#she obviously removed all her trackers

[book-lover85]

I've had this concept spinning around in my head of Ro being captured by the Neverseen and that's why she hasn't come back from killing Cadfael

and King Dimitar personally asks Sophie to find her and get her out so Sophie has to hide it from Keefe, Fitz, and even Sandor that she's figuring out where Ro is hidden and then go there and bring her back single handedly

and Ro and her are just gossiping the entire time they're sneaking around the hideout

Ro: so... about what we talked about last time...?

Sophie: we are not talking about that in the middle of a Neverseen hideout

Ro: but-

Sophie: shut up I'm trying to pick this lock

Ro: you never let me have fun

[zylev-blog]

Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. “That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

[thewitchblue]

Death was her curse and her gift.

"Tim and I couldn't find out all of her abilities, but she's deadly both from a distance and up close."

Bruce told his children sternly. The Wraith was the newest vigilante and metahuman in Gotham. Her black bodysuit held concealments for her dual blades that release without a sound. She was as silent as a cat and as deadly as a hurricane.

"Avoid her at all costs. Until we find out more about her, she is a threat. Do not engage in a fight."

Bruce's voice was stern and worried. He hated having another masked vigilante running around in Gotham. He can't tell yet if she's a criminal or fighting on the side of good. Sure, she's been on their side so far, but that can change very quickly and very easily.

Unfortunately, his hunt proved fruitless. Every time he got close, it was like she melted into the shadows. She was gone before he said a single word. She did, however, wink at him before she vanished into the night. It was like she knew he wanted to question her, but she had no interest in talking while on patrol.

Jason, of course, didn't listen. He went out looking for her. If he stumbled across a criminal while on the hunt, he obviously took care of them, but his main focus was finding the phantom and questioning her himself.

After a particularly fruitless encounter, he found himself on top of a rooftop, sat down with his legs dangling off the ledge. This was becoming infuriating.

"Fuck! Why is it so hard to find her."

He curses, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He's normally so good at tracking people down, but she's, well, a phantom. He's halfway convinced she's actually a ghost. How does someone just vanish into thin air like that? Does she hide in the shadows and simply walk away? Does she teleport? He couldn't be sure. How was he supposed to find someone who's untrackable? She leaves without a trace. No footsteps in the grime filled streets, no scent he can smell with his slightly heightened senses (he's no bloodhound but surely he'd smell something), even his trackers were removed nearly the second they are placed or straight up avoided entirely. It's like the shadows smack it away for her.

By the end of patrol, he's not happy in the slightest. He's sat outside the Batcave, not wanting to go home yet but not wanting to hang out with his family. His entire night was fruitless.

His head snaps up once he feels a hand on his shoulder. Before he could complain about it, assuming the hand was one of his family members, he stops himself. He notes the hand is much smaller than any of his siblings and certainly smaller than Bruce's massive hands. Then he feels it. A strong tug, almost as if he's been pulled towards a destination. Before he could even struggle, he finds himself in his apartment with a certain ghost vigilante sitting lazily on his favourite chair.

"I believe you have some questions for me, Big Red?"

Her voice was smooth, with a casual tone despite the very horrifying experience unfolding in front of him. He watches almost in awe as twin blades release from her suit silently with a flick of her wrist. She makes no move to threaten him, however. She merely cleans them with a nearby towel. Her eyes watched him with a calculated look as two shadowy hands disarm him with ease.

His brain finally catches up to his situation. He's disarmed, the vigilante knows both where he lives and where the Batcave is, and he has said vigilante on his chair with blades casually being cleaned.

"What do you know?"

Was the only question his dumbfounded brain could think of. What does he do in this situation? If she's a villain, she could've killed him, but if she was good, she wouldn't run away and avoid him.

"Everything, Jason."

Those two words nearly sends him into a panic. What counts as everything?

"Everything about me?"

He was almost hopeful. He desperately hoped she didn't know anything about his family. She lazily hung her legs off the arm of the chair, leaning back while still facing him.

"I know everything about everyone in your vigilante family. You became part of the family after nearly stealing the Batmobile wheels and you died because of the Joker. You've been revived, and honestly you've been through the wringer. Disowned for a moment, with mommy and double daddy issues. Your best friend is named Roy and you are about to have a secret girlfriend."

She said everything with confidence. She really did know everything. Then his brows furrow in confusion,

"Did you just ask me out after telling me my entire life story?"

He was equal parts flabbergasted and flattered. She was bold, that much he can tell. She swings her legs back to the front of the chair to face him normally. Calmly, she replied,

"That depends on what your answer to the question is."

He doesn't even know her name. He said,

"I don't know anything about you."

As if she could tell what he was thinking, she said,

"I'm Y/N. If you kiss me, I might let you take off my mask."

As silent as a tiger, she stalked towards him with a grin, her blades returning to her suit as smoothly as they came out to lower her threat level in his mind. Shadows swirl around her, almost clinging to her like an overprotective best friend. She really isn't here to threaten him. He knows she could skewer him like a kebab or sap away his life force, but he coyly asked,

"How am I going to kiss you through my helmet, punk?"

She smirked, pulling off his helmet in a shockingly gentle manner. He wraps his hands easily around her waist and pulls her closer. She was so close that he could smell her perfume and feel her body heat.

"Well, I am good at keeping secrets."

He said with a sly grin before kissing her. To hell with whatever the others think about their relationship. Sometimes, it's a good thing to take risks.

[smolandweirdwriter]

oh let me tell u i am so normal about adaine so here have a collection of some of my headcanons (that i can remember)

adaine starts dressing more "punk" in a sense because she lives with fig (totally not cause shes trying to remove herself from her goody two shoes appearance that her parents knew)

I also think this comes out of necessity as she doesnt have the money to buy new clothes if they get damaged so ends up sowing patches onto her clothes.

Adaine is the second tallest bad kid (after gorgug) at 5'11 simply because fabian is 5'10 and claims hes 6'0 (adaine is having none of it)

Adaine and tracker are still really close even after kristens breakup

She also has chronic fatigue which did not help her anxiety attacks. for most of her life she just believed she was lazy and not trying hard enough due to her parents thinking she was making excuses

Fig realizes at the beginning of Sophomore year that she really, really likes fun colors. She’s sick of all black. She wears bright red skirts and t-shirts of all colors and she smokes her cigarettes and dyes her hair and paints her nails pale pink and is uniquely, wildly, entirely herself. She doesn’t limit herself to a “rocker aesthetic”. Isn’t the whole point of rebellion to be you? 

Adaine’s style has changed so much. Partway through freshman year, she begins dressing as defiantly as possible. Whatever her parents would hate the most, Adaine wears. She borrows Fig’s clothes, which tend to be a bit too short and tight on her, but it’s all black with a leather skirt and ripped fishnets and her mother calls her a slut and her father forces her to go back to her room and change. Aelwyn mocks her for it over breakfast and Adaine stares at her food and doesn't wear fishnets or crop tops again.

(Aelwyn sneaks out that night wearing a similar outfit because she knows what her parents would say and the idea of the look on her mother's face being pointed at her is enough to terrify her to the point of nausea, and she drinks and drinks and drinks until she forgets to be afraid.)

Still, Adaine's style keeps changing. Sophomore Year it's mostly her Jacket of Useful things, t-shirts, and jeans. But as much as she hated being forced to wear the Hudol uniform, she really likes nice clothes. Junior Year she begins exploring more elven clothing: long skirts, vests with collared shirts, pleated blouses, breeches, tall boots, et cetera. She, Ayda, and Gorgug work together combining Wizardry and Artificing on her Jacket of Useful Things so that it can effectively transform into any coat/jacket/vest/etc to go with her outfit. It's perfect as her style is constantly shifting on a daily basis. 

This is just my thought on all of their heights, but here we go:

Riz is shortest, obviously. He’s actually average-height for a goblin, resting at about 3’6’’. 

Fig gives severe Tall Vibes, so much so that people forget she’s actually only 5’3’’. She wears boots that bring her up to about 5’5’’, but she’s still the second-shortest bad kid.

No one will let Fabian let down how short he is. He’s tried changing his diet, stretching, everything he can imagine—he’s still 5’4’’. It’s mortifying. Fig fits into his clothes perfectly.

Kristen has always felt somewhat ungainly, her limbs at different shapes and sizes, and she’d crash into things a lot. She’s always felt too much: too tall, too wide, too much, too much, too much. Junior Year she starts working out and begins getting comfortable with her body. Still, she’s tall, almost 5’10’’.

Adaine is quite tall, but her parents and sister are taller than her, and she’s spent her life feeling inescapably small. Her posture is good, but there’s something to the way she tilts her head, the general way she carries herself, hunching around a too-big orb and clutching books to her chest, that makes her look short and small. Sophomore Year, her confidence grows, she becomes more stable, and most importantly, she eats much more. She uncurls herself, and by the time she finds Aelwyn again, Aelwyn is horrified to see that her little sister looms over her. Adaine is 5’11.

Gorgug hunches over a lot, and it’s actually after becoming an Artificer that he gets better with his posture, because he’s sitting a lot more now and his back hurts if he hunches too much. His actual height is 6’5’’. He’s the tallest bad kid.

My personal headcanon is that Tracker also has anxiety and used to “wolf out” whenever she got overwhelmed. So she understands Adaine very well, perhaps better than anyone else. She understands the way Adaine’s anger stems from her fear, from her lack of control. Tracker helps her find the right anxiety meds and teaches her methods of working through and handling feeling overwhelmed.

When the bad kids see Nara and Tracker again in Fallinel, she introduces them all to Nara. “Ah,” Nara says as she and Adaine are introduced, and Adaine tenses for oracle, the daughter who killed Angwyn Abernant, the oracle who ran away, but what she’s met with was: “Tracker’s little sister.”

Adaine never tells Tracker how much it means. She loves Aelwyn, and Aelwyn loves her, but that love is something that has been asked for by both parties. Adaine never realized before that she shouldn't have to ask. 

[tu-ut]

not my usual themes, but: a star wars au where the whole "overthrow the galaxy in a sham war" plot gets so derailed it's basically thrown out the window

the Hutts go after the Jedi temple for breaking contract. what contract? slave breeding rights, of course!

so in the outer rim when you buy/otherwise obtain a slave from its former owner, you specify in the contract (oral or written) that the rights to any offspring are transferred to the new Master. (selling slaves is good money one-time, making new slaves is just a solid long-term business plan obviously). and because the jedi didn't remove Anakin's bomb/tracker chip thing iirc*, with Anakin becoming a very famous general across the galaxy, of course Watto has reactivated and is checking up on the chip, and who's to say with the crazy tech it can't track things like bodily functions/intercourse?

It's basic Slavery 101 to the Outer Rim, everyone knows this is just how it's done, so Anakin was under the impression that obviously his new masters knew this, only an idiot wouldn't, no one would be dumb enough to leave that part out of the barter.

He did not realize this was Not A Thing in the Core.

(and also no, he doesn't *really* understand the Jedi don't consider him their slave after taking him from Tatooine. his new Masters are multiple - though Obi Wan is his general overseer. they're more lenient and don't beat him, but they're still Masters he is subservient to who control what he does and where he goes. Hell, he still has his chip in!)

So now the Jedi Order is engaged in a legal battle over if Anakin can have sex or not with his wife (And an internal battle because WHEN THE FORCE DID THE CHOSEN ONE GET A WIFE???). Padme is decidedly Not Happy about this whatsoever. she's not mad at Anakin (who's just as surprised and probably even more baffled at the situation than her for the proceeding reasons), but infuriated at the slave chip still inside him that the Jedi, out of seeming negligence, haven't removed his detonator, and also just like. the whole slave & slave chip Thing™ in general.

*apparently in an EU novel it's specified that Qui Gon had Watto deactivate it but it wouldn't be surgically removed until "a later date". he was a busy guy and for all the rest of the Jedi knew, Anakin was just a random force-sensitive kid he picked up somewhere, he might not have relayed the message before he got offed. with the sith coming back and the chip disabled, I can see him putting it pretty low in his priorities at that time.

[helpinghanikan]

There for you

Boba-Fett x reader

Sum: Your time spent under the Daimyo’s protection had made you cocky. Most of the planet knew you were Boba-Fett’s, what they didn’t know was that it came with vows and a ring. It’s better to let the people assume you were just a plaything the Daimyo liked to keep around. Supposedly it made you safer, obviously that didn’t work as well as Boba thought.

Tatooine has a reputation for being unforgiving at night. Not just from the pirates, smugglers, and all other types of shady characters. The weather would also be hard on any unprepared traveler. Harsh winds and low temperatures can turn even the most seasoned tracker around.

Your journey wasn’t supposed to take that long. You knew that path to the closest village and had crossed it many times. That didn’t stop you from being a target. By the time you realized the speeders were trained straight for you, it was already too late.

“Is this the right one?” A voiced asked, your captor faceless with the bag over your head.

“She matches the picture. Easier to grab than the sniper, definitely.” Another voice replied. This one seemingly female in it’s pitch. There’s a foot placed on your shoulder, pushing you down until your laying on your side. “Fett only has two. Let’s hope we didn’t grab his favorite.”

Your time spent under the Daimyo’s protection had made you cocky. Most of the planet knew you were Boba-Fett’s, what they didn’t know was that it came with vows and a ring. It’s better to let the people assume you were just a plaything the Daimyo liked to keep around. Supposedly it made you safer, obviously that didn’t work as well as Boba thought.

