#so do they have a set ‘most cover route out the city’?

[aholefilledwithtwigs]

Would love to find a resource about the behavior of suburban whitetail deer that isn’t focused on hunting or protecting your garden

I want understand how my neighbors are adapting not fucking murder them

[russellsppttemplates]

Keep them away (Max Verstappen)

Even though it was part of his job, Max's rules were clear: no one could get close to you or the children

Note: english is not my first language. A couple of blurbs originated this one! I'm not sure how I feel about it, if I like it or not tbh...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"I want to talk to you about something, liefje", Max said as you walked around the bedroom, laying out your clothes for the next day and taking off the jewellery you didn't like to sleep with.

"Is everything alright?", you asked pulling the covers and joining him in bed, holding his hand in yours and interlocking your fingers.

"It didn't occur to me until last week that now Finn can walk into the paddock without being on your arms or mine, and the stroller can only hide so much, and there will come a time when it will be the same for Julia, and I don't want the kids' faces on media in such a free and uncontrolled way", he admitted.

The last Grand Prix you attended made it real tp you. It seemed such a big step and something you thought people would respect intuitively, but the moment the photographers swarmed you and you had difficulty walking along the paddock to get to RedBull, you had enough.

"Me neither, but I get what you mean. Last week, I had to keep telling Finn to come close to me so I could sort of cover his face", you offered, "is there something we can make for that, though?", you wondered.

"Yes, I spoke to the team and they know about these forms where you can grant photographic allowances to certain photographers if they want to record or take pictures if we go down that route - it states who is allowed and what terms and conditions they can do it in inside the paddock. And there's also one for outside the paddock, if we sign it, it will mean no one can take pictures of you or the kids outside of the paddock and we'll be supported legally in case someone breaches it", Max assured.

"I like the sound of that, it does soothe my heart", you tapped your chest with your palm.

"I'll have them draw up the forms and then we can go over them together and sign then", he smiled, pulling you to his chest.

"I'm not saying we are keeping them away from the world - even though that would hardly be an issue - but having a restricted set of people in who we trust is doable", you mused, resting your head on his chest completely and kissing his skin, "I don't want them to do whatever they please with my little ones", you grumbled.

"Mama bear is out, hm?", Max chuckled, "but I agree, love, I wouldn't want it either".

.

"I can get the stroller, Sophie", you called for your mother in-law, letting her take Finn's hand instead as you walked out of the hotel, Max by your side as you strolled around the ses front, making some time before your lunch reservation.

Max wasn't racing until the next weekend, so you were making the most out of family time you could. To make things easier for you on the flight home, Sophie offered to come with you so you wouldn't have to fly back on your own with two kids since Max was flying straight to the city where the Grand Prix was being held.

"Is she going to fall asleep on the way there?", you peeped at the little girl, eyes droopy even though she tried her best to look at you and Max, "she didn't sleep all that well, so probably", your husband shrugged his shoulders, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walked behind Sophie and Finn.

At first, Max thought it was his mind making things up and that people were taking pictures of the beach and the architecture details, so he set his guard down. When you sat down for lunch, though, it was obvious.

"They're taking pictures of us, aren't they?", Max asked as he pointed with his eyes to the group of three people holding cameras, suddenly pulling them from eyesight the moment they saw you both stare at them as one of the waiters came to the table.

"Mr. Verstappen, I'm sorry to bother you, but that group is asking if they can come closer for some pictures and it didn't seem like it was our place to decide that", he explained as Max sighed, "thank you for that - I'll go talk to them just now. We didn't want any of this to happen or for you, your colleagues or your clients to be bothered by this, it wasn't our intention", Max assured as the waiter nodded before excusing himself.

"I'm going to talk to them, I'll be right back", he told you, kissing the top of your head and stepping closer to them.

"Hello, it has come to my understanding - correct me if I'm wrong even though I'm probably right - that you're taking pictures of me and my family, and I won't allow it", he stated firmly but politely, not wanting to cause a scene despite his blood boiling.

"It was just of you, we'll edit everything else out, if we could jus-", one of them tried and Max drew the line there.

"We have made it clear! When my family is in the paddock, Finn, Julia and Y/N can be photographed by a closed group of photographers - and I know who they are because we allowed them and none of you are them! We are outside of the paddock so no one is allowed to take pictures of them to begin with, and then you're disrespecting the other people who work and who are eating here. We have given strict guidelines that are clear as we won't accept this!", Max spoke sternly.

Back at the table, Sophie took the pencil case out of the backpack so Finn could draw while you waited for the food,

"Why is papa talking to those people? Do we know them?", Finn asked, "they're taking pictures of us and papa and mama don't want that, so papa is telling them that", you explained, knowing your clever boy would catch up with it sooner than later and knowing honesty would be the way to go.

"You'd think they would get the boundaries you've set", Sophie told you, "especially with the kids around, it's a no brainer".

"They're always looking for anything to make a big great story of - if those pictures ever see daylight, they'll probably start calling me names and making assumptions they have no business or information to make", you groaned.

Max came back, sitting on the chair you saved for him, "they really didn't want to budge and they kept asking if they could "just take a few more" like I hadn't just told them that what they were doing was breaching agreements", he groaned lightly to make sure Finn didn't hear too much, looking at the stroller to see Julia was still taking a nap.

"Did you see the e-mail I sent you, liefje?", Max asked over FaceTime now that he had wished goodnight to both kids, meaning he had your attention all to himself now.

"I saw it was a statement, I didn't get to read anything else", you added, getting your iPad to read it properly.

"The team helped me make a statement about your privacy and the kids', so nothing else happens again", he stated.

Earlier this week, the social media department at RedBull noticed a photo of you circulating the press platforms, and judging by the location, you were indeed back home and not somewhere in the paddock to surprise Max, making the photo a breach of contract.

"Hopefully they take the hint", Max sighed, keeping his calm and collected attitude he wanted you to have too. For anyone else, Max always seemed rash to the point some considered rude. But when it involved his family, he knew how to go about it, wanting his children to learn and know he was protecting you and how he would never allow anyone to disrespect you like that.

"We'll be fine, and I genuinely hope that, from the way we mentioned legal consequences, people actually take it seriously", you shrugged your shoulders. It wasn't that you didn't care about it, but rather you realized there was only so much you could control, and you wouldn't let that control your life, "we'll see how it goes, okay?", you checked over, "anyway, how does the car look for qualifying?", you changed the subject as the cats sat on your lap.

.

"Mama, I'm scared", Finn muttered, clinging closer to you and hiding his face on your neck. That was all it took for you to let your mama bear instincts out, holding your son as you walked past them, looking for a security member that could escort you to the RedBull hospitality as it was harder to push the stroller when you had to carry Finn as well.

"Excuse me, Excuse me!", you yelled, "I'm sure you know you're not allowed to take pictures, so I would appreciate it if you didn't do it, much less when my children are here!", you spoked, catching a few photographers off guard and the attention of one of the security staff by the entrance.

"I'll help you with her if that's okay", he quesioned as his hand went straight to the stroller, "yes, please", you breathed out, holding Finn close to you and whispering soothing words on his ear, "it's okay, my love, we're okay".

Stepping inside the hospitality, you set your things down and sat Finn down on the sofa so you could get Julia in your arms, soothing her cries.

"Thank you so much, it was getting crazy out there", you said, holding your daughter's head to your chest and bouncing her.

"No problem, glad I could help", the security guard excused himself to go back to his spot as you looked at Finn.

"Are you okay, love?", you wondered as Julia's cries quieted down.

"I didn't like how they were yelling and running", he told you, "I thought papa said they only did it when we were there", he pointed to the people walking outside, "That's true, they shouldn't do it outside", you explained, "I'm sorry they scared you, but you're safe with me and with papa, okay?", you added, kissing his once again on his forehead as Max appeared.

"Hey", he kissed the top of your head, Julia's and then Finn's, "I heard what happened. Are you two okay?", he asked, looking at Finn who pulled him into a hug, "Finn was a bit shaken up by it, but we've taken some deep breaths and we are going to stay inside for today, isn't that right, love?", you saw him nod.

Finn fell asleep on top of him soon after, "I have spoken to the lawyers, they will be taking the legal actions necessary for this situation. Are you sure you're okay?", Max questioned again.

"We are, Max. It shook him up a little bit because they were so close to us - and the stroller could only keep them so far -, and I told them a few times that we were outside of the paddock, but they just wouldn't listen", you frowned, "it's not great, but if this means you guys are safe, I don't care about anything else. I want you safe, all of you", he smiled, kissing your cheek and pulling you so your side rested against his torso.

"I hate having to yell at people, poor Julia just looked at me like I was mad and Finn was a little shaken up", you mumbled, "but they wouldn't move away, no matter how many times I told them to, only when the security guard was near us was I able to free up space from them".

"Don't worry about that, they're the ones in the wrong, not us", Max comforted.

[copperbadge]

Routing the El

@mbta-unofficial recently "routed" the T in Boston, riding through every T stop in the city in a single day. I love public transit and random fuckery so this appealed to me instantly, but even @mbta-unofficial admitted they didn't know how they'd route the El here in Chicago. I know nothing about routing and very little about certain parts of the El even after living here as long as I have, but I'm willing to take a swing.

The first question is one of simple logistics: are we riding every stop, or every train that passes through a stop?

In other words, there are many stops that multiple lines pass through, and the question is whether it's enough to pass through each stop on a train, or do I need to ride the entirety of the line, then backtrack and hit the same stations on a different line? This wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for the purple line, which is an express from Evanston that covers much of the northern red line branch and a huge whack of the brown line as well. If I'm covering lines, I almost certainly need to start with purple.

Moreover, do I include the yellow line, which is an extension built to serve basically a single suburb? It feels snobbish to ignore it; it is outside of Chicago proper but then so are several stops on the blue and green. But it also feels very Chicagoan not to acknowledge it, and it is going to be a massive pain in the ass to include because there's nothing near it. I would just be riding out to the Dempster-Skokie stop and back, or starting at Dempster-Skokie and then having to backtrack up the purple line.

Which leads to the next question: where to begin? @mbta-unofficial's route began at one of the termini, Braintree, which they traveled to get to, so in theory one could, and probably should, begin at an endpoint, but the T also isn't structured exactly like the El; there is a central exchange, but nothing as cohesive as the Loop, around which almost every line circulates and which every line at least touches except the yellow. But living downtown, I could also begin at a Loop station, or a red or blue line station that touches the Loop.

So let's set some rules for the initial run, and once that's accomplished, we'll see about adding complications.

Every station, not every line. As long as I touch every station while on a train, it counts.

However, if the stations are discrete, I have to hit them twice -- in other words, I have to touch Monroe and Jackson twice, once on the Red and once on the Blue, because the platforms are accessible to each other but separated by a passageway several blocks long. I'll have to touch Lake twice, once on the Red, because it's both elevated and underground.

I'm going to disqualify the Yellow not because it's suburban but because it doesn't touch the Loop. This is the rule I'd most likely revisit if I was going to attempt this several times.

I am also going to disqualify the purple line, not via the "loop exception" but because it will knock almost half the red line off the map for me in about a third of the time it would otherwise take, but even so having to start at Linden kind of fucks me. Given the purple line's extremely limited running time, there's an argument for disqualification, but this is another rule I'd revisit on a second attempt.

Removing the purple line makes routing a lot easier. And I think the starting point then becomes both obvious and poetic: we start at O'Hare, where it costs double to board the train.

