#reading some old web weaves on here. god. the horrors

[muirneach]

being a leafs fan is of course nothing but pain but if you love a tragic hero narrative boy do i have a team for you

[haneybun123]

Dreamcatcher as mafia members

masterlist

A/N- it was so hard to think of them as straight up criminals so this one is a lot different from the others lmao.

JiU - the leader

- she may not look like it on the surface but JiU has a terrifying alter ego- a bordering on sociopath business women who listens to no one. she had been immersed in crime, horror, and the deep web for years, dreaming of making her own empire like the ones she’d see online, becoming the gang leaders she had read so much about. SuA, her close deep web friend, had exactly the same plan. thus, Dreamcatcher was born.

- they were a purely internet based operation at first, operating as middle men for drug operations- mainly poisons and drugs that induce hallucinations and drowsiness (get it)- until they garnered enough business to make it themselves. then, weapons became involved, and with Siyeon came information. their power slowly grew until they decided they had enough influence for a real world presence, garnering the interest of many Korean based users and making them quick millionaires.

- JiU is a genius businesswomen in that sense, knowing what to say when and when’s best to snap. she runs her business with a prowess and air that is uncommon amongst most violent, paranoid leaders seen in Korea. that’s what makes her so popular amongst small groups, weaving a string of alliances across Seoul. she acts unbothered and polite.. until she cannot.

she made eye contact with SuA next to her, ‘this man will not stop talking’ she couldn’t help but think, despite what it had taken to get him here. he was an influential leader in the drug trading community but it seems the constant back stabbing had gotten to him. he had not stopped speaking about terms of their alliance and left no space for their own. SuA nodded- it was time to be impolite. “listen to me. please, for the love of God, stop fucking talking about yourself. we have priorities too and if it takes cutting your tongue out of your mouth for you to think about that? well, I know my way around a knife.” he cowered down into his seat, finally realising why her group had grown so fast.

SuA  - the dealer

- SuA is charismatic, strong, and trustworthy. that’s why she was trusted as not only JiUs’ second in command but the person in charge of making deals. JiU and SuA were close, having known each other forever and nursing this idea for years, so they have incredible synergy when it comes to running Dreamcatcher and making deals. 

- she’s infamous for being ruthless, charming, and sly across the community, even having caught the attention of people like EXO once or twice for outwitting Chanyeol. she always gets what she wants, or at least close enough that she’s only pouting a little bit at the end of it all. she may be tiny and a little insane but she’s a genius and got her role for a reason.

- despite how it may seem- what, being guarded by Dami and Gahyeon almost 24/7 - she’s strong and flexible as fuck and could totally flip someone if they piss her off too much. she gives Gahyeon and Dami The Look which translates to “I know this is stupid but I’m gonna take this man on even if he’s 3 times my height and weight and WIN” and they let her. then she wins.

by now, people aren’t taken back by SuAs height, figure, or gender. after she’s taken on some of the biggest names and biggest people in the industry, these criminals know far better than to judge her on her appearance. she’s far more than that. now, she’s walking away with another one of the most impactful deals made in the Korean narcotics industry under her belt, and her previous rival bleeding under her feet. “I’m glad we could come to a conclusion benefiting us both, Bobby. I hope you know now not to push the women of this industry around. we owe you nothing- especially not a trip into out pants. that’s not what a deal is.”

Siyeon - the hacker

- Siyeon is an old friend of JiU and SuAs, someone they made acquaintance with during their dark web days. she had been hired to take down one of their rivals biggest deals, moving the person over to them instead. it had gone so perfectly they made a continuous business arrangement. she always delivers and always with a good bit of sass and attitude added in to make the results that little bit sweeter.

- their arrangement continued until they became a physical group when Siyeon became their official informant, when they developed a simple system that worked every time. any rival that was getting out of pocket would get incriminating documents stolen off of their computer and held against them as blackmail, forcing them to bend to their will. it always works, and SuA always gasps like it’s the first time.

- she refused to work for anyone else on her own terms. she loved JiU and SuA far too much to be put in a situation where she might have to betray them, so she packed her shit and moved in. she now semi manages security along with Dami, as well, to make sure they have impenetrable security on all fronts. she’s surprisingly caring for a deep web hacker, that’s for sure.

the call tone echoed through her headset as she waited. on the other end of the line was the head of their rival Xanax ring, and the key to Siyeons next big payout. he answered after two rings, immediately beginning to demand what to do to get them back. Siyeon quickly began recording, switching her voice changer on, and spoke, “you are not here to make demands. you are here to pay up. admit to me this is true, agree to the deal my boss gave you, and you can have your documents back.” playing right into her hands, he admits it and agrees to the deal. with video evidence of her papers and another deal for SuA she was sure to get her pay check.

Handong - the mercenary

- Han Dong had been working as an assassin to hire on the deep web for a while before she was found by JiU and SuA. they needed to take someone out for trying to expose their secrets and Handong had quite the resume of experience in that field. they hired her, she did her job, got paid, but stayed in contact because of how well she found herself getting on with JiU. they were equally cold, equally as goal-orientated, and equally as fascinated with violence.

- soon, she found herself doing odd jobs for Dreamcatcher whenever asked, not asking for as much money since it was “for an old friend”. when asked to just stay with Dreamcatcher she agreed with false hesitation and now finds herself working with Dami and Gahyeon regularly. she’s more than capable of working alone, she just likes them... not that she’d ever admit it. being a for - hire on the deep web can be lonely, let the tsundere live.

- she still works freelance occasionally and the concept of living in a city terrifies her, so she sticks to whatever hidden place in the countryside she lives in over moving in with Dreamcatcher. she may not even live in the countryside for all they know (SuA likes to say she made it up so she can show up late with an excuse). no matter how long they work together it seems that they’ll never know Handongs true identity.

“how dare you. you come here, we accept you into our area, and you threaten one of my members?” her glare is ice cold, piercing through the women laying below her feet as she cowers. her gun, abandoned in fear and regret, is kicked across the ground. Handong stands above her, a glistening blade pointed right to her chest. she is unwavering. the women begins begging, pleading as Handong starts to push the knife through her skin. “don’t beg for your life like I’ll listen.” 

Yoohyeon - the manager

- Dreamcatcher don’t make the majority of their money from the deals they do, or the information they sell, it’s from their anything-goes clubs they run. sex workers in BDSM get ups, members of all sorts of criminal operations allowed to live in harmony, drug and weapon deals right on the main floor, Utopia (get it)has it all. these are ran by Yoohyeon. her business sense, her self control that most of the members don’t have, her ability to handle any situation; all of it made her the perfect candidate for it.

- JiU found her when she was helping to run a strip club in downtown Seoul beating the absolute shit of a man groping one of the sex workers. from that alone she knew she was the perfect women to manage her idea. she needed that fearlessness for it to work. they had garnered a lot of trust being one of few somewhat peaceful mafias and she wasn’t about to risk this by placing her business in the hands of the unreliable.

- she rarely leaves her clubs, often so wrapped up in making sure the club is neutral ground, the paperwork of letting Utopia slip under the legal rug, and cleaning up blood that it’s difficult to. more often than not she falls asleep at her desk. but, when she does leave, it’s to JiU and SuA who fuss over how tired and pale she looks as she’s bombarded with questions about her health.

“Yoohyeon, he’s back.” her long time bartender leant into her office, the exasperated tone saved for that patron seeped into her tone. he comes back once a month, hoping Yoohyeon had forgotten his face, so he can try it on again with their dancer Star. she, however, is a lesbian. he, somehow still, remains convinced he can “change her”. so, she grabs her baseball bat and walks outside. “Tyler, I’m giving you 10 seconds to leave,” she nearly screams as she pushes him into the wall, shaking his signature perverted smile from his lips with practiced ease, “or I knock some sense into your useless skull.”

Dami - the assassin 

- JiU and SuA met Dami late into their deep web career when they started getting death threats from their competition. they asked her to guard their house for a week as the death threats started to increase in danger and promise. throughout the week, they would invite Dami in for ramen and drinks, like having a literal assassin walking around their house was normal, until they became good friends.

- once Dreamcatcher became too big to not have some sort of protection, Dami was asked to work full time for them as protection for deals and missions. she often spends most nights guarding the house, or the warehouses if things have gotten tense again. she likes how peaceful it is and how much less blood there is (less laundry).

- she spent the majority of her nights, initially, sleeping on the roof. she’d wake up with a blanket over her shoulders and a warm cup of tea next to her sniper. not long after, they cleared out the attic for her and now she basically lives next to the attic window. will absolutely never admit how much that meant to her.

Dami had been minding her own business, quietly reading a book on her window ledge when she heard the faintest loading of a gun. immediately she ducked, texting JiU to alert the others, and aimed her sniper through the window. sweat gently traveled down the sides of Damis face as she embraced the silent standoff- both knowing the other exist, both unsure of what to do- she was a hunter in the grass, any slight movement could give them away... and he cracked first. the shot was taken on instinct, lunging like it meant survival, the shadowy figure falling to the ground without a thud.

Gahyeon - the bodyguard

- though Dreamcatcher tend to keep themselves in good graces with the other gangs of Seoul, things can go wrong. there have been meetings where people have pulled out weapons to try and take out one of the girls, or stalked their cars thinking they’re clever. that’s where Gahyeon comes in. she’s unassuming, small, taking notes like she’s an assistant, and that’s where she always gets you.

- see, Gahyeon is much stronger than you’d presume she is. she’s a loose cannon- before you can even blink you’re forehead is bleeding and you’re writhing on the floor in pain. she isn’t there to take notes (though she does it anyway for something to do), she’s there to beat your ass if you step out of line. having trained in boxing and MMA her whole life, she can handle herself easily against any tough guy caricature the crime world throws her way.

- she’s so good at her job (and such a good friend) that JiU and SuA suggested she quit her day job and move in. now, her mission is to protect them 24/7. they’re paranoid about someone killing them in their sleep, sneaking in while they sleep to steal their belongings, or following them home after a late night mission, so Gahyeon has a room on the bottom floor connected to microphones placed throughout the house to listen to everything going on.

“SuA, I think this deal has reached an... impasse.” the poison dripped off of his words, falling onto Gahyeon and making her burn with anger. the audacity of this person to come in here, bargain for an hour, burn through 3 pages of her notebook, and claim an impasse! SuA grabbed her hand before she had a chance to stand as she tried her best to reason with the man. there was a tone of desperation in her voice when she asked him to reconsider; knowing what a mess Gahyeon made, she doesn’t blame her. but then she let go and she stood without hesitation- “oh, dear.. looks like it’s my turn.”

[witcherslittledove]

Home is Where the Heart Is

A Joey/Henry lockdown fic - AO3

Rated: T

Words: 7k ish

CW: RPF, covid, far too much pining?

_______

“I’m sorry, Joey,” Madeleine sighed again, pressing her head into the crook of Joey’s neck, her hair tickling his cheek.

