#so like i was running low on healing items

[goldensunset]

pokey mans time. i’m going to be so brave and suffer through the part of the game that gave me grief in its predecessor

[randoimago]

Hello! I was hoping to ask a request of the Ren/Akira, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Akechi (if possible) reacting to the reader pushing them out of the way to take a blow that would knocked them out. (Like how in-game, party members can take a fatal blow for Joker)

Thank you!

Fandom: Persona 5

Character(s): Akechi, Joker, Yusuke, Ryuji

Note(s): Here you go!

Akechi

He resigned himself to getting hit often by the shadows. He tries to draw as much aggression as possible. Mostly because he has a lot of pent-up aggression and hitting things and being hit helps him (even if he gets more pissed).

So he's prepared and ready to be hit by this shadow's attack. His health is low, but he knows Joker has some healing abilities and items. Akechi isn't prepared to see you jump in front of him and take the hit.

His jaw clenches and he feels more anger than he has in a long while. But that anger is directed to the shadow that left you worse than he currently is. Oh, he'll give you an earful afterward. But right now, that shadow is going to be obliterated.

Joker

Joker does his best to not let himself get harmed enough that one of his friends jumps in front to take the blow for him. It's happened quite a bit and he's glad that he keeps a persona that can revive.

That said, watching you suddenly be the one to jump in and take the hit for him makes him freeze for a moment. He's glad you aren't knocked out from the hit, but he was afraid for a moment.

When the battle ends, he's flicking your forehead. He'll scold you later when you're in private, but for now, he'll keep his calm as a leader and make sure you get healing and have someone else take your place in the battle for a little while.

Ryuji

He doesn't try to be reckless in battle, but he isn't the most observant. When he gets pushed, he expects that a shadow is attacking him and is ready to swing his bat. But then he watches as you get hit by a shadow that was aiming for him.

Ryuji is mad. Not Akechi levels of mad, but he's mad. He knows that he should try to keep his cool, but you took an attack for him while he was screwing around while his health was low.

Ryuji does his best to keep enemies off of you while you get healed. Ryuji will be annoyed when you're healed just because of what you did. He's strong, he can handle being knocked out for a little while. Just don't worry him like that again, got it?

Yusuke

Yusuke knows his health is running low, but he also knows that he's pretty quick and agile. As tired as he's getting, as long as he can dodge the next attacks until he's healed then he'll be fine. Except he can't dodge fast enough.

And then you take the hit for him. Yusuke's eyes widen as he watches you being attacked. It's something that happens quite a bit when you all go into mementos and palaces to fight, he's watched you get harmed more than he cares for. But now you're being hurt on his behalf.

He's using what stamina he has to freeze the enemies with his ice attacks and buy more time for healing to happen for you and him. After the battle, Yusuke thanks you and then begins to scold you for what you did. You owe him new paints.

Taglist:

@abellaheart-blog

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

Part 2

We Were Written In The Stars, Boyfriend Of Mine.

Summary: Your Damian’s Twin Sister, after arriving 3 years after your brother, you never excepted to take the Robin mantle, until your brother runs away and you volunteer to take his place. Damian eventually returns and you are discharged from the role, after bottling up your anger you decide to go solo by running away and stealing the Batgirl. But you’re not alone, your sort of boyfriend joins you. The main problem is the boyfriend in question is your brother’s best friend, Jon Kent.

Pairing: Jon Kent x Batsis!Reader on this one. Mentions of platonic batfam and reader.

Notes: Sorry this took so long and it’s shorts I have an exam in 2 days 😢 - ONLY HALF PROOF-READ IM SORRY. Just pure Jon and Reader today

Warnings: Mentions of past child abuse, vomiting, derogatory language, cuts and bruises. Reader has some childhood ptsd.

Words: 1.6k

This morning was significantly quiet, sitting on the windowsill of what was your new home you hadn’t heard a scream in the last 12 hours, no petty purse snatching in sight. There were some clouds in the sky, it was never this nice in Gotham, too much pollution. But the harsh breeze against your skin reminded you of what life was like in the mountains training with your grandfather, it really made you think of how ironic it was that you always got Damian’s sloppy seconds. First being heir of the league of assassins, then being Robin, but now you have something that’s yours; the sleeping boy in the bed. Next to you. Even though he was technically Damian’s first, he doesn’t get to see him this way.

You dabbed your wounds again and let out a disgruntled noise upon hitting a bruise, you grabbed some honey and dabbed it on the dried up cut. You had gotten into a confrontation last night and you weren’t expecting for the low level thug to have some backup. Long story short, he had a ridiculously big group of goons and Jon had to come and help. Let’s hope they all had health insurance for the beating you both gave them. But you couldn’t lie, without your father or siblings there you felt like a rogue, even when you were fighting crime with Jason you never felt this out of place. You felt like you would relapse at any moment and forget your new ways. You never took pleasure in killing, it’s just how your grandfather taught you. Nobody taught you about redemption, you were just explained the world in black and white.

Luckily, you had Jon if you ever nearly slip up. You hadn’t looked at your phone in 3 good days and you had been happy that way, you missed them, even your father to an extent but you also knew proving yourself was important. The highlight of all of this was Jon, sure breaking a few scum noses was nice too. But nothing beats the adrenaline of going on patrol together and the press wondering when you two became an item, you leave as quickly as possible though; you can’t risk your family coming to get you or Jon’s for that matter. It was a bit easier for Jon, his parents trusts him and loves him. Your family loves you too, but if Bruce trusted you then why fire you?

“Ouch.” You murmur after hitting a particularly sensitive bruise, deciding that’s enough and wanting to spend some more time with Jon before your patrol, you slip back next to him; ruffling his hair and trying to shuffle as close as humanely possible, the more you shuffled the more healed you felt by the moment, not just physically but mentally as well. There was so many things to tell him, about your overbearing mother? Or maybe almost being disowned by your grandfather? But you didn’t wanna tell him things he wouldn’t know what to do with. So you embrace him and he gets the message and pulls your waist around him, which made you hope the morning would never end.

————————

“I received a call from Clark this morning.” Bruce said sternly to almost all his children, they all sat on the couch, “Clark? has he found her?” Stephanie spoke up first, her eyes widened with hope as Barbara placed a hand on her shoulder. “Steph..” she said whilst rubbing her back to comfort her. “Well, what did he say?” Barbara asked, Bruce let out a sigh and faced his kids.

“You all remember Jon right?” They all nodded in unison and mutual confusion, “Well, recently Jon has gone off too, they think around the same time as your sister.”

“What are you saying?”

————————

“You okay?” Jon asked as you searched the knocked out drug dealer in front of you. “Absolutely nothing, no leads.” You replied, you’ve been trying to find the boss of a local drug cartel but you’ve had no luck. “Babe, I was asking about you.” He looked down at his shoes before moving over to you. His glowing features making you forget about the filthy, rat infested alley. “Ups and downs, some days I really miss my family.” You look down and don’t realise the thug under you has woken up and has now broken out of his restraints. “I’ll get you for this you slu-“ he lunges at you seething with anger; but you swiftly move out of the way and restrain his hands before Jon hastily pins him to the ground again, using his weight against him. “You brats..” you role your eyes and gesture Jon to walk away with you, and you nearly did until for the first time you lost sense of self.

“You fucking cunt! Look at me!” The thugs screams and you pull Jon along, nothing he can say to you can do anything, you’ve heard it all, well until he reopened some old wounds; emotional wounds. “You are nothing bitch!” You stop dead in your tracks, Jon looking at you with extreme concern and wondering what changed. Immediate memories flood in, Damian leaving, your grandfather working you to the bone after his disowned, former heir left. Harsh days that ended in you holding your stomach and trying to keep your breakfast from coming up, which didn’t always work and wasn’t always pleasant. Vomiting blood was the worst of it after you were hit a bit too hard and were left clenching onto your stomach for dear life.

“On your feet.” A grating voice that resembled your grandfather spoke, were you having a panic attack? All you knew is you were reliving you worst memories. Please I don’t want to remember! I won’t. “Do you want to be meaningless? Pick up your sword and face me, I won’t allow you to fail.” You wondered if your mother even cared, she would carefully ogle your hands at night, commenting on how your once porcelain, delicate, hands were now ruined. But she did nothing about it, you wanted to be the heir; but not like this. You risked being disowned too if you even asked about your father or brothers, so you didn’t. You just didn’t,

“Babe? Are you okay?” A familiar voice said, you were now acutely aware you were out of the alley and lifted into your boyfriend’s arms. “You were in a daze..I couldn’t wake you up I’m sorry.” He looked down whilst placing you guys atop a nearby building, “it’s okay, I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before.” Jon offered you and sympathetic look before taking one of your hands in his, “I wanted to show you something to make you feel better.” You tilted your head, wondering what he had planned.

“Come.” He said and slowly lifted his feet of the group flying upwards, you were also gently lifted off the ground; surprisingly, no strain, only his gorgeous features. “Only a little longer now.” He said as he went further up in the sky only a bit stray of the clouds, he quickly shifted you upwards into the bridal carry. “Sorry if this isn’t a comfortable position, I wanted you to be facing me; since you’re my equal and everything..” he spoke in a shy tone, without hiding the faint blush on his face. Your heart was melting, he might as well take it for himself. But you wouldn’t say that to him, could ruin the mood. “I’m plenty fine here.”

“Good we are here.” He took his fingers and lifted your chin upwards; you were met with a vast sea of glowing stars, because of the pollution in Gotham; you never saw this many. You had never felt so loved in your life, so validated, so cared for. You started shedding tears and hugging into his chest, “Shit-oh sorry I didn’t realise this would-I’m so sorry-“ Jon said scrambling to rub your back and pepper your forehead with kisses to repay you. “No, Jon, happy tears I promise.” You say softly and his calms and he places his chin on the top of your head, “This is why you’re the only person I’ve ever let into my heart in this sort of way..” You utter and Jon has to hold back some tears of his own, “Thank you.” You move in closer and grab his face to kiss him, and it seems like it lasts forever before you both pulled away gasping for breath.

“I think I-“ you scramble to get your words together, feeling everything so intensely, until your finally get it together. “I love you so much Jonathan Kent.”

“I love you.” You finish, staring directly into his eyes, “I love you too.” He said, matching your gaze. “I love you so much more.”

Tag list: @waterwyne @venusmorning @planetlotus @sugarrush-blush @skepvids @dreaming-of-the-reality @otterluver05 @godoreo22 @earth-to-name @krys0210 @jisnothere

It wouldn’t let me tag a few people so please check your settings if you asked to be a tagged and weren’t! (Sorry for the inconvenience)

Thank you for all the lovely support <3 it’s definitely helped me finish this part off and it’s very appreciated. 💕

Next Part: Robin Vs Batgirl (yes it’s getting dramatic in this one.) NEXT PART IS OUT.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 54

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,355ish

Summary: You and Logan struggle interacting with each other.

Notes: Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Your healing factor decided to kick into high gear while you were sleeping, which you were grateful for. Your hands were scarred now, but that didn’t matter as long as the burns were gone. Though you knew that it would probably happen again. You worked again today, but not until later, so you decided to go out and run a few errands. As you were locking up the apartment, you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Looking over, you saw Logan with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. Having felt someone staring, he looked up and stopped. The two of you just stared at each other for a moment before you decided to speak up.

“Hi,” your voice was quiet, nervous. 

“Hey,” he responded, voice low. “You, uh, you heading to work?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head. “I’m off to run some errands.” Logan nodded. “Where are you coming back from?”

“A walk… needed to clear my head and smoke a cigar in peace.”

Your lips turned up at his words. “I get it.” You walked his way, stopping as you reached his side. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah… see you.”

You continued heading down the hallway. You were almost to the stairs when you heard Logan again.

“Hey, Y/N, wait.” You turned around to see him coming towards you. He stopped a few feet away from you. “Mind if I tag along?”

His words took you by surprise and, in all honesty, a part of you wanted to say no. You didn’t know if you could handle running errands with the man who shared your husbands face. But then you looked at him. You could see the nervousness and the war behind his eyes. Logan was struggling too.

“I don’t mind,” you said quietly. “I could… use the company.”

You wanted as Logan’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. After a moment, he moved to where you were and allowed you to led him down the stairs and out to the street. The two of you walked in silence, enough space away from one another to prevent from bumping into each other. 

You headed into the first store and grabbed a cart. Logan walked off to the side, grabbing the items you asked him to. It quickly became a comfortable routine from this store to the next. Logan carried your bought items around with ease. After the two stores, you decided that you were done for now and the two of you headed back to the apartment complex. 

“You can place everything on the table,” you told Logan as you opened the door to your apartment. “I’ll put everything away.”

“I can help,” Logan said, heading to the table.

“You’ve already helped. I’m sure that you—“

“Please.”

Your head tilted in curiosity at the tone Logan used. He was practically begging for you to let him help. He turned around and looked at you, eyes shining with something you were very familiar with seeing. Guilt. Something in Logan’s mind was eating away at him and he was trying to do something to take his mind off of it.

“Okay,” you whispered.

The two of you began working together to put items away.

“Where’s Laura?” Logan wondered, having not seen her yet today.

“She’s at a high school down the street. I signed her up for summer classes so that she could finish high school.”

Logan nodded. “That will be good for her. She interested in college?”

“She was, before we were sent to The Void. It hasn’t been a conversation that we’ve had since. I won’t force her into anything. I just want her to be happy. She’ll most likely have her father’s ability to live long, so a long and happy—a fulfilled life is all I want for her. Whatever that may look like.”

“You are a good mother.”

The compliment had you lose your breath for a moment. Once you gathered yourself, you turned away from Logan and focused back on the task. The two of you put the rest of the items away in silence. When everything was put away, Logan stuffed his hands back in his pockets and you finally fully faced him.

“Thanks for all your help,” you said, your lips pulling to a small smile.

“Anytime,” he responded with a nod. He turned to leave.

“Would you… I can make lunch.”

Logan stopped and looked back. “You don’t have to.”

“I think you deserve it after I made you carry everything around for me. Come. Sit.”

He fully turned around. “I can help. Put me to work.”

You shook your head. “No. But maybe I’ll let you do dishes when we’re done.”

“Deal.”

Logan sat down at the table as you got to work in the kitchen. His eyes carefully watched your every moment, lingering on your hands ever so often to check on them and to catch the sight of the wedding ring still on your finger.

“How are your hands?” Logan eventually broke the silence.

You paused, glancing at them. “They’re fine.”

“From, uh… From what I’ve picked up, I thought that you were only in pain when you’ve used your powers. Are you still in pain from The Void? Or was it something else?”

“Something else… I… I don’t really want to talk about it.” Logan let out an understanding grunt as he nodded. “How have you been handling all this? I think that everyone knows it’s not easy for me, but… this has to be really hard for you.”

“Yeah, it’s strange… I’m trying to make the most of it. I… well, you heard, I turned my whole world on the X-Men. I… I failed my friends… my family. And I killed many people… This is a fresh start. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Well, I think you’re off to a good start, if that means anything.”

“It does… thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you shot him a smile. “Are you planning on getting a job?”

“I want to, just to keep my mind busy, but it’ll be hard… The Wolverine is, uh, popular.”

“I’m sure you’ll fine something… I can help if you want.”

“I’ll let you know if I need any.”

You nodded and brought two plates over to the table. “Lunch is served.”

“Looks great. Thanks, princess.”

Princess. Now that was a nickname you hadn’t heard in a lot time. It had your mind reeling. Reliving all the times your Logan had called you that. Your hands began trembling as your lungs felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. Logan immediately noticed the sudden change in you.