O'Hare blue line all the way to Forest Park is an easy first leap, and from there I think it's most rational to bus to the green at Harlem/Lake and ride it all the way to Cottage Grove. From Cottage Grove, backtrack to Garfield to cover the Ashland-63rd leg of the green line, and then again back to Garfield to disembark and walk to the Garfield red line, which I can take south to 95th/Dan Ryan, then north again to Roosevelt (another two-touch stop). I can catch the Orange at Roosevelt south to Midway and back north again unless there's a fast bus to 54th/Cermak; presuming there's not, depending on stop times I can either take the Orange line back to hit any missing loop station or transfer to the Pink and then take that out to 54th/Cermak. Either way I need to get back into the Loop and catch the Brown out to Kimball, then back to Belmont (or Montrose and bus to Wilson), north to Howard, then south to Harrison on the Red line. Convenient to end at my home station -- I didn't plan it around that, but it's a nice touch.

If I really wanted to get ADHD about this I could sit down with timetables and work out ways to catch trains within the loop to shave minutes off, but El timetables are essentially worthless these days.

I think that's a functional plan. Working off my base knowledge of the trains and also with the reminder that I'm pretty time-blind, I'm estimating:

Blue line O'Hare to Forest Park: 2hrs

Bus to Harlem/Lake: The 318 picks up every 15 minutes and takes 8 minutes, so guesstimate 30 minutes to be on the safe side.

Green Line Harlem/Lake to Cottage Grove: 1.5hrs

Cottage Grove back up to Garfield and down to Ashland/63rd: Again no idea, but probably at least 30 minutes

Ashland/63rd to Garfield and transfer to Red Line Garfield: 30 minutes?

Red Line Garfield to 95th/Dan Ryan and back to Roosevelt: 1.5hrs

Orange Line Roosevelt to Midway: 30 minutes

The 54B bus comes every 20 minutes and take 40 minutes to get from Midway to 54th/Cermak, which is still I thiiiink faster than doing Orange back to Washington/Wells and then Pink out and back. Mulling this one still. Either way, Pink line gets me to Clark/Lake

Walk to Washington/Wells, Brown Line around the loop to hit the missing Loop stations, to Kimball: 1hr

Kimball to Belmont: 30mins

Belmont Red Line to Howard: 1hr (Red line to Howard is HIGHLY variable, I've had it take anywhere from 40-90 minutes from Harrison)

Howard to Harrison: 1hr

About 13 hours in total, let's say my time to beat is 15 hours.

I can't do it this coming weekend; I have all-day events both days. I can't take a day off next week either, I'm going to be slammed at work ahead of an event. So my best bet is either Saturday or Sunday the 20th/21st, or taking Wednesday the 24th off...

Or this Friday. I could call in sick with few ramifications.

Well, I'll keep prepping for now -- find the bus I need from Forest Park to Harlem/Lake, then maybe run the whole route through Google Maps to see what it thinks the timing estimate would be. It might even have some ways to shave time off -- still looking at that Pink-Orange transfer and wondering.

And I need to find places around transfer points to take bathroom breaks since the El doesn't have public restrooms. I can probably get to a bathroom at Midway and back in the 12-minute delay time between arrival and departure...

[dallasgallant]

Time period post : Buses and public transport

This one extends a bit off of my post on car culture, as I’ll cover motorlodges but also public transportation! As usual this is sort of an introduction or crash course to the topic, I do encourage you to go looking if you want to learn more!

Public transport-

In the 60’s flying was still fairly expensive and formal, it was a really nice trip or more for business men or other upper middle or outright rich people. There was a matter of price but popularity and access also played a part, most people would likely prefer to drive or take a bus or maybe even a train!

Trains were still a huge part of transportation up until following WW2, after all there were huge efforts like the transcontinental railway in the 1860s to connect the country. They were still fairly popular long form travel up through the 40s and 50s (old movies can be evidenced to that) but as car culture began to rise and interstate highway were built - people shifted their focus to individual passenger vehicles and the freedom of control. The rail system was much more in tact than the remains today but was on the decline.

Busses on the other hand? Huge, especially in small towns (some may even still have trolly systems!) they’d be kept neat and relatively on time — it was also a way to travel! Some who either couldn’t afford or didn’t want to drive a long distance themselves could take a longer bus ride/charter busses and travel the country! Greyhound absolutely ruled the roost in this regard and is still sort of synonymous!

Similar to trains there were bus terminals alongside regular street side stops, it’d be returned to on its regular run or a place to hop onto the next one going a city or so over. Some big and nice stations had little tv chairs that I am obsessed with:

Ash trays and shoe shine stands, news stands and vending machines (hot drinks, candy, cigarettes.) and brochure stands are some other notable features. Yes people used to actually man shoe shine stations… I feel in modern day they’re the stand equivalent to a mall that’s somehow still standing.

Most buses you’d pay a few cents or dollars (depending, likely cents) wherever you’re picked up. But if you’re going a considerable distance. Like Tulsa to Detroit you’d buy a ticket and then show that, you wouldn’t just hop on.

This isn’t to say there aren’t still busses in America, but our towns are larger, cars are the main focus and busses have become a bit dirty and less reliable. Isn’t to say they aren’t still a thing, similar to trains.

“Milk run” - this is an interesting bit of slang I’ve heard from my grandmother to refer to a bus going on its complete route stopping at every small town along the way.

She took a bus by herself from one town to another that were a few hours apart from eachother… about 15 in the 60s and got stranded at a bus station. (Needless her dad chewed out the attendant.)

That story highlights the detail of kids traveling on their own! It was safe* enough if they were aware and knew things well, this would be more contained to a town. Not small children either more 8+ and teens.

Motor lodges-

For a good portion of their existence, Hotels were dedicated to long term stays and located in cities, usually bachelors or businessmen etc. or sometimes renting a room at an older woman’s home.

Motor lodges became the place for the average vacationer. “Motels.” It was more common to see independently owned ones but chains did arise, like Howard Johnsons. An absolute staple of the 60s and roadside Americana… it cannot be understated just how huge these places were- sometimes their restaurants would stand alone! They were nice, fun and amenity filled place, honestly almost a toned down resort of sorts.

Most motels you’ll see beds, shower, perhaps a tv etc. they’d be clean and comfortable.

A nicer motel you’d be set! A color tv, refrigerated air (ac), a heated pool , a cafe next door.

Motor lodges rose alongside automobiles, existing all the way back in the 30s in a slightly different form. They began to kick off in gimmick and style in the real height of the Route 66 tourism era.

The view of Flying and hotels also began to change by the end of the decade, flying became cheaper and incentivized. Hotels began to spring up and offer more amenities and push out some motels, these happening simultaneously.

[tachimichishrine]

Q6yuquqjq YOU'RE LIKE THE PERFECT TACHIHARA FANFIC Y/N WRITER I FUCKING LOVE YOU MATE❤️❤️❤️❤️ I have one silly offer, and ofc ofc I'll wait my sweet time for u to drop it (probably wait for decades like I'm so invested). Can you do some...fluff like the reader is so inlove and has been dropping hints to tachi. He knows but he wants the reader to say it to his face instead of hints.with the silly lines "I ain't a patient man, say it to my face" QJKSJSJS IDK HOW TO WORD IT BUT U CAN DO IT!!!!

<QIUQ8UE8U2WE (i'm the only tachihara fanfic writer sooo,,,)(unless i'm not...)(if there's someone else who writes for him pls tag me im desperate....) BUT RAH I FKIN LOVE YOU MORE YOU SEXY AHH ANON,, your offer is not silly it is majestically ethereal it deserves to be framed and hung in the louvre it belongs on a higher plane of existence... im so sorry it's short BUT URGH THE IDEA IS SO GOOD >

"impatient"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! jouno's sister! reader

warnings: none! take the fluff and frustrated tachi and flustered reader! (obviously some mild cursing and intended lowercase >///<)

it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that led to this.

"listen up, you bitch," tachihara seethed, pressing the tip of the gun against her temple, "this is our turf and you have no business being here."

"look sweetheart, this is all a misunderstanding," she said coolly, despite her heart pounding in her chest and the cold metal wrapped around her wrists.

and she wasn't lying. the series of events that led to her being tied to a metal chair somewhere in the port mafia's infinite supply of basements were peculiar, difficult to explain to the man who was threatening her life.

"any chance I could explain this all over some drinks?" she suggested with a chuckle before he dragged the gun down to her neck and pushed it up under her chin. "sheesh, okay, I guess not."

"having fun now, aren't we?" he nearly spat in her face, looking disgusted. "let's see how much you laugh when I put a hole in every one of your limbs-"

she shushed him then spoke in a whisper. "I think they're gone now, you can lay off the act."

tachihara sighed out of relief and moved to take the cuffs off of the detained woman.

"you're a real pain in my ass, you know that?" he whispered back, watching her get up and stretch her limbs. "I told you not to show up here."

"I'm sorry, I got carried away! I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hi... never thought you'd have another mafioso with you."

"you're gonna blow my cover," he said plainly, earning a pout.

their relationship was complicated.

jouno [_____], executive at the most notorious criminal organization in yokosuka, a city south of yokohoma, who still traveled back and forth for some occasional business. her current position was formerly filled by her brother saigiku, who left the underground in order to join the hunting dogs.

she, on the other hand, stuck the criminal route and even maintained contact with her sibling throughout the 6 years without ever switching sides. he never spoke about her to his colleagues except for a single grumble under his breath on one occasion where teruko was out of control, saying she was acting just like "his delinquent sister".

the matter was laid to rest until the first day of tachihara's infiltration into the port mafia. supposedly, since he had no street credit and would look extremely suspicious, she was his ticket in. she wasn't doing it out of the goodness of her heart (she was paid by the hunting dogs after being recommended by her brother), and yet tachihara found that she'd taken less than a week to get him accustomed to the underground life and put in a good word for him with the port mafia. she acted somewhat unprofessional at times, but there was no denying that she was good.

a little too good at times.

he was given impossible missions, to begin. the kind of things that set you up for failure unless you were a prodigy or had insane connections, missions hand-delivered by mori or any executive to test the new recruit. the first time, he was supposed to go and threaten the foreigners that had settled in on the edge of town and gotten themselves too comfortable with yokohoma. he relayed the information back to the hunting dogs, and jouno happened to mention it over the phone to his sister. she jumped in, ready to intervene before tachihara went in guns blazing and found himself confronting the notorious bulletproof brothers of brazil. she even told him where to buy knockout gas and gave him the rundown of the crime groups of the region.

once he got more familiar with his environment, she was needed less and yet contacted him at the same frequency. sometimes it was for essential information, other times it was for "company", as she put it. the ambiguity made it so that he didn't have any other choice but to respond to all of her calls.

tonight, she was in yokohoma for some business and decided to pop by and say hi. unfortunately, she did so right as he was having a chat with chuuya and they were caught in a peculiar situation. they played along, her pretending to be caught and him pretending to not know who she was while the executive spat in her face and asked what she was doing in this part of yokohoma. tachihara took charge of the situation and promised to find out, which led to them both roleplaying in the basement of the port mafia.

"oh, come on, you're gonna be fineeee," she tapped the tip of his nose, giggling without a care in the world. "chuuya knows I travel 'round these areas, and he's gonna catch wind of the deal I just closed earlier tonight, too. just tell him that and all's well. cheer up, tachihara, it's the underground. no one cares that much here."

he grumbled some kind of confirmation and watched as she held his hand and they both turned to human vapor. his consciousness paused momentarily and he came to a few streets down, wobbly on his feet as if his muscles were liquified.

"what the fuck, I didn't say—"

she shushed his protest, nodding her head to the motorcycle parked in front of them. "oh come on, stop complainin'. I'd ask you for drinks but most of the shops 'round here are mafia-owned and you'd be paranoid about gettin' caught, right? so hop on, I'll take ya to the other side of town, but you're paying, got it?"