It was pulled back into a messy bun, flyaway strands surrounding her face in a halo, and as the sun shone from behind her, she looked like some kind of angel. Joey wondered, not for the first time, how he’d even been so lucky to have Madeleine as a friend. She truly was a wonder, his favourite person and light of his life. Everyone should have a friend like Madeleine Hyland.

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple as he pulled back from her embrace. “Nah, it’s alright, Madeleine. Your parents need you, much more important than little old me.”

“Oh fuck that, you bastard, stop fishing for compliments,” she laughed, swatting him on the arm.

“Aww,” he pouted, “Oi!”

She’d hit his arm again, barely a tap but he pretended it hurt, rubbing his arm and pouting even harder at his friend.

“Come off it, Joey. You’re staying with Henry for the rest of lockdown, that’s hardly a trial,” she teased, poking him in the chest.

Ah yes.

Henry.

The bane of Joey’s existence, mostly because of the fucking ginormous crush he had on his co-star. He hadn’t known Henry had been signed on for Geralt until his audition, really he hadn’t known much at all, just that he’d be auditioning for a bard and that he should probably take his lute to the audition. A spur of the moment decision that had turned his life upside down. He’d gone from a nobody to... well, not exactly famous but people had started to recognise him, much to his despair.

And then there was Henry.

He’d been admiring Henry from a distance for a few years now, watching him in the Tudors had sort of been Joey’s bisexual awakening, and then he’d suddenly been thrust into the most bizarre experience of having to work fairly closely with the man.

Joey would never forget the feeling of Henry throwing him over his shoulder as if he wasn’t almost the same size as Henry.

Fuck, that had been hot.

And now, Joey had to cohabit with said crush for an indeterminate amount of time, preferably without making a fool of himself.

He was doomed.

Of course, he could have said no when Henry had offered his place when Joey was grumbling about being alone during lockdown after Madeleine's parents got sick, but no… Henry had stared at him with such shining hope in his eyes that Joey never stood a chance.

Joey just needed to keep reminding himself that Henry was straight. He was practically the poster boy for heteronormative; classically gorgeous, action star, gymrat, lover of sports and building fucking computers.

Okay, maybe Joey was generalising a tad, but it was a form of self-defence.

Christ, the mere thought that Henry could be interested in men… interested in him.

It was too much.

So here he was, saying goodbye to his best friend whilst waiting for his biggest crush to pick him up. Madeleine bundled into her car with the last of her bags, and Joey was left waiting on the pavement. In all honesty, he would have preferred to drive to Henry’s place himself or at least get the tube, something where he felt like he was actively doing something. The waiting was killing him, making his thoughts run out of control. Maybe he shouldn’t have packed his guitar. He could have at least been tuning it, or plucking out some meaningless melody, anything to keep his hands busy and his mind distracted.

When the black car pulled up, Joey let out a sigh of relief before realising that it was very much frying pan, fire. Luckily, before he could really start to panic, the back door opened and Joey was almost bowled off his feet by a large bundle of fur that Henry claimed was a dog and not, in fact, a bear.

“Kal!” Joey greeted warmly, burying his fingers into Kal’s neverending fur, and letting the dog lick all over his face.

“He’s missed you,” Henry called in lieu of a greeting.

He was wearing a grey henley that looked like it was two sizes too small and his dark blue jeans seemed to strain against his quads. Henry’s arms were crossed in front of his chest and he looked down at Joey with a blinding Hollywood smile that made Joey’s heart flutter. Dark curls seemed to have finally recovered from the weeks stuck under Geralt’s wig and they fell in front of his so very blue eyes.

He was bloody gorgeous, and it wasn’t fucking fair.

So Joey did the only logical thing, and started to coo at Kal instead. “I’ve missed him too,” he trilled happily into the dog’s fur, scratching Kal behind his ears. “Such a good boy! The bestest, cutest doggo.”

“He’s not the only one who’s missed you, you know,” Henry groused, although when Joey looked up, he was still smiling so Joey didn’t feel too bad for paying far more attention to Kal than the gorgeous specimen of a man that is Henry Cavill.

“Aww, you sap,” he chuckled. “Well, I still haven’t forgiven you for those cruel and terrible words you cursed me with the last time we met.”

It wasn’t the last time they’d met. They’d had a few scenes after the argument in episode six. Scheduling had meant that it wasn’t filmed entirely in order, and then there had been reshoots and post-production parties, premieres and the table reads for season two, but it was a sort of in-joke. Joey liked to tease Henry about the argument, they’d both lurked enough online to know that ‘the mountain’ was a big fucking deal to the fans of their characters.

Henry rolled his eyes and opened his arms out for a hug which Joey eagerly returned, inhaling the soft musky cologne that Henry wore and enjoying the strongs arms that wrapped around him. He loved hugs, but most of Joey’s male friends would do that god awful hug and pat thing, then pull away too soon. Henry had never been like that and it was delightful, even if it really didn’t help the not so little crush that Joey had on the man.

It was cliche but it really did feel like coming home.

Fuck.

He was utterly screwed… and not even in the fun way.

The drive to Henry’s place was quiet, Joey spent most of the time watching the streets of London roll past as they weaved through bendy roads that webbed across the city. The traffic was weirdly non-existent, a side effect of a global pandemic, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the ghost towns from films and books.

It was truly haunting, spooky in just the right way. Horror and the Wild had very much had woodland magic vibes, but driving through the dead streets of London, Joey wondered what happened to the fae when a city sprung up near their home. Did they adapt like the wildlife did? Urban spirits that lurked in the shadows, in the alleys, behind the bins and cobbled streets at the back of theatres.

Most theatres were supposed to be haunted, Joey had always wondered just who the spirits were that glided through the aisles when the shows went dark.

Henry didn’t feel the need to fill the silence which Joey was grateful for. On set, with Jaskier on his fingertips, Joey was happy to joke about and laugh and banter, but he was nervous about the move to Henry’s and the silence gave him time to get lost in his own imagination, a reality that wasn’t quite the one they knew.

He was almost disappointed when the car pulled to a stop in front of a rather grand house. It was part of a terrace but that was unsurprising, most places in London were, but it was much nicer than the shitty little flat that Joey shared with Madeleine.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

They were poles apart. Even being friends was unrealistic. How the hell was Joey supposed to even pretend they were in the same league? It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Joey just had to be a perfect house guest, no clumsy mistakes, no setting fire to any ovens, and no slipping in the shower and messing up his ankle.

He’d just have to spend all his time with Kal lest Henry find out just how much of a walking disaster he could be.

Henry had only offered because he was a caregiver, selfless and kind in everything he did. He would have done the same to anyone else if they’d mentioned spending lockdown alone. Joey was just the lucky one.

Or unlucky.

He hadn’t quite decided yet.

Yes, he would just have to spend his days with Kal and his guitar, stay out of Henry’s way and then everything would be fine.

Right?

___

Joey’s plan went according to plan for almost an entire week. He mostly kept to his room and occasionally the living room. Henry wanted to show Joey some films he liked and it would have been rude to say no, so Joey curled up with Kal on the floor to keep some space between them. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to snuggle up against Henry’s chest the same way he did with Madeleine, only it wouldn’t be the same because Madeleine was his best friend and Henry was… well… Henry.

It was such a mess.

And he was probably being an arse.

They’d gotten along so well on set in between takes, but now, without Jaskier there as a crutch, Joey’s anxiety was getting the better of him, and all because of a stupid crush. This would all be a lot easier if Joey were straight; no awkward crushes, no pining for a man he couldn’t have, no… whatever this was?

He could flirt and tease and banter just like he would with any of his friends because it was harmless.

If only.

No.

He had to do better. The reason Henry had invited him to stay was so neither of them would be alone, and despite all his cuddles with Kal, Joey was really starting to feel touch starved. He’d never gone so long without human touch.

The problem was that Henry was just so fucking sweet. He was so bloody understanding that it made Joey just yearn even harder. There was never any pressure to hang out, just gentle suggestions, and the most amazing home-cooked meals that Henry said could be heated up another time if Joey wasn’t hungry. The wine Henry picked out to go with the meal was heavenly, and fuck, the man could cook.

He felt like he was being seduced; wooed with the most gorgeous culinary delights that were truly to die for.

What was a poor bisexual to do?

So every evening Joey would sit across from Henry at the table, trying to joke and laugh just as they had before, but even to his own ears it felt flat. Madeleine’s voice in his head reminded him that that was probably his anxiety speaking but, of course, he ignored it. They ate their food and then Joey would either retreat to his room with his beloved guitar or Henry would suggest a film.

Until Henry decided enough was enough.

Joey was lured from his room with the sweet delicious smell of pizza, and when he came down the stairs he found Henry already on the couch, two boxes of pizza and a couple of beers already opened and ready to go.

There was no sitting on the floor, not with pizza and a Kal. Joey wouldn’t get to taste the greasy wonders of his takeaway if he sat on the floor, and the pizza box was already being guarded by Henry on the couch.

He had to break his rule.

Fuck.

“Kitchen table not good enough?” he teased with a quirk of his lips.

Henry scoffed. “Who eats pizza at the table?”

It was a fair point and sighed, resigning himself to an evening pressed up against his friend when his cuddle instincts got too much. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing, maybe it would help get him out of his head and into the moment… maybe he should just let Jaskier out of the box and pretend that all was fine?

No.

He could do this. Just… be himself?

“Before I open this box, there is one very important question I have to ask,” he said far too seriously, barely able to hide a smile as he scooped the pizza box into his lap and sat down next to Henry, keeping a safe distance between them.

“There’s no pineapple.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” Joey laughed and opened the box. It was a standard pepperoni pizza, not his go to, but it was a safe option and one that was always yummy regardless of the restaurant. “Garlic dip?” he asked with a cock of his head.

“Damn, I hoped you wouldn’t like it,” Henry grumbled and pulled a small green topped tub from inside his own box.

“You!” Joey said in mock outrage, “keeping the beloved dip from me. It’s like the mountain all over again.”

“It’s not like the mountain,” Henry grumbled. “I didn’t make the script, you can’t keep blaming me for that.”

Joey’s heart sank as he wondered if he’d taken the joke too far, but when he met Henry’s gaze he saw the man was smiling despite his grousing. “I can,” he insisted.

“Hmm,” Henry replied in his most Geralt-y voice.

And with an internal sigh of relief, everything seemed to be okay. Yes, Joey was pulling some of his energy from his beloved character, but so was Henry, and it seemed to smooth out the edges of his anxiety. The beer helped and everything seemed a lot more relaxed with the takeaway pizza and the film already starting to play on the TV.

“I’m sorry,” Henry whispered after the pizza was finished and the credits had started to roll.

Joey’s head was resting on his friend’s shoulder but he’d managed to keep himself from koala hugging… so far. The vulnerability caught his attention though, and he sat up wearily to peer at Henry.

“For what?”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by inviting you here.”