The male captor starts speaking again: “Takes us over past the ridge. Hide the ship while we work.”

“It’s not gonna be hidden for long once her master starts searching the dessert.” Another male voice said from further away. He was likely the pilot.

“We don’t need long.” The first male voice said. “Take her out, take the pics, dump the body. Done and done.”

Now you started screaming.

Smaller gangs and groups are always scrambling for what little foothold could be found. One way to show you mean business is through the girls and guys that tend to be on the arms of these groups. Capturing them, killing them, and then sending the pictures to the rival gang.

Usually these are side pieces or mistresses that aren’t hard to replace. Never spouses or mates that could cause harsh retaliation. When Jabba was still in control a few gangs had tried this with one or two of his slaves. They were quickly removed due to their annoyance, not for the attack on those women.

The boot on your shoulder moves to your head. Pressing down hard until you could feel the cool of the ship floor through the bag.

“Stop. Screaming.” She says, turning her foot to emphasize her point.

Both Fennec and Boba had offered to either get someone to make the run for you. But this village still needed a personal touch to keep the relationship between them and Mos Espa strong. Seeing the arm candy to the Daimyo coming up with the promised credits was one way to do it.

It wouldn’t take long for this ship to make it past the ridge. Long enough for you to think about how Boba would react when he got those pictures. That had you screaming all over again.

“I. SAID. STOP!” The female voice said again, a kick to your stomach.

You’re still recovering from the impact when the entire ship shakes. Metal and machinery rattles your entire world. Sending your head into jelly from being so close to the ground as it happens.

“Are you serious?!” The first male voice yells.

“Who is it? What is it?” Asked the female.

“If I knew I’d be firing back at it!” Screams the pilot. The ship rattles once more. “Kriff! Somethings’ hit the roof. Somethings on the roof!”

It’s suddenly much hotter inside the bag than it was just a seconds ago. Although the world is dark you can see the bright orange dot penetrating the ceiling. It traces into a circle, leaving behind a trail that lands with an outrageous THUD!

Panic erupts throughout the ship. You are only involved when the hood is ripped from your head. Leaving you staring straight at Fennec’s helmet.

“Just run, okay?” She says, smacking the wall just behind you. “Run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Fennec cuts free your ankles and off you go. Sprinting into the endless sand and countless stars. Not having a direction in mind, only away.

Wind was kicking up sand, making you blind and keeping your path a mystery. You didn’t make it very far. Only about three hundred feet before running into someone solid as a tree and just as strong.

“Hold tight,” Boba says, leaning down just enough to grab the back of your thighs.

You don’t have time to thank you. As the ground is already disappearing from beneath your feet.

Boba Fett’s jetpack wasn’t made for someone without armor. Meant to be used while wearing full garb: without a helmet the already whipping sand was that much harsher. Digging into your skin and hurting your eyes. The pack was attached to Boba, making his arms and your grip the only thing keeping you from falling and, at best, breaking your legs.

You only fly for a few minutes before little lights dance at the corner of your eye. Down below the bright colors of Mod bikes were waiting down below.

“We’re landing, brace yourself.” Boba says in an attempt to give comfort.

Three of the Mods gang were waiting when you touch down. While they gave you a glance, one even allowing a smile, they were too focused on Boba to greet you properly. You should be used to this treatment by now, they really only cared about the big man with the gun. Not on his wife standing off to the side.

“Take her home,” Boba ordered, an arm still around you. “Do not leave her side until you reach the palace. Understood?”

“You got it; we’ll keep her safe.” One of the members said. The one who had actually acknowledged you.

Boba turned towards you. “This won’t take long. I promise.”

It’s hard to feel the warmth and affection when he’s all dolled up in green and Beskar. Inside the armor he’s the Mos Espa protector, former bounty hunter, and destroyer of enemies. Obvious this made him one of the hottest things walking, but not the kind you run to to feel better about your situation.

That is the only reason you could give for letting him go. His helmet pressing his forehead against yours for a second before letting you go. He’s gone from sight by the time you straddled one of the bikes.

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

Fett had liked having his elegance and space, it would seem. It took a few weeks before Boba was comfortable with bringing his guard down within the walls. It took some weeks to get that massive slug bed out and replace it with a proper mattress. Boba Had conceded on a large bed after his bacta tank was no longer needed.

The stone floor made it hard to near impossible to be sneaky. There would always be an echo from moving around. Whether wearing heels, boots, or in bare feet. This made it easy to hear Boba arrive from the balcony.

There’s no point in turning around to greet him. He would be able to see you through the arch way. He’d know you were waiting; he also knew you were wearing his robe.

Of course you had your own. But after everything it helped to have a little bit of him hanging off of your shoulders. It kept away the chill from your naked body underneath. Even dressing felt like too much after the quick shower.

It didn’t take long for Boba to remove his armor and weapons. Droids scurried around him to get everything off and put away correctly.

“Have you eaten?” Boba asks from the doorway.

You shook your head. “I honestly forgot. No point in waking up the kitchen because I was so late for dinner.”

“That’s what I’m paying them for.” Boba replies, disappearing for a second.

From the balcony you could see most of Mos Espa. At this time of night most of the lights were starting to turn off. Being replaced by the streetlights and headlights from bikes moving through the alleyways.

Past the city the desert stretched forever. Every now and then there was a little flicker from somewhere outside of the walls. Although they were mostly white, much like the stars, a few blinked red. Even from here you knew it was blaster fir. Watching them for too long almost had you hearing them being fired.

“I was feeling bantha tonight.” Boba says, stepping up to your side. “I made sure the steaks will be medium rare.”

“The only kind that’s allowed.” You replied, still staring out towards the blinking red.

Boba hesitates before placing a hand on your back. When he does you immediately lean against him. Giving the needed permission for Boba to pull you closer against his chest. Embracing on the balcony for anyone still awake to see and be jealous of.

After a moment Boba breaks the silence by asking; “Are you hurt?”

“Not enough to matter. Just a few bruises, especially on my ego.” You reply, turning your head up to look at him. “Are they dead?”

Boba has made a habit of always telling the truth. But only if you specifically asked. Had you just let the moment last, and never brought your captors up again, then he would have taken care of them without a moments hesitation.

“Not yet,” Boba said, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “I had Fennec keep the three alive. They hurt you, insulted my position, and embarrassed Fennec by taking you so brazenly. An example needs to be made, otherwise others may try this again.”

He speaks as if he were on his throne. Regarding a room full of citizens and opportunists alike. With a tone that kept everyone’s attention.

He had been sitting on that throne when you left. Stopping by to lean down and whisper that you were leaving. He had taken your hand and offered an escort, but his focus stayed on the farmer in near tears in front of him.

You can’t fault Boba for focusing on those in need over you. Because of this you didn’t insist on getting a kiss or feel the gentle touch of his helm against your forehead.

You remember this now. Smiling sweetly in a way you hadn’t done the entire night.

“I feel like tonight was a good reminder that I need a kiss goodbye, my dear.” You say, looking at his lips.

“My mistake.” Boba replies, going in for a kiss to make up for the one he had failed to give earlier.

The kiss starting off chaste and sweet. Boba waiting a second to ensure you were alright before going further. His hands sliding up your back, splaying his fingers over as much space as possible.

He moans when you step to closer. As if he were pleasantly surprised that you had chosen to only wear his robe this night. Not that he could say much else. Only wearing his short after having his armor and weapons removed. He was too focused on getting to you than whether or not he should put on some new clothes.

“Will you have me?” He asks between kisses.

“Yes, Boba, Yes.” You reassure. Biting at his lip to get his attention entirely. “Next time I get tied up; I want it to be by you. Only you.”

That did it. Just like before Boba lifted the back of your thighs. Setting you on the balcony’s edge, holding your hips hard to ensure that you felt as safe as possible. Or to distract you while he opens up the robe, bracing your chest against his to ensure that your mouths left for the least amount of time as possible.

“I won’t let you be hurt; I swear on my life, on my armor, on everything. I’m going to kill them.” Boba says, more for himself than you.

“Still alive, are they? I assumed they’re in the dungeons then?” You say, moving your arms for the robe to fall further open. Nothing was hidden now. And it was evident on Boba’s face as he stared at the body he’s seen a hundred times.

Boba nods when he realizes that you had asked a question.

“Then I want them to hear us.” You challenge. “Make them know that they failed. That I’m alive and that my screams don’t just come from fear.”

Boba doesn’t say anything, but you can see the change happen. His eyes focusing on yours for the briefest of seconds. Not that it mattered whether you knew his next actions or not, you were already being pulled forward, until your butt say on the ledges very edge. And Boba went to his knees before you.

Few in the galaxy had the privilege of experiencing both sides of Boba Fett. To know the difference between being fucked by Boba and making love with him.

He usually fucks when the day is long and there is nothing to say. The silence will be painful before he reaches your shared chambers. When you’re following right behind he’ll quickly take hold of your wrist, pulling you into the room as if you may escape if he’s not careful. If you’re already in the room he’ll be against your back without bothering to say hello.

His kisses are biting, and hands are rough on your skin. There won’t be enough time to get him armor off. Barely enough time to remove his gloves before he’s finding the opening in your clothes. Say nothing and every bit of his armor and weapons will be left on. The harsh material of his gloves pressing against your neck to keep you in place.

Making love is much more common. He’ll look at you with a slight tilt to his head. As if he couldn’t believe that this beautiful woman was his to have and to hold. He’ll verbally say this too, but only when he knows no one else can hear.

Everything will already be off when he comes to you. His hands are softer, they travel further, and take their time in mapping out the body he already knows.

Right here and now it’s somewhere in between. He bites the inside of your thighs but is gentle in guiding your leg. Resting it over his shoulder to stay out of the way as he travels forward. Nipping and biting while you grabbed onto the balcony for dear life.

“Oh, please.” You gasped out when his lips met your lower ones.

Starting off with soft, wet, bites between your lips. His mouth is so hot it boils your bloods. His hands squeezing the inside of your thighs send the entire world into overdrive. Your system working to make sure your body doesn’t shut down from all the licks, kisses, and touches that Boba wrecked through your body.

His tongue finally joins in and the teasing is over. He pushes up until you’re flat onto your back. The thick balcony edge able to cover your entire back. Making the only thing hanging off the edge.

He rumbles into your skin. Tip of his tongue exploring your entrance as if he were nervous to plunge in completely.

When he finally penetrates your sounds come out sharp. Gasping out into the open air, not caring if anyone down below stopped to hear. Boba moaning at the sounds you made. Sliding his hands up slowly in appreciation.

He builds your orgasm slowly. Wanting more so to taste, to feel, and to know this woman he was worshiping. In doing that he worry about going faster to reach the end. He didn’t want to.

Thick electricity and warmth travels through your body. Growing from your pelvis to your legs and chest. Pressing against your breasts, making your nipples sensitive to the light touch of the soft robe.

You don’t realize the orgasm has reached it peak until your eyes aren’t able to focus. Your thighs closing around Boba’s head without your permission. He grunts at the squeeze but doesn’t stop. If anything he starts to go faster, lick deeper, and downright bite softly at your lips until he gets his goal of your voice.

And voice you did. Head thrown back, crying out to Mas Espa. What you were saying didn’t make much sense. You were calling out Boba’s name, thanking him, begging for more, and pleading with him not to stop.

You wouldn’t have known it at the time, but three passersby had stopped just below your balcony. Young people heading home after a late-night shift. Stopping when hearing the sounds of a loud woman. Taking a moment or two to realize they were shouts of pleasure rather than distress.

“Good for her,” One of the passersby had said. Continuing on her way, now more excited than ever to make it back to her own husband.

Boba stays close as your orgasm finally dies down. Slotting firmly between your thighs, gently stroking the outside of your thighs. Only reaching further up when you finally found the strength to bring your head up.

“Do you feel any better?” Boba asks, reaching out to help pull you up into a sitting position.

He’s so sweet when he allows the concern to reach his face. It reminds you of why you took the risk of becoming more than just a lover to Boba Fett. He had looked at you with such genuine emotions that it was intoxicating. And you were drunk on him.

“Yes, my love, so much better.” You sigh, reaching out for his head. Pulling him in to press your foreheads together. “Now let me do the same for you.”

He doesn’t take advantage of your want to please like he usually would. In the large bed he lays you down gently. Finally taking away the robe and dragging his lips and his hands over every piece of you that he was allowed.

Although it was only the other that you were taken by him, it felt like an eternity. His cock slid through your folds once, twice, before finding your entrance. Pressing in with gentle pressure that through your head back and opens your legs for whatever Boba could dream of doing.

“Love you, love you so much.” Boba whispers in your ear.

You don’t need to reply, he already knows. Instead you place an arm around his neck. Keeping him close as his thick cock splits you open. He rubs your insides raw with powerful thrusts that jiggles your entire body. Keeping a tempo that reaches the deepest part of your body.

Sex with Boba wasn’t always this good. Your first time was fast, clumsy, and ended with dissatisfaction on your end. Something that Boba rectified when he realized, but it felt more like a responsibility rather than part of the fun.

It took time to figure eachother out this well. Your wedding night Boba had asked you to explain what you liked, what you wanted, and what he could do. The first hour coming off like a business meeting you had to attend before being allowed to leave for the weekend.