"shit, you're gonna get me—"

"drunk. now hop on, pretty boy, we've got places to be."

he complied with a roll of his eyes, mildly pissed but unable not to reflect back the playful attitude she was giving him.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

the ride was rather long, but damn him if he complained.

she had her body leaning around the tank, legs constantly at work shifting gears and shifting their weight as the motorcycle sped up drastically. she didn't offer him a helmet, not even a jacket of any sorts, since she'd never crashed before. she whispered, "hold on, even if we're about to crash, and you'll be fine," and he didn't have any room to complain or ask questions.

her ability to turn herself and any objects directly in contact with her skin into vapor greatly resembled her brother's, but proved so useful in the sense that she could control herself in a gaseous state, floating around a room and gathering intel almost completely invisible, which made her such an effective executive. tachihara put two and two together and figured she'd evaporate both him and the bike if anything went south.

nothing went wrong. in fact, the fear for his life got him wrapping his hands around her waist and burying his face in her back. when he loosened up, she would do a dangerous maneuver and his grip would tighten once again as she laughed maniacally.

she laughed about it some more when they were finally inside the lounge owned by her own organization, sitting in a booth in the corner so that it was unlikely anyone would notice them— even if they did, she had the kind of authority that made it feel incredibly dangerous to even think about tattletalling. apparently, the sadism ran in the family.

"you really freaked out when I swerved around that huge truck," she giggled, taking a sip out of her mystery drink and sliding the glass over to him. "want a sip?"

"what is it?" he questioned, still drinking without waiting for her to respond. his face scrunched up in disgust and he pushed it back. "yurk, what is that? can't believe you drink that shit voluntarily."

"hey, it's my favourite flavour!" she frowned and punched his shoulder. "I'll tell them to charge you double for everything 'cause you deserve it."

"isn't everything we order free? I mean, since you practically own the shop, that's what the guy at the front told you."

"shut up, I'm trying to make a point."

the evening was quiet, almost no one around except the two of them. she asked how her brother had been, and he asked the same thing since he hadn't spoken to his coworkers in quite some time. she gave him more details on things he needed to watch out for, and then listened to his updates with enough attention that neither of them noticed her body gravitating towards his. by the time it was too early in the morning and the place was closing, their shoulders were practically rubbing and she was close enough to kiss him.

it was all she ever thought of. she lied to herself, said she was checking out the bandage on his nose and her gaze just dropped down to his lips while he spoke. staring long enough for him to notice - that was the plan - except he didn't seem to notice at all, or at least he pretended not to. laughing loudly at every semi-funny joke he made, distractedly taking her bottom lip in between her teeth, tilting her head when he spoke; she was running out of hints to drop. the only other thing she could think of was carving "I love you" into her forehead and praying he doesn't spontaneously go blind.

how dense can a man be?

she had a driver drop him off back in yokohoma; her heart ached when she waved him goodbye and goodnight.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

she couldn't stop thinking about him, day and night, and it was getting out of control. she would zone out in the middle of meetings and her colleagues were noticing. she explained that it was just some personal stuff, not that her chest felt hollow whenever she thought about him, not that she was catching herself thinking of gifts to get him, not that she was atrociously in love with him.

months, she spent months trying to drop hints. she had felt like she might accidentally evaporate when she had called him "pretty boy" for the first time, but he shrugged it off as if she hadn't said anything. once she got comfortable with that, she got touchy, and still no reaction. over the past week, she texted and called him nearly every night and even fell asleep on call on a few occasions. she checked the call log and he hung up nearly an hour after she drifted off, long enough to signal that he was listening to her snore softly but not long enough that he could've fallen asleep accidentally as well.

she kept losing hope as she thought about it, then regaining the confidence after seeing him again. it was getting unbearable.

"saigiku, I'm losing my mind," she said, sitting down at a bench on the pier. her legs kicked back and forth, and she sighed into the phone. "I don't understand guys. help me out here."

"ugh, don't you have girlfriends to talk about this shit with?" he groaned in annoyance on the other end. "I don't know. men are stupid. hope that helps."

she mimicked him. "thanks bro, you're tons of help."

"well, you won't tell me anything about the guy so I don't know what you want from me. either suck it up and say it to him or move on."

his advice wasn't bad, but it was simultaneously obvious that he couldn't care less. she rolled her eyes and changed the topic, instead listening for what felt like hours while he ranted about his dumb colleague. she wondered whether the jounos were really just bad at understanding people.

once the call was over, she took a deep breath of the ocean breeze and closed her eyes. nearly falling asleep on the bench, she was roused by her name being called out, a familiar voice.

"hey, tachihara," she smiled softly at him, seemingly exhausted (from all the nights spent rolling over in bed, thinking about him).

"you said you had intel?" he takes a seat next to her, trying to play it cool in case they were spotted, despite the light fog and the lack of anyone being out this late at night.

nodding, she handed over a folder filled with the information she collected about the next inspectors in yokohoma, the ones who were going to try to naively take down the port mafia and ultimately fail.

"they have a few operations going on, one about your buddy hirotsu. they might start digging into you too, and you don't want them finding out. deal with them as if them finding your identity was a death sentence, because it might as well be."

the information was true, but nothing in the folder was important. she just wanted to see him again.

"so..." he leafed through the papers, "anything I need to look out for?"

the millions of hints I keep dropping you.

"nothing particular, I think. they'll probably aim for more important mafia figures, so you'll be glossed over as a new recruit. someone experienced will likely take care of them before you need to."

"okay, thanks," he made the motion to get up, but stopped himself. "...are you in yokohoma for long?"

"just the night, my driver's picking me up in a few hours," she smiled reassuringly at him. "why?"

"huh? no reason, just wonderin'." he got up this time and nodded at her. "thanks for the drop, you didn't hafta do that."

I'm in love with you, you fool, of course I did.

"oh, it's not a big deal. anything for a friend."

more than a friend. fuck, you look gorgeous in the moonlight.

she caught herself watching his back as he walked away. her hand reached out, as if to physically catch him as he slipped away, then she cursed herself.

"hey, tachihara? are you in a rush to go anywhere?"

he turned around and shot up a brow. her smirk felt genuine.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

the idea was stupid, to combine both of their abilities together to try to get the best view of the night sky. no city light in their way as they stood a few hundred meters from the ground. she beat up the metal roof of a small car and pulled it off so that they could place it on the ground. they both sat down on top of it, one of her hands holding him while the other's palm flattened out on the sheet of metal. evaporating; within seconds, they were among the clouds. she warped them back and he activated his ability to carry both of their weights.

suspended in the sky, suspended in time.

"never seen the stars this clearly before," she murmured, feet dangling over the edge as she laid down. "living in the city really takes away from the small things, doesn't it?"

"guess so," he said, doing the same as she did.

silence. nothing except the breeze and the frigid air and their breathing.

"the stars are beautiful," she said, dumbly, not knowing what else to say.

"yeah," he responded simply.

more silence. she could've sworn he could hear her heart pounding.

"...is it heavy to hold both of us up?"

"not really."

it was getting painful.

"shit, it's cold up here."

"uh huh."

she wasn't lying, it really was cold. but at least the numbness in her fingers took over for the numbness in her mind.

"should we head down?"

"sure."

she held onto the plate, then reached for his hand. she hesitated. it felt like she was always making the first move, always trying to do something, and now it was feeling all wrong. she just wanted him to confirm anything, tell her anything, anything at all.

she got over herself, took his frozen hand in hers and brought them back down.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

she took her brother's advice and got over herself.

of course, she still filled him in on anything he needed to know and she occasionally tried to talk with him, but it was as if he was purposefully avoiding not only her hints, but anything at all that she did.

so, she was quite surprised when she found that he'd left her a message telling her to show up at a bar in between the two cities that evening.

her leg bounced uneasily while she sat at a table, drinks already ordered but her glass toyed with between her fingers while she waited. thankfully, it wasn't long before he arrived, amber eyes catching hers from across the room.

"hey," she smiled, trying to repress the butterflies and keep a level head. "what did you— huh?!"

tachihara had grabbed her arm with a tight grip, firmly pulling her up to her feet as she complied, confused.

"ow, lay off my arm— I'll follow you but where the fuck are we going? I ordered drinks, y'know, feels like a waste..."

"will you shut the actual fuck up?" he interrupted again, now pulling her outside of the bar completely and pushing her against the wall. "are you fucking stupid?"

"what the hell? what's wrong with you, tachiha-"

"I'd ask you the same thing. look, I'm not dumb. I can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest right now."

"wha-"

"look, I ain't a patient man. just say it to my face."

it took his stern expression, the way he was almost trapping her against the brick wall of the building and looking as serious as she'd ever seen him to realize that they were both thinking the same thing.

"what, do you wanna hear that I like you? you're gonna make me sound like a lovesick schoolgirl," she chuckled, using humour to envelope her confession so that whatever came next would hurt less. or so, she hoped.

"not good enough."

she narrowed her eyes at him. "the fuck do you mean, not good enough? I've been trying to drop you hints for the past century and your dense ass wasn't having it, all of a sudden you're acting distant, then you're pulling me out of a bar and asking me to confess to you? fine, you wanna hear about how fucking stupid I am around you? you wanna hear how I read over every message you've ever sent me before I go to sleep, how I can't do shit without seeing something that reminds me of you, how I feel like I'm going to combust into a thousand fucking pieces whenever I see you smile at one of my lame jokes? you wanna hear about every time I told myself I'd say something and then I back out of it? you wanna—"

she stopped talking as soon as his hand wrapped around her neck, fingertips intertwined with her hair and thumbs running upwards along her ears so he had a good enough hold to pull her into his lips.

maybe it was everything she'd ever imagined, or maybe it wasn't. who cares. he was kissing her.

she didn't know what to do, how to kiss him back when he was pressing into her like he wanted this as badly as she did. her body went along with his, allowing him to push her harder against the wall and kiss her deeper. it didn't end, her lips opening up and panting softly into his mouth while his tongue took over. he drew pictures of her into the roof of her mouth, and she was drunk on his spit by the time he pulled away.

"fucking finally," he breathed out, chest rising and falling against hers.

"I'm so goddamn confused," she giggled back, "not that I'm complaining."

"you didn't just drop hints, you threw them at my fuckin' face, [_____]. I was waiting for you to make the first move and you didn't, so I tried somethin' else to see if you'd get sick and tired and finally say it. but you didn't, and I wasn't gonna wait any longer."

"you could've just asked me first, you dipshit."

he grinned that stupid, smug grin she couldn't get over. "yeah, but then I wouldn't have heard your little speech there."

"oh, fuck you." her words didn't match her actions, grabbing handfuls of his jacket and pulling him in for another kiss.

for an impatient man, he felt like he waited his whole life for this moment.

[yan-san-yan]

Wanderer post-Irminsul pre-memories

The Avidya Forest had fallen into an eerie silence. The wildlife, wisdom born of instinct, had retreated to their shelters as the sky wept furiously upon the land. Yet, amidst this tempest, a solitary figure cut through the curtain of rain, his steps as steady as a metronome.

The lone wanderer who had traversed Teyvat, fresh from his stay in Port Ormos, set his way towards wherever his legs would take him.

The snippets of conversation he'd overheard at the port flickered through his mind. Merchants discussing trade routes, scholars debating ancient texts, travelers sharing tales of distant lands— all potential seeds for his next journey.

A sudden squelch and a muttered curse interrupted. Around the bend trundled a merchant's caravan, its wheels struggling against the sodden earth.

"Blasted weather!" the gruff voice boomed. The merchant wrestled with the reins of the sumpter beast. His eyes, squinting against the downpour, suddenly widened as they fell upon the Wanderer.

