#shits bout to go down in my docs todays

[bakawitch]

Had a weird dream last night, and now I'm drafting an aro/ace Atem centric fic with a side of Morishipping (couldn't find what tkb x Honda Hiroto is) and Kageyama Risa x Nosaka Miho and some Azureshipping. If anyone knows what these ships are called, please let me know (or if you have literally any ideas what they could be called) XD

[emotionally-creative-rogue]

DOMINATION LINES!!

THANK YOU @caramelcheesegay FOR COMING UP WITH 90% OF THESE, ILY<333

DOMINATED:

Scout:

-“Can’t stun me if you can’t hit me! I’m a freakin’ blur, dipshit!”

-“I am ALWAYS gonna dodge that. When will you LEARN, man?”

-“Oh, oh, oh! I’m STUNNED at how bad you’re doin’!”

Soldier:

-“Don’t swing your puny stick at me, maggot! You come from fake America!!!”

-“I AM IMPERVIOUS TO ALL OF YOUR ATTACKS, SYRUP-SLURPER!”

-“Get off the battlefield and go play some hockey, weakling!”

Demo:

-“Aye, I bet you thought it’d be easy ta kill me, didn’t’che? Well, iaarrghhnnn *snore*.”

-“You call tha’ a grenade?? Me blind Mum farts worse than that wee thing!” 

-“Don’ come a’ me in those ghoulish boots lad, I’ll blast ‘em right offa yer feet!” 

Engie:

-“You’re just a little piece a’ sentry fodder now, aren’t’cha?”

-“You make for some real shitty target practice, son.”

-“Tell me ‘bout those stun grenades sometime, yeah?”

Heavy:

-“Ha! Leetle bug man is crushed. Like bug. Leetle bug. Feed you to Archimedes, Buggy.”

-“Small jumpy man- not Scout? There are two small jumpy men???”

-“You think loud noise and bright light are enough to take down Heavy??? I am killing you now!!”

Medic:

-“Oohoo! Free organs! Young, too!”

-“Ach, that reminds me- I need to feed my birds.”

-“Ohhh, sorry little boy! Go play with your crayons, ja?”

Sniper:

-“Piss off, y’ jumpy git. Bloody grasshopper…”

-“Awh, get quicker next time, won’tcha?” 

-“Dead like a ‘roo on the side o’ the road!”

Spy:

-“For someone named ‘The Rogue’, you are certainly a pack thinker.”

-“Oho! I am *stunned* by your lack of skill!”

-“Not so *Dexx*trous now, hm?”

DOMINATING:

Scout: 

-“No runnin’ in the halls, freshman!”

-“Bonk? More like thonk, eh? ‘Cause that’s the sound your hollow head makes when I hit ya!” 

-“Hah! Too slow!” 

Soldier: 

-“Y'know, a 3" piece of rubber can do a lotta damage, Trench Monkey!”

-“Hah! Oh, I mean- I'm sooo soooorey aboot tha', Bud! (snicker)”

-“A cat on a sloped roof is braver than the entire U.S. Military, Booklicker!” 

Pyro: 

-“Ack! Sorry, Firecracker!” 

-“Oh shit, I think I’m still on fire. Damn it, these were my favorite pants!” 

-“Hey we're, uh, still on for s'mores later... right?”

Demo:

-“Pen's mightier than the sword, cyclops! Get it? 'Cause I'm an artist and you- yeah, nevermind”

-“Someone must have put a little sleepy sauce in your mickeys, bud, ‘cause you are NOT on top of it today!” 

-“Smile and wait for the flash!” 

Heavy:

-“Somebody order ten thousand pounds a’ dead weight? (Snort)” 

-“It’s really hard to miss your pressure points, y’know.” 

-“Move it, ya big lug! You’re in the way!” 

Engineer: 

-“GRENAAAAAADE! I WIN! Ya proud of me, da-uhhh.. dude?” 

-“See ya round, Daaaeengie! I said Engie. Short for Engineer. That is you. You are- I’ll go.” 

-“Bam! And another one down, and another one down! ANOTHER ONE BITES THE BO STAFF!!” 

Medic: 

-“oohohoh, Maybe I can try some experiments on you this time!- Y'know, put your lessons to good use!”

-“Doc, you seriously gotta take care of your health. Damn hypocrite... (Mocking voice) 'Do az I say, not az I do!' my ass!”

-“Guess that's what happens when you don't follow your own advice, thanks for the hands-on lesson!”

Sniper:

-“There, away from the noise now! Just how you like it, Dee!”

-“You may wink at your opponents, but ya gotta take the shot as well, y'know! Can't charm 'em to death!”

-“I just... un-cozied your... camper. I'm having a bad day please be nice.”

Spy:

-“Crisse de connard! -Aheh, not used to gettin' berated in your own language, eh?”

-“Va te faire foutre, merde de con!”

-“Bein Tabarnak, it feels good to turn the tables! Hah, deserved!”

Taunt ideas:

-Using the Bo-Staff as a microphone

-Using the bo-staff as a rifle(making fun of sniper)

-Juggling the stun grenades, almost dropping one and catching it in time before glancing around to see if anyone saw him and putting them away again

OCS:

DOMINATED:

Strat (@emotionally-stressed-strategist):

-“How are you this bad? I’m dominating you with a PEN, Rogue, A PEN.” 

-“Rock, skull. Man down.” 

-“One less dot on the map- don’t come back, yeah?”

Arrow (@emotionally-dead-archer):

-"Hah! Gotcha! Oh, gotta love a little sibling rivalry, am I right?"

-“Bigger sibling? Not really.”

-“Hey! My aim is getting better! Thanks for the target practice!”

DOMINATING:

Strat:

-“I’m done bein’ your wingman if you keep this up.”

-“That’s what happens when you steal my art supplies!”

-“How do you still not have ink poisoning? Dude, seriously.”

Arrow:

-“There! I make for a pretty good role model! You get to see my stuff first-hand!”

-“You're adopted. Sorry.”

-“I think it's almost bedtime, kiddo.”

Jet (@emotionally-broken-robot):

-"Hey, uh, does this count as Softwaregore?"

[stiles-wilkolak]

I didn't usually post my personal life much, but I feel the need to share this part since it's been a struggle for most of my life.

I've had a plethora of issues including joint pain, partial dislocations, headaches, anihidrosis, severe heat intolerance, random bouts of nausea, IBS, ulcers, bleeding issues, sensitivity to certain meds like antibiotics and pain meds and SSRI meds,just a bunch of weird shit, right?

Some I dismissed as blood pressure issues since I've had chronically high blood pressure, some cuz of my hemophilia.

My new doc is incredible, he was just for my ADHD but has become my doc for everything cuz he listens, genuinely, and takes my opinions and suggestions seriously.

I came in a few months ago with joint pain, mostly hip, so severe I couldn't lift my left leg, so he got me some steroid shots and ordered tests. All we're neg, some low vitamins and usual shit like low kidney health. He's been trying to figure what direction to go in next. I stumbled across an information video on EDS, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome and started researching it.

Today I broke down and got wrist braces, joint pain has gotten worse in my wrists and shoulders.

Brought up EDS to my doc yesterday and he was excited, "this could really be what's happening! I've been thinking autoimmune or autonomic dysfunction as well so we're on the same page!" So my doc is gonna help me see if Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is the source of my issues, it would explain all the weirdness. And with my family having hemophilia and van willebrands and POTs it's really not a far stretch.

He also thinks I've had POTs my whole life and it went undiscovered cuz I assumed the symptoms were from the high blood pressure and had shite doctors before who dismissed my symptoms any time I tried to ask.

It's so nice having a doctor listen and take my opinions and suggestions seriously.

A good doctor makes all the difference.

Poor guy, he always is so tired and still does his best to help me.

[bullshit-bulltrue]

☆ hawk talk 8/17/23 ☆

today wasn't the best day per se

um so as i was getting out of the car to go to school i spilled my coffee all over my pants and my fucking DOC MARTENS

but my dad got my water bottle and a towel and wiped em up

and the coffee got on my bag too.. i want to cry bc it's stained

but it gives character so whatever

and like i act like i'm completely fine until i'm out of the view range of my parents and i cussed repeatedly very loud and it was therapeutic

and then uh what else happened

*thinky face*

oh YEAH

so there's like this ledge by the front of the school like a brick wall thingy that goes just above my waist and i put my water bottle and bag there

and then i put my earbuds in and listen to music to keep myself from wanting to die

and then ben walks up to me and i just like blurt out "God i hope i don't smell like coffee" AND IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING BC I DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY IT,, I WAS JUST THINKIJG IT TO MYSELF AND THEN I WAS LIKE FUCK SHIT NO

and he looked so caught off guard 😭😭

and he was like "uhh no"

so then i was like well fuck i can't just ask someone if i smell like coffee and give them no context 😭😭

so then i tell him about my dumbassery and he sees the coffee stain on my thigh and he's like "ohh yikes. but no, you can't smell it"

but like i'm self conscious so i stil sprayed some perfume bc i dont wanna smell like coffee which was 99% creamer because my FUCKING MOM DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO FUCKING DRING THE DAMN BEVERAGE

so yeah i'm making my own coffee from now on fuck her

anyway

a beetle that i thought was a cicada turned out to be,, yk a beetle started flying around my head and i was like "aww it's so pretty" BC IT WAS

LITERALLY LIKE A MIX OF BLUE AND GREENISH AND IT WAS SO COOL

but like ig my face didn't say that?? idk i flinch a lot without meaning to

and he's like "do you want me to kill it?" so like ig my face was scared or smth idk 😭😭

and just for shits and giggles i was like "yeah sure"

AND THIS DORK SERIOUSLY STARTED JUMPING AND TRYING TO CATCH IT

and then after a while he just gave up and let out a sigh that was like yeah fuck that bug

oh and then he offered me some gum ♡

it was Extra: Peppermint

i'm a spearmint girlie but Extra gum is Extra gum, i will never turn it down

and idk if he offered me some out of kindness or if he remembered that mints and mint gum help me with anxiety

and ik for sure my breath didn't smell so it wouldn't be that either

idk i'm trying not to over analyze everything that happens but i am strUggling right now lmao

so anyway we walk into the building and he asked me if i eat the school breakfast (we were coming up to the cafeteria ish)

and i'm like "no i'm not hungry in the mornings" yk, like a liar

and here's how the rest of the interaction went: (m = me, b = ben)

b: really?

m: yeah idk i just don't really pay attention to when i'm hungry i guess? like i don't really notice when my stomach is empty anymore (this was actually the truth)

b: then how do you know when you need to eat?

m: when i get lightheaded.

b: wha- well what if you get lightheaded during class? we aren't allowed to eat during class periods.

m: i eat a mint or sneak some gum

b: *still doesn't understand all the way but sorta gets it*

b: yeah i get that. if the food is bad i just get the juice (talking bout school breakfast) well, see ya later! *goes into the mess hall*

m: yeah, bye!

(that wasn't our entire convo, i'm too lazy to put everything in)

and then i sorta just went into this one little corner to wait until they let us into the hallway buildings

and then i popped my earbuds back in and started to vibe to rock and then i sorta start singing to myself

and then guess what

THAT'S WHEN I REALIZE

HE FUCKING WAS LIKE SAYING "hey let's get breakfast" (again, i was too lazy to type out rhe whole convo and didn't add in vital parts bc laziness and my tummy hurts)

SO I BASICALLY

FUCKING WAS LIKE YEAH NO I'M GOOD

LIKE BRO

IT WOULD'VE BEEN SO MUCH EASIER IF YOU. JUST. ASKED.

but like also i get it so it's not that big of a deal

so right in the middle of my angry posting on tumblr and kicking myself for being oblivious till the last minute,, it turns out HE WAITS IN THE SAME CORNER UNTIL THE STAFF LETS US IN THE HALLWAYS

SO YEAH THAT WAS AWKWARD

CUS I WAS HATING ON MYSELF, SAD OVER MY SPILT COFFEE, CHEWING MY GUM, AND ALSO JAMMING TO A ROCK PLAYLIST

fr hoping he didn't see my emotional roller-coaster that would be hella embarrassing

so yea

and then like him and his friends started playfighting and like bro it was lowkey hilarious

so anyway i go into the building, i get to science

and one of my science projects partners isn't there

so thats fucking great

so the partner that is there, let's call her Emers, does the drawing portion of the project while i did the writing

and yeah

i'm like not going in too much detail bc i have to get this hawk talk done quick bc i have to wake up at 5am tmrw and it's already 11:23pm

and i don't wanna look like a zombie in english bc the people at my table will be facing my sleep deprived bitchy mood

so anyway

i get done with science after a while

and then it's math

i am missing my first 3 assignments and currently have an F <3

so fun 😍

/sarc,, for the dumbasses who just started following me

um nothing interesting happened

oh WAIT

LANIE GOT BACK FROM VISITING FAMILY!! AND WHILE ON HER TRIP SHE STARTED READING MY COPY OF THE OUTSIDERS THAT I LENDED HER !!!!!!!!!!¡!!!!!¡! (i don't care if that was an unreasonable amount of exclamation points, i am happy)

AND I ALSO INITIATED A HUG WITH HER

FUCK THE NO PDA RULE

I'M HUGGING MY FRIEND

FUCK THE AMERICAN EDUCATION SYSTEM

so yeah ♡

and then i had to eat lunch by myself

but then guess who i see?

