#time would be mostly chill I can just see him immediately gunning for wars to be a shithead

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Okay but, like, imagine in the Theater AU Techno actually started fencing at a super duper young age and it’s not the only combat form he’s learned. He’s still awkward and nervous around his canon self because that version has actually killed before but he knows an insane amount and strange mixture of different combat styles. He’s literally the reference point everyone goes to when choregraphing the fight scenes. Techno is the sole reason why the fight scenes in the plays are so interesting, he always makes them both complicated and accurate and has drilled the moves into the rest of the casts head enough times some of them are starting to understand the basics to a point they could use some of the concepts in a self defense situation..

Wilbur was never into the whole fighting thing because he was always in choir, orchestra, and band related clubs before he started getting into musical theater. That being said, Techno and Phil made sure that Wilbur at least knew the basics of self defense. They’re often called the Never Dies family for a reason. Canon Wilbur can be squishy and stupid but Theater Wilbur begrudgingly has a legacy to live up to.

Phil doesn’t really display it often but he’s won several award in national Kendo championships throughout his life. Not to mention he knows a couple different hand to hand combat styles like aikido and such. He’s absolutely where two of his three kids got their fighting genes from. He still practices with all three kiddos just because he thinks it’s a good skill to have, and in spite of his age he could absolutely win a fight.

Tommy isn’t as strong as Techno mostly because he’s younger, but he started following in Techno’s footsteps as soon as he possibly could. Tommy’s always admired Techno, something the older is aware of and off stage he’s always tried to be as supportive of Tommy as possible. Tommy is actually pretty terrifying for his age, the issue is he lacks discipline and while he does take classes outside of school alongside Techno a lot of the rest of the crew don’t actually know that Tommy would be on par with Techno if he took the craft seriously. Unlike Techno he isn’t in any of the clubs around school that relate to combat. Techno has always tried to push Tommy to be his best and wants to see a day where Tommy actually beats him. To encourage this the two started a small game where one of them would randomly ambush the other and the person who got ambushed had to figure out how to defend themselves with anything available. This game of sorts would probably be how the theater crew realized Tommy is actually freaking terrifying if they ever do find out. (I just really want to make Tommy this terrifying 14-15 year old that makes canon shudder when they realize that the canon Tommy is only using a fraction of his power. I want Tommy to be the Shaggy meme.)

The theater version of Dream never really practiced in any formal setting but he did used to get into a lot of fights when he was a kid. People would either bully him or members of his friend group for being theater kids and dorky even when they were younger. So Dream got good at street fighting. Techno had taught him some professional stuff and he’s gotten more interested ever since their “rivalry” started. Instead of the Mr. Beast competition being them fighting with foam swords I like to think they were legitimately fighting with actual swords for ten dollars because that’s just something high schoolers do ya know?

Schlatt just has a gun. Just a glock. It’s legally registered and he has a license. It’s all above the table. Still though. Schlatt just has a gun and that’s the canon cast’s problem. He isn’t quite as protective as some other members of the group (First blood actually went to Niki, and everyone just silently agreed it was in character. Sure she’s playing a character that hates Tommy right now but she’s still one of the group mom friends and she adores the freshman off stage. Canon wants to get to her children, she’ll make them bleed. Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy all consider her an unofficial sister.) Still though. Dadschlatt isn’t canon to the SMP but it is a running joke off stage. Tommy has Wilbur and Techno to protect him, Ranboo has Niki and Eret, and while the whole cast would go to war for the freshman there isn’t really anyone who specifically prioritizes Tubbo as much as Tommy and Ranboo get prioritized by their respective family members. So Schlatt easily fit into the role considering his off stage persona is exceedingly more chill and likes to play Tekkit with Tubbo and Fundy.

If at any point canon does try to mess around they’ll quickly realize they bit off more than they could chew.

I’d also like to purpose that instead of canon going to the theater world or the theater kids going to the canon world, we compromise. Both canon and the theater crew somehow get dropped in a brand new fresh out of the box minecraft seed, but somehow the auditorium the theater kids were in at the time also ended up there. So we can have both theater kids trying to understand how potions work while c!Tubbo and c!Sam rather hesitantly poke around in the guts of the coffee machine in the back room keeping the theater kids alive. If they accidentally break it, t!Techno will be the first to mourn. 

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

Oh I love this. Just the SBI family knowing how to defend themselves and then we get Dream and Techno with an actual duel with sword. Schlatt having a gun? Terrifying. I’m terrified and man considering that they’re like kids I’m scared. How the hell did this happen.

But hey, at least Canon knows that they shouldn’t mess with these Theater Kids. They are willing to protect their family and the Canon Kids. C!Dream immediately gets decked by someone the moment he start shit up.

Canon and Theater getting dropped in a new world and at the same time the auditorium ending up there? Perfect. We get the best of both worlds.

[emersonfreepress]

ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 3

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

Disclaimer: Masterlist

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The dinner was an interesting affair. Everyone was gathered around a large table that could easily fit several more people. Marinette was sitting between Damian and her mother; on the opposite, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass took the seats. She was glad that they were all people she knew well enough. It was overwhelming. Before, Christmas was always just her and her parents. Occasionally, Nona came too. And there was this one time when she was five when her great-uncle visited. This was much too crowded. 

Damian gently squeezed her hand, reassuring her that it was alright. She ate some, but the nerves made her lose appetite quickly. She was in Gotham. Celebrating Christmas with her husband’s family. Husband… She was going to have a panic attack. She wasn’t ready. 

“Habibti. It’s okay. Everyone here’s a friend.” Damian whispered into her ear, seeing she was spiraling. “Nobody is going to judge us on anything.”

“But I didn’t make any gifts for the Kents. And I didn’t know your eldest brother had a daughter! And I’m a total klutz. I will probably knock over the tree and it will fall and set the house on fire and you will end up homeless or someone will get hurt and then your family will hate me and the Kents will hate me and I…” she kept whispering faster and faster until she was finally starting to feel the need to breathe or pass out. The jury was still out. 

Seeing her daughter’s panic, Sabine also grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Honey, let’s go get some fresh air.” She said loud enough for people close to them to hear before leading Marinette outside. Nobody batted an eye when the pair passed them. 

Once the two were in the back garden, Mari felt her legs give up under her and if not for her mother, she would have probably collapsed. The woman held her tight and led the girl toward the bench, which was luckily not covered in snow. 

“I’m so sorry, Maman. I don’t know… I just felt so overwhelmed. There were all these people and I was really meeting my husband’s family and friends for the first time and I guess I was not prepared for all this…” She was speaking fast. 

“Don’t worry sweetie. I understand. Did I tell you how, when I met your Nona for the first time, I accidentally flipped her over my shoulder and pinned her to the ground?” Sabine asked, smiling understandingly at her daughter. 

“No! Really?”

“Yes. Well, in my defense, she surprised me with a gun that shot candies.” 

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at that. It did seem like something her Mémé would do. 

“She was shocked at first and I was afraid I hurt her. Instead, after that, she decided that I was apparently worthy of dating her boy and gave us her approval.” 

“So… the moral of this story is that I should flip Talia over for them to accept me?” Mari asked with a cheeky grin. 

“That too, sweetie. I can even lend you something from my bag if you want a more… permanent effect.” 

“Maman!” 

“Fine…” Sabine grumbled goodheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about fitting in or how they will perceive you. I’ve seen how that boy looks at you and I approve.” She smiled. “That’s all that should matter.”

“Thank you maman. I’m glad you’re here.” She hugged her mother as the two sat together on the bench, enjoying the evening chill until the cold became irritating instead of refreshing.

-------

When the two returned, the dinner was nearing the end. Marinette noted seven burning holes on the ceiling but didn’t comment. There was also a plate on fire next to Jason that he seemed adamant not to acknowledge. Also, Mar’i and Jon were levitating above the table and playing rock paper scissors, except they used the props. Silently, Marinette walked to take a seat next to Damian. Her mother went over to talk a bit with Bruce about something.

“Um… Why is Jason’s plate on fire?” She asked, very much confused. 

“Tt. He wanted a souffle on fire.” 

“We’re already at desserts?” The girl asked, surprised. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cass staring at Tim and Stephanie with a strange gaze. It wasn’t hostile, but rather, she couldn’t really name the emotions present. 

“Yes. I saved you some maracons. You love the strawberry ones, right?”

“You made me prefer lemon ones.” She smiled. “The subtle sourness really brings out the sweetness.” 

“Of course it does Angel.” He smiled. “Sadly, we sit next to Brown, who will devour anything with sugar in it.”

A devious grin appeared on Mari’s face. “Really now?” She reached over into her purse to pull a small box where she kept the power-up cookies for her Kwami. “Tikki… will you mind if I give her a burnt-red one? You know which…”

For a moment, it looked like the Kwami wanted to protest, but then the small goddess noticed the plate of cookies was empty. “Go for it, Marinette. It won’t hurt her.”

“Stephanie! I’ve got a spare macaron I can share,” she smiled at the blonde girl. 

“Gimme!” She almost leaped like a gremlin, her eyes in a slight daze.

“Uh-oh. She is experiencing a sugar rush. I think she ate the whole plate herself,” Tim spoke from his seat, eyes slightly worried. 

Mari handed over the macaron and watched as Steph ate it. It took only a moment for her face to flush red and tears to appear in her eyes. “Water!” She said with a hoarse throat. Tim handed her a glass, but when she downed it, the burning only increased.

“Oh no! I forgot to warn you! It was made with ground hot pepper instead of flour… silly me!” Mari said, keeping the cute smile on. “I would advise milk.”

When Stephanie ran to the kitchen, followed by Tim laughing and Cass and Damian smiling, the older boy turned to Marinette. “You are devious.” 

“She shouldn’t have eaten so many cookies,” the girl shrugged. After that, she actually started to enjoy the evening. It might have started a prank war later on, but for now, she was safe. 

---------

After dinner, the crowd moved to a large living room where adults took seats on the couches or chairs while most kids and teens sat on the fluffy carpet. Alfred was walking around and handing the wine glasses to adults and hot chocolate to the youngsters. Clark opted for hot chocolate as well, which earned him a round of teasing. 

Since everyone was staying the night, there was no need for designated drivers. When Tim and Stephanie tried to get their hands on alcohol, Alfred slapped their hands. More laughter followed. 

Marinette sat there, cuddled into one armchair with Damian, observing everything and looking cute. 

“...I’m just saying, Bruce. You could smile a bit more in costume too. It wouldn’t kill you.” Clark finished a short speech.

“Work and homelife should stay separate,” Tim spoke up from his spot on the floor.

“Which doesn’t stop you from smiling. You’re not a Buckingham Palace guard.” Lois pointed out.

“To be frank, you could smile a bit more often, B.” Dick supported the enemy.

“It would be bad for the image,” Bruce mumbled. “If anyone saw Batman smile, it would ruin my years of hard work.”