Joey wanted to swear, to stomp around the room and tear the place upside down. He’d fucked up. He knew he’d fucked up, his damn anxiety keeping him from being the person he wanted to be, the person he knew he could be if his head just shut up! He didn’t do any of that though. Instead, he slumped back down to lean against Henry and took a deep breath.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. I’m just- it’s hard for me, being somewhere new,” not a lie, not entirely the truth, “and I didn’t want to encroach on your space. This is your home, and I- umm- I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Henry laughed, running a hand through his hair, pushing the curls back off his face, and Joey was entranced for a moment, wanting to reach out and feel the soft hair between his fingers for himself. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his hands in his own lap.

“Joey, this is our home, for now at least,” Henry said with such conviction and warmth that Joey made a sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“Our home?”

“We have no idea how long this nightmare is going to last. It could be months, Joey. I want you to feel like you can relax here,” Henry insisted, wrapping his arm around Joey’s shoulder and pulling him into a sideways hug.

“Right- yeah, no, I know,” Joey mumbled, trying and failing not to blush.

Now that Henry wasn’t really having to watch what he ate and stay dehydrated for dear old Geralt, he was big.

And Joey was weak.

It was like all his wet dreams were becoming a reality, one by one.

He was just monkey-braining over the fact that Henry was one big, large, strong man that wanted to take care of him. It was pathetic. Joey wasn’t exactly small himself, and he could, should the role require it, hold up pretty well in a sword fight with Henry and not look entirely ridiculous.

“And I know Kal is very cute,” Henry teased, nodding to the dog who was sprawled on the carpet in front of them, “but if you ever need a hug, he’s not your only option.”

Joey definitely didn’t squeak this time. Instead, he finally let himself snuggle up to Henry the way he’d been wanting to all evening, every evening since he’d arrived. “Like this?” he teased.

Henry chuckled, and just squeezed his arms tighter around Joey, “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry,” Joey mumbled. “I was being an arse.”

“No, it’s not your fault.”

Joey scoffed.

“I should have been clearer on day one,” Henry sighed, “although seeing as you live here now, maybe you should cook?”

Joey laughed nervously, burying his face into Henry’s jumper. “Neither of us want that,” he muttered. “Trust me.”

“I’ll help?” Henry suggested, which of course brought forth a dozen images of cooking together, dancing in the kitchen to whatever songs fell past Joey’s lips, lazy early morning kisses as they waited for the coffee.

He swallowed, blinking away the fantasies. “How about you cook, and I’ll help?”

“Lazy,” Henry said with a chuckle but just pulled Joey closer.

“Only trying to keep you safe, darling.”

Darling.

Fuck.

“I mean, Henry, sorry, slip of the tongue. I mean- fuck. I call Madeleine darling all the time?”

“Joey, it's okay,” Henry reassured him.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

With a sigh, Joey untangled himself from Henry’s arms and gathered up the pizza boxes and empty beer cans. Booping Kal on the nose as he went past, he busied himself with clearing up. It wasn’t much and didn’t take long, so sooner than he would have liked he poked his head back around the door.

Henry was sitting on the floor, rough-housing Kal, chuckling as the dog kept licking at his face. The sight made Joey smile softly, and he almost didn’t want to leave, but he was getting tired and he really didn’t want to slip up again. He couldn’t blame every mistake on Madeleine. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

“I’m going to bed,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his hair. “See you tomorrow, Henry.”

_______

After that, things started to get easier. Joey would flop down onto the sofa next to Henry in the evenings regardless of what they were doing. Sometimes he’d lie with his head in Henry’s lap whilst they both read a book, other times he’d pluck at his guitar and laugh over stupid limericks that he could make up about his co-star. True to his word, Henry made Joey start helping with mealtimes, although he soon regretted that decision but refused to back down. The food still tasted good but the presentation was lacking. They spent an afternoon trying to bake bread together… Joey’s did not turn out so well and Henry’s attempt was thankfully less than perfect but still edible. The little flaws made Joey feel a little less inferior, and made Henry seem all the more human.

Kal still got a lot of Joey’s attention. How could he not? He was just so fluffy and adorable, plus Joey loved the little pout that Henry did whenever Kal got more hugs than he did. Joey could pretend that his friend was jealous, and that just helped him sleep a little easier at night.

Cuddling on the couch had become their usual routine, and it settled something deep inside of Joey that had been becoming restless. Mornings were spent watching Henry workout. Joey joined in occasionally but usually he would just cheer Henry on from the sidelines sipping his cup of tea. It was a sight to behold, and Joey thanked the lord that the gyms were currently closed otherwise he would never have been allowed to enjoy the view.

Henry’s arse was truly spectacular.

Despite his morning workouts, Henry had definitely gained a rather lovely layer of fat over his previously tightly toned muscles. He looked stronger. He looked cuddlier. Joey’s crush was only getting worse by the day, wanting to run his hands over the broad muscles of Henry’s back, thighs, arms… wherever he was allowed, but he just settled for the cuddling each day.

Joey tried not to think about the fat building over his own stomach and filling out his cheeks, barely noticeable unless you’d had a lifetime of his mother breathing down his neck about his weight. He was cuddlier too, that’s what he told himself whenever the familiar buzz of anxiety started to build up.

And anyway, Henry didn’t seem to mind.

Kal certainly didn’t. The beast of a dog had started to share the sofa with them in the evenings, squishing between them for maximum cuddle potential until eventually he got bored and retreated back to the floor.

It was really starting to feel like home. There were signs of Joey around the house, sheet music left on the TV cabinet, a set of spare lute strings in the kitchen, the bastard instrument tucked away in the corner of the living room until Joey could bring himself to pick it up. Two sets of keys now hung up by the front door so they could both take turns walking Kal without having to worry about getting locked out if the other was busy. A fluffy worn blanket was now strewn over the big armchair where Joey liked to sit during the day. Even the fridge now stocked Joey’s favourite rosé wine.

All in all, Joey wasn’t hating lockdown. It was frustrating but he enjoyed being inside anyway, and well, the company was pretty great.

The two of them were curled up on the sofa watching the Great British Bake Off on netflix, gin and tonics flowing a little too freely, and Joey felt like he was on top of the world. He had the best cuddler in all of England, nay, the world, a big fluffy puppy to boot and some bloody brilliant booze in hand.

The best thing was that Henry’s hoody had shifted up at some point during the evening, and Joey couldn’t take his eyes off the soft but defined muscles that were often hidden under Henry’s clothes. The dark hair that dipped beneath the exposed band of Henry’s boxers was tantalizing, and Joey longed to reach out and touch…

Only he was drunk enough that his inside thoughts had his hand moving before he could realise, landing on Henry’s stomach.

He froze and stared up at his friend with wide eyes.

“Oops,” he slurred.

“That’s my stomach,” Henry pointed out.

And still Joey didn’t remove his hand, relishing the bare skin beneath his fingertips, but he knew he needed an excuse, so he did the only logical thing and launched his attack. Henry was stronger than him, but Joey had the element of surprise as he tickled his friend, fingers dancing across the exposed skin as Henry desperately tried to shove Joey away. They were both laughing, too busy pushing and pulling at each other, that neither of them quite registered that at some point in the tussle, Joey had straddled Henry’s waist in an attempt to keep him pinned down.

Until suddenly their lips were barely a breath apart.

Oh.

“Hi,” Joey mumbled, smiling coyly down at Henry, the longer strands of his fringe falling into his eyes.

“Hi.”

It wouldn’t take much to lean down and kiss him, maybe Henry would even reach up first. There was no denying the sudden pull between them, and god, Joey wanted it. He’d wanted it for so long now.

So close.

The warmth of Henry’s breath brushing against his lips.

Eyes closed.

Hearts racing.

A soft whisper of a moan.

And then a bark rang out in the room, startling Joey and shattering the moment. He cursed as he fell to the floor, the world spinning from the gin and giddy burst of adrenaline. Kal jumped up into Henry’s lap, barking and whining excitedly at his owner, checking that he was okay following Joey’s tyrannical tickle attack.

Joey felt like an ice bucket had been dumped over his head, feeling far too sober, far too fast.

He’d almost kissed Henry.

He’d almost kissed Henry.

Fuck!

“Right,” he slurred as he pushed his hands back through his hair- too long, needed a haircut. “Bedtime, sleep. Yup.”

“Joey?”

“See you in the morning?” he mumbled, although glancing at the clock, he wondered if that was a little optimistic. “Tomorrow,” he amended.

“Tomorrow,” Henry agreed, looking a little disappointed.

Joey refused to think about it. He wouldn’t start to hope. It would hurt too much if this all went wrong.

______

They didn’t talk about it.

Or rather, Joey, didn’t talk about it.

Henry tried to bring it up the next morning but Joey just laughed it off before his heart could get torn to pieces. He didn’t need confirmation that his crush was a no go. He already knew, but he really didn’t need to hear the words. Not to mention his hangover was an utter bitch and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and feel sorry for himself, which is exactly what he did.

After a few days, or was it weeks, months, years? Time seemed to stop existing, all Joey knew was his clothes seemed to be tighter than before and he was in desperate need of a haircut, but after a lockdown-eque period of time, all was forgotten. They fell back into their usual routine, and Joey’s crush continued to simmer just below the surface, unnoticed by Henry.

He’d started to facetime Madeleine most evenings just before bed now that the novelty of living with a bloody filmstar had worn off. He missed her terribly and she seemed to be going crazy at her parent’s house. There was a twinge of guilt stabbing in his chest when he realised he’d all but forgotten about her the first few weeks of lockdown, but it was nice to catch up with her again.

Henry was brilliant, but he was no Madeleine Hyland. He wasn’t Joey’s best friend.

And sometimes Joey just needed to vent about Henry’s stranger habits. Like seriously, why wass there that weird sponsored water just stationed around the house? And what was with the weirdly staged selfies on instagram. It made Joey feel a whole lot better about his own lack of media presence. He’d rather be a mystery online than this boomer energy than Henry had going on.

Venting to Madeleine helped too, he got less frustrated about the shit hole that was life during a pandemic. A little less angry, a little less depressed, and a little less pathetic with his pining over Henry, although Madeleine would probably disagree.

She was probably right.

The sudden cold turn in the weather hadn’t helped. It wasn’t too bad but Joey had mostly brought summer clothes with him because he honestly hadn’t thought he’d be staying more than a couple of weeks. Thankfully he’d thrown in a couple of onesies for comfort reasons so he spent most his days dressed like a tiger and hoping that Henry would find it endearing. The best part was his onesies were a bit looser and fit him more comfortably than his normal clothes. A lockdown diet was brilliant, but not exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d gone shopping all those years ago.

What he hadn’t expected, was for Henry to rock up to dinner wearing the stupid bunny onesie that Joey had left in his room.

“There,” Henry greeted him with a broad smile, “Now we match.”

It wasn’t fair. Joey wanted to kiss him so badly. The white onesie was a little short on Henry, pulling up just above his ankles, and it still managed to stretch at his shoulders, but it was so fucking adorable and Joey could pin point the exact moment his crush tumbled over the edge into love.