“Y/N?” He called. “Are you alright?” He reached for you but you stumbled back, your breaths coming out in labored pants. 

“I— He—You—“ You couldn’t complete a thought without your breathing getting in the way.

It suddenly clicked. Your husband—Your Logan had called you that. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I overstepped. It just slipped out.” 

Logan stood up and held out his arms like he was calming a timid animal. Your hands were growing hotter, making the whole scenario worse. Logan could see small trails of smoke begin to come from your hands. 

“Y/N, tell me what I can do to help,” he pled. 

“I’m—fine,” you clearly lied.

Logan shook his head. “Tell me what you need.”

“I… Leave… Just… go…”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Please! Go!”

Logan stood there and watched as you used the wall to support yourself as you headed down the hall. He didn’t miss the burn marks your hands left on the walls as he watched you disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you. Logan sighed, shoulders sagging. He couldn’t leave you like this, at least not with your kitchen like this. Logan found food storage containers and placed the lunch in them before placing the containers in the fridge and quickly cleaning up the kitchen. He headed for the door, pausing to look back at the hallway before slipping out.

~~~

You ignored the pain in your gloved hands as you worked. Even sneaking in a few drinks to try to dull the pain and the memory of what happened. You were so embarrassed that a simple nickname sent you into an anxiety attack. After all this time since your husband’s death, you thought that you were more healed than this. But these last few weeks have proven otherwise.

“Buttercup!” Wade yelled across the bar as he entered. He sauntered over to where you were, sitting on a barstool across from you.

“Wade,” you greeted, remaining neutral. “What brings you in?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite fire starter at work?”

“Ssh!! Wade. No one can know. Remember?”

He held his hands up. “Alright. Grumpy. What’s got you all wound up? It’s it the lack of a sex life? Have you not had sex since your husband? How was that by the way? Did you have to do all the work since he was so old?”

“Just shut up, Wade! I’m trying to work.”

He reached over the bar and grabbed your wrist before you could walk away. “Hey. I’m sorry. Seriously. I came to check on you. Apparently it’s something I do now, Savior Of The Universe and all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, not really buying it. Especially when Logan came back from your place in a mood. He’s finished all the alcohol in the apartment and trust me, Blind Al had a lot of hiding spots that even I couldn’t find. And then there was the fact that Little Wolf came home and freaked when she saw the burn marks on the walls.”

You sighed. “I have a break in ten minutes. Just wait for me in the booth over there.”

~~~

You rolled the beer bottle around on the table, eyes focused on it. Wade sat across from you, watching you silently like he might be able to read your mind.

“It’s not his fault,” you whispered. “I know Logan is feeling guilty. I know it because they’re so similar… He called me a name that Logan—that my husband used to call me. It triggered me. I know he meant nothing by it, but my mind freaked… My powers…” your eyes fell to the gloves. “I’m losing control over them and the pain is getting worse… I shouldn’t have kicked him out the way I did, but I couldn’t help it.”

Wade sighed, pushing down a majority of the inappropriate comments. He could tell that a lot was weighing on you. “Honestly, I probably would have completely combusted.” You laughed, causing Wade to smile. “Logan will get over it. Peanut has his own shit that he’s dealing with while you’re dealing with yours.”

“I owe him an apology.”

Wade scoffed, waving his hand around before taking a sip of his own beer. “Trust me. I’ve read enough Emberine fanfics to know that you never need to apologize to him. No matter where your relationship is at.”

“You weren’t joking when you said you were my biggest fan.”

“I would never lie about something like that, Buttercup. Oh! Maybe when you get home, we can cuddle up and I can read the latest one I found. It’s called, Love That Burns, and a lot of it is eerily familiar to your story. Besides the ending. You died and then Logan went back in time and—“

“Maybe another time. Thanks for coming, Wade.”

“Big Brother Wade to the rescue.”

“I’m a lot older than you.”

