#the idea of these went off the rails and spawned the whole idea of a relationship between them

[twelvetapsleft]

[formosusiniquis]

when you're fifteen

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise.

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Mike Wheeler WC: 4044 | Rated T | Tags/Themes: Good Babysitter Steve, Period Atypical Depictions of DnD, HoH!Steve, Disabled!Eddie Ao3

Eddie prided himself on his ability to manage a table. A forever DM, four years into a lifetime sentence, he can keep a story on track and, more importantly, keep tempers in check for hours at a time. 

He kept track of a thousand little details across notebooks, binders, and just trapped in his own brain. He knew everything about his NPCs, the world, his player’s characters, and the things that drove his players nuts. He had plans, backup plans, and vague ideas of shit he could do if things went completely and totally off the rails despite all of those plans. That was one of the things he held fast on his tongue the first time he failed senior year. Of course he didn’t pass. He’d taken on the mantle of Dungeon Master. He had to put together a story that took into account: Jeff’s high stakes backstory with the missing mother and bounty on his head, Gareth’s need to flirt with anything age appropriate that had a pulse, and Joey’s tactical mind when it comes to battle. Wasn’t it enough that he was going to class, he had to do shit at home about it too?

He didn’t like saying it. He liked to bitch about it a lot, actually. Eddie wasn’t really sure what he’d do with himself if he wasn’t The DM. It was like a core part of his identity.

It made the current situation he was in more world rocking than he really wanted to deal with.

He liked to think, if he couldn’t feel the remaining muscles in his side screaming in agony because he was sitting wrong -- or for too long or both -- and if his lower back wasn’t seizing and spasming for the same or maybe a brand new reason it had decided to come up with today, that he’d be able to manage this table just as well as he always had. Eight really wasn’t that different from three.

Except that combat is impossible to manage, each round took forever and that’s when everyone was paying attention. Except that there hasn’t been a satisfying story moment for Jeffrey the Jovial or Dustin’s Sir Rathington in the last four sessions. Except that Erica has been scribbling something in her notebook that probably wasn’t campaign notes since she hadn’t called him on the plot hole he caught session planning a month ago and hasn’t been able to fix -- and is more likely to have something to do with the way he noticed her looking at Uhura and Chapel when she was watching Star Trek reruns with Steve.

Except that Mike has been screaming at Dustin and Lucas for the better part of five minutes and Eddie really isn’t sure how to fix it.

“The plan is stupid. Did you even spend more than ten seconds thinking about it or did you decide that Will could just roll another character and we could save the resources.”

“Will could roll another character. It's not the first time he's rolled another character.” Lucas points out for what might be the third time, Eddie’s lost count.

“This whole thing is about resources, Mike.” Dustin snaps, “We’ll all be rolling new characters if we go into this stupid fucking fight while Gareth has no spell slots, Lucas is down to three arrows, Joey’s already used his second wind, and half the party is below half health.”

“It doesn’t matter, if we don’t go into the fight now Will is going to turn into some bloodsucking vampire spawn.”

Eddie knows this is the point that he should grab the reins again. He should prompt one of them to make a decision, or better yet, take the decision away from them entirely. But there’s a numbness in his thigh that has somehow spread to his mouth; it’s different from the pain the rest of his body is in, not really better or worse, and just as distracting. 

The rest of the table is quiet, boredom and annoyance plain on their faces. But they’ve also stopped looking to him to fix the problem. That’s the worst thing the Upside Down took from him, he thinks, even as his body is radiating pain from places he used to be able to forget he had.

“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Lucas points out. And it should be, but Lucas is a far better tactician than Eddie who already knows he won’t want to deal with the work it would take to do that well. “Y’know since you made all your weak spots pretty clear to Lord Ellias.”

“Or,” Dustin drawls out with a Harrington’s level of bitch and ire, “we could trust Eddie to turn this into a fucking story moment.”

“You guys are both so full of shit, just-” Mike has his nose curled and lip snarled, Eddie can feel the breeze of the blade swinging down to deliver the death blow to this campaign and adventuring party.

“Alright time to take a break.” Steve claps his hands, an angel come from on high to save Eddie. “Get up, get a snack, move your feet. Give my dining room some time to air out before it smells like nerd forever.”

Mike turns the full weight of his aggression on to Steve, who hopefully has a damage immunity or advantage on saves at the very least otherwise this is looking like a short talk, “We can't just take a break. Do you not get what the stakes are here? We've got to save-”

“Save someone who will still be in danger in twenty minutes.” Steve steamrolls over Mike’s argument with an unaffected ease. Eddie can feel the mood of the table lift just a bit, now that they’re about to be rescued.

“You just don't get it.”

“I get that it's pretend.” In a pre-Vencapocalypse world that would have been enough to get Eddie fighting on Little Wheeler’s side, but much as DnD is still his life. Fuck, it is all just pretend. “Go take a lap.”

“Ugh why do we even come over here. We could do this at my house without washed up jocks interrupting us.” Mike says but he gets up. Storming off to god knows where in the monstrosity of Steve’s house. Will, quiet as he always seems to get when he’s the center of one of these drag outs, trails off after Mike with an eye roll at the other two sophomores and an apologetic shrug for Steve.

And Eddie has his table again. Quiet and still, waiting for him to say something. Like there’s even anything to say when his very own Deus Ex Machina is leaving the room without so much as a backward glance at the poor schmucks he’s saved. “Well,” he says with a clap of his hands, “My blood sugar is dropping, so I’m going to shove as many of those cookies I smelled earlier into my mouth as I can in twenty minutes.” Because as much as they weren’t looking to him before, they need the DM to break the spell of the table. That’s how the whole thing goes.

And they scatter once it breaks. Eddie’s original Hellfire boys stay at the table, their ease at the Harrington house has been hardwon and the argument has rekindled something nerdy and skittish in them. Erica has headed off to the corner of the house Steve has let her claim as her own, nose still buried in her notebook. He doesn’t know where Lucas and Dustin are, but wherever they’ve gone they aren’t around to watch him struggle to pull himself out of his throne with his cane. He should just give in and let Steve raise the seat, half the problem is that it sits too low -- but knowing that and being willing to admit it at any point other than when he’s in PT levels of misery from pulling himself up are very different things.

Steve has his back to the door again, by the time Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. He has a bizarre semi-awareness of his surroundings that can be hard to predict. Sometimes it’s freaky how Steve can call out Dustin or Erica from a different room with an almost parental ‘eyes in the back of his head’ sixth sense. Other times his own soulmate can get the drop on him, managing to get her arms wrapped around his middle before he even realizes they’re in the same room.

It’s better to slam his cane against the floor a couple times. To let Steve feel the vibrations through the floorboards with his sock feet, that way nobody has to get hurt or feel guilty for doing the hurting.

Getting to see Steve’s grin bloom across his face as he flips that famous hair and catches sight of Eddie isn’t so bad either.

Next to Steve, it’s safe to prop his cane against the counter. He can rest his hips against the sure, solid surface and relax in the presence of his boyfriend while the blood returns to his limbs and a new kind of discomfort settles in. A hand, warm and sudsy finds the back of his neck. A strong thumb digging into a knot that had been there since at least last week with an erotic precision.

“You’ve got to stop letting them keep you in that chair for so long.”

"If we take breaks we'll just be here longer."

He shrugs, pulling his other hand from the dish water to pull Eddie into a gentle hold. "So be here longer."

"You'd get sick of the fighting. I'd get sick of the fighting." Actually it was probably better not to remind Steve of that. "You know I really did want one of those famous Stevie Henderson cookies."

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise. "I know the yelling is a lot, Sweetheart, I'm sorry. You don't have a migraine, do you? I can talk to him and make him chill out a bit." That last part is absolutely a lie; he doesn't think he could get Mike under control right now if he had a stun gun and half a pound of Argyle’s primo Cali weed.

Not that it matters Steve has on his scrunchy faced 'you're wrong about something,' look, Eddie just needs to give him the minute it'll take to get his thoughts together. "You know I love you right?"

“In this dimension and any others,” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles, feather soft, and runs a soothing hand through Eddie's hair the way he always does right before he says something atrociously bitchy. "I turn my hearing aids off the second you all start playing. If I had to listen to your game three different times, three different ways I'd drive my car into a portal."

He keeps going the way he does when he's afraid he's been too mean and wants to try to soften his edges for general consumption, like Eddie hadn't fallen in love with him the first time he called Dusin a butthead. "This way you and Dust can still use me as a sounding board for your plots and theories and I don't have to listen to my favorite nerds try to remember if 5+7 is 11 or 12."

“So what’s?”

“I’m worried about him!” Steve insists. Eddie might pride himself on his ability to handle a table, but he knows Steve is proud of his way with the kids. His relationship with each of them is rich and distinct, the way he handles each of them unique.

But it’s Mike.

Something must cross his face. He can only call it something, because he’s honestly not sure what emotion he’s feeling other than headache and how many cookies can I eat before they start tasting like nausea. But something else must have been there that causes Steve to cross his arms and glare.

“Yeah, of course, you’re worried about him. We are worried about him. Why are we worried about him, other than worried about what an asshole he’s been lately?”

That was not the right thing to say either, Eddie’s really rolling straight ones today. Steve’s glare shutters even further closed, and seriously it’s Mike. The same kid who called Steve a washed up jock not ten minutes ago. Who takes every single offered opportunity, and even some that he makes himself, to bitch and glare at Hawkins own #1 babysitter and monster hunter. 

“He’s a teenager with more trauma than a ‘Nam vet. But even if he weren’t he’s not an asshole for being barely fifteen and not knowing when to shut the hell up. Do you remember the kind of shit you were saying back then?”

Big brother Steve has successfully landed a critical hit. Eddie does remember the kind of shit he used to say. Just like he knows Steve remembers the kind of shit he used to say. And they both remember the shit that they used to say to one another. How Eddie called Steve a braindead future Reganite who wouldn’t know good taste if it spit in his mouth. How Steve had called Eddie a tryhard that was so desperate to be different because that was the only way he could hide having nothing to offer.

“So we’re worried?”

“I just don’t want him to say something he can’t walk back because he forgot the thing he’s getting upset over is pretend.” He runs a finger down Eddie’s splayed hands. A tickling sensation he can feel down the path it traces from the back of his palm and down his middle finger and, in a phantom mirror, down his spine. “I know you get into your characters, or whatever, I’m sure this is bringing up a lot of memories but he’s going to regret lashing out if it means he pushes away Dustin or Lucas or one of the other guys.”

“I notice you left out Will.”

“Yeah well, Will is more likely to get hurt by something he says when lashing out while they aren’t playing exposure therapy the game. I mean seriously, you had to kidnap him? That’s where your, ‘Stevie, baby, what should I do with them this week? They decided to do something stupid,’ bitching and moaning landed you?”

Eddie doesn’t even really have time to let himself feel the fluttery, squishy feeling he wants to feel -- cause Steve does actually listen when they’ve got their feet tangled on the sofa together, each working on their own things -- before it’s getting smacked by down by the paladin of his heart. “No, no, that isn’t where I landed. I had a perfectly acceptable diplomacy mission prepared, with a back up fight that they were supposed to run away from. What do you want me to do, Sunshine? I gotta give the game some stakes. It’s not exactly fun for Will if he knows he’s indestructible.”

Maybe, he thinks, he should just stop talking today. Just cancel the rest of the session entirely. Will gets carried off by the vampire spawn, half dead and unsaveable, the party on its last legs, unable to agree on a course of action; and actually that’s where we’re gonna end things come back next week and hope Steve even lets us in the house after the screaming we’ve all done. Why? Because he can feel every joint in his body and every one of them is in pain. Because there’s been the dull throb of a low grade headache beating an even pulse in his temples since he woke up this morning. But mostly because every time he opens his stupid fucking mouth to talk Steve stops touching him, and that sucks absolute balls.

“I maybe had an idea,” Steve says. His voice dips and slides while he keeps his hands small, quiet, and close to his chest. Something Robin told him, and he’s now noticing, means Steve has thought about this idea a lot, long enough that he’s convinced himself it’s bad. Eddie’s noticed that even when these ideas aren’t phrased well, they’re never bad.

“I know it’s like rule number one: don’t split the party,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes when he says it, an instinctive bit of brotherly mockery of Dustin, he would guess. “But what if you split the group a bit. Mike can go after Will, I’m sure Erica would be down to kill some vampires. She loves a chance to test drive her new feats and shit. Then Jeff and Dustin and whoever else can finish up that thing? With the missing girlfriend or whatever? And once that’s done they reunite to do whatever’s next on the list, save the kingdom.”

Eddie sits with that for a bit.

Impulsive is still his middle name, but sometime between being eaten alive by other dimensional hell creatures and getting a thousand and six tiny, itchy stitches removed he’s started giving things second and even third thoughts. Though in this case the second thoughts are less ‘is this a good idea’ and more ‘will Steve bend me over that solid oak dining table and critique my DM notes while he rails me.’

As his stomach swoops, his lower body twinges in a much less enjoyable way. Letting him know that now he’d been standing too long, or leaning against the counter the wrong way, or maybe something else entirely that made his legs tired of doing one of the few things they were made to do. 

Figures he finally lands a hot boyfriend and he's got chronic pain keeping him from getting his dick wet.

“If you’ve already got another idea-”

“No,” he rushes to assure Steve, who needs to stay confident in his own ideas for all kinds of reasons but right now mostly so he’ll be willing to play into this new fantasy of Eddie’s once his body is willing to cooperate with the standing and the bending it’s going to require. “No, it’s a fantastic idea. I’m plotting as we speak.” 

And that isn’t a total lie. Forever DM, he can think about all the fun ways the love of his life and reason he’s still living could degrade his current campaign -- An oath of vengeance paladin questing to save a lost love, isn’t that a little played out. Oh wow, rat swarms in a dungeon, they’re never gonna see that coming -- and figure out how to trick the group into thinking splitting the party was their own idea.

“How long,” he asks his resident child expert, “do you think it would take Will to roll up a new character?”

The smile that tips the corners of Steve’s face is the best part of his day. “Will always has an extra character rolled up with the rest of his stuff in his folder."

Things are slotting together in his head now, and as Steve's hands come around to do something magical in a spot on his back that probably has a name but mostly makes his legs feel like they should really belong to a baby deer.

“So Will…”

“Can convince Mike, and get a chance to try out the new thingy he built. He’s been waiting to talk to you about it.”

Eddie’s getting excited now, hands shaking in the good way. He doesn’t even care that his knee locks as he tries to bounce on his toes, just lets his hands get out the excited energy. “And the band can go do the story side plot shit I’ve been putting off…” 

“With Dustin,” Steve reminds, “cause he’ll want to go wherever there’s the best chance to stir up shit. You already know Erica is going to go where there’s a chance to prove she’s the best at fighting, Lucas too. Not the fighting thing. He’ll go to round out the group, and so his mom doesn’t have to worry about keeping track of one more thing on the family calendar.”

“You’re a genius, Sweetheart.” He snags Steve by the collar, ignoring his bitching that the two fingered pinch he’s got it in is going to stretch it out, and pulls him close. Pressing a kiss on the corner of his perfect boyfriend’s pleased little smile. “I gotta go talk to Will about this character.”

“Send Mike down when you do?”

He’s surprised when he gets no argument, barely gets acknowledgement, when he finds Will and Mike in the guest bathroom and separates them. Mike slips from the room with nothing but a backward glance at Will, who smiles supportively. Once he clears the room, it takes next to zero prompting to get Will to talk about his backup character. The ‘thingy’ he'd been working on a tricked out ranger build that's going to annihilate. 

There's something fresh, brightening, about Will's enthusiasm for the character that infects Eddie too. It gets him excited, for the first time since everyone arrived, to sit down around their over crowded table and play the hour of set up it's going to take to get the party ready to be split. 

And Will doesn't duck his head anymore when Eddie pushes at him and his DnD expertise, he just pushes back. Together they work out a couple tweaks that will make the build fit better in the party, flesh out a backstory that they can integrate even if it doesn't end up going anywhere, and it doesn't really feel like time passes at all. Until Sinclair is sticking his head through the door, surprise artfully hidden at who he finds, as he asks if they're ready to go.

Mike is conspicuously absent from the table when Eddie makes his way to it, and that won't do at all. He's not an asshole, he's just 15. Something like shame crawls up the back of his throat as Steve's reminder sounds in his head. He remembers 15 and the things he said but more than that, as he looks around the table, he remembers being the last to arrive at a hangout of people you're already worried hate you only to find them having a good time without you. 

Eddie has always prided himself on his ability to run a good session. "Stevie, gimme back our paladin, do I need to bring in a hostage negotiator."

A cookie held in one hand while the other smooths down the ruffled fringe of his bangs, Mike re-enters the dining room. The back of his Hellfire shirt is bunched and, if that weren't sign enough he'd been on the receiving end of a perfect Harrington hug, he looks settled. A smile tugging at his face that Eddie hadn't realized how much he missed, he looks boyish and happy and if Eddie didn't before he understands Steve's mission to keep these kids kids by whatever means necessary.

"Alright, now where were we?” He says once Mike is back in his seat beside Will, “Ah yes, you all watch in horror as the vampire spawn, hastened, dash away from you all with the unconscious, but still alive, body of Sir William the Wizened." Before anyone can restart the shouting, and he knows there will be shouting now that they’ve all had a chance to look over their notes and their character sheets, he barrels on. “From the hill behind you comes a shot. An arrow flies, thwip thwip. It slices between you all, before sinking into the back of one of the spawn at the back of the pack. He stumbles to the ground and the rest of the pack leave him to die.”

“We can interrogate him!” 

“Worry about who’s behind us, dude.”

He doesn’t let Mike or Dustin derail him, Eddie continues, “As you turn the hill behind you is nothing but mist. You all know the range of an elven bow, but whoever fired it is nowhere to be seen. You wait, breath held, as a figure all in black slowly approaches. You get the feeling you see him now only because he wants to be seen.

“Will, describe your new character for us!”

[anna1306]

I read your poly!lost boys x reader from addams family while I was watching addams family values and that got me thinking how would the boys react to Pubert (the baby) and Wensday and Pugsley trying to kill him to?

It's slowly turning into series 😅

Poly!Lost boys x Addams!Reader

Part 4

Part 3 is here

It should have been a simple visit to Addams residence. Normal, ordinary, usual. The family and the boys were used already to you coming from time to time to the Addams house. It was your first visit in nearly a year, as you were busy with your things in Santa-Carla. But you, of course, should have meet your new little brother. And the boys had to meet him too, they were practically Addams at this point.

Even if they were a bit taken aback by his... Unusual looks right from the birth. But they were getting used to it in this family. Still they weren't accustomed to lots of other things...