"By the Archons!” The merchant stared, slack-jawed, as if witnessing an apparition materialize from the very rain itself. “Where did you come from?"

The Wanderer tilted his head, sending a cascade of rainwater from the brim of his hat. His response, when it came, was as calm as a still pond amidst the storm's fury.

"The road behind."

A sound of part disbelief, part amusement left the merchant. “I can see that! But out in this weather? You're drenched to the bone!"

In that brief moment, the merchant caught a glimpse of eyes that seemed to hold the weight of centuries, at odds with the youthful face they resided in. Something about it sent an eerie chill though the bones.

Probably the storm.

"This is nothing. I’m used to traveling alone.”

The merchant shook his head. "Well, you won’t be traveling alone much longer. Hop on. I'm bound for Sumeru City. At least there you can seek shelter, kid. "

The Wanderer stood motionless like a statue. Then, with a slight nod that might have been mistaken for a trick of the light, he moved towards the cart.

"I'm Hakim," the merchant offered, flicking the reins to urge the beast onward.

"A pleasure,"

The cart moved, its wheels cutting fresh tracks in the muddy road. The relentlessly percussive pitter-patter on the canvas cover was punctuated by the occasional boom of thunder—nature's own applause to this impromptu duet of man and storm.

“So, what brought you out this far? An emergency of some sort, or unlucky timing?”

"Just passing through."

The merchant's brow furrowed. "Passing through? To where, if I may ask?"

"Sumeru City,"

A shake of the head sent droplets flying from Hakim's hair. "Well, you’re lucky you caught me heading that direction myself."

The Wanderer inclined his head slightly. "Your kindness is appreciated."

"Think nothing of it." Hakim waved dismissively, though a spark of curiosity still burned. "You’re from Inazuma, aren’t you? Though I must say, you don’t sound like it. Your accent is...difficult to place."

For a moment, the Wanderer was silent. When the answer was spoken, his words seemed to come from a great distance. "I've traveled far."

Hakim waited, expectantly for the rest. But that answer never came.

His gaze darted to his enigmatic passenger, who sat unnaturally still despite the jostling of the uneven road

What a weird kid.

Hakim muttered, words half-lost in the rain "You're a quiet one, aren't you."

The Wanderer's eyes flickered towards him for the first time since he’d hopped onboard. "What would you have me say?"

A huff of disbelief left him. "Oh, I don't know. Where you're from? What you do? Why in the world you're out here in this storm?" He squinted through the mist obscuring the path ahead. "Most folks have the sense to seek shelter in weather like this."

“Oh.”

The single syllable hung in the air, insubstantial yet somehow suffocating. Stunned into silence, Hakim was baffled by the ignorant and seemingly unfinished response. He cast a sidelong glance for the rest of the sentence, but the Wanderer’s eyes were still glued forward, unbothered by the look he received.

Yet again, Hakim found himself with more questions than answers.

Kids these days…

They rode on like this for a while. Noting how the Wanderer's gaze seemed to take in everything and nothing at once.

"Have you been to the city before?" Hakim tried again, breaking the silence once more.

"First time." As expected the response was swift, clipped, like the snapping shut of a book one had barely opened.

"Is that so? You're in for a treat then! The markets, the architecture, the Akademiya... Can’t find anything like it anywhere else in Teyvat."

More silence.

Unease crept up Hakim’s spine like ivy on a brick wall. It was a feeling he couldn't quite name – not quite fear, not quite worry, but a gnawing mix of both that set his nerves on edge.

Who was this kid, really? Why take a shortcut to the city if he seemed content to take his time in this downpour?

Frustration grew at the piling questions. It was like trying to converse with a statue – no, even statues sometimes seemed more forthcoming than this inscrutable traveler. It was impossible to hold a conversation with him!

The cart groaned its protest as it conquered another muddy puddle, sending a spray of earthy water over its wooden sides. Hakim grunted, and his grip on the reins tightened, knuckles white with the effort.

For just a moment, Hakim's eyes were drawn to the rippling surface. In that fleeting instant, he could have sworn he saw a figure reflected there – one that mirrored his passenger's form, but clad in vibrant reds and deep blacks instead of the muted blues.

A chill ran through him, one that had nothing to do with the rain. Why did looking at this stranger inspire a sense of dread deep in his bones? It was illogical, Hakim knew, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had invited something dangerous into his cart.

Enough! he mentally chastised himself. You're letting your imagination run wild, old man. It's just a shy kid.

Hakim shook his head, and the image was gone.

What was he even thinking? Was age really catching up with him? He must be losing his mind…

Clearing his throat to banish the last wisps of unease, he tried once more to start some small talk. "So, kid, what brings you to these parts? You don't seem like a merchant, and you're a bit far from the usual pilgrim routes."

The Wanderer's eyes flickered to him. "It depends. I go where the wind takes me."

"The wind, eh?” Spoken like a traveler. “Must be a mighty strong breeze to blow you all the way out here." He paused, then added with a wink, "Or are you running from something? A jilted lover, perhaps?"

For a moment, a flicker of confusion passed over the Wanderer's face, quickly replaced by that same impassive expression. "No. I seek...knowledge."

"Knowledge?" Hakim's bushy eyebrows rose. He hadn't expected that. "What kind?"

If it's knowledge he sought, he was in the right place.

The Wanderer's brow furrowed slightly, as if he was grappling with a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "Of myself," he murmured, almost too quietly for the merchant to hear.

Hakim opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. There was something in the Wanderer's tone – a vulnerability at odds with his composed demeanor – that gave the merchant pause.

Rain continued to pour, but the silence that settled between the two travelers was somehow louder than the storm.

He really is just a lost boy…

"Ah, now that's a journey that never truly ends, kiddo. You won’t be the first person nor the last to seek it.”

Sensing the boy’s discomfort, he shifted the conversation elsewhere. ”What's your trade, kid?”

The confusion on his face served as a question in and of itself.

Hakim scoffed. “Surely a growing man like you must eat, even while seeking enlightenment."

The Wanderer's fingers moved to trace the outline of a strange ornament hanging at his chest. It clinked softly, a metallic sound out of place in the organic forest.

"I...make things," he answered slowly, as if tasting the words. "Mechanical things."

"A tinker, eh?" Hakim's eyes lit up with interest. He leaned closer, cart creaking beneath him. "Now that's a useful trade. Say, my wife's got this old—"

A sudden flash of lightning interrupted, casting stark shadows across the Wanderer's face. For a moment, Hakim glimpsed something in those dark eyes – a flicker of confusion, of loss so profound it made his breath catch.

The Wanderer blinked, and the moment passed.

"You were saying?" he offered, his tone neutral but his fingers still worrying at the golden feather attached to the crafted ornament.

Trying to shake off the unease that had settled over him again, Hakim nodded. "Right, yes… You know, my wife's always complaining about this old music box of hers. Maybe you could take a look when we reach the city?"

A small smile touched the Wanderer's lips. "I could look at it."

Hakim grinned, pleased to have elicited even this small reaction.

"Well, kid, it’s a deal.”

***

The bazaar swirled around him - a treasure of sounds, scents, and colors just waiting to be discovered. Yet the Wanderer diligently arranged wares behind a stall. Each fruit found its place in a growing pyramid that seemed to defy gravity, a testament to his dedication to the task he had sought out.

"Higher, boy! Stack them higher!" The merchant's voice cut through. "We need to draw eyes!”

A slight nod was his response. Dark strands of hair fell across eyes that held no spark of self, only the determination to fulfill the purpose he had chosen. Another apple. Another careful placement. Rinse and repeat.

This was why he was here. This was what he had asked for.

A name was called out. The Wanderer's ears strained at the familiar sound.

She was here again.

The call went up from several stalls, vendors and merchants alike waving enthusiastically to catch her attention. It wasn't the eager call of shopkeepers to a potential customer, but the warm greeting extended to a dear friend.

As she approached each stall, Wanderer watched the same scene unfold time and time again. Merchants would press fruits, sweets, or trinkets into her hands, insisting they were gifts. The girl would protest, her hands raised in polite refusal. The vendor would insist more strongly, and she would decline once more, her smile never wavering.

This transaction of generosity and refusal, taarof as they called it, would continue, a custom unique to the locals here that the Wanderer found fascinating. He had learned much these past few days about the place and what kind of people lived here, all by observing this girl.

Kindness was currency, more valuable than Mora, and debts of gratitude were meant to be repaid many times over. Help freely given was expected to ripple outward, creating a web of mutual support and care. Everyone, it seemed, was part of one big family.

It was unlike anywhere else his feet had taken him. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to settle down after centuries of wandering. If it was here he might have a chance at finding his purpose… It didn’t seem as impossible anymore. To learn, and to understand.

But some lessons, it seemed, were harder to grasp than others. The easy camaraderie, the unspoken bonds of community— these were as foreign to him as the strange customs and vibrant colors of Sumeru itself.

Could he really belong among them when they had no idea what he truly was?

The apple in his hand felt suddenly heavy. His eyes drifted back to the Star of Sumeru as she navigated the bazaar with grace and genuine affection for those around her.

A realization settled over him like a cold mist – he was not part of this. He stood apart, an observer, a stranger to the warmth that seemed to flow so naturally between these people.

"Hey–! Have you been standing there this whole time?"

Apples rolled in every direction, disappearing under the feet of startled shoppers. The Wanderer blinked, momentarily stunned as his meticulous work scattered across the cobblestones. He looked down at the round red fruits still clutched in his hands, then at the now empty display.

A heavy, hopeless sigh left Hakim.

"Lad, I appreciate your help, but we can't afford mistakes like this. Those bruised apples will have to be sold at a discount now."

"I apologize, boss." The Wanderer quickly crouched down to pick up the fallen fruits. "My mind was elsewhere."

"Clearly," Hakim grunted. "Look, why don't you focus on restocking from the back? I'll handle the displays for now."

He felt Hakim’s eyes on him for a moment longer, then turned away with a small shrug. He could tell Hakim thought that he was odd, no doubt about it, but he was a hard worker. In the end, that's what mattered in a place like this.

“And no more daydreaming! Got it?” He heard Hakim shouting out in reminder.

By closing time, the day's mishaps had been mostly mitigated. As they packed away the remaining produce, Wanderer felt Hakim studying him with interest.

"You did better this afternoon," he offered. “Keep at it.”

The simple praise sent an unexpected thrill through him. He hadn't even had the chance to demonstrate his true skills, the things he truly excelled at, and yet... he was accepted. Valued, even.

“Thank you, boss.”

Link for the full story

[rockybloo]

I randomly got hit with this specific ass Licorice AU near the beginning of this month where Sweetheart and Bitterbat are point blank a hero and villain with no prior history together but they wind up hooking up and having a super secret relationship but Sweetheart winds up pregnant and having Angie but Sweetheart and Bitterbat remain on separate sides of justice.

So Angie spends her weeks with Sweetheart and some weekends with Bitterbat with some variations.

She doesn't have any siblings in this AU as, while Sweetheart and Bitterbat don't hate each other and do have deep feelings, they have more restraint on their hearts and are trying to keep a status quo of sorts.

One of the city's best heroes having a child with one of the city's most dangerous and brutal villains is highly taboo and the peak scandal any tabloid would kill over so Angie's parents do their best to keep their emotions down and give her the best childhood they can while keeping appearances.

This leads to a lot of telephone games where Angie is dropped off at Sweetheart's house after Bitterbat time and she tells her that "Dad said you looked really pretty today" and Sweetheart peeks out the door and sees him in the shadows on a nearby rooftop with his eyes glowing in the darkness before he poofs in a cloud of violet smoke.