He waved you off. “Tis just a number, Buttercup.”

~~~

You were exhausted by the time your shift was over and you got back to your apartment. When you entered, Laura was sitting on the couch working on homework. Her head immediately snapped up to look at you.

“Hey,” you greeted with a small smile, coming over to collapse beside her. “How was school?”

“Fine,” she responded with a huff. “Already have homework.”

“Need any help?”

“Do you?”

You sighed. “Laura—“

“I came home to burn marks on the wall. Do you know how scary that is? I thought… Well, I thought… the worst.”

“Oh, kiddo, I’m so sorry.” You reached over to her but she flinched away, breaking your head. “Laura—“

“I’m just going to go to my room.” She stood quickly gathering all her stuff.

“Laura, please.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, mom.”

You sighed as she disappeared into her room. You were really killing it today. Leaning forward, your head fell into your hands. You have no idea how long you were like that before there was a knock at the door. Cautious because it was so late, you peeked through the peep whole to see Logan standing there. You could tell that he was nervous and weighed down, emotionally and mentally. You opened the door, causing Logan to breathe a small sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you quickly said before Logan could speak up. 

“But I do. The nickname just slipped.”

“You couldn’t know that it would trigger me. Hell, I didn’t until it did. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kicked you out the way I did.”

“I deserved it.”

You chuckled. “We are not going to agree on this, are we?”

“Nope… I’m sorry again. Goodnight, Y/N.” He turned away and headed towards his apartment.

“Hey, Logan,” you called. He paused, turning to face you. “Can we have a redo of lunch tomorrow? I still owe you for carrying everything today.”

He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great. Goodnight, Logan. And don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You shut the door, leaving Logan in the hallway feeling exposed. Of course you knew that he was eating himself alive. You had married this universe’s version of him. You basically knew him already, yet his universe’s version of you and this version were different in so many ways that he felt you had an unfair advantage over him. But he would allow this to take its time. The strongest friendships always do.

next chapter >

[sendpseuds]

“Christ, Spencer’s still exists!?”

It has been many years since Obi-Wan has found himself at the mall, and if it weren’t for fear of incurring the wrath of his ex-wife, he’s fairly certain he never would have returned to this godforsaken place.

“You know what Spencer’s is?” 

Korkie’s voice is incredulous, arms crossed over his chest, staring up at Obi-Wan with his mother’s arched eyebrow like his father can’t possibly have knowledge about anything even mildly fun or cool.

Obi-Wan wants to roll his eyes.

Instead, he digs his nails into his palm.

Before you I was fun.

Before you I was cool.

“Of course I do,” he replies with a haughty huff, trying to swallow the defensive feeling in his throat, “When I was your age we would actually hang out at the mall.”

Korkie laughs.

Not kindly.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan feels even less cool than he had a moment before.

“You know,” Korkie muses as they near the novelty shop in question, his voice settling to a low note Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’s heard the boy hit before, finally settling into all the terrible changes and challenges of being a teenager, “Mom never lets me go in there—”

Translation: Here’s your chance to be the fun parent. The cool parent. 

It’s the oldest trick in the book, and frankly, he expects more from his own son, but they’ve got a long terrible day of ex-wife-mandated back-to-school shopping ahead of them and Obi-Wan thinks he’d rather start the nightmare with a smiling teen than a sulking one.

“I am curious,” Obi-Wan says, completely bypassing the comment about Satine. If he’s taking his son into what is, essentially, every teenager’s first sex shop, he’s at least going to make it his idea, “I wonder how much has changed.”

The excited smile on Korkie’s face looks a whole lot like victory.

“You can’t tell your mother.”

“Never,” Korkie promises before rushing ahead and into the dimly lit store.

Somehow, decades later, this place looks exactly the same. 

Dark.

Disorganized.

Debaucherous.

So very dark.

The front of the shop is littered with graphic t-shirts and novelty items — party games, gag gifts, and kitschy decor — the merchandise growing more and more adult the further back the display is. Obi-Wan is sure there are fuzzy handcuffs and dildos back by the Playboy posters and lava lamps but he remembers what it was like to be a teenage boy and Korkie’s going to learn about all of it sooner or later.

[And Satine is certainly not going to teach him about it if the boy’s recounting of her almost horrifyingly clinical sex talk is anything to go by.]

Korkie runs his hand over the orange owl on a black Hooter’s shirt and now, Obi-Wan does roll his eyes.

When the boy looks up, the mischievous smile on his face immediately transforms into a seething scowl.

He’s getting quite good at that look.

He looks so much like his mother.

“Don’t follow me, Dad!” Korkie bites out, scoffing loudly when Obi-Wan holds his hands up in surrender, turning on his heal and disappearing behind a shelf of alien-themed housewares.

“Yeah, Dad,” an unfamiliar voice says from somewhere behind him, the man’s tone low and teasing, “Leave him alone.”

Obi-Wan turns and finds himself pinned in place by eyes as blue as the Bad Bitch neon hanging beside him.

The beautiful young man standing behind the counter is wrapped all in black, ripped jeans slung low on his hips, plain black t-shirt beneath a leather harness, the sort Obi-Wan has never seen anyone wear outside of a porno and certainly never in public. Dyed black hair is growing out blonde at the roots and there’s a scar through the eyebrow that isn’t pierced and the way his stunning smile only grows makes something stir in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach.

I used to be cool.

I used to wear risky clothing and a ring in my ear.

I used to pop pills and smoke cigarettes.

I used to be young and hot.

Now, I’m just Dad.

“Well, that’s a surprise,” the stunning creature working at Spencer’s says, his voice lower than it was a moment ago, those wild blue eyes unabashedly tracing up and down Obi-Wan’s body with an amused grin, placing both his hands flat on the counter and hinging forward at the hips, arching his spine in a way that makes Obi-Wan sway forward, his eyes falling to a pair of perfect pink lips, imagining the metal piercing hard and cold between his teeth as they part to speak.

“I think I’d rather call you Daddy.”

[part two]

[alt-wannabe]

MCSR D&D

silver r(ogue) runs

silver r(anger) runs

Soulknife Rogue 10 / Fey Wanderer Ranger 5

we're back! ik this one took a little longer compared to the last few i've just been real busy with lab stuff! planning on having reign's sheet made next :3

I went for rogue for the general unbothered energy they tend to have, which silverr seems to have in spades. Rogues also have extremely high dex which we determined was gonna be silverr's highest ability score. I picked up ranger because the adept terrain knowledge is something that's really fitting for a speedrunner. I picked half elf for the race because they get a boost to charisma and that was voted as silverr's second highest ability score (note the charisma score of 18 that has exactly zero benefit to either of his classes lmao)

Ranger spell choices are extremely minimal so this is what we ended up with. Cure Wounds and Hunter's Mark for general playability, Longstrider for the SPEEDrunning joke, Locate Animals or Plants as a dupe for finding spawners.

Equipment time! Some smaller items of note include 20 obsidian (in 2 stacks of ten because dndbeyond is weird), navigator's tools for routing, pearls, a potion of healing, a fire resistance potion, and a pearl of power. To be fully honest Gray Bag of Tricks is entirely a joke based on gray=silver. The Eyes of Minute Seeing basically make you see better and give advantage on intelligence checks within an area around you and that was fitting to me bc silverr is pretty damn observant. The Ivory Goats were a pick entirely based on his old MC skin with the horns. Then I hope the Boots of Speed, Dragon Scale Armor, and Dragon Slayer Sword are fairly obvious connections.

Class featuresssss. Favored enemy was humans because that's just straight up other players and the dragonborns as a joke about the ender dragon. Speaking of the end, I chose Underdark for favored terrain as sort of a dupe for the End. Then two weapon fighting is the style I chose basically entirely thinking about the off-hand mechanic in minecraft.

This is a fun feature of the Fey Wanderer subclass that would legitimately give him horns in game.

Primeval Awareness is another D&D dupe for finding spawners or the stronghold in my eyes. A huge part of why I chose the Fey Wanderer subclass is because of the Otherworldly Glamour giving a huge boost to charisma checks. The common consensus of a lot of people is that silverr would have a really high charisma stat FULLY without realizing or having it be intentional and I figured that having him fey adjacent would be a realistic way of implementing that.

Finally here are his feats! Both of these picks were motivated by getting a plus one in the strength and charisma ability scores respectively. Slasher fits both because silverr is a strong pvper and because the soul blades from his rogue subclass can deal slashing damage. Shadow Touched seemed really helpful for a rogue with the invisibility spell, and also gave me access to False Life which kinda makes me think of the extra hearts given by a golden apple (and also silverr NEEDS those extra hit points he has a very low constitution score).

Again I hope y'all are liking these! Reign should be coming next but it may take me a little while to figure out what his deal is lol.

[eccentricgrace]

We Got Peter! (I Wish He Were My Kid) || IronDad

summary: five times the avengers meet peter parker, and the one time they realize who’s training him

tags: fluff, domestic, pov avengers, tony stark is peter parker's parental figure, peter can wield mjolnir, tired parent clint barton, hulk loves jokes <3

wc: 6,187

cross-posted on ao3 under the same name!

1. clint barton

Clint Barton is the first one to meet him.

His hands were blistered beyond belief from a foolhardy training session with the new girl, and with broken blisters brought blood. He just needed to get some bandaids, and one would think that an item as such would be easy to find in a compound designed top to bottom to cater to a superhero's every whim, but no.

He's in the only place someone can apparently find bandaids, when suddenly this curly brown-haired kid stumbled in looking the age of his eldest son. The kid wore pyjamas, a faded NASA tee and flannel pants, and he was walking while still hooked up to an IV, of which he held the stand beside him.

He froze when Clint was very obviously staring him down, and had the audacity to look caught.

Clint's getting real tired of picking up random kiddos that get themselves into trouble, so he cocked his head at the teen. "Who are you?"

"Peter," Peter answered with wide eyes. He had a healing shiner on his cheek, bruised a light yellow.

"What are you in here for, Peter?"

Peter opened his mouth, and then closed it. He awkwardly lifted the hem of his shirt up to reveal his entire torso heavily bandaged. Then he grimaced and dropped his shirt back down. "I wanted to go to the bathroom. Didn't want to call anyone for help."

Clint pulled a face. He looked around the medical wing for anyone else in sight, but the place was dim. He looked back at Peter. "Is someone supposed to be watching you?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm supposed to just rest. Everyone else is asleep."

Clint grunted. He looked back down at his hands and quickly peeled the bandaids out of their packaging, wrapping them expertly around his fingertips. "Well, get back in your bed, then."

Peter complied easily, settling back into a rumpled bed just across from the cabinets of medical supplies. He pulled the comforters back up, and Clint watched as his nose twitched and his teeth clenched from the movement.

Clint internally sighed. He closed the cabinet. "So, what's a kid doing with an injury like that? You someone's responsibility around here? Is it Steve?"

Peter shook his head tiredly and tilted his head back on the pillow. "No, not Steve. And the injury isn't... that bad, it's just— It stings, a little."

Clint walked over to the IV and narrowed his eyes at it. "This is strong stuff. Looks like it's running a little low, though."

"Yeah," Peter frowned. "It was dripping really fast, and it's almost been twenty four hours. The doctor lady, um, Dr. Cho said it should be switched out then."

"And where is she?"

"Got called away on a mission," Peter explained. "Something went wrong with some agents in Helsinki, they needed emergency medical attention."

Clint resigned. Guess he was taking care of this one, too. He walked over to the medical supplies and took a new bag of IV fluid before returning to Peter. "I'm gonna switch it out for you, hopefully that'll fix it up, okay?"

Peter nodded.

"So," Clint tore the opening. "How'd you get the stab wound?"

"How did you—"

Clint leveled him with a look. "You think I made it this far without recognizing a stab wound, kid?"

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. "Wrong place, wrong time."

Clint didn't believe that for a second. He narrowed his eyes at Peter and then went back to the IV, closing the clamp below the drip chamber. "And who's supposed to be watching you? The one who's asleep?"

"Mr. Stark," Peter answered quietly. "But he was worried sick ever since I got here, and I finally got him to leave and go to sleep, so I couldn't just call him back down here."

Clint studied Peter carefully. He stuck the IV spike into the port and then hung the bag back onto the stand. "Yeah, that checks out. Tony never can take care of himself."

Peter hummed noncommittally. "Thanks for drugging me."

Clint snorted. "Yeah, no problem."

He sat down beside the teen's bed. Peter tilted his head at him questioningly.

"I'll stick around til those meds kick in," Clint shrugged off. He hesitated. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Clint smiled knowingly and nodded. "My son— The oldest one, he's fifteen. I thought you two looked around the same age."

"What's his name?" Peter asked politely, looking quietly grateful for the company. "Your son."

"Cooper," Clint answered gruffly. "Lila's my daughter, she's the middle kid. Youngest is Nathaniel, Nathan for short."

He nodded firmly. "They're good kids. They look out for each other, I'm grateful for them."

Peter smiled softly. "Tell me about them. If you want."

Clint scratched at his chin and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up. "Why don't you tell me about yourself first? You're kind of the anomaly in this scenario, kid."

"Heh," Peter grinned. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Uh... What do you want to know?"

Clint had kids. He knew the best things to talk about with them, because they were his.

Nathan was the easiest, he was still a little itty bitty thing that barely reached his waist in height, and his favourite topics were the talking trains on his television shows and bargaining for more bologna on his sandwich at lunch.

Lila was second easiest, because she loved archery—she's gonna grow up to be a real class act like him, it's in the genes— so he'd bring her to the range and they'd talk about techniques.

Cooper was trickier, getting into that independent mindset and all, and it was hard to get a sentence or two out of him if he wanted to figure something out by himself. Clint always got him to spill though, props of working as a spy with background designed to persuade information.

But again: those were his kids. Clint Barton wasn't exactly the easiest guy to talk to, either. He decided to settle for a middle ground if he wanted conversation.

"What's your favourite subject in school?"

"Chemistry." Peter shrugged. "It's really easy, though."

"Well, there are AP classes for chemistry, aren't there?" Clint tilted his head. "You ever tried out for those? Heard they're great for colleges. Where you trying to go, New York University? Yale? What are the other big ones..."

"Uh, MIT." Peter nodded his head. "I'm trying to get into MIT. And I'm already taking the AP classes."

Clint blinked. "Oh. Well, alright then. You're set."

Peter smiled. "Guess so."

"So..." Clint drummed his thumb tiredly against his knee. "Tony, huh? Didn't know he had a... you."

"I'm interning," Peter rattled off quickly. A practiced excuse. He maintained direct eye contact, his chin jutted out with pride from his own lie. It did not go unnoticed to Clint.

"Oh, interning for Stark, eh?" Clint said. "I didn't know he had an internship program. Even more shocked a kid would sign up for said program. Sounds really boring."

"It can be sometimes," Peter shrugged. He glanced down at his own wound and broke into a sheepish grin. "You wouldn't want it to get too exciting though, otherwise you end up here. You know what I mean?"

"Tony's got a problem with employee health insurance?" Clint replied dryly, just trying to draw more information out of this teenager.

He still couldn't crack whether or not the kid was interning as an Avenger or if he was interning for Stark Industries and just got caught up in something he shouldn't have been around. ('Wrong place, wrong time' is a clever excuse, but not telling enough.)

"Oh, no!" Peter furrowed his eyebrows and backtracked. "No. That's not what I meant. I meant more like, exciting like when Avengers stuff is happening and like, sometimes that makes me a target for bad guys— working here, I mean. Not like, as an actually Avenger. Definitely not that, ha. I'm just a kid."

He sniffed in finality as he ended his sentence.

Clint studied him nonchalantly. "Sure."

"I feel really chatty all of the sudden."

"It's the drugs."

"That actually makes a lot of sense."

"Yeah, you get chatty, and then you totally conk out."

"Oh."

Clint tilted his head, studying the kid with narrowed eyes. He was all fidgety, restless as he looked down at his dripping IV and then the folds of his bedsheets and then everywhere else. Clint cleared his throat. "I really don't think Tony'd mind being woke up, you know. If it's his responsibility to babysit."

He knew if his kids were in hospice, you wouldn't be able to pull him out of the room, and he wouldn't give a damn how tired he was. That's just parenting.

"It's not babysitting," Peter argued, his nose scrunching up. "I'm entirely capable, like, practically an adult. Besides, Mr. Stark hardly sleeps, so like, waking him up isn't exactly on my weekend itinerary."

Clint grunted. "Alright, well, try not to keep yapping. Try and sleep, will you?"

"Yessir," Peter chirped.

Clint leaned his head back and closed his eyes, listening to the hum of lights and the aircon. Silence for a few seconds, and then—

"...Are you just gonna sit there? You can— You can go, if you want. I can get to sleep on my own, dude."

Clint exhaled stiffly through his nose. Unfortunately, his conscience won't allow him to leave til he knew this teenager was sound asleep. He couldn't just tell him that, though.

"I'm making sure you actually sleep and don't crawl your scrawny dumbass out of bed," Clint said simply, keeping his eyes closed.

"Can't wait to tell Ned that Hawkeye kept me hostage in the med bay," Peter joked, his eyes starting to droop and his tone beginning to lull. (Bingo. One step closer to knock-out town.)

"Yeah, yeah," Clint crossed his arms and went back to being quiet.

A few minutes later, he tilted his head up to peek— Peter was totally out cold, his mouth wide open while drool ran down his chin. Clint snorted softly and stood up to leave.

He could have sworn on the way there he heard Tony down another corridor, bickering with F.R.I.D.A.Y. about getting out of bed to check on "the kid."

Clint's mouth pulled up at the corner and he disappeared into the elevator.

2. thor

Thor was wandering from the kitchen when he saw the smaller Midgardian standing on the lawn outside, his arm stretched out with a strange device on his wrist.