"What in the actual hell?!" Marko exclaimed, floating in the air, while holding baby Pubert in his hands, who, even being upside down, giggled nonchalantly. The vampire didn't expect to walk out from their room to a baby, literally flying off the railings of the long staircase. Only his reaction, sharpened by all those years with high Paul, let him catch the baby in time.

"A game." Wednesday answered calmly, only her eyes held a glint of disappointment.

"HE WENT FLYING THROUGH THE GODDAMN AIR STRAIGHT TO THE WINDOW!" Screamed Marko. Other boys went out to investigate the commotion, noticing kids on the second floor, standing near the stairs.

"We miscalculated." Pugsley shrugged almost calmly, like his sister, but lowered his head under attentive gaze of Dwayne.

"What's with the noise?" You showed up to the scene next, looking around. "Oh, you are playing!" You smiled, looking up to Marko with the baby in his hands.

"Your siblings sent little one flying across the room. I am not sure that this is safe for him." Marko lowered himself on the floor. You shook your head slightly, taking Pubert in your hands.

"No, it's not safe at all, love." You bounced your little brother in your hands. "He would probably die from the fall."

"Then why the hell you are so calm about it?.." Marko furrowed his brows, not understanding the situation at all.

"Don't get the wrong idea. It's not normal to play this way with babies. But I get where they are coming from. I was jealous when Pugsley showed his face in this world too." You admitted in hushed tone, though your whole family knew of it. You smiled, looking at Pubert in your hands. "More so, old traditions are very strong in our family. When there is another baby, one of the elder ones must die."

"You tried to kill your own brother?" Scoffed Paul, looking at you, clearly not believing you. Others were more surprised at the fact of such tradition existing in your family, but didn't have the time to ask you about that.

"And sister." You added, raising your gaze at one of your boyfriends. "I almost feel nostalgic..."

"But they both managed to survive."

"They were very persistent little spawns of darkness." You giggled. "Besides, mother had very convincing and strict talk with me. It is nothing but a phase, it will pass."

"But they can kill him in this phase!" Marko exclaimed nervously, obviously stressed about this topic.

"We, Addams, are made from tough material, darling. You can't simply kill us." You kissed him on the cheek, in attempt to calm him down. "But we need to inform mother and father about it and keep an eye on the situation." You nodded in agreement. The boys looked between each other with heavy sigh.

And keep an eye on the situation they did exactly. Even if it didn't seem like it, one of the boys constantly were listening in to the baby or even watching him if they could. In daytime they trusted you or your parents to keep the situation in bay. In nighttime they all helped one way or another.

David could somehow distinguish normal bottle with baby food from the poisonous one. Dwayne, on several occasions, managed to grab arrows or daggers thrown in the direction of the baby. Marko almost got used to catching Pubert in middle air. And Paul screamed like a banshee every time he saw your little brother in the guillotine.

Of course, Morticia and Gomez instigated the talk with your siblings. It helped little, as Wednesday calmly continued doing the same, just more secretly, and Pugsley always were very leading by nature and he trusted her fully.

The boys joined the talk, but only inserted some short phrases. Paul was the only one who stood more to the side, not knowing what to say exactly.

"I know you both won't tell us anything about your reasons. And I know you will agree to anything so you will get out of this situation as soon as possible." David scoffed, knowing it from him and his brothers all to well, in regards to their relations with Max. "But if this is about jealousy, there is no reason. Your parents, I am sure of it, love all of you equally."

"But of course!" Gomez exclaimed, jumping from his seat. "You are all my little monsters, whom I love!"

"We still loved your sibling, Y/N, and decided to have you." Calmly added Morticia, holding Pubert in her hands. "If this is the reason behind your behaviour, it is illogical."

"We heard you." Wednesday's face didn't change one bit. Pugsley, though, looked down during the whole conversation, not daring to look up. You had a feeling that he was more scared of your or Dwayne's reaction than his parents'.

"Whom will you kill then?" He asked, glancing at your parents. "One Addams to come, one Addams to go, right?"

"Oh, my monster, this tradition is old. Look at your uncle and your father. They are both only on the way to their eternal sleep." Morticia smiled at your brother.

"Oh, but how funny our games were!" Uncle Fester laughed excitedly. "I locked him up in the crypt for a week before he was thin enough to get out through the window. And how Gomez electrocuted me... My head was lighting, like a bulb!" Gomez smiled fondly at the memories.

"Then consider it sibling game. Or rivalry." Wednesday came up with the solution. "They try to kill each other every night practically." She threw glance in the boys direction.

"Pffft, we can't die from the fall." Scoffed Marko, almost insulted by this.

"Yes, we are pretty much immortal. But still we wouldn't harm each other that hard or put one of us in gravely danger." Dwayne nodded, glancing at Paul. "Even if someone is asking for it."

"Hey!" He almost jumped at the brunette, but you quickly stood in front of him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

"Enough is enough, mon chèr." You looked at him sternly. Paul pouted, but didn't dare to make another attempt to attack. You were reminding him of Morticia sometimes, he was... A little afraid of that. You kissed him on the cheek to lift a bit tension from him and turned to your siblings. "There is nothing wrong with playing once in a while or healthy competition, battle, rivalry. But be more aware of the fact that he can't fully play with you yet. There is no reason for you to follow such an old tradition that even our father had abandoned. Deal?"

"Deal." Wednesday answered. Pugsley nodded silently. "Can we finish this humiliation here?"

Of course they continued their attempts even after that talk. Just in more secretive way. Marko even mumbled to himself that it was easier to turn the baby at this point. Easier and safer.

But you were right in the end This went on only for some time. After a while Wednesday and Pugsley settled in and all of the attempts to get rid of Pubert turned into more playful ones. They were Addams games, nonetheless, but the level of danger got significantly lower.

The boys were still pretty hesitant to go back to Santa-Carla though.

"You sure it's okay?" You smiled at nervous Paul. If you weren't the one driving, you could swear he would turn around in an instant.

"It's all going to be alright, love. Parents are more than capable of dealing with this on their own."

"They tried to set him on fire yesterday." Dwayne noticed, looking out of the rear window, your house and family standing in front of it, waving to you.

"Ah, the game of Inquisition. Classic. I taught Wednesday how to play this." You smiled and turned from the road to look at your boys. "I am touched that you care so much for my little brother and for my family. But I assure you, that the most dangerous times are over. Now they can deal with it themselves. Besides, I heard parents discussed hiring a nanny, so..."

"Kitten, a tree!" David grabbed the steering wheel, sharply turning it and the car back to the road. You whimpered a bit, hearing a crash from the back of the hearse. Apparently, Marko got thrown into the wall by the sharp turn and was cursing now to himself. "Please, watch the road, you are not immortal yet."

"David, I will love you even in death. Even from the other side." You smiled at him, but returned your attention to the road.

"We know this. But let's not get you killed before you get to turn, alright?" He asked, sitting on the passenger seat next to you. "I don't think you have the luck of this non-killable baby."

"Oh, mon cœur, but this is Addams's family trait." You simply laughed at this, completely and utterly sure that you had chosen your loved ones right.

The Lost Boys Taglist: @minafromasgard @starmullet @iloveslasher @twistedharper @ichorixm @promptsforstuff @collieflower215 @henhouse-horrors @smenny @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @the-faceless-bride

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

I was going to actually post this before asks closed (didn’t get the chance), but Teddy Bear Anon, you are one of my favorite people and a magnificent creature. You get my vibe. 

About Bad canonically being Sapnap’s dad I feel like that has so much extra angst potential when we consider the rest of the found family. Like. Sapnap, Tommy, and Fundy all have dads who started with the best of intentions but for one reason or another ended up slowly becoming a danger to them. I imagine Tommy and Fundy one day showing up with a cake and telling Sapnap “We regretfully welcome you to the shit dad club” and Sapnap is torn between being upset still and laughing over the absurdity of the situation.

Bonus points if Tommy made the cake using a recipe book that Niki gave him, the last gift Niki ever gave to Tommy. Tommy was originally a really bad cook/baker but after the egg really started to take over he went full survivalist. Leaning to cook was necessary but learning to bake was something he did as a way to raise everyone’s spirits. He’s never gotten the flavor quite to match with Niki’s perfectly but everyone agrees he’s gotten pretty decent in terms of skills. He and Fundy in particular will sometimes just spend an entire day in silence baking and then quietly eat their creations while reflecting on the friends they’ve made and lost over the course of L'manberg’s lifetime. When the group got back to the past and Niki made cookies for Tommy and Fundy the pair very nearly started crying.

Tommy is in an interesting position as a character since he did commit a lot of minor crimes and acted as a general nuisance but he was also still a child. (A very traumatized one considering I canonize SMP Earth with its unlimited lives but even more wars. Including against God. Tommy fought God just let me have this.) He acknowledges the moments when he went over the line and has tried to apologize. In particular at some point before the egg fully takes over he pulls aside Jack and tells him that he’s sorry for the way he acted when he was still in exile, taking one of Jack’s lives and all. Jack and Niki in particular are an interesting subject to address and a painful one for immune!Tommy to think about when he sees younger Niki because the three never fully tossed out the hatchet but it was obvious in the eyes of someone like Sam that both of them were growing more and more hesitant to hurt Tommy. It was made worse by the fact neither were even marginally immune, and it didn’t take long for the egg to get to them.

He never stopped being chaotic. Tommy at his core is just that kind of person. He did, however, grow up enough to act in a more mature manner. Started to recognize what’s too much. In particular he became a lot less violent and willing to lash out after Sam Nook in essence reparented him. He’s still an absolute wild card of a person, which in the eyes of Sam and Sapnap is a good thing. For this au I think we should actually address Tommy having severe ptsd and during the building of his hotel/the early days of the egg before it becomes a noticeable threat it shows. He’s a lot more subdued. Shows of aggression all carry a kind of desperation and his typical jokes feel flat. Lashing out at people slowly becomes more of a defense mechanism to see if someone’s going to leave or betray him, to test the limits of how nice they’re willing to be. After all, nice people have only ever been nice to Tommy when they wanted something from him. His eyes, especially after L'manberg is blow sky high, are well and truly gray. The first time Tommy genuinely laughs after filling Sapnap’s room with chickens is considered celebration worthy to them. His pranks take on a more hermitcraft-esque feel to them which honestly makes them more funny.

By the time they get to the past Tommy has recovered, but he still carries the kind of maturity that like Teddy Bear mentioned is reminiscent of age swap Tommy. When he gets especially stressed though, Immune!Tommy will slip into moments where he acts as tired and done with the world as age swap Tommy. With that said, most of the time he just acts like a more mature Tommy. Nothing could ever completely erase his unique vibe which Ranboo has gone on record as describing “Willing to fight God deaf, blind, and backwards just to prove a point." 

Immune Fundy and Tommy get on really well once Fundy manages to catch up with the rest of the group. It gets to the point where everyone from the past is kinda shocked since smp Fundy and Tommy do not get along. At all. Literally the first night Fundy’s back someone goes to wake them up and they find Fundy asleep on top of Tommy which is a wild experience since this Tommy is a goliath who often refuses to take off his full Netherite max enchant armor. He really becomes a "looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll” kinda mans.

Also, yeah, this is Dream’s retirement arc. He is literally just sitting in the corner watching Tommy dote on his younger self and Tubbo before completely pile driving two of the most powerful people on the server straight into the dirt. At some point Tommy sits down with past Punz. He tells this Punz that their Punz died protecting him and Tubbo and that Tommy never got to properly thank their Punz so he’s going to thank this Punz. Tommy then gives Punz an entire stack of Netherite. If we’re gonna go ahead and agree on Phoenix Tommy then Tommy is fire proof, meaning he probably spent a large amount of time in the nether to avoid the egg crew and get rare supplies. Meaning he also probably did a lot of mining just to distract himself and it resulted in him being loaded. Tommy used to have a fear of tnt and explosives but he seems like the type of mad lad to say “exposure therapy” and make a massive cavern in the underbelly of the nether.

I think it would also be really interesting to dedicate like, a couple of chapters to other people’s perspectives. I kind of want to set the time they arrive in the past partway through the Pogtopia arc since I like mildly unhinged but not completely gone Wilbur. Plus then it also makes more sense for Techno to be there. Just prefer the aesthetic really. I want to have Wilbur see this version of Tommy and come to a sudden “oh” moment. I want to have a moment where Tubbo looks between his Tommy and this new Tommy, seeing himself nowhere to be found, and has enough what the fuck moments to become aggressively protective of his own Tommy. Especially if immune!Tommy ever admits to the past Tubbo why he is the way he is, what he faced under the thumb of the people he trusted. Which, out of everyone on the server, Tubbo would be the first one from the past to actively learn. 

I am fully on board with Tommy knowing how to sew. That should just automatically be canon in literally ever AU. Tommy for all intents and purposes is still Phil’s child for me. Survival runs in the family the same way that chaos does, so he’s got a ton of basic survival skills that he just doesn’t show off because it’s still Tommy. He would have been completely fine in exile if it wasn’t for Dream. Whenever someone ruins their clothes in the Immune group they automatically go to Tommy and at first the past versions are very confused (except for past Tommy and Tubbo obviously) and then Tommy’s just “Sapnap this is beyond ruined it can’t be saved, let me make you something new” and within a couple days he makes Sapnap a completely new outfit. Like maybe Sapnap fell into a lava pool because Blaze Sapnap Supremacy and his clothes are beyond saving and everyone is beyond baffled when Tommy just acts like this is a weekly occurrence. He’s memorized Sapnap’s measurements and style tastes and already had a new outfit in the works for him that Sapnap immediately adores upon it being presented to him. It takes about a week for past Eret to learn that Tommy stress sews new clothing and he cannot think of a better model. Eret has never had such a full closet. Eret has everything from three piece suits to ball gowns now. Eret lives in terror of the days where Tommy disappears god knows where with Fundy and the two reappear with a new wardrobe for the entire god damn server. 

Speaking of disappearing I really like the idea of part phoenix and part tanuki Tommy for a couple reasons. Being a Tanuki he’d have access to enough magic to hide his hybrid traits, which if they’ve been present for long enough would be a necessity to him. Additionally think about Fundy and Tommy building a den under Church Prime that slowly turns into a maze. Think about it. It starts off simple and then they both start digging more and it gets deeper and deeper and more complicate and the two just refer to it as their den and the only ones who are fully aware of the connotations of that word are Sam, Sapnap, and Ranboo who remember the absolute hell that was trying to navigate the original. Just Fundy and Tommy bonding over the fact they are literally the only creatures on this server that have this catacomb memorized and at the end of the catacomb is their saferoom which connects to rail way that the two spent a month straight on. It goes at least 25k blocks from spawn and it’s a final emergency resort in case they can’t stop the egg and the Immunes needs to regroup and essentially try again (if they keep bringing their younger selves with them then hopefully they’ll finally get an army large enough to stop this, but everyone really hopes it doesn’t come to that.)

I’m working on the first chapter of my fic right now actually if I’m gonna be honest and phoenix Tommy is absolutely without question canon to it but I’ve still been going back and forth on if I want him to be part tanuki as well or just blessed/favored by one like Teddy Bear mentioned. I’m also tucking away the whole thing about the magma blood for later use. Phoenix Tommy just makes sense. They used to call him Zombie Kid for a reason back on SMP Earth, he just literally does not die ever unless he decides he does.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[icollectyoursins]

Ecto/Slime!Kakyoin x Fem!Reader

@themainheroinechan asked: “I’m in the mood for Kakyoin and tentacles so Ecto Slime/ Ecto Gell Monster!Kakyoin? Like always, Spicy”

I’m always a slut for tentacles, so this was a delight to write. At first I was like, yeah, tentacles! Easy. And then I was like... what if... eggs?? So, this kind of went “off the rails.”

A walk through the swamp would have been a great idea... if you hadn’t accidentally ran into a very horny (albeit gentle) swamp uh- creature. The being explained that it needed some help uhmmm-delivering it’s eggs which you hesitantly agreed to, but honestly, it wasn’t the weirdest thing you had agreed to! But, then things got a little out of hand and now... you’re kind of stuck.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, light nipple play, slime tentacles, breeding (eggs), ovipositor (the thing the eggs come out of/ the act of laying eggs in someone or something (in terms of the fetish)), light dub-con at the end kinda?, I guess this also counts as pregnancy kink... oops, goo used to keep the eggs in.

Word Count: 2,280

Stuck Between a Rock and a Gooey Place

     A hushed whimper fell from your lips as a soft and surprisingly sturdy hand wrapped itself around your own, pulling you towards the slime-creature. Kakyoin smiled sweetly at you, silently reassuring you while you stepping into his green puddle. Your clothes had already been discarded, neatly set in a pile on a rock near by. 

     He brought you closer, holding you in his arms while he gently kissed across your collar bones and shoulders. A warm, tingling feeling sprawled across your body leaving you wanting more. You cupped your hand around his face before bringing it to yours, kissing him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he leaned in more. Whatever you were feeling was amplified ten-fold for him.

     It felt as though everything was lit on fire; a full body burn and you were the aloe. It took everything in him to not hurt you or push you down, sticking you in his goo, then filling you. That wasn’t what you agreed on. You said you would help and he was more than grateful for that, but the more you kissed him; the more your hands explored his body the less control he had.

     Kakyoin felt himself deepening the kiss, though he wasn’t entirely sure he was the one in control. A hand came up to cup your breast, smoothly rolling a thumb over your nipple. You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan which sent a shiver down his spine. His lips fell on your neck again, lightly sucking a bruise into it. This time, your moan was more confident; louder. 

     His eggs churned within him. He couldn’t resist anymore, every fibre of his being was urging him to mate you. He’d be gentle, of course. Why would he want to hurt the mother of his children?

     “Please,” he begged, soft, gooey body melting into you, “I need to-”

     His sentence was cut off by a whine as you wrapped your hand around his member, leaning back into his puddle and spreading yourself for him. You were like a delicious buffet laid out before him, begging to be devoured, hand slowly pumping his length. He was on you instantly, kissing and sucking where ever he could, lips wrapping around each of your nipples before returning to your own. 

     Kakyoin wasted no time lining his length with your entrance, spreading his warm, lubricating across your folds before teasing his tip against you. You removed your hand, wrapping your arms around his neck instead, lightly running your fingers through his “hair” (you weren’t quite sure what he would call it, but it looked and acted like hair). Your cunt began to tingle from the liquid he had spread on you, sending messages of lust straight to your head.