*suspenseful mid 1950s detective film music starts playing in the background*

i see ben.

i was not happy.

he told me earlier that he didn't have 1st lunch on even days. AND THERE HE WAS. HAVING 1ST LUNCH ON GUESS WHICH DAY? AN EVEN ONE.

and like if you don't want me eating lunch with you and your friends everyday you can literally just say that . like dude there's literally no reason to lie

so then i told my friend rik about it and he's fr such the best hype man cus he was like yeah screw him don't make yourself worry about that shit

and i was like FUCK YEAH

YOU'RE RIGHT MAN

and then lunch ended

and i went to broadcast and wanted to cry and yeah if you saw the other little posts thru out the day you know why and shit lol

too tired to explain

so then science lab!

well the science and science lab rooms are connected so when i was 100% done with my science project essay i went to the science room and i saw ben

and then after asking the science teacher smth i went back to the science lab room

and i sorta just yk sat there being sad for a while bc i have no friends in that class and i started talking to my teacher bc i always sit close to her desk

yes, i am that student. i sit by the teacher, and this is why i have no real friends.

aanYwaUys-

Ben comes in the room and is just like oh i just wanted to see who's here

bitch go do your work

but i acted nice because nobody at school knows that i'm a bitch

and i'm like oh hi!

and then i just listen to my music while i try to take a nap bc my science lab teacher is cool like that

and yeah that's my whole sad day for you guys <3

[curiousbadger]

I accidently kinda made a fanfic?

Richie: *Eddie calling* HellOs, SpaghettiOs!

Eddie: Hey…can you help me?

Richie: Sure, did you forget something?

Eddie: No, I'm-I'm still here.

Richie: Why are you calling me then?

Eddie: I'm in the backyard.

Richie: *Looks outside* Where? I don't see you.

Eddie: *Heavy sigh*Just come out.

Richie: *Walking to the backyard* But I already did that, ‘member our wedding? I don't know what's gonna top that. Unless. If you got some time I could top y-

Eddie: Richie! Will you fucking look up, dickwad!!

Richie: Ahaha! Okay, okay. What's up doc--

Eddie: *Mortified and stuck really high in a tree*

Richie: Eds, what the fuck are you doing up there?!?

Eddie: What's it look like I'm stuck!!

Richie: Yeah, no shit but why are you up there!?

Eddie: I-*mumble* *mumble* *mumble*

Richie: What??

Eddie: Don't make me say it again!

Richie: You actually have to say something before there can be an again!

Eddie: Fine, FUCK! I SAW A FUCKING BIRD AND WHEN FLEW UP IN THE TREE I CHASED IT OKAY!! I FUCKING CHASED IT!!

Richie: *Holding in laugh unsuccessfully* Why don't you just climb down?

Eddie: Oh wow, why didn't I think of that?- DUMBASS! Cats can't climb down trees!

Richie: *More so to himself in a quieter voice* Oh yeah, that's why firefighters exist.

Richie: Do you want me to call the firefight-

Eddie: NO! No, can you get me down? We have a ladder that's tall enough to reach up here.

Richie: We do??

Eddie: Yes. I thought there might be a chance this would happen, so in the likelihood if it did happen we would be prepared.

Richie: *Biggest fucking smirk*

Eddie: Shut up! Go get the ladder!

Richie: Sure thing! Be right back, my fiery little manx!

~Cut to Richie up on the ladder~

Richie: Hey, how ya doin’?

Eddie: *claws out and sticking in the tree with an iron grip* Not great, asshole.

Richie: Ahh, come on, Eds. Hang in there.

Eddie: …

Richie: *eyebrow wiggle*

Eddie: …

Eddie: Get me down.

Richie: *Salutes* Yes, sir! Okay, come on. *Offers hand*

Eddie: …

Richie: *Wiggles fingers*Grab my hand and let's get a goin’.

Eddie: I am, hold on.

Richie: Okay, take your time.

Eddie: Thank you.

Eddie: …

Eddie: …

Eddie: …

Richie: Eds?

Eddie: Hm?

Richie: Are you worried you're gonna fall?

Eddie: *Long sigh* yes.

Richie: Hey, that's okay. Cats always land on their feet.

Eddie: *Low throat cat growl*

Richie: Sorry, sorry. But come on, it was right there.

Eddie: *Louder cat throat growl*

Richie: *Stifling a laugh* Sorry. Again. Would it be all right if I…*Makes a little scratching motion with his hand and gestures to the back of Eddie neck*

Eddie: ...fine

*Richie starts giving Eddie scritches on the back of his neck. Then he moves to Eddie’s favorite spots to be scritched. Eddie leans into it, his eyes now closed. Eventually his claws retract and he starts to purr. He smiles and looks at Richie.*

Richie: Better?

Eddie: Yeah, thanks.

Richie: How ‘bout you shift and I carry you down that way?

Eddie: Rich, that form’s way too big for you to carry down a ladder.

Richie: …Hun?

Eddie: Yeah?

Richie: Your house cat form.

Eddie: Oh! Yeaaaah.

Richie: *chuckles* God, I love you.

Eddie: *Red faced* Yeah, love you too or whatever. Let’s go!

Richie: *Gives Eddie a quick, soft kiss (and, duh, Eddie kissed back)* You got it, pussycat!

*After rolling his eyes; Eddie shifts into a warm chocolate colored brown cat that has a darker colored marking above each eye, making it look like he has two thick eyebrows. Once Eddie feels safe in Richie’s hold, they make it safely down, and this was suppose to be way shorter, what the fuck happened?* The End

(And don’t think about Eddie’s clothes, okay? Thank you)

(Still more to come but way later because I blacked out and did this instead of anything I needed to do today!)

🔥+Werecat Eddie

WERECAT EDDIE? WOOOOW I LOVE THIS…after that cat motif post i reblogged the other day i am so on the eddie feline symbolism train

not a hot take i just had never heard of this before and am enthralled

send me a 🔥 + topic for a hot take!

[thechanelmuse]

In 1912, Willa and Charles Bruce bought a parcel of land in Manhattan Beach. They operated a lodge, cafe, and dance hall on the property. It was a refuge for Black beachgoers to enjoy a weekend away. The area became known as Bruce’s Beach.

But the couple were harassed and threatened by white neighbors and members of the Ku Klux Klan. By 1924, city officials condemned the property and forced the Bruces to sell and leave, robbing future members of the Bruce family of generational wealth from the land. (x)

Did I mention it’s worth $20 million today? The descendants of the Bruce’s agreed to rent the property to the county for $413,000 per year 🥴. Terrorized and a fucking shakedown of yo shit...and that’s the price upon which you agreed to? Absolutely not. They wildin. 

I’ve been so focused on putting the complete puzzle of my lineage together, getting to know my people on paper from waaaaay back that I haven’t even gotten fully into the land deets and other docs that won’t be on genealogy sites, like Ancestry or Family Search. We talking microfilms. I have to go to 4 different states for them...so far. 

The way I’m bout to get these documents together and people gon come TF off my land and pay... 

Let’s not forget Black Americans owned 15 million acres of land that's gone down to just 1 million acres today because of terror and/or lynchings that led to theft and a shift of wealth. 

I know one guy whose family owned a whole Sea Island in South Carolina that was taken from them and another who found the documents for his and discovered that a whole ass Walmart is on his land. Chile...Buckle up, buttercup. It’s time to go.

[clocks-are-round]

Single Life PSA

Simmons: I’m Dick Simmons from popular web series Red vs Blue.

Grif: And I’m Dexter Grif from the same show.

Simmons: Today we’re talking about the single life.

Grif: Yeah. There’s nothing wrong with being forever alone in romance. Plus it gives you an excuse to talk about pringles. Mmm pringles.

Simmons: Yeah, like you need an excuse to talk about food.

Tucker: Give it a rest, you two. We all know you’ve been dating for years.

Simmons: Whh- No we haven’t! Besides, Grif is straight!

Grif: Uh, actually I’m gay. Huh. You’d think that would’ve come up at some point. Y’know, after the intentional closeting the first few years we knew each other. But yeah, no. Simmons is the straight one.

Simmons: I’m— I’m not straight either. I’m bi.

*Grif and Simmons just stare silently at each other*

*cut to Tucker and Donut*

Tucker: Right, so we totally forgot to finish this PSA after Simmons and Grif proposed to each other on the spot, got hitched the next day, and are now on their honeymoon.

Donut: I’m so happy for them! Oh oh, we should show the footage of the proposal! It was still recording when it happened.

*back to the initial staring at each other scene*

Simmons: *gets down on one knee awkwardly* Do you want to— fuck. I mean, will you—

Grif: Wanna get married?

Simmons: —no pressure if you don’t want to— marry— FUCK I DON’T HAVE A RING!

Grif: I’ll take that as a yes. Cool.

Simmons: *flustered* Huh? Oh. Oh! Yeah, cool. Awesome sauce.

*Grif walks off and camera follows*

Grif: *now far away from the initial location* OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT

*back to Tucker and Donut*

Donut: So sweet. I hope I’ll find that special someone one day! We’d be excited to see each other all the time and do each other... ‘s nails, and—

Tucker: Yeah, nobody cares. But, speaking of sweet, Grif gave him a ring pop for an engagement ring and Simmons started sobbing like it was a goddamn diamond. I gotta admit they’re a pretty cute couple. Pretty sure I called it back in Blood Gulch.

Donut: Oh and the wedding was great! Everyone was there! I got to be in charge of setup and it looked fab-u-lous! Even though they said no to the glitter, disco ball, and spotlights.

*pretty outdoor casual wedding set up. Lots of flowers. Two food tables, same size, one with a sign that says “Grif’s” and the other saying “everyone else’s” all the reds and blues, Carolina, Wash, Chorus peeps, and even Huggins is there*

Huggins: *to Kai* Oh my gosh!! I can’t believe they’re finally getting married!

Kai: I know, right! ‘Bout time those bitches tied the knot. I love that for them. You looking forward to the flower toss?

Huggins: You’d better catch that bouquet for us, *silly voice* ‘cause I got no hands!

Kai: God, I love your shiny ass. We should have our own afterparty after this. I wanna bone tonight!

Huggins: Shh, Kai! There are children here!

*camera turns to show caboose is there*

Caboose: Ah, don’t worry sparkle-light-shiny-person.

Huggins: My name is Huggins.

Caboose: ah yes, I like hugs, too. But, yeah, Tucker’s child isn’t really a child anymore. He’s all grown up. So I don’t think you will be a bad influence by wanting a bone. I like to chew on stuff sometimes too. Mostly cardboard. Anyway, I’m gonna go *flatly* ask people some questions. I’m still trying to figure out whose birthday it is. *leaves*

Doc: Hey, sorry I’m late! I think there was a mix up; I never got an invitation.

O’Malley: Right, and it definitely would have nothing to do with our rocky relationship with Grif. Or the fact that no one seems to remember we exist.

Doc: Hey, it’s a wedding! Don’t make this about us!

*back to Tucker and Donut*

Tucker: Damn, this is the most wholesome PSA we’ve ever done. Is it even a PSA anymore? We didn’t give any advice.

Donut: That’s probably for the better.

*quick cut to montage of scenes from the wedding with music playing*

[mintmatcha]

10 Months

Matsukawa and Hanamaki

Part One

CW: mentions of death and illness, ANGST

Today’s just another day at work. Someone’s dead and someone else is talking about it. 

The worst part of the job, Mattsun decides, isn’t consoling the grieving or dealing with the aftermath of death: it’s listening to these shitty, repetitive speeches. There’s only so many times a man can hear about God’s plan and how much better someone is now that they’ve entered the great beyond before he goes numb. Sure, yes, logically, he understands this is all sad, but before all else?

 It’s boring.

Has he always been this bitter? Has he always been this good at choking down his feelings? Probably.

Mattsun looks away from the speaker at the front of the room, who's droning on about some shit while practically draped over the coffin. He does a precursory scan across the room, making sure everyone was properly teary eyed and mourning, before pulling out his phone. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but it doesn’t matter. No one’s looking at the funeral director during these things. If they were, it was something for them to discuss later during the reception.

'Did you see that employee?' 

'No, I was crying.'