“Diana disagrees.” Kor’i smiled. “She actually said once that ‘a smiling bat looks pretty handsome’.”

“I’ve seen a smiling bat!” Mar’i shouted from her spot on Jon’s knees, the two of them acting like nice siblings. It secretly irked Damian, but he wouldn’t ever voice that thought. “There was a cartoon!” 

“That’s nice, sweetie.” Sabine couldn’t help but rub it into Bruce some more. “Did he also have a cape, like Bruce?”

“Yes! And he walked on two legs!” 

“See? I think your image doesn’t need to suffer.” Tom joined his wife. His English wasn’t that good, but he could get by. “Maybe you could get a cartoon about Batman? Ladybug had her own movie and a song dedicated to her.” 

“Ladybug?” Jonathan asked. Marinette immediately tensed at the mention of her superhero name. She definitely did not want to reveal herself to everyone here. It’s not that she didn’t trust any of them, since all of them knew about Batman and co., but she felt uneasy. The fewer people knew, the better. 

“Parisian superheroine.” Sabine clarified.

“We sure didn’t hear about her back in Smallville.” Martha insisted, smiling. “Then again, we don’t really keep with the news from the old world.”

“There was this terrorist in Paris that used magic to turn people into temporary villains. He was finally defeated recently. I think you’ve seen all the ladybug decorations.” Tim explained in broad terms. 

“Ah! Right. I was wondering about the ladybugs…” 

Damian noted that his beloved was tense and decided that it was a moment good as any other to spring up the surprise. He shifted slightly, signaling that he wanted to get up. Marinette, who was still holding her cup, immediately sprung onto her feet. She thought he maybe wanted to leave somewhere or speak with his father alone. 

Instead, Damian hit the side of his hot chocolate cup with a spoon three times, gathering everyone’s attention. 

“Tt. I wanted to say a few words. This will be important so shut up you lot.” He cleared his throat before continuing in a mostly emotionless voice that most people associated with his ‘Ice Prince’ persona. “Marinette. When I first met you, it was not from our own free will. The bitch that is my mother forced our hand and tied us together. But we got to know each other out of our own free will. Nobody forced me…” His head snapped toward Dick. “Tt. Don’t you dare, Grayson.” Seeing his brother raise his hands in a surrender gesture, he carried on. “Nobody forced me to come to Paris. Definitely, nobody forced you to actually accept my courting. To this day, I am left wondering why an Angel as you would actually agree to go out with me, but here we are.”

The people watched with rapt attention. Marinette just stood there, unable to voice a coherent thought. She had no idea what was happening, but a deep red blush had made its way onto her face when he praised her. 

“You were so full of passion and joy and it reminded me a bit of Jon, but without the irritating factors.” 

“Hey!” The boy protested. A murderous glare from Damian shut him up quickly. 

“As I was saying, you were perfect in my eyes. I was taken away by your kindness. There are no words to describe my feelings.” His tone was still emotionless and monotonous, but Marinette could see that he was doing his best to actually see this through. “I can say without a doubt that I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

All air was suddenly sucked from Mari’s lungs when he fell on one knee and pulled out a small black box. Inside was probably the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. There were three flowers on a golden band. In the center of each, there was a shining diamond, surrounded by smaller stones. The petals were made from pink stones that she suspected were also diamonds. Were there even pink diamonds? All in all, it looked beyond words. 

“Will you do me that honor and become my wife?” When he finally asked, she could feel the world spinning. This was… this was better than in any of her daydreams. And not only because instead of Adrien there was Damian. 

The words died in her throat. She had to sit down to not faint. “Yes…” She whispered weakly, so only Damian could hear. The boy smiled brightly (a rare sight to be sure) and put the ring on her finger. 

Her gaze fell on the band he had on his own hand. It was silver with a large black stone in the center of the band, surrounded by eight diamonds. The Black Cat Miraculous she realized. 

An applaud arose from several places in the room, but some of the guests were confused. 

“Aren’t you two too young to get married?” Johnathan asked, scratching his head. 

“Tt. Technically, we are already married where I come from. This is for my wife’s content and nothing else.”

“Married?!” The old farmer asked, scandalized. 

“Tt. That’s what I said. Now can someone please get my Angel some water? I think she is about to faint.” 

“Um… I would also be very interested in the story…” Clark joined his father. He wasn’t exactly that much scandalized, but confusion was clear on his face. 

“I promise I will explain everything. I think we should give the two some breathing space…” Bruce proposed hesitantly. 

“I will help get Mari to her room. I think she has had enough excitement for today,” Tom offered.

“I am also turning in for the night, Father. I trust that between you and Miss Cheng they will get a full story. Sans the private parts of course.” He glared at him. 

“I will make sure of that.” Sabine quickly cut any protests.

“Good. Good night everyone. And Merry Christmas or whatever.” With that, he left, wanting to catch up with Tom and Marinette.

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Masterlist // Next

[maxwell-grant]

Thoughts on the Shadow's Doppelganger, Lamont Cranston

The funny thing about Cranston in the original stories is that, yeah, one of the most famous scenes across all Shadow media is the “Lamont Cranston Talks to Himself” chapter in The Shadow Laughs, where we learn that The Shadow is not Lamont Cranston, but has usurped his identity, and now shows up at his bedside looking like him, talking like him, knowing more about his own life than he himself does, and ordering him to leave town, effectively blackmailing him into letting him use his face. It’s a very iconic scene that exemplifies a lot of what makes The Shadow unique as a character, and you can imagine why so many adaptations have gone with the idea of Cranston being either a hapless stooge bullied into submission, or an actual villain, because that whole scene is very much a horror movie scenario. 

Thing is, none of them seem to remember how Cranston and The Shadow’s relationship developed past this. I’ll post this excerpt from Atoms of Death:

"Good morning, Cranston," came a quiet tone from the foot of the bed.

"Good morning, yourself," returned Cranston, rubbing his eyes without noticing the visitor.

"You should say: Good morning, myself," chuckled The Shadow, dryly.

Cranston was pulling down the sleeves of his pajama jacket. He sat bolt upright, staring. Then a slow smile showed on his lips; one that was almost a replica of The Shadow's.

"So it's you," remarked Cranston, sleepily. "Well, I knew that last night. It was about time we crossed paths again. Well, old man, you landed me in for plenty this trip."

Cranston shoved bedclothes aside and perched on the edge of the bed. He found cigarettes on the telephone table; The Shadow supplied a flame from a lighter before Cranston could ignite a match. The millionaire noted that The Shadow's lighter bore the initials "L. C." 

"You handle every detail, don't you?" questioned Cranston in admiration. “Jove! I remember the first time I met you. In this very room. You dropped cloak and hat and left me looking at my own face as plainly as if I had seen it in a mirror. Just as it is today."

"And I advised you," recalled The Shadow, in Cranston's own tone, "to take a trip abroad, while I used your identity. You were a bit exasperated at first."

"I must admit that I was. I threatened to have you arrested, as an impostor, until you proved that you knew more about my affairs than I did. I really believe that if it had come to a showdown, I would have been proven the impostor and you the genuine Lamont Cranston. Jove!"

"Jove," repeated The Shadow, quietly, "You have acquired that expression recently, Cranston. I shall remember it for future reference. You have a penchant for acquiring anglicisms during your sojourns in British colonies. Jove!"

"Bounder and blighter," laughed Cranston. "Don't forget those. I still use them occasionally."

Or this excerpt from The Hydra, which is an incredible book where the chemistry between the two really shines:

Lamont Cranston woke up and wondered why his head still whirled. It took him about half a minute to learn that the motion came from the fact he was riding in his limousine. Someone must have put him back in the limousine and Stanley was driving him home. 

He didn't have to guess who had helped him on his way, for at that moment Cranston heard a low-toned laugh beside him. He turned to see the black-cloaked figure of The Shadow.

"What did you hit me with?" asked Cranston. "All four of your automatics?"

"I'm only carrying a pair tonight," replied The Shadow

Look at these two dorks, just palling around and getting into shenanigans and The Shadow outright joking around Cranston, like they are just two old chums having a laugh at the weirdness of their lives. The “real” Cranston didn’t show up very often in the original stories, especially in the last stories when Lamont Cranston essentially became the real identity of The Shadow, but when he did, part of what makes him stand out as his own character is that he’s funny. Gibson gets a lot of mileage out of Cranston as this guy who is completely nonchalant and chill about all the weird shit that happens to him, even in The Hydra after he kills a man with an elephant gun, he’s still more or less the same, he largely just walks out of it with a newfound realization. 

Relieving Cranston of the elephant gun, The Shadow steered his friend into the closet. Hauling the big weapon with him, The Shadow opened the door to meet and dismiss arriving servants who had dashed upstairs when they felt the house quake. 

"Whenever I see this gun," began Cranston, coming from the closet, "I'll remember what I did with it -" 

“Quite right," interposed The Shadow approvingly. "What you did to Mance will make amends for any elephants you may have killed. Too bad Mance didn't bring along a few more Hydra Heads.”

Slowly, understanding dawned on Cranston. He'd never compared his big-game hunts with The Shadow's quests for men of crime. He felt that The Shadow's cause was justified, but it had seemed outside the field of sport. It still was, but Cranston, now that he had dealt with a murderer who deserved to die, was realizing that his game hunts were more deserving of rebuke.

His encounters with The Shadow gradually changed Cranston from a useless millionaire wasting his resources and talents on idle pursuits, to...still largely a useless millionaire, except his resources and talents are no longer wasted and he’s gradually grown into a useful ally and friend to The Shadow. The Shadow tends to have that effect on people who work by his side and even Cranston, the guy whose main role in his organization is to just stay away and be useless somewhere else, can’t help but change a little into a better person when he appears. 

There’s an interesting article written by Bob Sampson called “The Third Shadow” which refers to the Bruce Elliot run of The Shadow Magazine, which is incredibly maligned by fans and not without reason, the stories all largely suck and the Shadow bears little resemblance to his former self, instead mostly feeling like a diet take on the radio show Lamont, more of an average detective. The theory Sampson puts out is that, during this period, it was actually Lamont Cranston who became active as The Shadow while Allard was busy overseas, and I definitely like this theory. It makes sense specially considering The Hydra sets up for Cranston to become more pro-active and serious:

While not the towering master-mind of Allard, he does become the next best thing: A post-war sleuth. He even indulges in wearing the cloak and slouch hat from time to time (to varying degrees of effectiveness), while trying to laugh like Allard (also to varying degrees of effectiveness) as if to fulfill that forbidden fantasy until he finally gets it out of his system. After all, The Shadow pretended to be him, why not the other way around?

As Bob Sampson put it: “It is always Cranston who explains all and takes the credit”. 

Probably very cathartic for Lamont, who for the last 18 years was relegated to being a distant supporting player in his own life. Cranston is still in contact with the agents however. He even receives "assignments" from Burbank. 