And Angie is released into the shadows of the night by Sweetheart where she is scooped up by Bitterbat and Angie has a little goodie bag of chocolate covered strawberries courtesy of Sweetheart with a little note attached for Bitterbat's eyes only.

I don't know if Sweetheart and Bitterbat are actually designated as archenemies in this AU (aka her and him being assigned together like in canon) because the concept of her being a hero separate from him and his villainy really scrubs the mind right. Like her just being a free agent of a hero and him picking on various heroes. It hits the spot extra good whenever Sweetheart is taking on some villains at a crime bust and Bitterbat is one of the villains involved so that makes them running into each other more spicy because there is no fake fighting in this AU. They obviously don't aim to kill but they are more serious even if they still flirt.

Angie does ask occasionally why the two don't just get together like normal parents but they keep coming up with excuses even though they both would love to be together.

But in the mean time, they have that "Divorced but not really as they are madly in love but in mild denile but they have a kid together and are on good terms and occasionally while Angie is at school or with her aunties or uncles, they still hook up and make out" energy.

I imagine this AU winds up going down the route of Angie being what fully brings Sweetheart and Bitterbat together and saying "Fuck the world, I love you" and that's when they finally live in a house all together.

But for now, Bitterbat watches from a distance and thinks about how the mother of his child is the most beautiful being he's ever seen as she eats some ice cream with Angie.

And, after making sure Angie is asleep in bed, Sweetheart tunes in to news reports of Bitterbat's reign of terror and gorey battles against heroes with a blush as she admires how handsome and strong the father of her child is while he is covered in the blood of his enemies.

And occasionally Angie texts Bitterbat where she and her mom are when they are out and about because she knows he'll drop everything just to be near them.

It's led to a couple "surprise drop ins" from him that Angie plays dumb about and Sweetheart still hasn't caught on that her child is setting her up with her future husband.

Angie takes a lot from her mother in terms of looks (save for her batwing ears) but her personality leans heavily toward her father's mischievous ways.

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

We Should have Stayed in Gotham pt6

(Almost every Maribat fic I read has the akuma class going to Gotham. But tell me which is more likely, a class touring the city of crime, or a class touring the city of lights? So here it is, the Daminette fic that only I asked for, where Gotham goes to Paris, and the poor students have to grapple with the fact that they have competition for the most dangerous city in the world. I wonder what will happen?)

ao3 Beginning Previous

Ladybug set Damian down on the deck of a rather messy houseboat, and began assigning positions to her team. Damian could see the value of this location. It was an open area that was easy to quickly isolate and defend should the shore be over run, with many hiding spot and easy escape routes should the boat be taken, provided they all could swim of course. There was only one problem. “Should we tell the inhabitants to evacuate?” Damian asked as the heroes cleared the space for fighting.

“The family’s out,” Viperion said as he stashed some instruments. “We often use their boat for traps, because it’s so versatile.”

“Besides,” Ryuko said moving Damian into position on the far side of the open deck. “The Government gave us acquisition rights. If, during an akuma fight, Ladybug or any of the heroes require something from the citizens, then they are all obligated to follow her orders.”

Damian furrowed his brow as Ladybug swung away with Chat Noir to draw Princess Fragrance to them. “Isn’t that rather dangerous? I can see many ways that can be taken advantage of.”

“Maybe in Gotham,” Viperion said with a sly smile. “But Ladybug knows what she’s doing. Besides, once the Lucky Charm is thrown it’s best to just roll with it and don’t ask questions.”

“Speaking of,” Ryuko said pointing. And sure enough there was Ladybug and Chat Noir running over the rooftops. There was no sign of the zombies or the akuma, but Damian knew they weren’t far behind. The plan was for Ladybug to trick them into following her, not to drag them kicking and screaming.

“That didn’t take long,” Damian said as Ladybug landed.

“Didn’t think it would,” Ladybug said with a huff. “She's turned half of the arrondissement at this point. You sure you’re ok with this? You will be in direct danger. And if we fail to protect you—”

“You have not failed Paris yet,” Damian said simply as a matter of fact, “And I have seen the lists. You will not fall to an enemy this weak. I have faith in your abilities.”

“Oh my kwami,” Viperion muttered, “He really is like Ryuko.”

Ryuko elbowed the snake, but Ladybug ignored them studying him curiously, “Even the meagerest foot soldiers can fell the mightiest General, Spikes, for a blade is a blade and cares nothing for whose flesh it mars.”

Damian blinked in surprise, “That’s an Amazonian saying.”

Ladybug’s brow raised under her red mask. “It’s rare to find a male well versed in Amazonian proverbs.”

“I have had a very thorough education,” Damian said with his usual coldness. And before anyone else could comment a shrill voice rang out through the streets.

“Come out! Come out! My sweet Ice Prince! Don’t you want to thaw that frozen heart! Please! Come on out now!”

With a quick nod from Ladybug, Ryuko and Viperion vanished as she and Chat Noir took up positions in front of Damian as if they had just been cornered. Damian could easily see over Ladybug’s head, but in some ways, he wish he couldn’t. The small blonde ball of pink that had yelled at him in the classroom had transformed into something inhumane. Her skin was a monster green while her hair had turned into the color of chewed up bubblegum. Almost her entire body was covered in a black body suit that was puffed in places to give the illusion of a ballgown. Damian wanted to throw up. She looked like some maniac had smashed the Wicked Witch of the West and Cinderella together and tried to make it “modern.” It was so disturbing how wrongly demented she looked, that he had to say,

“Is part of Hawkmoth’s plan to burn the eyes of all of Paris, and thus ruin the fashion industry forever?”

Ladybug actually snorted as she tried to stifle her giggles, “You got an eye for design, Spikes?”

Damian shrugged, “I’m a Wayne, and my mother was very particular that I always knew how to dress appropriately for every occasion.” He left out the part where “dressing for the occasion” meant being able to go undercover in any environment and culture, but he seemed to get the point across, as Ladybug smiled and said,

“I can see how that would be useful. And for the record, when we do find Hawkmoth, I plan to strap into a chair and force him to watch fashion tutorials twenty-four seven.”

“It’s the least he deserves for forcing us to look at that,” Damian sneered.

“Hey!” Chat Noir said, “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this. But shouldn’t we be focusing?”

“Right!” Ladybug said, “Thanks Chaton, sorry. Now, Princess Fragrance!” She cried as she sped up her yoyo until it was a blur or pink and red light forming a solid circle.

The akuma saw them and Damian, and she cried, “My Prince! Get him!” Easily three hundred people filed out from behind cars and building and onto the street. They were all smiling like they were on Joker venom, as the sang in unison, “As you wish, Princess Fragrance!”

The zombies surged, but clearly unlike the zombies of a more undead nature, these had not lost any of their physical abilities. They rushed the boat in a swarm, spurred by their now instinctual desire to serve their Princess.

Viperion pulled the boat out onto the river, even as the first brainwashed victim reached the dock. That didn’t stop the swarm however, as most of the creatures leapt into the river and attempted to swim to the boat. Damian winced as a young man hit his head on the railing, but panicked as he fell backwards into the river. The training of his father, screamed at him to save him. To stop him from drowning, but Ladybug caught his wrist.

Damian looked up and saw the pain in her powerful blue eyes as she shook her head. Even as she stopped him, Damian saw the reality. Trying to save that person was pointless when the greater enemy was still baring down on them. Not to mention the fact that the cure would revive him once the battle was done. It was cold logic, assassin’s logic, that his family had been trying to coax out of him for six years. But this was a war, for the very fabric of reality.

Ladybug had never spared the public on the necessity of keeping the Miraculous away from Hawkmoth. In her very first press conference which Damian had watched three times, she had explained explicitly why no individual, no matter how good a motive, could ever be allowed to make a wish. Her speech during those first interviews had gotten the inter country on her side as no one wanted to see what a mad man willing to brainwash children wanted to alter reality for.

In the grand scheme of the fight, a single individual who would eventually be resurrected, was a price they had to pay. And as Damian withdrew his hand he could see, that it was a choice that Ladybug had had to make too many times in her tenure as a hero. He returned to his place, and waited for the akuma to eventually catch up with them. He didn’t have to wait long.

As they came up on a bridge, a figure of black and pink dropped onto the deck. She rose in the shadow, cackling as she raised a twisted black gun, and pointed it straight at Damian. “Time to feel the love, my Ice Prince!”

Damian was glad that they had chosen such a messy house boat, because he was easily able to flip behind a stack of boxes as Chat Noir nocked off the Princess’s aim. A puff of pink smoke dissipated into the river, and the akuma shrieked as she fought with the Cat. Damian peeked out when Ladybug called on her Luck Charm.

He could only stare in confusion and disbelief as a deflated balloon fell into her hands. “What are we going to do with that m’lady?” Chat Noir called out in a teasing voice, “Throw a party.”

“Keep her distracted Chat, I’ll—”

“Ryuko!” Viperion yelled as he came out of the cabin, “Zombies are incoming. Ladybug that goes on the perfume. Spikes, you’ll need this.”

Damian blinked as he caught the long thing that the Snake hero tossed him. He had no idea why Viperion was suddenly taking charge, there was virtually nothing about him on any of the websites. But the heroes jumped to obey him, as within ten seconds of him speaking they came out from under the bridge and twenty zombies landed on the deck.

“Get my Prince!” the akuma shrieked. And they charged. Damian looked down and saw that he had caught a shinai, a bamboo sword used in kudo. Who was the family that owned this boat, that they just had this lying around?

He didn’t have time to ponder as Ryuko drew her own sword and stood side by side with Damian creating a wall between the zombies and the other heroes. Damian only took the time to be momentarily impressed with Ryuko’s skill as they swung in tandem against the zombies. Knocking them down, and throwing them into the river. Unfortunately it didn’t matter how skilled or in-sync they were, because the zombies were so single minded, that they stood with broken bones and bleeding heads, trying to catch Damian and help their Princess, and all with those demented smiles on their faces.

Damian thought the smiles were the worst part, because they weren’t like Laughing Gas smiles. No, you could see the pain in the eyes of the Joker’s victims, even as their mouths were twisted. But these zombies didn’t show any pain. Even as Damian cracked one’s knee with a sickening snap, it looked at Damian as if he were the happiest creature alive, not even a flicker of pain. They lunged for him with the strength only the unhinged possessed, even as their leg twisted the wrong way underneath them.  

The only way to get rid of them was to throw them over board, which Viperion helped with even as he shouted out warnings. Damian didn’t dare look back to see how Ladybug and Chat Noir were doing, but the Cat’s unending chatter was beginning to grate on his nerves even as he tossed the last zombie overboard.

“No resting,” Ryuko called out, as she pointed to the second bridge coming close. Sure enough, another group of zombies were waiting to leap.

“Chat no!” Ladybug cried, and Damian spun to see Chat Noir get a face full of perfume as he pushed Ladybug out of the way. The perfume cloud dissipated, as the hero straightened and sang,

“At your servi—Mmph!” Viperion tackled Chat and wrestled him to the ground as Princess Fragrance swung her gun to Ladybug. Ladybug slid the balloon onto the end of the gun, right as she pulled the trigger. The balloon inflated into a impossible size, lifting the akuma into the sky.

“Ryuko!” Ladybug shouted. The dragon hero lunged with her sword and pierced the bottle shattering it. A black butterfly flew out as the akuma dropped back onto the deck. Ladybug caught it in her yoyo.

Damian sighed as the akuma was purified and the cure was released. He sat down on one of the many boxes as Viperion rolled off of Chat, and Ryuko went to comfort the small girl who was looking around dazed and confused. “Oh no!” she said, “I…I did it again! Oh Ladybug, I’m…I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…I just…I just…”

“I know Rose,” Ladybug said gently kneeling beside the girl who was now crying into her hands. “I know.”