'He was on his phone!'

'How horrible!'

Just before he can open Twitter, a glimpse of unforgettable, bright strawberry blonde hair catches his eye. For a moment, he ignores it off. He’s used to imagining things, used to his brain searching for hints of pink wherever he goes. He's used to turning his head to see it was a trick of the eye.

But this time the color doesn’t fade. Instead, it comes into focus, catching the light that pours through the stained glass windows, rainbows painted across pale skin. All at once, the presence becomes real, and Mattsun feels like he’s seen a ghost.

Not a literal one, but, fuck, he might as well be.

It’s been years since he’s seen Makki, longer since they actually talked, but there he was, standing at the back of the parlor with an obituary in hand. He loathes himself for the way excitement bubbles inside him and his heart gets caught in his throat… and then immediately drops as he processes why Makki would be here. He tries to remember the last name of the deceased, hoping the last name wouldn’t be familiar. Makki’s dad was never in good health, could it be-

No, he definitely would have recognized anyone else with the last name Hanamaki.

That’s when it hits him that Makki isn’t dressed for the funeral. In a sea of black, he’s wearing some raggedy sweatshirt with coffee split down the sleeve and a loose pair of jeans, ripped in all the wrong places. Frankly, he looks like shit, but he’s just leaning against the door frame, standing there like he belongs, with a tiny little grin on his face. 

Makki never looks over, too involved in the speech, but he’s aware of Mattsun’s presence. His torso is angled to face his old friend, chest broad and inviting. Mattsun hates that after all these years, he can still read his body language and understand what it means. It’s an invitation to come over.

Mattsun has to stop himself from going over there. Time has passed, he’s made his choices. He can’t just drop his work for an old friend.

No, not a friend. Stranger adjacent. 

He’s made his choices. 

He stays where he should be, in the corner, for what feels like hours, autopiloting through the rest of the service. By the time it’s all over, and the lights are dimmed, Makki’s already gone.

Mattsun hates that he knows exactly where to find him.

.

.

They find each other behind the parlor, wedged between the building and the dumpster. Makki’s sitting on the curb, legs folded up under him and pressed into his chest. That signature smile hasn’t faded, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He pats the empty space next to him, but Mattsun just shakes his head and stays standing. 

“Just like high school, huh?” Makki says, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pouch. He taps the bottom four times,  then shakes it, hard. Waking up the cancer, making sure it’s out of bed, he used to joke. 

“Except we aren’t hiding from teachers anymore.” Mattsun kicks at a crumpled soda can and watches it bounce across the asphalt. “And you’ve changed brands.”

“Now we’re hiding from your boss.” Makki pulls a stick out and waves it, “And Iwaizumi’s not here to bitch about it.”

“Dude,” Mattsun tries not to sigh, but it sneaks out. The casual act was unsettling; Makki was pretending that past 3 years never happened. “I’m happy to see you and all, but I’m working right now.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Makki pats his pockets frantically, then pulls out a small pink lighter. It's not the same pink as his hair, but it's close. He brushes it against his pants, back then forward, opening it and lighting it in one smooth motion. He holds out the cigarette, twirling it between his fingers, “Help me light this, why don’t you?”

Mattsun blanches, scoffing in annoyance at the thought. There's the flash of a memory, Hiro's fingers against his lips, holding the cigarettes for him as he breathes in, skinned knees brushing against each other, but he pushes it down.

 “Hanamaki, I-”

“I’ve been demoted to just Hanamaki, huh?” he places it between his teeth and sets it alight, sucking in until the end glows orange. He holds still, savoring the moment, then lets out his breath, smoke seeping out through his teeth. “So, it turns out that I need to plan a funeral.”

Mattsun lets his apathy break, just for a moment. He runs his hands through his hair, completely fucking up the slicked back style as he processes this.  “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be.” Makki shrugs, “Not the end of the world.”

Mattsun blinks, trying to shake off the initial shock. He just lets his work persona take over. “Well, we would be happy to help you plan. We can scheduling for next week in my office, if you want-”

“There’s no rush, don’t worry.” Makki leans back and faces the sun. Even though he’s sitting on the ground, no more than 5 feet from garbage, he seems so peaceful. 

“Who’s it for?” Mattsun asks the obvious question and Makki grins wider, like he’s been waiting for this moment. He waggles his fingers in the air, like he’s celebrating.

“Me.” Makki says. He rolls his head forward and that pleasant air about him fades. It strikes Mattsun that he’s lost weight since high school; his already sharp features are more sullen, sunken into his face. “I’m dying.”

How hadn’t he noticed earlier? He spent so much time looking at Hiro in high school, so much time studying his features…. How could he miss such a dramatic change? Even now, he can remember exactly how the curve his cheek felt under his thumb, how smooth his skin was. Mattsun doesn’t realize he’s sitting until loose gravel bites into the palms of his hands.

“Fuck, dude.” he can only look straight ahead, focusing on nothing, “Are--- are you sure?”

“As sure as medical science can get,” he has the audacity to laugh, “I got brain cancer.”

Brain cancer. Mattsun knows what that means in a vague sense and yet it means almost nothing to him. Questions bubble up in his mind, all of them swimming around, begging for any sort of information to make this all make sense. 

"How long?" He wanted to ask anything else, but that’s the only sentence he could form.

" 'bout 7 inches.” Makki pauses for affect, “Oh, you meant how long do I have left to live?" he's grinning wildly at his own joke, waiting for Mattsun to react. When he doesn't he just takes another drag of his cigarette, smile never fading. "I thought it was funny.”

"It was a little funny." Mattsun relents, gesturing for the butt. It's passed with brushing fingers, knuckle against knuckle. It's been years since he's smoked- since third year of high school- but each pull still burns all the same. "How long?"

"Well, two months ago they told me I had years," he says, like it's nothing, "But the doc did a rescan and it's way worse than they thought.” He taps his temple,  “Apparently, three lil fuckers in there."

"How long?" Mattsun can’t stop repeating himself.

"10 months." he wobbles his hand side to side, “Give or take.”

Mattsun takes another drag, harder this time. It’s unfair that he’s this upset about it, that this isn’t just another funeral to him.

“Whoa, don’t hog the whole thing!” Makki grabs for his cigarette, opening and closing his hand like a small child, “You’ll get cancer from these, you know? ”

Mattsun doesn’t laugh. He just watches the ember fall on to his slacks. They flare of a quick moment before dying, leaving  little discolored burns in their wake.

“Both of us can’t get cancer- it’d be like wearing the same dress to a party. So embarrassing.” he finally just snatches it out of Mattsun’s hand, “So, are you going to help me?”

“H-help you.” he repeats back. Nothing that’s happening right now feels real.

“With my funeral. Duh.”

“You want me to plan your service?” Mattsun asks.

“Well, us. Not just you. Duh.”

Duh. 

“Why?” Mattsun breaths and yet he feels like he’s suffocating, “Why me? After everything I did-”

“I don’t want my dad to worry about it.” Makki kisses his teeth and pulls himself into a ball,  “He almost had a heart attack trying to figure out my mom’s and I …. I just don’t want him to worry.” Makki breathes out through his nose- it’s how he dispels negativity in his life, just like how he did in high school. “Besides, if I plan it, it doesn’t have to be some fucking boring ass pity party. We can make it fun. A fun-eral.”

These all just seem like words. There’s meaning behind them, sure, but they don’t seem to mean anything when they’re strung together like this. Mattsun wonders if this is shock, or some weird form of it. He’s seen it before, in the eyes of family’s blindly choosing and planning. He always thought they dumb, not knowing how to react, not knowing if they should be sad or angry or …. Something. 

But he gets it now. The news doesn’t always sink in.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits after a long moment, “I don’t… I don’t think I’m processing this.”

Makki pushes off of the curb and stands, brushing off dust from his pants. “I get it. It’s a lot to hear.” he flashes a peace sign over his shoulder as he starts down the alley, “Think about it and get back to me.” A thin puff of smoke curls into the air, “My number’s the same as it always was.”

Mattsun sits there, hidden between the dumpster and his work, and tries to process as he watches Makki walk out of his life once again.

[onebizarrekai]

I went on an unfiltered positive soapbox rant in a doc about green oak last night at 1am

please note that I usually post with moderation on my language but this rant does not have this

I have to give you the original. I have to

yo it’s almost 1 in the fucking morning and I played pokemon for 4 fucking hours today and I’m gonna ramble about GARY FUCKING OAK

LISTEN CAREFULLY. ok listen

to start off my ted talk with something partially irrelevant, I cannot get over the fact that green and gary are almost 2 very distinct personalities. they have similarities, but in my head, green has a genuine capacity to be personally malicious, while gary exists for the sole purpose of being as much of a chad as possible

scale of oak: <————————————————> emo bitch         smartass       tax fraud (manga)             (game)              (show)

(I haven’t read the manga in like 10 years and I’m having these vague recollections and I’m like whoa god. I forgot that red and green didn’t know each other in the manga they were literally strangers it’s so weird also they were ALL SO YOUNG)

so basically, gary is a hilarious fucking character whom cade (my brother) and I have distorted beyond belief by making him a rich snob and making endless tax history jokes, and green oak, green fucking oak, is a much more elaborate human being.

real character development as a real life person is growing up and realizing that green is your favorite pokemon character, and not just because he’s comically an asshole and easily mockable, it’s also because he goes through so much fucking implicit character development and it’s VERY IMPORTANT AND COOL.

call it extra and biased but fuck off. no character in pokemon has ever gotten more character development than green oak, and not seeing any of it happen on screen is actually really interesting.

pokemon isn’t generally about character development beyond the dialogue you see on the screen. I mean, apparently it’s little enough about the story that sword and shield completely bailed on the idea of actually having a fucking story, even though sun and moon had a pretty decent one. ANYWAY, green oak is such a fucking cool character because there’s so much room for speculation, and I’m gonna go on a list of reasons why everything about this is neat.

1. he is the only character whom you actually see change in a pokemon game off camera and between long timespans, to my recollection. the only thing to compare this to is the transition between the two fifth gen stories, and while my memory is foggy since I only played black 2 once, I don’t remember any of the characters in that game changing much at all. maybe cheren became less of a dick, whatever. no one cares because he has absolutely no subtext.

2. red is the only protagonist in pokemon history who has made a second appearance. red is a real fucking person, a real pokemon character, and isn’t just a convenient fill-in for the player who gets thrown away after the game is over (LOOKING AT YOU, BLACK 2 AND WHITE 2). green’s relationship to red, no matter how damaged, is a real thing, and a real story element. this is never done in any other pokemon game. green is the only rival whose story continues after the game is over because his counterpart continues to exist.

3. the context of the game. after green barreled through the entirety of kanto, talking red down all the while, and then becoming champion, he gets beaten by red once and for all and his dream of being champion is torn right out of his hands moments after being obtained. everything green cared about is taken away from him by the person he was always mean to. karma, bitch.

so green becomes the 8th gym leader. it doesn’t take two moments of thinking about this to understand how much he doesn’t want this. it’s like, settling for 6th best after your dream job falls through, since nobody knows how the structure of the elite four works.

to top it all off, red RUNS THE FUCK AWAY TO A GODFORSAKEN MOUNTAIN. he takes everything away from green, shatters his world, and then won’t even take the dream that green wanted. can you imagine how mad he’d be about that? green is already having an existential crisis about his behavior problems, he doesn’t need this fucking bullshit. somehow lance becomes the new champion meanwhile even though he’s an elite four member. you’d think green would at least take his place, or something. the amount that I’m confused about this is probably also applies to green. there’s a chance that green rejected the position of champion due to being defeated by red right away, and all the shame he got, but even so, it undoubtably would have taken a toll on him.

finally, here’s the kicker. in spite of all this, green doesn’t make it his business to end the world or some shit. in spite of this, he becomes a better person. green fucking oak has a fucking soul. also, it’s been a VERY long time since I’ve played all of soulsilver, but does green ever complain about red being isolated on mt silver? maybe that’s wishful thinking.

final bout: after years and years, green and red arrive in alola together as grownass men. red came down from the fucking mountain, and green is the one he came to the islands with. this implication of reconcile is so FUCKING IMPORTANT because of what these two have been through for like, the last 20 years.

you cannot POSSIBLY look at this like it’s not a big deal. like, they didn’t just “grow up and get over it.” red had to kick green aside to become the champion (which is still such a fucking good conclusion for the game, like, thinking back on it having a rival who’s a dick to you for the whole game and then destroying his life is grimly poetic), RAN AWAY TO A MOUNTAIN and gave up the title, indicating to green that it didn’t even matter to him (whether he meant that or not, whatever, running away to a mountain is fucking stupid), and in spite of all this, they ended up reconciling. they reconciled. green could have been mad at red for the rest of his life for destroying his dream, regardless of how he treated red when they were younger. maybe green figured that he still had a shot at becoming champion again, but maybe that’s the point. he continues to want to be stronger than red but doesn’t let it carry into how he treats people anymore.