     You broke the kiss, looking down to where the two of you were almost connected. His cock was different than any you had ever seen before. It was long and ribbed with a larger-than-normal opening at the end where it tapered. It seemed to ooze a sticky substance which you assumed was the same stuff he rubbed on you. He followed your gaze, breath hot on your face. 

     “Do you like what you see?” He whispered. You bit your lip, nodding. The “cock” twitched against you. “Good.” He breathed, capturing your lips again. The goo-puddle around you seemed to get warmer as you felt it writhe beneath you. You would have cared if you had been in any other scenario; with anyone other person, but you didn’t care. Something wrapped around your legs, pulling them open more while his hand came to your breast. 

     “Don’t move,” Kakyoin said, pulling away. His brushed over your lips with his free hand, eyes full of love and devotion. “I’ll try to go slow, but...” he trailed off, suddenly becoming concerned, “tell me if you feel any pain, I have something that can help with that.”

     You nodded, though you were a little confused. He let out a desperate sigh before his hands braced themselves on either side of you, hair dangling in your face enough to tickle your nose. You giggled, blowing it out of the way playfully, then you brushed it to the side, hands tangling themselves in his hair again. It was that moment that he knew, really knew you were perfect. A picture of you curled in his arms, round with his spawn danced through his mind. 

     Perfect.

     Carefully, he started pressing his length into you, whispering praises as you writhed under him. You had little movement, but still couldn’t help twisting, trying to get used to the slow feeling of his cock filling you to the brim. A heavenly cry left your lips when his tip pushed against your walls, unable to go any further.

     As he pulled out a warm, slimy tentacle not unlike the ones around your legs wrapped around your breasts, teasing your pert nipples and squeezing gently. He was almost completely out when he dove himself back in, still careful but faster than the first time. Gradually, he worked his hips to a pace you could both enjoy, moans filling the air.

     He attached himself to your neck again, leaving more delicate bruises. Kakyoin willed his puddle to push you into him. There wasn’t an inch of space between you as he gyrated into you. He could feel his eggs turning, slowly making their way towards his ovipositor. And you, with the combined feeling of his tentacles on your breasts, his length sliding against your walls and the tingling substance on your pussy, were also getting close. 

     Your head tossed back, crying out his name, fingers gripping his hair now. He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips. 

     “Do that again,” he grunted out. You did, deliberately this time, drawing it out oh, so sweetly. Over and over you called out his name, your release quickly approaching. “That’s it, you’re doing so well. Just a little more. Shhh, don’t worry. It’ll all be worth it.” He whispered in your ear and you were done. 

     You arched your back, screaming through your orgasm that left your vision white. Kakyoin moaned with you, burying himself deep inside you. You felt a warm, pleasant burn fill your cunt, leaving a delicious numbing sensation in your core. His arms wrapped around you, his body almost melting into your again. He whimpered and moaned desperately in your ear. That’s when you felt something large pushing against your entrance; something from within his phallus. 

     Eyes grew wide as the round thing stretched you, slowly falling down his length before settling in your gut. You let out a scream, suddenly thrashing in his grasp. Instantly, he began to soothe you, kissing your cheek while petting your hair.

     “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe; don’t worry.” He was surprised he was able to form complete sentences. Another moan ripped through both of you as a second egg made its way into you. Tears fell from the corners of your eyes which he gentle swept away with a thumb. “Does it hurt?” You nodded frantically, nails digging into his shoulders. He kissed you while one of his hands moved down to where the eggs rested, massaging soothing circles into your muscles. A third one came as he spoke again.

     “It’s ooooohhhkaayy~ uunnhh. Does-ah! Does this heeelppp!” He was panting by the time it got all the way through. That one was bigger than he expected. You were still crying, visibly uncomfortable. In the short amount of time he had, he brought one of his tentacles out of the puddle. “Open your mouth, sweetheart, please. It’ll help.” Kakyoin’s hands came up to cup your face, thumb brushing against your lips while gently easing them open. You saw the tentacle out the corner of your eye and began to struggle.

     Another egg threatened to stretch your poor entrance again. He tried his best, but couldn’t hold it back, all he could do was try to soothe you. Your cheeks were littered with soft kisses while you screamed. The round thing rolled almost down to his tip, but then got stuck. While your mouth was open, he ceased his opportunity, shoving the tentacle into it. The end of it grazed your throat as you let out muffled sounds on pain. Suddenly, your mouth began to fill with a warm liquid. He held your face as you choked on it.

     “Swallow, (Y/N), please. It will help, I promise.” He was practically begging as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. Seeing you in pain combined with the egg being stuck was overwhelming for him. Soon, though, you were forced to swallow the liquid, favouring air over suffocation. It warmed your whole body as it quickly made its way to your stomach. 

     Thankfully, the pain started to subside, a numbing sensation flooded over you. While he was thankful, he could feel what would be the fifth egg now making it’s way to his canal. It was going to get stuck, he knew it. Removing the tentacle from your mouth, he spoke again.

     “Good, good. I’m sorry that made you hurt, it’ll be better now. Shhh. Just relax.” Kakyoin wrapped all of his goo around you this time, the puddle cradling you in warmth. Another kiss was placed on your forehead. “There’s more, but this one is going to feel un~aaah-” it was coming, tumbling down towards you. “This one is going to be-mm! Uncomfortable, I’m sorry, but ~Aaaah~ we’re almost done, just relaaAAX!” 

     The egg pushed through your entrance quickly, predictably getting caught against the other one. You whimpered, pressing your head into the walls of the puddle that cradled you. He panted, breath hot against your face. Carefully, he squeezed, trying to push it through to your womb. They moved a little, but not enough. Panic started to settle in his stomach. He buried his face into your neck, whimpering into your skin.

     Tired, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. Whatever you had swallowed was now in full swing, relaxing you to the point of wanting to sleep. He sighed, thankful for the gesture, then tried again, pushing then letting go of the tension until he felt another one push itself through him. Kakyoin mumbled an “I’m sorry” that you didn’t quite catch.

     A sixth egg rolled through both of you, knocking into the last one to get stuck, this sent the one closest to his tip shooting through to your womb, stretching you more. The other two followed suit, relieving him of the discomfort from being backed up. The two of you sighed gratefully, but there were still more. 

     Pleasure started to come back as the seventh made its way to your womb. You arched your back, moaning at the stimulation of the round thing sliding through you. Kakyoin pushed himself up, leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

     “One more, I think. Just one more.” He was exhausted, panting heavily. In a moment of bravery you looked down at your belly, his eyes followed you. You looked about four or five months pregnant, round and plump. A new light was ignited in him. Lips crashed into yours as one of his hands pressed into your stomach again. Fuck, the two of you thought, you looked really good.

     Another round egg tucked itself into you and you found yourself getting hot  with pleasure again. You hoped there was one more, just one more to bring you to orgasm and then that was it. Your partner moaned again, face scrunching up in discomfort. He looked at your with sorry eyes. His hips rolled into you again, whole body tightening as what you assumed was another unexpected egg plunged through him.

     “It’s-ah, hah,” he panted, “issa’nother biggg-one.” His words were slurred with exhaustion. A high, broken moan tore its way though him as it rolled down to your stretched cunt. You felt it against your lips. This was probably the biggest one yet. You screamed with him as it forced its way to your womb slowly. Both of you silently prayed it wouldn’t get stuck again. 

     Kakyoin’s vision went white as it got caught on his tip. You squeezed around him, testing to see if it would help and by god, did it! He mewled when your walls contracted around him gently, but with just enough force to send the egg surging into you. Your voice cracked as you came again, eyes rolling into the back of your head before falling limp in his arms. 

     The two of you panted, holding each other close. Eventually he leaned back as you set yourself up onto your elbows. You now looked six months pregnant, stomach distending with his spawn. Slowly, he pulled himself out, tentacles uncurling themselves from your legs at the same time. You felt a small squirt against your folds when he was out completely. 

     “Apologies,” he said. “Our species does that to keep them in until...” his eyes flicked up to yours playfully, chuckling softly. “You get the gist. Now, lets get you home so I can do something about these.”

     His hands brushed over the bruises on your body. You sleepily hummed in agreement, trying to roll yourself onto your feet, but your distended stomach made it difficult. He happily helped you, recalling his goo to form clothing and legs. Gentle hands dressed you, though, your pants didn’t quite fit like they used to. Kakyoin chuckled at how your clothes refused to cover your stomach. 

     You grabbed his hand, happily following him through the brush and trees to his home.

[justcourttee]

The Never Ending Cycle of Proposals

This is a continuation of this post and the idea was presented by @mystery-5-5 . I was so excited to finish it and hope you like it! :)

This was not how it was supposed to go.

Damian had made sure of it. He found and destroyed every contingency plan that Jason and the others had formed. He flew Marinette back to Paris, to her parent’s bakery so that they could be a part of the moment. There should be no possible way things could go sideways.

Clearly he had underestimated the members of Date Duty.

“-and then Marinette fell down the stairs! Can you believe it? It was her big debut at the Wayne Gala as Damian’s girlfriend and this girl got so nervous that she tripped over her own two feet.”

“That’s our Marinette. As graceful as ever.”

A boisterous laughter filled Damian’s ears as the bakery door snapped shut behind him. Checking his watch, he tried to recall how long he had been gone. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. How did Jason get to Paris?

“Oh! Damian sweetie, look who just flew in to check in on us and low and behold, he didn’t even know that you and Marinette had the exact same thought! How crazy is that?”

Damian plastered on his best fake smile as his eyes attempted to burn Jason’s smirk off his face.

“Very crazy indeed Sabine. Do you mind if my brother and I excuse ourselves for a moment?”

“Oh! Not at all, we should really be getting ready to open anyways. Please, feel free to head up to the apartment. Marinette should be back from Alya’s soon, but make yourselves at home boys.”

They both nodded as Damian stalked behind Jason, forcing him to take the steps two at a time. As Jason threw open the door, he finally released the laughter that he had been holding back.

“I really didn’t think you were going to make it. If you actually had any powers, I would’ve been scared for my life down there.”

“I don’t need powers to kill you Todd.”

Jason reached out to ruffle Damian’s hair, his smirk only fueling the smaller boy’s rage.

“What are you doing here Todd? This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for Marinette to see her parents. You are neither relaxing or her parents.”

“Oh don’t be coy with me Dami, I know what you’re really here for, we all do in fact. Did you really think you could get away with proposing to Marinette without getting through us first? You only tore up some fake plans, plans meant to lure you into revealing when you were going to propose. Considering how quick you were to get Marinette on a plane without saying goodbye tells me you plan on doing it this week.”

Damian counted backward from ten as he tried to consider all of his options left. He had taken into consideration that the plans could be fake, but there should’ve been no way that they could’ve tracked him to Paris. He paid in cash at the airport for the tickets and flew economy, economy for crying out loud!

“I thought your whole little club was to protect Marinette from heartbreak, there was no mention of protecting her from proposals.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong Damian.” The look on Jason’s face was unnerving to say the least, but Damian refused to back down. This was his girlfriend, his soon to be finance, and the only woman he wanted to love for the rest of his life. There was no way he would let some street rat like Jason stop him.

“I refuse to allow you to ruin this Todd.”

“Allow implies that you think you have control over this and I can assure you that you don’t. Marinette will not be leaving Paris with a ring on her finger, marriage is out of the question. You are lucky that we have allowed you two to be together for so long. You are too dangerous for her demon spawn and marriage places an even larger target on her back than the one she already has.”

“Are you prepared to be defeated protecting your ideals Todd?”

“Are you Damian?”

Damian felt the low growl in the back of his throat itching it’s way forward. He was so close to Jason’s face, he could end this right here and now, throw him in the guest room and never look back.

“Damian? Jason? What are you two doing here? And alone at that?”

Both turned their attention to the door where Marinette stood, a sheepish expression on her face as if she could feel the tension radiating off the two men.

“Hey princess! I was just stopping by to check in on your parents and I definitely had no idea that you and Damian were here! You two lovebirds should’ve told someone before running off to Paris like that.”

Jason pulled Marinette into a tight hug, sticking his tongue out behind her head at Damian.

“Well, I did. I told Adrien just in case anything happened.”

One look at Jason’s smug expression and Damian knew. One little blonde went racing to his brother before he and Marinette had even boarded the plane.

“Oh that’s good then, I’m glad someone knew. I’ll leave you two alone now, after all, I have places to be and people to see and I’m sure you have a wonderful vacation planned for Damian here.”

Marinette nodded with little enthusiasm as she waved bye to Jason, locking the door behind him.

“Damian, what was that about?”

He shook his head as he pulled her forward placing a small kiss on her forehead.

“I wish I knew habibti.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Damian was on full alert for the next couple of days, unable to relax and enjoy his time with Marinette’s family for fear that one of his nemesis would pop out at any moment and steal the ring hidden safely inside his coat pocket. Every once in a while, he would find his hand absentmindedly searching for the box, just as a reassurance that it was still there.

He wasn’t scared of the members of Date Duty, but he was scared that the moment that he had planned out for so long would be ruined by a handful of imbeciles.

“Oh look! It’s Chloe and Luka! I didn’t know they were in town.”

Damian's attention became hyper focused as he narrowed in on the suspicious couple waving them over. There was no way that two members of Jason’s little club decided to fly back on the same week that he and Marinette did.

He smiled and shook hands with Luka as they chatted idly for a few minutes. Marinette promised to catch up with them later before leaning in to hug Chloe. The blonde turned her attention to him as she leaned in and hugged him bye as well. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious, nothing-

“Fuck.”

Damian’s hand went straight to his now empty pocket. He searched frantically to be sure that it hadn’t fallen in any holes that he wasn’t aware of, but alas, it was gone. Marinette held onto his hand tightly, concern filling her eyes, but he waved her off.

If that’s how Todd wanted to play, then fine. Damian was ready. It was time for Jason to bring it on. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Damian wasn’t sure how he thought the rest of the week would play out, but this was not it.

Monday he had gone to buy another ring when he ran into Tony Stark. He claimed he was there to get his wife a unique gift from Paris. Turns out a unique gift meant buying her every jewelry store in Paris, or at least majority shares, effectively destroying Damian’s chances of finding a new ring.

Tuesday he decided to just propose without the ring, after all, it just meant she could pick out a new one whenever they hit stateside again. They had made it all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower, watching the sunset with her curled into his side as they leaned on the railing. He wanted to wait until the tower had cleared a bit, right when the sun dipped below the horizon, but much to his fear a large squeal erupted from the platform.

None other than Jagged Stone had decided to do an impromptu concert on top of the Eiffel Tower. Soon, between the noise and the crowd, Damian couldn’t even think straight, much less make space to go down on one knee. They called it a night with the question still on the tip of his tongue.

By Wednesday, Sabine had caught on to the real reason they were there. She pulled him to the side along with Tom where the both offered her engagement ring. Damian finally felt like he had caught a break. How foolish that was.

They walked into Marinette’s favorite restaurant that night only to find out that it had been bought out for the night by the Agreste family. He apparently decided that this would be an excellent date night spot for him and Kagami.

Thursday came and went with no attempts made. He had barely made it out of bed when he heard two voices in the kitchen. Praying to whatever God would hear him, Damian opened the door only to feel his heart drop. Tim and Dick sat in the kitchen while Marinette heated up some coffee, telling her all about the business deal they were taking care of in Paris.

Lucky for them, they had a day off and wanted to spend it with their favorite couple.

As Friday’s sun rolled in, Damian felt defeated.

“Mon amour, are you even listening?”

Damian nodded absentmindedly as he fiddled with the ring in his pocket.

“So do you want to go to this little reunion dinner tonight?”

“With who?”

“With my old classmates? I think Dick and Tim might stop by if they get out early today. Should be fun!”

He attempted a smile for her sake as he sent her a small nod. So on their last night in Paris, they all decided to gather in one spot making it impossible for Damian to sneak out with Marinette. It felt pretty foolproof.

“Damian, why have you been so out of it lately? This whole week you have been constantly checking over your shoulder. Are you worried about something?”

Marinette gathered his hand as she sunk on to the bed beside him.

“I just wanted this trip to be special, but a couple of special idiots have proved to make that nearly impossible. I don’t know how you dealt with them over the years.”

“Well, it felt nearly hopeless. I was convinced I was going to be single forever, but one man swooped in and saved me making me feel like there was nothing those special idiots could do. I’d like to think that he feels the same way when it comes to me. After all, a proposal doesn’t need to be in some big memorable place, it just needs to be between two people who love each other.”

Damian’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water as he tried to stutter out a denial, but it was hopeless. His cheeks felt like they were a hundred degrees as her laughter floated through the air.

“How did you know?”

“Date Duty had been disabled for a year and a half now. For them to all conveniently show up in Paris on the same week that we did? Well I’m not a big believer in coincidences when it comes to that group.”

Damian reached inside his pocket, pulling out the delicate ring that Sabine had given him a few days prior. A few tears formed in the corner of Marinette’s eyes as she covered her splitting smile with her hand.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you have amazed me at every turn since the first time I saw you many years ago. You are a strong, creative, loving and beautifully confident woman. You are my first thought in the morning and my last as I drift to sleep at night. I can’t imagine living with anyone else by my side. Please, will you marry me?”

Marinette nodded as she offered her left hand, allowing him to slip on her mother’s ring. It was no where close to the proposal that he had planned, but as her lips crashed into his, it couldn’t have made him happier.

Maybe when he saw Jason’s little club tonight, he would thank them.

After all, they lead him to the woman he loved and without their persistence, his relationship wouldn’t be as strong as it is today.

He had finally broken the never ending cycle, and man, did it feel good.

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[midnightartemis]

Chapter One (Part One)

She learned that life was a game of survival from a young age. First, it was the religious fanatics— the ones with the locked fridge and the forced prayers and the idea that children were the spawn of Satan to be beaten and starved into godly angels. After them came the Johnsons. They were a young couple, hopeful and naive, and completely unprepared for the half-feral, skin and bones desert commune child that the government dumped in their laps. She didn’t last long there either. But they hadn’t let her starve and they hadn’t hit her and Rey tended to put that down as a plus in her book. It was why she started speaking (though in a British accent much to everyone’s surprise) and it was why she still kept their last name. Even when they gave up on her. After them… It was years in the system until she came to be in the hands of Unkar Plutt.

She learned how to survive. Learned how he always hit her where no one could see, but he only did it when he was raging drunk and he only was raging drunk a few times a month. She learned his tells, knew that some nights she was better off stealing a slushie from the 7-eleven and camping out at the skatepark until it was late enough to go back home. 

As long as she did her chores and didn’t give him trouble, Plutt let her be. Rey was okay with that. She could survive that. 