“Ready?” Boba asks with a husky voice.

“Yes, please.” You reply, body already singing with want for another orgasm.

He leans back from you. The room now freezing without his body to lay against. Still you kept your hands on his wrists, keeping contact as he takes hold of your hips. Pushing you up and down the bed to slam into his hips with a vigor that couldn’t be made from the previous position.

You made a move to massage your own clit, but Boba practically growled. Using his own hand to do the job for you. Although he moved sloppily, with barely a sense of rhythm. But that almost made it better.

Boba has a powerful body. And he uses it to destroy you in a way that can’t be replicated anytime soon. Mixture of the rapid penetration and the massaging of your clit brought that electric warmth traveling through your body once more.

This time you were fully aware of it. Arching your back as if this would make it travel faster, reach your goal at the same time that Boba found his.

Although this didn’t happen it was close enough. Your clenching pussy from another orgasm was just enough for Boba to reach his own edge. Sending him hunching over your body as he orgasmed. Slowly pumping into you as his orgasm rolls through him.

He speaks so softly, so deeply, that you didn’t understand all that he was saying. Although you caught the tail end of terms of endearment and your own name. That was really all you needed to know.

“Come here,” You demand of him when he rolls off.

He does as you ask. Rolling over to make room for you to slide into his arms. Your head tucked under his chin. Sweat and cum staining the sheets that would need to be cleaned later. In a few hours the feeling of it between your thighs would become annoying, but that was for later.

In only a few moments Boba kisses your hairline and says; “I want you in armor.”

“What?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him properly.

He’s looking over you the same way he does when planning. “You need better protection than I can provide. You need armor.”

It’s almost a show how he throws the blanket off of himself. Getting out of the bed and taking his robe with him. Leaving you naked in the bed, a little confused but also excited.

-----

It took a week for your armor to be ordered and finished. Boba spared no expense on materials and design. Getting his new buddy Din Djarin involved when Din started asking questions about your husband’s sudden need of beskar.

Your former captors were kept alive during that week. Fennec made it a point to personally stop by everyday to deliver their food and water. She never said anything, just made sure they knew their deaths would come eventually.

That day came in the late hours of the day. Your captors dragged from their cell by Fennec and marched into the throne room. Standing side by side in chains before the Daimyo.

With Fennec taking her place on Boba’s right, you stood on his left. Staying quiet behind your new helmet of refined beskar. The breast plate, shoulder pads, and leg protection hid your identity pretty well. Especially since you hadn’t gotten the chance to paint and personalize it in your own style yet.

“My lord, we didn’t mean-.” One of your captors started but was quickly silenced by Boba’s raised hand.

“Don’t insult me further by lying.” He said. “You three have already done that enough. Not just to me, but to my right hand, and to my wife.”

This was the moment you chose to remove your helmet. It was a dramatic moment to see your captors become the ones with fear in their eyes. When they came in they just assumed you were some random mercenary, not their victim.

“They made me!” The female captor shouted. “Please, I didn’t want to do it!”

“Oh, shut up. It was her Kriffing plan!” Shouted the captor in the middle. He had been the pilot.

The two started to argue with raised voices and begging pleas. Only one of the captors stayed quiet. His eyes downcast and body lax. A man who had accepted his fate.

Fennec stops the argument with a single shot at their feet.

“Watch the fire to the ground,” Boba told Fennec. “I don’t want you hitting him by mistake.”

“My apologize,” Fennec says, smiling at her prey.

Down, below the captors feet, Boba rancor waited. He didn’t get his breakfast this morning, and it was only now that he decided to whine about it.

“Please,” The captor, the pilot, whispered towards you. “I’m sorry.”

“Three insults, three prisoners, three punishments.” Boba says, calling their attention to him although he was talking to you and Fennec. “Only fair that we each get to pick a fate.”

You nodded in agreement, but it was still hard to find your voice in this moment.

Boba turns to Fennec first: “What would you-.”

He doesn’t get to finish. Fennec leaning forward and pressing down the throne’s switch. Instantly the middle captive, the pilot, dropped from this world. His screams echoed through the halls in a way that hadn’t happened since the age of Jabba the Hutt.

You don’t have to look over to know that Boba’s pet finally got his breakfast. A loud crunch and the silencing of screams confirmed that.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Boba told Fennec.

“I’m sorry, I got excited.” Fennec explained.

At this point the female captor was sobbing. Begging for her life and screaming at her co-conspirator for getting them into this mess.

 She only stops when a blast fire from Boba’s hand. A single shot between her eyes that threw her body backwards. Slamming onto the floor in a head the shape of a corpse. Her tears were still wet when she died.

You couldn’t look away from her body. Staring at was once the greatest threat to your life, now gone from this world thanks to your husband. The name that now reached out for your hand and took it so gently you were surprised.

“You don’t have choose,” He says, pulling you closer to whisper properly. “You don’t have to do anything. Ever.”

The last captor still stands without looking at anything. He moves slowly to stand over the trap door. Although his slow movements don’t keep Fennec from drawing her weapon.

He now looks up at you. Knowing what you wanted to do, and practically begging you to do it.

It’s quiet in the throne room. Boba not wanting to push you, Fennec too curious to say anything, and the guests far too scared to make a single noise. Only the moving of the rancor down below kept the world moving.

Without thinking, or even trully deciding, you pressed down on the trap door. Leaning across Boba’s lap to do so. Looking away as your last captor drops through the door and into the hands of a beloved pet.

It was only then did the throne room make noise. Someone cheering and another joining in started the party that you weren’t expecting to happen. Fennec looked over to Boba, waiting to be told to shut it down.

“Let them enjoy,” Boba says, “Join them if you’d like.”

Fennec does just that. Stepping down where one of the twi’lek beauties were waiting for her.

You stay close to Boba, maneuvering to sit on his lap. Your helmet being placed back on to rest against his shoulder. His arms pulling you close with a hand on your shoulder and another on your knees.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers. Although it wasn’t his fault it’s nice that he still wanted to make it better. In everyway he can.

[fallencrowns]

@legends-and-savages | sc. from the interest tracker

Shit, shit, shit. This was not good. The warehouse where she and the others of her group often met had been raided and they had had to flee. Keeping her hood up, with no time to prepare other means to hide herself, Ava had taken off as soon as everyone else had SCATTERED. Go separate directions, they couldn't all be tracked at once. Her feet pounded against the pavement, glancing over her shoulder and ducking into any alleyway she could in order to HIDE herself further. All she could hope for the others was that they weren't shooting to KILL and just capture. At least then there would be just a chance of breaking them out.

It had only been a matter of time being their hideout was tracked down with their supposed TERRORIST activities or so the government and the media would like to call it. Obviously, Ava had different feelings about the whole matter. They had their reasons for their actions, fighting back against a government that would want them to register their powers or, even worse, REMOVE them entirely. It all depended on which member of government was asked on what should be done with those with abilities.

With mutants and the like. The ones that weren't NORMAL.

Just as she exited another alleyway, her feet skidded to a stop as she found someone else just on the other end. Her chest heaved with deep pants, trying to catch her breath. Silver hair, where had he even come from? Not one of her crew, that much was for sure but a stranger smack dab in the middle of a raid? Ava didn't trust it for one second.

But her alias, Wildfire, didn't have a known face. Maybe she could get away with lies. Slowly, she raised her hands, trying to appear harmless and doing her best to show PANIC on her face. ❝ I was just...just walking and then there was—— there was police and- and, I don't know. And mutants running all over. I just had to get out of there. ❞ Do her best to appear just like a startled civilian, someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was intentionally stumbling over her worse, trying her best though manipulation had never been a great skill of hers.

[whumpfessional]

Onboarding

This is for all of you lovely folks who have encouraged me to continue to write. I finally got this sticky piece out of the way and now I can continue with the next part of this story.

Continued from here (which is technically the first part of the story I posted). The start of Circe's story can be found in my masterpost.

CW: slavery mention/reference, minor whump reference, branding reference, IV mention, minor surgery reference (to remove a tracker), med bay stuff

It was quiet when she awoke. Florescent lights above crackled slightly as she lifted herself into a seat position, noting the IV drip connected to her arm. There was a slight beeping from the monitor beside her. The girl swung her legs over to the side of the bed and moved to stand up. 

“I’d take it easy if I was you,” a voice came from behind her and she turned to see who she assumed was Doc. They were a tall human with cool dark skin and a shaved head. They approached, staring down at their Omnitool. 

“You’ve been through a lot but we were able to stabilize you without issue. I hope you don’t mind, but the captain recommended that we remove this.” They dropped a small thin device, no longer than a cm into her hand. “This is the tracker that is placed in most Batarian slaves who go off planet. It was in your neck.”

The girl reached up cautiously, feeling the bandage placed over the back of her neck, near her spine. She nodded, holding her hand there. 

“I’m going to let the captain know you are awake. Just stay here.” They turned and walked out, the doors closing shut behind them. 

She paused for a second before slowly getting to her feet, using the IV stand to support her. It was a medical bay, obviously enough. But there weren’t any logos or icons that could give her an idea of who’s ship she was on. 

She was going to open one of the cupboards when the door slid open and she twisted around, her heart rate leaping.

“Ahh, there you are! Look at you, on your feet already!” Hef entered into the room, with Doc following behind them. “Come on, have a seat. We need to talk about a couple things.” Hef sat herself down on the end of the bed while Doc went to the other end of the room and seemed to be searching for something. 

The girl was entranced. Hef was so loud, there was so much life. She took up space as she moved through the room, bumping a table aside with her hip as she scooched in. And she was human. So human. 

“Now,” Hef started when the girl came to stand near her, a calculated arm's distance away, “we don’t have to figure out your options right away. You can take some time before you figure out what you want to do. The most important thing is that you are free. You don’t belong to anyone. You don’t have to do what anyone says. Do you understand?”

The girl stood silently, staring blankly at Hef. 

Hef gave a huff before reaching down and pulling a black half glove off of her left hand. There, the girl could see a familiar mass of scar tissue and a tattoo that was identical to her own, a gear with an eye in the middle. The girl’s eyes went wide and she turned back to look at Hef.

The realization hit her like an air shuttle. Her mouth fell open as she stared at it, her brain working through its calculations. 

“-but... h-how?” The girl managed to stutter, still staring at the hand. Hef pulled the glove back on. Even covered, the girl felt as if she could feel the eye staring back at her.

“Luck, mostly.” Hef said, with a shrug, “Same as you. Cerberus ship attacked the Batarian vessel I was on, though they didn’t just happen upon us, like we did with you. After setting us free, the crew gave us the option to stay and join up. I wasn’t going to say no.”

Circe began nodding again, more as a way of indicating to Hef that she was listening, rather than to say that she understood the words being said.

“I know what I’m talking about. This isn’t any bullshit. You are free now. And you will be safe here for as long as you need. Do you understand?” Hef continued. 

The girl nodded again, a pressure growing in her chest. “Yes.” She whispered faintly. The ground swam slightly beneath her as her breath lightened.

This was real. This was real. She was here right now. The pain in her body meant she was here right now. Excitement and anxiety mixed together in her stomach, an acidic heat she couldn’t pull one separate from another. 

A smile broke across Hef’s face. “Good. You seem to be able to speak now so that helps things. Do you have a name?” 

The girl shook her head then remembered herself. “No, not really”, she said in a quiet voice, “I’m just Girl”. The harsh Batarian tones seemed out of place in the quiet med bay.

Hef grimaced at the sound, snarl curling instinctively. “Well, we can fix that too. Come on, let’s get you settled” She stood up. On cue, Doc scuffed over and removed the IV, placing a blue bandaid over the injection site. They gave her a slight smile as well. 

Hef and the girl continued down the corridor.

The girl found herself burdened with a blanket, pillow, and several personal items pilfered from a communal storage space, 

“Anyways,” Hef continued to explain the layout of this ship as she had through the tour. Shell shocked, not much of the information given had stuck in her brain. “This is the mess. There’s coffee and tea always going and you can help yourself to snacks. We have a rotation for cooking and cleaning up after it, do you know how to cook?”

Hef’s head turned around, locking eye contact with the girl. She quickly ducked her head down and gave a noncommittal shrug. Cooking was far from one of her jobs but it couldn’t be that hard.

Not if it meant they would let her stay.

The door hissed open as they approached and they entered the room. Clamorous voices shocked the girl and her eyes flicked to the top of her lowered gaze, catching four figures around the table, animatedly shouting. 

“-can’t fucking believe I missed all the action-“

“If Doc wasn’t so good, you would be dead. So maybe chill out a bit.”

“It wasn’t that ba- d.”

Conversation spluttered as four sets of eyes fell on her. The girl stared down at her feet, willing the metal to swallow her whole. 

“Kid, this is some of my crew.” Hef gestured to the table and the girl forced her eyes up to follow the movement.  

“Montoya.” A bronze skinned human stared back, thick black hair tied back behind their neck. No visible weapons that the girl could clock. 

“Manny.” Gun. Dark brown skin, dreads pulled up in a large bun. There was a wide clear bandage wrapped around an injury his upper arm. 

“Emily.” Gun. Definitely something in her boot. Maybe something on the other hip. Blonde, tanned human woman with a nasty looking black eye starting to form. 

