was the only thing that broke the shock I was in. I ran after that, ran past bodies of people I knew and smelled their burning flesh. I don’t know for how long. But if that shot had been on target or the gun hadn’t needed to be reloaded, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” You didn’t add how often you thought about how much easier things would be if things had been slightly different.

“So, yeah…” You don’t know what to say after all that, especially since you only brought it up to hurt Grayson which backfired spectacularly.

“Do you want me to go?”

You think for a moment then shake your head even though you would have done the opposite minutes earlier.

“I can’t change what happened and I can’t change what I am but I will leave if it’s too much.” She was giving you an out. All it would take is one word and you could move on with your life.

“You can always quit,” you say instead, already knowing the answer and resigning yourself to it.

“I’d still be from Piltover.” It was a statement of fact, not chiding you as if you had forgotten, though you didn’t miss what wasn’t said.

“This was easier when I could hate all of you,” you mutter, mainly to yourself.

“I’m glad you don’t,” she says with enough warmth to drive old ghosts back.

“Me, too, I suppose,” you say with a rueful smile.

“I’m also glad that idiot missed.” Not what you’d call them but it surprises you how much you otherwise agreed—it had been a while since you felt that way, if you ever had.

“Mostly missed,” you correct. “Got a nasty scar out of it.”

“You’ll have to show me some time.”

—

A/N: I swear I started this before that plant story came out. I just threw that in there as “ha ha, rich people are paranoid and out of touch” to move the plot forward and be filler… then the news broke and I can't be bothered to change it. Anyway, back to some self-indulgent fics and fluff 'cause I didn't initially plan on this having two parts and could use a break from thinking about real world experiences for a bit.

[penny00dreadful]

CW for this chapter on AO3

Part 1/ Part 3/ Part 5/ AO3

The Cowboys were now convinced that there was valuable treasure to be found below. Why else would they have been set upon by a group of men who both looked and acted like they were a part of a secret society?

Nothing Eddie, Steve or Robin said to them would convince them otherwise. 

Despite Steve’s attempts to argue with them that these people seemed to be wanting to preserve the area and not disrespect it by grave robbing, which was essentially what they were all doing, his arguments fell on deaf ears.

They did concede to strength in numbers, however. Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how an extra three people would improve their strength. Especially since one of those people ended up on his ass the first time he shot a gun, but he supposed Steve and Robin’s skills made up for that. 

As soon as they had resettled their camp a little closer, Robin had broken out the Seagrams whiskey again.

Steve had passed, wanting to keep a clear head in case anything else happened, so the bottle was just passed back and forth between Eddie and Robin and they had managed to make their way through a sizable amount of it.

Robin had passed out with the bottle cradled close to her chest about a half an hour ago, leaving a hammered Eddie and a sober Steve on their own to entertain themselves.

Steve had decided, after Eddie’s display with the elephant gun, that he needed to learn at least a little self defence. And Eddie, bolstered by the alcohol in his blood, had decided that now was the perfect time to learn.

It wasn’t like Eddie was completely inexperienced. He had some bar brawler knowledge but that was about the extent of it. 

Steve was standing in front of him, hands up, palms out, waiting for Eddie to deliver his punch as he had been doing for the last few minutes.

Eddie blew a strand of hair out of his face and raised his fists, glaring at the palm of Steve’s hand like it had personally offended him.

How could a palm offend him?

What kind of scenario could he come up with in his head in which a palm offended him?

Eddie’s sugary-syrup mind could certainly come up with plenty of thoughts of how those palms might not offend him but maybe he shouldn’t be thinking things like that right now.

God damn, why did he drink so much? Drinking always made him horny.

With a large swing, Eddie cracked his fist into Steve’s palm hard and steady but he only had half a second to celebrate his success because he had apparently put all of his balance and working brain cells into his fist and so the rest of his body was left without.

His foot slipped out from under him and with the momentum of his fist, his body followed, tumbling forward and he would have face planted hard into Steve’s chest if Steve hadn’t twisted, allowing him to skate by his body but still catching him fast around the middle.

He slowly lowered Eddie’s limp and giggling figure back to the ground, gently and without seeming to put in much effort at all, apparently able to hold his body weight easily which Eddie tried desperately not to think about. 

In fact, he figured out the perfect way to distract himself.

He squirmed a little, like a kitten trying to get out of a cuddle and when Steve let him go, he crawled on his hands and knees over to Robin’s snoring body, plucked the nearly empty bottle from her hands and sat heavily back on his bum, sending Steve an extremely clumsy wink.

“Do you think that it’s maybe time to slow down?” Steve asked, a small little bewildered grin on his face.

Eddie widened his eyes and stuck his bottom lip out in a big doe-eyed pout. “I know when to say no, sweetheart.”

Steve just laughed quietly to himself with a conciliatory nod, his lashes low and his big hazel eyes glittering through.

“Y’know you…” Steve hesitated, looking back down and starting to draw nonsense patterns in the sand. “You confuse me. I can’t figure you out.”

Eddie shrugged, attempting to be smooth with it, but all of his movements were far too fumbling. 

“Well, where would the fun be if you could? Don’t you like a little mystery with your men, King Steve?”

Steve smiled again, a small, soft thing and he tilted his head. “Maybe. Do you?”

Eddie mirrored him. “Maybe. What have you figured out about me?”

“You know how to bar fight, but you’re a scholar. You dress in a semi-respectable fashion, but you have hidden tattoos and you wear far too much jewellery. Your hair seems to just kind of… exist on top of your head. You don’t do anything with it, but you’re clean shaven and your nails are neat. For some reason, when I asked Rob to help me out, she picked you. A librarian. But you were still able to get me out of prison and stop my execution. You were able to open the puzzle box and according to Rob, you have other unusual skills. Like lockpicking and hotwiring. And there’s like this… shell. You don’t make sense, it’s like you’ve come from two different worlds and… now you’re here?”

“Careful there, Stevie.” Eddie leaned back, resting on his elbows in the sand. “It almost sounds like you’re curious about little old me. A boy can get ideas from thoughts like that.” He rolled his head along his shoulders, allowing his hair to spill over and staring up at the sky, tugging a little at the chain for his pocket watch. “You gonna ask me next what’s a place like me doing in a girl like this?”

He pulled his head back up, turning to bat his eyelashes at Steve and Steve just smirked at him, not bothering to hide that he had been staring at Eddie’s stretched out neck.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve deadpanned. “That’s what I was going to say.”

“Well, sweetheart. There’s not much to tell. Dad was less of an archaeologist and more of a grave robber, very similar to our friends over there,” his knees were bent up as he laid back on his elbows, but he now nudged one knee over in the direction of the other party and instead of extending the effort to pull it back up, he just let it fall heavy to the side. “But eventually, raiding the tombs of the long dead wasn’t good enough for him and he started to just steal from the museums to sell on the black market. I was living with my uncle and my mom by then. Rural Indiana feels like a whole solar system away right now.”

“Rural Indiana, huh?” Steve asked, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah.” Eddie sighed out, before laughing a little to himself. “My uncle still refuses to get electricity. At this stage I don’t know if he ever will. Don’t think he trusts it. What can that electric do for me that I can’t do for myself, son?” He snorted gently to himself again. “Crazy old man.”