I’m curious, though. what really happened? did red and green put it all behind them? did they deem there someone to blame? did red just become the champion to get back at green after all, and then ran away because he didn’t know how to live with it? or did he run away because it truly didn’t matter to him? or did red become the champion purely out of his own self goals and wasn’t even thinking about green? if so, why did he run away? so many things to think about.

anyway, tldr, green has been through more character development than any other pokemon character and I adore him

also. where the fuck is gold. he defeated red and then ceased to exist

update: in heartgold and soulsilver, green doesn’t seem to know where red is, but in some of his dialogue over call, he tells you that you “remind him of someone” and he mumbles dejectedly about red before hanging up

[sublime-gyro-whore]

Sweet as sugar (2)

Warnings- cursing, ED mentions, drugs alcohol,

I fucking love this man

"my god how many red lights are there" Nikki growled holding onto you so you didn't bash open your head, as you two started moving again he set you down near Tommy going to sit with Vince..... You watched as he nudged Nikki and wispered in his ear "I'll keep an eye on them at the after party don't worry" Tommy said after seeing the worry on her face "won't you be scoring or getting high?" "Fucking uhhh..drums..?" "I'm consered about you and your family" the two of you busted out in laughing not seeing Nikki glare at you two "say babe" he hissed making you look up towards the tall man "I think Mick needed to talk Tommy how about you come sit over here with me n' Vince" you blushed lightly as you say on his lap feeling his arms snake around me

-

As the pair of you two got settled in you where soon interrupted when you felt a large hand on your hip pulling you agent a large frame "n-" "shh angle we have a few hours until the show starts let me take care of you.." "I've never done anything like this before though Nik" "it's okay I'll teach you" he groaned into your neck

"fuck baby you look amazing like this.." he grinned throwing your shirt in the corner quickly undoing his belt and kicking off his leather leggings and plunging into you "mhmph!" You gasped in pain as he stretched you out. He slowly pulled and fastly swinged himself in "good girl" he groaned "hahh.. daddy" you mewled clawing at his back "ahm!" "Shh we don't want doc hearing us now do we?" He rubbed small circles into your hips moving a thumb up to your clit "Nikki! I'm gonna cu-cum!" You sobbed and began chanting his name "shi- you're so tight" he groaned shutting you up with a kiss "Nikki?" shit that was doc's voice "just a second" he panted "Nikki" his voice was more firm this time "I said just a fucking second" he yelled facing towards the door "we must be starting early sorry babe" he chuckled "looks like I'm going on stage shirtless maybe I'll show you off like a prize show everyone who gave me these scratchs" he bucked his hips a few more times before you felt yourself being filled up to the brim. "Fuck look my cum leak out of you s'cute" he tugged on his pants and put his jewelry and belt back on "be a good girl and come watch the show hm?" He asked watching you hafehazerldy put your clothes on and stumbled over to him letting him lead you

____________

The show was great but something caught you off guard "this song like most Was written by Nikki motherfuckin' Sixx but this was written for his girl so (y/n) if you're here this one's for you!" Vince yelled as the crowd cheered "how about she gives you guys a warm welcome like she did with me a few seconds prior" Nikki nugged Vince with his elbow "no wonder these claw marks on your back "Is that why you have claw marks on your back" "guys come on if you keep talking like that she'll just leave!" Tommy grinned "ah fine fine say how bout we start the song before they get tired and leave"

Now listen up

She's a razor sharp

If she don't get her way

She'll slice you apart

Now she's a cool, cool black

She moves like a cat

If you don't get her name

Well, you might not make it back..

When the song came to an end you must have been a blushing mess when the song ended "WE'RE MÖTLEY CRÜE!" Vince yelled to the cheering onslaught of people "pretty cool to have a mötley crüe song decided to you huh?" You looked up meeting Nikki's eyes "yea" you breathed blush swept your face making Nikki's pants grow tighter "fuck" he mumbled "you two gonna stop making out and go make sure you have anything so we can get on the bus and finally go home" Mick groaned annoyed

___________________________

"so anything exciting happen today (nickname)" Tommy leaned in as you say on Nikki's lap (not like you had a choice there where so little seats not filled with trash or a duffle bag) "yea! Nikki made a song for me!" You giggled curling up into said man "didn't you give Nikki a *blow* of luck before the show?" "Blow of.. huh?" You felt Nikki's left arm roll over your waist and his firm hand on your thigh "man shut it T-bone it's not like she's gonna give you one" Nikki shifted and laughed "maybe if Tommy didn't let it slip I could have gotten one" Vince laughed making Nikki hold you tighter "like I'd even give you the time of day to have a conversation with me" you huffed going to hold his other hand "do we have any food I'm hungry" you grumbled..sure be it that you may have not had the slimist waist even if you weren't overweight so it gave Nikki the perfect thighs to squeeze you still didn't like it though to be fair when you where younger your family mainly older sister would body shame you and had made you have on off anorexia.... "Mhm we'll be stopping in LA soon" Mick said trying his best not to doze off again

[vtforpedro]

health update- long post

so we are still trying to figure out all my health shit. I just now started to lose a couple pounds again but still feeling bloated and crampy every day. my right arm looks slightly swollen and hurts + my purple nail beds that literally sparked this entire thing way back on dec 20th, 2019 or w/e that no doctor has acknowledged have gotten darker and now clearly noticeable to other people. been seeing it for nearly 16 months myself but I stopped asking after like a year cause they ~couldn't see it~ in bright ass medical offices and didn't bother investigating further cause You Seem Anxious™ n e ways, I had to call the paramedics on march 29th cause I got so lethargic I felt like someone had drugged me. could barely sit up, speech was slow, could NOT open my eyes, felt like it was hard to breathe. took me three minutes to stand up with a paramedic's help AND I knew if I tried to walk I'd fall. almost fell twice in a row a week beforehand, tho the fatigue wasn't as severe. sorry if I've mentioned this already I don't fucking have any brainpower anymore to remember what I've talked about and haven't have experienced two more bouts of sudden, extreme lethargy, the pain/swelling in my arm isn't going away, purple nail beds, etc etc. so went to my PCP and barely got halfway through explaining everything that was happening and she's like 'yeah so I want you to do labs today' and sent a referral for a vascular ultrasound. so every artery/vein from the big ones in my neck down to my arms and to the tiny ones in my fingers sooo my labs became available for me to see tonight in the lab portal, but my doctor set me up for an appt on monday to 'discuss them' and I was like ok either the labs or the vascular ultrasound is abnormal. OR BOTH yeah, it's probably both. I'm sure doctor's hate that we can view our labs before talking with them but I actually like having an idea of what's wrong instead of being blindsided lmao I knew I had leukemia before my doc told me I did and it was much easier to handle after sitting with it for a few days beforehand so yeah pretty sure I'm really vitamin d deficient, if I'm reading it right, which she was concerned about, plus, again if I'm reading it right, I have a whole ass, brand new incurable autoimmune disorder that honestly sounds like it sucks more than the fucking cancer I have c: c: c: I don't know 100% if I have this but it seems pretty likely and would explain a lot of things going on (not the head stuff, which is very likely still IIH, but the bloating + inability to lose weight, which can be helped so I can continue losing weight to hopefully help the fucking IIH) my body is just. breaking down and trying to kill me at every turn, I swear. like what's the point anymore, nothing ever gets better lol I have no life to live, just chronic disability that's agonizing day in and day out. what's. the. fucking. point. this can be 'managed' but will always steadily worsen over time because it can't be cured sooo,,,,,,, I don't want to do this anymore, I truly don't. I've been telling my mom for six years every time I turn a corner it's something worse and that was for psychological trauma, but now it's turned into trauma caused by debilitating and declining health issues. I don't want to do this anymore did labs on monday for my hematologist to check where the cancer numbers are, I expect that one to take a while to get back. if the cancer numbers are detectable, I can't even treat it (and don't want to since, as my hema put it, the treatment can't be worse than the disease and chemo tried to kill me like three times) yet another thing I could've possibly been treating 16 months ago (third potential thing but You Seem Anxious™ sure delays diagnosis, seems like they should fix that, huh???) as an aside, this is the second time I've read POSITIVE (reference range: NEGATIVE) on my labs and it's not a great feeling guys NOT GREAT AT ALL all of this is happening during a pandemic so I haven't seen my family in over a year and I've seen my brother like twice? since last march? I kinda feel

like I'm never going to see them again at all. haven't eaten in my fave restaurants or gone to a movie. idk it just really feels like these aren't things I'm ever going to experience again got three MRIs scheduled on the 16th to see if my chiari/anything else has worsened. it feels like it has. I'm losing mobility in my neck and it's becoming harder to walk, so if that's any worse or if brain surgery is recommended, idk what I'll do cause I'm not doing that :) it's too risky considering everything else. I'm constantly stuck in a place that no matter which direction I go I face further harm, so what can even be done? I'm sorry. I'm sorry these are always depressing and hopeless, but I don't know how to feel hope anymore. we'll see what my pcp says on monday, but it's not looking good I'm truly sorry if I bring you all down with these posts. it's the only place I can put all my messy thoughts and feelings without feeling judged. thank you, all the same, for listening and offering words of encouragement and hope where I don't have any love you all very, very much. thanks for always being there for me <3

[thelastspeecher]

D R A M

The title of this post is actually what I named the Word doc that I wrote this up in.  This write takes place in an AU inspired by a post that said something along the lines of “supervillain winds up marrying the ex-spouse of their superhero archnemesis”.  I saw that post and was like “time to make another version of the Superhero/villain AU”.  So here you go.

——————————————————————————————

              Stan slid into his regular stool at the bar. At the sound of soft muttering, he looked over.  He raised an eyebrow.  Normally, no one sat next to his stool.  But today, a young woman sat there, staring morosely at her drink and mumbling something.

              “Hey, hot stuff,” he said cheerfully, leaning in. She held up a hand.  Light glinted off the golden band around her ring finger.

              “I’m married,” she said dully.

              “You don’t sound too happy about it,” Stan remarked. She glared at him.  “I call it like I see it, toots.”

              “Don’t call me ‘toots’,” she snapped.

              “Fine.  What should I call you, then?”

              “By my name.”

              “Which would be…?”

              “…Angie.”

              “Angie.”  Stan held out a hand.  “I’m Stan.” Angie shook the offered hand. “So, what brings a troubled wife to my favorite dive?”

              “My dick of a husband,” Angie groused.  She slumped over the bar.  “I swear…some days he acts like a completely dif’rent man than the one I married.”  Tears shone in her voice, along with a distinct southern accent.  She picked up her drink and pulled on the straw.  It rattled in the ice at the bottom of the otherwise empty glass.  “And I’m all out.”

              “I’ll cover it.  What’s your drink?”

              “Long Island iced tea.”

              “Oof.  Maybe I shouldn’t get you a second one of those.  Those are a bad decision in a glass.”  Angie straightened, her eyes boring into Stan’s.

              “I can handle my liquor, sir.  I bet I can handle it better ‘n you can,” she snarled. Stan held his hands up.

              “Okay, okay, I believe you.  Man, you’ve got claws, don’t you?”

              “Maybe.”

              “Heh.  I like a woman with a bit of fight in her.”  Stan winked.

              “Still married.”

              “To that dick?  Why?”

              “He treats me right,” Angie mumbled into her drink. “…Sometimes.”

              “Sometimes?  What about the rest of the time?”

              “He tries to get me to quit my job and be a housewife.”

              “Why?”

              “If I knew, I’d tell ya,” Angie said with a shrug. She tapped the rim of her glass. “So, about that drink…?”

              “Hey, barkeep?” Stan called, flagging down the bartender.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one corner of Angie’s mouth turn up, into a ghost of a smile.

-----

              Stan had just about finished putting his boots on when his favorite coworker, Undertow, stormed into the locker room.  He watched with a raised eyebrow as Undertow tore open his locker, muttering under his breath.

              “You’re in a mood today,” Stan commented.  Undertow sighed.  He looked back at Stan.  The crew’s general policy was to keep masks on at all times in HQ, since there were some new heroes with telepathy who might be able to take a peek at a villain’s memories.  Undertow’s outfit had a full cowl, rather than a domino mask like Stan’s, but even partially obscured, he had one of the most expressive faces Stan had ever seen. And at the moment, Undertow’s expression was frustrated and saddened.

              “I thought she was fin’ly goin’ to leave him,” Undertow said.  Stan’s second eyebrow raised to join his first.

              He’s pretty damn upset.  Normally, he keeps that accent in check.

              “Who?” Stan asked.

              “My sister.”

              “You have a sister?”