“Pilar.” The girl’s jaw slackened slightly at the sight of her pearlescent white hair, likely augmented somehow. The young Asian woman was the only one of the four to smile back immediately, giving a little wave. 

“Crew, this is-“ Hef stumbled for a moment, looking back down to the lank haired huddled form next to her. “Uh, this is the kid. Introduce yourselves. Behave.”

An order. The girl straightened up, heart racing to clog her throat. Had she been doing something wrong already? She had probably been staring,  just taking in the humans sitting around the table. 

The one called Montoya stared at her curiously, peering over top of a pair of tinted glasses. Pilar broke the silence, catching the girl’s eyes looking over her hair. 

“Hey kid, nice to meet you! I’m Pilar. I work with Doc.” She gave a genuine grin, so kind it hit like a punch. Pilar raised her eyebrows slightly to Emily, who got the message. 

“Hey, yeah. I’m Emily.” The blonde gave a smile too, thought it didn’t take up her whole face.  “Hef said that you were bunking with me and Pilar.” It was hard for the girl to not let her eyes flicker down to the holster at her side. 

The girl found herself nodding slightly, though she held tighter and tighter to the pillow and blankets in her arms. This was the most well armed group of humans she had seen in her life. And they were all clearly fighters. 

Emily jammed an elbow into the man sitting beside her. “Ow,” he moaned, rubbing his arm. “Anyways,” Manny gave a small wave, “same deal. I’m Manny. I’m a security officer, like Emily. And you are lucky you don’t have to share with me, Montoya and those other fucks. Pee-ew, it gets bad.” He let out a loud bark of a laugh. The only reaction from the others was eyerolling. 

Emily interrupted — “At least your room has six bunks for the four of you!” 

“Yours has four for three people, that’s like basically the same ratio!” Manny shot back, waving his arm across the table. 

The dark haired person cleared their throat slightly. “And moving on from that, as you may have guessed, I’m Montoya.” They cracked a slightly smile. The emotion coming off of them wasn’t as forceful as the others and the girl found herself relaxing slightly. “I’m our weapons specialist. I also deal with a lot of our tech upgrades, hacking, et cétéra.” 

Emily and Manny were still talking over each other, slowly getting louder. Pilar kept trying to make eye contact with her. The girl swayed slightly, fatigue and symptoms of exhausted adrenaline stores began to weigh heavily in the face of all this new input. 

Hef flashed her a glance before clearing her throat. “All right that’s it for now. I’m gonna get the kid settled. Y’all better not think you can slack off today just because you killed some Batarian scum.” She waved off a grumble of complaints as she guided the kid out of the room. 

The girl’s ears pricked for whispers as Hef led her out of the mess, not bothering to wave shut the door behind them. 

“So that’s her, eh?”

“Huh.”

“Fuck. Wish I’d got more of them.”

“You almost DIED-“

It wasn’t a large ship and they only took one turn left before Hef waved open a door, gesturing inside. 

The room was a narrow berth with four narrow bunks built out from the walls. Storage was beneath the cots. It looked like the two spare beds had been used as extra storage but the pile of clothes and stack of books had been all transférés to the left side one, leaving the bed closest to the door empty. 

A warm hand landed heavily on the girl’s shoulder and she violently flinched, hands reaching up clenched into fists. The pillow and blanket tumbled to the ground.

“Woah, hey.” Hef took a step back with her arms bent up in the air, eyebrows raised in shock. “It’s all good, kid.”

The girl looked at her own hands with fear before forcing them back down to her sides. She made to bend down to pick up the dropped supplies but Hef got there first, scooping them up to carry them to the spare bed. 

“It’s all good.” Hef repeated, smoothing down the mattress cover. “It’s been a hell of a day. Let’s save the meeting of the rest of the crew for later.” 

The muscular woman gave the bed a pat before backing up out the door past the girl, careful to leave sufficient room around her. “You get some rest. We can talk more later. Just get someone to help you come find me when you are up, alright?”

The girl nodded and inched backwards into the room, letting Hef fill the doorway. Her hand brushed over the blanket, eyes ducking around the room to avoid staring back at the warm ones looking down at her.

“Uh, okay. Yeah.” Hef tapped against the door frame. She opened her mouth to say something but it was eaten by the silence of the room. Instead, she just knocked a couple more times and turned to leave. “Rest up, kid.”

Hef left the door open out into the hallway. Footstep echoes grew quiet as she marched back the way they had come from. Sixty seconds. The girl stood frozen, counting in her head. 

Sixty more, for safety. 

Maybe one more round. Just to make sure. 

When it finally felt like she was alone, the girl stepped towards the door, daring to peek out into the hallway. 

Safe. For now. The girl waved the door shut, figuring the warning the opening hiss would give her would have to be enough if she had to run. Or hide. Or fight. 

The mattress sunk under her weight as she kicked off the slides Doc had given her and swung her legs up. It was forbiddenly comfortable, soft as a stolen moment of quiet. 

Fear froze her in place; every clank was the sound of the Batarian vessel latching on. Bootsteps were Balak approaching the door, ready to rip it from its frame. 

Exhaustion took her finally, the sweet darkness of a tired mind. The girl surrendered easily to it. If she died, she died. But for now, she lived. 

[crazylilad]

Red- Chapter 17

AN: Just an Fyi, this is a TWD fanfiction, meaning there are a lot of TWs, including loads of violence (of all kinds)

No smut!

Please make sure to reblog, like, or whatever you wanna do! That helps me want to continue writing these kinds of stories and to figure out what people want

SUMMARY

I ran through the woods, Matthew right behind me. 

My breaths came in harsh and my legs were screaming in protest. Just a bit farther. I promised myself. 

Matthew stumbled out of the underbrush and doubled over, his cheeks red and mouth open as he huffed for a breath. I moved his arm around my shoulder and kept going. 

I flinched as a bullet ricocheted off a tree to my left. It was too close. They were too close. 

But this was only the start 

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Chapter 17

Rossary

I was always careful when walking down the dark stairs of the guard towers, not wanting to trip and fall because I wasn’t able to see well. Now, I flew down them, tripping over my own feet so I could get outside to Matthew. 

I didn’t even have to look to know that when Rick let out a laugh it was because Michonne, Matthew, and the Dixon brothers were back. Even though they were all back, I couldn’t think about anyone other than Matthew. I still didn’t know why he was gone, my thoughts too jumbled for me to come to a conclusion on my own. 

“Ross!” Rick’s voice echoed in the guard tower, his boots clacking on the cement stairs. He sounded like a weight was just lifted off his shoulders and I couldn’t blame him. 

I opened the door and sprinted down the gravel in the field. 

Matthew smiled when he saw me. I jumped on him, pulling him in a tight hug. He groaned but hugged me back. I didn’t realize how badly I was shaking until now.

“I’m okay,” he whispered in a tight voice. “I’m okay.” I didn’t believe him.

After a minute I pulled back and gave his forehead a kiss. Matthew laughed, his eyes rolling. 

“Okay mom.” he grumbled. 

I pulled back.

My eyes widened when I saw he had a black eye. 

“What the hell did you do this time!” I yelled at him. 

He laughed and shook his head. His tone grew bitter. “Courtesy of Merle. I was following them after seeing he had Michonne and he knocked me out.” he puffed up his chest, a cheesy smile on his face. “I fought back, obviously, and now I had a damn headache and a black eye to tell the tale.”

Michonne chuckled. “I’m sure everyone will know how much of a hero you are.” 

Matthew grinned over to the swordswoman, eyes shining bright. “They already know don’t worry.”

My mouth was open like a fish for water. I searched for words to say, wondering how my best friend could be so carefree. I shook my head and looked around to see only Michonne standing next to us.

I let go of my tight grip on Matthew’s forearms and pulled her in a hug. She didn’t hesitate to hug me back. 

“Are you good?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” she said. Her shoulders sagged a bit. It seemed she needed a hug just as much as I did. “Daryl is still out there looking for Merle.” she informed me.

I nodded my head. “I’ll go help him.” 

I touched my weapons and gave Matthew another hug. With the Governor as big of a threat and Merle being gone, I didn’t want to leave Daryl out there alone.

Michonne shook her head. “He said not to.” 

I paused. It was only midday and Daryl was a tracker. It wouldn’t be gone until he was back. Besides, if he was saying not to go help him, then I would give him a couple hours at the most before I went looking for him. 

I nodded. “Okay, then let's get Hershel to check you out, Matty.” I said.

Michonne and I walked on separate sides of Matthew. We were both ready to catch him considering there was a big chance he had a concussion. He was walking oddly and occasionally stopped to regain his balance. I gritted my teeth. When I saw Merle I was going to give him a piece of his own damn medicine.

When we entered the courtyard the prison door opened. Carl ran out, a relieved smile on his face as he hugged Matthew the same way I did. I smiled softly. Matthew and Carl were self proclaimed brothers and the complete relief on Carl’s face only proved that.

“Hey buddy!” Matthew said. I watched as he hid his grimace away from the kid. Michonne stepped toward me, a smile on her face. 

My eyes traveled to the prison gate. I was hoping Daryl would show up at any minute but he didn’t. I shook the thought off. Just a few more hours then I could go find him.

“What happened to your eye?” Carl asked in a shocked voice. “Hershel needs to check you out.” Before anyone could say anything, Carl was pushing Matthew into the prison and out of sight.

I sighed. I wanted to go in and be with Matthew, but I also knew that the worry Carl would keep him hovering Matthew for a while. I smiled softly. I would check on Matthew tonight if he wasn’t sleeping.

Michonne cleared her throat. “You know Merle let me go.”

I raised a brow. “Voluntarily?” 

She nodded. “Let me go and even gave me my sword. I didn’t do anything.” 

My eyebrows furrowed. I hadn’t spoken to Merle hardly at all since this group but I did know how much everyone disliked him. I had nothing against the male aside from how harsh of a man he could be. I honestly didn’t know what to think of the older Dixon. Daryl loved him though so I could only assume there was some hope of Merle not being as ‘rough and tumble’ as he put himself out to be.

Michonne continued. “It wasn’t just him who wanted to give me up, you know.” My eyes found hers. There was an underlying question in them.

I shook my head. “You should talk to Rick about that. He can tell you why-”

“Oh I know why, and I don’t blame him. I am glad it didn’t happen though.” she said.

I smiled softly. “Me too.”

It wasn’t long until Michonne decided to go inside and see everyone else. I stayed out though. I wanted the hours to go by like minutes so I could go out and get Daryl. 

It was odd being out in the evening without him around. Usually we took watch together or came outside to eat when it felt nice. Now, there wasn’t the presence of the redneck next to me. Now, instead of the comfortable silence that would engulf us, I was left in the harsh peacefulness I had grown a hatred for.

Hours felt like centuries before finally a long enough time frame had passed that I was able to go out and look for Daryl. It was dark now, the sun hiding behind the tree line just barely giving light.

I hadn’t made it out the courtyard gate before I saw the familiar figure make his way through the field toward me. My steps quickened.

I frowned as I got closer to Daryl. He looked like he had been crying.

He stopped in front of me but didn’t look up. His hair shielded his face from me. I stood still for a while, not sure what to say or do. Neither of us liked to touch a lot and the tension rolling off him told me things didn’t go well at all.

It was such a contrast to the tough persona I was used to seeing Daryl put on. 

I chewed on my lip. It was dark now, late enough that everyone was getting ready for bed.

An odd noise left Daryl’s lips. I froze. 

Daryl’s shoulders shook and he sniffed, trying to gain control of himself. He took a step to get around me, to hide away. I had never heard him cry before and the sound made me think of a distressed animal who was caught in a trap.

Before I could think I pulled Daryl into a hug. 

He didn’t stop it, didn’t freeze or say anything. He didn’t hesitate and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His head buried itself in the crook of my neck. I tightened my grip on him.

Merle was dead. There was no other reason Daryl would have this sort of reaction and no denying the older Dixon being gone.

There was nothing I could say that would help soothe Daryl. When you lost a sibling, no matter how much they could piss you off, it hurt more than anything else. I closed my eyes and remembered the death of my older brother, how I hardly could stand being around him and yet the call that was made to tell me he was gone was the worst thing I had gone through.

I didn’t let go of Daryl even when his crying had stopped nor did he let go of me. It was dangerous out here at night without any defenses up, but neither of us cared. 

This was the hug I had been wanting. This was the hug that made me feel like I wasn’t alone, like I was worth being loved.

When Daryl and I finally let go, I noticed how tired he looked. He was looking down at his hands, shaking. I looked down, my face falling. There was blood on his hands.

I touched his hands gently. I led him into the prison, grateful everyone had gone to sleep. 

We walked into the cafeteria and, against my wants, I let go of Daryl and walked toward our makeshift sink. My hand picked up a clean rag and I dumped it in the bucket of water we used for dishes. Daryl was sitting at one of the tables when I turned around. 

I walked to him slowly and got on my knees in front of me. He didn’t say anything and I took it as consent to clean his hands.

“I killed ‘im,” Daryl muttered. I paused for a slight second before continuing. “He was-” Daryl paused and didn’t continue. I put it together though and knew Merle was a walker when Daryl had found him.

I clamped my teeth together. I felt angry and guilty that I hadn’t gone to find him sooner. It was hell putting down someone you loved.