He could see Steve grinning at him out of the corner of his eye.

“So how did your mom and your uncle feel about you running away to Egypt to follow your dads career path?”

Eddie rolled his head around. “My dad has nothing to do with my interest in archaeology. That was all my mom. And I’d like to think she would have supported me.” He pulled the pocket watch out, letting it rest loosely in his hand, running his thumb over it. “She was Egyptian, you know.”

“Oh?” Steve skated his eyes across Eddie’s dark hair and then back up into his dark eyes, his head tilting again as he listened, like a fascinated puppy dog.

“Yeah.” Eddie sighed out. “She was… she was a big part of my life. So,” he inhaled again, almost inflating himself to get a barrier back up between Steve and his exposed innards, tucking the watch back into his pocket. “Egypt is in my blood, Harrington. I was born here. Masri is my mother tongue. So, yeah. Now I’m back here, trying to do right.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded. “I get that. But why not continue to stay… stay safe in your museums. Why were you so adamant about coming out here with us?”

“Because what’s there to be scared of? Knowledge is out here just below the surface and I am sick and tired of waiting around for other people to discover it. Why shouldn’t I be able to come out and do it for myself?”

Eddie pushed himself to his feet, well and truly fired up now.

“This is my mother’s country and if my lowlife of a father and people like him can come out here to steal, then why can’t I come out here to learn?” He pointed down at Steve. “I may not be a gunfighter or an explorer or an adventurer, yet. But I am proud of what I am!”

Steve was just grinning up at him now, a little bewildered as Eddie waved his arms around, but also a little charmed. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I–” Eddie thumped his fist against his chest. “–Am a librarian.” He almost growled out, turning his fired up eyes back down.

He had liquid courage as an inhibition inhibitor flowing through him, so he didn’t allow himself to think about it too much, spots starting to dance in his vision as he dropped to his knees and leaned into Steve.

“I’m going to kiss you now, King Steve.” He stated, firm and resolute as Steve’s face began to swim in and out of focus.

Steve raised his eyebrows, disbelieving. “Just Steve. Please.”

Eddie smiled, a big, goofy, uninhibited smile. “Okay.” He muttered. “Just Steve.”

Eddie leaned forward while Steve stayed exactly where he was, watching him with some level of amusement that Eddie wasn’t sure how to take.

But it didn’t really matter anyway, because no sooner had he leaned his centre of gravity over when his eyelids fluttered shut and he fell limp into blackness.

In hindsight, getting blackout drunk in the middle of the desert without a water closet available or an icebox nearby had not been his smartest moment. No bed or even an aspirin in sight to help him through waking up surrounded by sand and with the sun beating down on him like it was on a mission solely to kill him.

But they had a large and hefty supply of water and Eddie practically drowned himself in it as soon as he woke up. Plus, he’d always been able to bounce back pretty quickly. 

So by the time Steve was finished poking at Robin’s cheek, and Eddie was pretty sure she was two seconds away from shooting him in the knee, he turned his attention.

Unfortunately for him, Eddie was already feeling a little better.

Invigorated by the coffee they had brought and the eagerness in his belly to get back to it, Eddie practically bounced down to the chamber below, puzzle box in hand. Steve followed placidly behind and Robin stomped, looking like she’d desire nothing more than to commit double murder at that moment.

Her scowl only got deeper as the three of them heaved, standing the sarcophagus that had fallen through the ceiling the day before upright on the wall; Eddie was practically vibrating as he set the puzzle box key into its lock.

“I’ve dreamed of this day ever since I was a child.” Eddie whispered in anticipation, his fingers flexing on the puzzle box.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “You dream about dead guys?”

Eddie didn’t bother responding, just ignored him, choosing instead to point out the lid of the coffin.

“The sacred spells have been removed. Sarcophagi were supposed to be made for whoever was going in them, so to have them chiselled off…” Eddie shook his head, a little bewildered. “It suggests that this burial was done last minute, quickly, without prep time which… makes no sense.”

He looked at Steve who was waiting for him to continue and Robin who looked unusually grave.

“Mummification takes seventy days to complete.” She said, crossing her arms and eyeing up the coffin with suspicion.

Eddie was more confused than suspicious. He’d never read about such a rushed mummification before. 

“And to have the spells scratched off, it’s a sign of some great wrongdoing.” With his free hand, he brushed his fingers over the deep grooves of the hieroglyphics. “They wanted to send a message to the gods not to let him off so easily. Don’t let him in. Condemn him. So he was condemned in both life and death. This man was cursed… doomed, even.”

Eddie couldn’t understand it. He just hoped that seeing the mummy that was inside would help to provide more answers.

Robin and Steve were sharing the grave look between them now.

“Believe it yet?” Steve asked. “How about we hold on for just a second. We don’t want to release anything cursed–”

Eddie couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes. Cursed. There were no such things as curses.

He didn’t wait for Steve to finish the thought. He turned the key in the lock and the clicking had anticipation zinging through his veins while Steve and Robin gaped at him, outraged.

The lid of the sarcophagus shifted a little and Eddie had a moment of wild panic where he thought oh fuck, maybe there is a curse, but he came back to himself almost immediately, mentally slapping himself for such a ridiculous thought. Clearly the lock had just released the lid and it had shifted because of that.

He gave Steve and Robin a look, as if to say are you going to help me with this?

The two of them shared another grimace before shrugging. 

“If there was a curse, it’s already out.” Robin muttered, moving around to Eddie’s side and placing her hands next to his.

When Steve took his position on the other side, the three of them braced their knees and lifted.

The lid came away surprisingly easily, until it started tilting backwards and the three of them were forced to let go as it went crashing to the ground, followed by the most sickening, stomach churning smell Eddie had ever had the displeasure of smelling before in his life. 

He turned back to the open sarcophagus, expecting to see a human figure wrapped tightly in linens and standing upright in his coffin, but instead the sight he was met with sent him stumbling back a step in horror.

There was a body in the sarcophagus, alright. But he was rotting. Still covered in sloughing flesh, blackened and goopy bones poking out where the skin had fallen away, eyes, nose and tongue missing and jaw hanging open in a gruesome scream.

What little linens he was wrapped in seemed to have partially disintegrated with his body and Eddie was left even more confused than he had been before.

“Smells like the Gillman, don’t you think?” Robin muttered, pinching her nose, eyes darting between Steve and the mummy.

“Is he supposed to look like that?” Steve asked, his upper lip curled in disgust.

“No.” Eddie exhaled, stepping closer again despite the smell. “He’s still…”

“Juicy.” Robin and Steve answered at the same time.

Eddie huffed out through his nose. “Yes. He’s still juicy… but he’s over three thousand years old? It looks like he’s still… decomposing. Mummification involved drying out the body of all moisture. It’s why so many have survived for so long. And the dry conditions of the desert too. But even if the mummification process had been improperly applied… he shouldn’t look like this. He should just be… a skeleton.” 

He was still staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the body in front of him, wondering how the fuck this was possible when he heard a mutter of “Shit,” behind him.

He turned to find Steve kneeling over the fallen lid, tracing his fingers over the series of four parallel lines scratched inside.