She sat on the lip of the park's bowl as the sun set, casting riotous shades of pink and purple and red across the cloudy sky. Summer had only just begun and while that met school, which she hated, was over, it also met more time with Plutt. More time in his shop. More ways to mess up and more drunken rages to avoid. She often wondered if he kept her around as something to look at or because she knew how to keep her mouth shut and balance his books. Both sets. 

She’s been coming to the park for a while now, at least when the weather was decent. The weather was always decent. There was something comforting about the sound of wheels and boards on concrete, the whoops and hollers of the skaters, the warmth of the sun on her skin. Reminded her of the desert- only the best parts. People left her alone. 

They learned after… Well, after they learned what happened when they didn’t. A few bloody noses. A few broken boards. Cause and effect. 

The only ones who ever paid her any mind were Kuruk and his small band of nerdy boys in black. Even then it was only a few words here and there. She respected their space and they respected hers. And after the broken nose incident, she’d almost become an honorary member of their group. A staple of the skatepark. She’d never had anywhere to belong before. 

It didn’t mean anything and you could fuck off if you thought it did. 

Rey watched them lazily, sipping on her stolen slushie as Cardo and AP kept biffing it on the same rail trick with a loud “fuck!” Every time. 

There were a few other people around, but like usual, most had left as it started to get dark. 

“Hey! Hey!”

Rey snapped to focus, frowning as she realized Kuruk had been trying to get her attention for a while and was now slowly jogging over to her. He held his board at his side and there was a lopsided smile on his face. He wore black baggy jeans and a baggy t-shirt like the rest of them and he always kept his dark hair buzz cut like he thought about joining the military but only committed to the hair style. 

“What.”

Kuruk laughed. “You’re a Rey of fuckin sunshine, you know that?”

Rey rolled her eyes. It was only the millionth time he had used that line on her. “What do you want, Kuruk?”

“The guys and I are headed to the loft. We wanted to know if you wanted to come.” He gave her that look that he always did that only told Rey he was trying to get in her pants. She was pretty sure the guys had a bet going on it. 

She sighed. “You better have the good vodka this time. And better smokes. Those last ones tasted like dried out ass crack.”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. One of my buddies is coming back from Chandrila and bringing the good college town shit.”

She didn’t know much about college towns but was fairly certain that “good” college town shit didn’t exist. She nodded anyway. “Fine. But imma kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

“Bet.” Kuruk offered her a hand and Rey let him pull her to her feet. She practically flew off the ground and threw them both into the bowl. It wasn’t that Kuruk was supernaturally strong or anything- she had seen him shirtless and seen that unfortunate happy trail- it was just that she was built like a skinny prepubescent boy with an eating disorder. Rey landed in Kuruks chest and scowled, shoving him off before he could say anything. Some whistles echoed over the park. She grabbed her melted purple slushie and flipped off the rest of the guys. 

Rey went with them with the promise that life would maybe suck less for a little bit with them. At the very least they treated her to free booze and a toke. Inebriation was about the only thing that made Trudge and Ushar’s misogynistic idiocy palatable and Kuruk’s advances maybe not the worst thing in the world. It was nice to be liked. To be wanted. Even if it was just to win a bet. She’d never let them know that. Maker end her if they ever found out. She had enough self worth to know it would never fucking happen. 

They skated through the darkening streets of Coruscant, slow enough that Rey could keep up on foot. It wasn’t hard. None of them could go ten feet without tipping a trash can over or trying to nail a trick off the curb. No one cared as they loudly made their way down the street, making themselves known to the world in the one way they could. Rey trailed after them in the dark. They left the cracked and degrading streets and dipped through a hole in the chain link fence, passing through a barely used rail yard and a dry culvert until they reached a small mostly abandoned warehouse. 

A few years back some real estate guy had bought it and started trying to convert the place into condos. He got about half way done before, probably, coming to his senses and realizing that no one on the south side of Coruscant wanted to buy a luxury condo. Even if there was exposed brick and industrial aesthetic, there was also high crime rates and a hatred of outsiders and gentrification. Scared off most of the investors and the rest vanished after the recession hit and never seemed to leave the south side. Buying the one completed loft back from the city was the only smart decision the guys ever made. Even if they only did it to piss the cops off who kept kicking them out for trespassing. 

Part of Rey wishes she had seen the encounter instead of hearing about it every five seconds from one of the guys. The other part of Rey wondered how they were even smart enough to come up with that plan, let alone execute it.

The Loft as they called it consisted of a giant open area that functioned as a gaming room and kitchen, the most disgusting bathroom Rey had ever stepped foot in, and three bedrooms which had once been split between all of them till Cardo got his own place and Vic moved in with his pregnant girlfriend. Three bedrooms became six after one drunken night where Ushar had taken a sledgehammer to the wall and broken into the abandoned half-finished apartment next door. As far as Rey knew, they were arguing between turning that living room into a sex dungeon or a pool table room. The vote was fifty fifty since Rey refused to participate and Trudge refused to pick a side. The whole place constantly smelled of weed and Kuruk’s weird incense. 

Rey would never admit it, but she secretly loved the place. The ceilings were at least twelve feet high and there were huge metal framed windows that looked out over a field of dead grass to the lights of the city.

Kuruk dug through the mess of a freezer pulling out a half bottle of Everclear and a mostly empty bottle of captain morgans, which Rey snatched from him without a word. She found an unopened can of coke and poured it straight into the Captain's bottle, swishing it around before taking a large sip. No one blinked an eye. 

Across the room, AP cursed as he tried to get the projector working. It wasn’t that old of a projector, but it had been purchased from some seedy electronic store that definitely looked the other way on where they acquired their products. Gaming was about the only thing they ever spent their money on and they had almost every game and system out there. That was the other reason Rey secretly liked this place. Secretly liked most of them. 

Rey carried her bottle with her across the room, stopping AP before the short haired black kid started to rip the machine apart in frustration. If she was being honest, AP was the only guy she ever thought about letting win their stupid bet. He was shy and generally quiet and never really said much to her, which Rey prefered. He gave up the projector to her with a frustrated grunt and sat down on the giant sectional couch to roll a joint with the last of their weed. 

After Rey popped open the lid of the projector and blew out the fan and circuitry, the projector came to life with a small whine. She popped the lid back on and adjusted the focus so it hit the stretched sheet across the room right. 

She hopped down from the chair and took the lit joint from AP for a deep hit before passing it back. Trudge and Ushar eventually moved from the back rooms howling to each other and fighting over who would play COD first. 

“Hey, dickheads. The lady’s already chosen Mario Kart.” Kuruk slammed a shot glass on the table. “Loser finishes the everclear.”

“She always fuckin wins.” Trudge groaned. “She always picks rainbow road. I fuckin hate rainbow road.”

Rey smiled to herself as Trudge and Ushar groaned but ultimately complied with their ringleader’s orders. 

She could kick their asses at Mario Kart with a blindfold on. Rey snatched up the Wii remote and easily beat Trudge, Ushar, and Kuruk on Mario Kart’s three hardest courses. Even when Kuruk sat beside her and Trudge tried to tackle him over the back of the couch. Happy with her victory and at the sight of Ushar and Trudge gagging down straight everclear, she released them to fight over endless rounds of COD. 

Her and AP quietly pass the last joint back and forth, her eyes growing hazy as she practices blowing smoke rings into the air. 

“God you fuckers are rank.”

Rey grips tightly the mostly gone Captain’s bottle in her hand at the unrecognizable voice. People stopped by the loft constantly, but it was always someone she knew. She was halfway to smashing her bottle and brandishing it as a weapon when the guys broke into a flurry of motion, leaping over the couch and flying at the voice as they howled. Rey jumps in the opposite way, watching as the stranger was set upon by the guys. It took a moment for Rey to realize that they weren’t actually beating him up. She took a long swig of her drink. 

Out of the male-bonding wrestling pit emerged one of the tallest, broadest men she had ever seen. He wore all black like the rest of them, but there was something different about him. Long black hair came to his shoulders and Rey fought off the sudden urge to run her fingers through it. His pale skin was covered in smatterings of moles and freckles and his long nose was hooked from a break that didn’t heal right. It wasn’t until his eyes caught hers that the world seemed to break away under her feet. She felt his intense brown eyes from across the room. They dropped down before traveling back up again. He met her with eyes with a smirk and Rey scowled back. Something flashed across his face, too quick for Rey to tell what it was. Confusion, maybe? 

Kuruk caught him staring at her and puffed out his chest in some sort of testosterone filled dominance display. The stranger's eyes didn’t leave her. Rey did the only thing she could think of to win whatever battle she was having with this asshole and downed the rest of the Captain's bottle without breaking eye contact. The corner of his lip tweaked up. 

Kuruk cleared his throat. “Kylo - Rey. Rey - Kylo.”

[thesnowinthemountains]

Getting Lost with Monsta X

listen this is so long i’m so sorry i have no excuse

Shownu

“We should turn back, it’s gonna be dark soon,” he said. “No, wait, I know this path, it’s just a little further up.” You were certain you knew the way. You had grown up nearby, you recognized every fallen tree, every bump in the ground. He was certain you were lost; every forest looked the same to him. He sighed, but followed you. “Trust me,” you looked at him, eyes wide. “Sure,” he grumbled, “but I’m getting hungry, so it better not be too far.” You shook your head and walked on. It was only a few minutes until you found the clearing you were looking for. At the end of it was a wooden structure, the same you remembered from when you were a kid. You ran over to it and climbed up the old stairs. He hurried after you and stopped at the top. “Woah,” he breathed. “See? I told you,” you said, proud. In front of you was a view of the whole town. You couldn’t have timed it better - the sun was setting behind the old church at the bottom of the mountain, all the houses and neighbourhoods lit up in fiery orange, the sky deepening in purples and pinks. You sat at the edge of the structure and he followed, reading all the messages engraved in wood from generations of teenagers spending their youth here. He found one that was unmistakably yours - lyrics from one of your favorite songs - and chuckled. “Really?” he pointed it out to you. You shrugged and pointed out another that was your initials with another pair of initials centered in a heart. He frowned and rummaged through his bag until he found an old pen. “No-” you started, but he was already carving both of your initials in a blank space on the railing. 

Wonho

“Are we just walking in circles? I feel like we’re just walking in circles.” You announce after an hour of what you deem to be pointless wandering. “It’s Venice, babe, it can’t be that hard to navigate,” he chuckles. You look around and throw your arms open. “How many times have we been here, though? I mean, look,” you point to a storefront, “that’s the weird little shop with the yellow writing in the window,” you point to another shop further up the way, “that’s the doll repair shop that’s super creepy but also quaint, like…” you trail off. “And over there’s the building with the spiral staircase around it, I know,” he sighs, finally admitting defeat. He glances around before nodding to a small restaurant a few steps away. “Let’s just get lunch for now, we’ll figure out the way later. I’m starving.” You scoff but nod. He leads the way into a dimly lit dining room with a large wood oven at the back, and the smell of fresh pasta surrounds you. 

Minhyuk

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to read a map,” Minhyuk scoffs, looking over the huge paper sprawled on the hood of the car. He pulled over the car fifteen minutes ago after figuring out that neither of you knew where you were going. “My apologies, I only grew up in the twenty first century. I didn’t expect I would ever need to,” you bite back, annoyed. You didn’t expect to lose cell reception either, but here you are, on a country road somewhere in the American Midwest. He cocks his head at you. Surely there would be a town nearby, but neither of you have ever been here before, so it’s difficult to tell. “This is what we get for deciding a good old-fashioned American road trip was a good idea,” Minhyuk mumbles, still staring at the map hopelessly. He wouldn’t admit it, but he never learned to read a road map either. A pickup truck finally comes over the horizon and eventually slows to a stop beside you. “You folks lost?” the gruff man at the wheel asks. “No, thanks,” Minhyuk replies dryly. The driver shrugs and speeds away. “Minhyuk!” You cry, eyes wide. “What? I figured it out, look, we’re here,” he points at a random stretch of road on the map. “Whatever,” you sigh, not believing him. “Get in. I’m driving this time!” You call over the car. 

Kihyun

 “Do you know the way back?” he slurs with a giggle. Maybe you two did have too much wine with dinner, after all.  “No, but it’s Paris, let’s just walk and see where it takes us,” you wrap yourself around him. He kisses you right as rain starts falling and you both cry out laughing. “Come here, I’ll protect you,” he holds you against his side, throwing his jacket open and holding the side of it over your head. You explode into giggles before pointing up at a white marble tower ahead, lit up from all sides. You gasp. “What is that?” You stop, staring. “Not the Eiffel tower, I can tell you that,” he replies. You pause in the rain, pulling out your phone to get a picture, hoping it comes out as well as you want it to. “Hey, there’s the metro!” Kihyun exclaims proudly. “Found it!” He grins. You run through the rain into the warm underground. The next morning, when you look at the pictures you took, they’re all blurred by rain and light, but you smile, finding the atmosphere captured perfectly.

Hyungwon

Hyungwon had wanted to see a DJ’s set at a music festival while you wanted to catch one of your favorite bands. You’d agreed to go your separate ways and meet up later for the last set of the night - the headliner. There was a path cut through the crowd to get from one stage to another, and you’d agreed to meet near the headliner’s stage. When you got there, however, Hyungwon was nowhere in sight. You paced around the path, looking around, until a security guard shooed you, saying no one was to stay in the ‘circulation lane’. You shrugged and went around to the other side of the gate, standing on the edge of it to try to see over everyone’s heads. “Step down from there,” the same guard barks at you. “I’m trying to find someone,” you snap, annoyed, but step down. You check your phone and Hyungwon is trying to find you too, so you call him. “Hey, where are you?” he asks the second he picks up. “I’m at the circulation thing, behind the big fountain,” you turn to look at the fountain, lasers from the stage ahead beaming into the water. “Oh, shit, that’s not where I am, wait,” with that he hangs up. You see the guard further down, facing away, so you climb the gate again, looking around. “I told you to get down from there,” the guard rushes back, screaming. An arm wraps around your waist from behind and you’re ready to elbow whoever it is before you spin and find Hyungwon pulling you down. “Woah, just me!” he exclaims, laughing, “Someone piss you off?” You nod at the security guard. Hyungwon gives him a quick glare but grins, pulling you away. “You shouldn’t argue with the security. You know they can actually kick you out?” He chuckles, giving you a quick kiss on the side of your head. “I know,” you pout, “I was just worried. I couldn’t find you.”

Jooheon

“I literally can’t believe we got lost. Like, I can’t believe it,” Jooheon was repeating for the millionth time. You laughed. “Don’t laugh,” he looked at you, “we were literally at a neighbour’s house. How are we lost?” he asked incredulously. “We just moved into the neighbourhood, I’m sure if we just keep walking we’ll find something,” you laughed again. The neighbours had invited you over as a sort of reverse-housewarming. Normally, you didn’t talk to neighbours much, but this was the first house you’d bought together, and you hoped it would be a long-term thing. Getting along with neighbours was key, plus they were actually pretty cool; they had dogs. The sun had long set and you looked up at the stars you had never been able to see from the city. Gazing down, you found a park and ran to it. “Where are you going?” Jooheon shouted after you. “Come on,” you cried back with a grin. You hurried to the swing set and sat. There was no more efficient way to bring on a wave of nostalgia. Jooheon chuckled as he came to sit on the swing beside you. “Are we teenagers sharing feelings?” he asked. “We can be,” you offered. There was a comfortable silence before he spoke.  “We shouldn’t stay here too long, it’s getting late and we don’t actually know where we are.” “Listen,” you lent an ear to the distance and he did the same. “What am I hearing?” he asked. “A boulevard. If we walk toward it, we’ll find our street.” “Ah, see, that’s why I love you,” he replied. “Supernatural hearing?” you giggled. He nodded wisely.

Changkyun

Changkyun was looking around, clearly worried, which did nothing to ease the stress and exhaustion you felt. You’d gone to a club for Halloween, and it was fun, everyone was dressed up. The atmosphere was perfect, the music was even good which almost never happens, but now it was almost 4 AM. You were in a short dress and it was freezing cold even after Changkyun had sacrificed his jacket for you. He was walking around in nothing but a long-sleeved shirt, his nose rosy from the cold. You felt bad, but you were still shivering violently, so you didn’t say anything. “Look, the last bus should be here any minute, we’re gonna have to hurry,” he said finally. You nodded. He grabbed your hand and lead you to the bus stop, a few street corners away. There was a spot on the bench in the shelter and you hurried to it because, to top it all off, it was starting to rain. Other people huddled around the bus stop, some of them loud, some of them obviously drunk or high. Changkyun stood in front of you in the bus shelter and sighed, looking at the time on his phone. Any minute now. You turned to some guys who were obnoxiously loud. You were seriously drained, you wished you could spawn into your warm bed; anything was annoying to you at that point. You started to stand, prepared to give them a piece of your mind - it was late and they should be respectful of the fact that there were others around - but Changkyun held you by the shoulder and sat you back down. “It’s not worth it, babe. We’ll be home soon, okay?” he murmured. You nodded and looked out at the street, spotting the bus in the distance. “Oh, thank god,” you whispered, hurrying to the curb.

[kariachi]

Next up it Speed of Sound, because if I may be honest I don’t actually like renaissance faire storylines. I don’t enjoy them, I don’t have to watch them, if the Smythe episode is relevant let me know but otherwise if you want a liveblog and rating than you can pay me for it.

Until then, on to Speed of Sound.

Max has a friend named ‘Helen Troy’. Her parents knew what they were doing.

She has her own corporation, and designed the fancy futurey train they’re riding.

She also made an AI Ring which, I have no idea what that’s even supposed to be? Is it HAL but an accessory, what?

She was Phil’s apprentice. As if she didn’t look shady, and have a corporation which is always shady, and have HAL as an accessory which is, not even, but she’s Phil’s old apprentice. This woman cannot be trusted.

Even Phil said ‘keep an eye on her’! Even he don’t trust this bitch!

The AI Ring is a fucking watch too just, the fuck

Hello Decibel, nice to see your silhouette you tend to be amusing

Bitch if your company’s tagline has to be ‘Trust Us’-! Not as far as I could punt her, I swear

Also my research tells me that the sound barrier has already been broken on land though I suppose a passenger train that could do it would still be a big deal given the rocket sled that first managed it jumped the rails. Second vehicle to do it was a car so, entirely different situation. The thing is this train would need dedicated tracks and so much fucking power just to run at those speeds. Shit cannot be energy efficient. Plus they’d only be able to move that fast for relatively short periods anyway to avoid causing too much discomfort for passengers (think of the discomfort you feel with the acceleration to the low hundreds of mph when a plane takes off then compare it to the ~800 mph to break the sound barrier). This really is just not a convenient thing.