When Daryl’s hands were clean I stood back up and rinsed the rag out.

It was for selfish reasons, but I wanted to hug him again. 

I shook the feeling off and turned back to him. “What do you want to do Daryl?” I asked softly. I would do anything he wanted to do even if it was late at night. 

He stayed quiet, still looking at the ground. I waited, looking at him in the dark cafeteria. “It don’t matter. Ya can go if you want.” he finally whispered. 

I didn’t move. He needed someone to be with him who had no hatred toward Merle. And, even though he had hurt Matthew, that someone was me. 

I chewed on my lip before deciding to move around the kitchen. It had been hours since either of us ate and knowing Daryl he wouldn’t feed himself until the next morning, maybe even later the next night. I found some silverware and grabbed the two bowls of whatever food that was made and set out for us. I gave one to Daryl and sat down next to him.

Neither of us said a word as we relished in the silence, both thinking about completely separate topics. Daryl finished his food before me but sat quietly -waiting- his hands on the table as he picked at his thumbnail. 

At some point we ended up outside in the courtyard. We sat up against a wall, out of sight from anyone who could be looking for us. 

Daryl sat down first, his legs spread out in front of him. I shifted on my feet not entirely sure on what to do. I didn’t want to sit too close in case he didn’t want to be touched. Deciding on what to do, I sat down next to him, the tip of our shoes just barely touching.

Before I could get comfortable, Daryl wrapped his arm around my form and pulled me closer to him. His grip was tight and engulfed me into his side. I rested my head on his shoulder, my hand holding his as we looked out into the dark sky.

…

Daryl

Her hug. Her damn hug. 

Rossary had stayed out all night with me while I tried to process Merle being gone. She never once pushed about what happened or tried to get me to understand how big of an ass he was. 

She hugged me. There was no hesitation to her holding me, no alternative motive, she just held me until I was ready to let go. But I didn’t want to let go. Still, when the hug had gone on for far longer than I thought Rossary would let it, I let go. 

I don’t know what I expected, but Rossary stayed with me, fed me, and comforted me when everyone else would’ve not known what to say. Merle was the biggest asshole I knew, but Rossary never once said anything bad about him.

It was only when we went back out to the courtyard did I notice Rossary’s indecision on what she should do. My ears grew hot. Finally, after a few more moments of thinking on what she should do, Rossary sat next to me, only allowing the tips of our boots to touch. It wasn’t until I made the decision to pull her closer to me that she seemed to relax. 

It was now early morning and in a few hours everyone would be getting up for the day. I didn’t sleep at all though. I couldn’t get Rossary’s touch out of my head.

I was hung up on Merle but her damn touch kept me distracted. I blushed. I wanted to hold her everyday. 

I shook it off. This was a one time opportunity. Rossary rarely hugged anyone, and when she did it was a quick hug.

I just needed to stop thinking about it.

[zenatness]

Actually, I'm not done.

Obviously I'd remove the belittling post-quest summaries and the Varric voice over cutscenes as they make the game choppy and only add meta knowledge that isn't even useful when we get them.

The companions also need an overhaul. Every last one of them.

The most memorable Dragon Age cast (to me) is the DA2 crew. There's not a single one of them that I forget if you ask me to list them. I love them, your honor. And the reason for that is because they all have flaws. They might belong to the same friend group but they're not all friends - they fight, they're mean to each other, hell Anders even approves if you hand Fenris back to slavery.

The DAV cast are so sweet and friendly and everyone likes each other and it's... bland. It's boring. They blend into one another. They need more bite. More conflict.

Emmerich is a necromancer and the way the dead are handled in Nevarra is completely alien to the rest of Thedas. And yet everyone is so accepting of him and Manfred. No! Make him work for their acceptance! And have him do some shit that's genuinely objectionable because it's the norm in Nevarra. Let him get frustrated with the others Not Getting It.

The Dalish elves shouldn't automatically go 'oh, our gods are evil, ok :)' There should be conflict! These are their gods - why aren't they flocking to them? This includes Bellaria and Davrin. As Davrin voluntarily left the Dalish he should have an easier time coming around to 'the gods are evil', especially as he can feel the blight corruption.

Davrin's pride kept him from going back to the Dalish after leaving them to find adventure. Ok. Where's that pride now? Why isn't it becoming a problem? Let him bump heads with Harding over the gods, who is the better tracker, etc.

And as far as I'm concerned, Bellaria should have been Merrill. Don't come into my house and offer me a neuroatypical Dalish elf who repairs eluvians, is driven by a desire to learn more about her people's past and regret over losing a loved one, and is on good terms with Varric and then give me a substitute.

Despite being a Tevinter native Neve is against slavery - why? Dorian was pro slavery and you could (too easily) change his mind. Why not make the slavery in Tevinter a bigger deal and her personal questline about choosing tradition or humanity? That's also where Dorian should have had his cameo, not with the first warden in a random bar.

Taash's gender identity issues are treated with such excruciatingly modern values that it feels like HR is in the room with the characters. It's addressed too quickly too. Let her be a bit of a dick for a while about feminine things, let her take a while to process things - let her meet Maevaris as part of a quest and have that "oh!" moment on her own. Then we can start to talk about it in the group.

Lucanis and Spite should be a bigger deal. This dude is possessed and we're all just fine with that? Really? Emmerich I understand, but the rest should have objections, especially Harding who is from Ferelden where such things is absolutely not ok. And if he's staying awake for ages to avoid Spite taking over, guess what? He'll be an irritable mess even without Spite in control.

Harding... Harding worked for the Inquisition for a decade. She's done this before. Let her be bossy and authoritative instead of sugary sweet. She should be the one most convinced and bumping heads with the Dalish when they have their doubts.

Also, only 30 hours in, but if the gods don't puppeteer the grey wardens - including Davrin - via the darkspawn blood then Bioware dropped the ball. Do I want that for Loghain (the only grey warden that truly matters)? No. But not doing it doesn't make any sense if they're controlling the darkspawn via the blight.

The more I play Veilguard, the more I want to edit it. Do some trimming, add some flesh and conflict to the bare-bones characters, and rearrange some elements.

Solas should have been the major threat for the first third or half of the game. It should have been about thwarting his agents and trying to find him. It would have kept the threat level low enough that it wouldn't feel weird to go and have a cup of coffee with your new teammate or lighting candles in the graveyard. Like, yes, this is urgent but we've got no leads so in the meantime we can go have a walk in the woods and search for truffles, sure.

Solas being the main threat but working behind the scenes would also mean that it would make sense that we're only a small team working on doing something about him. Nobody else believes us, etc.

Unleashing the elven gods should have been the twist that escalates the story, not the start. That's when you should start to have to gather armies to help you fight, because what do you mean it's less than a dozen individuals trying to save the world?

And no, we won't have time to go feed the birds anymore, sorry. The world is at stake and the blight is everywhere.

[wolfeyedwitch]

So what’s the story with Weapon’s antenna and earpiece?

Weapons Don't Weep, Part 8

*grins at you like the Cheshire cat* Ask and ye shall receive! Eventually.

CW for implied non-con body modification.

Masterlist

---

“Please tell me that’s not what it looks like,” Chloe said, looking at the x-rays they’d just taken of Weapon. 

The images were some of the most disturbing that Chloe had ever seen. It wasn’t the content itself that was chilling; no, it was what the images implied that had the three rebels concerned. 

One image was a chest x-ray. It showed the expected bright spot of wrongness under the ribs, just where Weapon had said their tracker was located. That was bad enough, equipping a person with a tracker like they’re nothing more than a piece of equipment. But that wasn’t the end of it. There was another anomaly, bright white and unmistakable, along the line of their spine.

The other image was an x-ray of their head and neck. It too showed something that didn’t belong. One of Weapon’s teeth was the wrong color on the x-ray, too uniformly white to be enamel and dentin. There were thin bright lines trailing from it to the Weapon’s throat, ending in small circles. 

“Well,” Nigel said, drawing the word out as he stared at the x-rays. “That depends. Does it look like a gross human rights violation to you?”

Chloe swore, quiet and emphatic. 

“So these are, what, some kind of implants?” Zeke asked. 

Nigel nodded. “We’ve got the tracker, obviously. The one in their mandible might be some kind of communication device, given that these—” he pointed to the lines emanating from the not-tooth— “extend to their larynx. I’m not sure about the one by their spine, though.”

Chloe thought back to her engineering courses, about all she’d learned of signals and how they traveled. “What if…” she started.

Nigel and Zeke both looked at her. She worried at her lip as she thought of the words she needed. 

“So that’s a tracker,” she said, pointing to it. “And it would send out a signal. But if a signal is going to get anywhere, it needs an antenna. Maybe…” She trailed off, hating the thought of a living, breathing, feeling person being treated anything like her engineering projects. 

Both men understood what she was implying, looking grim. 

“So we got the images,” Zeke said. “Now what? Can you take the tracker out?”

Nigel shook his head. “Not without better scans. These images don’t have nearly enough detail to plan a surgery.”

“What about the other ones?” Chloe asked. “Do they need to be taken out, too? Can they be taken out?”

“The Weapon won’t consent to that,” Zeke said. 

Chloe nodded, embarrassed. She’d been so caught up in the idea of getting the horrible things out that she’d forgotten about Weapon, and how terrifying this must be to them. She looked through the window to the exam room where they sat. They stared at the floor, back ramrod-straight and body statue-still. Only the slight movement of their breathing let her know they were still alive.

“The tooth would be easy enough to remove, but I don’t think it’s necessary,” Nigel said. “They’d have to be in range of Government’s communications for it to even work. And the antenna… I honestly don’t think I could remove it. It’s too close to their spinal cord, and it looks like parts of it have osseo-integrated. Fused to the bone,” he explained at the blank looks his medical jargon got. 

“Okay,” Chloe said. “And if it’s just the antenna, it shouldn’t be an issue to leave it in place.”

Zeke nodded thoughtfully. “So really it’s just the tracker we have to focus on. Doc, you said you need more imaging?”

“Ideally I’d get at least a CT scan,” Nigel agreed. “Can the generator take the load of that?”

“What kind of load are we talking?” Chloe asked. 

Nigel gave her the numbers.

“Oh yeah, Gennie can handle that no problem,” Chloe said. 

Zeke gave her a smile and nod at that, and she stood a little straighter at his approval. While some members brought their military experience as an asset to the team, Chloe brought something else: engineering expertise. Not many mechanical engineers only a few years out of college could say that their generator designs were powering an entire rebel base. 

They got the CT scan. Weapon was still as unnervingly polite and compliant as ever as Nigel directed them to lie down and remain still. Afterwards, Chloe sat with them as the images loaded.

An hour or so of uncomfortable silence later, Zeke came to the door. “Chloe, with me.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” she said. If his tone hadn’t already let her know the seriousness of the situation, his lack of response to her nickname would have.

Nigel was staring at the computer screen, brows furrowed. Behind him, Tyler sat eating an apple as noisily as possible. Riley leaned against the wall, gaze trained on Weapon through the window.

Aren’t I Miss Tardy-to-the-Party, Chloe thought. If the whole team was here, this had to be serious. 

“So we have a minor problem,” Nigel said. He adjusted the image on screen to show the tracker: a small disc of metal tucked underneath Weapon’s ribcage. The 3D rendering didn’t look any less disturbing than the x-ray had. 

“I can’t take that out without killing them,” he went on.

“Okay,” Riley said. “So we do what we originally planned: destroy Government’s biggest threat.”

Chloe turned to stare at them, mouth agape in dismay. “What? No! They’re not a machine to be destroyed; they’re a goddamn human being who needs our help!”

Riley just shrugged. “We can’t have them here with the tracker; we can’t take the tracker out without killing them. Do you have a better solution?” 

Chloe turned back to Nigel. “Why can’t you take it out?” she asked.

He gestured to the screen with a pen, sketching out reasons in such dense medical jargon that Chloe got lost about three words in. 

“For those of us who flunked high school anatomy, Doc?” Tyler drawled. 

Nigel sighed and started over. “The device is nestled in the pleural— it’s between their lung and the inside of their ribcage,” he said. “And it’s underneath their diaphragm. Getting it out would be delicate work, and run a high risk of causing respiratory distress. And that’s even before you factor in the fact that they’d need to be under general anesthesia for this, which I can’t do.”

“But- but Government got it in there just fine!” Chloe protested. 

Nigel fixed her with a flat stare. “Government has the resources to have a team of specialists on hand for procedures like that. They’d have cardiologists, pulmonologists, and anesthesiologists on top of general surgeons and a trained staff of nurses. We, on the other hand, have me: a single doctor trained as a generalist, not a specialist.” 

Chloe shrunk under his gaze. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she said. “But we can’t have gotten this far just to quit!”

Tyler took a loud bite of his apple and spoke with his mouth full. “If you can’t take it out, why not just leave it in?”

That comment made the other four stare at him incredulously. 

“Because we don’t want even the possibility of Government finding this base,” Zeke said slowly.

Tyler shook his head. “Not what I meant. I meant, why don’t we just disable the thing instead of taking it out?”

“Can you do that?” Chloe asked eagerly.

He nodded. “Sure; I’ve got an EMP around here somewhere. If you grab a couple of your scanners, we can make sure the thing is nothing more than useless scraps.”

“Would that be safe for the Weapon?” Zeke asked. 