This entire arrangement could only be with The Shadow's tacit approval. Let us remember, Cranston was not merely some insipid fop. He certainly had done his own share of exploring and was indeed a hunter. He could handle a variety of firearms, was familiar with exotic peoples and their customs, knew how to stalk dangerous animals through the jungle and veldt, but he was not, nor ever claimed to be, a master secret-agent and soldier.

I think it is fitting that the writing is completely different for this period as well. Not the enigmatic journalistic style of Allards exploits, but the witty, modern champagne fizz of Cranston's odyssey in a Post-War world. He feels a full range of emotions. In the Gibson stories, The Shadow is at arms length. In the Elliott stories, Cranston is sitting right next to you on a train or an airplane or roadster. 

It’s also interesting to consider how Lamont Cranston has basically become the true name of The Shadow in pop culture. Often times it’s the name people use when they specifically want to reference The Shadow, the supposed “Ghost of Gay Street” hauntings in Gibson’s former apartment took the form of Lamont Cranston, and even in the stories, more and more people became aware of it as the years went by (which also helps reinforce the idea that the “real” Cranston eventually took to acting as a fill-in for The Shadow, to draw attention away from the real Shadow’s operations), and Gibson even mentioned a few times that Cranston was The Shadow’s “favorite” identity along with Arnaud. Which is kinda fascinating to think about and does hint at some weird underlying aspects of The Shadow’s psyche, that his favorite identity is one not his own.

And at last, there’s these passages from The Whispering Eyes, a book that does not mention Allard once, and the very last Shadow novel: 

From beneath the seat he was taking his black garb. Cloaked and hatted as he stepped from the cab, Cranston merged immediately with the darkness. He had become The Shadow. 

Cranston's switch to his other self could well be attributed to a hypnotic mood. The mental lapses produced through hypnosis were the sort that would often cause a subject to revert to habit. Now, as The Shadow, Cranston was still in what might be termed a haphazard mood. He was skirting through darkness, pausing, changing direction, behaving generally as though avoiding something that did not exist.

Lang had flung away his glasses; his eyes now showed the shining, hypnotic force that the lenses normally softened. He recognized the eyes that met his above a leveled gun muzzle.

The Shadow's eyes, yet strangely Cranston's, for this was one time The Shadow did not care to disguise them.

Which begs the question: Did Cranston succeed in fully becoming The Shadow? Or did The Shadow succeed in fully becoming Cranston?

[ridiasfangirlings]

Do you know the part from Star Wars 6 where Jabba keeps Leia on a leash? A scene where Saru goes on an undercover mission being the one on a leash and the rest of the clan and Homes being on the side trying to rescue Yata who wakes up to see Saru in a sexy outfit 😎👌 but angry seeing bruises on his neck.

Fushimi in a sexy bikini on a leash, you're speaking my language anon *^* Maybe Fushimi needs to go undercover at like a strip club that's being used as a cover for some illegal Strain activities. Like imagine there's this dangerous Strain that Scepter 4 has been trying to capture, the guy has like this whole illegal gang thing going on involving drug running and even some yakuza ties. The Strain is a rich businessman and it's difficult for even the Rabbits to do anything about him due to his general power and influence, they need to find a way to actually catch him at doing something illegal and then Scepter 4 will be able to use their authority to make an arrest. The Strain has fairly benign powers that can still cause chaos, like say he can make a perfect copy of something after seeing it and has been using that to put into circulation counterfeit currency. He's also been using the power to sell drugs that were copied from the original supply in order to make the operation self-sustaining, however the copied drugs are actually stronger and more lethal than the normal ones.

Scepter 4 has been gathering intel on this guy for a while, even working in tandem with Homra since the Strain's lately been encroaching on their territory. They manage to discover that the guy runs like this exotic dance club and that he has a preference for gorgeous male dancers. Naturally the easiest way to infiltrate would be for someone to apply to work at the club but it's a dangerous job because being caught could mean death. The Strain is also known for even drugging his dancers and not letting them leave the club so this needs to be done by someone who can handle themselves without backup. The club itself has extremely high level security, and naturally there's only one member of the Blues who can both handle himself and be trusted to take down even the most complicated computerized security system. Fushimi is very not pleased about having to go undercover as an exotic dancer but he's the best person for the job, he clicks his tongue and mutters that he expects a raise for this.

Meanwhile Homra's planning their own infiltration, say a few of the Homra guys have managed to get exclusive invites to the club and the plan is to pretend to be customers and stake the place out, then plan their next move from there. Yata is part of the team sent in, Kusanagi's concerned about Yata's ability to handle an undercover mission but he needs someone strong there in case things go south and both Kusanagi himself and Kamamoto, the next most obvious choice, are too noticeable to blend in easily. Yata takes off his beanie and dresses up a bit and he's a lot harder to notice, he just has to rein in his temper and try not freak out being surrounded by sexy dancers – so of course when the Homra guys get to the club Yata is immediately freaked out by the sexy dancers and almost blows the whole thing, Chitose and Dewa are with him and tell him to chill. Yata does his best but maybe he's accidentally caught by one of the gang members, like say while they're trying to be all nonchalant in the club Yata thinks he sees someone who looks kinda familiar going into the back room. Yata excuses himself to go look but when he sneaks through the door he doesn't see anyone, suddenly he's hit in the back of the head by something heavy and goes down immediately.

When Yata wakes up he's tied up and the Strain gang leader is waiting for him, as it turns out they originally thought he was just trespassing but then when they went to move Yata's unconscious body someone noticed his Homra tattoo. The Strain wonders how many other Homra members are in his club tonight, indicating that he's going to find them and have them captured as well. Yata would be angry about this but he's barely even been paying attention to this whole evil villain speech because sitting there on a plush pillow right next to the Strain is Fushimi, wearing nothing but a metal bikini and with a collar and chain around his neck. Yata can feel the color rising in his face and he starts to say Fushimi's name when Fushimi shoots him this poisonous glare, Yata sputters and the Strain glances over at Fushimi. He tugs Fushimi a bit closer by the neck and asks if Yata's attracted to his newest favorite, calling Fushimi 'Subaru' and saying that his new pet is indeed a lovely specimen. The Strain pulls Fushimi into a kiss and Yata's basically ready to knock the guy's head off except he's still tied up and Fushimi is glaring at him over the Strain's head.

There's a knock on the door and the Strain says that must be his men with Yata's companions, the door opens and a few guys walk in dragging Chitose and Dewa. The Strain grins and starts gloating, saying that he's even defeated Homra now and talking about how successful his drug ring is and how much money he's made. He considers using some of his drugs on the Homra guys, pulling out a suitcase and showing all the illegal drugs stowed inside. That's when all of a sudden the guys who dragged Chitose and Dewa in throw off their disguises and it's Akiyama and Benzai, Chitose and Dewa suddenly get up too showing that they aren't actually tied up at all. As it turns out when Yata spotted Fushimi he had just turned off the security system and now that the Strain has admitted to his illegal deeds it's time to take him down. The Strain calls for his guards and a whole big fight scene ensues, a bunch of the 'customers' turn out to be Scepter 4 members and they start fighting the Strain's men.

The Strain tries to get up and make a run for it, dragging Fushimi by the neck and Yata's desperately trying to get free to help him. Yata manages to wriggle into the Strain's way, knocking him down momentarily and the Strain curses, pulling out a gun and aiming it at Yata. Suddenly Fushimi's there, holding the chain between his own hands and he wraps it around the Strain's neck, saying he's been wanting to do this for days as he starts to choke the Strain with his own chain. The Strain struggles and eventually sags, unconscious, and Fushimi makes sure to give the body a good kick as he lets the guy fall to the ground. Yata's immediately there asking if Fushimi's okay and Fushimi snorts as he says it takes more than scum like this to do anything to him, digging through the Strain's pockets for the keys to his collar. He gets the collar off and then moves to untie Yata, which is when they both suddenly realize once again that Fushimi is mostly naked. Yata starts stuttering and looking away again all 't-that outfit is--' and Fushimi clicks his tongue and is like stop being a virgin, Yata's all what the hell I was trying to say that you look good in it and now suddenly Fushimi's face is red too (while the two of them are busy being disaster gays Akiyama slyly picks up the collar and leash for...evidence reasons, yeah and anyway no sense in letting a perfectly good leash go to waste).

[shieldwinter]

Of Green and Grey [Preview]

Here’s the preview for my new fic! Inspired mostly by Fallout 4 (because I’m most familiar with it over the other Fallout games) 

Synopsis: Steve was recovered from the arctic in 2040 due to melting icecaps, but instead of defrosting him, the United States government decided to store him in a cryogenic state until desperate times would call for the activation of Captain America. This time would never come, as the world entered the last World War in 2077, and the world was ravished by nuclear fallout. Over two hundred years later, Nick Fury and his group of ragtag defenders find Steve in cryogenic sleep, and release him from his icy slumber.  The United States is no more, but with the rise of an insidious scientific group known as Hydra, Captain America may be needed more than ever. 

Enter Hydra Courser B1-07, a third generation Synth, created to be their number one agent. He is tasked to infiltrate, and take down these so called Defenders, Avengers, and meets his match in Captain America; both mentally and physically. The peak of technological innovation, meets the peak of human perfection. What can become of them?

He was cold. He was numb. Moving his fingers proved to be difficult. They were stiff, his bones feeling brittle, as he attempted to curl them into a fist. His eyelids were another challenge, darkness clouding his vision as Steve fought to open them. They felt glued together, frosted over with a biting chill. Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell. Every breath he tried to force in burned, like he was shoved down face first into a snowdrift, forced to struggle in oxygen.

Where was he? The last thing Steve remembered was the Valkyrie, the fight with Johann Schmidt, speaking to Peggy and putting the plane into the water. He remembered the feeling of rushing arctic water, filling the plane and sinking her down, down, into the depths of the ocean. He remembered accepting his fate, knowing people were safe because of his sacrifice, and that Steve could die relieved, could die a hero. 

He didn’t feel dead, however. He felt like he was struggling to wake up, to fight against the cold that consumed him. Steve felt like he was slowly getting warmer, his body regaining some function as more time passed. He sucked in his first breath that didn’t hurt, but it resulted in a gasping cough, his lungs fighting the chilled air. “Oh my god, Nick, he’s alive!” He heard, the voice sounding like it was underwater, and Steve lifted his head to the best of his abilities, finding frosted glass obscuring his vision. So he was alive, then? This wasn’t some bizarre afterlife that was defrosting him from the arctic before opening it’s gates. A buzzer sounded, then a mechanical voice blared from somewhere in the distance, and slowly the frosted glass left his eyeline, lifting and lifting to reveal a man with a shock of blond hair, wide blue eyes peering at Steve as if he was some kind of anomaly. 