Gustav Pootknocker. I have to assume a line of bastards because nobody is going to take the name ‘Pootknocker’.

Someday Gwen is going to be That Bitch @ing CEOs and politicians on twitter and honestly all the power to her. Right now she’s just asking intense questions out of innocence and interest but someday...

She scared off Helen! Way to go, Gwen!

“I thought she was different” Gwen the tech nerd with the most integrity on this show is Kevin, okay, lose your hope now.

“Helen’s not normally so mysterious” ‘I mean she straight up gave me the recipe for her ‘babies and blood diamonds’ dip when she graduated college’

Also Max has a picture of himself and Phil at Helen’s graduation so Added Suspicion

They can say she’s just Gwen’s hero all they want but I recognize a 10-yo with a crush when I see one. Move on Gwen, you can do better and also she’s like 20 years older than you at best.

Decibel is having the train modified in fucking motion. Really dude?

Of course Decibel would insist on having a dance club on board.

Gwen stole a dude’s keycard. The boys are rubbing off on her

Decibel have you hooked yourself to the train? Because that cable coming out your back has me concerned

byw I am not four minutes into this episode

Gwen, darling, give up turn around and find a girl your own age, I’m sure there’s plenty worth your while.

Helen has realized that they are Max’s spawn

So, tl;dr: Investors looked at this whole ‘passenger train that breaks the sound barrier’ thing and went ‘wtf that would be hideously expensive to build, to fuel, to build infrastructure for, and overall just be horribly inconvenient’ so Helen had to turn to Decibel for funding because he’s the sort’ve guy who figures if worse comes to worse he can use it for a ransom plot

Wait is this thing fueled by sound, or am I just reading too far into shit?

He did hook himself up the train. And now he’s gonna test the top speed with passengers onboard. Which, why the fuck would you even have passengers on board a train that hasn’t gone through all it’s tests? What the fuck, that’s a major safety hazard. This things can’t even have been rated as safe yet without testing it at top speed, that’s one of the things they do!

Don’t think we’ve seen a fistfight with Decibel before

1) Decibel hits like a truck, 2) I don’t think this fucker is capable of not acting like he’s on a stage

Damn, blasted Ben right out of the train

Helen, dig out that last scrap of soul you have in your closet and put it to use

Oh! So that’s how she’d planned to get over the whole ‘jumping the rails’ issue! By using sound to basically levitate the train! That actually cuts down on a lot of the concerns by reducing drag and removing the need for dedicated infrastructure! Still horribly dangerous though.

I didn’t have any hope in Helen and I’m still disappointed.

Capable of evil maybe, she is Phil’s apprentice

Come on Ben, I’m sure you can go faster. You and Kevin hit 888 before

Helen

“Even supersuit XLR8 can’t catch up!” Ben says as he barely crests 400 mph. Come on Kid, you’ve done better!

Ah, turns out with some new shit armored XLR8 can hit 1000

Ya know, I’d be more impressed with this whole ‘your technology has helped so many people’ thing if we’d gotten any examples up to now. All we have is the HAL ring and this death train, with no hint at what the ring even does (it saves the day, I’ve seen enough tv to know this is where we’re going)

The HAL Ring has a laser mode. Who exactly are you selling this shit to, Helen? Are you sure super villains aren’t just your investors?

Ooo, Decibel going to just try to rip off the damn Omnitrix. He is done.

Omnitrix said ‘fuck this shit’ and blasted Ben into Armored Four Arms

The Omnitrix is not happy

Yeah, Omnitrix is really not happy with all that shit that went down.

8/10, I don’t trust Helen and I’m intrigued with how things are going to go with the Omnitrix from here

[triple-a-enderdragon]

How many times can you say the clock is ticking? Because now it’s

TWO MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT

First | Previous | Next

Biffa was living. The rush of battle was one he'd missed, even if he had felt it not that long ago. It was too long, in his opinion. He never thought it was fair that Python and especially Iskall got to face world hoppers. But at the same time, he trusted False's judgment enough to follow her direction. The thrill of the fights she did leave to him were well worth it.

In his anticipation for the next skirmish, he almost missed False's signal, pointing him to where their target was.

Landing in the torch-lit clearing, Biffa took in two things: Grian was alive, if a bit worse for wear; and his assailant had their back exposed. Swiftly crossing the clearing, he laid into the intruder, leaving a deep rent in their back. Biffa was a bit surprised they didn't drop, and followed through with a vicious blow to the head. That did the trick.

"Grian." False had also crossed the clearing to check on the builder. "Are you badly hurt?"

"Nothing that's too serious. I'd managed to avoid most of it," Grian said, checking himself over. Sure enough, he had a cut on his left arm and a nasty bruise developing on one cheek.

False gingerly brushed the bruise. "You took a head blow," she said. "A visit to Joe, if he's still awake, would be a good idea. When you're done with that, Impulse wants you to go to Tango's base."

"Tango's base? Did he say why?"

"He did not. I'm sure you'll find out when you get there."

Biffa interrupted them. "It's gotten dark. Mobs will start spawning, and I don't want to be here when they do."

False looked at him, amused. "You had no problem fighting just now."

"Yes, against a limited foe." Biffa looked her in the eye. "I remember the dangers of a hardcore world, mobs being the biggest one." He knew she did too. She nodded and wordlessly took to the skies, leaving Grian and Biffa to follow.

~~~

"Well, I would advise you from doing anything too ridiculous, but I've heard what you have to do tomorrow. Ridiculous definitely, even a bit cliché." Joe looked at Grian, then at Cub. "Then again, we can't have Concorp at half capacity, can we? Besides, I do want to see this for myself, seems delightfully absurd."

Grian looked a little confused, though it may have been the head injury. "What about Xisuma?"

Joe raised one eyebrow. Confused enough to say X's name more-or-less right. "Right! Can't forget about him. Anyway, I'm sure you're needed elsewhere to restore balance to the scales," he said as he herded Grian out of the Ministry. "Thanks for stopping by, Grian. It can get lonely with only the undead and the actual dead as company."

"Is Cleo the only one visiting? Shouldn't you get out more?"

"I understand your concern, but— while I'm no Scar— I'm no stranger to death. I'd rather stay in relative safety until I can risk being surprised by a creeper again."

Watching Grian go, Joe's thoughts wandered to a certain person intimately linked to death. He would have to see if Cleo was interested in watching what would unfold. And, Joe admitted, he would be too scared to do so alone.

~~~

There was only so much of the Nether that Python was willing to take at one time, and he felt he was getting mighty close to that limit. He'd already spent quite a bit of time gathering quartz for his ambitious builds in Tower Bay over the last few months.

Gathering quartz turned out to be the distraction he and Iskall set out for themselves. Keeping a watch on the temperature, they were able to ignore the frustration and unease with their situation. A careful trip to the gold farm kept their gear and tools in top shape. Food was not yet a concern, water was managed through the careful melting of ice.

The pigmen turned out to be less of a threat than the two thought; the hostiles still swarmed on sight, but always seemed to get distracted long enough for Iskall and Python to make a hasty escape.

So they mined quartz. Hours passed, with rests intermittent, before they found another problem.

Iskall was in front of the array of double chests, laden with quartz, trying to find space for the latest haul. He wasn't finding any. Rubbing his left eye, he walked to his ender chest and started looking for some wood. Which he didn't find. He looked at Python, also rummaging around his ender chest. "Python?" he asked.

"Hm?"

"You have any wood, by chance? I'm all out, and I need some for more chests."

Python's rummaging increased, shulker boxes opening and closing, before he said, "No, sorry man. I'm out as well."

"Dang it! I guess I'll be carrying around a bunch of quartz."

"You don't have any empty shulker boxes, or any empty spaces, at least?"

Iskall scanned his ender chest again. "Well, there's a bit of space, but still not enough. Ah, that's fine, at least I have some inventory space now," he said as he put the now full shulker box into his ender chest.

"If you're up for it, we should take one last trip to the gold farm," Python said. "Some of my gear's running low."

Iskall, feeling a headache coming on, said the wrong thing. "Yeah, I'm up for it."

~~~

Tango spent almost an hour, pacing his base, listening for the rockets that would signal Grian's approach. Since he and Impulse learned where the winged man was, they were on edge; even more than they already were. It wasn't until Grian landed in front of him with nary a whisper, startling him to the high heavens, that Tango remembered.

"Grian! You can't do that to me, man! Give a hoot or something, you about gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry about that; I forget how silently I fly now," Grian said sheepishly.

"It certainly woke me up." Tango was about to brief Grian, but he saw the colorful bruise Grian was sporting. "Oh, ow. That looks like it hurts. Didn't get out of the skirmish unscathed, huh?"

Grian poked at the bruise, wincing. "No, but frankly, I'm lucky it's not worse. By the way, what are we doing? It has something to do with the Nether, I hope?"

At this, Tango was all business. "Yes. The thing we need is at X's base, coincidentally. Stress and TFC are already there."

"What's going to happen?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I'm just going with the flow here, man." Tango was very unsure of himself, but continued, "When it gets down to it, I'll know."

As they look to the skies, Grian looked unconvinced.

~~~

If anyone was near the stock exchange, they would have heard shouting. A lot of it. As it happened, "anyone" turned out to be Mumbo, heading to the shopping district for some last-minute supplies.

He stuck his head into the station and, in between the bursts of surprisingly expletive-free fury, said, "Doc? You ok in here?"

A pause, a concerning crash, and Doc huffed his way into view. "Everything's fine."

Mumbo didn't take his hint and came closer, hopping the turnstile easily. "It doesn't sound like it. Besides, I asked if you were ok, and you didn't answer."

If looks could kill, the redstone contraption in the corner would have exploded. Mumbo briefly wondered if, with a few tweaks, Doc's eye could produce that effect. Or something similar. But it didn't, and the redstone build stayed in one piece. Doc sighed and walked over to an overturned shulker box spilling comparators, droppers, and other redstone bits and bobs over the floor.

As he shoved all the items back in the shulker box, he said, "Something is going on. Something's happening to me." He pointed at the build in the corner. "You know what that's supposed to be?"

Mumbo walked over to it and inspected the innards of it. Not even half a minute had passed before he answered, "I would think it would produce a sort of vending machine effect. Is that what you were going for?"

"Yes! It's supposed to dispense one stack of ender pearls or cookies when a diamond is deposited, but something is always wrong. Either the wrong item is dispensed, the wrong amount is, nothing happens; I know what's wrong each time. I fix it each time. But something else always pops up!" After a pause, Doc said, "I don't know what to do, and I'm at my wit's end here."

Now that Mumbo knew what Doc was trying to achieve, it took him all of a minute to find and fix the problem. He went back in front and said, "Try it now."

Doc put a diamond in the input chest and pressed the ender pearl button. He then stared at Mumbo in resignation as sixteen ender pearls hit him in the chest one by one.

"I guess it works now."

Doc kept staring at him. "What was it?"

"The timing of one repeater was off, giving only a partial stack," Mumbo answered, a bit concerned.

Doc placed a hand on the vending machine, lights flickering on his cybernetics. "I don't understand. Every time I fixed the timings..."

"Well, it's all working now. Really neat design, by the way."

"Heh. Thanks. Are you going to the event happening soon?"

"Yeah," Mumbo said, "I have to really see this stuff to believe it; this whole Elemental thing. I would say it's exciting, but..." He stopped. "Anyway, are you going?"

"No. I've got a bad feeling about it. Besides, I have," Doc looked down the tunnel, "other things to do."

"Well, good luck with those. Hopefully, they're not as stubborn as the vending machine," Mumbo said as he prepared to leave. "I'll see you around, mate."

As he left, he saw a curious scene: Doc, standing in the middle of the rail line, didn't seem to hear him. Staring down the tunnel, he was muttering and scratching his right arm. Mumbo didn't know what to make of it, and so took his leave.

Shopping driven from his mind, he had somewhere to be.

"Something's happening to me."

~~~

Getting to the gold farm was never as bad as getting back from it. Every hermit had forgotten to reequip their elytra at least once, some more than others.

Knowing this, Iskall and Python took extra care to double and triple check, to cross-verify, that both had their elytra equipt.

However, every time Iskall went to descend, something stopped him. He couldn't really explain it, like some internal force keeping him rooted to one spot. And the fear. There was nothing to be afraid of, he knew. He could hear the distant sound of Python, next to him, trying to get his attention. But it wasn't as loud as the voice.

Do not jump.

Iskall never saw the ghast.

~~~

Impulse was waiting; if you could call it that. Grian and Tango had arrived about an hour ago, and the latter said he needed to wait for the sun's zenith before he could continue. Impulse had asked what the zenith had to do with anything, Tango couldn't answer him. Said it was a 'gut feeling'. And since Impulse couldn't speed up the sun, he waited.

Various hermits had filtered in over the past hour. Zedaph was there, giving much-needed moral support to Impulse and Tango. False and Wels were ready to jump into X's Nether portal as soon as they were able. Mumbo had given Impulse a thumbs up when he arrived, too anxious to speak.

A few hermits weren't there. Joe, Cleo, and Scar were at the Ministry watching over Cub. Biffa, Jevin, Doc, and Ren all said they weren't coming, and Impulse didn't blame them. If he didn't have to be here, he most likely wouldn't be here.

Impulse heard movement; Tango was showing the other three 'avatars' to their corresponding spots around the altar. Stress to the North, Grian to the East, TFC to the West, and Tango himself to the South. They were interrupted by a buzz from their comms–

iskall85 fell from a high place

–and the world exploded into brilliant diamond blue light.

[flamegatorwrites]

Lavender (jotaro x kakyoin)

Jotaro and Kakyoin haven't seen each other in over ten years, but Joseph and the Duwang Gang try to fix that.

[a/n: I just wanted some fluffy jotakak ok]

It had been 11 years since Dio's brutal defeat in Egypt. 11 years since he'd last seen Kakyoin outside of blurry Polaroids he got in the mail, sent from the name Tenmei Kakyoin. 11 years since he'd fallen in love.

The letters were the only thing keeping him going at first. He didn't know if it was really his best friend sending them, but who else would? Nobody else knew his stage name he would sign his art with. Nobody else could know the things they wrote each other about, the things they talked about on the hot Egyptian nights with the sheets tangled around them all those years ago.

That was how he found out that Noriaki Kakyoin was still alive.

Jotaro always took a letter with him anywhere he went. At first it was so he didn't forget the mailing address on his long business trips, so he could write to Kakyoin from whatever hotel he was staying in. But it had become a habit of his to have a letter with him at all times, probably because he felt a strange sense of comfort reaching into one of his pockets and feeling one of the envelopes tucked neatly inside. Almost like the feeling when Kakyoin would reach out and give his hand a squeeze when the other crusaders were distracted picking out hotel rooms and such.

He held one in his hand now, fidgeting with the slightly ripped corner of the envelope. He'd just opened this letter the morning before, right before he'd gotten a call from the old man to go to Morioh as soon as he possibly could. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come up with a valid reason for the old man to call him back to this town. Anything was possible, though, and for all he knew Joseph could've been doing all this in an elaborate scheme to fuck with him.

Jotaro watched from the taxi cab window as the rain beat down upon the Earth. The driver drove like a bat out of hell, managing to swerve and hit every large puddle he found. They were on the outskirts of Morioh now, the sparse buildings growing closer towards each other the longer they drove.

"So what brings you back to Morioh? Business or pleasure?"

He glanced up at the rearview mirror, meeting the crazed taxi driver's eyes. It was the same man who drove him last time, he'd noticed. Or was it? He couldn't tell, a but he wasn't too keen on fighting yet another stand user in this town.

"Hopefully pleasure," he sighed, "but I shouldn't count on that too much."

The man chuckled and pulled into the parking lot of the Morioh Grand Hotel. Joseph, Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi stood outside. They looked... suspicious.

Jotaro glared out the window. They were obviously trying  way too hard to act naturally. Koichi sat on a bench with an upside down opened book in his hands. Okuyasu and Josuke, well... they were taking turns flexing at each other, barely holding a straight face. Joseph just looked disappointed, a hand covering his face as he seemingly tried to hide his embarrassment.

As he stepped out of the car, they all made eye contact with him and smiled.

"You're hiding something," he deadpanned. "Tell me what it is."

"Well," Josuke glanced over at Joseph, "We already got you a hotel room!"

"Yeah, you can just go straight up there," Okuyasu giggled. "You don't have to check in!"

"Old man, tell me what's going on."

Joseph sighed loudly, giving a warning glance to the two boys. Okuyasu tossed Jotaro the plastic card key and pulled Josuke and Koichi behind a large, decorative bush.

"There's another stand user here, and..."

Jotaro was getting annoyed. He knew they were hiding something, he just couldn't figure out what it was. For all he knew, they could have captured a live crocodile and left it in there for him to stumble upon. They all seemed to share one brain cell, and that brain cell was not good at lying.

"And what?"

"He's in the hotel room. We think that he may have some important information that you could use."

To be honest, Jotaro didn't know what to expect. The chances they actually did capture another stand user were high, but this was Joseph Joestar, his spawn, and said spawn's friends. There's no way they would be this giddy about another damned stand user.

He hesitantly trudged towards the main entrance of the hotel room, the other four men following behind him. As soon as he stepped into the hotel, he knew something was off. He felt a strange sense of calm, the warmth inside of the hotel luring him further inside. The only thing he was worried about was the quiet giggling coming from two of the four idiots behind him.

He pressed the button to the elevator and it opened almost immediately. He stepped inside and held onto the railing on the wall, making room for the absolute children shuffling in behind him. He knew there probably wasn't any real threat. Hell, knowing Joseph, he probably had a very drunk Polnareff dressed up like Marilyn Monroe again.

Before he knew it, the elevator doors were opened and he was leading a herd of clowns behind him. At this point, he knew it would be something that would probably backfire and hurt him (as it always did). He didn't bother to try interrogating them anymore, it wouldn't do any good. They may have been terrible at being serious, but god were they hard to read, especially for a bunch of... well, idiots.

He found the room that was printed on the small plastic card. Room 418. Before sliding the card into the slot, he gave the four a warning glance. Star was practically begging to come out, to beat the living shit out of whatever was waiting for him, but he held back.

They all watched intently as he unlocked the door, his hands shaking slightly. As soon as he opened the door, he felt something constrict around his throat. He closed his eyes and summoned Star.

He opened his eyes, expecting a fairly large snake to be wrapped around him. Instead, he found a large, green, tentacle-esque thing that he almost didn't recognize. The grip loosened and he was released onto the floor. He fell to his knees, watching as the stand recoiled around a pair of long, slender legs.

"JoJo?"