They matched perfectly to the pattern his own fingers made.

“Fingernail marks.” Eddie whispered. “Jesus fuck. He was buried alive.”

Eddie tilted his head, reading the words the man had apparently also scratched into the lid.

“Death is only the beginning.”

He looked up just in time to see both Steve and Robin stare at each other, something silent passing between them and simultaneously reaching for their holstered weapons.

“What are you two going to do?” Eddie asked, incredulous, not knowing what the fuck they needed the weapons for. “Shoot him?”

They were all standing now and Steve shifted around a little, standing between Eddie and the mummy.

“If he wakes up. Yes.”

Eddie was starting to wonder if coming along with Steve and Robin had been the best idea he’d ever had. He loved Robin, don’t get him wrong, and Steve had been growing on him… like a boil. But they were so suspicious of everything. It was a little much if he was honest.

But still, he supposed any expedition was better than no expedition at all. 

As he weaved his way through the various tents and workspaces the Cowboys had set up, he was stopped short at the sight of the Egyptologist they had brought along, practically wrestling with a humongous and ancient black book with a familiar indent in the front, same as the one on the sarcophagus, trying to wrestle it open.

Eddie was immediately intrigued. Legend had it that the Book of Amun-Ra was made of solid gold, but this book looked like it was made of obsidian. 

A counterpart to the Book of Amun-Ra.

The Book of the Dead.

And Eddie wanted it.

When the Egyptologist caught sight of him staring, he stopped his abuse of the artefact in his hands and crossed his arms protectively over it, like Eddie was going to snatch it from him at that very moment.

Eddie just scowled. 

“Looks like you need a key.” He said before turning his back and continuing on towards his party, already formulating a plan in his mind for how he could steal it out from under their noses.

Around his party's campfire up ahead, he could see Steve and Robin, but could also see the Cowboys and Tommy sitting around with them.

The Cowboys had the canopic jars they found in their hands, waving them around with little care and were scoffing at the very concept of curses and how everyone seemed to be believing in them so easily.

It made Eddie feel a little guilty. 

He’d thought the same. Said the same.

But it also made him want to snatch the jars out of their hands and put them back where they’d found them. What right did they have?

Eddie’s guilt and irritation was quickly replaced with an almost shocking feeling of jealousy when he saw that Tommy had practically plastered himself against Steve’s side, leaning heavily into him and based on the upward curl of his mouth, he was muttering something teasing into Steve’s ear.

Steve wasn’t looking at him, seemed to be trying to pretend he wasn’t there, but when he heard the sound of Eddie’s approaching footsteps in the sand, Steve glanced up towards him and then turned back to Tommy, finally giving him some attention.

“You’re in his seat.” Steve snapped, his eyes cold and hard. Tommy just raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth for another quip but Steve cut him off. “Move.”

If the hard set of Steve’s jaw was anything to go by, he wasn’t joking around and Tommy seemed to recognise that as well, pushing himself to his feet with a scoff and shoulder checked Eddie hard as he walked away.

Eddie himself had to try to squash the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, almost mad at himself for responding in such a way to a caveman display of masculinity but unfortunately for his sanity, it was really doing something for him.

He sat himself down at Steve’s side and couldn’t help but lean in a little, but not as much as Tommy had been. Steve tilted himself a little, open and welcoming and again: there were those damn butterflies.

Eddie held his hand out. “Look what I found.” He said, the small petrified beetles resting in his palm. “Scarab skeletons, flesh eaters. I found them inside our friend’s coffin.”

Steve snapped his head over to him, his eyes wide in alarm. 

“What were you doing back down there alone?”

Eddie grinned at him, knocking their shoulders together. “What? Afraid the big bad mummy is going to come and get me, Just Steve?” He wiggled his fingers in front of Steve’s face who only responded with a far too serious frown.

Eddie just continued on. “These little guys can stay alive for years feeding on the flesh of a corpse. So it seems that unfortunately for our friend, he was still alive when they started eating him.”

“What the fuck.” One of the Cowboys, Jason, muttered from across the fire, the rest of them watching Eddie with horrified eyes.

“So someone threw these bugs in with our guy and they slowly ate him alive?” Steve asked, picking up one of the beetles.

“Very slowly.” Eddie leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice down to a rumble, putting on a show for the apparently weak stomached Cowboys. “Based on my research, it looks like our friend suffered the Hom-Dai. The worst of all Ancient Egyptian curses. One only reserved for the most evil of blasphemers. But I’ve never read about the curse actually being performed on someone before.”

“That bad, huh?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Well. They never really used it because it was pretty extreme and there was a healthy fear around it. There was a superstition that if a victim of the Hom-Dai should be raised, it would bring down the Plagues upon Egypt again.”

He was too busy examining his beetles to notice Steve and Robin leaning into each other, whispering with pensive faces.

Eddie’s heart was thundering in his chest. 

It had been years since he’d had an excuse to pick a lock and even longer since he had to do it quietly.

The Egyptologist that had come along with the Cowboys was fast asleep, the Book of the Dead locked up tight in his personal travel case and Eddie had taken the first opportunity available to him to break in.

He snatched the book up and scurried away to his own side of camp before he got too excited about his thievery and gave himself away.

Everyone around him was asleep and he kneeled down by the makeshift table next to Steve, trying not to get too distracted by the hair spilling over his eyes in his sleep as he breathed, slow and even, a rifle clutched in his hands.

Eddie shook his head, placing the dense black book down and crawling over as quickly and as quietly as he could, hovering over Robin’s body to slowly pull the puzzle box from her pocket, trying not to wake her up.

He succeeded, looking down on it cupped in his palms.

“This is a very stupid idea.”

 A voice from behind him lowly rumbled and Eddie did jump this time, whipping around to find Steve sitting up, one hand on the black book and his eyes digging into Eddie’s.

Eddie frowned, shuffling back over on his knees, popping open the puzzle box and all but slamming it down onto the lock on the front cover.

“It’s just a book, Steve.” 

Steve snatched his hand back as Eddie twisted the lock, perhaps with a little too much force and snapped his eyes down.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them, Steve no doubt unsure about how to deal with Eddie’s little temper tantrum.

“I thought this book was supposed to be made of gold?” Steve asked, offering an olive branch.

Eddie sighed, allowing his shoulders to drop from around his ears.

“I don’t think this is that book. The Book of Amun-Ra is rumoured to be made of gold, but I think this is a different one. I think this is the Book of the Dead.”

“You can’t be serious.” Steve looked up at him, almost like he was hoping Eddie was about to reveal he was joking.

“Are you sure you should be playing around with this thing?” Steve’s hand hovered over Eddie’s, almost ready to grab.

Eddie turned his big eyes on Steve, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. “No harm ever came from reading a book, Steve.”

He slowly opened it, the cover thunking heavily down onto the wooden table.

Almost immediately a wind blew through the camp, ruffling the tents, combing through their hair and Steve’s shoulders tensed. 

Looking down over the text spread beneath him, Eddie started to mutter the words to himself, following along with his finger.

“Should you be doing that? What if you’re speaking a curse into existence?”