It was the crinkles at the corner of Henry’s eyes as he smiled, the slight tilt of his head, the sparkle in his ocean blue eyes.

Except they weren’t just blue. No, there were specks of golden brown in one eye, that were just captivating. Joey felt like he could so easily get lost in Henry. Every time he looked at the man he found something new and exciting.

“Darling, you look adorable!” he cooed, before he could get too distracted by the fluttering of his own heart. “Very cuddly.”

Henry chuckled and opened his arms wide, allowing Joey to barrel into them. “That was the idea.”

“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked, hoping that Henry would have forgotten that-

“It’s your turn to cook.”

“Bugger,” Joey whined. “Cheesy pasta?”

“You made that last time,” Henry teased.

“I’m very good at carbonara!” Joey countered.

“Melted cheese on pasta isn’t carbonara.”

Joey scoffed. “Eh, close enough.”

“Fine, make your cheesy pasta.”

“Carbonara,” Joey said with a wink. “I’ll add bacon this time.”

The pasta was overcooked and the bacon was a little chewy, but it was dinner, and afterwards Henry made them both extravagant hot chocolates made from actual chocolate rather than powder shit that Joey used. It was covered in whipped cream and marshmallows and had a healthy amount of Baileys to top it off. They curled up on their usual spot on the sofa, buried under blankets and held the warm mugs close to their chests.

If it had been snowing, then Joey would have thought he’d walked into a Christmas film, all it needed was a fireplace and some fairy lights. It was cosy and warm, and a little bit romantic, or it would be if Henry was interested in men and Joey was his type.

No, he couldn’t think like that.

They were friends, good friends, good friends that liked to cuddle and almost kiss if the dog hadn’t interrupted.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

He took a long gulp of his hot chocolate to stave off his anxiety, not noticing when his nose dived straight into the whipped cream until he looked up to find Henry staring at him with a fond expression. Warmth flooded through Joey’s chest as he returned the smile, feeling high on love and sugar.

“Hi,” he breathed, sounding as love sick as he felt.

Henry’s smile brightened, filling the whole room with light and Joey could have sworn he could hear the swell of violins in the soundtrack of his life.

“Hi,” Henry replied easily as if he hadn’t stolen Joey’s breath, heart and soul. “You- umm, cream, here!”

Henry tapped his own nose.

“Oh cock!” Joey hurried to wipe his nose, almost spilling his hot chocolate in the process, “Fuck! Bugger, shit balls!”

Henry, the bastard, just laughed, his arms reaching out to steady the mug and stop Joey from falling to the ground. “I think you made it worse.”

Joey snorted “I got that, yup, thanks.”

This time he could feel the sticky sweet cream clinging to his cheek, the subtle taste of vanilla on his lips. He pouted up at Henry, gazing through his eyelashes in a way that he hoped could be played off as friendly, but also maybe a little bit seductive. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips and he barely resisted the urge to wink.

Maybe there had been more Bailey’s in his drink than he realised.

Instead, he just wiped his face and snuggled back up to Henry, pulling the blanket up to his chin. They settled on watching Always Sunny, so Joey didn’t really have to concentrate. He let the tension drain from his body as he listened to the familiar TV show and then closed his eyes. Warm, happy and wrapped up in the arms of the man he loved-

Joey fell asleep.

He didn’t notice the way Henry was staring down at him as if he hung the fucking moon and stars, or the inner turmoil his friend was plague with as Henry resisted leaning down to kiss Joey in his sleep.

No, Joey was blissfully ignorant, sleeping better than he had in weeks.

________

The rest of lockdown went by in a blur. Their routine started to seem normal and any doubts Joey had about spending so much time with Henry faded away. They bantered easily like they had on set, laughing and giggling over whatever stupid thing one of them had said. Henry would spend hours playing his video games whilst Joey zoomed Madeleine to work on their new album together. When the regulations relaxed they started to walk Kal together, enjoying the quiet summer days and fresh air. The cuddling never really stopped, and some mornings Joey would wake up still curled up against Henry’s chest, their limbs tangled from the night before.

Those were Joey’s favourite mornings. He’d be stiff all day from sleeping on the couch but he could pretend, for just a few moments, that things were more than they were.

The pining never went away but it was truly the sweetest torture that he’d ever had to endure. The domestic bliss being barely a step away from everything he craved.

And when the time came for Joey to return to his flat with Madeleine, he felt like shit. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in the strange fantasy world he had with Henry, eating too much food and drinking too much wine, cuddling and watching crappy Netflix shows.

Which was why he was sat, staring at a messy pile of clothes on his bed, clothes he’d not worn in weeks. Over the chair were his onesies and a collection of jumpers and hoodies that he’d stolen from Henry over the last few months and weeks. Kal stared up at him from the floor, tail thumping against the carpet.

Joey sighed and ran his hand through his hair, trying desperately to ignore the ache in his chest that was growing more painful with everything second that passed. “I don’t know, Kal. I should be happy about going home.”

Kal didn’t respond, his tail still wagging away just like it always did whenever Joey paid attention to him.

“I miss Madeleine, of course I do, but living with Henry has been great. And you, I love you, big fluffy puppy!” He cooed with a big smile as Kal barked happily and jumped up onto the bed. Joey laughed as he tried to keep his face away from the attack, wrapping his arms around Kal’s neck and pressing his nose into the fur.

“If I tell him how I feel that’s just going to make season two really really awkward, but I just feel like I’m missing a chance, you know?”

If Kal knew, he either didn’t care or just enjoyed watching Joey suffer. There was no reply and Kal just rested his head in Joey’s lap.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, still running his fingers through Kal’s fur. “You’re no use.”

Kal snorted at that and Joey rolled his eyes.

“But I love you anyway, yes I do!”

“Ready to go?” Henry asked from the door.

“Shit!” Joey yelped. “How long have you been standing there?!”

Henry chuckled, striding into the room and perching on the bed opposite Joey. He reached out to scratch Kal on the head with a dazzling smile. Joey felt his cheeks warm up and he buried his face in Kal’s fur to hide the blush. So many months and he still couldn’t stop his heart from racing whenever Henry smiled. He was pathetic.

And he was running out of time.

He knew it was a bad idea, even entertaining the thought of dating a co-star, but he’d regret it if he didn’t give it a shot. I mean he could always blame the mixed signals if it went wrong. They’d nearly kissed twice and Joey didn’t even cuddle Madeleine as much as he’d cuddled Henry. They were probably the only people that were less touch-starved during the lockdown than before.

So Joey was going to tell him.

Just three words.

He could do that.

Fuck!

He couldn’t do that.

“Joey?” Henry said, reaching out to squeeze Joey’s shoulder.

Joey blinked. Had Henry been talking to him? He’d asked a question so that would make sense. God, his anxiety had gone through the roof, it was like that first day all over again.

“Need to pack,” he mumbled, gesturing at his clothes.

Henry let out a long and heavy sigh, sounding just as thrilled about the idea as Joey did. “I suppose you do, yeah. When is Madeleine due over?”

Joey hummed, glancing at his watch. “Ten minutes ago. Lockdown traffic must be a thing of the past.”

“Pity.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Henry sighed.

Neither of them moved, both staring glumly at Kal who was happily nestled between them. It was strange but Joey had almost begun to think of Kal as his, theirs. Their home, their life, their dog. He would miss Kal very much.

He would miss Henry even more.

“Do you have a start date yet?” Joey asked, the restrictions were lifting and there were talks about getting back to work again, but it was all up in the air.

Henry shook his head. “Should be getting a call from my agent some time this week. I need to make sure my other projects can work around the schedule.”

Joey smirked, “Or my dear witcher will have a new face next time we meet,” he teased.

Henry scoffed. “Not a chance, you’re stuck with me, bard.”

“You still owe me an apology,” Joey shot back, not quite realising how close they’d gotten during their mock argument.

He swallowed and licked his lips, one hand reaching up to scratch the stubble on his cheek. His face was burning right up to the tips of his ears, his heart thumping in his chest. There was a spark of electricity crackling between them, the scent of coffee lingering on Henry’s breath.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Henry promised, voice hoarse and low, making heat spread through Joey’s body and the world around them seemed to disappear.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Henry breathed, the words shaky.

Joey longed to reach out and brush his fingertips along the strong line of Henry’s jaw, to feel the scratch of stubble beneath his skin. He longed to tangle his hands in the dark mess of curls, to see if they were really as soft as they looked. It felt as if there was a magnetic force pulling them closer, a string tying their souls together, binding them as one. Joey couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to, and he was over that. He couldn’t live inside his head any longer, not when there was a chance.

Hope.

Deadly, poisoning his very soul, until he could think of nothing except Henry’s lips on his, hands roaming bodies, pulling at hair, unable to resist the promised pleasures of sin. Tongues tangling. Hearts singing. One breath shared between two. Heat. Lust. Love.

Just Henry.

His love.

Joey closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Henry’s, their lips barely ghosting over each other, you really couldn’t call it a kiss; not yet. One more breath, a millimetre to close the gap.

A horn honked from outside and they pulled apart before they could cross the bridge, past the point of no return.

Joey let out a slightly manic laugh and ran his hands through his hair, whilst Henry went back to stroking Kal as he cleared his throat.

“Bollocks, I still haven’t packed.”

“I’ll invite Madeleine in for some tea,” Henry chuckled, stretching as he stood up.

Kal barked happily and jumped down, wagging his tail as he sniffed at Henry’s socks.

And Joey was left alone once more.

“Fuck!” he groaned, covering his face as he flopped back onto his pillows.

By the time he finished packing, Madeleine and Henry were laughing away in the kitchen like old friends.

Like Joey and Henry had so many times.

He wasn’t special. Henry was just that guy.

Hope.

Dangerous and lethal, stabbing into the heart and tearing the soul apart.

“Ready,” Joey mumbled, holding up his suitcase and guitar. “Might take a couple of trips, I have another bag upstairs and the damn lute.”

“Not sure I ever heard you play the lute?” Henry teased.

“Yeah well,” Joey grumbled and turned away from the kitchen before he could start crying.

He really really didn’t want to cry in front of Henry. What was a little heartbreak between friends? At least he could channel that into Jaskier whenever they finally got back onto set. God, he was a fucking mess.

“I’ll help you,” Henry volunteered because of course he would. He probably just wanted Joey gone sooner.

The poor bloke probably couldn’t wait to have his own space back without Joey’s inedible attempts at cooking, non-stop music and chatter, lazy slobbish evenings in front of the TV.

He wasn’t going to cry.

He wasn’t.

Fuck!

Joey sniffed and stumbled out the door, his hands gripping his suitcase so tight he thought he might break the handle. Back home with Madeleine, to his life, and his bed, and nights spent drinking too much wine and lurking on social media.

He’d just about managed to throw his suitcase into the boot when he heard a loud bark behind him, followed by Henry grunting. Joey was almost knocked off his feet as Kal bundled into him, circling around as he jumped up, winding the lead around Joey’s body and pulling a poor Henry with him.