He lazily swerved his axe back and forth and watched the child with interest, and finally decided to go out and investigate himself.

He swallowed the mouthful he had of bread. "I've never seen you before."

The child in question practically jumped out of his skin. He whipped around, his eyes wide, his jaw dropped— the device on his wrist dropped and shot a strand of string out uselessly to the field.

Thor raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," the child gasped. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Holy— It's— You're just— You're on Earth!"

"Yes, I'm visiting," Thor smiled wryly. "Did they begin to hire new Avengers while I was gone? Little ones, specifically?"

"Sorta," he blurted, looking upwards with awe. Then he quickly shook his head. "Not because you were gone! Just— I'm in training. No, I'm not. I'm not an Avenger. I'm just— I make the— Wow, you have — Really big muscles—"

Thor nodded sagely. "What's your name again?"

"Peter," the human said quickly, face going red. "Peter Parker."

Peter's eyes drift down to the axe hanging limp from Thor's hands, and then they widened all over again. He smiled shyly. "Can— Can I try it?"

Thor chuckled with amusement, holding the axe out. He flexed it out a few times. "Ah, this beauty. You can sure try, but it requires a very powerful heart, and you are ... very small. Like a splinter of the Yggdrasill. Itty-bitty."

He shoved the axe down in the soil with ease and continued talking as Peter put his hands firmly around the handle. "You see, it was forged by the power of a star—"

Peter used all his strength to yank the axe off, but not even a portion of it was needed. The thing flew upwards, flinging grass and bits of dirt everywhere. It pulled itself over Peter's shoulder from the force of his strength and he fell backwards into the lawn.

Thor stopped, words simply evaporating from his mouth.

"Oh my god," Peter repeated again. He slowly sat up, pulling the axe back over he shoulder with a lot more ease and simply holding it out in front of him with his... puny, twig arms.

Thor closed his mouth. Opened it again. Closed it again. This child— no. This man was now worth of his respect. He smiled nervously, shifting around on his feet.

"Uh. Oh," Thor stumbled. He clicked his tongue. "Um... Huh."

"This is so cool," Peter huffed, grin breaking out on his face. He turned the axe over in his hands. Then he held it back out to Thor. "That means I'm worthy, right?"

Thor made a cringing noise— a so-so motion with his hand. He scratched the back of his neck. "What's your father's name, Peter Parker?"

Peter made a face of discomfort.

"Your guardian," Thor corrected easily.

"May Parker?"

"Son of May Parker, I must admit, I underestimated you," Thor sighed. "...At least Stark can't wield it."

Thor stood there for a moment, looking down at Stormbreaker with a thoughtful frown on his face. He rolled his eyes and looked back to Peter. "Do you know where Banner is?"

Peter shrugged, looking caught between bewilderment and shock.

Thor nodded simply. "Well. It was an experience to meet you, Peter Parker."

He left without a second thought, leaving nothing behind him except a teenager stuck in an existential crisis.

(As you do.)

3. natasha romanov

Natasha met Peter for the first time in the Gym, the second floor of the Avengers Compound, West Wing.

"You up for some combat training?" Tony had asked her, looking up lamely from his mug of steaming black coffee. He had bags under his eyes, dark circles heavily visible.

"Why?" Natasha mused. "You feeling rusty, Tony?"

"Har har. No, not for me, for some new blood. Avengers recruit. He spent the other night in the med bay, I'm not exactly anxious to have that happen again," Tony sighed. "He's got some basics down, and he's strong, but figured he could do with some spider-hero tips."

That was all she was told. (What she inferred was her own business.)

She sat on the mat of the gym, waiting patiently for the new recruit to come in. She heard the gently swishing of the glass doors, and footsteps that stalled.

Natasha turned to meet him. She's greeted with the sight of a teenager, complete with a backpack, a shy smile, and a nervous wave. He wore sweats, a t-shirt, and faded out shoes that looked a step away from a shoebox coffin.

"Black Widow?" He asked. He shuffled on his feet. "Or should— Do I say Natasha? Ms— Ms. Romanoff?"

Needless to say, she was wary. She had her own morals on whether children should be able to fight, but she tried to keep in mind the circumstances. Whoever this kid was, he'd already spent time receiving medical attention from the other end of a fight, and if Tony was looking that exhausted over him then he must be one stubborn mule.

He'd benefit more from training than a scold to stay away from danger. Hero type, just like Steve. She'll give it a shot.

"Natasha's fine," she said simply. She stood up and crossed her arms. "Are you gonna tell me your name?"

"Peter Parker," he said, setting his backpack to the side. He kicked his shoes off and stepped onto the mat, holding his hand out for Natasha to shake.

Rookie mistake.

Natasha shook his hand, smiling pleasantly. She gave the handshake a second and a half before attempting her first move.

It was supposed to go like this: Natasha yanks him forward, shoves him to the ground, and pins him with one of his arms held backward. Easy. Something she was taught when she was six.

Instead, in the millisecond before she was about to move, Peter yanked his hand back. She saw a fleeting blur of Peter jumping over her.

She swung around, raising an eyebrow and her mouth opened in surprise. She pursed her lips, impressed. "Alright, then. You're full of surprises, aren't you, Peter?"

"I didn't realize we started," Peter said, exhaling through his mouth. He squared his hips and held up his fists with a focused dip in his brow.

"Gimme your best shot," Natasha grinned.

Natasha kept a close eye on him, watching as he stepped side to side, not making a move. Interesting.

She took a step forward, he took a step back.

She took a step backward, he—

He again jumped over her, dipped down, and swung his foot under Nat's legs. She fell on her back, looking up at the white vaulted ceiling.

"Oh, crap," Peter said quickly. He lowered his fists. "Are you okay? That was a little ha—"

She rolled to the side, grabbing Peter's knee and swinging upwards so their positions were switched. She caught her breath, now standing on both feet, and watched with curiosity as the kid started doing something... odd.

He started talking, seriously chattering up a storm, scrambling himself up in an unpracticed manner and matching her move for move. He wasn't refined in the slightest, and he pulled his punches hard. Natasha had no idea how much strength he wasn't even using.

His fighting was all slapstick, clumsy— he fought purely through instinct and with what Tony had properly summarized to her as "the basics." Simple punches. Kicks. He also seemed to rely heavily on his agility and flexibility, which Nat could respect.

He grunted after being shoved into the ground and tilted his head to the floor tiredly, his chest heaving with breath. "Oh man. I gotta say, I'm real glad I wasn't fighting against you back in Germany."

Natasha froze. She made a face and narrowed her eyes. "You're Spider-Man, aren't you?"

Peter furrowed his brows up at her and wrinkled his nose. "Um, yeah? I thought Mr. Stark told you that."

She pulled back fully, clearly signaling the training was over. She caught her breath again and analyzed his expression, the details in his face— youthful, stubborn confusion. She could see closer now some things she hadn't thought about before.

This teenager had been fighting toe-to-toe with Captain America that day, a little over two years ago.

"Tony wanted me to train you because you're going up against people you match your strength," she said bluntly, understanding now from all angles. "Because you don't know how to fight."

She thought back to the dark circles under Tony's eyes. The exasperation twinged with desperation in his voice when he asked.

Peter nodded slightly, looking sheepish. He was just a kid. He didn't ask for these powers, and yet, he was chomping at the bit to learn, to help.

Natasha held her hand out to help him up. "Alright, kid."

He looked down at her hand warily. "You're not gonna try to judo throw me again, are you?"

She smirked. "Not this time. I'm gonna teach you the basics on how to use that strength of yours. When I'm done with you, you'll be able to knock a guy unconscious with your pinky finger."

He huffed with amusement and took her hand, allowing himself to be helped up. "Awesome."

So that's how Natasha got another nephew.

4. bruce banner

It's four in the morning on a Saturday when Bruce Banner met him.

He had just woken up from a nightmare and felt... green around the gills. Deep breaths were calming, but not enough in the darkness of his bedroom, sweat dripping down his forehead as he carded his hands messily back and forth through his hair. After about five minutes where the underside of his skin still burned and pulled where it wanted to transform, he finally swung himself off the bed.

He took a cold shower, talking himself down the entire time the freezing droplets pelted his back.

"This bathroom is too small for you, Big Guy," Bruce seethed his teeth, vigorously rubbing shampoo into his scalp. "I'm not hulking out. We're not doing this tonight."

His heart lunged uncomfortably and Bruce scrubbed soap on the green-turning skin on his wrists. "Stop that, I'm not kidding around with you. Just forget the nightmare and go to bed."

His stomach turned, his skin stretching out as Hulk morphed the half of his face with an angry desperation. Hulk's voice came out of his throat, gruff and monstrous. "NO."

"This isn't a discussion," Bruce hissed back. He yanked the shower off, the handle breaking in his hands. He froze, inhaled deeply, and very calmly set the handle down. His eyes twitched.

"We're going to go get a nice, calming, cup of green tea," Bruce replied. "Then, we're going back to bed."

His stomach turned again. "JASMINE."

"Okay, fine," Bruce threw his hands up and stepped out of the shower, wiping the water off with his towel. "Jasmine. Fine. Whatever makes you happy."

Five minutes later, and he's stepping out of the elevator in a new set of pajamas, his hair wet and dripping down the back of his neck. He walked into the kitchen and clicked the electric kettle on. He picked up a mug from the cabinet, put the tea bag in, and waited with a tight frown on his face.

His eyes caught a light from the other room, coming from the ceiling. He looked up, and then subsequently froze.

A gangly teenager, sitting quietly on the living room ceiling, entirely razor-focused on a laptop that he held tightly on his lap.

Bruce blinked.

He blinked again.

The kid didn't disappear.

Bruce isn't sure what to do. The teenager didn't even seem to notice the predicament he was in, a stranger in a high-security compound who was also, you know, breaking the laws of gravity. Surely he had to belong to somebody. Someone had to have been mentoring him, maybe Steve or Nat.

(He hoped for his sake that it was not Natasha's mentee, because then he'd probably get his ass kicked for staring.)

Bruce scratched his head and turned the kettle off before it could scream, then poured the steaming water into his mug. He sat down and watched the kid curiously as he sipped his tea.

There was a lot to process. Luckily, he's a scientist, so he's had some practice at processing.

Bruce guessed that the teenager had conscious control over what he stuck to, begging by how tightly he gripped the laptop in his hands and how he fidgeted once, resettling himself where he sat, and still didn't fall.

What Bruce thought was even more interesting was how the teenager's face was of normal colour. Not a hint of purple, not even red. He wasn't breathing in a laboured way, either. Bruce had been watching him for two minutes now and he looked entirely normal, when any normal person would start showing signs of blood pooling. With this kind of biological capability, Bruce's best guess is that this ability is tied directly to his genes.

The kid narrowed his eyes. "X squared minus a hundred... divided by... But if I use the limit theorem then— Oh, my bad. I get it."

The teenager huffed with slight amusement and then went back into a silent concentration, his eyebrows furrowing as he read along the screen.

Differential calculus. Either a college student or an advanced high schooler.

Ten minutes passed, and Bruce had finished his scalding hot tea with little issue, much to Hulk's dismay. He kept his eyes on the teenager, waiting to gain more interesting details about the abilities he had.

Then his stomach turned again. Bruce immediately glared.

"Don't you do it," Bruce whispered.

His blood burned and his heart pounded angrily in his chest.

Hulk growled under his breath.

"Stop it," Bruce grumbled back. "Cut it out."

His fists clenched with a crack of his knuckles. "I'm DONE with watching," Hulk said defiantly.

"I don't give a shit! Hulk—"

"NO," Hulk roared, and his whole arm expanded and burned radioactive green. He reached out and shattered the mug, droplets of tea splattering across the kitchen. "DUMB SCIENCE STUFF."

And the illusion of being hidden disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Bruce quickly looked back at the ceiling and found the teenager to be gone, as if he had never even been there.

Bruce glared at the empty space. "I hate when you do this! You scare away perfectly nice people, and you're never compliant with what I want to do—"

His chest expanded with anger. Hulk's eyes burned with rage, and he pounded a fist down on the counter. "YOU ARE DUMB. NOT COMPLIANT. BANNER STINKS, HULK STRONG."

He could feel himself slipping away, and his skin shifted mossy green. Hulk roared again and swung his arm powerfully across the kitchen counter, the wood splintering in chunks while cabinet doors flung across the room.

Hulk turned to throw a punch at the counters behind him but his whole arm was halted by an arm unmistakably by... something. Hulk grunted and looked over his bulky fist, and made eye contact with the scrawny teenager from before.

"Oh shit," the kid breathed. "Uh... Hey, Mr. Hulk."

Hulk narrowed his eyes and curled a lip to show his barred teeth. "MOVE. HULK, SMASH KITCHEN."

"How about I tell you a joke instead?" The teenager said quickly. "You like jokes? I know a lot of jokes!"

"JOKE?"

"Oh, yeah," the teen nodded. "I bet I can make you laugh. It makes all the superheroes laugh, and you're— You're a superhero."

"HULK, SUPERHERO?"

"Yeah!" The kid smiled and slowly let Hulk's hand go. "Of course, dude. You're an Avenger."

Hulk stared.

"So do you want to hear the joke?"

Hulk jerked a tight nod.

"Okay, awesome!" The teenager sniffed. "What's a superhero's favourite drink?"

"WHAT?" Hulk asked.

"Fruit punch," he said with a grin.

Hulk paused, then he grinned and let out a boisterous laugh. "GOOD JOKE. HULK LIKE PUNCHING. HULK, SMASH."

And Hulk laughed, and laughed, and laughed— Until Bruce Banner leaned tiredly against the unbroken kitchen counter with the remains of his shirt draping around his neck. He looked up at the teenager with confusion. He furrowed his eyebrows. "You... You just stopped the Hulk."

The kid smiled back at him, eyebags under red eyes. "I think that if was like, even one percent more awake right now, I would be freaking out."

"Yeah," Bruce huffed. "Yeah, Hulk isn't pretty, I wouldn't blame you."

"No, I mean— Meeting you," he gestured up and down. "I was you for Halloween when I was a kid. I had like, a lab coat, and I carried around a printed out copy of your papers on Gamma Radiation."

Bruce blinked several times in shock and disbelief. He stumbled a bit. "You dressed up as Bruce Banner for Halloween? When— When you were a kid?"

"Yeah," the kid smiled nervously. He held out his hand. "Um, Peter. Peter Parker."

Bruce stared down at his hand and then finally shook it, his movements stunted and lazily from his surprise. "It's nice to meet you, Peter."

"Well, I really need to get to sleep," Peter said with a huffed laugh, looking up at the clock above the fridge. "But uh, it was nice meeting you too. I'll see you around, Dr. Banner."

Peter Parker was already well on a different floor before Bruce's mind finally caught up with him, and he realized he had forgotten to ask Peter about his powers.

(Not to worry, because it was only the next morning that Tony stalked into his lab with a proud grin on his face, and introduced him to Peter Parker for the second time, praising and prattling about how he had found a brainiac teenager smarter than the both of them combined.)

5. steve rogers

The first time Steve met him, it was completely and entirely by chance.

He was standing in the elevator, hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his hoodie. The floors flickered down from five, to four, three, two, and then they stopped. The doors opened and the kid bumbled inwards, backpack strung over his shoulder and earbuds in his ears— he's staring down at his phone.

"This bucket of bolts is never going to get us past that blockade," he murmured quietly, then smiled cockily. "This baby's got a few surprises left in her, sweetheart."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed in a curious amusement. Part of him wanted to speak up, tell the kid it wasn't safe to walk around without hearing or seeing your surroundings— if he had done that when he was Peter's age, he woulda found himself beat up in an alleyway behind the old theatre.

The other part of him didn't want to seem old and lame, so instead he jerked his chin up. "What are you watching?"

The teenager looked up quickly. His mouth opened in shock as he suddenly realized the company he was with— a look Steve was regularly given. He pulled an earbud out. "Uh, Star Wars."

"Oh," Steve nodded vaguely. "I've meant to watch that, at some point..."

"It's really good," the teen smiled earnestly. "I started watching this in the car on the way here, so I'll have to finish it after I see Mr. Stark, but—"

Steve raised an eyebrow with interest at the mention of Tony. He cleared his throat politely, shifting on his feet to look at him better. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you before. What's your name, kid?"

"My name's Peter," he replied awkwardly and fidgeted with the cracks in his phone's screen protector. "Do I call you, uh— Mr— Captain? Captain, uh... Rogers? Er—"

"Steve is fine," Steve smiled teasingly. "Nice to meet you, Peter. Are you an intern? You look young. Not that I can judge, I was working at eight, passing newspapers to neighbors for a penny."

"...Yeah, I'm an intern," Peter explained, chuckling slightly. He cleared his throat. "Still in highschool though. You know— It's really funny, actually, because I had to watch one of your videos for class yesterday."

Steve grimaced. "Oh no."

Peter's smile widened. "I think I have your whole like, script, memorized. Hearing your voice saying completely different things is throwing me off."

Steve felt his ears go hot. He was crawling in his own skin, hiding his face behind his hand and smiling tiredly. "Those are a long story—"

"So," Peter continued seriously over him, doing what Steve could only assume was his best 'Captain America' impression. "You got detention—"

"No," Steve laughed hard, hand on his chest. "Why do they still use those? God—"

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator door finally dinged. Peter smiled at him. "Well, uh, it was nice talking with you. Especially while not like, fighting."

Steve took a breath, confused and recovering from the previous bout of laughter. "Hm?"

Peter simply walked out of the elevator and saluted him with a grin. "Bye, Brooklyn."

The elevator door closed. Steve is left alone with his jaw dropped.

Who said the youth weren't surprising?

+1: tony stark

Rhodey wandered into the second floor living room of the Compound with the distinctive clicking noise of the prosthetics. He rapped his knuckles on the wall. "Anybody know where Tony is?"

Natasha, lounged on the white loveseat against the window, looked up from her book. "Is he even here?"

"Well, yeah," Rhodey huffed. "Where else would he be? Has nobody seen him even dig up here for coffee, like the star-nosed caffeine mole he is?"