Eddie ignored him. He needed to keep reading. Felt like he almost had to. There was something enchanting about the text. It felt correct in his mouth and there wasn’t a single moment of hesitation from him as he continued to read, his voice slowly rising from a mutter to a full chested speech.

A hand shot out and slammed the book closed and Eddie blinked back to himself, being met with the wild and frantic eyes of Robin staring down at him, her hand keeping the book firmly closed.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Eddie slowly turned back into his surroundings. The wind had picked up into a healthy gust and the horses and camels around them were antsy, pawing at the ground and tugging against their reins. 

There was a sound being carried to them over the air, an unsettling chittering getting slowly closer and closer.

Over the horizon, a shadow was descending. A large black mass rushing straight for them, slowly coming into sharp relief as a writhing buzzing mass of locusts.

“Mr. Hargrove!” The Egyptologist cried from his tent, as though they would be able to fight the swarm off with their fists. “Mr. Carver, Mr. Benson, Mr. Hagan! Wake up!”

Eddie had only a fleeting moment to wonder just what the fuck they themselves were going to do before he was pulled to his feet, his hand clasped tightly in Steve's, Robin on their heels and the three of them ran as the buzzing around them became almost deafening.

He couldn’t see anything around him, the insects closed in like a black curtain and Eddie was overwhelmed. The only reason he was able to keep upright was Steve’s hand in his, half pulling, half dragging him into the entrance of the tomb the Cowboys had come and gone through. 

They were plunged into darkness, the burning torch that Steve had snatched up from the fire only providing a small amount of light.

There was a fork in the corridor ahead of them and through the thinning-out swarm, Eddie saw the Cowboys break away in one direction while he, Steve and Robin shot down another.

They would have kept running too if Robin hadn’t somehow stopped them both dead with her hands at the back of both of their collars, yanking the two of them into an alcove where the three of them pressed in close.

Eddie was face to face with Steve’s chest hair as his body was blocked in, defended against the swarming hoard that was passing them by.

Robin was by his side, pressed in tight and she blinked her big steely eyes up at Steve, his arms spread out at either side of them, wall to wall.

“We’ve faced worse.” She said to him, stoic and firm, like it was a mantra of theirs she was repeating. 

Steve only nodded in response. 

Eddie looked back and forth between the two of them as much as he was able, squeezed into this small corner as the buzz got quieter and quieter, wondering just what the fuck kind of history Robin and Steve had between them.

Just as things had settled to a dull hum and the three of them slowly crept out of their hiding space, checking the coast was clear, there was an echoing call, distorted and far away.

“My glasses!”

Steve had only taken one step towards the noise when it was interrupted by a terrified scream. 

Eddie’s body froze, still as a statue, something primal inside of him taking the choice away.

Time seemed to stretch on ahead of him, slowed down and sped up at the same time.

It could have only been a second before he was able to move again, almost pushed into motion by the two next to him, running in the direction the scream had come from, trying to find who it was.

They were forced to come to a crashing halt again when a small hill of sand began to rise up in front of them.

Spilling out of the sand underneath were piles upon piles of iridescent black beetles, turning the sandy ground beneath them dark in a second. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Eddie screeched, nearly tripping over his own feet as Steve and Robin shoved him back, so when they turned, he was running at the head of the line, the furthest away from the river of beetles rushing towards them.

The corridor broke out into a stone walkway, dropping out at either side of them to what was sure to be a deadly fall and Eddie tried not to think about it at all as he spotted an alcove, very similar to the one they’d hidden in before and he dove for it, thinking is this really what’s gonna take me out? I’m gonna die from fucking beetles and locusts? Or falling to my death in some spooky ruined mirage city?

He landed in a heap, curling into the bottom of the alcove but thankfully didn’t feel any creepy crawlies scrambling all over him.

He also didn’t feel the two bodies of his companions tumbling down on top of him, which was less relieving.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Eddie turned, peering around the corner to see the still thick swarm of beetles skittering up the walkway, bypassing them completely, like they were being drawn to something. 

Steve and Robin were standing on an outcropping on the opposite side, panting and wide eyed, watching the beetles pass.

Eddie would have been interested to see how it ended. 

He’d have been interested to see the strangely mesmerising shifting sea of insects slowly thin out and then stop. 

He’d have been interested to see if Steve and Robin were just as fascinated and grossed out as he was.

But he didn’t get to see any of that.

Because as he collapsed back into the wall behind him in relief, clutching at his heart, thankful that Steve and Robin were okay, the wall behind him moved.

Like a trapped door had been activated by his weight, Eddie found himself falling, tumbling backwards down a stone chute, swallowed whole into darkness. 

Part 1/ Part 3/ Part 5/ AO3

Happy birthday @hbyrde36

My biggest thanks and much love to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

[sdcrevolver]

I don't think your OC is exactly a villain or antagonist... He's much more of an Anti Hero who gets in people's way and ends up being Ace's romantic interest.

But it could just be an impression... By the way, can you tell us more about his story?

God that’s so funny because friends and I ship him with Ace so much !! Mainly toxic enemies to lovers because these two would only enable the worst parts of eachother lmao

(Long yapping session in the cut because I rarely talk this much without art in between)

If you’re talking about the white cat in the black suit I can tell you more! Honestly I just call him an antagonist because he is not supposed to be viewed as good I suppose? I’ve never really drawn him as he is in the story so I understand if you’re confused on that front! (I also just don’t have much energy to draw him outside of silly doodles with Ace) He is an egomaniac and (in the AU) he does work for the military (that is in the city) as a General so he’s an immediate opposition to the Loonatics who are still vigilante’s and in his eyes, still criminals. In the story he does get powers from the same meteor that gave the Loonatics powers, I wrote off a lot of the antagonists in my AU as getting their abilities from the big rock so this isn’t out of the ordinary (also I thought that it was strange that only the Loonatics got powers from that when that thing crashed in the middle of the city lol ?)

He does have the ability to summon any type of ranged weaponry he wants (mainly guns) but he usually likes using something like pistols. This sounds overpowered but its really not compared to the abilities the Loonatics have haha. He actually really likes fighting the Loonatics, not because he respects them or anything but more so they’ve been one of the only vigilante groups he’s gone up against that can actually keep up with him, especially Ace at least in terms of combat, so he just doesn’t get bored easily with them and sees them as both criminals and a source of entertainment for him. He considers himself to be superior to the Loonatics and vigilantes in general, despite the fact that he can get more destructive and irrational than the Loonatics whenever he tries to capture and arrest them, doesn’t receive any consequences from them comedically enough.

He likes being in charge and to the Loonatics he somewhat represents what they dislike about authority so they dislike him. His inclusion to the story isn’t supposed to be super serious, in the show the military (I guess?) is seen in an episode just once and I was so shocked that they just knew the Loonatics already and trusted them⁉️⁉️ So he also represents that small shift in direction that authority figures will now treat them like criminals in this version, again not super serious until a certain point so he shows up every now and then like everyone else. He’s always so smug ( which is why I like to draw him smiling often ) and while he likes being in charge he also doesn’t take those under him seriously, talking down to them often and disrespecting them.