Not that Joey was particularly complaining about having Henry pressed up against him, but did it have to be when he was crying?

Henry cursed, struggling to keep hold of the lead. Their faces were close and they had to wrap their arms around each other to keep steady. Joey laughed through his tears, reminded of a similar moment from one of his favourite Disney films.

Only Kal was a lot bigger than a Dalmatian.

“I don’t think he wants you to leave?” Henry said, smiling sheepishly.

Joey smiled back despite his broken heart. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I- I don’t want you to leave either,” Henry whispered so quietly that Joey wasn’t sure whether he’d heard it at all. “I- umm, I like having you here… with me.”

“Oh,” Joey replied stupidly.

“Fuck, I- Joey… Can- can I kiss you?”

The world turned upside down. Joey's heart stopped and everything started to spin. He tried to process the words but nothing seemed to make sense. There was no fucking way that Henry had said that, that he wanted to- wanted to…

Fuck!

“Oh,” he repeated, blinking at Henry as he licked his lips. “I mean. Fuck. No, I mean… Christ. Yes. Please. Yes.”

Henry chuckled and cupped his cheek, pressing their lips together in the most tender of kisses, taking Joey’s breath away right there on the pavement. Joey just giggled when they parted and then swooped back in for another kiss, and another-

And he never wanted to stop.

He didn’t need to breathe, he just needed this; Henry’s lips on his.

Henry had other ideas though, pulling away with a blinding smile.

“Stay with me?”

Joey nodded and threw his arms around Henry’s neck. “God, yes.”

And then they kissed some more. They had months of lockdown to catch up on, after all.

[knightofameris]

uncharacteristic team-ups — avengers (stark!reader)

Setting: Timelines? What are timelines? I have no clue when this could be so have fun but also who cares lol (basically an AU) Gender: Neutral Contains: curse words, an in-depth description of death (like lots of it), blood, a bit of fighting alcohol mention, everything in here is platonic but relationship with peter parker could be read either way Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: What happens when a mission gone bad leads you to team up with some vigilantes who aren’t known to be good team players? Except, you have to team up with the so-called Defenders of New York as they’re the only way to get your dad back.

a/n: a self-indulgent piece,,,, lol. also uploading this despite it being done a long time ago since i haven’t posted in a hot minute.

Let me know if there are any mistakes, regarding the gender of reader, grammar, spelling, or with the story. c:

Enjoy! [repost from old account

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

❝ the most powerful people in New York and you were a part of it ❞

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

The abject horror one feels when coming across a dead body is one no one ever talks about. The stench, the sudden realization of how fragile life is. If said dead body is mutilated, violated, eyes left open to stare into the unlucky person to come upon it, it’s even worse.

But (Y/n) was left in a worse situation. The feeling of their dinner wanting to leave their stomach the same way it entered caused them to cover their mouth, trying to hold it back. The array of bodies strewn about in the warehouse caused them to shut their eyes and pinch their nose.

No one ever talked about how a body releases everything, and I mean everything, when they go onto the next life.

Now (Y/n) knows why.

“Holy shit,” Peter murmured, plugging his nose. “The smell, I didn’t realize the smell—”

Tony shushed him, his head turning back towards the two teenagers. He should have known that this small takedown of a few crimelords should have been left to the police. But when he saw his name on one of their weapons, he couldn’t help but want to investigate. Now he regrets it because even on missions, he’d ensure that (Y/n) and Peter would never see dead bodies. And now they were seeing more than they should.

Tony’s hand gripped (Y/n)’s shoulder, giving them a small squeeze then looking back over the railings onto the first floor where the bodies laid.

The lights on his armor dimmed and (Y/n) looked up at him with a tilt of their head.

“Something’s wrong,” a voice spoke out, a group of footsteps sounded throughout the warehouse. (Y/n)’s eyes widened and began to back up on the catwalk they were on, hiding from the voices.

“God, this is disgusting,” a woman spoke out.

“You’re telling me, Frank Castle, did this?” A man in a hoodie asked.  

“Yes, but this group, they wouldn’t be his MO,” another man wearing a red armored suit responded. “Luke I’m going to need you to—wait.” His mouth parted, and he tilted his head. Unbeknownst to anyone else, his eyebrows furrowed as he continued listening into his surroundings.

“We’re not alone.” The man turned his head upwards.

“Daredevil, right?” Tony was already over the railings, hovering in the air above them. The HUD on (Y/n)’s domino mask they wore had instructions over it: ‘Do not show yourself until I say so. I know you’ll do it, but don’t do it.’ (Y/n) and Peter exchanged glances in which Peter only shrugged.

“Or should I say, Matt Murdock?” Tony pointed his finger at the man in the suit, his helmet promptly coming off. Matt tensed up, his jaw clenching. His fingers parted from the eskimo sticks he held then regripped it.

“Great, now we’re dealing with superheroes,” the woman sighed, walking away.

“Isn’t that Jessica Jones?” (Y/n) murmured towards Peter. Peter inched forward, peeking over the railings then looked back at (Y/n). He nodded his head. (Y/n) lets out a silent grunt of approval then slowly sat down, wanting to hear their dad’s interactions with them.

“I’m sorry,” Tony gestured towards her and his eyebrows furrowed. “Rosie the Riveter, from what I could tell, what you guys have done in the past few years could deem you as heroes.”

“Look, this isn’t something you could blast your way through, Stark.”

“Oh, so this is something you could, punch your way through, Mr. Luke Cage is it?”

“Okkaaayyy,” (Y/n) called out, jumping over the railings and ignoring the dead bodies below. “Dad, they’re on the same side as us, they might know more than us.” They landed with grace in front of the adults and then promptly jumped back up, tapping their mask that uncovered their face. “(Y/n) Stark, but you probably already knew that.”

Tony began protesting (Y/n) but they just ignored him after putting their hand out to shake the hands of the others with a smirk on their face. (Y/n) didn’t even notice Peter landing next to them until he did a two-finger salute.

“H-hi, Spider-Man, nice to meet you guys,” Peter stammered out. “I’m usually in Queens.”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes then turned around to face Tony who’s helmet already came off. His face full of exasperation and the wrinkle lines could probably very well be from the stress from taking care of his kids.

“I swear to god,” Tony flicked the back of (Y/n)’s head lightly, “you’re both going to be the death of me.”

(Y/n) giggled, trying to make light of the situation before turning back to the others.

“We’re on a bit of a time crunch, so please, if you could just get out of our way.” Jessica leaned on one of her legs, her voice slightly desperate. (Y/n) arched a brow at her. Peter raised his hand in the air and everyone glanced over at him. “Just talk, kid.”

“You know, if you work with us you won’t have to deal with the illegality of being a vigilante,” Peter spoke up.

“So what, we’d be Avengers-in-training?” A man (Y/n) and Tony recognized as the heir of Rand Enterprises, Danny Rand. Tony had meant him once, with Pepper.

Luke scoffed, “No thanks, we’re not—”

“Heroes?” (Y/n) interrupted. “Don’t you guys already have a nickname?” (Y/n) glanced up at their dad who clicked his tongue and began nodding his head, gesturing to (Y/n) then back to them.

“Yeah, yeah, the Defenders, right?” Tony asked. “Rhetorical question but you guys need us,” he turned around, looking over the dead bodies then back up at the catwalk he was at minutes earlier, “just as much as we need—”

(Y/n) frowned and everyone exchanged glances wondering why Tony would just stop talking, he loved hearing himself talk.

He was even frozen in place, his hand raised to the side and his foot just hovering over the ground.

There’s a certain gut wrenching feeling you usually get before the bad thing happens, in movies, in real life. Usually you just look away, ignore it, and wait for the next scene. But in this situation, in this world that (Y/n) lives in, you gotta look. You gotta watch to find out what the next move is.

(Y/n)’s gaze followed their dad’s, wondering what Tony was looking at.

“Don’t look up!” Matt shouted, pushing both teenagers’ heads down. “Don’t look at her.” He held both of them there.

“Oh my,” an alluring voice called out. (Y/n) suddenly felt at peace and almost wanted to fight against Matt and look up to see who the voice belonged to. “I never would have thought I could catch one of the big ones.”  

“If you can,” Matt murmured towards the two of them, “Change your masks to see in infrared.” He slowly let go. (Y/n)’s mask covered their eyes, and they blinked, suddenly seeing everything in infrared. They looked up and saw a woman who radiated no heat but her eyes, her eyes were burning hot.

Jessica and the others had on goggles with the name Rand on the side, their fists were held up, prepared to fight the moment they saw Tony’s helmet come back online.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter called out, his voice wary.

The woman laughed, weaving her arm through Tony’s arm and hugging it tight. “I’m afraid Mr. Stark isn’t able to come to the phone right now.”

“What did you do to him!?” (Y/n) demanded, pulling out their bo staff. Jessica grabbed their arm and held them back.

“Not now, kid,” she said. (Y/n) tried shrugging her off but her grip just tightened. What they didn’t realize was another man walking out from above, a skull painted on his chest and two assault rifles in his hand.

“Alright, honey,” the woman wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck, “Let’s get out of here. And Frankie, be a dear and take them out for me?”

“Wait, dad!” (Y/n) called out, reaching their arm up towards him as he flew up and blasted a hole in the roof.

“Watch out!” (Y/n) was jolted out of their daze from Tony seemingly under the woman’s control when Luke grabbed them and set them behind him once the man, Frank Castle, began raining bullets down on them. Matt, Jessica, and Danny dove behind a car that was set in the warehouse.

Peter launched himself up onto the roof using his webs. Then pointed it towards Frank.

“That’s unfair, you can’t use guns on unarmed people!” His webs hooked onto the two guns and he yanked it back. Frank stumbled forward, grunting as he lost his balance. He wasn’t able to react fast enough when Peter launched two webs beside him only to catapult into him, knocking him out the moment his head slammed into the wall behind him.

(Y/n) gripped their bo staff, their knuckles white and waited before the shooting stopped. They watched as Peter jumped back down with a webbed-up Frank Castle in his arms. (Y/n) turned to face the other adults and their mask came off, their face red with fury behind their eyes.

“You better tell us what the deal with that woman was because she just kidnapped my dad, Tony-fucking-Stark and we’re helping whether you like it or not.”

***

“So you’re telling me,” (Y/n) rubbed her forehead, “that Adeline Trost, the woman who took my dad, can control people when she makes eye contact with them.”

“Yes, and that’s why we don’t want to call in the Avengers,” Matt replied. At this point, he was unmasked, relaxing in the confines of his apartment. (Y/n) glanced over at Peter, who still wore his mask, and then over at the others who sat spread out. Frank Castle was webbed to a chair, making him incapacitated in case he’s sitll under her control.

“Well, when one of us is compromised, we have to alert the others,” (Y/n) sighed, burying their face into their hands. They let out a frustrated groan and leaned back in the chair.

(Y/n) didn’t want this, they didn’t want to be the one making the call but they were an Avenger, and a higher ranking one than Peter was. At least, that’s what they both saw (Y/n) as.