              “Two.”  Undertow sat on the bench next to Stan.  “But the one I’m speakin’ of is my twin sister.”  Stan racked his brain for any hints about Undertow’s background.  As someone without villainous family connections, he wasn’t privy to information that some of his coworkers had.  But he remembered hearing once that Undertow came from a long line of villains.

              “Is she…in the trade?” Stan asked.  Undertow shook his head.

              “No.  When we were younger, she wanted to be.  But she decided not to, when she started datin’ the feller what became her husband.” Undertow scowled.  “Her husband’s a real piece of shit.”

              “Did he prevent her from being a villain?”

              “Nah.  He don’t know ‘bout our fam’ly bein’ full of villains.  But he’s on the straight ‘n narrow, and wouldn’t have liked his wife to be breakin’ the law.”  Undertow sighed heavily.  “As it is, he don’t really like his wife doin’ much of anything.  Which is why my sister needs to dump his sorry ass.”  Undertow rubbed his face.  “And I thought she was goin’ to do it this time.  But she didn’t.”

              “What happened?”

              “They had another argument about how he wants her to start poppin’ out kids.  She don’t want to yet, ‘cause she feels like takin’ maternity leave right now would cripple her career trajectory.  And his response was that she won’t need maternity leave, ‘cause she can just quit her job.  He keeps pushin’ that issue over ‘n over.  He don’t like her workin’.”

              “Sounds like a douche.”

              “He is!  And after that fight, she came to my house fer a shoulder to cry on.  I did my best to sway her, but she still went back to him once she’d calmed down.”  Undertow groaned loudly.  “Honestly, at this point, I can’t think of a single thing that’d get her to leave him.”

              “Maybe I should make a pass at her,” Stan joked. Undertow snorted.

              “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.  You’d be better fer her than what she’s got right now.”

-----

              Stan went to the bar every night, hoping to see Angie again, but it took a month before she showed up.  This time, she arrived after he did, visibly in tears. She made her way to the stool next to Stan’s and sat down.  Faint breezes danced around her, kicking up her caramel-colored hair.

              Is…is she a super?  I knew she was something special.  Stan wordlessly slid her his whisky, which she downed in one swallow. He winced.

              “Your husband again?” he asked.  Angie nodded morosely.  “Well, at least he lasted a month before he pissed you off enough to make you drown your sorrows.”

              “Nah, I just went to my brother’s last time,” Angie said hoarsely.  “He’s got real moonshine, and I wanted somethin’ strong.”

              “If your brother’s got hooch, why are you coming here?” Stan asked.  Angie slid Stan’s empty tumbler back to him, determinedly avoiding eye contact.

              “I…wanted to talk to you.”

              “…Really?”

              “Yes.”

              “Look, lady, I’m not a marriage counselor.”

              “I know.  But you don’t have an agenda.  My brother does.  My whole fam’ly does, all my friends do.  All they say is ‘leave him’.”  Angie met Stan’s gaze.  Her eyes were a bright, brilliant blue, swimming in tears.  “I just need someone to listen.”

              “I can do that, but you’re gonna have to pay for another whiskey for me first,” Stan said.  Angie managed a watery chuckle.

              “Fine.”  Angie waved over the bartender and ordered herself a Long Island iced tea and another whiskey for Stan.

              “All right,” Stan said once his drink was in hand. “What’s going on?”

              “My ma became a stay-at-home mother when I was a tot.  She kept house and raised six kids-”  Stan coughed roughly.

              “Six kids?” he croaked.  Angie nodded.  “What the-”

              “We’re Catholic.”

              “Ah, okay.  Carry on.”

              “Props to her.  It’s a rough job to have, and I don’t look down on it.”  Angie slammed her hands against the counter.  A wind picked up, rattling the old beer advertisements on the wall.  “But it ain’t fer me!”

              “Lemme guess.  Your husband wants you to be a stay-at-home mom.”

              “Yes.  Which I knew. But this time- this time, he brought my ma into it!  Told me that I’d be good at it ‘cause my ma clearly was.  I just-”  Angie gestured wordlessly.  “How- how could he think that’s a compliment?”

              “Probably ‘cause he’s so dead set on you doing that,” Stan said with a shrug.  “He’s already decided you’ll do it, so he’s already started complimenting you on it.”

              “…That makes sense,” Angie said softly.  She groaned loudly.  “Why is he like this?”  Stan shrugged.  “I want to stay with him, to get him to change his mind-”

              “That’s not your job.  Your job is-”  Stan frowned. “Wait, what do you do?”

              “I’m a zookeeper.”

              “Your job is to keep zoos,” Stan said.  Angie furrowed her brow, like she couldn’t decide whether she was amused by Stan’s phrasing or not.  “Not to drag your husband out of the fifties.”

              “But I’m his wife.”

              “And?”

              “I’m s’pposed to help him change.”

              “What if he doesn’t want to change?” Stan asked. “What do you do then?”  The winds that had entered the bar with Angie abruptly died down.

              “…Yer right.”

              “I am?”

              “He don’t want to change.  He don’t want to listen to me.  I can’t force it, I shouldn’t have even tried.”  Angie dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and stood to leave.

              “Hey, uh wait-” Stan started.  Angie looked at him.

              “Yes?”

              “I, uh, I never got your last name.”

              “It’s Hillcrest.”  Angie slid her wedding ring off and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. “But not fer long.”  She paused for a moment, watching Stan, then leaned in and placed a gentle peck on his cheek.  With that, she left the bar.

              Stan stared at the door long after she had gone, his mind running a mile a minute.

              Did I just get her to break up with her husband?

-----

              Stan walked out of the shower and headed for his locker to get dressed in his civvies.  After he had his pants on, Undertow entered the locker room and went for his locker as well.

              “Hey,” Stan said.  Undertow grunted.  “Is it your sister’s husband again?”

              “Hmm?”  Undertow turned around.  “Oh, no, she finally dumped him.”

              “Really?  Good for her.”

              “Yeah.  But she’s got a new beau, and she insisted on dinner with him tonight.”  Undertow sighed.  “I’m not looking forward to it.”

              “Is he a dick, too?”

              “Don’t know.  Haven’t met him.”

              “Ah.  I get it. You don’t wanna meet your sister’s new man just yet.”

              “No, I do not.”

              “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not looking forward to dinner tonight, either,” Stan said, slipping on his T-shirt. “I’m meeting my girlfriend’s brother for the first time.”

              “Oof.”  Undertow looked at him sympathetically.  “Don’t worry too much, Flamethrower.  You’re a great guy.”

              “Thanks, but I dunno if her brother’s gonna think that. My girlfriend says he can be a bit tough.”  Undertow walked over to Stan and clapped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

              “I’m sure it’ll go great.”

              “Hopefully,” Stan muttered.  Undertow smiled at him.

              “If her brother doesn’t like you, he’s a damn fool.”

-----

              Stan walked up to the address Angie had given him. When she divorced her ex-husband, she had moved in with her twin brother, Lute.  Apparently, Lute was thrilled to have her with him again.

              I get it, though.  That twin bond is strong.  Stan stopped in front of the door.  He took a deep breath and knocked.

              “Comin’!” Angie called.  Stan felt some of his nerves disperse at the sound of her voice. The door opened, revealing the beaming face of his girlfriend.  “Stanley!” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you so much fer agreein’ to this.”

              “You said it’s important, so…”

              “It is,” Angie said softly.  “It really is.”  Her eyes lit up.  “Oh! And, um, remember how ya told me that yer not exactly…on the side of the law?” she said, her voice low.  Stan nodded.  Telling Angie he was a villain had been nerve wracking, but she had proven herself once again to be the best possible girlfriend and taken it in stride. “Well, the reason I took it so well is ‘cause I have a lot of fam’ly members who ‘re in the same career.”

              “Wait, really?”

              “Yep!  Lute’s one of ‘em.  If things go well tonight, I can prob’ly convince him to put a good word in fer ya, get ya moved up in the ranks a bit.”

              “You really think so?” Stan asked eagerly. Angie nodded.  “That would be awesome, Ang.”

              “Just be charmin’, okay?”  Angie messed with his shirt.  “But that shouldn’t be a problem.”

              “Hey, Angie, the oven just beeped!” a voice shouted. Stan’s head whipped up.

              That almost sounded like Undertow.

              “All right, I’ll come take care of it,” Angie called back.  She kissed Stan on the cheek.  “Come on in and take a seat in the livin’ room.”

              “You got it.”  Stan kissed the top of her head and entered the house, following the hallway until he arrived at a cozy living room.  He took a seat on the brown couch.  Shortly after, a young man that looked eerily similar to Angie entered, holding a glass of water, and took a seat next to him.

              “So, um…” the man said.  He cleared his throat.  “Yer Stan?”

              “Yeah.  I’m guessing you’re Lute?”

              “Yessir.”

              “Nice to meet you,” Stan said, holding out a hand. Lute shook it, visibly reluctant. “Angie speaks pretty highly of you.”

              “She does the same fer you.”  Lute cleared his throat again.  “What do you do?”

              “I sell used cars.”

              “Used cars?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan shrugged.  “It’s just to make some dough while I work on my passion projects.”  Lute eyed Stan with interest.  Much like when he had heard Lute’s voice earlier, Stan was reminded of Undertow.  Something about the look in Lute’s gray eyes was eerily familiar.

              “Passion projects?  Like what?”

              “Oh, uh, I’m keeping them to myself until they work out,” Stan said.

              Don’t wanna spill just yet that I want to become a villain full-time.

              “Ah.”  Lute seemed disappointed.  He looked down at his glass of water.  After a moment, he spoke again.  “You a super?”

              “Yeah.  You?” Stan asked without thinking.  He fought back a wince.

              Angie just told you he was a villain, of course he’s a super, you dumbass.  Lute smirked. The water in his glass shot up, hovered as a sphere for a split second, then zipped around the room before returning to his glass.  Stan’s jaw dropped.

              “Whattaya think?” Lute asked snidely.

              “…I think you’re a super,” Stan said.

              Shit, it is Undertow!  How did I wind up dating my coworker’s twin sister without realizing it?

              “Yup.”  Lute winked. “Better yet, I’m a mask.  Give ya twenty bucks if ya can guess who.”

              “Lute!” Angie scolded from the kitchen.  Lute groaned.

              “Fine, I’ll drop it.”  Before Stan could think of what to do with the information that Lute was Undertow, the villain in question spoke again.  “So, ya sell used cars.  What’s yer education like?”

              “Uh, high school.”

              “That’s it?” Lute asked.  Stan nodded.  Lute frowned. “My sister has a-”

              “Doctorate in herpetology, I know,” Stan said.

              “And you don’t think it’s odd at all that someone so educated is with someone who only graduated high school?” Lute pressed. Stan shrugged.

              “It just means that she’s smart enough for the both of us,” he said airily.  Lute froze. His eyes began to frantically search Stan’s face.

              “…What did ya just say?” he whispered.

              “That Angie’s smart enough for both of us,” Stan said.  A memory abruptly surfaced of a conversation he’d had with Undertow a few days ago. He had mentioned his relationship, as well as the discrepancy between his education and his girlfriend’s.  And Undertow had simply replied that Stan’s girlfriend would have to be smart enough for the both of them, then.

              “Hmm.”  Lute leaned back, still staring at Stan.  “Say, yer a super, right?  What kind?” In lieu of a verbal response, Stan snapped his fingers.  A flame burst to life on his fingertips.

              “Whattaya think?”

              “Flamethrower,” Lute whispered.  Stan extinguished the flame.

              “Undertow.”

              “Yer- I-”  Lute dragged his hands down his face.  “Consarnit!”

              “Yeah, I gotta admit, finding out that my girlfriend’s twin is my favorite coworker is pretty weird,” Stan confessed.  Lute groaned.  “But you seem to be taking this way harder than you should be.”

              “It’s just- yer my fav’rite coworker, too.”

              “You make that sound like it’s a problem.”

              “It is.  I like ya, Stan, which is goin’ to make it difficult to be hard on ya.”

              “Wait, what?” Stan asked.  Lute sighed.

              “I have to be hard on ya to make sure yer all right fer my sister.”

              “What?  Come on, man!”

              “My sister just got out of a bad relationship. I don’t want her to wind up in another one right off the bat.”

              “You know me.  I’m a good guy.  I treat Angie right.”

              “That’s what I thought ‘bout Max,” Lute said softly. “Hell, we’d been friends since we were in diapers.  I thought he was a decent sort.  So when he ‘n Angie started datin’ in high school, I didn’t bat an eye.  I should’ve.  If I had, maybe I could’ve stopped Angie from needin’ a divorce.”