Nigel nodded slowly. “It’s encapsulated; as long as the EMP wouldn’t damage the hardware…”

“Nope, just fry the electronics,” Tyler said.

“Then it would be fine,” Nigel said. 

“And if we’re going to be scanning anyway, I can see about any signals coming off the other implants,” Chloe said, already warming to the idea.

Zeke nodded his approval. “Then do it.”

---

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[sometipsygnostalgic]

Gotta love how Bow and Entrapta's relationship started with Bow idolizing her as an engineer, then started to emulate her skills, and ended up saving all the chipped Etherians with their combined skills.

This dynamic actually runs across the entire show. It's downplayed, because Bow's tech skills... are thoroughly overshadowed by hers. I thought he'd get that "underdog" moment where he beats her, but it doesn't happen, LOL. I'm glad because I hate the "underdog boy overtakes masterclass girl" trope.

Bow wants to recruit Entrapta because he idolises her tech skills. Entrapta likes him, and looks for him during Princess Prom to show off her new recorder. When he thinks she's dead, he makes a voice recording while taking apart her horde bots, saying that "the best scientist I ever knew" did this. (I don't think he does this again but it would be funny if he has a collection of awkward recordings)

Bow is devastated by her betrayal and sees her as a tech rival when she joins the Horde. He pleas for her to leave them when they bump into each other. He makes good progress on developing tracker pads and arrows. Unfortunately, Bow lags behind so massively with his tech that while he's able to protect the Rebellion from her robots, she's already creating a portal to the next universe over.

Bow in season 4 is getting much better at technologically countering the Horde, and engages in an Arms Race against Hordak. They both, comically, think they're racing against Entrapta, who is again 10 steps ahead and busy discovering the Heart of Etheria on Beast Island.

In season 5, Bow and Entrapta work together as tech partners for the entire season. They are the Space Ship Team that prepare Darla for takeoff over a period of about 3 months. Bow tries to stop her from modding the ship, allows it when it becomes a necessity for their escape, and ends up piloting Darla into an Asteroid Field himself at Entrapta's suggestion and Adora's instruction. They also work together on cracking Prime's signals. When Entrapta's having a hard time removing Spinerella's chip, she grabs Bow and explains they need to break the signal at the source.

Bow in the series finale proves his worth as a Techmaster by completing the hacking process into Prime's insanely complex neural network 1000 years ahead of where even the First Ones were, and freeing all the Etherians.

Both of them in the final episode also have moments where they represent the Heart, not just the Smart Guy. Entrapta's biggest strength is her ability to find friends in unlikely places, which she demonstrates when Hordak turns against Prime. Bow is obviously the heart of the Best Friend Squad, and he's able to appeal to Scorpia, someone who he doesn't even know very well, to break her mind control! They both also piss off Prime with their speeches about the power of friendship. Which is very sweet for Bow, finally showing off his leadership, and compelling for Entrapta, who is not the best speaker and has had to work hard to be part of the “us” in her speech. Anyway they're fun.

[thelostsisters]

As someone who is Starting to watch stranger things and doesn’t mind spoliers I would like to hear the similarities between Mono and Henry creel, it sounds interesting

omg sorry for taking FOREVER to respond to this but i wanted to make sure i had all my thoughts together perfectly idk

but anyways yeah here’s my mono/henry comparison:

first is something more superficial but still interesting is that mono means “one” and obviously henry = 001

both betray their friend (who are both ironically young girls whose names are a number), however neither of them really view what they’ve done as bad/betrayal (obviously with mono still being the protagonist at this point in the game we know he’s doing the right thing, whereas henry is very obviously in the wrong)

this interaction between henry and el perfectly describes mono and six’s ending: “you tricked me!” “tricked you? no i saved you.” so in st4 henry manipulates el into helping him removing the tracker that suppressed his powers so he can kill everyone at the lab and escape. he doesn’t view his actions as wrong bc he was still planning to help el get out of the lab, and he doesn’t think killing the kids is wrong bc, in his words, he “freed them” from the grasps of dr. brenner. in ln2, you have to use six’s trust in mono to trick monster!six into going after you, to which you run through the portals and smash her music box behind her back. mono knows that six is bound to the signal tower through the music box (or at least that how i interpret it; basically mono is willing to do whatever he can to get his friend back) but six doesn’t see this. i’ve written about it before but i think she was in a trance similar to that of the viewers, and mono breaking her music box not only physically hurt her but broke her out of the safety of that trance and into their dangerous world. mono wants to get his friend back, but six only sees that he’s betrayed her trust

after the betrayal, both mono and henry are then turned on by their young friend, who “kills” them by sending them to an alternate realm of some sort (and in the most dramatic of ways possible lol; six could have just walked off instead of catching mono and dropping him, and el could have just snapped henry’s neck and been done with it, but they live for the drama of it all and honestly? good for them) (also ik the upside down is much more of an alternate reality than the signal tower but it’s still very much a supernatural entity that can alter reality in a way so i say it counts) neither of them knew that they would survive this, but of course we know that isn’t the case… which leads to the next big point:

both become monsters after being imprisoned and isolated from the world; mono becomes the thin man after being trapped in the signal tower for decades, henry becomes 001 and is trapped in the lab for 2 decades, then is sent to the upside down where he’s imprisoned again and becomes vecna

with both of these transformations we see the characters letting their anger and loneliness consume them, as well as them being overtaken by a desire for revenge

now some sightly less major similarities that i still thought i’d point out bc it’s kinda neat:

thin man kidnaps children through the tvs according to the LN comics (i imagine he kills them too but don’t quote me on that), 001 killed the kids in the lab who had been kidnapped by brenner

the unsettling twinkling music that plays when we first meet henry in 4x05 reminds me a lot of the beginning of The Man in the Hat and End of the Hall

[karahalloway]

“Oh, come on, Liam! Live a little! Tell him, Rashad!” When he got no answer, he turned to look behind him, “Rashad?” Rashad was nowhere to be found. “Huh,” Leo shrugged before grabbing Liam by the shoulder and hauling him into the nearest pub.

Rashad disappears and Leo's like 'meh...' 🤣🤣🤣

“No buts, little bro! It’s time you learned to loosen up and have a good time!” Leo chuckled as he plunked himself down on a barstool and motioned the bartender over.

Agreed!

Liam reluctantly removed his Patek Philippe original and handed it over, “Could you just tell me what-“ “Perfect timing!” Leo crowed as the bartender delivered their drinks. He slid a glass of bourbon to his brother before tossing both watches into the pitcher of beer.

The practiced ease with which he does this is hilarious!

Liam spun around to look, Leo quickly pulled the waistband of his pants out and the waistband of his underwear up. He snipped a piece of material before Liam could spin back around. “What the fuck are you doing Leo?” Liam yelped. “Freeing you from all the trackers!” He answered as he dropped a small tracking device to the floor and stomped on it.

The mental image of this 🤣🤣🤣

“There are trackers in our underwear?” “Well, yours, I ditched mine before we left the hotel!” Leo waggled his eyebrows at him, “I’m commando right now!”

Of course he is 🤣🤣🤣 And he obviously doesn't mind

“Hey, wow, thanks, man!” The redhead swayed a little as he strapped in on his wrist, “this looks real! Best Mardi Gras swag I’ve ever gotten!” “You’re welcome! Enjoy!” Leo called as he watched the group exit the bar and split up, heading off in different directions.

Leo is so evil to Bastien 🤣🤣🤣

“Of course, I’m staring at the most beautiful woman in New Orleans!” he gave her the signature Rys smile, guaranteed to charm the pants off any woman. She wasn’t having any though. With a roll of her eyes, she turned away.

“Didn’t I see you with your hands down some guy’s pants?” one of the other women asked. “No, I mean yes, I mean that was my brother!” “That makes it worse!” the woman exclaimed.

Whoops! Looks like all that hard work with the trackers backfired!

“So what’s your story?” the third woman asked. “Well, if you must know, I'm a prince!” Leo dropped that bomb and waited. It always worked. The blond turned back toward him with a snort, “Sure honey, everyone's a prince tonight. Come on girls, let’s get back to the party!”

All his lines are backfiring on him! Love it!

“Wait!” Leo bumped straight into the bouncer outside the door. The huge behemoth of a man grinned at him, “I’ll let you be my king tonight if you want!”

“I’m Simbi,” she giggled, “What’s your name?” “Leo. Nice to meet you Simbi, can I buy you a drink?” “You could,” she shimmed closer to him, “or we could get out of here. I live nearby.” “Lead the way!”

A familiar raised voice caught his attention. He glanced to the right as the girl pulled him to the left. Bastien was arguing with the guy he’d given Liam’s watch to. He turned around and dipped his head down, speeding up his pace, and letting the crowd do most of the work of hiding him. Halfway down the street, he tossed both phones onto a passing float. Let Bas chase that all night he thought with a smirk.

🤣🤣🤣

“Oh, the luck is all ours, Your Highness,” a voice called from the darkness. “What?” Leo’s head spun around trying to find the source. A woman with deep wrinkles and white hair stepped into his line of sight, “We’ve never had royalty here before. Good job, Simbi.”

His eyes slid back to the old woman who was creeping quietly closer to him, blade in hand. “Nope! Nope! Nope! Sorry!” Leo shoved Simbi’s head away and bolted for the door, pulling his pants up as he went.

I love how he had to covince himself that he shouldn't wait for Simbi for finish! 🤣🤣🤣 But I guess the sight of a wicked-looking blade is enough to quicky reprioritise your priorities!

and a lot of nightmare inducing taxidermy

Christ I shudder to think what kind of horror show he accidentally stumbled upon! 🫣 But this line was 👌

He heard shouting in the hallway which sent a surge of adrenaline crashing through him. He frantically twisted it one more time and the latch broke, freeing the window. He shoved it open and dove head-first through it. Leo dropped two stories down into an industrial garbage dumpster. He lay in the piles of putrid garbage as he caught his breath.

Yes. Super graceful, Leo 😆

Simbi appeared in the window above him, “Leo! Leo! Come back! We only need some of your blood!” Fuck that!

I mean... agreed. What did they honestly expect? For him to come willingly? 🤣🤣🤣

“Sir, sir, you can’t be in here,” the concierge was scolding him, “there’s a homeless shelter two blocks down.” “Homeless? No, I’m not homeless, I just need a phone!” “Smells like you need a shower.”

She peered at him more seriously, “Security team? Still sticking with the I’m a prince story?” Leo pulled himself upright and reached down deep to find that Rys charm, “Yes, I’ve had a bit of a run-in with an evil sorceress and now find myself lost in a strange kingdom without my valiant knights. Could you help a prince out?”

Not sure which part of that is least believable *snort*

“You didn’t seem to like me before,” Leo observed as they entered the elevator, “What made you change your mind?” “Your brother,” she answered as she pushed the button for her floor, “He’s a sweetheart and he has a soft spot for you, so you can’t be too bad.” Leo closed his eyes and gave silent thanks for Liam’s unintentionally fabulous job as wingman. Maybe this night wasn’t a complete loss.

“I brought dresses. Except for this,” she gestured to her pink “Most likely to get pregnant” t-shirt. Leo noted the way her eyes tracked up and down his bare torso. He smiled just the right way to make his dimples show, tossed the towel in his hand to the ground, and walked toward her, “I’ll take it!”

Bahahaha! Trust Leo to actually want that t-shirt... though the sex he gives her in exchange can't have been bad either 😏

Forty-five minutes later, Leo left her room wearing the dry, but still smelly purple pants and a pink t-shirt that made a half shirt on him. An extremely tight half-shirt. The concierge shook his head disapprovingly but gave him directions to the Golden Lantern.

These pesky foreigners...

🤣🤣🤣

Mardi Gras Mayhem Chapter 7: Leo

Series: Mardi Gras Mayhem (click the link to read each one in order!)

Fandom: TRR                                                                       

Pairings: none, this is a guy’s weekend

Summary: The TRR lads celebrate Maxwell’s 21st birthday in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Synopsis: Leo strikes out at the bar and ends up in a precarious situation.

Word Count: 2,672

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warning: language and lemons and possible murder attempt

This is part of a collaboration written for @choicesprompts March 2023 prompt.

“Well, there’s no way we’re getting back on the other side of the street anytime soon,” Leo observed, “So we might as well make the most of it!”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, Liam! Live a little! Tell him, Rashad!”

When he got no answer, he turned to look behind him, “Rashad?”

Rashad was nowhere to be found. “Huh,” Leo shrugged before grabbing Liam by the shoulder and hauling him into the nearest pub.

“Leo, should we try to find the rest of our group?”

“We will,” Leo assured him as he pulled him toward the bar, “Later!”

“But-“

“No buts, little bro! It’s time you learned to loosen up and have a good time!” Leo chuckled as he plunked himself down on a barstool and motioned the bartender over.

“Should we at least check in with Bastien? I’m sure the security team will be looking for us, I think they got stuck on the other side of the street.

“You know what?” Leo regarded him seriously, “You’re right!”

“I am?” Liam was surprised, Leo usually wasn’t very compliant about the rules they were given to help keep them safe.

“You are! Now give me your watch!” Leo turned and gave their order to the bartender, “Two bourbons and a pitcher of beer and a pair of scissors please!”

The barkeep didn’t question his request for scissors but Liam questioned his request for his watch, “Um…why?”