Peter fiddled around with his hands, tapping his foot against the ground. He watched (Y/n) let out another frustrated groan and though they just seemed exasperated, he knew that they were worried about their dad. Naturally, he was too. But (Y/n) had probably lost him more times than the two of them can count combined.

“No,” a new voice spoke up, his voice gruff. “If she ends up controlling them, the whole world will be at risk.”

Chairs scratched against the floor as everyone stood up. Frank sat still though, as still as he could. He looked up, his face was bruised up and littered with cuts and scars. If he had powers, he’d be a force to be reckoned with; he still was.

“Are you still…” Danny’s arm was outreached towards him, cautious in case Frank could break out of the webs, despite it being extremely strong.

“Under that bitch’s control?” Frank asked, his head tilted. “No.” He shook his head. “I’m not and Murdock over there can tell you I’m telling the truth.”

(Y/n) looked over at Matt, their eyes narrowed at the lawyer. Matt’s face was relaxed, most likely listening to Frank’s heart.

“He’s telling the truth, you can unweb him,” Matt assured. Jessica walked over behind him before Peter could make his way over and ripped open the webs. Frank shortly stood up, letting the webs fall to his feet. He groaned as he rubbed his neck and dusted the webs off of himself.

“Woah,” Peter murmured and looked over at (Y/n) while pointing towards her, “she’s strong.” Jessica rolled her eyes and walked over to the fridge and took out a beer.

“I’m taking this Murdock.” She raised the beer then took the cap off and began chugging. Matt didn’t respond, knowing he couldn’t deny her.

“So what’s the plan?” Luke crossed his arms, looking back and forth between (Y/n) and the others.

“Alert the Avengers and,” (Y/n) raised a hand up in the air before anyone could protest, “let them know that Tony’s compromised and to not trust him. I’ll let them know that I can handle it too.”

“And you’re sure they’d trust his kid and Spider-Kid?” Luke nodded towards Peter.

“Spider-Man, it’s Spider-Man,” Peter whined.

Jessica cocked a brow at him, “You’re a kid, Spider-Kid.” (Y/n) stifled a laugh, patting Peter on his back before taking out their phone.

“I’m sure,” said (Y/n) and walked away from the group to call Rhodey.

***

Rhodey walked up to Frank, who was significantly taller and more toned, despite Rhodey actively being War Machine and a Colonel.

Frank stared down at him, adjusting his stance and his fingers fiddled around against the palm of his head rhythmically.

“Look, Colonel,” Frank started, “with all due respect, this is one of the jobs that the Avengers can’t take up. Might as well be well below your paygrade.”

Rhodey scoffed with a smile, placing his hands on his hips, the whirring of the mechanics surrounding his legs filling the quiet room. Everyone watched with silent, observant eyes. You could literally cut the tension in the room with a butterknife. (Y/n) knew they were in deep shit when Frank glanced over at them from the corner of his eye.

“This is a job that’s already been taken up by the Avengers,” said Rhodey. “When one of our own is compromised, we’re involved. I could call in the authorities right now and have you arrested. All of you.” He pointed at the other four. “But I won’t, even if I should.”

Jessica groaned, walking towards a chair and falling into it. “I need a fucking drink and I blame you, Stark.” (Y/n) ran their hand through their hair nervously and walked over towards Peter, hoping to find comfort near him.

“Can we stop this?” Luke asked, desperation laced in his words. “The longer we take on finding a way to work together, the longer it takes to take down Adeline. Frank, you need to learn how to be a team player.”

(Y/n) draped an arm over their stomach, their other hand going up to the side of their face, taping on their mask to let it go over their face and watched Tony’s vitals that the two of them setup for each other. A way to make sure the other was safe in a situation like this.

They pursed their lips, tapping their fingers against their side, ignoring what the others were talking about and just watched Tony’s heartbeat across the screen.

That’s all (Y/n) wanted, for their dad to be back and safe and alive. They’ve lost him too many times, too many near death counts. This can’t be the one where they truly lose him.

***

The streets were nearly empty of civilians. Buildings were destroyed and, despite ‘the Defenders’ wanting to keep the Avengers out of it, the Avengers became a part of it. But with the Avengers becoming a part of it, the risk of them falling under Adeline’s control increased.

The plan was to bring Adeline out in the open, have the Avengers as secret weapons in case the plan went south if the Defenders (and Colleen, she didn’t want to be left out) got stuck in control and to have Wanda use her powers to invoke her worst fears and to read her mind.

But what they didn’t expect was Adeline being able to counter Wanda’s powers and she worked backwards, bringing Wanda down to her fears and then putting her under control. One by one, the Avengers who were there, Rhodey, Steve, Sam, and Natasha, fell straight into her control.

Leaving the misfit heroes (not that they’d ever call themselves that) with the two Avengers-in-training to take out Adeline and bring them back. Which brought the block they occupied in Manhattan to be destroyed.

(Y/n) slowly walked up to Tony, ignoring the sounds of protests behind her. The Defenders, miraculously, brought a few of the Avengers back to their side, aiding them in the fight against the others, especially  Wanda. They all helped each other up, leaning on each other for support as they watched (Y/n) confront Tony.

His mask was off and his eyes were dull as he stared into (Y/n)’s eyes. His gauntlet was pointed straight at them, one repulsor blast and they’d be done for. But Tony was hesitating.

(Y/n) tapped the side of their mask allowing the nanotech to show their face; allowing themself to be vulnerable even in the case that Adeline appeared. But they didn’t care, they just needed to get their dad back.

“Dad, it’s me, it’s (Y/n).” They smiled but choked on a sob when they heard the whir of his repulsor. Until Tony cracked a smirk and he grunted, using his other hand to pull the one pointed at (Y/n)’s face back down.

Tony yelled, falling to the ground, his face scrunched up in determination. The ground hit (Y/n)’s knees, landing next to him and grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Hey kid,” he breathed out, placing his hand on her shoulder as he stood back up. The glimmer in Tony’s eyes coming back and (Y/n) knew he was back. His helmet covered his face and (Y/n)’s mask followed. “You in infrared? I don’t want you to fall und—”

(Y/n)’s arms wrapped around him, despite the bulky armor.

“How do you always get caught up in this shit, dad?” Tony hugged back, the mouth of his faceplate slightly tapping the top of their head as if it was a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d be me if I didn’t get caught up in this shit.” He pulled away, glancing back to the fight. “How’d you even pull me out?”

(Y/n) shrugged, “I just looked you in the eye. We got Frank out by knocking him out really hard too, and the others.”

“Sounds good, now how do we deal with the Adeline chick?”

“Already got her,” Jessica said. The two Starks turned to face the powered woman who held a woman with her eyes covered. Jessica shoved her down at their feet, her hands tied together. Both of the Starks’ masks came off, showing their face.

“Well, that was easy.”

“For you, maybe.” Luke spit out a mouthful of blood, walking up to them, limping. Others trailing behind.

Steve grabbed his helmet from the ground, holding it to his side. “You guys did good, you know. Not a lot of people could say they went toe-to-toe with the Avengers and survived. We could use more people with your abilities.”

“Yeah well,” Colleen sheathed her sword and held her side, leaning on Danny for support.

“We’re not heroes,” Frank finished for her.

“No matter how much you guys deny it,” said (Y/n), “you guys are heroes. You worked with us, saved us, helped me get my dad back and defeated the enemy. You’re my hero.”

“We should cap this conversation for another time.” Natasha gestured towards Adeline squirming on the ground and then towards civilians making their way to watch a large group of heroes interacting with each other.

“Sure, but I’m tossing it in the ocean because I’m not down to join a band,” Jessica began walking away, despite her wounds. “You know where to find me though, if you need me.”

They all watched as she walked off.

“She’s always like that, don’t worry,” Matt brought up with a slight smile.

“She acts cold, but she’s warm-hearted. A bit blunt at times,” Luke added.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes as the adults began to talk about trying to recruit the others to be Avengers. Peter inched his way over to them and (Y/n) looked up at him.

“This is pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Peter asked.

(Y/n) nodded their head, “It’s like a crazy crossover special episode. Pretty badass.”

a/n: skfhgkdsfg i had fun writing this even if it’s not the best but i hope you guys still enjoyed it nonetheless!

[haberdashing]

What A Tangled Web We Weave (12/?)

TMA AU diverging from canon at the end of episode 92. Jon is forced into an arranged marriage by Elias; Martin does what he can to help.

on AO3

A few more days came and went without much happening. Martin kept waiting for the fallout from what he’d shared with Melanie, whether that was an emotional reunion with Tim or (much more likely) Tim cornering him in the hallway and insisting that they would never be friends again, but Tim just kept half-assing his archival work and taking every opportunity to leave the room and never actually talking through things.

Not the best possible outcome there, certainly, but perhaps not the worst, either.

Melanie and Basira kept to themselves for the most part, too, and Jon kept spending all his time tucked away in his office, though Martin made sure to bring him tea every day, partly in the hopes of improving his mood and partly just as an excuse to go in and see Jon again. Most days he was dismissed with a soft “Thank you” or a simple hand gesture, but that was enough.

Hyperaware as he was of any changes in this fragile status quo they’d established, Martin noticed that on this particular day Jon went up the stairs to the rest of the Institute and didn’t reappear down in the Archives for some time afterwards, but he tried not to think too much about it, didn’t breathe a word of what thoughts he’d had on the subject as he arrived in Jon’s office with tea in hand (hands, plural, really, as he held one mug off to the side for himself as he carefully placed the other onto Jon’s desk).

“Penny for your thoughts?” Martin tried his best to keep his voice upbeat and calm, to make it sound like just a casual inquiry that Jon could reject if he didn’t feel like talking through things with Martin.

Jon looked up at Martin and let out a low sigh, and for a moment Martin thought that that was all he was going to get out of Jon, and while that wasn’t ideal, he could live with that, just as he’d lived with similar dismissals for the past several days...

“Apparently they’ve decided who my future spouse will be.”

Martin was suddenly very glad that he had yet to touch his own mug of tea, because otherwise he most certainly would have spit it out at that comment.

Then he realized what it meant that not only had the decision been made, but Jon had been told about it, and Martin’s blood ran cold.

He’d thought he had more time, was the thing. Martin thought that in time maybe he could try to drop subtle hints here and there about his new alignment, perhaps soften up Jon’s opinion of spiders a bit while he was at it, but now all those plans went out the window.

And yet Jon was looking at Martin as he always did, with an expression that was difficult to read but seemed to fall somewhere between curiosity and annoyance. Not disgust, not horror, not betrayal.

“And?” Martin did his best to keep his voice level, to sound calm and collected, to stop his hand from shaking too badly as it held a still-full mug of tea he hadn’t really wanted in the first place.

“And Elias won’t tell me who it is.”

Martin let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He still had time, then. It wasn’t over just yet. “Ah, I- I see.”