“I just want everyone to get along! And be nice!” she cried, “Why can’t we all just be friends?!”

“It’s not always that easy,” Ladybug said gently, as she rubbed the small girl’s back. “I wish it were. But it isn’t.”

“But what do I do!” Rose moaned staring up at Ladybug with pleading eyes.

“Find the people who are true,” Ladybug said gently, “And cling to them. They’re the only opinions that matter. Ryuko’s going to take you back to school now. Are you ok with that?”

Rose nodded, and the Dragon hero swept her up into her arms, like she was carrying a child and, with an inhumane leap, began carrying her back. Damian expected the same treatment since all of the other victims had been swept away by the magic ladybugs, when Chat Noir sauntered up and said with a cocky grin and a swishing tail, “Another successful mission m’lady! Pound it!” He held out his first in celebration. Ladybug scowled. Damian suddenly wanted to jump off the boat.

Damian had survived the Batglare. He had survived his mother’s stare, his grandfather’s sneer. He had only barely escaped Alfred’s frown. But nothing could have prepared him for Ladybug’s scowl. The unearthly power behind her eyes was fanned into a wildfire, as her lips curled into a growl. And Damian felt his skin curl as it did when Superman’s eyes turned red. She stared down her partner as she shoved a finger into his face. “How many times have I told you not to sacrifice yourself for me?”

“But m’lady!” Chat whimpered, his ears falling down in dejection, “You told me to take this more seriously.”  

“Yes!” Ladybug cried, “As in follow my lead! Anticipate my movements! Not jump in front of every bast and get yourself brainwashed or killed!”

“Wait!” Chat Noir cried, “This was not my fault, Viperion said we wouldn’t need Second Chance if we used the brat’s ‘improvise’ plan, and that was clearly a lie!”

“I said that” Viperion said crossing his arms, “Because during one of the other times, when I told the truth, you refused to do anything he suggested, and it got you killed.”

There was a deep silence as Damian processed exactly what Viperion's role was. And suddenly, Ladybug's perfect record made sense. Every hero had an off day, where they just couldn't make it in time. But Ladybug couldn't have one. She couldn't fail, because of the importance of the war. So she didn't let it happen. She didn't let her self fail by controlling time itself. It was terrifying both in it's necessity and its effectiveness.

“How many times?” Ladybug asked quietly.

“Three,” Viperion said simply, “We tried your plan once, but we just ended up switching to this one in the end. Thought we’d save time and lives by just jumping to the chase.”

“And the other two times?” Ladybug asked her expression as guarded and as cloudy as the Batman’s.

“Zombies over ran the boat. Second time they killed Chat then you. Third time, Chat Noir tried to save you, got spritzed, killed you.” Damian hissed, as Chat Noir shrunk in on himself like a child trying to hide from his parents.

“What changed?” Ladybug asked.

“Spikes found the sword,” Viperion said simply, pointing at Damian. The heroes turned to him as if just realizing he was still there. Damian looked down at the shinai, and sighed. He stood and said, “My name isn’t Spikes, it’s Damian, Damian Wayne. And I was trained in many forms of combat from a young age…I am sorry this happened, I did not mean to cause that akuma. I have been told that, I should be more…guarded with my tongue. I’m just glad I could help fix the damage I did.”

Ladybug nodded at him consideringly, “Thank you, Damian. You were a great help today. I’ll take you back to the shore. But I don’t think I’ll be able to take you back to the school, my time’s almost up.” As if to prove her point her earrings beeped, as one of the dots disappeared.

Damian nodded his understanding, as Chat Noir stepped forward fiddling with his tail. “M’lady,” he said desperately, “Please I am trying! You know I am. And I’ve gotten better, right? Please, Chat Noir is the only thing I have anymore.”

Damian watched neutrally from the side, as Ladybug’s face contorted into pity as she looked at her partner. He was taller than her, and by all appearances stronger to. But from the way he dipped his head and slumped his shoulders you would have thought he was a child being chided by his parents. And like a doting mother Ladybug sighed and said gently,

“Chaton, I’m not taking your miraculous. You’re my partner, and I trust you more than anyone. But you need to trust me! You need to follow my lead. Pay attention to the others, and work with the team, instead of just throwing yourself in the way of danger. Can you do that?”

“Of course, I can!” Chat insisted.

“Ok,” Ladybug said with a nod. “We’ll talk about this more tonight. Now go home, you’re about to transform.”

As the Black Cat bounded away, Ladybug seemed to slump in defeat as she watched him leave. Viperion stepped forward laying a hand on her shoulder. “He is a good hero,” he said, “Always has been.”

“I know,” Ladybug said in a whisper Damian could only barely just hear. “But he’s not a good cat.”

“Perhaps a different miraculous would suit him better?”

“Not until I have a replacement. Have you talked to Fluff?”

Viperion shook his head, “Young and Old are being very cryptic on the matter. But I think Young is just doing it to be annoying.”

“Figures,” Ladybug muttered, but there was a small smile on her lips. She then clapped and turned back to Damian who was pretending that he hadn’t been listening, by putting the bamboo sword away. “Alright Spikes let’s get you back to shore. Viperion, can you take the boat back to the docks? Excellent. Spikes, once I’m gone you should contact your partner, but don’t expect them to answer immediately. It’s the crying hour after all.”

“The what?” Damian asked. But he never got his answer, as Ladybug caught him up by the waist, and used the nearby bridge to swing them back to shore.

@spicemallow @night-ngale @annastasha @ev-cupcake @hammalammadamdam @laydeekrayzee @itsemmylie @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks  @doglover82 @raven-ette @atiredartistandacat @theamazingfox @griffinthing @toodaloo-kangaroo @depressed-bitchy-demon @stainedglassm @the-dumber-scaramouche @fangirlingfanatic

[sixhours]

Chapter 4 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Jackson welcomed you with open arms.

They found you on the other side of Elk River, as you expected. It was easy to play the part of the weary traveler because that’s what you were for the six-weeks-on-foot trek from Kansas City to Jackson. When they sat you down in the interrogation room, you didn’t have to lie about the arduous journey. You turned in your weapons willingly and they didn’t ask to search your bag, which was fortunate–most of your cargo was repurposed radio equipment.

You got the impression the people of Jackson weren’t especially concerned about FEDRA’s influence. Being a thousand miles from the nearest QZ probably had that effect. What they didn’t know was that FEDRA had been setting up outposts for years; dotted along the highways, creating rough paths for delivery routes between the QZs, often cloaked as run-down gas stations or abandoned radio towers. The FEDRA network had grown slowly and stealthily thanks to people like you.

You were offered a home in exchange for work, given the pick of several empty houses that had been cleared for resettlement. You chose a light green, two-story cottage, drawn by the old-fashioned TV antenna springing prominently from the rooftop. That would come in handy.

You joined the town’s only other doctor, a 76-year-old man named Eric, at the tiny clinic just off Main Street and saw plain relief in the man’s eyes on your first day of work. It was clear they needed your experience. They didn’t have much compared to the hospitals in the QZ, but the clinic was efficient and clean. 

It was a straightforward assignment and you slipped into a familiar pattern: Ask around, ingratiate yourself to the community, find the people who made the decisions, and then…listen. You’ve learned that it rarely takes coercion to get people to talk here.

~*~

You sigh and drop your pen on the workbench, rolling your head on your shoulders. It’s two in the morning, and you have to be up at 5:30 to take over for the night shift, but you already know you won’t be able to sleep. You’re not used to it yet. Jackson is too quiet, too easy, too safe . Like a mirage in the desert, you keep waiting for it to evaporate into thin air, and yet, a month into this assignment…it’s still here.

You’d told your superiors about the girl on a hunch, and now they want more information. It’s not unusual for you to be asked to dig deeper into an individual, but you’ve never targeted someone so young. You suspect she’s the kid of some high-level Firefly but you don’t ask questions, you never do.

You spin slowly around in the creaking office chair, surveying the dormered attic where you’ve set up the radio and recorder. It’s filled with someone else’s memories, the usual forgotten fodder. Old trunks of graying yellow linens, a broken bicycle, a moldy dress dummy, and dozens of boxes packed with papers and books. Occasionally you paw through the latter looking for reading material–not that you’ve had much time to read.

Tonight your eyes settle on a box near the foot of the workbench, and you begin leafing through it, flicking aside dusty exam papers and report cards, drawings, construction paper turkeys and candy canes.

At the bottom of the box, you unearth a short stack of comic books. You take them out, brushing a thick layer of dust off the top, revealing the first cover: a monstrous creature with white wrinkled skin over a bright red mouth and four sharp teeth. The next book has a glowing UFO soaring across the starry sky and what looks like a fetus in a test tube, and the third shows a ghostly smeared handprint on a window.

You wrinkle your nose but tuck the comics under your arm, thinking they might be the kind of thing a 15-year-old would enjoy.

~*~

In the days after meeting Ellie and her father, you do some research. The pair first arrived in Jackson last winter, then promptly disappeared, the circumstances surrounding their departure mysterious enough to become a source of gossip. They reappeared the following spring, but no one can tell you where they’d been.

You learn that Joel works as a contractor and patrolman. He’s surprisingly well-connected in the Jackson hierarchy as Maria’s brother-in-law. He’s respected, but not exactly well-liked; he’s too reserved for that. You know he has an itchy trigger finger and a short temper, and the prominent opinion among many in Jackson is that his daughter is one of his few redeeming qualities.

And you know you don’t stand a chance of getting close to her without gaining Joel’s trust.

You’re turning this over in your mind during your shower one morning, staring at the water-stained floor in your tiny bathroom when you have a flash of inspiration.

~*~

Joel is visibly surprised to see you at his door that evening. His eyes widen, then narrow in suspicion.

“Just wanted to check in on my patient. How’s she feeling?”

He sucks in a breath, staring down at you with a sneer like you’ve crossed some deeply personal line.

“She’s fine,” he says.

“Joel?”

Ellie pokes her head out the door and sees you standing there with the comic books in your hands. Her eyes go wide. “Is that for me?”

“Hey,” you smile. “And yeah, I found these in my attic and thought–”

The girl shoves her way past Joel before you can finish, grabbing the books from your hands. She flips through the pages, frowning. “Aww man, I was hoping it was…something else. But these look cool.”

“I think this was some sci-fi show back in the 90’s,” you shrug. “I used to watch reruns. Seemed like the kind of thing you’d be into. If you like them, let me know. There may be more up there.”

“They look gross,” she beams at the cover with the white fanged monster, and you decide that’s a mark of praise.

“You done?” Joel snaps, still glaring at you.

“Actually, I have a question for you,” you say, turning back to him. “May I come in?”

Another pause, long enough for Ellie to dig an elbow into the man’s side. “C’mon, man. She’s a doctor . What’s she gonna do, bandage us to death?”

You smirk at this, raising your eyebrows in a silent question.

Joel makes a low sound in his throat. “Fine.”

The house is warm; spartan, but tidy. Not the bachelor-pad-slash-teenage wasteland you’d expected. You step into a small living room with an overstuffed leather couch, a small fireplace, and a coffee table. It smells like pine wood and fresh coffee.

Before you can look around, Joel is standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and scowling.

“So, I heard you’re a contractor,” you begin.

He blinks, expression blank, not offering anything further.

“And I…might have a job for you,” you continue. “My kitchen has some water damage on the back wall and ceiling. The bathroom floor feels soft, and I’m worried it’s not structurally sound.”