              “Lute.”  Stan and Lute looked up.  Angie had entered the living room.  She crossed over to Lute, knelt in front of him, and placed a hand on one of his knees. “Don’t blame yourself.  The only person to blame is me.  I should’ve left the minute he became a hero, and I was goin’ to have to abandon the dream of followin’ the fam’ly tradition.  But I stayed.  Even when he started raggin’ on me ‘bout how I needed to be a more traditional wife.”

              “You were in a toxic relationship,” Lute said softly.  “Yer not to blame.”

              “The only person to blame here is your dick of an ex-husband,” Stan said.  Angie and Lute looked over.  “Lute’s right, Angie.  It’s difficult to leave a toxic relationship.  My mom’s proof of that.  But Angie’s right, too, Lute.  It’s not your fault, either.  Sometimes…sometimes people start out good, but then they get worse.  Even if you had been hard on Max when he started dating Angie, things still could have played out the way they did.”

              “Yeah,” Lute said.  He sighed.  “Yer right, Stan.  We should be blamin’ Max, not ourselves.  Especially since he’s apparently a hero.”  Lute directed the statement at Angie, who paled.  “Banjolina, what’s that about?”

              “Banjolina?” Stan mumbled.

              “I didn’t share information either way,” Angie said tartly, getting to her feet.  “I ain’t a snitch.”

              “Ya won’t be tellin’ us what his hero name is, then?” Lute asked.  Angie shook her head.  “Hmph. Guess we’ll just have to figure it out on our own.”

              “Speaking of secret identities,” Stan said, “why didn’t you warn us that we already knew each other?”  Angie grinned.

              “I might not have ever gotten into the villainy game, but that don’t mean I ignore the chance to stir up some mischief.” Something in the kitchen beeped.  “Oh, I’ve got to get that.”  She rushed back into the kitchen.

              “Given what ya just said and what I already knew about you,” Lute said slowly, “I’ll drop the protective big brother speech.” Stan leaned back.

              “Cool.  I mean, no offense, but you’re not as intimidating as you think you are,” Stan replied.  Lute rolled his eyes.

              “Whatever.”  He leaned closer to Stan.  “Between the two of us, I think we could figure out which hero it is what broke Angie’s heart and trapped her in a bad relationship fer years on end.”  Stan nodded.

              “I agree.  That motherfucker needs to get a firm ass-kicking.”

[a-simple-lee]

Wednesday Afternoon

Timothy Stoker, Reader

Synopsis: Season 1 fluff. Following up leads for Jon sucks, but your other colleagues make the job a little more bearable.

A/n: I went to close my google docs tab and blinked and suddenly half an hour had passed and I’d finished an old fic. I don’t know what to do with it so I’m dumping it here I guess?? Please tolerate my shameless simping for Tim, I’m so sorry

_______________________________________________

The morning hasn’t necessarily been bad, but you’re tired. Commutes on the tube tend to have that effect on everyone, and you’ve had more than your fair share of those - hopping on the train to the British Library for some records was as tedious as could be expected, and after spending precious minutes squinting at tube maps and dashing between platforms, the records you'd retrieved had barely helped with the statement in question. Today has just decided to feel longer, it seems. You sigh.

You’re not expecting Tim to sneak up behind you for a hug in the break room, but it's welcome nonetheless. 

"Afternoon." There's a grin in his voice.

“Hello to you, too.” Tim lets you extract yourself from his arms so you can turn on the kettle. Both of you lean back against the counter. You eye the ostentatiously patterned, partially unbuttoned shirt Tim's wearing, and vaguely remember Jonathan’s double take upon seeing his assistant’s outfit this morning. "Boss isn’t letting you get away with that ensemble, is he?”

“'course he is. Wouldn't dream of having a go at his favourite assistant." He puts a hand to his chest with a flourish.

"Pfft. No, really. What did he say?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Something about decorum and how I'm lacking - as if he can talk with his corduroy blazers. What I lack in professionalism I more than make up for with charisma. Can’t say the same for him."

"He is stuffy. Tea?"

“Massive understatement.Yes, please.” Tim types something into his phone. It makes a cheerful blipping noise.

“Sash and Martin are out investigating a lead, but we're hoping to pop out for chips later - care to join us?”

“Sure, sounds good." You reach towards the top shelf for some mugs. "Why does Martin have to-oof- put all of these at the back? It's hardly fair."

"It's perfectly fair, you’re the only short one here." Tim grins, tweaking your side. You flinch away with a poorly concealed yelp. Both of you freeze.

It’s Tim who speaks up first. “Oh?”

“Tim-” It’s too late. He’s already reaching out to poke you again.

“Are you ticklish?”

“No?” The fact that you’re already letting a few giggles slip doesn’t help your case at all. Tim continues making pincer motions towards your sides, and at first you manage to dodge him, stepping back each time he tries to reach you.

And then your back hits the wall. Shit.

“Tim-”

“Yep?” He’s got a spark of mischief in his eyes, and a grin that’s starting to bring a blush to your face. His hand makes contact with your lower ribs, squeezing gently. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

“Wahait-” The dam breaks, and streams of your badly muffled laughter stream into the break room. Tim lets out a triumphant little “aha!”, only encouraged by your reactions.

“You are ticklish! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” He smiles, shifting closer to hold an arm around your waist so you can’t sink down against the wall.

“The tea! I need to make the tea!” You gasp out between hysterics, trying to push at his shoulders but finding it doesn’t do much. 

“But you’re cute when you’re being tickled.” Tim states smugly, chuckling at the flustered noise you make.

“Tim!”

“You’re blushing~”

“Shut up!”

He gasps, trying to sound offended. “Did you just tell your best friend to shut up? I could report you for workplace bullying, you know, I’m the Archivist’s favourite assistant.”

“Plehease-” You whine, turning to hide your face as best you can.

“Please report you? Well, since you’re asking so nicely-”

“No- that’s not what I- Okay, I’m sorry- don’t report me-” 

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes!”

He sneaks his hands under your arms, and you let out a yelp before falling into another bout of hysterics. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I give, I’m sorry-” You tap his arm a couple of times, weak from laughter, and he finally releases you.

“Apology accepted,” Tim watches as you readjust your shirt with a huff before heading back to the countertop. 

“That was rather mean of you.” You sigh, trying to wipe the smile off of your face as you reach back up to get out the mugs. Tim, inevitably, shifts closer, and you shoot him a wary glance, concerned he’ll try to poke your side again. He holds his hands up, the picture of innocence.

“Nah, it wasn’t mean...” He hesitates. “Was it mean?”

“...No, no. Not really.” You switch the kettle on. 

“You’re still blushing.”

You almost tell him to shut up a second time, but think better of it. “Stop pointing it out.”

“Never.”

“...There’s a lot to hate about you, Tim.”

“No, you love me really.”

“Did I say I didn’t love you?” You screw the cap onto the milk and place Tim’s mug next to him. 

“Aww, look at you getting all soft. Is Martin rubbing off on you?”

You roll your eyes. “Just drink your tea, Stoker.”

“Love you too.”

Suffice to say, the rest of the day more than makes up for your shitty morning.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Back in Time (Indruck superhero AU)

This was based on a prompt requested by several folks on the Indruck discord, and is set in the same universe as “The Thrilling Adventures of the Green Knight,” taking place some time after “Aww, Rats.”  It deals with memory loss, so if that’s a no-go for you this is one to skip.

Duck Newton is proud of how far his boyfriend has come. How a man who was once, in his own words, “a hissing, scheming villain” now dedicates his life to protecting the city of Kepopolis, fights side by side with Duck to keep their home, their city, and their friends safe. 

But sometimes, he wishes the self-preservation instinct that ruled him as a villain made more appearances. If it did, Duck might not be sitting outside the med bay of the hideout, jiggling his knee while he waits for news. Indrid might not have thrown himself in front of the blast from Dr. Amig Dahlias’ newest invention. 

Duck might be unconscious in the med bay instead, but he’ll take that outcome any day.

The door slides open and Dani pokes her head out, “He’s waking up.”

“Oh thank fuck.” He rushes inside, takes Indrid’s hand as the silver-haired man groans and shifts on the cot. 

“S’okay sugar, you’re in the base, everyone is safe, just take it easy.”

Red eyes blink open. Then stay that way, wide and scanning the room.

“I...I am glad everyone is safe. That is good. But, ah, I, I…” he turns to look at Duck, “I’m sorry, I do not know who any of you are.”

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

“Is it permanent?” Duck corners Dr. Octavius the minute he’s out of the room. The doctor is one of the best when it comes to dealing with damage from supers of all kinds. 

“I’m not sure. That blast he was hit with dealt a massive blow to his memory; as far as I can tell, he can’t remember anything from his past. Not his childhood, not his time as a villain, not all of you. I don’t know if this was the intended result, but the blast also severely dampened his precognition; his powers are functionally dormant.”

“Fuck.”

Dr. Octavius sets a hand on his shoulder; they’ve known each other a long time, he’s been patching Duck up since his days with the Chosen Squad. Some childish part of Duck’s brain had hoped he could make Indrid better, the way he always made Duck. 

“It may not be permanent, and I think the chances are good the memories are all suppressed, rather than gone. I’ll consult with some colleagues to see what can be done.”

“Thanks, Doc. Is he okay? I mean, uh, is he scared or anythin?”

“Mainly confused, which is understandable.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.” He waves as the man departs, then grabs his phone. Maybe there’s someone else who can help. 

Dr. Mwangi arrives a half hour later; she’s Indrid’s therapist and, like Dr. Nelson, the vet, she’s one of the few people in Kepopolis whose office is neutral territory. She helps supers of all alignments, and Indrids’ flashbacks are more easily handled since he started seeing her. 

“Just...do you think there’s anythin I can do to help him remember?”

“Any photographs, items of emotional significance from his past or present, those might help bring some memories back to the surface. Maybe taking him places that he’s fond of, or where important things happened. And I agree with you all that keeping all the super hero business quiet for now, as it could be completely overwhelming. Other than that, all we can be is patient. Is he staying with you?”

“Yeah. Our place is the safest, thanks to all the security he installed, so if word gets out where we live or that he’s incapacitated in some way, no one’ll be able to get in and hurt him.”

“That’s good. But I was more concerned with the need for him to be with someone he trusts. Even if he doesn’t remember you, I suspect he’ll feel safe with you.”

Duck looks into the other room, where Indrid is chatting with Aubrey (“I have a niece? That’s wonderful”). 

“God, I hope so.”

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

“You are...my boyfriend?”

“Yeah” Duck is fighting to keep a gentle smile on his face, to not crumple at the lack of recognition in Indrid’s eyes, “we been together almost two years.”

“You seem very nice. And handsome. I must be very lucky.”

“Here we are.” Duck flips on the lights, shuts the door and arms it, “home sweet home.”

“This is love--OH, oh hello.” Indrid smiles as Chicken runs up to them, demanding her dinner, “who is this.”

Duck’s heart twists with disappointment for the three-hundreth time that day; he keeps hoping the next thing they encounter will be the one to jog Indrid’s memory.

“That’s Chicken.”

“She’s so charming. I had no idea cats could be hairless.”

Duck nods with a tight smile, is digging out the new bag of cat food when Indrid chirps with delight. 

“Rats! You have rats!” His face is pressed to one of the boxes of Ratopia, his mischief of five scurrying up to greet him, “I love rats, they are so clever and resourceful.”

“They’re, uh, they’re more yours than mine. They missed you, see?” He opens the nearest door on the enclosure and five furry little bodies run out, squeaking for treats and attention. Void clambers up Indrid’s body like a black comet, letting out indignant noises when he finds Indrids coat without it’s usual special pocket for his “heart rat.” Indrid scoops Void into his hands, studying him. 

“I am sorry, little ones. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you. I would like to, though.”

“You, uh, you wanna spend some time with them while I get dinner goin?”

“Yes, please.”

Duck starts water on the stove, pulls down the box of pasta, when Indrid speaks from behind him. 

“The same applies to you, you know. I do not know you, Duck Newton.”

The box crunches in half in his hands

“But I would very much like to.”

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

It’s been three weeks, and Indrid’s memory shows no signs of returning. Duck tries to hold onto hope, tries looking on the bright side, but it all turns to rubble when he feels the empty space beside him in bed, makes a comment or reference only for Indrid to blink in confusion. 

There is one bright spot, which is that Indrid insists Duck starts their courtship over. He’s adamant that he wants to build up to dating Duck again, that he clearly has met someone wonderful and is not about to let a little bout of amnesia get in the way, thank you very much. 

So Duck takes him on date after date, finding some happiness in watching Indrid experience things he enjoys for a second-first-time. They get Gelato, Mrs. Nguyen shooting Duck a puzzled look when Indrid asks to sample several flavors, rather than ordering his usual Blue Moon with marshmallow sauce on top. They go to the movies, the zoo, to one of Aubrey’s magic shows, and all the while Duck keeps his hands glued into his pockets; Indrid is still learning to be comfortable with him, and he will not so much as brush a hair from his face unless he’s sure it’s what he truly wants. 