“Rather frustrating that he called a meeting just to not tell me the most important bit of information, but then, what else is new...” Jon shook his head and Martin tried not to stare, tried not to look too closely at the long strands of hair now scattered across Jon’s face, black and silver intermingled. “He did say he thought I would be ‘pleasantly surprised’, though. And then gave me that smirk he has where he knows something you don’t and he’s just lording it over you, you know the one...”

“Y-yeah, I know the one.” Martin’s head was reeling. Did Elias really think Jon would be pleasantly surprised by finding out that he’d be marrying Martin? Was he right in thinking that it’d be better for Jon to marry a spider person he knew than a spider person he didn’t? Or perhaps that was sarcasm on Elias’ part, sarcasm that had flown over Jon’s head because he didn’t know any better...

Martin didn’t plan on speaking up again, really, but he found himself doing it just the same.

“Well, think about it. Who would you be pleasantly surprised to have as a marriage partner?”

“I... I don’t know.” Jon closed his eyes briefly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just stopped being wanted for murder, it’s not like I have a blossoming social life outside of this place...”

There was a conversation to be had there about how Jon had adapted to life on the run, who he had lived with (was still living with) when his own flat was suddenly off-limits, but it wasn’t one Martin especially wanted to have right now.

“Well, what about here at the Institute, then?” Martin scrambled to add more. “Tim, maybe? You two were always such good friends...”

“‘Were’ is the operative word there, I’m afraid. I think Tim might actually kill me if the alternative was us having to get married now.” Jon paused for a moment before adding, “Besides, I rather doubt Tim’s got any connection to the Web.”

“Right, well, uh...”

Two other options to ask about then, if he was sticking to Institute staff Jon interacted with regularly (Elias himself was not an option in Martin’s mind). Martin wasn’t exactly the best judge regarding women’s attractiveness, but he figured it was probably a safe bet to go with the one who could actually carry on a conversation with Jon without it inevitably turning into an argument.

“What about Basira? She seems nice enough...”

“I’m not- why does everybody seem to think...” Jon massaged his temple for a moment as his speech trailed off before looking back up at Martin with a strange expression on his face. “Wait... is this about what I think it is?”

Martin’s stomach lurched. It was probably a miracle that he had managed to avoid spilling his tea during this whole conversation, that his hands hadn’t shaken enough to send the mug’s contents flying. “What d’you mean?”

“Martin, are... are you jealous of my future spouse?”

There was no compulsion to the question, but Martin wasn’t actually sure whether that was a good thing. Part of him wanted to explain, to spill his guts without even having to think twice about it, but instead he just stood there, trying to muster up the courage to respond as he felt his face rapidly heating up.

“What? N-no, that’s, that’s not-”

“You are!” Jon made it sound like this was some sort of epiphany, using the sort of tone he usually only employed after a major research breakthrough. “Look, Martin, you don’t have to- to be jealous of the person I’m getting married to-”

“I’m not jealous! I-” Martin took a breath and tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke again, though he wasn’t sure that it worked. “I am not jealous of your future spouse.”

“If you say so.” Jon didn’t sound convinced; apparently, Martin was better at lying than at telling the truth these days. “Either way, Elias did tell me a bit more about what to expect with all of this. Did you know he’s married to Peter Lukas?”

Martin blinked a few times, the urge to further deny his jealousy fading as he parsed what Jon had to say. “Peter Lukas, the- the guy who runs the Tundra?”

“That’s the one.”

“No, I, I didn’t know that.”

“Apparently it was a similar situation, more about connecting their patrons than about them specifically--and also Institute funding, maybe? They’re married, but they barely interact with one another, and whatever deal required them getting married in the first place must not have stopped them from getting divorced... several times over, in fact...”

“Elias said all that?”

“Well, the marriage and divorce part I already knew, actually, but... the point is, I don’t know what my relationship will be like. Maybe it’ll be like Elias and Lukas, where one of them’s not even around the other one most of the time... or maybe that’s because Lukas’ god is big on isolation, it’s hard to say. But it probably won’t be quite like a normal marriage, at any rate.”

Martin knew that Jon was trying to comfort him, in a weird, roundabout way.

Martin wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about Jon being so nonchalant in discussing his upcoming marriage (their upcoming marriage), but it was pretty far off the mark from comforted.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Martin. We’ll see how things go soon enough. If we’re lucky, it won’t be long before...” Martin waited for Jon to finish the sentence, but instead, Jon just let it trail off into nothingness.

“Jon?” Martin prompted.

“Sorry, I... I was going to say ‘before things are back to normal,’ but what even is normal here? Is dealing with Prentiss normal? Is having a monster as an assistant and not knowing it normal? Things haven’t really been normal for a while now, have they?”

“R-right.” Martin’s stomach lurched at the mention of Prentiss, and lurched again at the mention of one of Jon’s assistants being a monster. He meant the thing that replaced Sasha, Martin knew that, but... “J-Jon, I-”

“Yes, Martin?”

Martin looked at Jon for a moment that seemed to last for an eternity, took in the bags under his eyes, the scars both old and new, and the way he was looking up at Martin with interest, his dark eyes wide as he waited to hear what Martin had to say next...

Martin gulped. He couldn’t do it. Damn his cowardice, but he couldn’t make himself follow through with what he had meant to say, not when Jon was looking up at him like that, clinging to his every word.

“I, er, think it’s probably time I get back to work. Hope your tea hasn’t gone cold yet after all my yammering...”

Jon nodded. “Of course, of course. And I wouldn’t worry about that, though if it’ll make you feel better-” Jon paused and picked up the mug of tea that Martin had deposited on his desk, took a sip in a motion that Martin couldn’t tell if it was actually exaggerated on Jon’s part or if he was just imagining things. “It’s still fine. Thank you, Martin.”

“N-no problem. Any time.”

When Martin closed the door behind himself, still holding his own mug of tea that he hadn’t even wanted to begin with, he felt the mad urge to chuck the mug at some piece of furniture nearby, watch it shatter against a file cabinet or see its contents slowly stain the contents of a bookshelf.

Instead, though, Martin just sighed, clutched his mug even harder, and went back to work as if nothing had happened.

[sunevial]

While I will get to the small backlog of writing prompts I have yet to get to eventually, I’m feeling up to telling a different story involving the Followers. Today, you’re getting the origin story.

Not the characters, oh no, this is the story of how this shit show came together into something coherent. Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.

As some of you may know, the Followers are each loosely based around and upon eight members of patrons on the Internet Remix Patreon server. I happen to only truly ‘own’ Witch; every other character involved belongs to the person that originally came up with them. If you didn’t happen to know this, here’s a quick rundown of everyone involved:

Me (Sunev or Meg): Witch

@hewhowalksbehind (Onyx): Lieutenant

@missvulpix212 (Missfoxx): Old Priestess

@arahul-abyssia (Arahul): Advisor

@archerowl6 (Archer): Huntress

@joy-in-opera (Carl): Bookkeer

@kylethewarrior (Kyle): Part Timer

CollectorOfMyst (Myst): Young Priest 

Now, this was right around when Internet Remix was announcing Camp Streamix and all of us on the Patreon server were choosing teams. A couple of us immediately rallied around Kristen and Team Murder, each for our own reasons (Onyx in solidarity for also living in the void state, Missfoxx given her longstanding friendship with Kristen, me for the storytelling and a long running joke that I was Kristen’s witch, Arahul for the intrigue, and Archer for the horror elements). 

Not long after this, we all got to joking that as the patrons, we were like Kristen’s followers in a way. I was the first one to really create a ‘persona’ as a follower of team murder, someone who vaguely resembled me and was dressed in red (a precursor to Witch’s final design). Given that I was already ‘the witch’ in another long since dead RP thing with some of my friends, I began to take the title of The Witch as a joke. Not long after, those of already committed to Team Murder all began discussing what we would each be if we had to put a role to what each of us were. 

Missfoxx was the older priest of the group, given that she had the longest relationship with Kristen.

Onyx was the right hand, given the two of them were both ‘void denizens’ and he already had jokingly begin to call Kristen ‘captain’ once he declared Team Murder.

Arahul was more of an advising figure, given that most of us consider him especially wise for his age.

Archer, perhaps a bit more on the nose, would obviously be a hunter of sorts given her name, the executioner as you will.

Along the way, we began joking that we needed a younger priest to complement the older, and jokingly said that we could just ‘steal’ Myst away if we really needed to. 

And slowly, we began constructing characters. 

After a little of this brainstorming and realizing that I happened to be really good at putting together something out of sparse details, I made the decision to go everyone and ask “Hey, I have this idea for a story, mind if I piece some things together and try and make this more coherent?” 

One by one, they each said yes, giving me little details on clothing and background, but ultimately leaving a lot of the larger stuff to me. So I took the threads all my friends gave me, thought about what I could do with it, and began to weave.

The Followers were born out of that weaving, a set of demi-gods and ‘angels by any other name’ who loyally serve the Murder God.

As I was writing, I realized with my own character, the Witch, matched perfectly to the witch role within the DMP game, and so that thread was woven into the story thread. 

Lieutenant and Old Priestess became more than their titles; they were now the two werewolves, partners in crime, and influential beyond belief. 

Advisor became the seer, able to peek into people’s minds and into the future. 

Huntress became the gunslinger, searching for justice and agency. 

Young Priest became the gardener, a speck of flavor text and light in a dark world. 

I was never expecting this little fan project to become as popular as it did, but it absolutely exploded among the people who were involved and among others in the Patreon server. People encouraged me to write more, and once I realized just how far this silly little project had reached, I decided to start plan out a small sequel project that would bring in some elements I had hinted in the original introductory work.

During this continual worldbuilding, things slowly began expanding out of that small, initial circle. Not long after, we brought Carl into the mix, as she was jokingly called the ‘bookkeeper’ given that she always fills up the out of context quotes chat and had introduced her own sort of ‘follower’ character not connected to the work I had done. Thus the Bookkeeper was born, representing the minion role and the group’s scribe

Kyle’s character followed soon after, though his was on a technicality. Because he wasn’t officially really any team with his penchant of donating to whichever team he felt like, we said that any character of his would just be there part time. Thus the Part Timer was born, representing the Doctor role and the group’s technology expert and partial spy.

With that, we had eight followers, which was all I could both reasonably write, and perhaps symbolically, represented the eight legs of a spider (given the large theme of webbing and the like). I promised to include these two new characters into the sequel series and give them their own time to shine, along with learning more about the current cast. 

With all these characters finally listed out, there was only one last thing to do. Give them their proper titles and honorifics fitting of the original five and the three that wandered in.

The Black Stars in the sky 

Lieutenant (or the Right Hand): General of the Eldritch

Old Priestess: General of the Tempest

Witch: General of the Arcane

Advisor: General of the Unknown

Huntress: General of the Wilds

The Blazing Comets burning past

Bookkeeper: Admiral of the Scroll

Part Timer (or Doctor): Admiral of the Syringe

Young Priest: Admiral of the Canvas

There was quite a bit more behinds the scenes work involved with this journey, of course, and I could never have done this without the help of all of my friends who helped me build this world, bring it to live, and paint it in beautiful colors. And, of course, it wouldn’t be where it is today without all the people who read it and told me ‘I want to see more of this’.