“Who..?” Steve tried, but with the rush of warm air flooding the chamber he was in, his iced over clothing began cracking away, his only anchor to keep him upright, and he began to tumble over. “Wow, wow, wow!” Shouted the man, and suddenly too warm hands landed on him, preventing Steve from smacking into the ground. “Shit, dude, you’re like ice. You alright?”

Steve blinked, and blinked again, his vision swimming. He tried to focus on his surroundings, but everything was so grey, so metal. “Who..? Where am I?” Steve tried again, his voice coming out wrong, scratchy. The man held him up, shifting his grip to straighten Steve on his own two feet, and he stepped back to arm’s length. He looked him over with concerned, and curious eyes. “Name’s Clint, and we’re in some fucked up military facility.” The man, Clint, offered a smile with his words, and Steve wondered if it was supposed to reassure him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement, and turned his head to see a dark skinned man, with an ominous eyepatch over one eye, and a red-haired woman who seemed to have a permanent frown, evident by the down turned smile lines on her face. The man with the eyepatch stepped forward, and Steve took note of the confident way he walked, accentuated with the long trench coat he wore. “I’m Nick Fury, and this here is Natasha,” he made a motion to the woman, still standing behind him. She hadn’t bothered moving a muscle. “Now that our introductions are out of the way, who are you?” Nick asked, his tone commanding. It reminded Steve of Colonel Phillips, a man who asked questions expecting immediate answers. 

Steve, feeling sure of holding his own weight now, shrugged off Clint’s hands before taking a step back and rising to his full height, assuming parade rest. Clint backed off, understanding that Steve didn’t need the support. His clothes felt wet, the longer he stood there, body warming to the temperature in the facility, and thanks to the serum that coursed through his veins. “My name is Captain Steve Rogers, sir. United States Army,” he informed, voice finding that happy medium between his normal timbre and the tone he used with the Commandos. 

There was a snort of a laugh, and Steve’s attention flew to the woman, Natasha, who hadn’t made a move or a single sound since he fell out of the chamber. Now, she looked amused, whereas Nick had an eyebrow raised. It was like they found what Steve had said odd, out of place, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why. Sure, he had just been defrosted right in front of them, but that didn’t seem to faze them much aside from Clint’s comment of him being alive, and feeling like ice. Yet his military introduction stifled a laugh out of Natasha.

It was Clint who spoke first. He seemed to be the more hospitable of the three, and the one to show the most emotion. “You’re pre-war?” He asked, sounding awed, but his words caused Steve to blink, dumbfounded. Pre-war? What did that even mean?

He voiced as much, falling from his parade rest to lean back on his heels. “What does that mean?” “Y’know, from before the Great War?” Clint elaborated, but it only led to Steve feeling more confused. “Son, the Great War happened before my time,” he tried to explain, glancing from Clint, to Natasha - who still looked amused - to Nick, who just looked like he sucked on something sour. “I was just a few months old when the Treaty of Versailles was signed.”

Now, it was everyone but Steve’s turn to look confused. What the hell was going on? “The Treaty of Versailles?” He spoke again, tone questioning, “the ending of World War One?”

“Oh shit,” Natasha said, the amusement completely gone from her face, replaced by horror. Nick glanced back at her, before his attention went directly to Steve. He looked disbelieving, angry almost. “Are you trying to tell me you were alive for the first World Wars?” Nick asked, voice booming. If Steve wasn’t used to dealing with military superiors, he would have flinched back. He held firm, however, unsure what Nick was about to get at. “Yeah. Steven Grant Rogers, born July Fourth, Nineteen-Eighteen. I fought and served in World War Two, on the Western front,” he explained, and at the stares he got, a creeping chill shuddered up his spine, and it wasn’t from the chamber. It wasn’t from the arctic. This was different, this was terror. “What year is it?” and he was met with silence, the trio looking back and forth to each other. Steve felt that terror spike, his heart in his throat. He took one step towards Nick Fury, fists clenching at his sides, and he didn’t miss the way Natasha’s hand went to a gun at her hip that Steve failed to notice. “What year is it?” He repeated, voice demanding.

“It’s Twenty-Two Eighty-Seven, Captain Rogers. The United States fell in Twenty Seventy-Seven. Seems you’ve been asleep for over three-hundred years.”

Steve felt off-kilter. He felt like the ground was slipping away from him. This was so much worse than the water of the arctic. This was so much worse than going through with the serum. Not only was the war over, but the United States was gone. Everything he fought, and died for, was gone. His friends weren’t just dead, and buried, they were ash. Were their headstones even still standing? How long was too long without proper maintenance to a cemetery? And God above, Peggy. He wouldn’t get to see her again. He wouldn’t get to know if she went, and had a family. Three-hundred years was a length of time he couldn’t even wrap his brain around. Everything was gone. He felt his knees hit the ground first, and Steve thought he heard Clint’s shout of surprise, but darkness began to consume him again, only this time Steve craved the biting chill, but was only greeted by smooth metal. 

[croonerboy1965]

As Many Forms of Love...

by croonerboy1965 and librarian-von-sassypants

Eddie stared out the window at the sprawling countryside as it moved like an abstract painting of green outside the carriage window, and hoped.

He hoped that this move was the right thing for his son. Christopher hadn’t flourished in the city as he thought he might. 

He hoped he was making the right choice in uprooting their lives and letting a house in the country, miles and miles from the smog and the dirt.

He hoped he would find a nice wife quickly, without too much effort, who would be good to Christopher, who would love him as much as Eddie did.

And more than anything, he hoped he could find the peace he so desperately craved. The ravages of war left little cracks in Eddie that festered, and grew, and his mind itched for a balm, something to make it all just a little bit less. 

He hoped to find that here. That peace, that so many people promised the countryside would provide. 

Twilight painted the sky in soft pastels of orange and red hues which tugged at the coming of night, and it’s blanket indigo fading into purple. They’d been on the road for hours, it seemed, and Christopher had long since fallen asleep, despite the rumbling of the carriage. Eddie could never quite get himself to sleep under any set of circumstances of late, still haunted by visions of his time in the militia. Too many tense transports during the war, where he was never sure if, when he fell asleep, he would ever wake back up again. 

They’re close now, just another hour or so and they’ll be at their new manor. It will be a relief after their long travels to have the comforts of a downy bed, and the distinct pleasure of a household staff to meet their needs. Eddie could certainly use a nice hot bath and a cup of tea to warm his tired and chilled through bones. 

The horse whinnying was Eddie’s first clue something was wrong, followed by the sudden jolt of the carriage as they ground to a halt.

Immediately, he put a hand out to stop a sleeping Christopher from tumbling onto the carriage floor. 

“Kingston?” he called out to his driver. 

“My lord--” Kingston started, but was cut off, and Eddie began to take inventory of what he has in the carriage to use as a weapon. The night often carried the unscrupulous wants of undesirable men. He considered Christopher’s walking cane,then thought the better of it. He realized he packed the only weapon he had, his pistol, was packed and sent on ahead. ‘Dammit all the Hell!’, he thought to himself. 

“Good evening!”, the voice that greeted them from outside the carriage was almost cheerful. Eddie instinctively grabbed his son’s cane, still keeping low and out of sight. The man who stepped into view looked young, younger than him, with a black mask obscuring the top half of his face. Dark and tattered clothes and high black boots completed the brigand look, but he was grinning, a smile so bright it looked very out of place. Now the only thing clearly visible in the dimming light.

Beside Eddie, Christopher was beginning to stir. Eddie muttered a series of foul words under his breath, a habit he’d broken for the most part, since Christopher was born. 

He looked up groggily at his father, and Eddie put a finger to his lips. Even in his slightly sleep-addled state, Christopher understood, and nodded.

“Don’t worry!” the chipper man continued. There was very definitely a pistol in his hand, pointed directly at Eddie. “All I want is your valuables. Jewelry, money. No need to panic.” 

The thief made the request in a tone so casual, as if he were discussing the weather over afternoon tea. 

Eddie raised his head and stuck it out the window.

“Sir…” Eddie started, but the man held up a gloved hand.

“I assure you, my lord, I have no problem using violence to get it.” The tone was kept light, and somehow that was worse. “But I prefer to be civil if possible.”

‘Where the hell were his footmen? Why hadn’t anyone tried to… divest this brigand of his weapon already?’, Eddie wondered.  

There were other low voices, indistinguishable but present, giving him the answer. 

“As do I,” Eddie raised both hands in playcation. “There’s no need for violence.” 

The brigand’s grin seemed to perk up a little. Night hadn’t quite settled in, and the sun’s light cast a ruddy glow on the pale skin that peaked around his outfit. 

“Then if you would be so kind as to exit the carriage, sir, we can get this charade over and done with.”

Eddie looked over at Christopher automatically. It wasn’t easy, getting him in and out of carriages, nor did he want to place his son in the way of some bastard’s pistol, but he didn’t want to risk enraging this man any further.

Eddie had seen the careless way highwaymen such as this had treated children in the past, and it made his blood cold. 

“I need to carry my son,” Eddie said, slowly reaching over toward Christopher. He took care to make  no sudden movements.

“Papa?” Christopher said in a hushed tone, looking up at him with trust laced with trepidation.

“It’s okay, my boy,” he said softly. “We’re just going to do what the nice man says.”, he reassured him. 

Christopher’s small arms wrapped around his neck, and Eddie grabbed him by the waist with one hand, maneuvering to open the door of the carriage with the other.

It was a bit of a drop to the ground, but he finagled it with ease, one hand raised to show he was unarmed. The cane sat uselessly on the carriage floor, and he wished like hell he could grab it, but didn’t want to risk it, not with Christopher in the line of fire. 

The look on the brigand’s face noticeably changed when his gaze landed on Christopher.

“What’s wrong with him?” the man asked, and Eddie was surprised that there seemed to be genuine concern in his voice, rather than the slight distaste he got from most everyone else. 

Eddie really wanted to tell this gun weilding man to take a flying leap and fuck off, but he tightened his grip on Christopher instead, and said,

“His legs don’t work well. He’s… different.” 

Different meant insane, in most people’s context. Different meant sanitariums and social blacklisting, and Eddie had worked so damn hard to shield Christopher from all of that. 

“I’m sorry.”, said the brigand.

Eddie fought the urge to raise his brow in surprise, because it sounded like he meant it. Eddie very much wanted to follow up with “Sorry enough not to rob us blind?”, but didn’t want to push his luck. 

“Father?” Christopher looks over at the man in black, and then back at his father. “Who is that?”

“Just look at me, Chris,” Eddie whispers, which is a useless thing to say, of course an inquisitive nine year old isn’t going to look away from the stranger, but fear is starting to whisper things into Eddie’s brain now.

The man very deftly slips his gun into the holster at his hip, and shows Christopher his empty hands, smiling softly now at the boy.

“Don’t worry,” the man says, “Your dad and I are just going to talk for a minute. Is that okay?”, and Christopher nods. Eddie is mistrustful on one hand and almost impressed on the other, at the way the robber handled his son, asking his permission and what not.