“Jobs go through the labor committee,” he says flatly. “Take it up with them.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I know…but it’s such a small thing. I don’t want to waste the committee’s time if it turns out to be nothing. And I don’t even need a builder, necessarily, just someone to take a look at the damage and confirm that my tub’s not going to fall into my kitchen next time I take a bath.”

Another long pause, Ellie looking back and forth between you as the pause unfurls into awkward silence.

“Ugh, he’ll do it,” she says to you.

“Ellie–” he growls a warning.

“God, and you say I have no social skills,” she mutters. “Just fuckin’ do it, Joel. Go help the lady with her kitchen or whatever.”

“Kid–”

“She saved my life, right?”

Joel rolls his eyes. “She didn’t–”

“And didn’t you try to, like, shoot her?”

He glares at you before turning back to her. “I didn’t–”

You watch this exchange with fascination, the easy way the young girl neatly dances around his protests.

She smacks him lightly on the arm. “When do you want him?”

The question is so abrupt, it takes you a hot second to realize she’s asking you to name a date. “Tomorrow? I have a shift until 7 but I can take a break to show you my place.”

Joel seethes at Ellie, but she grins, entirely unintimidated.

“Fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Tomorrow. Five.”

“Great. It’s on Coburn, the third house on the left.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything further.

“Guess I’ll show myself out, then,” you say, turning back to the door. As it shuts behind you, you overhear Joel’s low growl.

“What the hell’d you do that for?”

Ellie’s laugh is the only response.

[artemistorm]

Ooh! Prompt!

Wind befriends crab :)

"Look, I built the crab a little house," Wind called. "Now he won't get eaten by birds." He pointed to the shelter of stacked rocks he'd erected over the small red crab on the pebbly beach.

"That's great, kid. How do we get off this island?" Warriors asked.

"We don't," Wind said. "We're doomed to succumb to starvation on this deserted isle."

"Haha very funny. Seriously. How are we getting out of here?"

"Wars. Relax. Everything's fine. I know where we are." "

"Then where are we?"

"It's an unpopulated jungle island but there's a trade route that passes right by here. We just have to wait until a ship passes and flag it down. Shouldn't take more than a few days at most."

"So we basically get to have a beach vacation until someone rescues us?"

"Exactly!"

"Thank the Spirits!"

"Before we get too far into fun and games, we need to set up--" Time started but no one was listening. Wind ran off down to the surf, followed by shortly by Four. Wolfie was already near the water's edge, rolling in a dead fish. Warriors flopped onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. Wild and Hyrule took off for the jungle with Legend hurrying after them. Only Sky stood smiling pleasantly at Time.

"What were you saying?" He said.

"Ah, never mind," Time said. "Go have fun, Sky."

******

"We have 27 crab houses in crab city so far," Wind told Time. "And more crab houses being built all the time!" He motioned to Sky and Four whom he'd conscripted to build crab houses for every crab they had found at the beach.

There was a shout behind them and they looked back to find Warriors flailing on the ground. He jumped to his feet flinging several crabs into the seagrass around him.

"You alright?" Time asked.

"I just woke up to legs on my face. Tiny armored ghoma legs. It was terrifying," Warriors shivered.

"Those are crabs," Wind said. "There's a lot of them around."

"AAAAAHAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Hyrule screamed running out of the jungle. "WATCH OUT! THEY'RE COMING!"

"What's coming?!" Sky asked, alarmed.

"Its... an invasion!" Hyrule huffed resting hands on his knees.

"What?! There's no monsters on this island!" Wind exclaimed jumping up.

"COMING IN HOT!" Legend yelled bursting out of the trees. "Out of the way! Clear a path!"

"Holy Hylia!" Warriors jumped out of Legend's way. "What's going on?!"

"That!" Legend pointed.

Wild sprinted out of the woods shrieking in terror and covered head to toe in bright red crabs.

"Come on! This way! Into the water!" Legend called to Wild. Wild plowed into the waves and droped to his hands and knees letting the next waves of water lift and wash off all of the crabs off his body.

"There you go. Wash them all off. You're alright. They're mostly harmless," Legend said.

"Easy for you to say!" Wild retorted with a crab hanging off of his nose by it's claw.

"I don't understand. What's going on?" Wind asked.

"Crabs!" Wild, Hyrule and Legend said all at the same time.

"I don't understand it either, but the jungle is completely full and crawling with crabs--every square inch in covered with them--and they're all crawling right toward us," Hyrule explained.

"What do we do? Are they dangerous?" Sky asked anxiously.

"No they're not dangerous--" Wind said.

"Lies!" Wild said trying to coax the crab on his nose to let go.

"If we don't all want to end up like Wild completely covered in crabs, we need to find a way off the island," Legend said.

"Woof woof arf woof arf awooo!" Wolfie said.

"Wolfie, we can't understand you--" Time started.

"Look!" Four exclaimed and pointed at the trees. It took a moment, but then they saw it. The trees, the shrubs, the logs, the vines, the rocks all started moving and shifting from their ordinary greens and browns and greys to pinkish reddish hues. There were thousands of them. Even millions.

The crabs were coming.

There was a crackle and Twilight shifted back into Hylian.

"We should build a raft out of the driftwood," he suggested.

"We can float in the middle of the bay," Wind agreed.

"Right," Time said. "Let's do that then."

*******

"This is probably the weirdest thing I think we have ever done," Warriors said dangling his bare feet off the raft and into the water.

"I still say we should have made a bonfire and eaten the crabs," Hyrule said crossing his arms. "We can't cook at all on this raft."

"We can't eat a bazillion crabs," Wind said.

"Yes we can," Hyrule answered. "I don't know about you but I'm starving."

"Can we please not talk about food or eating?" Legend said laying down with one hand covering his eyes.

"You good, vet?" Twilight asked.

"Do I look like I'm okay?"

"How long do you think this... event... will last?" Four asked eyeing the island which was now completely covered with crabs migrating into the ocean.

"I have absolutely no idea," Wind answered. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Hey. What's cracking?" A new voice called. Nine heads turned around to look at a pair of sailors in a rowboat. At the mouth of the bay, Tetra's ship was anchored.

"Tetra!" Wind cried, elated.

"Thank the three we're saved!" Legend sighed.

[blazichu]

Sooooo the silly crossover I wrote for my birthday is technically done, but I don't really like posting on Fridays, which means it's gonna wait just a little bit longer. I wanted to do something day-of, though, so here's a teaser!

(This is a Submas AU set in the universe of the 2003 TMNT cartoon; it's mostly just an excuse to play my faves off of one another, but there is some semblance of a plot.)

---

“As it so happens, I can arrange for a distraction if one becomes necessary. That will allow you to vacate the premises undetected, should worst come to worst.”

Donnie stifled his snickering into his scarf. “It’s Grand Central Station-- I don’t think you’d need to go out of your way.”

“True,” Ingo conceded, nodding, “But I’ll have you know that my distraction is quite good at what he does.”

“Speaking from experience?” It earned him a loud bark of laughter and a clap like stone striking stone; both got a number of puzzled looks and Ingo ducked his head, trying to lay low for the duration.

Since there wasn’t anything more to discuss and their commute was almost over, it was a mutual silence, but not an uncomfortable one-- perhaps it was softened by the ambient chatter and the noise of the train, or maybe it was the olive branch held between them, the hopes that extending their trust to one another would be a joint success.

They stepped out onto the platform, and as soon as they made it into the station’s main body, Don scouted out the best place to disappear into the shadows. Ingo could lead him where he needed to go, but even an employee would have to answer why he was leading a patron into the building’s inner workings, so it would be better if there was no patron to be seen. The conductor trailed after, though he stopped to assist a couple showing all the hallmarks of confused tourists, and then continued his path. Donnie was keenly aware of the fact that, even though his new acquaintance hadn’t been looking at him as he ducked into cover, the man’s eyes landed on him unerringly, seeming to cut straight through the darkness.

Ingo tilted his head down into a subtle nod and made an abrupt about-face; it startled several people into looking his way, but just as many ignored it entirely as he marched across the station, toward internal operations. At this hour, most of his coworkers must have been dispatched across the city, but he crossed paths with several as he navigated the halls, proving the precaution worthwhile. Don didn’t have any reason to think he’d be on his own after the fact, but kept track of each turn and potential exit routes, just in case, until, finally, his guide stopped in front of a door. Ingo’s eyes roved from one side of the hallway to the other, and then he cocked his head, listening; for just a second he tensed, but after focusing on it, he breathed a sigh of a laugh and relaxed.

He looked directly at Don and signaled him down, turning his back on whatever sound he’d heard.

“This is the security room.” He said, somewhat unnecessarily. Even though he whispered it, his voice filled the space with a surprising efficiency. “I wish I could offer you some sort of advice where our system is concerned, but I’m afraid I would do more harm than good.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Don said, pawing through his duffel bag until he found the right screwdriver. He immediately turned to start picking the lock as he added, “I can guarantee I’ve seen worse.”

[harrison-abbott]

Didn't Take Sugar Anymore

His alarm woke him up; needed to head to work. He hadn’t showered last night, and had intended on doing so this morning instead … but, his body felt stuck to the warmth of the covers, and spending an extra 40 minutes here seemed a better option than the shower, so he stayed. Until he had to get up. Ever since he was a kid he hadn’t been able to eat in the morning. Just didn’t have an appetite. Before school. He just couldn’t eat anything. Or before the soccer games on Saturdays, he was too nervous to eat. So he drank some coffee instead. Didn’t take sugar anymore. He turned on the radio for some background noise. But then it whacked the half hour mark, and the news came on – in stark rash information, relayed in Queen’s English, which was all so disgusting that he switched it off. He boiled the kettle for another coffee. Caffeine often made him jittery at work. But, he figured that, like the eating thing, he’d always been a twitchy person in general – couldn’t control the tics – and so he made a new one and drank it, and then got his bag and coat and headed out into the street. Which was rather warm, despite it having been snowing the other day. He passed the sad little coffee shops and the colourful ethnic shops, Africa and Poland, with the sleepy workers setting up for the day. He passed the defunct store that’d been boarded up for about ten years, after the old video rental place had folded. It had weeds growing out of the wooden board bits. A quarter mile he walked down the road, passing the seagulls that violently attacked the bins outside of the bakery shop. Then at the bottom of the road he passed that bar, the kind of bar that he would never ever go in to … as he’d end up getting jumped. Not that he drank out these days. And, what were ‘these days’ he thought, as he entered the new street on route to the Metro station? What was he doing with his life? Sometimes he felt young; other times very old. He had siblings who had kids and wives. And he didn’t have either of those things. At this point, in his 30s, he thought he might be somebody by now. But, what would that mean? He got to the Metro stairwell and walked down the steps, and the sounds and temperature changed and he bought his ticket and went down onto the platform, where he recognised a few faces who usually waited for the same train at the same time – and one of them was this foreign-looking chap who had a kind face, for some reason. The man was a bit older than himself – maybe in his 40s or so – and for no overt reason, he seemed a kind man. The metro train whooshed through the tunnel hole and he got on when the doors slid open, and he usually stood in the corner, so that other people could sit down. Maybe that meant that he was still young? He still had strong enough legs. Older folks needed the seats more than he did. As he stood there whilst the train flumed under the city tunnels, with their sharp flashes of shadow and electric light, his tics acted up a little bit. Physically and verbally. This happened a lot when he was in public. But he’d learned not to be so embarrassed when they happened. And most people didn’t notice anyway. Or else they didn’t say anything about them. There was no cure for his tics. They’d certainly be there up until he died. Whenever that would be. He couldn’t guess at this point … when he would die.

[ellorypurebloodculture]

EVIL AUTHOR DAY!

It is, once again, 15 February and that means it's Evil Author Day!