So, believe me when I give my sincere thanks to you all for helping me to get this far.

And as for when the next update is coming? I can’t promise anything precise.

But something else?

Give me a week or two :3

[meganrosereads-blog]

2018 New Releases

I love finding new releases. There’s something just so satisfying (and smug) about being one of the first to read an amazing book before everyone else. I often like to trawl the web and find out about the new books and debuts that pique my interest and note them down, because who doesn’t love a good list right???

So here are the first 10 books to be released in 2018 that I have my eye on.

Glass Town by Steven Savile - UK release 13 January 2018 (Fantasy) - St Martin’s Press

“ In 1926, two brothers both loved Eleanor Raines, a promising young actress from the East End of London. But, along with Seth Lockwood, she disappeared, never to be seen again. Isaiah, Seth’s younger brother, refused to accept that she was just gone. It has been seventy years since and the brothers are long dead. But now their dark, twisted secret, threatens to tear the city apart. Seth made a bargain with Damiola, an illusionist, to make a life size version of his most famous trick, and hide away part of London to act as a prison out of sync with our time, where one year passes as one hundred. That illusion is Glass Town. And now its walls are failing. Reminiscent of Clive Barker’s Weaveworld and Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, Savile brings out the magic in the everyday. Glass Town is full of gritty urban landscapes, realistic characters, conflict, secrets, betrayals, magic, and mystery.”

Swan Song by Kerry Andrew - UK release 25 January 2018 (Literary Fiction) - Jonathan Cape

“ In this stunningly assured, immersive and vividly atmospheric first novel, a young woman comes face-to-face with the volatile, haunted wilderness of the Scottish Highlands. Polly Vaughan is trying to escape the ravaging guilt of a disturbing incident in London by heading north to the Scottish Highlands. As soon as she arrives, this spirited, funny, alert young woman goes looking for drink, drugs and sex – finding them all quickly, and unsatisfactorily, with the barman in the only pub. She also finds a fresh kind of fear, alone in this eerie, myth-drenched landscape. Increasingly prone to visions or visitations – floating white shapes in the waters of the loch or in the woods – she is terrified and fascinated by a man she came across in the forest on her first evening, apparently tearing apart a bird. Who is this strange loner? And what is his sinister secret? Kerry Andrew is a fresh new voice in British fiction; one that comes from a deep understanding of the folk songs, mythologies and oral traditions of these islands. Her powerful metaphoric language gives Swansong a charged, hallucinatory quality that is unique, uncanny and deeply disquieting,”

The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock by Imogen Hermes Gowar - UK release 25 January 2018 (Historical Fiction/Magical Realism) - Harvill Secker

“One September evening in 1785, the merchant Jonah Hancock hears urgent knocking on his front door. One of his captains is waiting eagerly on the step. He has sold Jonah’s ship for what appears to be a mermaid. As gossip spreads through the docks, coffee shops, parlours and brothels, everyone wants to see Mr Hancock’s marvel. Its arrival spins him out of his ordinary existence and through the doors of high society. At an opulent party, he makes the acquaintance of Angelica Neal, the most desirable woman he has ever laid eyes on… and a courtesan of great accomplishment. This meeting will steer both their lives onto a dangerous new course, on which they will learn that priceless things come at the greatest cost. Where will their ambitions lead? And will they be able to escape the destructive power mermaids are said to possess? In this spell-binding story of curiosity and obsession, Imogen Hermes Gowar has created an unforgettable jewel of a novel, filled to the brim with intelligence, heart and wit.”

The Wicked Cometh by Laura Carlin - UK release 1 February 2018 (Historical Fiction) - Hodder & Stoughton

“ The year is 1831 Down the murky alleyways of London, acts of unspeakable wickedness are taking place and no one is willing to speak out on behalf of the city’s vulnerable poor as they disappear from the streets. Out of these shadows comes Hester White, a bright young woman who is desperate to escape the slums by any means possible. When Hester is thrust into the world of the aristocratic Brock family, she leaps at the chance to improve her station in life under the tutelage of the fiercely intelligent and mysterious Rebekah Brock. But whispers from her past slowly begin to poison her new life and both she and Rebekah are lured into the most sinister of investigations. Hester and Rebekah find themselves crossing every boundary they’ve ever known in pursuit of truth, redemption and passion. But their trust in each other will be tested as a web of deceit begins to unspool, dragging them into the blackest heart of a city where something more depraved than either of them could ever imagine is lurking … “

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton - UK release 8 February 2018 (Mystery) - Raven Books

“A brilliantly original high concept murder mystery from a fantastic new talent: Gosford Park meets Inception, by way of Agatha Christie ‘Somebody’s going to be murdered at the ball tonight. It won’t appear to be a murder and so the murderer won’t be caught. Rectify that injustice and I’ll show you the way out.’ It is meant to be a celebration but it ends in tragedy. As fireworks explode overhead, Evelyn Hardcastle, the young and beautiful daughter of the house, is killed. But Evelyn will not die just once. Until Aiden – one of the guests summoned to Blackheath for the party – can solve her murder, the day will repeat itself, over and over again. Every time ending with the fateful pistol shot. The only way to break this cycle is to identify the killer. But each time the day begins again, Aiden wakes in the body of a different guest. And someone is determined to prevent him ever escaping Blackheath…”

The Coffin Path by Katherine Clements - UK release 8 February 2018 (Gothic/Horror) - Headline Review 

“ The Coffin Path by Katherine Clements is an eerie and compelling seventeenth-century ghost story set on the dark wilds of the Yorkshire moors. For fans of Michelle Paver and Sarah Waters, this gothic tale will weave its way into your imagination and chill you to the bone. ‘The vibrant new voice of historical fiction’ - Suzannah Dunn. Mercy Booth has lived at Scarcross, the old hall just off the coffin path, for all her life. The moors and the house are in her blood - and her soul. Ellis Ferreby is a mysterious, unpredictable outsider who arrives there unexpectedly and finds himself increasingly drawn into her world. But the house holds a tainted history. And the moor top hides something far darker…”

The Sealwoman’s Gift by Sally Magnusson - UK release 8 February 2018 (Historical Fiction) - Two Roads

“ In 1627 Barbary pirates raided the coast of Iceland and abducted some 400 of its people, including 250 from a tiny island off the mainland. Among the captives sold into slavery in Algiers were the island pastor, his wife and their three children. Although the raid itself is well documented, little is known about what happened to the women and children afterwards. It was a time when women everywhere were largely silent. In this brilliant reimagining, Sally Magnusson gives a voice to Ásta, the pastor’s wife. Enslaved in an alien Arab culture Ásta meets the loss of both her freedom and her children with the one thing she has brought from home: the stories in her head. Steeped in the sagas and folk tales of her northern homeland, she finds herself experiencing not just the separations and agonies of captivity, but the reassessments that come in any age when intelligent eyes are opened to other lives, other cultures and other kinds of loving. The Sealwoman’s Gift is about the eternal power of storytelling to help us survive. The novel is full of stories - Icelandic ones told to fend off a slave-owner’s advances, Arabian ones to help an old man die. And there are others, too: the stories we tell ourselves to protect our minds from what cannot otherwise be borne, the stories we need to make us happy.”

Folk by Zoe Gilbert - UK release 8 February 2018 (Fantasy/Literary Fiction) - Bloomsbury

“ Every year they gather, while the girls shoot their arrows and the boys hunt them out. The air is riddled with spiteful shadows - the wounds and fears and furies of a village year. On a remote and unforgiving island lies a village unlike any other: Neverness. A girl is snatched by a water bull and dragged to its lair, a babe is born with a wing for an arm and children ask their fortunes of an oracle ox. While the villagers live out their own tales, enchantment always lurks, blighting and blessing in equal measure. Folk is a dark and sinuous debut circling the lives of one generation. In this world far from our time and place, the stories of the islanders interweave and overlap, their own folklore twisting fates and changing lives. A captivating, magical and haunting debut novel of breathtaking imagination, from the winner of the 2014 Costa Short Story Award.”

The Toymakers by Robert Dinsdale - UK release 8 February 2018 (Fantasy/Historical Fiction) - Del Rey

“Do you remember when you believed in magic? The Emporium opens with the first frost of winter. It is the same every year. Across the city, when children wake to see ferns of white stretched across their windows, or walk to school to hear ice crackling underfoot, the whispers begin: the Emporium is open! It is 1917, and London has spent years in the shadow of the First World War. In the heart of Mayfair, though, there is a place of hope. A place where children’s dreams can come true, where the impossible becomes possible – that place is Papa Jack’s Toy Emporium. For years Papa Jack has created and sold his famous magical toys: hobby horses, patchwork dogs and bears that seem alive, toy boxes bigger on the inside than out, ‘instant trees’ that sprout from boxes, tin soldiers that can fight battles on their own. Now his sons, Kaspar and Emil, are just old enough to join the family trade. Into this family comes a young Cathy Wray – homeless and vulnerable. The Emporium takes her in, makes her one of its own. But Cathy is about to discover that while all toy shops are places of wonder, only one is truly magical… “

The Philosopher’s Flight by Tom Miller - UK release 13 February 2018 (Fantasy) - Simon & Schuster

“ A thrilling debut from ER doctor turned novelist Tom Miller, The Philosopher’s Flight is an epic historical fantasy set in a World-War-I-era America where magic and science have blended into a single extraordinary art. “Like his characters, Tom Miller casts a spell.” (Matthew Pearl, author of The Dante Club and The Last Bookaneer) Eighteen-year-old Robert Weekes is a practitioner of empirical philosophy—an arcane, female-dominated branch of science used to summon the wind, shape clouds of smoke, heal the injured, and even fly. Though he dreams of fighting in the Great War as the first male in the elite US Sigilry Corps Rescue and Evacuation Service—a team of flying medics—Robert is resigned to mixing batches of philosophical chemicals and keeping the books for the family business in rural Montana, where his mother, a former soldier and vigilante, aids the locals. When a deadly accident puts his philosophical abilities to the test, Robert rises to the occasion and wins a scholarship to study at Radcliffe College, an all-women’s school. At Radcliffe, Robert hones his skills and strives to win the respect of his classmates, a host of formidable, unruly women. Robert falls hard for Danielle Hardin, a disillusioned young war hero turned political radical. However, Danielle’s activism and Robert’s recklessness attract the attention of the same fanatical anti-philosophical group that Robert’s mother fought years before. With their lives in mounting danger, Robert and Danielle band together with a team of unlikely heroes to fight for Robert’s place among the next generation of empirical philosophers—and for philosophy’s very survival against the men who would destroy it. In the tradition of Lev Grossman and Deborah Harkness, Tom Miller writes with unrivaled imagination, ambition, and humor. The Philosopher’s Flight is both a fantastical reimagining of American history and a beautifully composed coming-of-age tale for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider.”