He doesn’t have a backstory worth noting, he grew up pretty well off he just chose to do this because he likes power, especially power over others. He also doesn’t have a lot of physical strength, he mainly relies on his body’s flexibility and his guns. If one of the Loonatics manages to grab him or catch him off guard in close combat then he’s done for which is really his biggest weakness haha

I minimize his presence in the story because often times he’s actually a lethal level enemy for the Loonatics, The general would often try to kill them if he can’t capture them which would darken the story a lot so he’s doesn’t get TOO much attention but he is there. The military has an active influence in the city and more of an iron grip on the law in this version so it’s mainly how he gets away with so much. Ace and the General do have some sort of romantic tension, mainly because I thought it would be so funny if Ace just got reluctantly attracted to an enemy who’s as unhinged as the general, like how the original Ace had trusted Duece except instead of Deuce it’s this fucking cat 💥 In story though, they have a bit of tension since the general does think Ace would be beneficial to have in the military due to his fighting and leadership skills, Ace in this story doesn’t like the authorities so of course they will forever be at odds. The General often talking down to Ace by trying to imply that vigilantism has probably worsened some aspects of Ace’s life more than it’s helped.

If you have anymore questions you can always ask! I’m not very good at explaining things because my mind races around so if you wanna learn anything specific I’d be happy to answer!

Edit: Actually wait I have drawn him in an antagonistic way kind of! It’s just buried under a lot of posts or I just never posted them but here’s some of it! The last one is a bit old but I still like it, I just wouldn’t portray the general that emotional nowadays tho

[rmorde]

Trigun Manga Reaction

Here we go! Chapter 8 Volume... Huh?

Voulme 2? I thought this is still Volume 1. Am I tripping?

Anyway! Just a moment of appreciation for this parody page of he cover.

This while thing is so "busy" yet it still make sense. There's so many elements layering on top of each other. It should be a confusing mess. However, I can still easily pick out the four components that tells a story.

Component 1: Vash as a happy salary man being served a drink by a geisha (judging from the hairstyle and accessory) with shadowed eyes on the opposite end of the page.

Component 2: BDN at the dead center. The text makes it a bit difficult to confirm if he has a top knot, but he definitely is rocking a traditional Japanese look. He looks menacingly at Vash as he drinks.

Component 3: Meryl and Milly running in a hurry but for two clearly different purposes. Meryl looks like a traditional restaurant staff frantically trying to serve a lot of guests. Meanwhile, Milly doesn't look she's working anywhere near the food service industry with her get up and the tool that she has on hand.

Component 4: The Bad Lads drinking in celebration while an ambulance seems to be sounding its sirens as it parked near them.

Look. I may seem to be too obsessed with this gag page but it's crazy how its a fucking busy mess that still works at telling a cohesive story!

With just this two page drawing, I can infer easily that someone is in danger and may need to be hospitalized - so the ambulance was called and asked to stand by. Milly is probably the heroine about to save the day with the overworked yet eager to help Meryl. The party the Bad Lads are having is a big distraction at a possible murder attempt starring Vash as the victim, the geisha as the accomplice, and BDN as the mastermind.

I'M SORRY BUT HOW THE FUCK?!!!

And don't get me started on the scaling of each figure and the silhouettes. Just... I'll just repeat, Nightow is amazing for how pretty AND technical his drawing is. It's so clean. Wow...

Sorry for getting derailed. So, back to the chapter.

Ok. I lied. Let me just appreciate Winter Mery and Milly here. I love them so much and they so fucking cute here with their dynamic pose... solid silhouette... Clean fucking lines... Sorry... Give me a minute!!!

Sigh~

Interesting. So, '98 rearranged the sequence of events here. This happened a bit later... which I think is better. It adds more impact on Vash's duel against BDN.

These guys are no stormtrooper shooters. They having really good aim!

They didn't hit Vash. Okay. Maybe the tails of his coat now have fresh bullet holes, but aside from that, Vash is fairly intact. The Bad Lads have great accuracy.

This is an intriguing way of drawing a spinning gun. It's simple but effective in visually communicating that that is what BDN is doing. A good choice. Thinking about it... If three twirling guns in a blur of circles were drawn, it would be too distracting and BDN will be overwhelmed in the panel.

Cool foreshortening. Incredible detail on the filigree. And a bonus Goofy Face Vash!

So so fucking glad '98 was faithful to the manga with these scenes. Meryl and Milly were such badasses here.

Huh... Well that's a huge difference. There's not much:

GASP! It'S VaSH tHe STampeDE!

vASh ThE StAMpEdE?!

VASH THE STAMPEDE!!!

It can get a bit much... sometimes in '98. So, this is refreshing.

WHAT...

WHAT THE FLYING FUCK?!!!

So, those lines by Miss Purple Avenger from the filler episode were originally from BRILLIANT DYNAMITES NEON?!

I-

Oooohhh.... Pretty art... Wait no... I can't distracted. I'm mad!

I'M VERY VERY MAD!!!

OML! This is much more intense! IT ADDS SO MUCH WEIGHT TO THE DUEL!

Oh my goodness... This nuance... WHY WAS THIS CHANGED?!

Not to say that Miss Purple Avenger and the episode featuring her was bad. It was actually great! Her version of July was nightmare inducing... and her confrontation with Vash was truly tragic too but.... Uhm...uh... AAHHHH!!!! I CAN'T CHOOSE! THEY'RE BOTH GOOD!

Oh... break my heart into fucking pieces will you huh?!

LOOK AT THESE! Manga Vash getting cheered on by the people! People were supporting him! He is being treated nicely as he deserved.

Even in '98! It was not as overt at this page. However, that scene of the captain from the beginning of this chapter replaced these panels instead and is just as effective. '98 Vash has people believing the good in him.

TRISTAMP VASH WAS ROBBED!!! HE NEVER HAD THESE!!! That poor precious boy! The few precious people who supports him only showed up near the end... and... and...

Now getting even more upset again with the Jeonora Episodes in Tristamp!

It's so not fair!

Oooh. A cinematic page!

HOLY SHIT!!! THESE PAGES ARE AMAZING!

I can't believe this. This fight is better in the manga!

I am not dissing Studio Madhouse for what they've done tho. The '98 Duel was epic too! They did great! But all these crazy angles and perspectives in the manga just elevate the overall awesomeness of the gunfight. It's just more immersive.

Tbf to the '98 anime, this is a nightmare to animate faithfully. With the technology and techniques at the time, this would be so difficult to pull off beautifully - going topsy turvy in one smooth motion for two characters at the same time in a fight scene with a complicated moving background? Yeah... The animation staff would go insane. It's totally understandable that they simplified this duel into extreme close ups and strong facial + gun drawings instead.

I hope Studio Orange re-hashes this fight in some way tho... or does the Episode 1 duel count?

Sigh... With the my discovery that Miss Purple Avenger's lines were actually BDN's, and that the outrage towards Vash for not remembering anything about July belongs to the Bad Lads', these words have become so much more meaningful.

It's also now more effective at convincing me that Brilliant Dynamites Neon have hidden depths.

Oh... Ow... The detailing here is just ow for the hands of an artist. Perhaps I overreacting, but those fine lines in the crooks and crannies make me wince.

Once again tag responses:

@revenantghost

Yeah. The more I see his work, the more I'm awed by his skills. That's a cool detail that his design incorporate realism. I thought the glasses are for the light tho? But maybe it's like those the Olympian gunners wore during the competition?