“Just hand it over, and I’ll show you.” He replied as he removed his own watch.

Liam reluctantly removed his Patek Philippe original and handed it over, “Could you just tell me what-“

“Perfect timing!” Leo crowed as the bartender delivered their drinks. He slid a glass of bourbon to his brother before tossing both watches into the pitcher of beer.

“Leo! What the hell?!” Liam reached for the pitcher, but Leo scooted it out of his reach and pointed to something behind Liam, “Is that Bas right there?”

Liam spun around to look, Leo quickly pulled the waistband of his pants out and the waistband of his underwear up. He snipped a piece of material before Liam could spin back around.

“What the fuck are you doing Leo?” Liam yelped.

“Freeing you from all the trackers!” He answered as he dropped a small tracking device to the floor and stomped on it.

“There are trackers in our underwear?”

“Well, yours, I ditched mine before we left the hotel!” Leo waggled his eyebrows at him, “I’m commando right now!”

“Leo, I want my watch back!” Liam reached for the container of beer.

Leo used one hand to keep the pitcher away from Liam as he reached for his drink with the other, “I’m doing this for your own good, bro!”

“But-“

“No buts!”

A group of women in pink t-shirts entered the bar and waded through a group of men in green t-shirts exiting the bar. Both sets of shirts bore phrases that all started with “most likely to”. There were shouts and laughter and high-fives as each group noticed the other.

Most of the women headed for a small private room in the back but one busty blonde headed to the bar, walking past Leo as she did. Her skin-tight pink t-shirt was emblazoned with the words, “most likely to get pregnant”, and Leo forgot to guard the pitcher as his head turned to follow her.

Liam dashed around his brother and seized the pitcher, plunging his hands in and rescuing the watches. He frantically dabbed them dry with napkins from the bar.

When Leo finally looked back he said, “Liam, you know there are tracking devices in those, right?”

“No, I didn’t know that but-“

Leo snatched both watches up with a sigh, “Just in case the beer didn’t short-circuit them….”

“Wait! Where are you going?” Liam tried to follow but was cut off by several of the loud rowdy women in pink t-shirts.

“Oh, you’re cute! Come with us!” One of them grabbed Liam by the arm and tugged him toward the back of the bar, away from Leo.

“Excuse me, sir!” Leo called out to the group of green t-shirted men that were headed to the door, “but may I ask where you’re going next?”

A lanky redheaded young man who appeared to be already a little inebriated pointed to the west, “headed back to my hotel, there’s a pool party going on! Might stop at a few more pubs first though.”

One of his companions pointed in the other direction, “Nah, the rest of us are going to catch the parade, then we’re-“

“You’re going in opposite directions? Even better!” Leo cried gleefully as he thrust a watch at each of them, “Happy Mardi Gras!”

“Hey, wow, thanks, man!” The redhead swayed a little as he strapped in on his wrist, “this looks real! Best Mardi Gras swag I’ve ever gotten!”

“You’re welcome! Enjoy!” Leo called as he watched the group exit the bar and split up, heading off in different directions.

Leo turned with a satisfied smile and made his way back toward the bar, meeting his brother halfway across the room.

“Leo!” Liam had finally managed to extricate himself from the woman and had made his way hastily toward his brother, “Did you just give away my watch? That was a Christmas gift from dad!”

“I’ll buy you another one,” Leo responded as he craned his neck and scanned the room, “Did you see a blonde with a pink t-shirt anywhere?”

“It was one of a kind!” Liam protested, “And yes, they’re having a bachelorette party in the back room.”

“How did you know that? Never mind, just take me to them!”

“Fine, follow me, but I’m calling Bas,” Liam pulled his phone out.

They were almost to the door of the back room when Leo caught sight of her at the bar with two of her friends, ordering drinks. He snatched the phone from Liam’s hand as he changed course, “See you later, Li! Thank me later!”

“Wait, what?” Liam tried to follow Leo but the brunette from earlier found him.

“There you are!” She yelled as she grabbed him, “What’s wrong? Aren’t we enough fun for you? There are fifteen about-to-be drunk and horny women back here!”

“Oh…I…uh…” he stumbled after her as she gripped his arm and started walking.

“Wait,” she stopped just outside the door, “you’re not gay, are you? I mean, it’s cool if you are but if you are then I guess you don’t care about-“

“What? No, I’m straight! Well, actually I might be a little b-“

“Oh, good!” She squealed as she yanked him through the door with her.

Leo sidled up to the bar in time to overhear the women talking, “….then I threw his shit out the window!”

“I warned you girl, I knew he was a loser when he invited you over for dinner and his mom cooked it!”

“We can’t all be as lucky as Priscilla; did you know her fiancé is a fucking CEO?”

“I heard Lydia’s boyfriend is some kind of minor nobility in his home country and-“

“Sorry, ladies,” Leo interrupted, “I couldn’t help but overhear-“

“Sure, you could,” the blonde answered, “You’ve been standing there staring at me since you got here.”

“Of course, I’m staring at the most beautiful woman in New Orleans!” he gave her the signature Rys smile, guaranteed to charm the pants off any woman.

She wasn’t having any though. With a roll of her eyes, she turned away.

“Didn’t I see you with your hands down some guy’s pants?” one of the other women asked.

“No, I mean yes, I mean that was my brother!”

“That makes it worse!” the woman exclaimed.

“No, it’s not like that!”

“So what’s your story?” the third woman asked.

“Well, if you must know, I'm a prince!” Leo dropped that bomb and waited. It always worked.

The blond turned back toward him with a snort, “Sure honey, everyone's a prince tonight. Come on girls, let’s get back to the party!”

“No, really!” Leo tried to follow them, “I'm going to be king one day!”

“Sure you are...”

“Wait!”

Leo bumped straight into the bouncer outside the door. The huge behemoth of a man grinned at him, “I’ll let you be my king tonight if you want!”

“Ah, thanks….but no…” Leo backed away dejectedly and smacked right into someone else. He spun around and grabbed at her glass in a futile attempt to keep her drink from spilling, “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” she smiled up at him, “Are you really a prince?”

His attention snapped up from the spilled drink on the floor to the woman in front of him. While not the bombshell the other woman was, she was still hella attractive. A little shorter than he usually liked, but she had the goods. Wide hips, narrow waist, big boobs, and luscious lips that gave him ideas.

He brought that megawatt smile to the table and played up his accent, “Why yes ma’am, I am.”

Her eyes lit up, “So you’re royalty?”

“I am, and you are?”

“I’m Simbi,” she giggled, “What’s your name?”

“Leo. Nice to meet you Simbi, can I buy you a drink?”

“You could,” she shimmed closer to him, “or we could get out of here. I live nearby.”

“Lead the way!”

Leo was delighted with this turn of events. Without giving his brother a second thought, he followed her out the door and through the throngs of people lining the street.

A familiar raised voice caught his attention. He glanced to the right as the girl pulled him to the left. Bastien was arguing with the guy he’d given Liam’s watch to. He turned around and dipped his head down, speeding up his pace, and letting the crowd do most of the work of hiding him.

Halfway down the street, he tossed both phones onto a passing float. Let Bas chase that all night he thought with a smirk.

She led him through a small shop filled with crystals and bottles of powders, through a beaded curtain, and up a set of rickety stairs. She made her way down a darkened hallway and pushed open a door at the end.

He followed her inside, pushing the door shut behind them. She pounced on him the moment the door clicked shut.

“I’ve never been with a prince before!” Simbi breathed as she pressed her body into his.

“Well, tonight’s your lucky night!” he told her before crashing his lips into hers.

“Mmm, it must be,” she murmured as she slid to her knees, tugging at the fastening to his purple velvet pants.

“Ah!” Leo’s knees nearly buckled out from under him as her tongue made contact with him, “Oof! I think it’s my lucky night!”

“Oh, the luck is all ours, Your Highness,” a voice called from the darkness.

“What?” Leo’s head spun around trying to find the source.

A woman with deep wrinkles and white hair stepped into his line of sight, “We’ve never had royalty here before. Good job, Simbi.”

Leo glanced down at Simbi. She hadn’t even slowed down in her ministrations despite the appearance of….her grandmother?

“Ah….” Leo’s cock deflated halfway but quickly regained its hardness as Simbi redoubled her efforts, “Shit!” he breathed out as his head fell back.

A clattering sound caught his attention and he glanced back at the old woman. She had placed a metal bowl on the table in front of her, lit a candle, and was running her finger down the edge of a gleaming silver blade.

“What are you- oh!” the woman on her knees in front of him commanded his attention. She had a very talented tongue and he wanted nothing more than to let her finish what she was doing but some sliver of survival instinct fought its way to the surface of his hormone-laden brain.

His eyes slid back to the old woman who was creeping quietly closer to him, blade in hand.

“Nope! Nope! Nope! Sorry!” Leo shoved Simbi’s head away and bolted for the door, pulling his pants up as he went.

“Leo, wait!” Simbi yelled.

He was halfway down the hall to the stairs when he heard footsteps pounding up them.

Shit!

He veered to his left and darted into a cramped room filled with old trunks, a few partially dismembered store mannequins, and a lot of nightmare inducing taxidermy. Tripping over stacks of old books and boxes of odds and ends, and sending rats scurrying in his wake, he made it to the window on the far wall.

His fingers scrabbled frantically at the latch, which was stuck from years of disuse. He heard shouting in the hallway which sent a surge of adrenaline crashing through him. He frantically twisted it one more time and the latch broke, freeing the window. He shoved it open and dove head-first through it.

Leo dropped two stories down into an industrial garbage dumpster. He lay in the piles of putrid garbage as he caught his breath.

Simbi appeared in the window above him, “Leo! Leo! Come back! We only need some of your blood!”

Fuck that!

He scrambled out of the dumpster and took off down the alleyway. Skittering around the corner, he didn’t slow down until he found himself back in civilization in front of a well-lit, well-populated hotel. He patted down his pockets for his phone. Right. Shit! He stumbled into the lobby glancing around for a phone he could borrow.

“Sir, sir, you can’t be in here,” the concierge was scolding him, “there’s a homeless shelter two blocks down.”

“Homeless? No, I’m not homeless, I just need a phone!”

“Smells like you need a shower.”

He spun toward the voice. It couldn’t be!

It was the woman from the bar, shaking her head in amusement, “What the hell happened to you in the last hour, prince charming?”

“I…it’s a long story, I just need a phone so I can call my brother or the head of my security team.”

She peered at him more seriously, “Security team? Still sticking with the I’m a prince story?”

Leo pulled himself upright and reached down deep to find that Rys charm, “Yes, I’ve had a bit of a run-in with an evil sorceress and now find myself lost in a strange kingdom without my valiant knights. Could you help a prince out?”

She laughed as she shook her head, “Fine. You can use my phone, but first, you’re welcome to use my shower if you like.”

“I would love to use your shower! I’m Leo, by the way.”

“Well, Leo, I’m Genevieve, nice to meet you.”

“You didn’t seem to like me before,” Leo observed as they entered the elevator, “What made you change your mind?”

“Your brother,” she answered as she pushed the button for her floor, “He’s a sweetheart and he has a soft spot for you, so you can’t be too bad.”

Leo closed his eyes and gave silent thanks for Liam’s unintentionally fabulous job as wingman. Maybe this night wasn’t a complete loss.

Fifteen minutes later a freshly clean Leo walked out of Genevieve’s bathroom with one towel wrapped around his waist, and one gripped in his hand drying his hair, “I don’t suppose you have any clothes I can borrow?”

“I brought dresses. Except for this,” she gestured to her pink “Most likely to get pregnant” t-shirt.

Leo noted the way her eyes tracked up and down his bare torso. He smiled just the right way to make his dimples show, tossed the towel in his hand to the ground, and walked toward her, “I’ll take it!”

“You’ll have to get it off me first,” she teased.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Forty-five minutes later, Leo left her room wearing the dry, but still smelly purple pants and a pink t-shirt that made a half shirt on him. An extremely tight half-shirt.

The concierge shook his head disapprovingly but gave him directions to the Golden Lantern.

[iphoenixrising]

DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

Case in point:

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

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

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

He knows them.

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

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

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

and the fucking Talon has wings.

Honest-to-God wings.

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

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

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

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

–the Batman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

Natch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.

"Tt, back up your mouth with action."

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

"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."

"Other than N's shitty mullet?"

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

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

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

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

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

But.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he lunges.

**

The fight happens very differently this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”

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

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

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

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

“Lies. All of it lies!”

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

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

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

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

[farfromharry]

The one with Washington | Peter’s girl

Summary: You head to Washington with your team for the academic decathlon, however it takes a turn at the Washington monument

Word Count - 3246

Warnings - language probably, i can’t remember anything else

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You were looking forward to the trip with your peers to Washington. Granted it was for academics but you’d never been to Washington and you were excited to share that experience with your friends.

“Do you really have to go on a mission right now Pete?”

His eyes widened, the male shushing you urgently, turning more heads towards you than your actual comment. He looked around the bus nervously, hoping no one had managed to hear what you said.

“Keep it down.”

You were slightly regretting letting Peter sit with you for the bus ride. You were originally going to sit on your own to do some last minute practice by yourself, but having sat close to the back of the bus where no one else was you managed to attract Peter, who needed to answer a call from Happy, and now here you were.