The man nudges his head to one side, silently asking to talk to Eddie alone.

“Kingston?” he called out to his driver, but then looked warily over at the brigand. “Could you…?” 

The man nodded, stepped back, gesturing for the driver to climb down. Eddie could see the other two now, though not enough to make out distinguishing features. Both wore black, as this man did, guns trained on the driver and Kingston. 

Kingston’s movements were unsure as he stepped toward his master, gathering Christopher up in his arms, with a quiet, “Come along, young master.” 

“We’ll keep this as brief as possible,” the man says, but as soon as Christopher is away, his gun is back out again, trained on Eddie. 

“If you would be so kind?”, He held out a burlap sack and gestured. 

“Would you kill me --in front of my son?” Eddie asks, locking gazes with the man. In the dying light, his eyes look almost ashen. 

“No,” he admits, smiling softly. “But I might knock you and the rest of your staff unconscious, and that would still be unpleasant for him.” 

Eddie stares at him a moment longer, debates with himself very briefly if maybe he could overpower this man, take out his two associates before either of them got a shot off, decided that no, it was unlikely, and began stripping the jewelry from his personage. 

Cufflinks, family crest ring, broach that was a gift from his father. All of the money he had on his person. 

One of the men began to unload the other bags, and Eddie, doing his best to retain what little dignity he has left, says indignantly, “You can search the luggage but you won’t find anything.” he looks up at the two small suitcases they have strapped to the top of the carriage. “We sent everything ahead. That’s mostly clothes.” And what he said was true. The bags were filled with various sundries, and had little resale worth. No value to anyone but he and his son.

“We’ll be the judge of that, the other man said as he and his cohort began to rifle through all of their personal belongings. They tossed the items haphazardly, scattering them on the ground.

Christopher was wearing the only thing of value. His mother’s necklace, a small teardrop pearl, set on a gold chain, dangling clear as day on the outside of his jacket. He hadn’t taken it off since she died. 

Eddie watched the lead man look over at Christopher, at the necklace, which was catching the last of the sun’s rays and glinting a little, and then turned back to Eddie.

“Grab the boy.” the brigand said, keeping his gaze locked with Eddie’s. One of the henchmen attempts to snatch Christoper from Kingston’s arms with some amount of force. 

“Papa!”, Christopher shrieks.

Kingston puffs up his chest, clutching the boy firmly to him and admonishes the man saying, “How dare you touch him you sniveling little--”, but the curse is cut short by the cocking of a gun’s hammer. 

“No!”, Eddie screams, as he starts to rush the man in black, hoping to shield Kingston. 

As he does so, he is yanked backward by the larger of the two thugs, the brute, thumping him on the head, bringing Eddie to his knees. The brigand dismounts and approaches Eddie, as the henchman drags him to his feet. 

The masked man sticks the barrel of his pistol up under Eddie’s chin.

Their faces are close enough that when he speaks, Eddie can smell the faint whiff of anise on his breath. And at this range can see the true color of his eyes, crystalline blue like icy sapphires. Something in him stirs and his face flushes, but it is not so much anger as a kind of embarrassment. A long moment passes, and the brigand sees something unspoken, almost desirous, in Eddie’s eyes. 

“Are you certain you are carrying nothing else?”, the thief asks as he uses his free hand to rifle through Eddie’s pockets. And in doing so, brushes against something hard, like the grip of a gun. He grasps at it and pulls more than once before realizing his error. Eddie grunts in a way that makes the man restraining him slightly consternate. He looks at his gang leader, who Eddie sees has gone flush in the face, himself. The brigand coughs as he pulls his hand from Eddie's pocket and turns to mount his horse. 

 Nodding to his henchmen to release the captives, he tries to end the encounter curtly, saying, “Then we shall send you on your merry way, sir.”, he said, replacing the gun in it’s holster. 

Eddie blinked. And blinked again. He opened his mouth for a moment, thoroughly confused, but then closed it again, gesturing for Kingston to help Christopher up into the carriage.

Eddie stared at the man, unsure if this was a ruse, wondering if he might indeed shoot them after all. 

The man in the mask looked down, a grin spread across his face, as he shook his head, and then looking up at Eddie again, said in a hoarse whisper,  “We don’t steal from children.”, his hand held up alongside his face, as if not wanting his companions to hear. “There is still at least some honor amongst thieves.” And then gives Eddie a wink. 

He backs away, gestures for his companions to mount up, and in the time it takes Kingston to get Christopher back in the carriage, they are galloping away across the open field, toward the woods. It’s no use attempting pursuit. Even if Eddie were armed, unhooking the horses would take far too long. Already, they were becoming distant smudges in the twilight.

“Everyone okay?” Eddie asks. The footman and Kingston both look rattled, but nod, get back onto the carriage.

The rest of the trip is uneventful, and night covers everything like a thick cloak as they pull up to the front of the manor. 

After tucking Christopher snugly into his bed, Eddie kissed him on the forehead, brushing away the curls from his face.

“Papa, will the bad men come back and try to hurt us?”, Christopher asked. 

“No my love...he can’t hurt us anymore. We’re safe.”, Eddie said, not really sure if the statement was completely truthful. 

“Why did they let us go?”, he asked. 

“Because you are incredibly brave.”, Eddie assured him, touching the tip of his index finger to Christopher’s nose. And your mother was there watching over you.” Eddie traces the chain around Christopher’s neck and rolls the pearl hanging there between his thumb and forefinger.

“I miss her.”, said Christopher. 

“I do too.”, Eddie says, smiling to hide the pang of sadness welling within him. 

“How about you get some sleep, and tomorrow we can go into town and find some ice cream for tomorrow's dessert?”, he said, seeing Christopher’s face change to one of excitement. 

“Can we get chocolate?!”, he pleaded.

“Anything you want, now close your eyes, and dream of all the new places we’ll see when you wake.” Eddie pulled the covers up and closed Christopher’s eyelids gently with his fingertips. 

This made Christopher giggle softly. Eddie got up and went to the door, leaving it open just a bit as he left the bedroom, letting in just enough light for Christopher to see, in case he should wake in the night. 

“Good night my sweet boy.’, he whispered, and made his way to his own bed chambers. 

Today was a long day, and he was bone tired. And tomorrow has its own weight to bear.

A new town, and a party to plan and a bevy of eligible ladies to court. Eddie stripped off his traveling clothes and washed with the basin of water at his dressing table. He thought again of the brigand and a tingle of excitement ran through him. He toweled off his face and  climbed under the sheets. The last thought he had before drifting off was of the thief...and those pale blue eyes.

[cinaed]

Red vs Blue Season 2 Rewatch

Well I'd meant to do my season two rewatch Saturday but was sick most of the weekend. But now I'm feeling well enough to watch and enjoy! 

Aw, I forgot that the first scene of the season is Doc's introduction. 

Church being so done with Caboose and Tucker, and the combination of O'Malley and Caboose means that his threats involve giving Church a birthday present (sure it's Tucker's head, but you know). 

Just imagining Doc's expression as the Blues explain that Church is a ghost and now a ghost in a robot makes me laugh. Also another thing is that the Blues apparently have a Spanish-English dictionary, which somehow the Reds never bothered to get for years. Sorry, Lopez! 

I love that Church actually knows military lingo and it's Tucker and Caboose who are like "???" whenever he tries to be smart in earlier seasons. Also Tucker just being like "Nope, I like my blood on the inside."

God, I forgot that Church went "I can't pronounce Frank, we're calling you Doc." Like..Frank? At least protesting over DuFresne makes a little more sense! Church really does love to mess with people. Also Doc's speech about the differences between being a medic and a doctor remains iconic. "Well, a doctor cures people. A medic just makes them more comfortable.. while they die."

I also forgot that Church just straight shoots Caboose (and actually hit him!) so Doc will go over and help him. Stone cold. "I can't believe he shot me!" "Oh, don't even START Caboose!"

Also love that the Reds have staff meetings, which Grif presumably sleeps through. Though why they all even trusted Grif to carry ammo around, I just don't know. 

And the beginning of the iconic surrender exchanges. Cake, flags (wait no flags), Lopez. Doc turning into a fake hostage. "You don't get anything except humiliation and ridicule!" "We've already got that! What else do you have?"

I forgot that Doc immediately assesses the Red Team, realizes Grif is the least popular of the group, and immediately starts insulting him to curry favor. Speaking of stone cold, like dang, Doc. 

Another iconic scene is Church ragging on Tucker as he wiggles his switch. :D And of course Sarge's amazing code is "drive." He's definitely that guy whose password is Password1235. 

Fun parallels with Donut's "I'm so freaking lost" and Doc's "Help, this Jeep is kidnapping me!" 

Lopez is like a son to Sarge! Sarge loves him so much that he forgives him for turning against him and murdering him. Also Sarge thinking he can fight a machine gun. 

Tucker: "You hardly ever used your legs before anyway. I've never heard of a grown man asking for so many piggy-back rides." Church: "Hey, I already told you: that was for science." And thus canonical piggyback rides were established. 

Bold of Simmons to call someone else Poindexter. 

Everyone thinking Church is shy because he can't turn around. 

Grif using Doc's words against him, and thus a low-key dislike of each other was born. 

Poor Doc. Stuck wandering the wilderness aka the 60 feet or however much space there is between the bases. 

Simmons and Grif squabbling like an old married couple trying to tell the story about the Blues and Doc.

I am usually against love triangles, but the Lopez/Sheila and Sheila/Caboose is so good. 

Caboose having a good idea, except they didn't consider that Lopez would immediately escape.

Ah, the old days when Lopez actually believed in the Red Team. Also will always love "Primary objectives: 1. Fix everything. 2. Hate the orange one. 3. Call mom more often." Lopez calling Sarge father! And then his brutal disillusionment as the Reds almost kill him. 

Simmons loves that machine gun. 

Lopez/Sheila is such a good ship. Love their meet-cute. Of course then Tex steals his body. Also Sheila being into Lopez AND Tex. I'd forgotten about that. 

"Tucker, there's a very fine line between not listening and not caring. I like to think that I walk that line every day of my life." 

Love Tex just rolling with "Sure, I'm a ghost." And now we're finally into the O'Malley plot which is so much fun. 

Sarge's been wanting to get a cyborg on his team for this whole dang war. He's so happy when Simmons becomes a cyborg. Meanwhile Grif and Simmons are united in hating the idea. 

Tex telling embarrassing stories about Leonard's high school years. :D And the beginning of this very weird plan to rescue Caboose from O'Malley. And seeing the inside of people's heads. Or at least Caboose's head, which means a stupid Tucker and a Church who is even more foul-mouthed than Church himself plus he's Caboose's very best friend. Sarge the southern pirate. Donut the girl. Grif's yellow armor. 