He cautiously looked up, his eyes meeting the one and only Noriaki Kakyoin's. His wavy red hair was tied up in a ponytail, his signature red bangs hung in front of one of his eyes. A set of thin framed glasses sat crooked on his nose, and the scars- which were almost concealed by shimmery, green eyeshadow- around his lavender eyes had faded to a milky white color. He looked exactly the same, yet so different. But Jotaro was still as amazed by his beauty as he was all those years ago. 

"Nori..."

Kakyoin dropped down to his knees and wrapped his arms around Jotaro in a bone-crushing hug. Jotaro hugged back, burying his face into his old flame's white trench coat. He still smelled the same, he still felt the same, after all these years. He was still the same old Kakyoin. He typically hated physical contact. He felt like it was invading and weird, and he just didn't understand why people would want to be so close to each other. Hell, he didn't even like being intimate with his ex wife. But it was like he understood everything in that moment, as the man he fell in love with practically squeezed the life out of him. He felt secure, he felt home. He didn't want to leave Kakyoin's embrace.

"Is anybody crying?" Okuyasu interrupted. "I have a bet to win."

Kakyoin pulled back, much to Jotaro's dismay, and placed his hands on Jotaro's cheeks. Tears slowly began to fall, but Kakyoin wiped them away with his thumbs.

"I thought you were in Florida," Kakyoin whispered. "Did they tell you I was here?"

"Actually, he didn't," Joseph announced. "You two haven't seen each other in, what was it, ten years? If you didn't meet up soon, we knew you'd never find the time to. So we all planned this."

"Yeah!" Josuke cheered. "We wanted you guys to see each other, because Okuyasu and I see each other every day and we're, like, best bros! We couldn't imagine what it would be like for you guys to not see each other for ten whole years!"

Jotaro looked behind him, all four of them beaming as if they had done the impossible. They probably had, honestly. Kakyoin's art career kept him travelling all over the world, and Jotaro's seminars had always conveniently taken place in areas Kakyoin had either just left or hadn't been yet. Neither of their hectic schedules allowed them to see each other, so they had just come to accept that.

"Alright guys, we should give them some privacy," Koichi piped up. They all nodded in agreement and went back to the elevator. Joseph sent a not-so-subtle wink in Kakyoins direction, getting a soft chuckle in response.

Kakyoin stood up and held his hand out to Jotaro. He took it and used the wall to hoist himself off the rough carpet. His hand was lightly calloused, more than likely from all the art he'd made in the past ten years. He was working on a manga, if he remembered correctly, and he'd finally found a company that would publish it a few weeks ago.

Jotaro's eyes met Kakyoin's once again. Kakyoin smiled and fixed his crooked glasses.

"They told me they needed my help discussing the possibility of a stand user while I was here," he said. "They said to wait here and make sure nobody came in while they went for drinks. Somehow none of them realized I wasn't falling for Joseph's stupid idea.

"Have you forgotten that the old man is full of stupid ideas?"

"Yeah... I'm sorry I choked you."

"I'm sorry I scared you."

Jotaro lightly touched his neck; he knew it would be sore within an hour or so. Kakyoin was strong way back then, so his strength probably matched Star Platinum's by now.

"So," Kakyoin sighed. He sat down on a nearby sofa, patting the spot next to him. "What did they tell you?"

Jotaro shrugged his white coat off and tossed it onto the table, where Kakyoin put his. He sat down next to the redhead and rolled his eyes.

"They said there was an enemy stand user in this room and I needed to get information out of him. I didn't believe a second of it, but..."

He couldn't think of what to say, really. The fact that Joseph could get him to drop everything and come to Morioh really was incredible; but they'd been trying to see each other for ten years, and Kakyoin simply wasn't able to stay in one place long enough.

"But what?"

"But I just wanna know how those idiots managed to get you here."

"Actually, they didn't. I had an art show here, and I happened to bump into Joseph and his son. God, they look just alike."

Jotaro smiled. They'd both seen old photos of Joseph from his teenage years. He pulled them out of his wallet while he was drunk at some bar on their way to Egypt. He was babbling about how he 'roped in' Jotaro's grandmother, and how he 'still had it' after 50 years. Josuke was almost the spitting image of his father back then.

"So you'll be gone again soon?"

"Yeah," Kakyoin sighed. "I have three days until my next show in Milan. It's crazy how these people make me jump around from place to place. I have the money to quit, I just... I don't know..."

"You know you could just take a break. I've got an apartment in Florida- you could come stay there, you could meet Jolyne. She's a huge fan of your art, by the way. She loves when I show her the pictures you send me."

"Tell me about her," he hummed.

"She's just... she's incredible. She's almost eight, now. She's beautiful, just like her mother. She's got my attitude though, and I honestly feel sorry for my mom now. She loves butterflies, she wants to be one when she grows up."

"I'd love to meet her," he said. "I'd love to come and visit, it's just- well, my art shows have kept me so fucking busy, JoJo."

Jotaro felt Kakyoin's hand on his own. He glanced downwards to see Kakyoin's slender fingers fidgeting with his wedding ring. He and his wife had divorced about a year ago. He only wore the ring for Jolyne, even if he did only see her about twice a month. It was the only thing keeping her from hating him, he thought.

"Are you happy?"

"I have to be," he whispered. "I've got money, fans who look up to me... Hell, I've met David Bowie! I can't be unhappy."

Kakyoin laced their fingers together, he was staring at the ring now. Jotaro felt one of heirophant's tendrils wrap around his wrist.

"Tell me, Jotaro," he croaked. "Do you still feel the same as you did back then?"

Of course he did. He didn't know how, or why, but he'd never gotten over Kakyoin. He was

"Do you?" Jotaro replied. He didn't want Kakyoin to leave because of his feelings. He didn't want to lose whatever they had. He felt heirophant's grip tighten. It didn't hurt- it was quite pleasant, honestly.

"Answer the question."

He finally understood why Kakyoin was asking him this. He'd gotten married and had a child with a woman he barely even knew. He probably thought Jotaro didn't love him in the first place. He probably thought he was just a burden, and as soon as he almost died Jotaro could escape and finally be with someone he really loved.

He was pressured into it, but Kakyoin didn't know that. Kakyoin didn't know about all the one night stands before his ex wife, just to get that red hair and those violet eyes out of his head. Kakyoin didn't know about all the nights he'd spent contemplating whether he should tell his wife about his sexuality or not, about how he was in love with the famous Tenmei Kakyoin- no, not Tenmei Kakyoin. Tenmei Kakyoin was an eccentric man with a mysterious past, who hid his feelings behind designer coats and expensive paints. He wasn't in love with that man. He was in love with Noriaki Kakyoin.

"Yes."

Before he knew it, Kakyoin's lips were pressed against his. Jotaro's hands found their way to Kakyoin's hips. He tasted like mint and cherry, something so familiar yet so new, it was almost the same as it was when they were young and dumb and all over each other back in their teenage years.

Kakyoin bit Jotaro's lip playfully, earning a surprised yelp from the larger man. His hands trailed up Kakyoin's sides, accidentally pushing something out of the pocket on his black pants.

"Ora!"

Jotaro sighed, glaring at Star Platinum. He held back this whole time, but the minute he and Kakyoin actually get somewhere he shows up.

Jotaro looked at what Star had picked up off the ground and gasped, playfully. It was a package of cigarettes, the same brand he used to smoke when he was younger.

"Nori!" Jotaro chuckled. "I thought you hated my bad habits!"

"I never said that," Kakyoin blushed.

"Oh, JoJo, that cigarette smells sooo bad! JoJo, could you please put that cigarette out!"

Jotaro continued to mimic the smaller man in a high pitched voice, poking him in the sides and causing him to laugh ferociously.

"Okay, so I may have picked it up," he sighed, laying his head down on Jotaro's chest. He ran his fingers through the now messy bright red locks; they were almost a hot pink now, he'd noted. "I missed you so much after my recovery, so I just started, and I didn't stop."

They sat in silence for a while. Jotaro kept playing with Kakyoin's hair- it was something he enjoyed when they were younger, Jotaro would do it when Kakyoin couldn't sleep in that damned hospital.

He thought about what would've happened if Kakyoin would've actually died. He probably wouldn't be here right now. He'd probably be stuck in a dead end marriage, he'd probably hate all the other crusaders, he probably wouldn't be alive.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you, Noriaki."

"Y'know," Kakyoin yawned, "a break doesn't sound too bad."

"So does that mean you'll come?"

"I dunno," he said. "This is pretty tempting, though."

Jotaro smiled, for what seemed like the first time in years. He felt truly happy like this. He didn't believe in God, but he silently prayed that it would stay like this forever.

[stormquill]

One Equal Temper | chapter three [V/Reader]

As hell itself wreaks havoc upon your city, an angel lands on your doorstep—one who doesn’t seem to realize he has wings.

Author’s Notes: Follow the blog @one-equal-temper.

Notes: Touch-starved V time? Touch-starved V time.

V stares at the violin.

He stares at it for a very long time.

The instrument was beautiful: 4/4, full-sized, made from a polished, glossy brown wood which was now reflecting light from the early morning rays. There were no fingerprints or nail scratches along its neck, nor was there any wear on the chin rest; the only indication it had ever been touched at all were the three strips of masking tape spaced out near the end of the neck, marking basic finger positions for a beginner.

Whoever owned the instrument had been learning how to play.

Griffon flew into the vacant apartment where V had taken refuge.

“You were right,” he said, perching along the balcony railing, “broken locks on every floor. Must’ve turned the whole damn building upside-down looking for that thing.”

“But why waste the time?”

“Only you would figure someone doin’ you a favour is a waste of time.”

“Cruelty knits a snare and spreads his baits with care.”

“Or—here’s a crazy friggin’ thought—maybe they were just being nice.”

V lifted the bow from the violin case. On instinct, his fingers fell around the end of it in perfect positioning, his hands full of memories that did not belong to his body. “Perhaps returning here was not such a good idea.”

“You’re killin’ me, V, you know that?” Griffon scowled. “May I remind you that you’re the one who hasn’t told the human why we’re here, yet? Who’s really ‘cruelty with a snare,’ here, huh?”

V tensed. At once, Griffon could feel him bristling, a sudden rush of static in the air that whipped the demonic familiar back to humility.

“Uh-oh, did I hit a nerve?” Griffon gave an apprehensive little chuckle. “Sorry, boss. Didn’t mean anything by it. You and me, we’re in this together. I’m behind you whatever you wanna do. Even if that means not showering for another week.”

Keeping silent, V twisted the screw at the bottom of the bow to tighten it. He retrieved the chunk of rosin from a pocket inside the violin case, and glided the small amber brick along the now-taut length of horsehair strings.

From the moment he was given life, V had conceptualized himself as half of a whole, the opposite side of Urizen’s coin that minted the currency of Vergil. Every waking moment was dedicated to a paradox, righting wrongs that were somehow both his own, and not his own. But you, in all of your panicked, twitchy, lone-survivor glory, ended up showing him a kindness he hadn’t come to expect of anyone before or since.

Such gestures were afforded to the living, and living was not the reason for V’s existence.

(What would you think of him if you knew the real reason he knocked on your door?)

Your unexpected gift was based on the ghosts of his memory, an unintentional parallel to the contradiction of his own reality—V knew how to play the violin, but at the same time, he had never held one in his hands.

You said you missed music.

Could he give you that much?

Standing at the balcony, V rested the violin on his shoulder and drew the bow across the strings, adjusting the pegs every so often until the notes of his scales felt proper.

“Soundin’ a little flat there, Shakespeare.”

“It may require further tuning.”

V could sense your presence in the neighboring apartment. You were around the corner, hiding from him, and that’s where he thought you would stay...until several minutes later, when you emerged onto your balcony holding two mugs of steaming liquid.

As your balconies were only an arm’s length from each other, you reached over your side’s edge to hand him his cup. He took it, and the brief, gentle caress of his fingers against yours marked the first physical contact with you he’s ever had.

“It’s hot chocolate,” you said, shyly. “I remember you saying you liked chocolate, so...”

Another small token. Another kind gesture.

The feeling of your hand beneath his touch lingered long after you pulled away.

-

V came and went all hours of the day and night.

Military efforts to take back Red Grave did not seem to wane, in spite of their consistent, predictable failures. V helped as much as he could—clearing the most densely-infected pockets of the city, advising those in charge time and time again that traditional artillery would do nothing against the plague—but the armies continued to be sent in waves, as if throwing more bullets, more guns, more bodies at the problem would eventually prove itself a viable solution.

The stagnation was frustrating, but V couldn’t accomplish much by way of progress until Nero returned.

In the meantime, V strategically controlled clusters of demon spawn before the herds became too much for him to handle alone. He tore down creeping Qliphoth roots to prevent them from branching outside city bounds. He fought alongside military personnel whenever he found them, until they fell back or were wiped out trying.

Through it all, he cannot keep his mind from the memory of his fingers against yours.

The walk back to the apartment building became his respite, the six-floor climb up the fire escape as good a reprieve as any. Regardless of the day’s events, regardless of whether or not he had yet slept, he would go out to his balcony and pick up the violin, every morning without fail. Playing for you was like rousing a bird from its nest. You would be drawn out by his melody, curious and weary, and you would listen.

You would not ask him where he had been. You would not ask him where he was going.

You would just listen.

A routine was birthed within this small sanctuary, a routine that started with music and ended with you reaching out to him, a warm mug in hand—sometimes tea, sometimes chocolate, depending on what you could find.

He ignored the way his pulse would quicken whenever your hands touched.

You were an indulgence, he rationalized.

Nothing more.

-

Shadow was growing unsettled, V could feel it.

Due to the nature of their contracts, inactivity would sometimes cause his familiars to grow restless, especially if one was being summoned more frequently than the others. As of late, Griffon had rarely been dismissed; if he wasn’t at V’s side in exploration or battle, he was in the apartment, napping on a pet bed he’d found in the corner and claimed for himself. Naturally, this made Shadow jealous.

There was no danger in calling upon Shadow outside of battle to appease her agitation. Though she was far more primal of a demon than Griffon was, she never acted out of alignment with V’s motives—his familiars were extensions of himself, which meant they were always in-tune with what he wanted.

So, when the panther burst forth from her sigils and ran out to V’s balcony to leap onto yours, to say V was surprised was an understatement.

He barely had time to process what had happened before he heard you screaming.

“Holy SHIT—NONONONONONONO—”

In the moments it took V and Griffon to reach you, you had already been pinned to the ground—you looked horrified as Shadow stood on top of you, nuzzling her face against yours hard enough to keep your head pressed firmly to the floor.

“What is happening?!” you shrieked, your voice shaking with terrified confusion.

Griffon wasted no time laughing his ass off.

Having a fully-grown black panther charge through your sixth-floor window was quite low on your list of expectations, but it didn’t take you long to regain your bearings.

You sat on your couch as Shadow loafed in your lap, the feline familiar big enough to take up all the remaining seats. Within minutes, you went from a state of shock to burying a cheek right into her fluff, using the vibrations of her deep purring to try and alleviate your perpetual headache.

You could tell something was wrong with V, be it from how he hadn’t moved from your balcony, or the expression of deep concern he wasn’t containing as well as he would’ve hoped. He was emanating an aura of unease you’d never felt from him before. You couldn’t shake off the feeling you’d done something wrong.

“So,” you started, trying to lighten the mood and getting a mouthful of fur in the process, “any other familiars I should know about?”

“...perhaps in due time.”

Griffon chuckled. “Oh man, you’re gonna love Nightmare.”

“Nightmare,” you repeated. If the giant demon bird was named ‘Griffon’ and the giant demon cat was named ‘Shadow,’ you tried to imagine what nature of creature ‘Nightmare’ could have been. Your overactive imagination combined with your chronic headache shorted out your brain. “Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.”

Shadow chuffed in your lap. You jumped at the noise.

V kept watch from afar, leaning heavily against his cane.

There had never before been such egregious dissonance between V’s expectations and Shadow’s actions. Shadow existed in light of V’s best interests—she acted on what he wanted—and though you were blissfully unaware of the implications, being confronted by the sight of his own longing disgraced him in a way he didn’t think possible.

His familiars were extensions of himself, after all.

Instead of Griffon, V imagined being bold enough to have visited you first.

Instead of Shadow, V imagined himself spread across your lap, your hands through his hair, you smiling down at him as you were now.

Only then did V realize the depth of the problem.

-

V did not touch his violin the following morning.

In his entertainment of idle pleasantries, he had forgotten himself, and why he was here. His purpose in life was to reunite with Urizen to become whole again, to salvage what remained of Red Grave, to earn some semblance of atonement by purifying what he himself had poisoned. He was a splintered fracture of Vergil—he was not meant to have desires of his own, as he was not his own.

He was not his own.

V yanked the length of his silver cane from the demon’s flesh, tossing its mangled carcass aside with graceful ease.

From the break of dawn to the glint of twilight, he made rounds throughout the city, reminding himself with every battle what he was responsible for unleashing upon the world. With the demons’ current respawn rate, he knew his efforts were an exercise in futility, but he continued the onslaught without pause, until every demon type in existence blurred together in a bloody palace of blades and wings and carapaces.

He would find catharsis. Eventually.

As he felt his vision blur and his power begin to wane, V unearthed a massive nest of dormant Furies, crowded behind a hidden wall of rubble and debris.

“V,” Griffon warned, still trying to catch his breath, “I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but we’ve been at this all damn day. You sure you wanna keep goin’?”

V’s hand tightened around his cane.

This is why he was here.

This is all he was good for.

-

It was curious to see where his legs had taken him without him knowing.

Griffon’s talons wrapped tight around V’s shoulders as he carried him over the fire escape railing. Shadow supported V’s lethargic landing on the metal grates, propping him upright with her own body. All three of them were covered in blood.

“Up and over,” Griffon groaned, dragging V in through the open window. “C’mon, kid, on your feet—”

V collapsed into the hallway, falling into a tangled heap on the ground.

“—alright, close enough.”

Shadow hopped in after him, once more letting V use her as leverage to stand until he could right himself with his cane.

Whatever came next was a haze.

Footsteps from down the hall. Muffled conversation. Someone rushing to his side, slinging his arm around their neck to support his weight and help him find his footing again, like a bird on his wings for too long.

Of course it was you.

Who else but you?

The two of you made it to his bed, eventually, and V landed on the mattress with a heavy sigh.

“Are you guys hurt??” you asked in a panic, looking over the blood on all three of them.

“Don’t freak out, gravedigger, the blood’s not ours.” Visibly frustrated, Griffon nestled on his bed atop the nightstand. “Shakespeare bit off more than he could chew tonight and now he’s payin’ for it.”

“I overexerted myself,” V corrected. “I simply need to rest.”