The dead REALLY haunting the narrative? Looking forward to it!

@takeshidude

Ok. Monthly publication are still grueling but at least its not as nightmarish with weekly mangakas. No wonder the quality is consistent with the art. Nightow was allowed to breathe.

You make a good point. '98 did have a bit of a mystery woven into it. We know Vash the Stampede - we follow his misadventures and people kept saying who he is ad nauseam in every episode. However, we don't really know know him for quite a long time. It's a different, but no less interesting, spin to the story.

Which kinda explains I'm misremembering some scenes and characterizations? The last third of '98 made a long lasting impression that I kinda forgot about Vash's horn dogginess.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

The Sugar in My Coffee - A Humorous (and Fluffy) Cloti and Zerith Fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63758122

Summary: A few weeks after Advent Children, Cloud and Tifa are still somehow be awkward and distant with each other. Aerith and Zack, then, decide to discreetly step in to help them and humor ensues.

The Sugar in My Coffee

Aerith’s PoV

"Zack… why is Cloud suddenly acting so helpless when it comes to Tifa?" asked Aerith, exasperated, as they watched over their friends from the Lifestream.

Normally, she wouldn’t have done this, of course. It was a massive invasion of privacy, so Aerith would usually only ever pay attention to her friends’ lives if she sensed that the planet was once again in danger.

But after Sephiroth had once again been defeated, and weeks later Aerith had sensed so much pain still coming from Cloud and Tifa’s hearts, she hadn’t been unable to resist the urge to take a peek to see what was going on there.

And Zack, it seemed, had been right there with her.

"Well… he was recently dying from Geostigma. Maybe we should cut him some slack,” Zack suggested—squinting his eyes so that he might better peer into the scene that was unfolding before his eyes, Aerith thought. He, after all, wasn’t a Cetra, so it was harder for him to see what was happening back on Gaia, when Aerith opened a path, than it was for the Ancient herself.

And Aerith wanted to agree with Zack here—because the truth was that their friend really had been through far too much—but even she had to draw a line when she learned that he was ignoring Tifa. Again!

Even after his Geostigma had been healed so expertly, if Aerith did say so herself, and Tifa had been cute and forgiving enough to blow him a kiss as soon as he'd been healed—after he'd ignored her the first time—but now this?

"He's breaking Tifa's heart again, Zack, and I won't have it. Nuh-uh."

Zack smiled at Aerith serenely for a beat—maybe thinking she was the greatest thing he'd ever seen, because she was, Aerith knew—before asking, "Okay, then, so what do we do? Pep talks again?"

That was possibly a good plan; and Aerith understood why Zack would suggest it, because not only had it helped Cloud recently, but a certain man named Kadaj that it really seemed that she had become the mother of, Aerith thought as she looked back towards her “son,” ruefully.

"I say we help him figure it out by giving him a nudge that he does need to talk to Tifa now," explained Aerith, thinking wistfully to her dates with Zack and Cloud, where she’d nudged them both in the directions she’d wanted them to go there. "And if that doesn't work, we'll get Denzel and Marlene involved. Who can say no to them?"

Zack looked at Aerith in shock for a moment, no doubt taken aback that she’d bring out the big guns. But then he grinned widely and nodded his head enthusiastically.

Okay, so it was a plan, then!

Time for her to get to work…

…

Cloud’s PoV

"Cloud… what's wrong? Why are we- why are we still having issues?" Tifa asked, turning around to face him as he sat at Seventh Heaven’s kitchen table, going over his deliveries for the next morning. It seemed to Cloud that she'd finally given up on finding busy work to do in the kitchen at the same time he was in here (like writing on the cream of tartar that it wasn't the same as tartar sauce: a mistake he'd learned the hard way when baking with Marlene a few months ago, so he was thankful to her for doing this), and finally decided that they needed to address the matter at hand.

And how Cloud wanted to kick himself for Tifa thinking they needed to address anything at all, because they were fine… should have been fine, anyway. She hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't her fault he still had problems communicating.

"I just… I guess I don't know how you forgave me so easily, Tifa?" Cloud started. And then inwardly cursed himself, not knowing where he was going with this, because hadn't he just been thinking they were fine… should have been fine, but was now contradicting the thought?

But taking a deep breath and deciding to let his heart do the talking, Cloud found himself continuing with, "Sure there instantiating circumstances when I left when I had Geostigma… but I still left you. With so much to take care of when I did. And don't you deserve better than that?"

In realizing what the problem was now, Tifa smirked a little and seemed to choose this moment to act "tough," as she asked Cloud point-blank, "Isn't that my choice?"

And it was. It really was. Tifa was so strong and forthright. And she… She really knew and loved him. It was hard to believe so, but she did. And that- that was why he loved her, too.

"It-it is,” Cloud said--standing now, so that he could begin walking towards Tifa the second the moment allowed. “And don't get me wrong. I don't want to push you away, when someone like you is…"

Oh, God, he was going to mess this up. Looking all around the kitchen for any kind of inspiration to use here, he found himself saying, "the sugar in my coffee…" and while that may have been true—and hey, Tifa's eyes were even the color of coffee—Cloud knew how horrible an analogy it was, and in not trying to ruin things, he was pretty sure he just had.

But Tifa just seemed to blush, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and look around the room herself a little before saying, "U-Umm, thank you, Cloud. I appreciate that. B-but maybe you shouldn't be the one to teach Denzel and Marlene about metaphors, huh?"

Cloud snorted, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting, just as he broke out in gooseflesh. Well, he couldn't argue with that.

"So, then, are we-"

"But if we're going to use such, uhh, awful metaphors, know that you're the sugar in my chamomile," Tifa whispered, her face tomato red now, before she started to step away towards the living room-joint bar.

"Tifa, wait-" Cloud started, using a bit of his SOLDIER speed so he could get to her before she was gone and grab her arm to halt her.

And was it Cloud… or could see the ghostly form of Zack and Aerith again, at the edge of the room. Cloud scrubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things, but nope. His friends were still there.

"Aerith?!" Tifa choked with tears evident in her voice, indicating to Cloud that he wasn’t going crazy and this time she could see the pair, as well.

"We were going to step in to make sure you two were really going to sail this time, but it looks like you’ve got it covered—cheesy lines and all,” Aerith winked at her friend.

And Tifa sobered up then a little, brushed away her tears, and laughed lightly. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

"I think they learned a cheesy line or two from us, dear," Zack reminded his girlfriend. And Aerith giggled at that. And if that wasn't like the feel of her "Healing Rain," Cloud didn't know what was.

"Well, we have to go now. Be good. And take care of Marlene and Denzel!" Aerith urged them, with something there in her voice Cloud couldn’t quite make out.

And holding hands, the couple walked away and disappeared back into the Lifestream—not unlike how they had a few weeks ago.

Tifa watched them in awe, just like Cloud had, before she turned to him with a big grin on her face and fell into his arms. "Our lines were cheesy… but at least we knew that, I guess. Still, I can't help feeling Denzel and Marlene are doomed."