When Indrid takes his hand as they’re walking out of a movie, Duck tears up with embarrassing speed. 

Today, they’re in the Monongahela, Duck taking Indrid on the lake loop. As they round a patch of reeds, the taller man points out onto the sparkling water. 

“What kind of ducks are those?”

“Wood Ducks” he replies softly, then laughs to himself, “you must really like ‘em, they were one of the first things you ever, uh, ever asked me about.”

“Really? I suppose that makes sense, their coloration is stunning.”

“Yeah.” Duck watches the two birds paddling on the water; he can’t be certain, but he thinks they’re the same mated pair that fascinated Indrid two years ago. The memory of Indrid, voice curious and shy rather than taunting, asking Duck what the bird was over the phone makes him ache down to his neurons. 

“I’m sorry, Duck. I know this cannot be easy on you.” Indrid is watching him through his slightly tinted tortoiseshell glasses, “to have to wait for me to fall in love with you again.”

“‘Drid” Duck takes him by his shoulders so they’re face to face, “I can’t lie for shit, so I ain’t gonna say I don’t wake up everyday hopin you remember me. But what I want outta all of this is for you to be happy, to have whatever kind of life feels right to you. Even if we don’t end up together in it or I, uh, I ain’t in at all.”

Strangely, Indrid smiles, soft and bright, as the admission hangs between them. Then he cups Duck’s cheek and leans down, kissing Duck so lightly that it’s only the sensation of too-cold hands on his skin that let’s Duck know he isn’t dreaming. 

“Wha-”

“It just felt right.” Indrid smiles wider, and holds a little tighter, wondering if this is it.

His phone rings, the tone that signals “shits going down, suit up.”

“Fuck.” He grabs it, brings it to his ear “go for Duck”

“It’s the fucking White Star boys again. They’re threatening to set off a bomb from the top of the GreenBriar Mall and are causing a major scene downtown.” From the sound of it, Barclay is driving as he talks. 

“Fuck, okay, lemme get Indrid somewhere safe and I’ll be right there.”

“Somewhere safe? Duck, what’s going on.” Indrid pulls his sweater around himself

“Long story, swear to fuckin god I’ll tell you later, now come on.” They run back to the car and Duck floors it out onto the highway. The nearest safehouse is close to the mall, so he can drop Indrid there, change, and go help his friends. 

This plan goes up in a literal cloud of smoke as cylinder hits the hood of the car, releasing a black cloud and causing Duck to careen into a fire hydrant. 

“Guess we’re closer to the whole mess than I thought.” He grumbles, grabbing his spare mask from the glove box and ripping off his shirt to reveal his hero garb underneath, “you okay?”

“Not really, as we just crashed and there is a lot of yelling happening outside.”

Duck takes his hand, “It’s probably obvious, but I’m a superhero, and a bunch of dipshits are tryin to blow up innocent folks. Stay close to me, I’ll try’n get you somewhere safe and come find you after this is taken care off.”

Indrid does not look convinced, holds onto Duck’s hand like he’ll be sucked up into space if he lets go. 

“It’ll be okay, ‘Drid. I promise.”

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

He focuses on Duck’s hand as they run, as if the link between them is enough to keep him safe. The chaos around them, the shouting and dust and disaster in the air, it all feels familiar. Then again, of his boyfriend is a superhero, maybe Indrid’s been in this situation before. 

Duck’s fingers are ripped from his own as the hero is tackled by a bulked-up man with a white star on his back. They two grapple on the ground, rolling out of sight in the surrounding smoke. Before he can call out, pain shatters through the back of his head and he hits the ground, pavement scraping his hands. He flips over, finds another starred man sneering down at him. 

“There you are. We all had bets going on whether the good doctor killed you with that ray.”

“I” Indrid scrambles back on his hands, head ringing too hard for him to stand up, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb, Cold. Everyone knows where the Knight is, you’re right behind him like some weird fucking shadow.”

“I’m not, I swear, please, I have no idea what’s going on.”

The man hits a button on his belt, and a short staff, covered in what looks like sci-fi barbed wire, springs into his hand. 

“Let me tell you, then: you’re a pain in the ass, and I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“Wait, please” his hand connects with something cold, and his fingers tell him it’s a bit of broken pipe. 

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be fun to squash you like the bug you are.”

Indrid watches him raise the weapon. His fingers curl around the pipe. 

And he lets instinct take over.

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

Most of the mob scatters as soon as Aubrey gets the smoke under control, but some of the more determined White Star Boys put up a fight. Duck throws one off of him, turns towards the commotion of two more fighting-

Oh fuck.

“Indrid!” He runs towards the melee, then skids to a stop as his boyfriend takes one down with a skilled, precise blow to the head. The lands a cut on his cheek with a Bowie knife and Indrid snarls, whirling to break the offending hand and knocking the man’s head to the side with the lead pipe he’s using as a staff. 

The man goes down, hands weakly covering his face, and Indrid hits him again. And again. 

“Moth, for fucks sake, stop! He’s down, you don’t gotta kill him!”

Indrid locks eyes with Duck, tilts his blood-spattered head to the side.

“You have the wrong villain, hero. I am The Sword. And you are in my way.”

Indrid lunges and Duck braces to take the hit that never comes. There’s hissing and cursing from above him, and he looks up to see Indrid trapped in red light.

“I came to help the Lady Flame” The Quell regards Indrid with sorrowful eyes, “but it seems we have a far worse problem than those little  power-mad stars.”

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

“He’s much quieter than his brother” Stern stands outside the Pine Guard holding cell with Duck, while Indrid sits calming inside, eyes shut as if in sleep, “The Flame monologues whenever he gets a chance.”

“Of all the goddamn parts of his life to remember” Duck clonks his head into the wall. 

“I called every specialist on our roster; the consensus is that one of the white star boys must have attacked him. In moments of that kind of intense stress and fear, sometimes people revert back to what they first learned. In Indrid’s case, it was his training to be the perfect villain.”

Duck grunts in acknowledgement, keeps his head on the wall so he doesn’t have to look at the man he loves reverted to his worst instincts. 

“I promise we’ll take good care of him until our next move becomes clear.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

The agent takes a final look through the glass, “We’ll get him back somehow. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They’ve just reached the parking lot when alarms sound and lights flash, Joe’s communicator ringing like mad. He looks at it and blanches. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Indrid got out?” It’d be the perfect, shitty cap to a perfectly shitty day.

“Yes. Do you want me to call in back-up?”

Duck shakes his head, “No. I was real good at huntin’ down the Moth. Think I can find The Sword the same way.”

He doesn’t add, as Joe wishes him good luck, that he has a horrible feeling he already knows where Indrid is. 

Unlocking the apartment door, he takes two steps before his own SmartWhips close around his torso and arms. Indrid steps out of the hall, grinning at him.

Duck sighs, “Yeah. That’s why I figured.”

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

Indrid studies the trapped hero, wondering if he should ask him the main question  on his mind, which is whether this location they’ve been pretending is an apartment is Indrid’s hide-out or his. He’s been searching it for twenty minutes and even with his foresight back he cannot tell. He did find his staffs, smart glasses that are confusingly red rather than silver, and a set of wings he knows are based on a prototype of his. 

But that is not the most important question to his mission. 

“Where is The Flame?”

Duck shakes his head, “Not tellin you. You were the smartest villain I ever faced, Indrid, and I don’t doubt you could bust him out no problem. But you and I both know you don’t want that.”

“It is my duty to free my partner. It is for the best.”

“Is it really? You honestly tellin me you wouldn’t be happier far, far away from that brother of yours?”

Indrid forces his face to stay calm, but his guts twist; how could Duck know how often he wishes Apollo would go on a mission and never come back, or just leave him be for a few days so he could do something, anything other than villainy.

“You know nothing of my brother.”

“The last time he saw you, he tried to blow you up, tortured me, and then tried to kill in some weird trainin arena. He’s a cruel, egotistical dipshit.” 

“That...that sounds exactly like him. Very well, maybe you do know what you are talking about. So tell me where he is, and I will not be forced to get the information from you another way.”

Duck squirms, afraid, but stays silent. Indrid hauls his to his feet.

“Tell me where he is.”

“No. Let him rot, it’s what he deserves.”

“What he deserves is immaterial. What matters is he will get out one way or another and if he does it without my help he will-”

Duck gives a knowing look. Indrid huffs, drops him back to the ground. 

“Nevermind.”

“He’ll hit you with that lightning rod of his? Or threaten to drown you, like he did that time in, uh, in Kansas City?”

“Would you kindly shut up so I can think?” Indrid turns on his heel, begins pacing. Duck knows a great deal, which means Indrid must have confided in him at some point, likely before he lost his memory. Maybe he was interrogated by him? But even then it doesn’t make sense; Indrid can withstand any kind of torture. Well, almost any kind.

Why on earth did he tell the hero those things?

He spots the rat run, the little black one (Void, that was what Duck called him) sending demanding squeaks his way through the plexiglass. Indrid leans down, touching his fingertip to the glass to mirror the placement of the rat’s paw.

“I wonder if I could take you with me. Doubtless you would make a skilled minion.”

“‘Drid, the scariest thing he’s ever done is wear those glasses that make him look like a giant monster rat to scare off intruders.”

“What part of ‘shut up’ was unclear, chivalrous one?” Indrid glances over his shoulder, finds the hero sitting up with a hopeful expression.

“That nickname. ‘Drid, it’s the first time you called me that since you lost your memory. Do you remember anythin’ else about that name, about why you call me it?”

He thinks, gets flashes of images that he’s certain are the past, not the future; Duck, the Green Knight, throwing him out a window, chasing him from warehouses, trapping him in those blasted SmartWhips. Oh yes, he remembers him now.

“You. You are my nemesis.” 

“Uh, I was, but-”

Indrid laughs, high and sharp to cover the disappointment in his chest, “Oh that is diabolical. I lose my memory and what do you all do? You put me in the hands of my nemesis, convince me that I had a life with someone who cared for me as if that could change my nature. Not even I could concoct a plan that cruel, chivalrous one.”

“Indrid, please, you gotta remember the rest.”

“I do not need to do any such thing. But it does change what I do with you.” He stalks forward, wrenching Duck up by his hair. 

The whips close around his wrists, trapping them together. 

“Let me go this instant!”

“No can do, sugar. I ain’t gonna fight you, but I ain’t gonna let you hurt me, or anyone else.”

“You” Indrid sees the explanation coming, “you stole one of my smart picks! You are as bad as Apollo is!”

“Trust me, I ain’t.”

Indrid tries to hurl him against the counter, but Duck holds fast, causing the villain to simply unfurl the whip some. The hero giggles, quiet at first, then growing louder.

“Christ, it’s like fuckin deja vu, you and me bein like this. At least I did it on purpose this time.”

The villain is about to snap that there’s nothing funny about being trapped with one’s nemesis. Then the memory comes, he and Duck taken from enemies to allies in an instant as they tried to undo the malfunctioning smartwhip trapping them together. The night, about a week later, when Duck sent a spy B.U.G just to make sure Indrid wasn’t too badly hurt from a fight. 

The Green Knight, looking after the Moth as if he was a friend, not a villain. 

The Moth. He’s the Moth.

He surges forward, slamming his lips against Ducks mouth. The hero gasps, bound hands gripping the front of Indrid’s black shirt.

“My love, my love, Duck, I’m sorry, I am so sorry, one moment, I can get us unraveled.” He kisses him again, his mind and body registering the full weight of almost a month without his hero’s touch.

“Please tell me this means what I think it does” he mumbles into Indrid’s mouth.

“It does my love. More or less. Things are not coming back in a linear fashion, but it feels as if my memories have all awakened and will be in order eventually. I, I feel like myself, my full self, again.”

“Thank sweet baby christ, fuck” Duck huddles close, shoulders shaking, “didn’t know how much longer I could stay calm, you’re fuckin terrifyin  when you want to be.”

“Oh, oh dear, apologies” The whips drop to the ground, “I did not remember, I, I was more lethal, more willing slash and burn when I was The Sword, I never wanted you to be on the receiving end of that, oh goodness, I’m so sorry, my sweet.” He holds Duck to him, buries his face in his hair when he thinks of what he might have done.

“You’re back.” Duck presses a kiss to his neck, “you’re back. That’s all that matters, fuck, I missed you so much.”

Indrid shuts his eyes, holds fast to the man who makes his mind sing “home” with every beat of his heart.

“I missed you too, chivalrous one.”

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

Dr. Amig Dahlia prowls towards her laboratory. The Pine Guard brought her latest scheme crashing down, and it’s high time to make them all into blank slates, the way she did with the meddlesome Moth. At least he’s still nowhere to be found.”