"Nope," Clint said, sitting against the floor and scrolling aimlessly through his phone with an expression of eternal boredom. "Is he with his kid?"

Steve froze from his spot at the stovetop, looking up with alarm. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered above the boiling water pot.

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows and put the chess piece he was holding back on the board. He looked over to Thor, who was so ferociously concentrated on winning that he didn't even seem to hear the conversation around him.

Bruce kicked him lightly in the shin. "Tony's got a kid?"

Thor widened his eyes, looked up and around like a startled animal. "I wasn't aware Stark had offspring?"

"He has an intern," Natasha corrected with amusement, giving Tony, and the confused company, the benefit of the doubt. "Not quite his."

"Oh, that's his kid," Rhodey sighed heavily. "He's a scrawny little punk. Definitely Stark blood. I'll go check the lab."

"Hold it," Clint looked up in sarcastic awe. "You mean to say someone other than Bruce was let into the precious lab?"

"It's just a safety precaution," Bruce explained in embarrassed stuttered mumbles. "There's a lot of dangerous stuff in there—"

"But he lets a kid—"

"Intern—"

The elevator chimed. The doors opened and the two fools in question meandered out into the hallway. As they walked down to the living room, all the Avengers could hear a familiar voice all of which had been acquainted to ramble off.

"I'm just saying, I would've had more time to fix the calculations myself but I got caught up on everything with this huge guy who was totally tearing up Times Square," Peter rounded the corner, smears of oil and general mechanic schmutz on his cheek. He trailed closely next to Tony, who was grinning down at a holographic tablet and moving around parts of a digital suit rendering.

Tony wandered into the kitchen. "Yeah, I heard your report. I also heard, via May, that you forgot to do your homework again though, huh? What's your excuse for that one, kiddie?"

Peter hopped up on the kitchen counter, taking the tablet from Tony's hand. He started doing his own work on the render as Tony stepped around Steve to get to the fridge.

"Apple juice?" Tony called out, swinging the fridge door open. "We're out of the, uh... the Capri suns, but I put more on the grocery list for next time."

"Apple juice is fine, thanks," Peter chirped. He tilted his head and zoomed in on the Iron Man chest plate. "Mr. Stark, what if we changed the layering of the arc reactor to fit the nano-particles, instead of reworking the whole thing?"

Tony hummed, tossed back a bottle of apple juice (which Peter caught without looking) and closed the fridge. He took a seat next to Peter, but actually on a barstool rather than on the counter, and looked over at the tablet.

"Show me," he said blankly.

Peter moved some things on the screen, wrote down some numbers and letters, and looked up at him. Tony scratched his goatee in thought, and then nodded. He ruffled Peter's hair. "Yeah. Looks good, kid. I'll get the prototypes 3D-printed for next time and we'll put it all together."

"Awesome," Peter grinned. He cracked open the apple juice and sipped at it. He looked up at the rest of the living room. "Oh, hey, guys."

The Avengers at this moment were all suddenly on the exact same page, albeit with varying reactions. Clint, who was smirking, an eyebrow raised, knowing and maybe even a little impressed. Bruce, who had now put together the pieces he had and was pleasantly surprised, beside Thor who was only surprised. Steve, the most shocked, and Nat, the least shocked.

Meanwhile, Tony, finally looking up only when Peter said hello, recognized the people in the room. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Ah. Avengers, this is Peter."

"We know," Clint said smugly. "Pretty sure we've all met him."

"Sorry?" Tony furrowed his eyebrows. He looked between Peter, and then the rest of the Avengers. "When did you meet each other? Other than Romanoff and Banner, I haven't told anyone else about the kid—"

"I met them," Peter spoke up. He put his finished bottle of apple juice on the counter and smiled. "I met Hawkeye in the medbay one night, Steve in the elevator, and Thor on the lawn— that was really cool, by the way."

Tony hesitated, and then shrugged. "Alright, then. Anyways, nobody can steal him. You guys can get your own Avenger intern prodigies, this one is mine. Looking at you, Rogers."

Peter covered his face with one hand and stifled a laugh. "Mr. Stark—"

Steve put his hands up defensively, giving a kind smile. "No worries, Tony."

(Everybody knew it would be impossible to separate the two, anyways. But anybody would be lucky to have Peter as a kid-intern-thing...

Just ask Tony Stark.)

[vampirzina]

Could you do something with Reiko and thief reader who has total Black Cat vibes?

Thin Veil

“ Could you do something with Reiko and thief reader who has total Black Cat vibes? ”

There’s this thief in the night who took a beating heart, a heart whose owner hopes for its return in the hands of the one who took it… Only if they’d give him theirs to hold in return. Reiko x Thief!Reader

tw(s): gn pronouns, angsty, commitment issues, needy!reiko, sfw, mdni

notes: im not too familiar with black cat or know too much about reiko imo but i didn’t want to let you down 🙏 may elaborate on them more in the future but for now this

masterlist

Out of all the things about you, Reiko desperately wanted to tear that bothersome mask off of you the most… It’s only gotten in the way of him and you he thinks, fueling his frustrations and inability to sate himself. He’s long forgotten the stress of his father to catch said thief you, the thief who’s gotten away with far too much.

Why were General Shao’s men so lackluster?

You have stolen everything at this point. And now that you’ve run out of things to steal, you dove right for Reiko’s heart; no jewel or expensive item could replace the hole in his chest where his heart should be beating.

He doesn’t know why, but he always entertains your constant games of cat-and-mouse, and seems glad to do it when he thinks General Shao isn’t looking. He finds himself bailing you out at his expense, if it meant you’ll want to see him again as much as he wanted to see you.

He’d have half the heart to catch you sincerely this time, just so he could pull back the curtains on who you really are—but his fear of losing you to prison or worse trumps that. If you were some ordinary crook he wouldn’t care; but you weren’t.

He shouldn’t have started to care as much as he did because it would have made it easier to do his job.

But no matter how much he tries, even getting onto his knees and staying there until it bruises won’t be enough to convince you to see him outside of this game you play. He keeps biting the curb with you. You’re not exactly sure why you do it either, but you just know you’re not willing to comply.

Your affection just felt better behind a thin veil.

Reiko does anything to tear at it, however; he didn’t realize how crazy it was to have asked his father if he could start taking night duties around Outworld—any mission, any task—if it meant he had a chance to run into you, he’d do it. Your kisses took away any exhaustion of his.

“A new low for you, Rei,” you reclined back, your legs coming to cross over each other as you watched him from atop the low roof of a closed stall. “I didn’t think you’d miss me this much but… You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You’d tug your legs away from the grabby man who reached up to fetch you down from there. The soldier grunts at that—he needs you tonight. In fact, he wasn’t even supposed to be out here, but today was cruel to him. It didn’t help that he had his cravings for you to pair with your elusiveness and reputation as this horrible crook.

If he’s ever seen with you, everything he’d ever achieved could come to an abrupt conclusion—maybe he’d resort to thieving like you… At least you’d be able to make ends meet with his help, if you’d even accept it.

He could ignore that for a while longer and play pretend again. He just needed you. The man blinks up at you with a boyish yet tired gleam, and shamefully, he looks away.

You notice his neediness by the wear on his face from the continuous troubled look he’d wear on and off throughout the day and astute silence. Like a miracle, you fold, and your embrace is healing against his rigid body.

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, your faces nearly touching again from your intimate kiss seconds ago. Whether or not he did confide in you, it would never be the end of it.

Reiko doesn’t like playing pretend anymore these days, but if tomorrow you suddenly had a change of spirit and returned all the things you’d ever stolen, don’t return the heart you stole.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

[mysteriousbp]

Why didn’t Integrity just load their last save when they died to Axis? (Headcanon)

Some of you may say is because Flowey had control over the saves… That’s impossible.

Because Flowey didn’t exist yet.

Alphys True Lab entry 6 says that she receives the bodies of the fallen down monsters.

Meaning that Kanako just arrived at the lab.

That also means that Asgore has already 5 souls because we see that in Chujin’s office that he kept track of the human souls.

And there’s markings for the 5 souls meaning that they died before Chujin died.

And we know that flower that became Flowey was given Determination after Alphys receiving the bodies of the fallen down monsters because Alphys talks about finally choosing a candidate to test her theory of what would happen if something without a soul gets the will to live in entry 8 meaning that happens after entry 6.

So if Flowey wasn’t a thing yet. Why couldn’t Integrity save?

Well. Only the being with the highest Determination can save and reset…

What if… Patience or Bravery have a higher Determination than Integrity? And that’s why Integrity can’t save. After all those two are still technically alive because their souls aren’t shattered.

That’s at least my explanation in my AU.

In my AU Patience couldn’t defeat Asgore no matter the route. So they did a last pacifist run before giving up. Bravely gave up their soul like Clover and not wanting to undo the good that they did Bravely accepted their fate. But in my AU Bravely has the second highest Determination behind Frisk. Meaning that Integrity, Perseverance and Kindness couldn’t save or reset.

That’s why Integrity did what they did. Because they couldn’t save, they couldn’t heal from save points. So when they HP was low and they run out of items they started to use self defense to try to survive.

I hope my explanation was good enough…

[lost-girl-2021]

Part three of "Amnesia (or is it . . . )

I might/probably will make another part/parts of this, but here's the 'big thing' ig. It's a tad bit long but I couldn't find a great stopping point and figured I'd just give it all at once. A lil angsty ngl, but most things I write are. Side note: if anyone wants to run with this idea and make a full-blown fic, please do! And please tag me, cause I like reading fics more than writing them lol. I'd love to see what other people come up with (also please tag/comment fic recs, I'm desperate bro)

He liked floating in the water, the sun shining on his face. A little ways away, Tuk and some of the younger Metkyina kids were digging up pretty shells. Tomorrow, they had a class where they’d be learning a special, ancient kind of jewelry making. It’d take them a full season to finish their creations. Spider remembered doing something similar when he was younger. It was a lesson in patience above anything else. He made his for Tuk, actually. He’d finished it right as she’d been born, gifted it to her the first time he saw her. A necklace, he recalls. All of the Sully clan had gotten some gift or another from him. All the avatars left on the planet had pieces made by a little, clumsy Spider, too. Their human halves got almost matching, smaller items. He hadn’t fully understood the switch between bodies and hadn’t wanted anyone to feel left out.

He’d almost forgotten all he made for Norm until he saw him again. 

The avatar man stood small, shoulders hunched and eyes big. Sadness radiated in everything, from the twitch of his ears to the low swoosh of his tail. He looked at Spider and felt sad. Crapily made, messy attempts at armbands and bracelets and a crooked necklace hung from his body like he’d never consider taking them off.

They locked eyes and Norm waved and Spider pretended to look confused. “Hey, Tuk, who’s that guy?”

The little girl squealed “Norm!” so loud birds nearby flew away.

He went out after her reluctantly, following her footprints through the sand and towards the Avatar he dreaded more than most.

Of course, wherever Norm went, so did loads of human technology. Case upon case of machinery to run tests Spider didn’t need. He bit his tongue as he fought to stand still, watching the man look him over.

Well, shit.

__

Norm mumbled to himself as the scans loaded, frowning down at the picture of his brain. Spider tried not to look at him, it made his stomach hurt.

“Have you been having headaches lately, kiddo?”

He blinked. Now that Norm mentioned it . . . “Uh, yeah.”

“How often?”

“Like, I dunno, every few days?” He shrugged, not really sure. “They don’t last too long, though.”

“And is it more here,” He ran a finger across the top of his head. “Here,” His forehead, the bridge of his nose. “Or here?” He cupped the back of his head, in the spot where his hair started and his spine ended.

Spider gasped, pulling away. “Ow.”

He didn’t like the look on the scientist's face.

——

Norm dismissed him to finish his day running and swimming and learning with his friends. He’d met their newfound companions, two boys and a girl who looked at Lo’ak like he was everything. Spider pretended not to notice, sticking close to Neteyam as they sat half on a small island. The oldest Sully boy had gravitated toward Spider again and again since they’d both healed enough to leave home. He could remember a time when they had been the closest, when Kiri was too enthralled with Mo’at and her stories and Lo’ak was too itty-bitty to play. The memories were blurry and half-there, but they were happy. He wondered in Neteyam remembered them, too. That wasn’t why he was sticking close, of course. It was Neteyam’s job as the oldest (oldest Sully, Spider was still the oldest kid, despite everyone insisting height aged them or some nonsense like that) to watch out for him. It would look bad for him to lose the ‘amnesiac’ in the water.

Not that his story would last for much longer with Norm hanging around. He was half-sure Jake and Neytiri would come storming out yelling at him any minute now. Spider stretched out and easily pulled on the latches of his mask. Taking in a deep breath, he pulled it off his face, rubbing a hand over the aching lines pressed into his skin. He enjoyed the feel of the breeze on his cheeks, the sunlight warm and everything fresh. Oh, how he wished he could chuck the mask into the water, could breathe without it. Could be one of the People and not one of the invaders.

“Take a breath, Spi.” Neteyam ordered gently, always watching. Begrudgingly, Spider raised the mask to his face and pressed it back into his skin, taking in another deep breath. He removed it once more, only to cup some water with his free hand and scrub the sweat and grime from his face. He washed up often and could hold his breath longer than most humans he knew, but there was only so much he could do to fight to keep his face clean.

Sighing, he secured his mask back on his face, rolling onto his side and peering up at his almost-brother.

“We should work on your hair tonight.” He commented, pulling gently on one of his locs. “It’s grown fast.”

Not that fast. It’d just been a long time since he’d been able to take care of it. Spider hummed, thinking to himself. He wondered how far Neteyam’s generosity would stretch.

Carefully, he spoke. “I don’t remember how.”

The other boy froze for a half-second, before reaching down and running a hand over his head. “That’s alright. I’ll help you.”

The twisting feeling in his stomach came back. Guilt. Neteyam was hurt, barely a week past getting shot.

“It’s okay, I can figure it out.” He assured, ignoring how that hurt even more. He didn’t want to do it himself. He wanted to be little again, when Neytiri and Jake still saw him as a little kid and not anything else. He missed the days when Mo’at, Neytiri, and Jake would each take one of the three of them, twisting and braiding and trimming hair expertly. He remembered being ten and deciding he wanted to look like Toruk Makto, grinning so big when it was done and they matched. Even if he started doing his own hair a little bit earlier than the others, started having to wait until after the two, then three, then four Sully kids before his own got fixed up— well, it didn’t matter. Because, it still got done. Until, eventually, like all things, it just didn’t.

“Spider, I can help.” He grabbed him by the shoulder, stretching his long arm. “Let me help you.”

His whole body hurt, physically ached with pain he couldn’t describe. He was a monster.

“Spi?”

“I forgot that I— I told Norm I’d go back in a few hours.” He raised up, brushing Neteyam off and peering towards the village, close enough by that he could see a woman walking along the edge of the beach. He didn’t hesitate to dive, swimming fast and deep. He couldn’t stand to look at his friends anymore, couldn’t bear the guilt. 

Stumbling onto land, he made his way to the home that was slowly becoming familiar to him. He knew that his mat would be between Neteyam and Lo’ak, Kiri curled up on one side, Jake, Neytiri and baby Tuk on the other. At night, they’d cover him in soft woven blankets and make sure he stayed warm throughout the night. If he had a nightmare or grew cold, he could curl into one of his larger friends (brothers) easily. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. In the morning, Neytiri would hum or sing softly and Jake would run a hand over each of their heads when he thought they were still asleep. He could pretend and pretend for days, weeks, decades and hold onto that warmth (that love) even if he didn’t deserve it.

But, could his soul handle the burden of his lies?

He stumbled into the Sully’s home, expecting all the adults to be hidden away talking about him or some other problem they had to deal with. But, there, right there, was Norm. Who came all this way and risked his safety for Spider.

Norm used to carry him around on his shoulders and throw him in the air and sing silly songs to make him laugh. He called him Spider and made sure he brushed his teeth and helped him with his math homework. Norm helped to raise him and Spider repaid him in lies.

“Why are you crying, buddy?”

He hadn’t realized he was. Opening his mouth to say so, all he managed to get out was a sobbed “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Spider.”

Norm was not a hugger. He was a carry-er, a lift-er, a help-you-er. Just until he could do it himself, until he got good enough to take care of himself. But, suddenly, Norm was hugging him and embarrassingly enough Spider was pretty much sat in his lap and he really was much too old for this—

It did feel nice, though.

He buried his face in Norm’s chest, relishing in the dark and the quiet of the moment. He wished he could be little again, when it was okay to be scared and be held. He missed being taken care of.

It was hard, being with Quaritch and the others. He treated Spider like some weird mix of soldier, son, and prisoner. They woke up early and worked hard the whole day, barely taking any breaks. When he got hurt, it was patched up and then he was expected to get right back up. It wasn’t like the forest he knew, where they could have days to play and have fun even during the most boring chores and classes. There was no place to rest that was safe, no time outside of his mask when he wasn’t in a cell. His songchord was gone, taken. His skin was burnt. He was in a constant state of fight, fight, fight. Even if Quaritch called him son and laughed at his jokes— even if on quiet, cold nights he told him stories of his mom and didn’t comment when he buried himself under one of the spare jackets, big enough to be a blanket on him. None of that was safe or home or . . . 

It wasn’t this.

“I— I’m a liar.”

The arms around him grew tighter. “ . . . what?”

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 22