Grif sounds almost impressed when he does the 1-2-3 count that he pulled on Simmons and realizes that Donut beat him at his own game. Unfortunately then he promptly gets run over by Sheila.

"Suck it, Blue!" 

I honestly love Lopez's love song to Sheila. He's such a romantic. 

Church is such a nerd. His insults are so bad. 

And the beginning of Doc and O'Malley's saga begins. Their juxtaposition is amazing. 

And the beginning of cyborg Simmons! I still love that even if Simmons instantly insults Grif, the fact remains that he went through surgery to save Grif's life. And he sounds genuinely worried when Grif starts coughing, right up until the point he figures out Grif is using his brand new replacement lungs to smoke. And Simmons trying to get Grif to eat healthy and stop smoking. Good luck with that, Simmons...

Simmons apparently likes to dance, if his fury over the assumed cancelled holiday party is any indication. That's a prompt for someone! 

Donut and Tucker are both the romantics of their team because Tucker thinks Sheila/Lopez is sweet, he just doesn't want to deal with love triangle bullshit.

Meanwhile Lopez and Sheila go on strike for machine rights and I for one support them wholeheartedly. 

Double O Donut! I love Donut and Grif's misadventures together. 

Tucker: "Sheila and Lopez are now considering leaving to form their own robot army. They said no one would dare oppose them." Church: "What?! Did you try to talk them out of it?" Tucker: "No way, I wouldn't dare oppose them!"

Poor Donut. He has no sense of direction. And poor Doc, stuck with O'Malley for company. 

Sarge talking about the entertainment value of being tortured. Sarge...what.... I'm not gonna kinkshame, but I'm definitely gonna think about kinkshaming Sarge. 

Donut and Caboose's truth or dare scene is so cute. They're such a fun dynamic. And I really wonder what Donut was gonna say about the Red Team plans until Church possesses him. And Church is immediately super chill in Donut's head, and wants to just relax and do some arts and crafts. And Donut considers Caboose his friend! And Caboose really likes Private Biscuit.

Church trying to bargain for two robots so he can have Tex back is sweet right in the middle of a ridiculous scene. And Donut being so excited for a sleepover with the Blues. 

I'm just saying, Sarge would make an excellent car salesman the way he's messing with the Blues over these robots. And Donut must be rubbing off on him, heh, because "I've been told my lube jobs are fantastic!" is definitely a Donut line.

Church using military lingo in one episode and then a handful later not understanding military time is such a Church thing.

Finally to the iconic Tucker line of Grif and Simmons. "It's just the same two guys bickering like an old married couple. I've only been listening for like five minutes and I can already tell they're really in love. Why can't they see it?" And Church doesn't even bother to argue.

Tucker discovering Red vs Blue is a lie is still amazing. As in the ironic discussion, which I will always love. 

Donut's sarcasm when he realizes they're leaving him and Sheila behind to guard each base. Man versus tank. Should go well for him.

And set up for season three, which has some of my favorite team ups-- Sarge and Caboose, Grif and Church. That'll also be a fun rewatch. 

Time for the bonus features aka Outtakes, PSAs, and deleted scenes!

Honestly most of the PSAs this season weren't great, but the Fourth of July fireworks safety one did make me laugh. And it does have Donut with his Kiss the Cook apron!

Outtakes were okay, with the running theme of Burnie trying to explain adlibbing to everyone else, haha. Also "Great Caesar's Dressing!" is as catchy as "Great Caesar's Ghost!" And the outtake of Sarge being Hamlet. And Tarzan. And the Grif and Simmons audition tape was fun. 

Deleted scenes! Doc and Vic having some weird chemistry. Calling Doc hot and saying he missed him. And Doc complaining that no one likes him and that someone stole his wallet. Of course then Vic immediately gets mean. The others include Sarge and Grif prepping Simmons for cyborg surgery before Grif gets hurt and they actually go through with it, which mostly includes getting Simmons super drunk.  Sounds about right for Blood Gulch!

[plainvanillapotato]

the 100 diaries S3 E3

quarantine diaries: june 25 2020

season 3 episode 3: “Ye Who Enter Here”

based on this title imma just assume that this episode is gonna be hell aka Dante’s inferno

this dynamic between lexa and clarke is very beauty and the beast vibez with how clarke is give lexa ‘i wont see you’

“I can do both (hate lexa and herself) ” clarke said. We love a multi-tasker

“I want your people to become my people” ..”join me” Is lexa proposing a political marriage with clarke????

wow clarke used bellamy’s “kill me” line

clarke also said “Go float yourself”....let these kids say FUCK

Ice queen!! love matriarchy!

Yesssss Lexa you kick that guy off the ledge. this is what i like to see but also that could have really killed one of your people down below 

chill kane its just a med kit. but also watch they need a med kit but kane is like noooo 

i still dont like this relationship between bellamy and this girl bc who is she??  the writers really didnt put any effort into making me like her. Did you tell her how you injured your leg bellamy? Did you tell her that you got it trying to save clarke??

“There was no room at the inn” did pike just quote the Bible??

but also this reminded me of this office scene

look at the prince his fancy new clothes. lol when hes said “what you really want” my mind immediately when to spice girls

Humpy dumpy sat on a wall. side note How did bellamy sense that Octavia was sitting up there like people dont naturally turn back toward the door they just went threw but i guess bellamy can just sense octavia’s vibez

aww look at bellamy being a supportive brother to octavia

Echo???? damn is my bellamy and echo ship still on??

Who is this assassin?? Highkey dramatic with that unwrapping of his weapons.

waht? Raven can crack the code now? since when? since fucking when?

Ugh again with this girl. its not like i dont ship her and bellamy cuz it looks like she makes bellamy happy but wtf the writers didnt build up the relationship at all so it just feels false to me

While on the topic of boos what ever happened to millers boyfriend?? Like they talked about it and now...what where is he?

i find it kinda funny how this grounder assassin has like primal weapons but has this kinda modern, cheap ass watch that you can buy at target or one that you would get at mcdonald’s. it could have been such a meme if the assassin pulled out this relic instead

lowkey this grounder marketplace looks like star wars land in disneyland

Free food?! and kane gives her a patch but what good is that patch?? 

“Its up to the people.” we love a democracy except when majority of the population are idiots aka everyone on the ark

"aden is ready” so like do these people just base the next leader’s  readiness to rule on if they’re good enough fighters?? I guess that makes sense considering how majority of the population seem to be warriors. Lexa also mentioned something about a conclave..wtf is a conclave? 

look at lexa defending clarke against this baldy. damn she’s simping hard for clarke and its so obvious and yet baldy just suggested that she kill clarke.

also i cant help but laugh at the fact that when people finally meet wannheda they just see clarke. and ok sure she may do some badass stuff but come on dont tell me she doesnt look like a cinnamon roll

wait so what does bellamy’s girlfriend actually do? like is she an engineer or what??

yikes more neck deaths

“I’m not leaving my blade” neither would i octavia. also im curious on whether the grounders added the drawing of the gun when the space people came down with their guns because it seems like the space people are the only ones with guns that they would interact with (bc of the grounder lore surrounding guns and that they didnt seem buddy buddy with the mountain men)

ok clarke you pull that knife on lexa. but look at the intense eye contact damn. also that was such a dramatic knife drop. i gotta say that the background music during this was definitely a choice

also clarke can you please remove these ugly ass red hair extensions?

13th clan. huh? i dont like this. mostly because i dont like the world building and i just prefer bellamy and the rest of the spacers doing ‘whatever the hell they want’

ngl i thought that singer was clarke for a second. And i was like woah clarke can really sing?! but atlas it wasnt her. you know this made me think of all the other shows where they have that one musical episode...oh god i hope they do a musical scene later in the show. i would die happy. also did lexa really just hire a singer for this event?? 

How long is this assassin prepping like he’s been doing this seen the beginning of the episode?? who is his father, mother, brother, kin?? 

“how many floors”..”All of them” bitch if this mission were up to me everyone would be dead. but luckily its up to bellamy who always come thru

“Bear our mark.” when abby told kane that he should be chancellor it was more like i dont want to be marked so you should do it. jk also that’s not an honor that is a branding. and dont hate me but MARK-us because marcus kane. lol i dont care if you hate me that joke was for me. 

Yes bellamy you crash whatever this event is but also how the hell did climb up so fast! 

Are you kidding me echo? that two timing bitch ugh just when i rooting for her and bellamy she pulls this shit. 

the assassin is at Mount weather?! ugh. 

aww look at sinclair giving raven a pep talk

Oooo i called it Gina is dead. but the assassin really when for the abomin and not the neck..interesting choice. Why is this this assassin so much smarter than gina like he knew about that secret compartment and he had the codes also he got a tattoo with the codes. That’s some commitment!

you go sinclair. aww poor raven wabbling as fast as she can with that leg brace.this assassin must not be that good of an assassin if Sinclair can fight him off

Ofc they destroy mount weather. raven and sinclair were yeeted in that explosion

That stare that bellamy gave to Lexa and then that look between bellamy and clarke. ooo the tension is real

Also does bellamy know that this girlfriend just died or??? but i guess thats something that shouldnt be found out via radio

Who did Clarke’s makeup and hair or did she do it herself?? cuz it was definitely a bold choice. also the following image is not to mock clarke its just the most curse makeup image that ive seen and i love to share it with others

lexa bowing down to clarke...ship???

Is that Emerson??! bitch

[ksoap-ie]

END OF THE WORLD - AU

Rocky x reader

WARNINGS: some cursing

Oh my gosh, it’s done! I hope you enjoyed it! This fic was a c h a l l e n g e. I’m not that experienced in kissing scenes and fighting scenes - and it shows, but it can’t get any worse from here! This isn’t exactly what anon asked for, I’m sorry about that :( I know you wanted to see some scenes where Rocky becomes protective after he almost loses the reader but, who’s to say there won’t be a part two... 

Ahh idk, it depends if people like this. Stay safe everyone!

It was only a month ago when it happened. At the time, everyone saw the threats as negligible. It was just a joke. We believed that no one would actually be stupid enough to start a war, especially in this day and age where technology was powerful enough to destroy the world. To say the least, it was a shock when a missile landed in North Korea the next week. In retaliation, they sent another missile. One even bigger. One that put the surrounding continents in an abysmal state. 

I was with Rocky that day. It was 6pm and we was walking down the street, on our way back to the apartment after getting dinner together. Hands entwined; a warm sunset. It was normal, everything was the same as usual. An array of vehicles flash by, most likely headed home for the weekend. It was nice. It was relaxing. 

I adored every second of it. 

But then that was it.

It was strange. I started to feel itchy, unbearably itchy. I looked at Rocky, he seemed panicked, I asked him if he felt it too. 

But he didn’t answer.

His hand gripped mine and he started sprinting to our apartment. We were only a three minute walk away so it wasn’t long before he shut the door behind us and dragged me towards the bathroom. He let go of my hand, immediately turning on the shower. 