"But at least they'll know they have two parents who love them like no other," Cloud reminded Tifa. 'And we love each other,' he thought, kissing the top of her head.

Sitting down, then, to a warm glass of coffee while the kids continued to play “Monopoly” in Denzel’s room, Cloud reflected that everything truly was alright.

Author's Note: A rewrite of a story I wrote… probably about sixteen-seventeen years ago. o_0 And I partly rewrote it, because I don’t think I’m the best at writing comedy anymore? But I do think the original, at least, was really funny (it had my friend Michael, at least, bursting out in laughter as he read it).

So, I rewrote it to somewhat try and practice comedy in my writing again and recapture that feeling. I don’t know if it’s AS funny as it once was, because tbh: the original was probably a little OOC (as I was very new to writing then), and I very obviously wanted to stay true to the characters here. But I tried.

Hope you all enjoyed:)

And this is dedicated to my old friend, Michael. Michael, we’ve admittedly drifted apart. And I’m not going to message you about this or anything like that (though I do know you’re still a fan of FFVII and you used to read fanfiction, though I don’t know if you do anymore). But if you ever do just happen to find this on your own, know that this is dedicated to you, of course, and I still love you, my friend, and hope that you’re doing well.

Edit: Oh, and the tartar sauce and cream of tartar thing was a reference to some of fanfiction author "Qwi-Xux's" wonderful CloTi work, where in one of her works Cloud DID mix those two things up while baking with Marlene. LOL

[glowinggator]

May I request Wes coming to the realization that he's caught feelings for his coworker/work partner?

A/N: Wow, I am SO sorry that this took so long to post! I'm so in love with what we've seen of Wes, and I was really digging to make sure that I portrayed him as I do in my head. I'd love to write more for him in the future, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy!

Working under Asa Sweet has its benefits. Seemingly endless stores of money, eternal room and board, and most importantly, all the midnight lovers he could ever want. All at the price of a bit of bootlegged liquor, and the occasional firefight. 

This kind of life isn't for everyone, but it's certainly made for Wes. And you're inclined to agree with him. The adrenaline of a job well-done tastes even better than the liquor you're rewarded with at the end of the day -- maybe that's why the two of you get along so well. He can appreciate someone who can actually do their job, and do it well. No offense to Fish, of course, but it's nice to have someone… competent. And nice to look at, to boot. 

What? He's not blind -- He knows a pretty face when he sees one.  

If you weren't tangled in this life like he was, he might have tried to shoot his shot at a quick fling. But alas, working together complicates that And it's not exactly wise to play with someone when they've always got a loaded gun. He's not stupid, either. So, coworkers it is. Friends, if he's drunk enough to say it out loud.

The two of you are a deadly duo in the field. In the car it's all easy banter, a playful back-and-forth of teasing and sarcastic quips… but when you're truly working? Fish says it's scary how easily the two of you operate on the same wavelength, and you can't blame him. As a team you're able to coax deals and information from unsuspecting lips with ease; and on the rare occasion things go wrong… well, there's rarely any time to even worry. You've made it a game to see who can draw their weapon the fastest when shit hits the fan, and you're not very keen on losing.  And boy, does he like a challenge. 

Wes isn't a romantic. He thinks he is -- he thinks he's the suavest cat this side of the Mississippi. But he isn't. In truth, he is painfully inexperienced in the realm of romance, outside of one night stands. So when he's suddenly clenching his jaw whenever you pull that syrupy, borderline seductive voice on clients to get your way, of course he misattributes his feelings to lust. Because what else would it be? 

Except it doesn't get better, and no amount of liquor can soothe the tightness in his throat when he looks at you. 

No amount of bloodshed can quell his rapidly growing thoughts of domesticity. 

And there's not a single force on earth strong enough to pry the softness from his gaze. 

He hates that you're such a weak spot for him. He's always enjoyed being in your company, but now he finds himself hanging onto every word, every syllable, every breath. It's embarrassing.  

It's a bit of an awkward game of hot and cold while he tries to figure out what he wants. The most Wes really knows about romance is what he gleaned from when Fish drug him out to see Romeo and Juliet, and Lord knows how that panned out. You know him well enough to let him sort through… whatever it is he's going through. 

(You do pick up on the fact that there's a bit more intent when he smacks Fish for the "weasel" comments, though. Fish's poorly hidden laughter doesn't escape your ears either.)

But as time goes on, he settles back into his normal routine with you. Maybe his words get a bit more honeyed. Maybe he gets a bit more sarcastic, so he can feel you swat at him. Maybe he starts winning your quick draw games more often, and maybe he's formed a habit of stepping in front of you when things go south. You can't know for sure -- he dodges every attempt at questioning. 

If he shows up at your doorstep someday, with roses from your front yard… just know that he's trying. 

[elfqueen006]

Running Red

A drabble for @themeatpit37's Slasher!Jack AU ft. my OC May-Rose and "Selene," my name for human Moonpie. Basically, it's a chase scene and I hope I captured the maliciousness of the villainous Jack in this.

Wanted to draw something but summer classes and shit cutting in on my fun. Figured I could scribble this up while it was in my head between free time.

Tw: injury, implied/referenced cannibalism and gore, blood and violence, implied death of character offscreen.

---

He fought like an animal. His head dips low and to the right, surveying her from all angles before taking a running start to pounce at her. May barely makes it out the way when she jumps to the side and scrambles back up, ignoring the throbbing in her left arm. It was still scratched up from his "claws" -- some kind of filed metallic material stuck to otherwise friendly, fluffy fur gloves.

Selene was hiding like she told her. Where, she didn't know, but somehow, she felt that was the best case scenario. 'As long as Jack can't find her.' She thought.

Her thoughts were already mixed up out of focusing on survival and worry for her godchild. She didn't know how long this fight would last. She couldn't find a second of opportunity to look inside any of her ex's compartments for a gun. She recalled in college, Ian said something along the lines of hoping he'd never have to own a gun, and she mentally cursed him to his grave. If he owned a damn gun he wouldn't be dead now.

Then again, could a gun work on this... thing? Not even the chair could keep him down. What could a bullet do against supernatural evil?

Jack's big eyes looked back at her from behind his plastic lion mask. She thought they were a bright brown, but everytime his focus was her alone they were a blood red. He didn't have a problem getting on his feet, languidly rising from the floor to stalk towards her again.

"Oh, lioness," Jack purred, "You can't protect your cub forever."

Her voice impulsively lashed out, "What the hell do you want from her?"

He shrugged, "Lion's gotta eat. It's what we do . Especially when the prides getting a li-i-i-tle too big." he hopped forward a few steps in tune with his words. Mays lips rose in a snarl as she backed up. The masked man snickered, and her anger rose over fear at how easily he made their continued survival into a sick little game. Her protectiveness of Selene and hostility towards him didn't add caution but fueled his "lioness" image of her.

Something else then clicked for May -- Jack ...Joseph... whoever he was. Is not a man, nor some freak in a mask, but a caricature of his former self. Someone who's abandoned humanity and empathy for carnal desire. A mascot for terror and evil, one he assumed with glee.

May wasn't sure how she could win against something like this... but she had to try.

She turned and fucking ran. There was no direction she was going with other than away from the predator. The click of nails followed close behind. He was probably running after her on all fours - the freak.