I never know what to say when introducing a new chapter because I don't want to spoil anything! So just read and I hope you like it 😊😊

Series master list

Chapter 23

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings have their own post (and contain spoilers)

For once you wake up before the shrill of the alarm, the old wind-up clock still ticking away on Frankie’s bedside table. Twelve minutes until it goes off with a ring that reaches your neighbors. Since your neighbor is Pope you’re well aware of this, his loud banging on the wall almost drowning out the alarm when he’s in that mood. 

You roll over and stretch out, your movements disturbing the bed enough to pull a low growl from Frankie. His arm is warm across your waist and when you roll over to face him he tugs you closer, tucking your head under his chin. 

“Don’t wake up yet, cariño,” he mutters, his voice rough from sleep. 

“The sun woke me up,” you mumble against his neck, “it’s almost time anyway.” Frankie’s hand smooths over your body, his fingers dragging softly over your back, as always they pause over the scars on your waist, just below your ribs. The gunshot wound healed over now, only rough patches of skin on either side of your body betraying what a close call it had been that day five years ago. 

“Five years to the day, Frankie,” you say, as his fingers circle the top scar. 

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbles, his fingers leaving the scar and slipping down to cup your ass instead, “five fucking years in a QZ, almost six years of this infection bullshit, and no end in sight.” He pulls you tighter, tugging the blanket over your heads, cocooning you under his warm skin and dim light. 

Almost six years had passed, none of them easier than the next but at least you were both still alive, still together. Still in Arlington and still living in the same building as Pope, Benny and Hannah. But the effects of society coming to a grinding halt became  more and more pronounced with every year that passed. Electricity came and went, blackouts were common. Hot water was rare now and often ran out before everyone had a chance to take a shower. But those were the things you got used to eventually, like patching every item of clothing until it fell apart, duct taping shoes until the holes were too big to fix. Greasy hair, broken fingernails, always wearing clothes slightly too big because you couldn't be picky about sizes when you needed a new pair of jeans after your old ones were so threadbare you couldn’t even use them for rags. But you did anyway because the end of the world unfortunately didn’t mean the end of your period. 

Rations getting smaller and smaller was harder to deal with, going hungry most days was rough. There was some food production up and running in some parts of the country, and there were less people to feed, a lot less people. But transporting food, or anything, between QZ:s was still a very dangerous business. In the no man’s land between QZ:s, raiders and infected roamed, each lethal in their own way. Only the most hard core smugglers had the skills and the guts to leave the QZ and scavenge for supplies or trade with other smugglers. 

Unfortunately for you, that was exactly what Frankie and Pope were now doing to make the ration cards last longer. Pope had lasted less than six months with FEDRA before he got fed up with the C.O. Feigning PTSD, he got himself discharged, telling you he preferred that to risking FEDRA lock up for punching the commanding officer. Together he and Frankie signed up for menial labor jobs inside the QZ, but it didn’t take Pope long to find new smuggling partners and new routes, going back to the job he’d done in Franklin. 

At first he didn't involve Frankie, his friend working through withdrawals and treatment for his very real PTSD. Benny had tracked down a FEDRA officer who used to serve in the marines and had worked with veterans after his retirement. The elderly man, Herb, seemed to be exactly what Frankie needed. His cut the bullshit, Morales, attitude had Frankie mentally sitting up straighter after their first meeting. It took time, but little by little, he was able to use the tools Herb taught him to stop his mind from spiraling out of control. The nightmares were still there, but less frequent and less frightening, and waking up from them got easier. As they lost their power over his mind, sleep without drugs became less intimidating. Quitting them cold turkey turned out to be too difficult, but with Herb’s advice, you took control over them, giving Frankie one tablet at night to help him sleep. Gradually you gave him smaller pieces, until eventually Frankie decided he’d sleep without them. He’d still wake up in a cold sweat most nights, but now he could bring his mind under control and go back to sleep. It didn’t always work, but you made Frankie promise he’d wake you up if he couldn’t fall back to sleep after a nightmare. It made the nights less frightening when he knew he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathe in your sleep warm skin as you wrapped your arms around him. Sometimes that was all he needed, to pull you tight against him, feel your hands stroke his hair, down his back. Other nights he needed to talk about the nightmare, or something else, distract his mind enough so that he’d feel sleepy again. Whatever he needed, you made sure he had it, challenging him whenever his old habit of doubting his worth crept to the surface. 

You needed him as much as he needed you, he gave your life meaning in the grim reality you now lived in. If Frankie was by your side, with all the love he gave you, there was still a reason to get up every morning and face the QZ. And you made sure he knew that, that his very presence made you feel calm and safe, and above all, loved. And you made sure he always knew how much you loved him, how if you had to choose between life before the outbreak without him, and life after the outbreak with him, you’d always choose life with him, despite the cordyceps virus and the heartbreak it had brought. Frankie was the center of your universe and you didn’t let him forget that for a single moment. 

After about a year of Frankie doing menial work and meeting Herb at a makeshift office in his apartment twice a week, Pope asked Frankie if he wanted in on the smuggling. FEDRA had once again cut the number of rations they would pay and smuggling would help with that. You had to give Frankie credit, he didn’t say yes to Pope straight away, he came back that night and sat down, telling you what Pope had suggested. It scared you, the idea of Frankie, and Pope, going outside the QZ. If something happened, chances were you’d never know, they’d just never come back and you’d be left worrying and wondering. But their smuggling made sure there was enough food on the table for the three of you, and supplies that sometimes made the difference between life and death; medicines, especially antibiotics, were hard to come by and there were several people in the QZ who owed their life to Frankie and Pope being able to get their hands on certain medication. So, reluctantly, you told Frankie to work with Pope. And honestly, you’d rather they work together than with someone else. Years of serving together had made the two of them in sync, perfectly suited to handling the dangers of smuggling in and our of the QZ.

One of the dangers was being caught by FEDRA. They’d banned smuggling as soon as the QZ’s were up. Or not so much the smuggling as leaving the QZ, strict quarantine rules were in effect and anyone caught breaking them was punished. At first it had been only quarantine, fines and maybe time in a lock up. But by the time Pope asked Frankie to join him, the official punishment was public execution, although that had never been enforced yet. 

Other QZ:s had fallen when people, both smugglers and others, had snuck in after being exposed to infected. Franklin was one of them, a small group of survivors had turned up a few days after the Franklin radio tower had gone silent. They said the breakout had occurred at the main market for trading, two people had suddenly turned and those bit as the market erupted into panic had been too afraid to face FEDRA, preferring to pretend nothing had happened. In those early days, many people still chose to live in denial of the infection. 

The survivors from Franklin had been put in quarantine, half of them had turned within the day, and Arlington FEDRA had deemed it too risky to let the rest in. They’d all been executed. Pope had left FEDRA shortly afterwards, he’d been assigned to the firing squad, his eyes black when he told you the story.   

By now Frankie and Pope had been smuggling for four years, establishing routes and connections both inside and outside the QZ. Today the plan was to go on a short run outside the QZ to meet up with smugglers from a nearby, smaller QZ. They were going to a location they’d been to many times, the route cleared from infected long ago and usually very safe, at least as safe as it could be outside the QZ. But they’re meeting with a new group to set up a new trade. The group had been recommended by smugglers Pope had been working with since the beginning, so he trusted them. But meeting new people and establishing a new trade was always risky. Pope had a long scar on his right forearm as a reminder from a new trade gone wrong, only Frankie’s quick trigger finger had saved him that time. 

“I need to get up, Frankie,” you mumbled into his chest, he still had his arm around you and judging by his breathing, he’d almost fallen back to sleep.

“No,” came the drowsy reply, his arm tightening around you. “You stay here with me today, fuck everything.” 

“Lovely as that sounds, if I’m late you know they’ll dock my pay, they’ve been worse than ever lately.” You wriggle out from under his heavy arm as Frankie grumbles in protest, but he lets you go. He has to push himself out of bed too and as you head to the shower to see if there’s any hot water this morning, he sits on the bed rubbing his eyes. He’d only woken up once in the night but it had been one of his worst nightmares. It was a recurring one replaying Lucía’s last moments, the loud gunshot echoing in his mind always woke him up, and when he opened his eyes he’d see her face floating in the darkness above him. Shoving the image away, he pushes himself off the bed with a groan and heads to the bathroom. 

Frankie follows you to the shopping mall that still houses the kitchen, although the FEDRA HQ has left and moved into a warehouse area that had been unharmed in the bombing. The warehouses had been converted into barracks, storage units, and holding cells. The latter more frequently in use than ever as FEDRA cracked down with increasing force on any civil unrest in the wake of ration cuts and stifling control over the population of the QZ. 

Outside the entrance to the mall you wrap your arms around Frankie’s neck and pull him close, leaning your forehead against his. 

“Be careful and come home to me,” you whisper, the same thing you always say to him before he leaves. He nods and kisses you before pulling away. 

“I love you, stay safe, hermosa.” 

“I love you too, stay safe, Frankie.” 

When you step into the mall there’s more people than usual around, and most of them seem to be gathered at the FEDRA notice board on one side of the large area. 

“What’s going on?” you ask Kim, one of your co-workers who’s standing on the edge of the crowd. 

“They’ve cut the number of ration cards they’re paying again, and coffee is no longer available with cards, neither is powdered milk. And they’ve cut the cooking oil ration in half,” she shakes her head and adds in a low voice. “People are gonna get pissed, especially about the coffee, everyone knows coffee is still served at FEDRA HQ every day.”

Another one of your co-workers, a young man called Peter, pushes through the crowd and joins you. “C’mon, let's get to the kitchen,” he says and grabs Kim by the arm, pulling her along and jerking his head for you to follow.  “What’s going on, Pete?” you ask but he doesn’t reply, until the door into the kitchen’s changing room has closed behind you. 

“They’re banning congregating, no groups larger than two people are to meet anywhere except if you’re in a family, starting tomorrow,” he says, shrugging off his coat. 

“How are they even going to enforce that? There’s six of us in the kitchen alone, everyone works in groups larger than two. Are they going to have guards everywhere?” you ask incredulously. 

“I don’t know, but the notice said anyone reporting on illegal congregation or ‘disruptive conversations’ will be rewarded with extra ration cards.” 

“So they’re trying to make people tell on each other,” Kim says, her voice grim, “they really are fucking facists.” 

“That’s not the worst of it,” Peter adds, “from tomorrow, the curfew five pm unless you have a special pass from FEDRA, if you’re on a late shift. And being caught outside after curfew puts you in lock up for a month, and then you’re assigned to the FEDRA work detail.” 

The FEDRA work detail was made to do all the jobs no one else wanted, disposing of bodies, sewage sweeps and cleaning, or assigned to the most dangerous jobs, like clearing the area around the QZ of infected on a regular basis. If you volunteered for them it paid well, if you were assigned to it as a convict, it paid nothing. Those people lived at the FEDRA lock-up and lived off basic rations for the term of their incarceration. There was no court system so the length of the stay was arbitrary, most didn’t survive long enough to see the end of their term. 

“They’re going to have riots on their hands soon,” you said, putting away your jacket and bag in a locker. “Between ration cuts and the ban on trading clothes and shoes, not even being able to meet with friends is going to push things over the edge.” 

Peter and Kim nod as the three of you make your way into the kitchen for your shift. 

You run into Benny as you get back to the apartment block that evening. He’s still with FEDRA, sharing an apartment with Hannah two floors above Frankie and you. Today’s the first time you’ve seen him in a few days, he’s been away on assignment and it’s good to see him back and safe. It looks as if he’s had time to shower and he’s just returning with a bag of groceries, holding up the door for you after you give him a hug. It’s almost funny, before the outbreak, you wouldn’t necessarily have hugged Benny or Pope every time you saw them. But now, with the ever present risk of each goodbye being the very last, you always hug them when you see them again. It’s also why you always tell Frankie you love him and to come home to you, when he leaves. You’re well aware that he might not come home, you push that thought to the back of your mind as often as you can, but you don’t want your last words to him be something mundane like ‘see you later, babe.” 

“Do you and Frankie wanna come up for dinner tonight,” Benny asks as you make your way up the stairs with him. “Hannah won’t be back until late but I need to talk to Pope and Frankie.” 

“They’re working on the far side of the QZ today, I’m not sure when they’ll be back,” you tell him, “but if they’re back in time for dinner we’d love to come up.” You’re pretty sure Benny knows exactly what Pope and Frankie does, how they supplement the ration cards they make doing odd jobs for FEDRA, but it’s never been acknowledged so you keep it vague. 

Benny nods and pauses on your landing, “Come up when you can, they can join us when they’re back,” he says, “I was given a nice bottle of whiskey by a guy today, I saved his ass a couple of days ago, guess he was feeling grateful.” 

“Sure, let me just shower and change and I’ll be right up,” you reply, giving Benny a wave. 

A short, and cold, shower later you’ve changed and left a note for Frankie that you’re at Benny’s place. He lets you in when you knock on the door two floors up. You’ve brought some leftover arepas from last night, corn flour is one of the crops not affected by the cordyceps fungus and is now a staple in the QZ. . 

“I miss bread so much,” you grumble as you hand the arepas to Benny, and he nods. 

“I’d kill for a grilled cheese,” he nods and your mouth waters at the thought of it. 

“And pizza,” you drool and Benny groans. 

“Don’t, don't make me think of pizza. That I really would kill for!” 

There were attempts at growing wheat crops that weren’t susceptible to the cordyceps fungus, but so far the batches produced were too small. And tending the fields was dangerous work when they weren’t fenced off. And you needed a lot of fence to fence off whole fields. But FEDRA often informed the public of encouraging news like these to keep morale up, and it was needed. Almost six years into the outbreak, morale was at an all time low and falling. There were still reports of vaccine research but so far there wasn’t even a way to slow down the infection once someone was bit and you remained skeptical to all reports of a vaccine. 

Benny pours you a generous measure of the whiskey and you laugh as you see the four fingers in your glass. 

“Trying to get me drunk, Benny?” 

“Na, if I remember correctly, tequila is your poison,” Benny chuckles and pours himself an equally large glass.

“I’m never drinking tequila again, even if you do find a bottle,” you grin. “Did Frankie tell you that’s how I blurted out that I love him the first time? Way too drunk for that kind of honesty.” 

“No, he never told me about that,” Benny turns down the heat on the stew simmering on the stove and sinks down onto the couch, you curl up in the opposite corner with your drink.

“It was that time I accidentally asked you if you were any good in bed,” you laugh and Benny grins. 

“I vaguely remember, I was pretty drunk myself that night,” he chuckles and sips the whiskey.

“Did you ever manage to hook up with that blonde you were trying to make me help you with?” 

“No, but I went home with her friend instead,” Benny gives you a wicked grin and raises his glass to you in a toast across the sofa.

“Of course you did,” you snort, toasting him back. 

“So you told Fish you love him while drunk on tequila?” Benny asks when he puts his glass down. “I always thought he was the first to crack and declared his undying devotion to you on your second date.” He’s grinning and you lean across and slap his arm.

“Be nice, Benjamin,” you chuckle before leaning back, “I think we were both pretty nervous about saying it, Frankie has so much baggage and I had a pretty shitty relationship behind me too. So while drunk on tequila I told him, while we were still at that bar, he took it well though, thank god.” 

“He was crazy about you from the first night,” Benny smiles at you, “I’ve never seen him so relaxed around someone he was dating as he did that time you guys ran into me and Will at breakfast, remember?” 

“Vividly,” you laugh, “Frankie might’ve been relaxed around me, but he was not happy you guys were there.”

“Was that a breakfast date or had you just…?” Benny shoots you another wicked grin and you have to lean over and slap his arm again. “I’m just asking,” he laughs, swatting your hand away, “Frankie did look very pleased, if you know what I mean.” 

You roll your eyes at him but can’t help but laugh, Benny was right on the money of course, that was the morning Frankie had proved he could make you come four times in short succession, turning your legs to jelly in the process. 

“What do you think, Benjamin?” you snigger and he tilts his head back and laughs out loud. 

“I fucking knew it!” 

“It was almost seven years ago, Ben, why do you even care?” you giggle, Benny has an infectious laugh and it’s impossible to be offended by his question. 

“Because I like being right, even if I had to wait seven years to confirm it,” he raises his almost empty glass to you in another toast. “To Catfish, and his enormous dick.”

You’ve raised your glass but almost drop it as you gasp with laughter, doubling over on the couch. “You are the fucking worst, Ben!” 

“Hey, I’ve been in enough changing rooms with Fish to know he’s packing some serious business, I’m just happy you get to enjoy it.” Benny’s laughing almost as hard as you are and neither of you hear the knock on the door. 

“Look at you two, getting drunk on a Tuesday evening,” Pope snorts as he looks in on the two of you on the couch from Benny’s front door. Frankie’s standing behind him, smiling at you. 