“Rocky, I don’t understand what’s happening.” 

“I’m not sure, but if I’m right there’s not much time to explain.” I notice he’s trembling. His voice is shaky, his eyes were darting around the room. Something’s not right. “I think there’s been a nuclear missile. Ever since the threats have been going on I’ve been doing some research to prepare for the worse case scenario. I didn’t actually think it would- oh my god.

 Okay Y/N, I need you to get in the shower quickly. I think we’re in the thermal radiation zone. There’s a chance radiation is on our bodies right now, so get in the shower. I’ll go check if the windows are closed.” 

“Are you kidding me? You were outside at the same time as me, you’ve got to get in as well.” I step into the shower and pull him in too. “We’re wearing clothes so it’s fine, lets just worry about our health now.” 

He sighs, resting his head on mine; hot breath tickling every inch of my face. Our clothes and bodies were submerged with water. I put my hand on his cheek, rubbing it with my thumb.

“It’s going to be fine. Everything will work out, I promise.”

2 months later...

The panic has finally settled. It had been reported that 1/4 of the population in South Korea have now passed. Whether they have been starved, murdered, blown to pieces, at the end of the day, a lot of people have died. A small portion of buildings were destroyed. Bricks decayed and their fragments sprinkled around the city. All electricity was shut off a month ago. No one was able to manage it due to the minor percentage of the population going out on a killing spree. In this society, it’s kill or be killed. Funny right? It sounds like something a protagonist would say in a movie. 

Luckily Rocky and I were able to text a few friends before that, the ones that we contacted survived and now we’re travelling together. We found a small house on the outskirts of Seoul. 

Unlike the buildings in the city, this one was mostly intact. The front door, was once painted burgundy, but now a rough cream wood peeks out from underneath.  We were relived to see that it had 4 surviving walls, despite having to barrier up some holes with scrap pieces of metal from abandoned cars, it was better then nothing. Inside the house, there was one long corridor with three doors and a staircase. The first door was on the right, it lead to what once was a living room. There was an ivory knole sofa. It was pushed to the side and upon further inspection, circular, brown stains were left on the arms of the chair. A dirty mint rug laid in front. A TV was neatly placed on the table, but there was a hole that shot through the screen. It created a large crack and left glass in its surrounding area. 

To say the least, whoever was in this room at the time, left in a panic. 

The second door lead to a kitchen where we found an astonishing amount of food, the third door was a bathroom. But that didn’t matter really, plumbing stopped working so it has no use. Lastly, the staircase lead to a bedroom. We ended up setting a camp of some sort in the first room. Sleeping bags became a necessity, we had 2 laid on the floor and transformed the sofa into a bed. There was also a reclining armchair in the corner which Moonbin claimed as his own. Rocky and I shared the sofa bed while Jinjin and Sanha took the sleeping bags. 

It was morning, 7am roughly, we were all sitting around Jinjin as he dug through a backpack which contained our supply of food. He placed 2 cans of beans and a breakfast bar on the floor. 

“Is this really all we have?” I ask, Jinjin nods his head in acknowledgement. He puts the food back in the bag and pushes it to the side. 

“Three of us should go out, two should stay here and defend the house.” he inspects the mood before continuing, “ Rocky, Moonbin, lets go out while Sanha and Y/N stay here. They’ll be safer, and Sanha can fight if anything bad happens - which is unlikely.”

The trio stood up and began preparing for their trip. They each balanced a backpack on their shoulders, Moonbin was equipped with a baseball bat, Jinjin had a knife while Rocky held a shotgun. Just as they were about to exit the room, when Rocky pauses at the door. His hand hovers above the handle, and he turns around, opening up a cabinet by the sofa. He pulls out a black pistol and a simple pocket knife. After inspecting them, he silently hands the pistol to Sanha before turning to me. 

He locks the blade in the handle, placing it in my hand and then wraps his arms around me. I clench the knife, feeling goosebumps, and the sickening chill of the metal, travel up my arms. Rocky’s hands move in a calming circular motion, he then places his hands on my shoulders, looking me dead in the eye. 

It brought me back to that day. Those helpless, muddy eyes obstructing my vision from the danger. 

“I know it’s scary, but don’t be afraid to use it if you have to.” Grinning, I nod my head. He reciprocates my action and finally, the three depart for their mission. 

As expected, the house became quiet. 

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Sanha says after a few minutes. 

“They’re strong.” I began, sitting down on the sofa and patting the spot next to me. Sanha sits with the gun still in his hand. “Jinjin is smart, he won’t panic if he’s threatened. Moonbin is good at self defence and Rocky used to go shooting with his dad when he was a teenager. Also, the store they’re going to is nearby. If anything happens to them - or us - we can help each other out. I don’t think we have to worry.”

We talked about trivial topics to pass the time. We joked, laughed, even danced a bit. Putting it into words like this: we acted recklessly. But it was fun and it kept us going. Despite being so sick with worry, it allowed us to digest our thoughts.

Until, of course we heard a faint murmur. At first, Sanha immediately jumped out of his seat, running to the door. Only then did I chase after him. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back. He started at me, mouth shaped like an ‘o’, eyes widened. 

“Do you really think it’s them?” I whisper-yelled, then reaching up and tapping his head with my index finger, I continued, “The voices outside... if it was them, don’t you think they would come in by now?”

If was even possible, Sanha’s eyes widened even more then before. Quickly, he seized the pistol, pulling me behind him. 

“Stay behind me. Rocky will kill me if something ever happens to you.”

Laughing a little awkwardly, I tap his back in an attempt to settle his rising tension. “Hey - don’t you think you’re being too mean? I look after you continuously and this is how you repay me?”

“Now’s not the time Y/N.”

I let out a sigh. 

“You’re right.”

The silence was almost nauseating. 

The room was full of blind spots, we had no way of knowing where they were.

My heart palpitated faster then time itself.

Somehow, every passing second felt like years - no, decades. No-

Tap

Tap

Slowly, I moved my eyes to the left. I stared at three men, and they stared back. A thin layer of glass was the only security we had.

To keep it short, they looked like thugs. The three all had black hair. The first mans hair was unkempt, one could say it was an effect of the missile.

 The second mans hair was almost like someone had stitched together patches of grass. It seems that he cut it with a knife, probably an attempt of wanting to have shaved hair so his vision isn’t obstructed.  

The third man didn’t appear to have any prominent features, but upon further inspection, he was vastly different to the other two. To put it short, he was handsome: slightly wavy hair, large eyes, plump lips pulled into a smirk. Yet, he sparked intense anxiety. He lifted a plank of wood in the air, forcefully striking the window. The glass smashed into fragments on impact. They laid like a moat, glistening by the window.

Once again Sanha pulled me behind him. He placed one foot forward and aimed towards the three men. 

“Back off. Don’t think I won’t shoot, I will. Turn around right now. If you even think about coming closer you three are as good as dead.”

“Kid,” The third one began, boldly stepping forward, “what are you, 19? 20? You look young. Your threats won’t bother me, after all, I can tell you weren’t even planning to shoot any of us from the start.”

He gestures towards Sanha’s hands, they were shaking. The other two men chuckle, also taking a further step. The big eyed man sits on the armchair, he leans back and rests his forearms on the arms of the chair. 

“You two, are you the original owners of this house?”

“What’s it to you?” Sanha retorts.

“Me?” The man tilts his head back and laughs before leaning forward. With his elbows still resting on the chair, he puts one hand over the other, almost like he’s preparing to form a fist. After a few seconds, he moves his chin towards the two men, nodding at the pair. “It’s nothing to me but if you are the owners of the house, you owe those two men money.”

Having enough of his taunts, I step out from behind Sanha.

“Money? Even if we were the original owners of this house do you really think money matters in this society?” I question, enraged. In response, the man stands up.

“A debt is still a debt unfortunately, and I think you’ll find money will become more precious then your lives when the government decides to get their shit together. While a majority, if not all of society is poor right now, they’ll still be poor by the time everything’s been rebuilt. Thus, the smart ones who collected money, are subsequently at the top of the food chain.”

“That’s sick.”

“Maybe in your definition, but we’ll see who’s suffering after this is over. Anyways-” He stands in front of Sanha, grasping the gun. “You. Didn’t you say that you’d shoot me 5 minutes ago? Am I getting a discount?”

Suddenly, the man snatches the gun. While Sanha stands in shock, he’s shoved to the ground. As he’s about to get up, the grass-haired man tackles him. They smash into the wall. When they move away, a crack is revealed, leaving temporary evidence of the incident. 

“Now you. It seems like you aren’t the original house owners but sadly, these greedy men won’t leave with nothing.” 

“What about you then? You keep repeating ‘these men’ this, ‘these men’ that. What’s your purpose? It sounds you’re not even acquainted with each other.”

“Us? Well... it’s none of your business but I suppose there’s no harm in telling you a little bit. They-” He points at the men. “-are my dogs. Whatever master wants, they have to go fetch.” 

“You sound stupid calling them that-” He forcibly grips my face with his hand, moving it around as he talks. 

“I may look like a thug but I prefer scientific terminology if you would. What term did my therapist use...sociopath? No that’s wrong...” Tilting his head, he leans closer. “Ah, psychopath. That was it. Do you want to learn more about people like me? We’re smart. We know how to get our own way, but I suppose in your world that’s considered abnormal. But you-”

He reclines, looking at me up and down. 

“You may not be this house’s owner but you should at least compensate for the time we took to travel here. I mean look at us all. This is nice, I bet you two have been stuck with each other for the past month. It must’ve been boring. Don’t you think you should thank us?”

“We never asked you to come here.” I retort while struggling out of his grip. Scanning the situation, I notice now both men are focused on Sanha. He has no chance of getting out of their claws by himself. We need to take them down together. 

This crazy guy, he’s holding Sanha’s gun in his right hand. Trembling, I tightly shut my eyes, kicked the man in the ‘you know where’, and dived for the gun. 

“You crazy bitch.” 

Quickly, he recovers, tugging my hair and dragging me away from the gun. He shoves the gun in front of my face, waving it around. 

“This? Is this what you were aiming for?”

 Clenching his hand around my neck, he lifts his hand. A stinging pain erupts through my cheek. My throat became tighter. The mans features became muddled as tears formed in my eyes. Anxiety built up in my chest. I tried swallowing, breathing in more oxygen but to no avail.

“How dare you hit me. How dare you. Even when I was being so generous, I was going to look after you. It would’ve been fun. Don’t you think so too?” A grin tugs at his lips as the words left his mouth. I could only stare at him in shock. Aggressively, he begins shaking me around.

“Hey, I’m speaking to you. Answer me-”

Clang

Our eyes meet a flickering light on the ground. The man picks it up, unsheathing the blade. It’s sharp edge pieces the skin bellow my eye. A crimson waterfall slides down my cheek.