“Hello, doctor.”  

Seated directly in front of the memory ray is none other than The Moth. He stands, patting the ray, “this is a very clever device, and had it not made my life, and the lives of others, miserable, I might applaud you for it. As it is, I am here to demand you disable it, and turn yourself in.”

“Last I checked, my ray didn’t damage your intelligence, so that idiotic idea must be all yours.”

The Moth cocks his head, “Is that a no?”

In answer, she steps forward, pressing in the sequence to arm the device. 

The hero stays put, right in it’s path, “firing on me will not end well. I  modified your device while you were distracted by my teammates. It will backfire when you pull the trigger”

“Nice try,but you’ll need a more convincing lie to get out of this one.” The lights on the side of the ray turn green. 

The wide smile changes, all ice and edges, “Before you make your choice, consider this; Because of you, I almost hurt the man I love.”

She rolls her eyes, touches the trigger, and white light explodes all around her.

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

“What did you do to that ray?” Duck stands next to him as they watch medics help a sobbing Amig Dahlia into an ambulance. 

“In addition to reversing the direction of the energy, I changed how it interacts with memory; instead of blanketing them over it pulls certain ones out and plays them on repeat. Namely, it pulls out those memories one would most like to forget.”

“Jesus.”

“Believe it or not, the futures show this being an exercise in empathy. The effects are not permanent, and when she comes out of them she will swear off villainy and move to Key West.”

He does not add that this seems a fitting quid pro quo for the fact recovering from her device means memories of his childhood appear without warning more than they usually do.

Duck is no longer beside him. There’s a metallic crack, and the hero drops the two halves of the ray on the ground. 

“Just to be safe.”

“A wise idea, chivalrous one.”

They finish up at the hidden lab, and the Moth and The Green Knight disappear into the Pine Guard base. Twenty minutes later, Indrid Cold and Duck Newton step inside their home. It’s warm and comfortable, bustling with love and promise. 

Just like Indrid remembers. 

[vixenpen]

Caged Hearts

((Hawks x Miku ((OC))

(Chap 15. Internal Affairs)

Keigo awoke to a nagging beeping, recognizing it immediately as his work phone.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath.

Untangling himself from the warm covers, he rubbed his eyes.

What the hell time is it?

He groped the nightstand until his fingers brushed against his phone.

Keigo glanced over to make sure Miku was still asleep, before checking the screen. Professor Horikoshi’s name lit up the display.

With a tired sigh, he answered.

“Wassup doc?”

“I’m sorry to call so early, Hawks” Professor Horikoshi replied apologetically, “but we found something out of the ordinary while looking through the file bank at the lab.”

Keigo sat up against the headboard, causing Miku to stir beside him. She sighed deeply and shifted on her side, little hums escaping her.

“Shit.” He muttered. “Hold on, doc.”

Keigo began stroking Miku’s platinum curls until her breathing slowed again. Then he quietly rolled out of the bed, Careful not to disturb her any further, before tiptoeing out of the room.

Once the door was shut behind him, he turned his attention back to the professor.

“What did you find?” Keigo asked.

“The research we’d compiled on the nomu’s is missing.” Horikoshi explained.

A pit of dread formed in Keigo’s gut. His feathers rustled as if already sensing danger.

“It seems that was all they stole.”

“That’s good.”

“There’s one more thing,” Horikoshi added. “The sample we took from those creature’s pod, has traces of that of the nomu. Like an extremely low level nomu of sorts.”

“That’s bad.” Keigo sighed.

He leaned back against the door of Miku’s room and mussed his hair; mind already spinning with the possibilities.

Focus, Keigo. One thing at a time.

“Does anybody else know about this, doc?”

“Just us and the police department.”

“Let’s keep it that way for awhile.”

Keigo checked his phone screen. 7:45am.

“I’ll be there in an hour and a half.”

“Alright then, see you soon, Hawks.”

“Dammit.” Keigo let out a low, frustrated growl, his head thudding back against the door.

Everytime he started to unwind, even just a little bit, something happened.

“Keigo?” Miku’s tired voice called out.

The tension in his shoulders relaxed a bit at the sound of her soft voice.

He re-entered the room, a gentle smile on his face.

“Morning Angel.”

“Morning, Kei.” Miku yawned.

Her bleary, periwinkle eyes blinked up at him and her tangled curls danced around her face.

Cutie.

“You out?”

“Unfortunately,” he sighed.

“There should be sweatpants that fit you in the closet,” Miku yawned, “don’t worry about your suit. I’ll have it dry cleaned for you.”

“Mmm,” Keigo leaned over her, resting his arms on either side of her head. “This domestic side of you is cute, Angel. You trying to earn the title of Mrs. Takami?”

“Is that your last name?” She asked, looking up at him.

“Maybe you’ll find out one day.” He replied, kissing her forehead.

Miku groaned. “Do you have to go?”

Keigo gave her a sad smile. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay cuddled up next to her. To start the day together with morning sex, breakfast, and a shower. Unfortunately, life had different plans for him.

“I do. I’ll text you when I can, ok?”

“Ok. Back to life, back to reality.” Miku sang in response.

He chuckled. “Bye babe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day proved to be Keigo’s busiest one since the aftermath of the LOV showdown.

After he made it to his place (because there was no way he was showing up to work with pussy on his breath and hickies all over his neck!) to change into his hero costume, he darted to the Quirk Research Institute.

Outside of the stolen files, nothing else in the file bank was out of place. There was no indication that whoever had stolen the classified research had struggled to find what they were looking for.

This only solidified Keigo’s suspicions that whatever was going on, was an inside job. The good thing about that was, it narrowed his list of suspects. The bad news was that it included several of his best sidekicks.

Thankfully, Konan’s plant started today. Keigo had looked over her file last weekend, and had expedited her on boarding paperwork to have her start effective immediately.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Mendez.”

“Mariya, please, and the pleasure is mine.”

The young, Hispanic woman with her doughy baby face and gentle brown eyes, didn’t look like much, but according to her file; her quirk and history told a different story.

Her quirk, Voodoo Doll, allowed her to injure any person she looked at by injuring her own body and without sustaining said injury or pain. She could also reverse said damage.

To add to her quirk, she had significant training in boxing and a black belt in Judo.

“Gotta say, you weren’t what I was expecting, Mariya.”

“Funny,” Mariya shot back. “You were exactly what I was expecting.”

Keigo laughed. Mariya didn’t, but the corners of her mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile.

“Might I ask, who else we’re waiting for, for this meeting, Hawks?” She asked.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Keigo grinned.

“That should be the man of the hour now. Come on in kid!” He called out.

Tokoyami entered the office, wearing a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans. A backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, hey! Now it’s a party!” Keigo brightened genuinely at the sight of his young intern.

“Good to see you again, Hawks.” He said, a small smile stretching his beak.

“Hey there, kid! Same to you. This is our new recruit, Mariya Mendez. Mariya, this is my intern Tokoyami!”

Mariya inclined her head in a bow.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” Tokoyami returned the gesture.

“Alright,” Keigo clapped, jumping to his feet. “Now that they introductions are out of the way, how ‘bout a field trip?”

Thirty minutes later, the trio had flown the coop to a nearby office building to post up on the roof. Keigo had carried a reluctant Mariya and Tokoyami flown himself.

Keigo might have cried a little internally.

“Sorry to drag you two up here, but I feel safer this way.”

“And you wouldn’t have felt safe in a car?” Mariya complained. Her legs were shaky and her face was pale.

Keigo shot her an apologetic grin.

“Is it really that bad, Hawks?” Tokoyami asked.

“Oh yeah.” Keigo replied. “Especially after what happened today.”

“Today?” Mariya asked.

Keigo explained the situation to his new recruits. Starting with the bank robbery and ending with the stolen Nomu research.

“So you think it’s one of your sidekicks?” Tokoyami replied, touching his fingers to his chin thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

“It’s the only explanation at this point,” Keigo replied. “the question is: who? which one?”

Keigo’s wings twitched, lifting him off the ground. He paced through the air back and forth before the eyes of his interns.

“Until we know who we can rule out, everyone except the people on this roof are suspects. Mariya, I’ll compile a list of people for you to check out.”

“Roger.” Mariya nodded.

“Tokoyami, you’re coming on all my patrols.”

“Got it.” He nodded. “Do you think whoever’s behind those is trying to finish what the league started?” Tokoyami asked, worriedly.

Keigo nodded, solemnly.

“The good thing is, I don’t think they have nearly the resources or the power that the meta liberation army had. I’m willing to bet, they’re just getting started—gathering resources for now. Which, if I’m right, gives us the advantage. From now on, we’re doubling down on our efforts, starting with how we’re going to handle what’s happening internally.”

Y’all I feel like I suck at the action portions of this fic. Like I’m not pacing them well or something. Anyway, thank you to the same 5 ppl who love my OC and her ship with Keigo. I love their ship

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Wednesday

So, still heavily focused on editing my MEBB at the moment, but got inspired for Alenkoats again today, so have a bit of them. (Really, really rough, mostly just some ideas dropped into a doc more than an actual part of a story)...

Setting: Arrival in Andromeda, 630 years after Next Stop... takes place

Characters: Kaidan Alenko, Major (Ben) Coats, Dr. Harry Carlyle (because I can! lol)

Under cut for length

(I should probably be worried at it currently is 666 words, shouldn't I...?)

~~~

Fighting his way to consciousness is something Kaidan has never enjoyed, especially if from a deep, sound sleep. Good rest is difficult to come by even on the best of days, and slogging through a muddled, hazy, morass isn’t a good way to get started…

His vision starts to focus, hazy around the edges, more memory than anything. Ben’s face grinning down over his cryo pod as he says, “Next stop, Andromeda…” Watching the lid to his cryo pod close as he replies, “I’ll see you in the morning…”

His chest heaves as he hurriedly sucks in a deep breath and nearly chokes. A hand at his shoulder squeezes reassuringly, a deep rumbling voice murmuring something unintelligible because his ears suddenly feel filled with cotton…

Blinking rapidly, adrenaline surging through him, Kaidan wills his sight to come into focus, his ears to clear, the ache in his chest to ease…

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Kaidan blinks one last time, the hand at his shoulder squeezing again and a moment later familiar slate-grey eyes come into focus before him. “B-Ben?” he manages through a strangled cough. The trademark smirk is there, one side of his lips tilted upward at a rakish angle. Strong jaw, dark hair, and just a fleeing glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. “We… made it?”

Coats nods and lowers his hand from Kaidan’s shoulder to take his hand, the smirk sliding into a wide grin. “That we did. Six hundred thirty years after we left, or there ‘bouts, if you can believe it.”

Six hundred thirty years… Gulping, Kaidan struggles to sit up. Coats slides an arm around his back in support. “Not so fast, we’ve got plenty of time now.”

The rest of the room comes into view around him and Kaidan nods… then realizes this isn’t the cryo bay of the Vaul. “Where am I?”

“Medical bay on board Ark Hyperion,” a new voice replies from Kaidan’s right. Turning, he meets a silver-tipped dark-haired older man in a lab coat with a gentle smile. “Dr. Harry Carlyle.”

Kaidan looks over at Coats. “Hyperion? Why am I here? Where’s the Vaul?”

“All’s good,” Ben assures him. “We arrived in Andromeda about six weeks ago. They woke me first –” Ben grimaces. “– instead of the Second Human Spectre like they were supposed to. Guess if something had to go wrong, that was it, right?”

There is a tightness in his words that Kaidan doesn’t miss. Yes, he was supposed to have been one of the first team to be woken up, along with Urdnot Wrex, Urdnot Bakara, and several other dignitaries. Searching Coats’ face now, he can only guess that whatever happened had been bad. Oh, shit! “Yeah.”

Coats nodded. “Right. So, after sorting out what was what, I got to talking to the doc here about that leg injury of yours and he agreed to fix you up. Free of charge.” His smile widened and included the doctor this time. “Couldn’t argue with that, right?”

Fix me up… Kaidan pulled back the blanket lying across his lower body to find bandages in the area of his old wound.

“How does it feel?” Dr. Carlyle asked.

“Uh… Fine?” Which is odd in itself, because even sitting it used to ache. Frowning, he bent his knee, drawing his leg upward towards his chest. “Pretty good, actually,” he admitted after moving it around a bit more. “Thanks, doc.”

The doctor nodded. “Glad I could help. Just be careful on it for a while, until you get the hang of being on your feet again. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Is he good to go?” Ben asked.

Harry ran an omni-tool scan over Kaidan and made a few additional notations. “If he can walk over to his things,” he pointed to a set of shelves across the bay, “and collect his things, I’d say so.” He patted Kaidan’s shoulder. “Just don’t rush things, okay?”

Ben snorted softly. “He’s the slowpoke.”