Your brows drew together. “You want me to just leave you like this?”

“I will be fine.”

“Let me help clean you off, at least.”

“I will take care of it in the morning.”

“Look—I know you’re pissed at me, but you’re not going to get any proper rest passing out in your own filth.”

The frustration in your voice was sobering. From your point of view, he had slighted you, somehow—yet, you were still seeking ways to help him.

“What makes you believe I am upset with you?” he asked in concern.

Confusion flickered across your face as you spoke. “When Shadow came over yesterday, you spent the whole time standing on my balcony looking like someone pissed in your cereal. And this morning—I made you tea, but you didn’t show up to our...”

You stopped yourself, not knowing what to call it.

“Rendezvous,” he offered.

“...yeah.”

“I am sorry for misleading you,” he said, softly. “I assure you, you have done nothing wrong—my quandaries are purely my own. There was an urgent...dilemma that required my attention.”

“Did you figure it out, at least?”

V turned to examine you, seeing one side of you stained red from where you held him as you helped him walk. The moment you saw he was in trouble, you had no reservations about getting blood all over yourself, and even now, you had no hesitation in getting even more of it on you. You had no idea you were at the heart of his predicament.

You had no idea of the predicament in his heart.

In the face of every apprehension sounding alarms within his head, V stood resolute, and asked precisely what he wanted to. “May I be so bold as to request your assistance?”

You lit up in surprise, and you nodded.

You pulled the bedroom chair towards his bedside and took a look at what you were dealing with. Upon closer examination, he wasn’t so much drenched in blood as he was heavily splattered, like he was on the losing end of a particularly nasty paintball ambush. He didn’t seem to have any injuries, but you didn’t know what an overnight soak in demon blood would do to a person, and you had no intention of finding out.

“I need to take your jacket off,” you said. “Is that okay?”

“Such polite bedside manner,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but he was pleased to notice the shade of red he brought to your cheeks. With steady hands, you untied the string at the front of his coat; he could feel your fingertips brush against his bare skin, and the contact made his stomach flip.

“Can you sit up for me?” you asked, not having noticed a thing.

Still exhausted, V trembled slightly as he lifted himself on his elbows and gathered the strength to follow your request—then your hand was on his back, above his coat, helping him move upright. Your other hand tucked along each collar bone, sliding his jacket from his shoulders, one arm at a time. You removed his glove and unclipped his bracelets from his wrist.

Then your hands were off him, again.

You left the room and returned with some supplies: a large bowl of water, several small towels, and a flashlight you stood up on a nearby table to cast light towards the ceiling and illuminate the room.

You rolled up your sleeves and pushed your hair back before setting to work.

With V covered in his mess and his familiars as soiled as he was, the bedroom was thick with the stench of demon blood, rotten and strangely acidic—thankfully, it seemed to wipe away easily with a damp cloth.

There was a clinical detachment in the way you moved around him, aided by the fact you would not meet his eyes. Even so, V was painfully aware of every gentle motion your warm hands made against him, clearing bright red smears from the pallor of his skin. Cloth in hand, you made soothing, repetitive movements down the lengths of his arms, across his palms, between each of his fingers, careful and thorough. You moved down the dip of his collar bones and travelled across the width of his chest; you reached the hollows beneath his ribs and he wondered if you could feel his heart beating.

He could tell how hard you were trying to detach yourself from the moment, but your worry was obvious in your tenderness, your care evident in your gentle attention.

As his eyes drifted shut, he did something he hadn’t since the day he was forced onto this plane of existence.

He let himself feel safe.

Your every movement against him felt deliberate and reverent, as if the demon’s blood had vandalized his canvas and you were working to restore the artwork underneath. Even you, in all your modesty, couldn’t tear your eyes from the artwork spanning the length of his body, studying the maze of ink tangled across his skin as if he were a masterpiece.

He felt you work your way back up his neck. As you took a fresh cloth to the blood across his nose, you used your other hand to touch the side of his face, trying to turn him towards you. Keeping his eyes closed, he instead took it as an invitation to lean fully into your palm, until you were cradling his face in your hand.

When he finally glanced up at you from beneath his dark lashes, he realized you were holding your breath.

He felt you brush your thumb along his cheek to move his hair away from his eyes.

And in that moment, you were everything.

“I made the mistake of denying myself the possibility of new experiences,” he said, voice drowsy with exhaustion. “I feared having purpose outside of my calling would prove to be a distraction, and I feared it presumptuous of me to interpret your acts of kindness as anything more than gracious gestures. I hope for nothing more than to be wrong on both counts.”

Your heart was mounting beneath your chest. His words felt dizzying, even after you remembered how to breathe.

“I have been granted a short breath of time to rectify transgressions resulting from my selfish desires, but during this quest, ironic as it may be, I will dare to be selfish.” He held a hand over the one you had against his face. “If you would indulge me.”

You could think of nothing you wanted more.

You turned your palm over to hold his hand, threading a few of your fingers between his own. You hadn’t realized how tense he was until your acceptance seemed to make his whole body sigh, a breathless smirk tugging at the edge of his lips as he gazed at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Like the morning star arising above the black waves, when a shipwrecked soul sighs for morning,” he breathed, beaming. “No matter where I go, I am drawn back here, to you, like gravity.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Thank you, starlight.”

His hand was still wrapped in yours when he finally drifted off to sleep.

After some time, a beak gently nudged your shoulder from behind. When you turned around, Griffon’s eyes were shying away from yours, as if he’d just witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to to.

“We can take it from here, gravedigger,” he said, shrugging his head. “You go on, get some sleep.”

Your heart fuller now than it had ever been, you smiled back at him, not wanting to move your hand a single inch away from where it was now. “Would it be alright if I stayed?”

Griffon snorted, knowing he should’ve known better. “Yeah, kid. You do you.”

-

V was surprised to wake with you by his side. You were still sitting in the chair as you slouched over his bed, your arms and clothes still blood-stained from the previous night’s events. Griffon appeared to have preened himself and had stuck random damaged feathers in your hair throughout the night as you slept. Shadow was curled on the floor at the foot of his bed. Both of his familiars were fast asleep.

You hadn't let go of his hand.

As he stirred, you roused from your slumber, and the first thing you did was smile at him.

“Good morning, starlight.”

Your eyes lit up, but the tremendous guilt behind his own must have been obvious, as your expression fell at once. “What’s wrong?”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter.

“I fear I have not been honest with you.”

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Okay, out of the blue, but if they really wanted Steve to end up with Peggy (for reasons that have nothing to do with gay panic, no sir, not a bit, I'm sure)... They could have done it????? Like, you are literally the ones making this shit up, you could do it well, if you were interested and respected the characters.

Like, honestly... A third infinity war/endgame film.

The biggest issue is that Steve going back to Peggy, staying there, abandoning the present timeline, comes out of nowhere. But you're making the thing! You could make it come from somewhere! You are writing it, you can fucking justify anything.

Okay, so for me the whole thing went off the rails completely when they sent Steve By Himself back in time to un-do what a Whole Goddamn Team of them did. Would it not have made more sense for everyone who was on the original mission who was still physically able to go do undo the things they did???

But okay, I'm imposing rules, all the things that we saw happen still have to happen. So.

So it's that "oh yeah, he's gonna do it all himself, I know it took like an hour of screentime and like seven characters the first time, but Steve by himself is gonna do it and it'll be done in eight seconds" that was so jarring, I expected "put that thing back where it came from" to happen between films, or in a separate movie or something, and so having it slapped on the end with a neat bow around it was... One in a long line of unsatisfying things.

But if they showed us????

So endgame was already p long, and unless you were including other characters, it'd be difficult and shitty to cut a lot of screen time out just for the wrap up... But then, that's always the challenge of the last thing in a franchise, so, suck it.

But let's say Steve going back in time and... Not showing up again was the end of endgame, or endgame ended on another cliffhanger, maybe after they all got back from the time heist and had the shit blown out of them.

So then a large chunk of the "third" endgame film is "put that thing back where it came from", either with additional help, as would be sensible, or Steve by himself. Esp if a large chunk of your movie has already been devoted to a tribute/character stuff for Tony, then the latter half is Steve. Doing his thing. We actually see how easy or hard it is for him to return the stones. Maybe get additional set up for future films as he takes the time to un-do the tessaract/loki kerfuffle. Does he have to return Thor's hammer too? This is an opportunity to establish whether your timetravel actually does spawn alt timelines, or is internally consistent.

We get to see him meet redskull again.

Maybe he tries to bargain with him, to trade the stone for Natasha, and learns it doesn't work like that, and has to decide if he's gonna leave the stone with a gaurdian who was once his worst night mare... For nothing. Maybe we see him face some of that old fear, and find a little closure.

Maybe we even see him have a convo with shade!Natasha, as he thinks, since Thanos was able to do that with Gamorra, kinda, through the soulstone. She has a further opportunity to explain why she is or is not okay with this turn of events, why she was willing to make that sacrifice and sit-out the happy ending. Why she chose to Stop fighting, rather than persuade Clint to work with her to find a work-around, or something.

And Steve hits on that idea, the idea of being Done. They have an opportunity to finish out the emotional plotline they opened in Winter soldier, and continued in civil war, where she was trying so hard to be a good friend, wanting so badly to learn how to help her friend find happiness and not be sad anymore.

Maybe it's in here that he brings up Bucky, brings up the people he would leave behind. Maybe she's the one who makes him take a hard look at what happiness looks like for him. Maybe she's the one who first makes a comment about how resilient ppl like her and Bucky can be, or something. Reminds him that what she had needed, in the end, wasn't One Person (thinking of Clint and or Bruce), but a team, a family, a support network. And she'd gotten it.

There's a little closure there, too.

And so he returns more stones.

And then he's in New York, and we maybe see him have a serious conversation with Tilda Swinton's character, another character who, canonically, has faced (or is preparing/prepared to face) what death/retirement/stepping out of the fight looks like. We see Steve struggling with and ultimately making that choice. To step out of his timeline. Or, back into his old timeline. She seems to understand timelines, so we can have a short mechanics-discussion, and... If it's parallel timelines, then Steve realises he can have his cake and eat it too, he can have Peggy and also rescue Bucky and it won't screw anything up, and he just has to step back into his old timeline to let them know what he chose. (And, I can't help it, maybe drop off his ice-self from the parallel timelines. Just saying)

Or, if it's not, if the timelines are, idk what it's called, self-healing, then Swinton explains that.

And so we are brought to understand that if he chooses to go back... He still can't save Bucky. He could invest all his energy and life into it, but because Bucky wasn't saved, obviously Steve couldn't save him... But maybe, Steve might realize, the reason Winter Soldier happened the way it did was Because timetravel!Steve had laid groundwork for it.

And so he realizes that he's gonna decide to stay with Peggy because, like Harry Potter seeing himself across the lake, he already HAS decided that.

So he does, he stays.

We see him make the choice, but we don't see what the choice is...

And the movie snaps back to everyone waiting on Steve to come back. And he doesn't.

And we see the old man on the bench.

And either immediately then, or in flashbacks between lines he delivers to other characters (falcon, maybe), we see snapshots, maybe no audio, Steve and Peg deciding to lie about who he is, to everyone, doing their best to thwart Hydra, laying the groundwork that would eventually reveal Hydra and expose Bucky and allow what happened to happen.

We maybe even see the funeral scene, see old!Steve explaining to Sharon (who never officially knew he was Steve Rogers) that he just can't do it. He said some words at the rosary the night before (if they're Catholic), or at the private wake (if they're Irish or Catholic), but he doesn't think he can get up there in the big ceremony, she's all official, a respected member of govt, would she mind terribly?

And so we get a shot of young Steve and old Steve, on opposite sides of the church, old Steve noticing his younger self, young Steve too stricken to notice.

And as that part winds down, we realize...

Bucky's not surprised.

Bucky's a little sad maybe, but some line, the way he said goodbye before Steve traveled... We suddenly realize Bucky's not surprised.

Because he knew.

Because he was the only character who saw timetravel!Steve and recognized him from before. Maybe because Steve came close to busting him out a time or two... Hell, maybe that's even part of how Steve gets to the lake unnoticed. Maybe old!Steve has been in contact with Bucky, maybe for a while, maybe since Wakanda, even. And so Bucky knew. Knew what Steve was gonna choose, before Steve did.

And has had time, a lot of time, maybe. To figure it out. Maybe Steve had originally thought he'd give the shield to Bucky, and it was Bucky who turned it down.

(and maybe that is a thing that we learn in Falcon/Winter Soldier, part of Falcon realizing that Bucky respects him a lot more than he had originally thought)

Anyway. It could have been done.

But much in the way of the Game of Thrones ending, it was done with haste, and without care, and so... Wasn't done.

But it could be.

[rainy-knight]

Now Who's Darkness.

Characters: Ven / Vanitas / Aqua / Terra

Rated: E

Ventus popped one eye open, looking around the room just in case. He listened, quiet consuming the halls of their castle.

Perfect.

Sliding out of bed Ventus easily hit the floor without a sound, his bare feet hiting the cold surface. He quickly slid to the door, creaking it open just in case there was any wanderers. Taking a glance he smiled, coast was clear.

Dodge rolling out the door he scanned his surroundings, then made haste to the stairs. Ventus couldn't risk a squeaky step giving out his location so he sat on the railing, sliding down. The time of being a keyblade weilder had honed him for this, hoping off he flipped in the air landing once more without sound.

Ven gave himself a pat on the back.

The boy had almost made it, victory was in his grasp. Swerving through halls he finally reached his location.

Ventus eyes were hit with the most beautiful sight before him. The giant tree in the middle was littered with colorful lights, a beacon of hope. And with that beacon of hope came salvation in the form of giant wrapped boxes.

It was enough to make him cry.

Tip toeing to the green boxes he was right on the munny. He spotted the tags, all having his name, some from Aqua and Terra. One was even from Santa. He could guess what Aqua and Terra got him but Santa was a wild card.

His hands were inches away from the box, oh so ready to unwrap all of its secrets.

???: "My my. Is little Venty opening his presents before he's suppose to?"

Ventus spun in a flash, eyes going wide from the intruder, out of everyone he could have imagined, Vanitas was last on his list.

He wasnt even ON the list.

Vanitas: "I thought only bad kids did such a thing. The only gift you deserve is coal!"

Ventus immediately summoned his keyblade, crouching into a fighting pose.

Ven: " Vanitas! I thought Sora, Aqua and I defeated you! We watched you fade!"

Vanitas: "Oh I did, I faded. But was freed from the chains of the one who separated us. I wasnt spilling lies Ventus. I AM your shadow! And no matter how much your light shines, you can never extinguish your own darkness!"

Ven: "So what, are we to forever clash!?"

Vanitas: "I yearn to be whole, but in order to do so, I must win." Vanitas summoned his keyblade, pointing it to Ventus. "But I know if we clash blades, I'll lose. I always lose."

Ventus: "What, you giving up already? Cause you know I'll win every battle!"

Much to the confusion of Ventus, Vanitas raised his keyblade to the ceiling.

Vanitas: "Yes, I'll lose every battle we have together. But I have learned another way, I'll expose your darkness and force you to surrender. The best part is I wont even have to fight you!!" Vanitas bashed his blade three times on the ceiling, his laugh sounding like grinding rocks together.

Ventus eyes widened, fear erupting his body when he heard shuffling from above.

Aqua: "Ven!? Is that you down there? Oh you promised you wouldn't peak."

The blood quickly drained from Ventus face as heavier footsteps joined the softer ones, signaling Terra was on the move. In seconds he would be caught with nowhere to run.

mousetrap.

Vanitas: "Happy Holidays brother! Hahaha!!" Before fading back into the portal he chucked a piece of coal at Ven, laughing all the way.

Ven picked up the Coal with dread in his eyes. He feared what this meant for the future. He flinched when he heard someone clear their throat. Glancing over to the exit he saw a dissapointed Aqua and a annoyed Terra.

Ven: "Uh...I can explain?"

* * *

Ventus alarm clock blared waking the boy from his slumber, his dream already half forgotton. The sun was barley over the mountians, the warm light reaching through the window basking the room in a soft glow. It didn't help that the blankets wrapped around him had settle for a cozy warmth, luring him back to dreamland.

His hand slapped the clock. Five more minutes couldn't hurt.

Vanitas: "What's this? My brother actually rebelling, ignoring to do his morning chores? And I'm suppose to be the heartless one."

Ventus flung out of his bed in panick, half from Vanitas suddenly spawning in his room and the other for being called out on ignoring his chores. In a sleepy haze he summoned his keyblade. Unfortunately he summoned it forward instead of backwards, the blade smacking the boy in the face. He tumbled out of bed like a sack of potatoes, tangling himself in the covers.

Vanitas laughter echoed through the room, leaving through the inky portal.

Ventus: "What a jerk."

The alarm went off once more.

* * *

Ventus scrubbed his body while the hot water rained down on him. At least he could find some sense of peace in the shower. Popping the shampoo bottle open he proceeded to ring his fingers through his hair with the scented gel. Not looking, he reached for a toothbrush, splashing some cinnamon flavored toothpaste onto the brush. He began brushing his teeth.

Vanitas head popped above the shower, his facemask had already fogged over

Vanitas: "Using masters toothbrush? Not even I would stoop so low! How pervers"

A high pitched scream tore through the castle.

* * *

Ventus looked both ways, the coast was clear. Quickly opening the fridge his eyes scanned for his target. Chicken? Leftovers? Veggies? Nope, so far no luck. But there it was! In the back!

Reaching for his prey his fingers gripped his target. Pulling it back he quickly popped open the bag.

Shredded cheese.

Not thinking twice and giving into the desire, Ventus grabbed a fistfull of the golden goodness and stuffed his cheeks. His taste buds were on cloud nine. Letting out a delighted moan he dug in for more.

Vanitas: "Say cheese!"

Ventus face whipped to the voice, only to be blinded by light.

Vanitas: "And sent!" He sent the photo to Terra and Aqua and the rest of chat. "At this rate you'll be begging for this to end. You'll surrender soon enough. Have fun brother bahahaha!" Before leaving through his portal Vanitas threw the phone on the counter. The phone already buzzing with incoming texts.

Ventus sat there, mouth full of cheese in the cold dark kitchen. Once more he had been exposed and bested. Once more his flaws were shown to the world. Vanitas once again had won.

But no more!

This was the last straw! This game Vanitas was playing had gone on for too long! It was time to fight fire with fire. Ideas on exposing Vanitas were already flooding in. Oh he was going to get it.

If he was looking for a dirty fight of shaming then gosh darn it he was going to get one!

Right after he finished stuffing his face of course.