(For those who don't know, this is the day every year that authors share snippets of WIP with no guarantee that they will ever be completed.)

Read at your own risk. DO NOT ask for more.

#1 Untitled Severus Snape/Sirius Black (This isn't set in PC 'verse.)

"I," Sirius gritted out, his gray eyes as hard as diamonds, "am nothing like my family."

Severus sneered, "Keep telling yourself that, Black, and you'll be an even better liar than the Dark Lord."

For the second time, Sirius reeled back and flinched.

"You want a chance to prove me wrong? Fine, Snape," Sirius spat, something thick and haunted in his voice, "why were you studying the Dark Arts, then? What possible reason could you have--?"

"--for learning the counter curses listed in the book, right beneath the curses almost every pureblood in Slytherin grew up learning?" Severus interrupted with a sneer. "I wonder, Black, what possible reason a poor, pathetic half-blood with a Muggle for a father might have to be studying such a book."

Sirius paled whiter than a Malfoy.

"Sod off, Black," Severus spat his name, "back to your little posse of people with perfect little lives and play happy families with them. Some of us don't have that luxury."

#2 Untitled Batman fandom

No matter how Dick Grayson shifts, the Nightwing costume chafes. It's been over 100 degrees all week. Even though it's midnight now, the concrete and steel and glass of Gotham City still radiate the heat absorbed throughout the daylight hours.

He's scrolling on his phone, leaning against a gargoyle in The Bowery. Because, and this is worrying on some level -- someone with power must be planning something huge if the small fries aren't even out and about -- he's bored.

Dick's been on patrol for over two hours now and he hasn't run into a single crime. It's almost ... relaxing.

Which is never how someone should feel while covering Red Hood's patrol route while Jason Todd is injured.

Dick's thumb freezes in his scrolling. He blinks. Blinks again. Lifts the white-outs of his domino mask to be sure. Blinks yet again.

"What the hell?"

His thumb is hovering over an article that's going viral online. The headline is: Police Arrest Superman.

#3 Untitled Batfam

"No comment," Dick replied, not even glancing up from his phone.

Ah, the conversation hadn't gone particularly well, it seemed. Either that, or Jason had asked Dick not to share whatever his response was. It was difficult to keep from pressing, but Bruce managed it. It might have taken years, but he had finally reached a good balance between knowing everything about his children and allowing them privacy at the same time.

"Is it over yet?" Tim asked, staring out the window.

"Not unless you have a time travel device in those trousers, Timmy," Dick teased.

Bruce frowned when Dick and Tim turned to face each other, a mischievous look in their eyes. "No, we're not using a time travel device to skip past the auction," Bruce admonished.

Tim huffed.

"Killjoy," Dick muttered.

#4 Untitled Jason Todd/Tim Drake

That was ... flattering.

Tim had received more than his fair share of odd compliments in his life, usually from business partners wanting a better deal from the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, or from a socialite trying to crawl their way into his bed, and so on. But this one, coming from someone like The Red Hood, had more impact than all the frivolous ones did combined.

"And I think it's admirable you stick to your rules," Tim stated, because it was admirable.

Most vigilantes, crime lords, whatever Hood technically counted as--the answer was both--changed their moods on the flip of a coin, redrew their lines in the sand as easily as breathing. But Tim had never once heard of The Red Hood doing that. His lines were drawn in cement, not sand, and everyone could count on him to abide by them at the end of the day. It was comforting, that steadiness, because there wasn't much in Tim's life that was consistent.

#5 Untitled Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd

It felt like Jason had been punched in the gut by someone wearing brass knuckles. The breath whooshed out of him. He ... he hadn't expected that.

"Why ... why didn't you...?" Jason couldn't even get the words out as he struggled to process what Bruce was saying.

Jason would never get to be a vigilante, never get to be a side kick, never get to be a hero. All the time he had spent thinking of names for his alter ego, all the time he spent surreptitiously designing costumes in a sketch pad with his abysmal art skills were for nothing. Because Bruce never intended to let Jason join him out on patrol.

"It's important that you learn how to protect yourself," B said, squeezing Jason's shoulder comfortingly.

So this ... all this time B was giving him fancy self-defense lessons with no intention of letting Jason fly through the Gotham skyline? It was ... what?

"Then why?" Jason demanded, tears in his eyes. Why did B silently dangle that possibility in front of him all this time if it wasn't even on the table as an option in the first place?

"You're my son, Jason," Bruce said, crouching down to look Jason in the eyes. "And that means you'll be a target for abductors. I want you to be as safe as possible."

#6 Untitled Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (This is not set in PC 'verse.)

Harry Potter shifted into his Animagus form with a smirk on his face. It became wily and menacing as he sprouted a muzzle with ebony fur and needle-like teeth. With a nudge of his snout against the emerald and platinum collar on the floor, it magically appeared around his neck.

His boyfriend, while a right prat and a total snob, was the best.

Of all the places his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger in particular, would look for him when he was missing -- was it really too much to ask for a few hours to himself without being interrogated about his whereabouts?! -- they were never going to check to see if he was hanging out with the Slytherins.

To be fair, they didn't have all the information.

He hadn't told them that Sirius had taught him the Animagus Transformation. And, obviously, he hadn't told them he was dating Draco Malfoy either.

It didn't have a single thing to do with him being ashamed of dating a Slytherin. Harry wasn't ashamed. Harry was a Slytherin. He was just hiding out in the lion's tower, like a snake in lion hide.

What he wasn't okay with was the furor that would result if his relationship got out. Harry was sick and tired of being on the cover of every publication in the wizarding world.

Him being in a committed relationship with a pureblood heir, a Malfoy, the son of Voldemort's Right Hand? Yeah, no. He'd pass on that thanks.

Just imagining the headlines made him nauseous.

[paeliae-occasionally]

OC Questions

Thank you @theink-stainedfolk for these questions, this was from the WIP Q&A tag.

-How does Paeliae's story differ from the other two, (Marsh and Xaeren) and what unique themes does it explore?

Paeliae centres around the theme of immortality and legacy because it is set in a time where the biggest question of the age is can mages become immortal, and is it moral to do so?

Paeliae is a firm believer that immortality is is unhelpful as it reduces the need for change and ultimate motivation that comes from running out of time. He instead seeks eternity in his legacy, seeing his father immortalised in stories inspired him to achieve highly to be remembered rather than letting the world overpopulate and stagnate due to extended lifetimes.

The story deals with how this ambitious question starts the dissolution war and how Paeliae and a collection of gods and mortals try to keep the world from collapse.

I would say that Paeliae’s story has much less personal stakes. In Marsh and Xaeren’s stories, the stake is their life and their personal goals, but in Paeliae, the stake is the soul of an empire, and then in the war, the lives of every mage who ever lived there.

What's Marsh's favorite food, and have they ever had a weird culinary experiment go wrong?

Marsh likes curry and is bored to death by stew which was common in the military unit he was a part of. He has never really cooked for himself, but once in prison he went to the kitchens and tried to cook rice for himself. It ended up being underdone and he gave up.

- Can Xaeren communicate with animals, and if so, what's the most interesting conversation they've had?

Yeah, hypothetically. He could use a combination of Kasi , Lysr snd Valar to speak in the voice of a living creature. While in hiresias he might have tried to talk to the crows there to convince them to carry letters for him in return for small shiny metal ingots. That would definitely be a memorable conversation because hiresisan birds are smart.

- Does Paeliae have a secret talent or hobby that might surprise the other characters?

Paeliae is really good at drawing maps. He used to map the places he travelled to while he was on a military campaign with his father and label them with numbers corresponding to the location where his mother’s stories were said to have happened. In the end he had a map covered in numbers and a dotted path of his route.

One copy of this map survived all the way to modern times and is a really important classical document as it was one of the only surviving maps of the laith’edrels’ mage cities because so many were destroyed in the dissolution.

Thanks for the questions!

[plaindangan]

Miu is currently in a glum mood as she stalked a date between Kaede and Shuichi. The inventor flicking her vibro-panties remote between “total turn off, bored and horny, and make me moan.” The low end settings of the panties that at most made the detective red face.

Then Miu suddenly felt her own panties vibrate. Not on any of the low end settings but max. MAXIMUM ORGASM! She would worry about blowing her cover if she didn’t feel like cumming forever and ever!

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

The night was young. Both Kaede and Shuichi were enjoying a nice evening meal in the city. Stars was shining, other couples were animatedly talking, and the two was was having a great time recapping their week towards each other. Everything was going good....

Except for that weird, high pitched, squealing that could be heard from that alleyway? It was occasionally getting both Shuichi and Kaede to turn their heads over to it. Should they check it out? A part of Shuichi's detective spirit wanted to have his curiosity sated...

But part of Shuichi felt if he went down that route their date would be thrown in the trash.

-

And he was right!!

Because lying in the alleyway, stripped down to just her vibrating panties and moaning like quite the slut was Miu. Hands grasping at her big boobs to massage them and mind fully engrossed in her own accidental self-pleasure. If someone were to walk by her, she'd probably drag you down to her level into helping her cum for the umpteenth time in her own self-made panties. Fantasizing about being caught by both Shuichi and Kaede, being forced to suck Shuichi's cock as Kaede suckled on her moist boobs. A fantasy that remained, so far, just a fantasy.

Thankfully, it seems as if her own aura of degenerate lust has turned away most people from going down that route...for now at least.

But, who knows, maybe that detective curiosity might prove to be too much for Shuichi later on down the night.

[pretensesoup]

Queer fiction, day 2/30

Since I mentioned it yesterday, let's talk about Widdershins, which is book one of the Whyborne and Griffin books. There are eleven in total, but they're in a series such that you kind of have to read in order, so I'm going to talk about them as a group.

I only have these as ebooks right now, so I'm gonna hotlink to goodreads for the cover. Hopefully that works.

Okay, so the plot. Let's start by saying these do have a plot. Set in a very gothic town called Widdershins, in Massachusetts (just down the road from Arkham, it seems). As places go, it's very Night Vale--people keep to themselves and don't make eye contact if they're out after dark; the city's museum was designed by a man who slowly went mad during the work; everyone worships at a church called First Esoteric, which has some rather non-standard ritual practices.

The books are set around 1900. At the outset, we meet Dr. Percival Endicott Whyborne (he goes by Whyborne, which makes sense). He's highly educated, a philologist (someone who studies the history of languages). He speaks something like thirteen languages himself, and is also interested in cryptography, so it makes sense that when a private eye named Griffin Flaherty is referred to the museum with an occult, encyphered book, Whyborne is the person who's asked to help him. Together, they investigate a secret brotherhood and also fall in love.

I love a bunch of things about these books: the side characters are excellent; the sense of place (for a place that doesn't exist!) is extremely strong, and it's a funny, creepy place; the way the main characters get a chance to grow, both personally and in their relationship across all the books (unusual to find a series with so many entries in this genre); the explicit ways that Hawk deals with and subverts the ideas of "other" in Lovecraftian fiction.

Key quote: "Although the public areas of the museum were designed to give the appearance of a neat and orderly progression through history, the rest of the building exemplified chaos. Storerooms burrowed deep into the earth, while various wings sprawled off in every direction. The library was a literal labyrinth, and shortly after I'd first been hired, I'd found myself obliged to cross the flat roof of one of the wings as the most direct route from one department to another. Even though the museum was less than forty years old, there were rumors of lost storerooms and offices, and I did not doubt the possibility."

These books have a lot of sex in them, so be forewarned. When I read the first book, I found the use of euphemism in these a little grating to the inner ear ("my length" and suchlike), but over the course of the books I came to appreciate the voice. Then I read all the books and turned into a tiny eldrich creature myself.

10/10 for them.