“I have to catch these guys Y/N, they’re dangerous,” he explained. You sighed, growing concerned again for Peter’s safety, something you felt like you were having to do far too often nowadays.

“That’s the point Pete, what if-“ He cut you off before you could say the words he’d heard you say too many times by this point.

“I have super healing Y/N, it doesn’t matter.” He had to cover your mouth with his hand when he saw you go to speak up, sending you a stern glare. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

You rolled your eyes, slouching against your seat as you gave up trying to convince him otherwise, he was surprisingly stubborn for a boy that got nervous at everything.

Once he knew you weren’t going to jump in again, he removed his hand from your mouth, setting it back down in his lap.

“You’re going to make it to the competition though, right?” you asked. Peter expected you to have at least a little more faith in him.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah of course, stop worrying so much.” You flashed him a forced smile, asking him to go over some practice questions with you for the rest of the ride.

Upon arriving at the hotel you obviously chose to share a room with Mj, getting the go from your teacher to head up there to put your stuff away.

“I think I’m gonna take a nap,” she said, already climbing under the covers of one of the twin beds. You nodded your head, wishing her a goodnight. In order to not disturb her you decided to head out to Ned and Peter’s room which was just down the hall and say goodbye to Peter before he left for his solo mission.

You knocked on the door, a nervous looking Peter pulling it ajar to see who was there. As soon as he saw it was you he let out a sigh, telling Ned he could bring his computer back out.

“What are you doing?” you asked, taking a seat on the opposite bed where there wasn’t some kind of weird, glowy rock.

“Mr Stark put-“ Peter shot his best friend a glare, telling him to stop talking. You eyed the two curiously, tilting your head.

“Mr Stark what?”

“Nothing,” Peter said quickly, brushing it off nervously.

You raised your eyebrows at Ned, knowing he was most likely to crack first out of the two boys.

“Mr Stark put a training wheels protocol on Peter’s suit,” he blurted out. Peter went wide eyed, slapping his friend’s arm while you started to laugh. You didn’t even acknowledge the glare he was sending your way.

“Awe Peter, he thinks you’re a baby.”

He ignored both of you as you made comments making fun of him, focusing on taking the tracker out of his suit. Your laughter eventually died down and you laid back on the bed to get more comfortable. You asked a few questions here and there about what they were doing, about the scary rock that you learned was something to do with aliens, not that that information made it any less scary, and eventually you ran out of stuff to ask them.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that you’d been there a few hours already, and Mj should probably be awake from her nap by now.

“Well,” you announced, standing up from where you’d been laying down. “I’m gonna go see what Mjs doing,” you said.

You wrapped your arms around Peter’s shoulder from behind and squeezed him tightly, the position slightly awkward seeing as he was still laying down. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times but-“

He grinned, cutting you off. “Be careful, I know.”

You flicked your index finger against the back of his head, scolding him for finding your concern for his safety funny.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, be back in time Parker.” He fake saluted you, making you giggle as you left the room. “Yes ma’am.”

“Bye Ned.”

You headed back to your own room where you suspected Mj was probably reading her book in bed, if she was awake. You entered the room with a small smile, noticing she was up and rummaging through her bag for something.

“Are you okay?” you asked. She startled, pressing her hand to her chest. She glared at you while you giggled at how easy she was to scare.

“Liz came and asked if we wanted to go swimming,” she explained. You nodded your head happily, moving over to your own bag to find the one-piece you’d packed for this occasion.

When you and Mj ran into Peter in the hall, in nothing but swimming costumes, you grew slightly nervous. Heck you were pretty much half naked in front of a boy, and that scared you to death, even if it was just Peter.

“Where are you guys going?”

“We’re going swimming, do you want to come?” You asked, trying to stop Mj tugging you to the pool for a second. You’d forgotten about the mission in complete honesty, you were just trying to be nice by inviting him. Peter gave you a look, silently reminding you that he was meant to be going on the mission now.

“I was just gonna go study a little, but thanks for the offer guys.” You nodded, turning back to Mj with a giggle as the two of you followed after your classmates. He watched you both go, a small smile gracing his lips seeing you both so happy.

When you got down to the pool you felt like a little girl heading to the beach, barely able to wait to get in. Mj however decided she was going to sit on the side, something that made you pout.

You swam to the edge of the pool she was at, resting your arms on the side to keep yourself afloat.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“Is Peter really going to study?” she asked. You hid your nerves with a small laugh, shrugging your shoulders at the curly haired girl.

“How would I know?”

“I saw the look he gave you,” she said, softly. To Mj it looked like you and Peter were hiding something. She noticed you’d gotten a lot closer these past few weeks and she was scared you were either secretly dating, or had developed feelings for eachother.

And if she thought Peter and Liz would hurt, you and Peter would be a whole nother level of heartbreak for her.

You sighed, splashing some of the pool water on her. “I don’t know where he’s going.” Lie. “But he’s not here, so let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

She seemed hesitant, but you were still her best friend and for all she knew she was just being dramatic.

“Yeah, okay.” She got up from the chair she was on, placing her folded towel down in her spot. You whistled at her as your eyes raked over her frame, throwing compliments her way that made her all flustered.

“We’re playing chicken, d’you wanna join?” Flash asked. Normally when Flash asked you to do anything you’d say no in a heartbeat, but right now it didn’t seem like the worst idea. You looked at Mj with a shrug, muttering a ‘why not’.

“Teammates?” you asked, holding your fist in place for a fistbump.

She grinned, hitting your knuckles together. “Teammates.”

»»——⍟——««

Everyone was more or less annoyed with Peter for missing the competition, especially with no reason or even text from him to tell you so, but you weren’t going to let that put a damper on your fun, nor was anyone else.

The group of you had planned to celebrate by taking a tour of the Washington monument.

You were currently trying to convince Mj to come up with you, but the girl was insisting that she was happy to read her book by herself down on the ground.

You just rolled your eyes, feeling bad for abandoning her and leaving her all on her own.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the scolding sun bearing down on you. She shook her head, telling you to go have fun. You left her there on the bench with her book and went and joined the rest of your team who were already heading inside the monument.

On the way up in the elevator you weren’t really listening to the woman, she didn’t sound too pleased or excited to be doing her job and it was rather hard to listen to, so you tuned her out and instead just looked around.

The last thing you expected was for the alien thingy in Ned’s pocket to spontaneously explode, a chorus of gasps filling the small space of the elevator.

“Ned, what’s happening?” you whisper-yelled, looking up at what looked like laser marks in the ceiling of the elevator.

“I-I don’t know.”

You wished you had stayed with Mj now, and she was on the ground thinking the exact same thing as she saw the explosion. When Spiderman ran past her she gasped, hearing his reassurances that he was going to save you all.

Your hand clinged to Ned’s jacket out of pure fear, a quiet squeal slipping past your lips when the elevator dropped again.

None of you knew how you were going to get out of this situation, despite what the woman had said, that elevator was most definitely not going to hold you all for long, so it was either find a way out or drop to the bottom of the monument, and it was a long way down.

Your heart stopped every time there was a slight movement in the metal cage, thinking that this was it, no way out but down. You were mentally scolding Peter for not being here, knowing if he was he might have been able to prevent this.

You watched as one by one people were hoisted out and put back onto the safe ground, and you could only wish that was currently you.

You and Ned both almost scoffed when Flash pushed his way to his turn, nudging Liz out of the way in the process, taking the now useless trophy with him. That was apparently the final straw for the elevator, the strings snapping like twigs as it began to plummet to the one place you didn’t want to be. You couldn’t hold Ned’s hand any tighter.

It eventually stopped with a rather harsh jolt, the four of you looking up and around in pure confusion.

“Are we dead?” Ned asked. You slapped his arm, shooting a scowl his way for the unnecessary comment.

“Don’t say that.”

You had never been so grateful to see the red and blue figure landing somewhere, even if it wasn’t the most graceful of landings, his back colliding with the solid floor. But nonetheless your heart started to beat again when you accepted the fact that Peter was here, and he was going to save you all.

“Okay, come on,” he instructed, using the fake accent so your teacher and Liz didn’t figure him out. In any other situation you might have found it amusing, but you were too on edge to even muster up a giggle.

Peter helped Ned out first, seeing as he was closest to the doors, with the help of the security guards that were working in the top of the monument.

You let Mr Harrington go next, because truthfully, just like Liz you were currently too scared to actually move. You were terrified that the floor beneath you was going to collapse any second, and you were thinking that Peter was too.

The male knew he wouldn’t be able to hold this for much longer. He could see the way his fabric covered feet were denting the metal and he was growing more and more panicked by the second.

When it was your turn to get out all you needed was a reassuring look from Peter. Just one that told you he wouldn’t let you fall.

He nervously shouted for you to hurry up, seeing that both you and Liz were still there all while he was losing his grip.

He reached out a gloved hand to help you get up the small gap to where Ned and one of the security guards were waiting for you, considering there wasn’t really anyone there inside the elevator who could give you a boost because the girl in there was basically frozen.

“Thank you,” you whispered, seeing Peter nod his head. The only person left in the elevator now was Liz, and you and Ned could both pretty much feel how nervous Peter was right now.

Not only was he saving her, but one wrong move could mean that was it, and he would never not blame himself if something happened to her.

Ned’s hand had found its way into yours for comfort, the two of you coaxing Liz to come forward and grab onto you both.

“Just a few more steps, you’re okay,” you muttered, stretching as much as you could.

You thought he’d done it, you thought he’d saved everyone. She stepped forward and reached for you but never seemed to make it to your hand properly. You felt her fingertips brush with yours for only a second before they were gone again.

Your eyes widened when the elevator dropped, Liz dropping with it. It was a tense few moments as she screamed, you and your other classmates watching in horror as she fell.

You all felt guilty, even though right now there was nothing you could do. Peter barely managed to catch her with one of his webs, and you could feel the relief radiating off of him even from where you were standing, knowing he had her and she was safe, and you knew that definitely calmed at least some part of him.

He tugged on the web until he was firmly holding her hand, guiding her to the ledge just past the elevator shaft.

You helped her back onto the ground, letting her wrap her arms around you out of fear. He looked in your direction, you and Ned flashing him a grateful smile.

Peter obviously had to get going if he was going to make it back to the hotel in time to not be suspected by anyone. So with a little nod that told him you would look after Liz, he was waving a goodbye and swinging his way out of there.

You rubbed the shaking girl’s back, whispering calming words to her to reassure her that she was okay now, all of you were okay thanks to Peter.

»»——⍟——««

Even on the bus home, hours later, Mj could tell you were still shaken up. Basically every one was. You insisted she sit with you this time, so she was now shuffling closer to you on your shared seat to wrap her arms around you tightly. You leaned your head on her shoulder, clinging to her arm with both of yours, sniffling quietly when she began to run her hand over your hair.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. You nodded your head, flickering your eyes up to hers with a soft smile. She saw right through that happy façade you put up, knowing that you were frightened.

She could tell you were running through all the different possibilities that would’ve happened if Spiderman hadn’t shown up, and all of them pretty much ended with you being dropped to the bottom of the high structure.

“Thank you.” She placed a friendly kiss on your forehead, letting you hold onto her as tightly as you needed to. She started a conversation with you to take your mind off it all, and as you laughed at her corny jokes you decided you truly were grateful that she was trying to help.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” she asked. You lifted your head up and nodded, taking the earbud she was holding out to you with a thank you.

You rested your head back on her shoulder as she picked a calming, but happy song to play on her playlist, the same playlist that you’d heard her use countless times when you were together.

Arriving back at Midtown was an amazing feeling for once in your life. You were off the bus almost faster than anyone, running to your mother’s arms where she cradled you against her.

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been so relieved to be holding her baby in her arms, safely. Your mother knew you better than anyone and she could feel the way your body shook as you clinged to her helplessly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, pressing multiple kisses to your temple.

“Me too.”

Your mother spent a few minutes talking to Mr Harrington about what happened on the trip, listening to his countless apologies about putting you in accidental danger.

You spotted Peter with his Aunt, a few metres away, preparing to leave, and you knew you couldn’t let him go without properly thanking him.

You quickly excused yourself and explained to your mother that you were just going to talk to the boy, before you had to weave your way through other parents and students to get to him.

He didn’t notice you at first, not until May nudged him and whispered his name.

He looked up in confusion, his features softening when he saw you standing there with tears brimming your eyes. He opened his arms for you, letting you initiate the hug.

“Thank you,” you cried, practically tackling Peter in a hug. His hand rubbed up and down your back, his other hand holding the back of your head as it tucked into his neck.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he cooed.

May smiled at the two of you, thinking the hug was just some kind of ‘thank god we’re alive’ sort of moment, not a ‘you’re the reason i’m alive’ situation.

“Mj sweetheart, are you ready to go?” She gave one last look to the way you were clinging to Peter, the way he held you and whispered in your ear.

“Yeah, we can go.”

You let go of Peter once your tears had come to a slow stop, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie. He shot you a comforting smile, squeezing your arm.

“Thank you again,” You took a leap of faith and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as a thank you, noticing the way he flushed red. “Spiderman.”

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peter’s girl taglist → @sunsetholland @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @gog0juice @minejungwoo @creatorofthegalaxy @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @bvttercupbby @peterswebshooters @whoeveniskendall @itsallyscorner @hoodpankow @sunwardsss