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 98 Thoughts

Can my post this month just have a bunch of pictures of fish flopping around on the ground? Because at this moment, that is what this chapter has spawned the greatest empathy in me for.

At least the fish get to die.

The Marley saga never dies.

It is an evil Energizer Bunny come for us all.

My ability to care about the Marley side has been dying (dead?) for a while, but I think this chapter is where I just can’t stand it anymore. I just. The last bit of my creative energy went into being envious of a dying fish. I don’t care about Marley’s continued horribleness. I don’t care about moments of levity for the young kidlets who are either going to die terrible deaths or coerce other cast members into dying terrible deaths. I do not care about Diet Reiss. The Giants aren’t in the playoffs, so I really don’t care about baseball.

Have a Zeke.

.Someone wake me from this nightmare.

Turning the volume down on my mental screams a tad... I’m still trapped in how little I care about any of this.

Large portions of it are clearly framework for things that haven’t happened yet. Staring at scaffolding that doesn’t even have the decoration of drying paint isn’t my usual definition of fun. I appreciate that the story is setting up its dominoes, and looks to be taking significant care with doing so, but--well, in lieu of repeating myself ad nauseam, yeah.

What it really comes down to, I think, is that these aren’t our protagonists. The kidlets and the Warriors are all the shining stars of the Marleyan Eldians, and Magath and Willy surely have some other grand scheme going on to propel the plot into interesting places for their country.

So what?

For ninety chapters, the story has been preoccupied with the concerns of a tiny island. Eight chapters with people who don’t consider their stories worth hearing about can’t elicit the same responses.

We get the highest concentration of levity we’ve had in ages with this chapter, and a lot of it is thanks to tiny children. They’re small and cute and innocent. The impulse to sympathize is ready and waiting, and it is very keenly exploited here. Who wouldn’t want two pages depicting how completely whipped Reiner is by a set of four children?

It’s a humanizing element, and more fun to read than much of this arc has been, but it’s difficult to feel that it has a real point.

One of the reasons previous chapters have worked, even through some pits and clumsiness, is that Reiner gets most of the attention. Reiner, happy about it or not, is a person who is familiar with both worlds of this conflict.

Paradis is not just a place with monsters to him, the way it is for Zeke. It’s the place of Reiner’s nightmares because he lived a life there, and deep down, he understands the citizens of Paradis.

His denial of that is a whole separate topic that could use a different chapter as a launchpad, but Reiner is still aware of the world in a way that the other cogs of Marley aren’t. He’s fully committed to our current perspective side, but he carries the burdens of both.

No one else has that problem. They have the age-old problem of titans in the world of humans. The kidlets are Eldians fighting for a better life for Eldians through supporting Marley. The Marleyans are trying to keep the rest of the world from eating them alive. The rest of the world is waiting to hear why they shouldn’t.

Paradis barely exists as a real place for the rest of the cast. It’s a mine. It’s there to supply people on the outside with the resources to survive.

All on its own, that’s not a bad thing to explore. The complete obliteration of any Paradis perspective is very much how the outside world functions in regard to the island. No one on any mainland cares about those people.

The audience doesn’t have that problem. Ninety chapters is a lot of history.

So that’s part of it. The other part is what I’ve been railing against nearly every month since this arc started.

Marley sucks.

The players of this arc are occupying a different story than the one we’re used to, and the fights they’re embittered in are ones that begin in such moral depravity that attempts to make their plight sympathetic fall flat. The Warriors are sympathetic because they’re being used, dragged forward by a carrot that no one seems to care about delivering. Likewise with the kidlets, since they’re too young to know anything but putting their best game face on and trying hard.

But the core of the conflict is that a bunch of jackasses can’t go a single generation without genocide, and those jackasses are not who the protagonists of this arc are preparing to go up against.

I have to compliment Isayama on how frustratingly human the night before the festival is, really. We get a more expansive look at Marley’s victims, and they have no love in their hearts for Eldians or Marley.

Willy’s okay, though.

Willy’s their buddy.

It doesn’t make any sense for people who hate Eldians and hate Marley to be okay with a man who represents both. But they are, because Willy is just one person, and he’s a person that these people have come to know. They’re familiar with him. He isn’t like those other Eldians. He isn’t like the rest of Marley. He’s a worthy human person.

No one at that party’s going to look at him and the little serving boy and think they have anything to do with each other, even though their blood has everything to do with why the little boy is going to be belittled by the people he’s bringing food to.

It’s disgusting, and it’s exactly what people do. As long as they never become the rule, there’s nothing wrong with exceptions. The idea that those exceptions mean the rules are ridiculous somehow never comes up.

As a depiction of humanity, it works pretty well, but going back to whining, it’s one more layer to how meaningless the destruction of this conflict is. This chapter’s ending tagline is, “Those who seek peace have no choice but to fight others who seek the same for themselves.”

If this statement is shooting for aphorism, no.

If it’s a commentary about Eldians fighting Eldians, yes, and the above no is why this is such a pain.

The Eldians in Marley are seeking peace from the treatment bestowed upon them by Marley. They are doing this by going after Paradis. The resulting sensible reaction to threat of genocide means that fighting happens, and that is a very sad thing.

Two sides, desperate for peace, should have the choice of not fighting. That can be very helpful for a thing like peace. But that choice has been systematically removed from one side, so. yay.

Characters with the very real and sympathetic desire for peace have all of that undermined by the active role they take in constantly keeping everything from being peaceful--in the name of peace.

What it boils down to is that the characters who have motivations that are understandable are repeatedly reaching the conclusion of genocide. You can’t sell that. Rooting for the bad guys is only fun when their selected aim is relatable.

Pulling off the perfect heist? Obviously wrong but LOOK HOW COOL

Defeating the undefeated superhero? Holy cow someone really did it.

Protecting your country? That’s normal, right?

Wanting a better world for your people? Awesome!

Genocide? ...

That is supposed to be one of the universal Not Okay things of the world. History books written by the societies who did that are very clear about it.

Even if all of the lives Marley has already cost Paradis are ignored, their mission statement when it comes to that island is that they want to steal something they have no claim to whatsoever. Solving your country’s problems by being the same entitled pricks that caused them to begin with is not a good thing.

There’s a lot of relatable material to be found in the hearts of Marleyan people. That doesn’t make their conclusions any less appalling, so all of this time devoted to this side of the conflict feels really, really pointless. Their reasons are nowhere close to excusing what they’re up to, and the story stepping into their world and listening to the side that says it totally does... The overall picture is pretty clear on condemning this tripe. These aren’t the people who are going to change the world for the better, and one thing this series consistently cares about is people trying to shoot higher. The close-ups of Marley digging a pit instead just aren’t working.

Now that I’ve said all that, the only logical conclusion is that Willy is going to announce at the festival that it is time for the world to become the bestest buddies with Paradis and not actually declare war on them or hurt them, and then they’ll be pals and prance off into the sunset with rainbows scattered like rose petals.

I’m only sort of kidding. Like I said, the story’s pretty clear on the whole that murder, oppression, and all the other things Marley picked up from their time under Eldia’s thumb are wrong. This deep into their perspective, one of the few twists remaining is doing something right, and less murder and more diplomacy might not be a bad start.

But this chapter kicks off with Reiner being ignored while he tries to help devise military strategies against Paradis, so that’s probably going to end up being too much to hope for.

I’m pretty terrible at plot speculation, which is probably another reason why this chapter finally sent me over the deep end. Magath and Tybur are clearly up to something, and I don’t care enough about either of them to be curious instead of frustrated. The basic thing was Magath needing an exterminator and an explosives expert, and Diet Reiss putting on a show, and I imagine both of those things are ominous foreshadowing of some kind and aaaaaaaaa

The one thing that I did kind of wonder about was Eren being a mouse with a baseball mitt. A few people have speculated that he’s actually in contact with Zeke, not island buddies, and if that’s the case, of course big brother is responsible for the glove, because baseball is the only way Zeke knows how to pretend he’s well-adjusted.

If it is from Zeke, then it seems likely that Eren is very much one of the mice Magath is talking about (and I’d very much like to know who the other ones are), but then that’s... its own type of weird. Presumably, Eren’s only contact with Zeke was that one awkward battlefield moment. Eren choosing to communicate with Zeke while he’s behind enemy lines just seems really, really risky, and I have no idea why he’d do that, but I also don’t know why the series would be so heavy-handed with the baseball stuff if it wasn’t meant to intensify the blood family feels in a significant fashion.

Knowing what the heck Eren is up to is probably going to help my feelings on these chapters greatly in the future.

Alas, that is not the now, and so I am left to suffer and ask myself why I ever thought writing a thing about a thing every month could end positively.

I do find it vaguely amusing that Eren’s first contact with his grandfather is encouraging him into a screaming fit. That probably just makes me a terrible person, but it feels oddly appropriate.

...Maybe Zeke left the glove for his grandad and Eren nicked it.

Wow, Eren. First stealing all of dad’s love, then stealing memories of precious moments with grandpa. This is why your found family is bonded to you through murder.

One thing in this chapter I did really like was the scene between Colt and Zeke. For Colt, watching Falco succeed is a horrible thing. He doesn’t want his little brother to end up cursed.

Galliard, watching nearby, had an older brother who thought the same thing. Marcel’s dead because of that fear.

Zeke, whose little brother is alive and who knows what else to him, understands big brother instincts and decides to go play catch with his successor (probably the closest thing to a brother he has access to at the moment).

Meanwhile Galliard sulks at the brotherly love, Pieck notices and cares, and Reiner is trying to ignore that his life is happening.

Beautiful.

Everything to do with Falco is also wonderful. He works hard, improves, thanks the person who’s helped him, and even shouts his feelings out to the girl he likes!

Unfortunately, the girl he likes is Gabi.

I really have to laugh, though:

“So you’re trying to say you’re getting in my way for my sake and claiming that you’re doing it for me??”

Yeah. That’s about what romance looks like in this series. Have fun, you two.

(The wounds Gabi leaves on Falco’s heart are the real reason he hangs out in hospitals.)

And of course, the most magnificent Falco moment comes from being so purely happy at leading Reiner down a creepy abandoned cellar to meet with an escaped hospital inmate. This kid is so jazzed over doing good deeds for Eren. He deserves a better setting. Say... a farm. On an island. With other children who have suffered the world’s cruelty. ...Would his parents have to get killed off first?

I hope his brain doesn’t break too badly when he finds out what he’s started. I also hope that one of the adults in the room asks him to leave before things get too messy. Falco’s a good kid and doesn’t deserve a quarter of the angst gathered in this dark room.

He’s smiling.

How many characters even know how to do that in this series?

Please let him die last. Or first, if that would be easier on him.

Anyway, I should probably say something about Reiner and Eren.

The only thing I can really think of is the first thing Eren says to Reiner is a reference to Reiner’s stated goal of living while they were pals, and in a similar time frame, Eren’s stated goal was eliminating every last titan.

...That’s probably reading a bit much into it.

It’s loaded enough that Eren is willing to reference Reiner’s desire to go back home. That’s the only thing that Reiner got out of that whole mission, and what he lost possibly wasn’t worth it in his mind. But of the two, he is the one who achieved what he said he set out to do, so kudos.

This really can’t end well.

I’d like it to. Eren and Reiner are both so incredibly damaged by everything they’ve done and had done to them that it would be nice if they could just agree that this is all fucked up, btw, we’re back to killing each other tomorrow, see you then, just wanted to say hi first. Or they could skip the killing each other part entirely.

I don’t know about deserving peace, but they both need it, and I think it would be nice if they could reach it somehow. Meeting underground is a good start; it means Eren isn’t looking for a brawl.

(There is no way this is a sanctioned Survey Corps assignment. Too many people would yell at him for trying to do this on his own.)

Next month, place your bets. Are we finally going back to Paradis? Will Eren and Reiner be left staring at each other for four months of infodump? Is Willy going to finally fulfill his dream of being a director? Is his play going to be any good? Will I finally stop typing the same monthly rant about Marley?

I fear the answer to that last one is no, but for the rest, oh, the possibility!

Something

might happen!

[maryenette-writes]

Imperfect Pt. 5 [Batsis]

@kpkarlee @jadedhillon @dc-comics-imagines @cleopatra-isis @wtfisachoncexx @holywinchesterness @thestarsintheknight @aworldwideapart

A/N: And after 1000000000000000000 years....

Pairing: Tim Drake x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Nothing much

Word Count: 1390

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

MASTERLIST

Tim knew there were things in this universe that were facts. The Earth was round, the planets circle around the sun, the grass was green and the sky was blue. Jason was an asshole and Damian was the spawn of the devil himself.

He also knew for a fact that [F/N] was completely and utterly hopeless and they couldn’t do anything to help her get out of her unhealthy lifestyle… or at least, he thought he knew that it was a fact. It turned out that this ‘fact’ was a complete lie for [F/N] had as much skills as anyone in the family. She wasn’t to be underestimated. After all, she fooled everyone, a family of the world’s greatest detectives.

He stared at his older sister type away on the Batcomputer, accessing the CIA database using her clearance level. While Bruce and the others were hunting down the people who had attacked [F/N] that night Jason found her, Tim was tasked with looking after his sister, who was under house arrest until it was safe for her. Tim hid it well, but he was incredibly impressed and shocked by her abilities. This level of access was a level even he couldn’t hack into, so to see the amount of information in it was fascinating to say the least.

[F/N] pulled up several files of terrorists and more on different terrorist groups, examining each of them carefully. He could imagine the gears turning in her head. She was so focused on her work, it contrasted greatly with the sister he knew before. He wondered if she was some clone or something like that, and it was a real possibility because she just seemed too different. Someone couldn’t just change like that.

“This…” [F/N] murmured, scanning the words on the screen, “no, this can’t be done, not here. They’ll definitely track us.”

“Track?” Tim repeated, alarmed. “That’s impossible, this system--”

“You underestimate the CIA, Tim.” [F/N] cut him off sharply, “they’re on par with each of you. Don’t be careless.”

Tim swallowed and nodded, slightly fearing his sister. She was scary when she was serious, but that could be due to never seeing her like this before. It was strange and foreign. He had no idea who she was and that scared him.

“Dick, pass me my phone.” [F/N] ordered, reaching her hand out. Dick nodded solemnly and passed the phone to her, not wanting to disobey her.

He scooted a little closer to Tim. “She’s frightening when she’s working.” Tim muttered.

“She works in the CIA, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.” Dick responded.

“Sorry… still getting used to this whole… agent [F/N] thing.” Tim sighed. He wasn’t as close to [F/N] as Dick or Jason, he didn’t know her before her ‘wild party animal’ phase. Dick stated she went off the rails after Jason’s death, but they always used to reminisce about the old [F/N], the selfless, kind and outgoing girl whom they loved dearly. He had found that hard to believe. To him, all [F/N] was, was an alcoholic drug addict and a complete trainwreck. The scandals she was involved in had been some of the worst in the history of humanity.

“Hey,” [F/N] spoke into her phone, her tone changing from hard to soft in mere seconds, “yeah it’s been awhile, sorry about that…. yeah, but I’m in Gotham City, not DC… no, I am--” she sighed and rubbed her eyes, “okay, fine, but I’m not paying--we’re going completely off topic. Look, I need you to do a favor, no questions asked… yes, you owe me a no questions asked.”

She paused for a bit, then continued, “3rd of July, last year, did you forget? Because I certainly haven’t.” she chuckled and shook her head, “yeah, that. Anyway, I need you to access the database, get me all the information on recent terrorist activities from our intel and from our investigations, then send it through… privately.” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “no questions asked, remember. I’m counting on you. Thanks.”

“Who was that?” Dick questioned after [F/N] hung up.

“A friend.” she said rather dismissively, “no one you need to worry about.”

“Right.” Tim said skeptically, not really believing that. He didn’t want to not trust [F/N], it was just that calling favors in their line of work was risky.

[F/N] seemed to have sensed his mood and tilted her head, before smiling gently. “That man I just called saved my life at least a dozen times. You can trust him.”

Tim wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm and tightened the grip around his bo staff. He had been training for a good two hours now, anything to get his mind off the case. He was anxious, wanting to get out there with them but he knew he wasn’t allowed to.

As he swung his weapon once more, he felt someone watching him. He turned to see [F/N] standing there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Tim tried to ignore her and continue his training, but something about her presence made him nervous.

“Want a partner?”

Tim paused and stared at her. Was she offering to train with him?

“Yeah, sure…” Tim mumbled, realizing he couldn’t actually say no. If he denied her, he would definitely look like he hated her.

She grabbed another bo staff from the rack and stepped onto the training floor, smiling slightly. Her personality seemed to switch constantly. One minute she was a drunkard, the next she was a serious CIA agent, and then she became the loving sister. It was difficult for Tim to tell which one he was facing now.

But perhaps that was her greatest strength, taking on multiple personalities, creating countless facades and personas until nobody could tell which one was the real one. In a way, she was manipulating people, or at least, she was playing mind games with them by simply standing there.

Tim struck first, holding back slightly as he didn’t know whether he should go full out or not, but she defended herself with precision and incredible skill. She knocked him back instantly and before he could recover, she struck him, swinging the bo staff as if it was part of her body.

Tim jumped back and made a split-second decision to not hold back, because [F/N] certainly wasn’t. He attacked her again, this time with all his strength. They engaged in a heated duel, none of them backing down. He was shocked that [F/N] could keep up with him and defend herself, even landing some hits at times and man did they hurt.

Eventually, [F/N] managed to knock her little brother off his feet and had her bo staff pointed at him. She grinned victoriously, her eyes twinkling with excitement. It was the first time Tim had seen her look so… genuinely happy.

He put his hands up, showing her that he surrendered. “Okay,” he panted, “you win.” She lifted the weapon away from him and offered a hand, one which he took gratefully. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“What did you think I was doing in Washington DC the whole time?” [F/N] inquired, putting the bo staff back on the rack, “I wasn’t slacking off or banging the president, contrary to popular belief. They had good training facilities, and even better teachers.”

“Talking about that scandal, why were you with the president then?” Tim asked with a laugh, but also really curious about the reason she was with the man.

“I’m a CIA agent,” she responded, “and sometimes one of us gets sent to the president for business purposes.” she shook her head, “but of course, I’m [F/N] Wayne, so the press would naturally think I’m sleeping with him.”

“I’m sorry…” Tim mumbled, feeling bad for her. He realized now how much she had to deal with, all the secrets she had to keep and the responsibilities that rested on her shoulders. She was very much like Bruce, even when she didn’t know it. Only a true Wayne could fool the press while being a kickass warrior behind the scenes.

Tim smiled at that thought.

Maybe his sister wasn’t so bad after all.