Ian didn't have much in his living area, but whatever May could find, she threw. She threw a small alarm clock and missed. She threw a lamp that he took like a fucking pro. And in her growing frustration she took the wooden stand by the couch and swung it down with surprising force. He cried out as it hit him over his shoulder, making him stumble backward. May didn't wait for him to regain balance.

Reaching over for a glass trinket on Ian's TV shelf, she flung it toward him. It crashed into his chest and she grinned, truly vindicated when he made a pained "Augh! "

As she turned to run, Jack winced, running his hand over his broad chest. Some glass had been lodged in the skin. He clenched his teeth as he pulled it one out with his claws, then two, and three. There were some tinier shards that just couldn't be grasped, making his skin quiver in discomfort. Then his attention was drawn to the familiar and yet jarring red liquid blooming from the cuts on his skin. They came as little droplets before trickling down over the fabric of his shirt.

Experimentally, he swiped a thumb over the blood and tasted it fresh off the fabric... the same. And yet, different. How could he pin that? It was almost the same as touching yourself. You didn't know why it felt different with other people, it just did. And just like an orgasm, you know it's coming, but with others you don't know how. That was part of the fun for him. Finding out different ways to make them bleed. Every wound, every cut, every bruise would open and send him up a fountain of gushing red gold. His reward for playing a different strategy with each kill.

He knew he bled, but it was rare someone showed him how. It was exhilarating.

[violet-fire-cat]

👀

Hehe I'm so glad I got sent a few of these! I'm gonna have fun rambling about aus now! Lots of rambling. I'm not kidding. This one at least is uh- long. Oops.

As I said before, a lot of my AUs are Ethubs focused, but hopefully you guys don't mind that! 😅

Soooo, let's see, which one should I start with, hmmmmmm. Let's go with one I was talking about with a friend a lot a few weeks ago!

And that would be -

Assassin Creed AU 🗡️ Well- it's inspired by Assassin's Creed anyway. I am not well versed enough on the series lore to do anything that sticks to it too closely. I wanted to play around with ideas a bit anyway. But I started playing one of the games again a while ago and that's where the ideas came from.

Assassin AUs have been done before, yes. But this one is mine!

Etho is an assassin, somewhere in the 18th/19th century, and has been with the Assassin's Brotherhood for most of his life. He's very good at what he does. He's smart, quick, and stealthy. Like a ghost with a knife. You won't know he's there until his blade has found it's way into your throat.

The Brotherhood consists of various other Hermits, including; Doc - retired assassin now serving as the groups main medic Tango - his targets often go out with a bang. or with fire. Grian - death from above Cleo - master of poisons and deadly concoctions Impulse - weaponsmith, where you go for a new knife or gun Zedaph - creator of gadgets and nifty tools and Mumbo - the spymaster. Kinda. Not really. Far too squeamish for assassin work. So he handles information gathering, sorting out jobs and targets, etc

They work together to take out criminals and other bad people who are causing issues in the area. As well as probably aiming to solve some sort of ancient mystery like in the games. (Though I haven't figured that part out yet.)

The story is mostly focused on Etho, a lot of what I have is about his and Bdubs' relationship too, but there's other stuff as well. Rambling continues under the cut ~

Etho doesn't interact with civillians much. But then he meets Bdubs. Bdubs is not affiliated with the Brotherhood. He's a craftsman. He works with wood, leather, and sometimes metal, making tools and clothes mostly, but weaopns too, and selling them in his little shop. Etho goes there on a whim looking for quick repairs or a replacement.

Bdubs is a pretty ordinary guy just going about his life. He has no idea what's in store for him when he meets Etho that day.

Etho is- odd. Tall and mysterious, and dressed in strange clothes. Bdubs doesn't know what to make of him. But treats him like any other customer. He does what's asked of him, Etho pays well. And he finds himself with a regular visitor.

Etho isn't entirely sure why he keeps going back there. He knows other people with the same skillset that he could go to instead. But there's something about Bdubs... There's something drawing Etho to him in a way he's never really experienced before.

Gradually, they become friends. And with time, that friendship progresses. Etho slowly falls in love with Bdubs, and realises that he's so screwed. He's never been in love before. And these- these- emotions. Are not easy to deal with! He doesn't know how to handle Bdubs being so gentle with him, so kind and smiling so sweetly.

And. Yeah. Things develop. A very touch starved Etho craves the gentleness and kindness that Bdubs gives him so easily. Etho has friends, sure, but this is different. Someone detatched from the violence of his work. Someone willing to care for him and love him despite all that he is. It's like nothing he's ever experienced before.

Bdubs never expected to get tangled up with someone like Etho. Danger surrounds him. Etho could leave one day and just. Never come back. But behind all that. Behind the layers of Trained Killer. There's a sweet, slightly shy guy that Bdubs can't help but love.

It's not all plain sailing though. No no. There's drama and chaos too of course. The nature of Etho's work kind of requires it. One time Etho returns to base badly hurt, and in a state of 'I thought I was going to die and all I wanted was to see you again,' he's asking Doc, who's looking after him, for Bdubs. Another time, Bdubs gets captured by the bad guys and Etho and the other assassin's have to rescue him. There's heartbreak as events leave Etho thinking that Bdubs doesn't want to see him anymore. And the difficulty of tracking down an assassin who doesn't want to be found. Etho becomes over protective at times, which Bdubs isn't fond of. But panic ensues when that protectiveness leads to Etho hurting Bdubs accidentally. Bdubs doesn't know what to think of seeing Etho kill someone. Knowing it happens is one thing, actually seeing it happen is another.

There's ups and downs, and I want there to be some overarching mission that Etho and the rest of the Assassin's are working towards. But I don't know what that is yet. I need to brainstorm and play the games more I think.

However, meanwhile, in the present day. Another young man, funnily enough also known as 'Etho', has somehow gotten himself roped into an investigation being done on his ansestor. A- distant cousin. Or something. He thinks. But the guy was an assassin. Which is cool. Fancy technology he'd never heard of allows him to relive the 'genetic memories' of the assassin. See what he experienced and learn about his life. About the things he did, the people he knew, and the events he was a part of. Hoping it'll help them find answers to something that's going on now.

This Etho, nerdy computer science graduate Etho, is very confused but overall rather fascinated by it all. Though he realises quickly there's a lot more at stake here than facts and figures about centuries old history. He learns a lot about his assassin ancestor and the life he lived. Maybe... Maybe too much. He's not sure that he wanted to know about the more- private parts of the guys life. It's interesting that the man the assassin was in love with looked a lot like one of the technicians working on this investigation, though. It's probably just a coincidence. The odds of it being anything else are far, far too small. But he is rather handsome, so surely you can't blame Etho for having a bit of a crush on him...

And- I am going to stop there or I could ramble all night dfghj. I love this AU a lot, if you couldn't tell. I'm probably forgetting things, but this is already more than enough to get an idea of how things go! There's assassins! And drama! And romance! And it's so much fun!

Thank you Anon for giving me an excuse to ramble endlessly about my AU! If you want to ask more about this au though then please do! Aaand maybe I'll draw something for it at some point too, I've been wanting to for a while hehe!