“Hey guys!” Benny calls, “We’re just reminiscing about some serious business,” he waves his drink in your direction with a grin, “C’mon in and join us, we’re sharing aaaaaall the stories.” You start giggling again, the whiskey has gone straight to your head and you feel all fuzzy around the edges, and even more relaxed now that Frankie is home safe. He pulls off his boots and sinks down behind you on the couch, kissing your cheek from behind as he pulls you into his chest. 

“Hermosa, did you let Benny get you drunk?” he smiles, the cool tip of his nose skating across your skin as you lean back into him. 

“Only a little, just a little bit tipsy,” you say, “I have no tolerance for alcohol these days.” Frankie feels warm and solid behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist and you drop your head back onto his shoulder, turning your head so that you can breathe him in as you press your lips to his warm skin. 

“Oh, she’s so drunk,” you hear Pope chuckle from across the room. 

“She’s not drunk, she only had a glass of whiskey,” Benny says, getting up to heat up the stew for dinner.

“Did you pour the drink, cariño? Or did you let Benny serve you? Because I’ve seen the size of his servings.”

“It was a pretty big drink,” you admit, “but I didn’t finish it,” you wave your hand at the table where your glass still sits. 

“That glass is empty,” Pope says and you pull yourself up from Frankie and look down at the very empty glass.

“Oh, I guess I did drink it all,” you say, and drop your head back on Frankie’s shoulder while he chuckles, you can feel his chest vibrating under you. “Benny distracted me, we were talking about you and that time we had breakfast with him and Will.” 

“You guys had totally just done it,” you hear Benny giggle from the kitchen and Pope snorts, he’s heating up the arepas, the smell of toasted corn starting to spread through the apartment. 

“Benjamin,” Frankie sighs from behind you, “don’t make me smack you.” 

“I’d like to see you try, Morales,” Benny challenges with a grin, raising his fists like a boxing champ, “Actually, I’d use your girl as a stand in, she’s lethal these days.” Benny adds and you smile at him. Praise from Benny on your fighting skills was rare and didn’t come easy. He was a tough teacher but he’d been drilling you every week since your gunshot wound had healed, taking his assignment from Frankie seriously. These days you felt fairly certain there were few people in the QZ who’d be able to take you in a fight, with the exception of Benny, and maybe Frankie and Pope. Benny didn’t even pull his punches with you any more, and he was finding it harder and harder to actually get a hit in without going into full combat mode. 

“Alright, dinner’s ready, c’mon on over,” Ben says, turning off the stove, and Frankie pulls you to your feet. 

“Let’s get some dinner into you, ‘not drunk girl’,” he smiles as you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes and bumping your nose to his. 

“I didn’t tell him how you made me come four times that morning,” you whisper and to your delight, Frankie’s ears turn pink as a blush creeps up his throat. He quickly checks behind him to make sure Pope and Ben didn’t hear but they’re busy, before he turns back to you. 

“And I’ve beaten that record several times since,” he smirks, an unusually smug look on his face, as he drops a peck on your nose.

Benny’s stew is mostly beans and root vegetables, a few bits of rabbit to add some flavor. There’s a small rabbit farm in the QZ, set up in one of the parks, and despite the rabbit population being small, there was sometimes rabbit meat available with ration cards, especially if you were high up in FEDRA as Benny was.

Almost six years in FEDRA had seen Benny climb almost to the top, but still one rung under the final top layer. The man in charge of FEDRA was still the C.O. who had taken over shortly after you’d arrived in Arlington, an obnoxious scumbag named Cox. And for whatever reason, he detested Benny. Personally you thought it was because Benny was respected and liked by those who served under him, something Cox was not. And Benny wasn’t one to suck up to the higher ups just to get a promotion, you had to earn his respect. Cox was a weak leader, surrounding himself with ‘yes men’ by giving them special privileges and collecting favors. Benny refused to play his game so he was stuck as patrol leader with few advantages despite being one of the longest serving soldiers in FEDRA. 

As it turned out, this was the reason Benny wanted to talk to Pope and Frankie tonight. You felt yourself sobering up, helped by the food and the water Frankie had poured for you and at the end of the meal, you all returned to Benny’s couch, the men with whiskies in their hands, you with a coffee. 

“How did the smuggling run go today?” Ben asks, looking at Pope, who all but sputters into his drink. He throws a quick glance at Frankie who looks equally flustered before he looks back at Ben. 

“Ben, dude, I don’t know….”

“Cut the bullshit, Pope, I’m not blind.” Ben leans back on the couch and puts his feet up on the low table. “I know you and Frankie have been smuggling for years. And I want in.” 

You could’ve knocked Frankie and Pope over with a couple of feathers, they exchange another glance and Pope slowly puts his glass down on the table, “What do you want in on, Ben?” 

“Listen, Cox is being worse than ever. The lack of supplies means he’s got less to pay his inner circle of cronies, who keep him in charge. So to compensate, he’s cutting the rations for everyone, FEDRA soldiers too.” 

“Why is Arlington so low on supplies?” you ask. “From what we hear, other QZ’s are doing alright, no ration cuts and none of this bullshit about stopping people from meeting and hanging out.” 

“Because Cox knows he needs his supporters happy if he’s to stay in power,” Benny says, “and he’s having to give them more and more supplies.” 

The inner circle around Cox, the ‘yes men’, are all intimidating, grim looking men, quick to anger and quick to use violence to get their way. The inhabitants of the QZ fear them and the arbitrary punishment they deal out. That fear keeps Cox in power, no one challenges him, not even the soldiers. You’d asked Benny about it a couple of times and he was certain Cox would order him on a suicide mission the second he sensed that Benny was challenging his power. And with Hannah to look after, he wasn’t prepared to risk it, so he kept his head down and was passed over for promotion. But now he was prepared to risk getting involved in smuggling, things must be bad, you thought. 

“I can supply you guys with information,” Ben says, looking at Pope and then Frankie when neither of them say anything. “I know the patrol routes, the times, and I see all the reports of supplies that are found. With my intel you could even hit some of the supply caches outside the QZ.” 

Frankie, always the quiet one, who thinks before he speaks, looks over at Pope with raised eyebrows, questioning him. He shrugs his shoulders and looks over at Ben, “I’m not gonna pretend your help wouldn’t be very useful, man.” Pope leans forward, elbows on his knees, looking up at Ben under his eyebrows, “But if you get caught, or Cox catches wind of you helping smugglers, you’ll be out of FEDRA and he’ll probably put you on FEDRA work detail if he can, proof or no proof.” 

“I’d like to see him try,” Benny growls, leaning forward to match Pope’s position. “This situation with Cox is going to blow up, sooner or later. And I don’t mean that I’ll lose my temper and punch him. The QZ is going to blow up, people were already unhappy, and with these new regulations…” Benny’s voice trails off as he mimics a bomb going off. 

“People at the kitchen were not happy about the new rules,” you say, “with FEDRA trying to get people to snitch on each other, it really feels like it’s turning into a police state.” 

Benny nods, “Things are brewing, and Cox is petrified, hence the new rules, but he just made things worse. And if things do blow up, I wanna be on the right side, and that side won’t be FEDRA.” 

“Ok,” Pope says, “if you want in, Benny, I’m fine with that, of course,” Frankie nods in agreement as Pope continues. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re risking.” 

“I know, don’t worry about it.” Benny replies, “And I’ll get you as much info as possible but eventually I have to leave FEDRA, and then I wanna join you outside the wall too.” 

You’ve been listening to the exchange with growing unease, it had always felt like Benny being in FEDRA gave both you and the guys an extra layer of protection, if something went wrong. But with Benny talking about how the QZ might erupt into violence and him leaving FEDRA made you nervous. Life was hard enough without having to worry about FEDRA’s unjust rules and on top of it all, with Pope, Frankie and now Benny, involved in smuggling, you feel like you were the only one not helping out. Just continuing to work for FEDRA in feeding the soldiers and bringing in less and less ration cards. 

“Maybe there’s something I can help with too,” you say, “like be a look out for when you guys come and go.” Frankie is sitting next to you and even before you’ve finished the sentence you can see him shaking his head but you ignore him and look at Pope, “Santi, you’ve said a couple of times you’ve had close calls because you had no early warning of patrols, maybe I could help with that?” Pope opens his mouth to answer but Frankie cuts him off, “No, I’m not letting you get involved with smuggling, cariño,” his hand is around your wrist and he’s squeezing it gently to get your attention, his eyes suddenly anxious. “I wouldn’t be able to focus on what we’re doing if I know you’re out there too, I need to know you’re safe so that I can concentrate.” 

“She’d be safe, Fish,” Pope interjects, “She’d be in one of our look outs inside the wall, just keeping an eye out fo-.” Frankie gives Pope such a dark look, it cuts him off and Frankie turns back to you. 

“I know you want to help, but I can’t let you, please, cariño, you’ve got to understand that.” 

You put your hand over Frankie’s and nod, “Ok, I understand Frankie, I won’t push it.” You see his eyes soften as he puts his hand on your cheek. 

“Thank you, hermosa.” 

The front door opens and Hannah walks in, looking tired and annoyed, just returning from her evening shift at the kitchen. You often worked the same shifts but recently they hadn’t been overlapping. 

You all greet her as she slumps down into the couch next to Santi and he gives her a hug, her head dropping onto his shoulder with a big yawn. 

“Let me get you some dinner,” Benny says and gets up, “Do you want a whiskey too? I got some good stuff today.” 

“A tiny, tiny one, thanks Ben,” she says, and twists her back around, stretching out her sore muscles. 

“Come here, hermana, let me help,” Santi says and makes her shift so that he’s behind her and can dig his thumbs into her shoulders, rubbing over the knots. Hannah sighs and drops her head forward as his thumbs work their way across her back. 

“Thanks, that feels amazing.” 

“Tough shift, you’re back kinda late?” you ask, used to how exhausting the evening shifts can be in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t late because of the shift,” she replies. “You guys heard about the new curfew?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not in effect until tomorrow,” Ben says, coming back in and putting a bowl of stew on the table alongside a fairly large whiskey. 

“Tell that to Cox’s guys,” she scoffs. “They stopped a bunch of us coming back from the kitchen and demanded to see our permits and then threatened to throw us in lock up when none of us had any. I told them that’s only from tomorrow!” You see her eyes flash with anger and Santi taps her shoulders to make her relax again. “One guy, Peter, you know him,” Hannah looks over at you and you nod, you’d talked to him only this morning, “he told them they had no right stopping us now, that they were out of line and they grabbed him and started beating him up!” 

“What?” Benny spits out, “I’m gonna fucking throw them in lock up!” 

“Is he ok, Hannah?” you ask and she shakes her head. “I don’t know, they took him in  for ‘disturbing the peace’, he was bleeding but not too badly. But the fucking nerve on them!”

“I’ll check on him tomorrow,” Ben growls, “make sure he’s ok and get him out of there.” 

“And they let the rest of you go?” Santi asks, his hand still rubbing her shoulders. 

“Yeah, I guess they got the action they wanted, beating some poor guy up,” Hannah sighs, rubbing her hand over her face before picking up the bowl of stew. 

Later that night, as Frankie crawls into bed next to you, he has a worried look on his face again. 

“I don’t like the sound of what’s happening in the QZ, with Cox and his guys,” he says, pulling the covers up over you both and propping himself up on his elbow so that he can look at you. “Please be careful, and maybe come straight back home after your shifts, unless you absolutely have to go somewhere else.” 

“I’ll be fine, Frankie, you know me. I always keep my head down and stay out of their way,” you cup his cheek, running your fingers over his scruffy beard and he gives you a crooked smile. 

“I know, but you know me too, I always worry about you.” 

He lets you pull him closer and you easily find his lips with yours, making him part them for your tongue as he sinks down next to you. You give him a soft peck before you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck, his arms finding their places around your waist and under your head. 

“Love you, Frankie,” you mumble, sleep pulling you under. 

“Love you to, hermosa,” he whispers close to your ear, pulling you a little bit tighter against himself. 

Of course it was Hannah that became the spark. Hannah, the high school teacher, who Will had fallen in love with and married because her heart was so firmly in the right place, who kept his head steady with her unwavering instinct to protect the weak and always sided with the troubled teens at her school. For as long as Will and the guys had known her, she’d taken in every stray she came across, cats, dogs, hedgehogs, birds, kids. If there was a small creature, lost or injured, Hannah would take it in and nurse it back to health. The running joke was of course that Will was one of her strays, lost after years in the military, finding a woman who saw past his hard core military persona and let him find peace with her. 

While you kept your head down and avoided the FEDRA soldiers, especially the ones you knew were close to Cox, Hannah couldn’t keep silent when she saw someone being treated badly. 

And that got her into trouble and ignited the QZ.

Chapter 23

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa

[gioiaalbanoart]

CHARACTER profile tag

Thanks to @wyked-ao3 here , @tragedycoded here , @the-golden-comet here and @saturnine-saturneight here

****

Ashley Knox from The scarred angel

Name: Ashley Knox

Nickname: None....for now. (Morales would call her Scarface but Morales is an asshole)

Kind of being: Human

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Appearance: As Amy sees her first time😎

.......Arctic blue eyes ......She's slender, definitely taller than me (Ashley is 175 cm Amy 160 ) , with almost platinum blond, shoulder-length, curly hair,pale skin, beautiful features

..........

Just then I notice the scars. One runs along her right cheek, from the cheekbone almost to the jawline.

An horizontal one cuts through her forehead following all the line above the eyebrows.

A third and smallest, almost a joke, mimics a slightly curbed smile on her left cheekbone.

Despite those scars, she’s still painfully beautiful to look at.

Occupation: Looking for troubles ....

Family members: Let's say orphan for the sake of it.....She might come up with a kind of adopted family / group of friends

Pets: None

Best friend: Amy

Describe their room: Can be the current car she's driving (she generally hotwires them ), motels, other people's houses...

It depends what she's up to.

Way of speaking: Deep rich low voice, kind of raspy (listen to this you'll have an idea)

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude) : Straight, kind of spares her gestures. Moves extremely fast when needed, in a run or a fight she strong and precise.

Her usual expression goes often from poker face to a "don't fuck with me" stare, generally she looks straight in your eyes if you don't avert yours. This is the first thing she doesn't do when dealing with criminals that might threat her life or others .... until she finds a spot and strikes.

Items in their back pocket/purse: At least a knife, possibly a gun, often a burner phone. Not sure if she has a backpack neither, she tends to find new clothes when needed and abandon them for new ones, it's not like she can do laundry really.

A part for her hiking combat boots, those she keeps them.

Hobbies: She likes to sing, reading and chill.

Favorite sports: Running and firing but she wouldn't call neither a sport.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: "Reads between the lines" especially when she thinks that people are concealing something or they're up to no good. Pair with sometimes seeing auras.

She's very good intuition and can pick up information on different levels.

Relationships (how they are with other people): Cold at first and it may stay that way since she's a lone wolf to start with.

She tends to be careful and keep an eye on people if not a complete guard up. If she thinks you're ok she might be friendly mainly when it's young or elderly people.

She has a personal moral code and she might get brutal with whom breaks it.

Fears: That people close to her might be hurt somehow....which unfortunately does happen.

Faults: She never looked beyond getting her own revenge even less to the possibility of having a "normal" life.

For one reason or another she considers that she doesn't fit anywhere and doesn't even try to because she thinks she won't last long so better not having people getting close. It's useless and it might hurt. Sometimes it translates with her acting like an ass.

Good points: On the opposite side if someone get past her walls she take care of them to the core and surpasses herself.

She's a survivor on a path of healing in hell...we'll see if and how much she can achieve on that.

What they want more than anything else: At some point she'll want very much being able to disappear far away with Amy.

She's not sure it will be possible.

[gaysindistress]

Sad girl - seventeen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass,, the feelings, talks of violence 

word count: 2.2k

part 16 | series masterlist

Taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman   @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @iateall-yourcookies  @littlelizardlizzie @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @goldensunflowe-r @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10​  @vickie5446 @katymae12344 @openup-yourmind

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

“Ok Steve I need you to either watch Bucky for me or go to the store,” her voice surprises the man as she basically corners him in the kitchen. 

“Can I say no?”

“Nope, so pick; Bucky or the store?”

Nat walks in to see the unhappy look on his face and a very adamant Doll, “Let me guess; she asked you to go shopping?”

“And I can’t say no.”

Cocking her head slightly with a raised eyebrow, “Better you than me.”

“Actually you both can go! That way nothing gets missed and it’ll be faster,” the excitement is only shared by her as she’s now roped in both Steve and Nat. 

  Nat lets out an annoyed groan as she approaches the two and snatches the list from the other woman, “Where do we need to go?” Smiling widely, she happily tells them that they need to go to Whole Foods and a fish market to get the ingredients for the dinner she has planned. The two look at each other with the same amount of annoyance but nod their heads in acknowledgment. 

“Thank you, thank you!” she exclaims, planting kisses on both of their cheeks before leaving them. 

“How much do you want to bet that this isn’t the last time we get sent on errands for her?”

“I don’t think she’s going to send us out again but she will definitely ask one of us to come with her,” Nat answers as they head out of the house. 

Upstairs Doll had started reading her book as Bucky was taking a shower. She had only agreed to let him take one alone if he kept the door open just in case anything happened and she needed to rush in. 

“If you want to join me, all you have to do is ask,” the teasing tone in his voice causes her to purse her lips. 

“No I just don’t trust how loopy you are on these pain meds,” she retorts back as she goes to read her book again. 

He only smirks at her as he disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he ‘forgot’ to bring clothes, so he has to walk through the room with only a towel tied low on his waist. Her eyes briefly look up at him and she has to do a double take at the sight of water dripping down his chest and his short hair glistening. The sound of him clearing his throat breaks her trance and heat floods to her cheeks as she tries to shrink behind her book. 

“See something you like?” he chuckles at her reaction to him freshly out of the shower as he dips into the closet and remerges with black sweats that hang low on his hips and a shirt in his hands. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” comes from behind her book. 

“That’s why I asked,” he tugs on his shirt, wincing slightly at the movement. 

The wince has her dropping her book to make sure he’s okay. He is, of course, and goes back to being a teasing asshole as he wears a shit-eating grin. Her phone buzzes before she can send a smartass remark back. 

“Everything’s in the kitchen. Steve is demanding he gets a plate in exchange for running your errand,” is the text that Nat had sent her. 

The bed shifts as Bucky sits next to her legs. He takes the book and the phone from her hands so she has to answer him. This earns him a confused look which quickly fades to one of surprise as he sets the items down and pushes her legs apart to sit in between them. 

“Oh no, no, no. I know what you’re doing and it’s not happening until your arm is healed,” she tries to tell him as she gently pushes him away. 

“Doll, it's okay. My arm is fine. In fact, I think it would be good for me if we had sex.”

“In what world would having sex be good for the healing of an injury?”

“This world,” with his lips descending on her neck as he fully slots in between her legs, hips meeting hers, “If it makes you feel better, you can ride me.”

“Bucky,” she moans out as he nips at a sensitive spot, “I don’t want to hurt you. Please.”

His lips stop and he raises his head from her shoulder to look at her, “You won’t, Doll. It was just a graze. 

“It was embedded in your arm. You were in the ICU for a week,” she states plainly. 

“Same thing but I’ll respect your no,” he kisses her nose before getting off of her. 

She throws her head back against the headboard and lets out a loud sigh, “If you can make it through the whole day without wincing or being in pain, then we can.”

He grabs her hands to help her off the bed, “I’ll agree to that.”

She scrunches her nose at him and smiles before moving past him, “I’m going downstairs to start dinner. You can come to be my eye candy if you’d like.”

She doesn’t need a verbal response because his eager footsteps behind her tell her he’s more than happy to do so. 

The kitchen is filled with various aromas from her cooking and laughter from their conversation. True to her word, it’s not a date so she’s wearing cream rib-knit pants and his army sweatshirt. It killed her to not dress up for their first date but she promised him that it couldn’t count until they were out at a restaurant. 

“What exactly are you making?” 

“ Risotto with scallops.” 

“Seems a little fancy.” 

She stops stirring the risotto, “are you complaining?” 

“Me?” He puts his hand on his chest in a fake offense, “how could I complain when I have a beautiful woman making me a high-class dinner?” 

“It’s hardly high class.” 

He hops off the counter and grabs her by the hips from behind, “It’s better than what I would’ve made.” 

“And what would that have been?” 

“You’ll have to wait and see.” 

She turns around in his grasp and changes the subject, “How’s your arm?” 

Moving his arm around slightly he answers “Better, still a little sore.” 

Humming in response, she returns to her cooking, half expecting him to jump up on the counter again. Since the hospital, they’ve been more affectionate towards each other, a complete 180 from when they first met. It’s not a surprise when he doesn’t move and instead hugs her from behind to watch her cook. Sometimes their behavior ignores the fact that all of this was arranged and might lead one to think it was real. 

Regardless it’s becoming real to them as she starts asking him a series of random questions. She starts out with ‘what’s your favorite color’ and eventually lands with ‘what’s your sleeve about’ as they are still next to each other on the island, her perfectly cooked meal finished. 

“It started out as something for my mom and just turned into a sleeve,” he explains in between bites, “Doll this is really good. No wonder I married you.”

She clicks her tongue at his joke, “And here I thought it was my stunning good looks.”

“Would you ever get my portrait?”

The question pauses his eating and he takes a moment to think about her question. Would he add her to his sleeve? In theory yes because she is his wife and someone very important to him which is really the only prerequisite to making it on his arm. The real question is would she want him to?

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I think so,” her hand trails over his arm, and the various portraits inked into his arm, “you don’t have any room though so I guess not.”

“If that’s something you want, I’d find room.”

“Where?”

“On my chest.”

“Your chest?”

“That is what I just said,” he gives her a very blank look as he restates what he’d said. 

Dropping her hand, she huffs a little upset he’s so blunt, “I know what you said. It just surprised me.”

The upset is clear on her face and it breaks his heart. He can be a smooth talker when he needs to be; however, in moments like this, that ability slips away and he’s left fumbling over his words. 

“Doll, I didn't mean it like that. It just seemed so obvious to me because you mean so much that it only seems right to have you on my chest forever.”

“You’d want me over your heart?” her voice is small with insecurity that she hasn’t felt in years. 

“Of course, you are my heart,” he grips her hand in his and squeezes it. 

She lets out a small giggle when he launches himself at her to cover her in a flurry of kisses and ‘I love you. Just as she’s about to kiss him back, her phone pings next to her plate.  Picking it up with Bucky still covering her in little kisses, her face drops and pales when she reads the message. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he stops his attack and awaits her response. 

“It’s Walker. He sent me a number and said that if I want to talk to my mom, then I could call her.”

“Are you going to?”

“Well no shit,” she quickly clicks on the number, still holding Bucky’s hand, “Hello? Mom?”

“Hey baby,” her mom’s voice comes through the other end. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? Where are you? Are you safe?” the questions leave her mouth frantically as tears start to fall. 

“I’m okay, I’m safe. John is so sweet and kind, I really don’t understand why you broke up with him.”

“Mom, where are you? We’ll come to get you.”

“No no, don’t come to get me. I’m perfectly fine here. He’s helping me get clean so I can see you again.”

“You are not safe. We need to come to get you right now,” she tries to push her mom, “He’s going to hurt you if we don’t get you out now.”

Her mom stops her by harshly saying her name, “Stop. He’s not going to hurt me. I can leave whenever I want. God, you’ve spent too much time with your father, you’ve become bossy like him.”

She takes in a shaky breath at her mom’s words, “Excuse me? You abandoned me. I thought you were dead for ten years.”

“That’s his fault, not mine. I tried to come back but he wouldn’t let me.”

“I don’t believe you,” she scoffs. 

“Believe whatever you. You’re just like him. Goodbye.” 

The end tone rings throughout the kitchen as she starts to cry even harder. Bucky collects her into his chest as he’s done many times before. Whispering reassuring words in her hair and rubbing her back as she cries, Bucky decides that this is the last time that John Walker will hurt his girl again. 

His office had become a place of comfort and safety for him now that Doll had spent time there. The memories of her lounging on his leather couches, working on her computer as he did the same filled his mind. The calming memories were going to be much needed given the nature of this meeting. Steve and Sam are sitting in the chairs in front of his desk while he rubs his jaw at their proposal. 

“We could get Anthony involved but I don’t see that going well,” Sam says.

“He’s not going to do anything,” Steve adds, “If you really want to do this, then your best choice is just to take him out and be done. He’s not going to take well to light harassing or a few broken bones.”

The thought of killing John has crossed his mind several times but the cleaning and cover-up would be too much work. However, his increasing boldness is becoming an issue and killing him might come back on the table. 

“Can we get Marianne out without her getting hurt?”

“Only if you take out John first. He’s always within eyesight of her,” Sam’s answer is not one he wants to hear. 

“We can’t go in guns blazing,” Steve is interrupted by Bucky. 

“We lure him out.”

“How?”

“Promise him a meeting with the one person he wants. He won’t be able to say no.”

The two men’s eyes widened in shock at his suggestion. 

“You’re seriously suggesting that we use my wife as bait?”

“We use the idea of her as bait. She won’t be anywhere near when it goes down. Nat will stay with her to make sure she’s safe. Steve and I will meet with John and Sam will go in to get Marianne.”

Sam shakes his head in disbelief, “That’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Please,” Bucky leans back in his chair, arms resting on the chair’s arms, “Enlighten me if you have any better ideas.”

“We get Anthony involved like I said before. He sets up the meeting at his estate, it’ll seem less suspicious that way and we’ll have the help of Anthony’s men. Doll will stay here with Nat like you said while Steve and I go in after Marianne,” Sam explains. 

Bucky looks at Steve, “What do you think?”

“It could work.”

Bucky pulls out his phone as he nods in agreement, “Anthony I need a favor.”

[midnightsmusings]

Second chapter yay! Read it..I'm begging on my hands and knees fr

Simon organizes the tea cabinet to calm down from the sudden realization their secluded retirement isn't so secluded. Soap enjoys tf out of some cobbler. That's it that's the chapter.

-Chapter 2: Together

"It's just irresponsible Johnny, she should be wary of us, not bringing over fuckn baked shit"

Simon grumbles, glaring at the man as he takes another heaping forkful of the cobbler their supposed neighbor brought over.

Realistically Simon knew he wasn't upset about her bringing something over, or that he truly thought they were men to be wary of anymore. What with their combined past injuries she could probably get the jump on them now. Just the shock of someone living so close by jolted him, made his skin crawl.

"Aye but good baked shit Si" Johnny says through a mouthful, humming as he offers a fork out to the man, rolling his eyes when he doesn't take it. Johnny stands, crossing the room and running his hands up Simon's scarred arms trying in his own way to sooth him.

"Just a neighbor bein friendly, said she's the only oone around for miles" Johnny says, voice low as he tilts his chin up, pressing a kiss to Simon's masked covered lips, long since used to not feeling skin on skin contact.

Simon signs, tugging the surgical mask off that he hastily threw on when they heard the knock. His face fell into Johnny's neck with one last grumble, arms caging in the shorter man, hand brushing over the gun Johnny shoved into the back of his jeans when he deemed her not a threat.

"Was supposed to be secluded, why I picked it" he mutters, voice muffled in Johnny's neck, grunting when he feels him laugh in his hold.

"You picked it because you liked the deck and ah ken it" Johnny teases, hands running though Simon's hair now, gently untangling the blond strands.

They stand silent for a moment, Johnny knowing Simon needs some time to work through this abrupt change. They both were still adjusting to retirement, Simon taking it harder than his partner. They figured a secluded house would allow for more leeway, and this neighbor to their seclusion is a variable they didn't plan for.

"Wanna organize the tea cabinet?" Johnny asks finally, tugging Simon's face from the crook of his neck, the man still grumbling but nodding his silent agreement to the distraction.

Johnny watched as he heads towards the lone kitchen box. There were about 6 boxes total, few personal items and some basic kitchen supplies, but most were boxes of Johnny's clothing. They didn't have much else and haven't discussed shopping. He figures that conversation can wait for another time.

"Am I overreacting love?" Simon asks, flicking open his pocket knife and slicing the box open without looking, eyes trained on Johnny as he hopped up on the counter next to him.

This was a new thing Simon's started asking. It was easy to control his reactions in the field, knew exactly how to react and when. But in this retired, civilian life he felt lost. Used to reacting seamlessly to betrayals and gunshot wounds, not slow drivers and busy checkout lines.

Johnny hummed, eyes tracing over Simon's face, the sight still sending tingles down his spine even after years of being trusted with seeing it whenever they were alone.

"Maybe, ah dinnae ken Si" he sighs, perched on the counter as he watches Simon pull out the boxes and tins of tea. He started silently stacking them in the above cabinet, meticulously shifting them around as more were unloaded. Organizing his favorites in front Johnny fondly realized. The decorated metal tins of the more expensive leaves. He first bought them for Simon and the man took a liking to the taste quickly, not one to normally splurge on himself.

"She seems harmless and nervous to boot" Johnny continues, tilting his head a bit as he thought about his interaction with the woman, wanting to truly quell his partner's worries. She was fidgety, but not in a way that made him think she was hiding anything. She seemed genuine, the baked good carefully made and packaged.

Remembering something Johnny reached over and tugged the note off the container lid, waving it infront of Simon's face with a teasing grin.

"Lass even drew a smiley face" he chuckled, watching as Simon snatched the note with a sigh, looking down at it.

"Suppose that means she's alright eh?" he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the loopy cursive handwriting and the smiley face staring back at him. He slapped the note back on the counter, a tight feeling blooming in his chest.

"And quite bonnie too" Johnny continued, pushing the man, teasing smile curling into a smirk as his fingers danced across Simon's tense shoulders.

Simon tuned, holding his pocket knife out with a raised eyebrow "don't push it MacTavish" he growled, tone playful yet full of warning. Simon realized, now that they had the woman as a neighbor, his partner was going to be obnoxious about her. He bets they'll be scheming against him by the end of the week knowing Johnny's charm.

"On second thought, let's move" Simon says, at the thought, turning and moving to pack the tea boxes back up. He grumbled as Johnny hastily hopped off the counter and tugged his arm away, shaking him a little in the process for good measure.

"Calm doon you bampot" Johnny scolded, accent getting thicker as he sees the resolve to move in Simon's eyes. He sends a solid punch into Simon's shoulder that the larger man barely felt, hand softening from the fist and moving to gently squeeze his bicep. Watching as Simon clenched his jaw and stubbornly stared at the open door of the cabinet.

"She's a wee hen so far, and if she becomes a problem...we'll deal with it like we always do aye? Together" Johnny says, tone softer now as he looks up at Simon, hand squeezing the man's bicep harder as he still refuses to look at him.

"Sure Johnny, together" Simon relents, eyes finally sliding from the cabinet and looking down at him, Johnny's signature wide puppy dog eyes making his resolve crumble completely.

He just simply presses a kiss to his forehead with a sigh, cursing himself for never having the strength to say no to the man.

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

🛡️💼🩷🍨 for Remidee (and/or Alexandria)?

🛡️ (Shield) - Which Clash role would your OC pick - Sword Hero, Hammer Lord, Beam Mage, or Doctor Healmore?

Alexandria is the type who would look at what the team needs at that present moment and adapt to any role that's needed of her. i can see her doing well with hammer lord though, for reasons you'll see in the 🩷 question below

💼 (Bag) - Inventory check! What items does your OC typically carry around with them? What do they carry them in?

Remidee keeps lots of bandages and basic ointments on them, as well as some other medical supplies like butterfly stitches, gauze, pain medication, yadayada all that stuff--they're basically a walking first aid kit.

i still maintain they're an apothecary, meaning they only make medicine once someone's already been taken care of by an actual doctor and given a prescription, but no one in dreamland actually knows the goddamn difference between apothecary and Doctor so people end up stopping them and asking them to do doctor things pretty often, to which they reluctantly have also picked up that role as well for a variety of reasons

other than the medical supplies, they're a pretty well-prepared person in general, but they often travel light because they don't go too far from the castle

🩷 (Pink Heart) - If they were a Dream Friend, what would their moveset be like? How much HP do they have? Would they be a strong attacker, or would they take on more of a support role?

remidee is quite weak all around with lower hp as a waddle dee, low attack power, and not very great range. they'd probably be a bit faster and more nimble than the regular spear copy ability though. their main thing is their ability to heal, so i think they'd be a pretty good asset in arena runs actually. terrible otherwise

alexandria, on the other side of the spectrum, is an extremely skilled fighter who knows the value of not showing your cards until you absolutely need to. apart from her skill with her katars, she specializes in some nebula-like attacks. i didn't draw it, but i imagine she has something like the hollow knight dash slash as well

[that-house]

Hi ! I was wondering something about your 216-position D&D module : would having a negative CON modifier invert the HP restoration mechanic, and "reward" the player for a very mobile style ?

Combining a lot of running around with aggressive postures (maybe going so far as to taunt ?), with the main tradeoff being low maximum health and dying slowly when cornered/without momentum ? That’d make an interesting berserker but gaining health every 5-feet is a problem for long distances (unless you specify it’s 5 feet towards the enemy)

This was designed for a table where the magic items say things like “pick one of your abilities and increase every number in its text by 1,” not for 5e games with delusions of balance or reason. My DM allows just about anything, and just makes the encounters nightmarishly hard proportional to the shit we pull

Frankly this thing isn’t a “class” or a mechanic aimed at public release. It’s designed to be used with a single character and is so colossally broken as to likely be unnecessarily spotlight-hogging in a campaign full of broken homebrew characters. It’s complicated enough that I can’t really map out what “optimal play” looks like but I feel safe to say it can easily do 200+ damage in a single turn from level 1 onwards.

Making it any better or minmaxing the mechanic is not a concern of mine, the same way making it balanced isn’t really a concern of mine. One of the other Posture benefits does in fact heal you, so with the right stance setup you could heal 2x proficiency bonus every 5 feet you move even with a positive CON modifier. Which is crazy, sure, but literally who gives a shit

Odds are this thing never actually sees play, because to do so my current character would need to die, and her custom mechanics make her perhaps the single tankiest motherfucker to ever grace a 5e table. This thing is a sword of damocles hanging over my DMs head saying “kill her. i dare you” and the funny part is that i’m not sure if he can without killing everyone else first