Drip

Drip

BANG

...

I closed my eyes as my body was thrown to the floor. Oxygen immediately flowed into my lungs. It took me a few moments to just, breath. To realise that I was breathing. To realise that I wasn’t dead. But when I finally calmed down, standing above me, was two figures. The first one was pinning the second down. He was laying face down, the first figure was sitting on top of him, twisting the first mans arm. His  screeching bounced off of the walls. I realised that it was the man from before.

The first man however, was about average height, had ash-grey (obviously dyed) hair and...

“Rocky...?” I asked. 

“Y/N are you okay?” Moonbin couched down by my side. He placed his hand behind my back for support, helping me up into a sitting position. “We got back a few minutes ago.”

“I see.”

Meanwhile, Rocky had turned the man over so that he was laying on his back. Raising his fist, he repeatedly pummeled the mans face. 

“You sick bastard.” Rocky murmured, punching one last time. He moved his hands, gripping the mans collar and lifting him up. “If I catch you around her one more time, you’re dead.” 

He drags to the door and throws him out. “I’ll kill you, don’t ever come back.” Rocky spits, one last time, before turning back. 

Moonbin and Jinjin rid of the other two men after checking on Sanha. After seeing the weapons they carried, the two men hurried off to find their ‘master’.

“You’re hurt.” A voice stated. A look to my right to find that familiar face that I adored. His eyes were filled with tender and concern. He raised his hand and place it on my cheek, his soft thumb rubbing the cut, in an attempt to soothe the pain. 

“I should have been here sooner.” He whispered, chewing on lower lip as tears welled up in his eyes. I scoot closer to him. I put both my hands on his cheeks, lean close and smile. He rests his hands over mine, looking intently at the gash under my eye.

“There was no way you could have known this would have happened. Sanha and I are safe, you guys came at the best possible time.” He looked down, shaking his head with a flood of tears gushing down his cheeks, dripping onto my hands. He began sniffing uncontrollably though words.

“It must’ve been so scary, I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry, Y/N.” I use my thumbs to wipe his tears away before taking his hand and putting it on my chest, above my heart.

“This is still here because of you. Thank you for protecting me,” with a tear rolling down my cheek, I continued. “Truthfully, I thought I was going to die. I was worried that I was never going to be able to see your face again. But we’re both here together. Thank you for saving me Rocky, if you didn’t come, things would be a lot worse.”

With tear-filled eyes, we both laughed a little. He leaned in slightly, taking a quick glance at my lips while he wiped a tear from my face.

In that moment, it was like we were in our own world. His warm breath tickled my face, eyelashes fluttering and heart pounding. I parted my lips slightly; so did he. I leaned in closer; so did he. His intoxicating scent hypnotised my rational thoughts. I felt the slight stubble on his chin that’s been growing for the past few months, and his soft, warm hands pressed against my jaw, fingers running through my hair. And for a brief moment, he smiled lovingly. 

Then, his thumb grazed my lower lip, and he kissed me gently. I put my hands on his back, feeling the soft fabric of his cotton t-shirt, feeling his fingers caress my locks, feeling his mouth moving against mine. Soon after, our lips unlocked - panting. But he smiled once more and whispered.

“I’ll never leave your side, I promise.”

[mytcisanartteacher]

So. It’s 4 am. It’s also my 18th birthday. Maybe tomorrow I might expose the journal entries that I wrote about my TC. Not all, just the appropriate ones.

It’s crazy to say that I’ve actually made it to this day, along for other birthdays to come. I’ll be fishing today, playing Minecraft with friends and be kinda drunk 😵 🤭, and just have fun today. I’ll be missing my friends who are moving somewhere else for college. Kudos to them for doing that, I know I’d never.

There’s this one friend I wish to hang out with. But apparently he says he’ll be in another town for a few days and won’t be able to make it. He and I had a past, we’re trying to be friends... I guess he just doesn’t want to hang out. I could tell he’s lying. I told one of his friends if he said to them if he’ll be in another town. He said he never heard from him in a while or know any of that sort. So...

I can never stop listening to Hamilton or watching it. I can see why my TC loves it so much. During wrestling trips he sometimes played the playlist. I got an interest because I like musicals a little bit. Then got Disney+ for Marvel movies and Hamilton. I loved it so much! When I listened to it I got chills, but watching it? Oh my goodness it gave me the best chills and got a few tears out of me. My favorite songs are You’ll Be Back, mostly because it just sounds... possessive? I know the people on tiktok use it in that way. My most favorite scenes are Helpless, Satisfied, Guns and Ships along with History Has It’s Eyes on You because the chorus, CHRISTOPHER JACKSON! But Helpless and Satisfied is first favorite because I just felt everything. The way Angelica (Renèe Elise Goldsberry) was singing, tone, emotions, pitch.... gave me mega chills. Even when She was walking with Hamilton with the whole “Where are you taking me?” Oh when I listened to it first that gave me chills. With Satisfied... I can relate. I’ve liked many guys and they went in relationships or told me they don’t like me back... I went on. But I felt the way she was singing.

Usually when I watch it I like get some deep sense of the play. When watching it, when they smiled out of control because they’re realizing it’s a successful show and people love it so much. The overwhelming feeling just hits me when I see their expressions. Like the whole production is amazing! For the stage crew, the lights, music, beats, lyrics... EVERYTHING! I loved the light production when they did the scene Right Hand Man.

Adding on, the whole Satisfied scene gives me mega body chills. For a split second I can just sense that I’m there experiencing that. I felt that when Angelica would rather see others she love happy and sacrifice and bury her desires and wants sometimes. Even the part of keeping and remembering the most special thing when meeting someone they deeply love. For me... it’s his words. They’re so kind. Sure he said some things that offended me a little bit, even the one time he said something that made me feel like I was slapped for some unknown reason. But... that letter of recommendation. It’s the thing I’ll always remember from him. Even the words he wrote in my yearbooks.

My other favorite thing about Hamilton is keeping the characters main words being said along the production. Like Hamilton and his shot. Eliza is helpless. It’s the little things that make the whole show amazing.

The only scene and song that I can feel like I am in that time is Satisfied. I can never stop talking about it, listening to it, and watching it. It’s like I’m looking through it in Angelica’a eyes. I know it sounds crazy. I just feel a lot of things that I can’t explain. It’s kind of a special thing for me. If I deeply love a song/musical/movie scene then I can just feel what is going on and being there experiencing it. It’s an amazing feeling.

When I first listened to it 2 years ago. I wasn’t as deeply in love with it. I loved the music, but as I got excited to see it last month, the whole wait was worth while. The built up impatience to see this amazing production, very much satisfied me. Then seeing the whole crew making hilarious and wholesome videos before the show, after the show... or just hanging out or doing interviews. It’s a new thing I’m obsessed with.

I’ll definitely have to tell my TC about my whole thoughts on Hamilton. I bet he’ll love it.

EDIT

Ok so I’m rewatching it again even though I should be sleeping but I’m just so EXCITED AND my brain is not tired. Writing about Hamilton definitely gave me brain energy. So another scene that I love is Schyler Sisters because of their (is it harmony? Their tones together?) I know nothing about music words. But that’s my guess. My other favorite thing I forgot to mention is when Lafayette and Hamilton said “Immigrants, we get the job done” and when the crowd cheered and you see Lin just smiling at it.... YES SERETONIN. Not to forget when Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down) scene around the end when you see Lin just smiling very big... it may be just Hamilton smiling cuz the war is won but if I did something Lin did and scripted a whole musical and get the crowd clapping... I’D BE OVERWHELMED. Just being on the stage, having a successful night, the crowd is there... mega chills and immediate overwhelming feeling. It’s just chefs kiss.

I think that pretty much covered what I wanted to add on to this post.

OH and the funny thing I found is that Anthony Ramos who played as John Lauren and Philip Hamilton... the first song when he sang “I died for him” 💀💀💀 he pretty much died for him twice. Ok Ik I’m late to this fandom (by 6 years) BUT ITS FUNNY.

Edit

I just can’t stop watching that scene... when I saw Renèe on the screen, I recognized her from Altered Carbon (my favorite show) and when she sang...

I was all over it. Her voice is so strong, beautiful, so POWERFUL! The Satisfied scene.... I just can’t stop rewatching it. I just can’t. I love every bit of that scene. Everything. The parts where the lights are on her, Hamilton, Eliza. The blue lights. The whole choreography. The chorus. The background singing. The EMOTIONS! If I saw this show live, I better carry some tissues because there’s just a lot of strong emotion. It’s not in their acting/facial expressions. It’s the way they sing, the emotions, the overwhelming feeling! It’s official. My bucket list is to watch Hamilton live. But how tf can I when people can’t follow CDC guidelines! I just have to impatiently wait and save up money for travel expenses and tickets. I very much loved the part where she was clutching her stomach. Like that heart shattering feeling that you realized it was too late. When she acted in pain just seeing Eliza falling in love with Alexander more, when they talked and at the wedding. Not to mention the last look at him at the end of the song. It’s so strong.

Along with the Satisfied scene... the rewind, the background chorus (idk what they were saying but it sounded like Hey? Face? That sounded so nice with the beginning.) not to mention the way they moved in slow motion. Oooo that made it better. I can never stop talking about that scene.

[fallingin-like]

november 2

andriel into the future (series) by @dustbottle

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

these are some wonderfully written post-canon fics that make you feel warm and safe. we get to see neil and andrew’s relationship grow and strengthen. there’s neil’s year at psu without andrew, a minyard-josten rivalry fic, just some good times, coming out, and cats! there are 5 fics in this series.

missing you (is all i am)

i feel like this whole series is so iconic, and i understand why. it’s really well written and is just such soft content. as much as it’s fun to read the many au’s that are out there, it’s nice to come back and have some comforting post-canon that wraps you up like a blanket because you know andrew and neil are just out there living their life together.

parts i really liked:

”tension scraping at the back of his throat and humming distractingly under his skin. the quiet of his empty apartment… is pressing in on him from all sides, treacherous and thickly oppressive.” i really like the description that you use so well. i can imagine how this feels, you’ve put to words something that i have only ever experienced before

that the exy highlight is literally just neil. andrew is so far gone ahhh

”in neil’s absence, andrew feels strangely untethered, smaller and emptier and less somehow than he has in years.” i just really like the words you used, it is so right

that when andrew finally sees neil looking bad and immediately looks for an injury or something, it reminds me that andrew doesn’t realise how much neil missed andrew. during the novels we saw everything from neil’s perspective and it can seem like andrew is just an anchor, so it’s nice to understand that andrew, like everyone, is uncertain and unsure and new to this whole relationship thing too. i find it’s easy to forget because andrew always seems so decisive and confident, that he’s never done anything like this, let himself be so vulnerable, given parts of himself away to other people like this.

”he bleeds raw emotion all over the place even as he fights to keep it contained.” i love the imagery here

“neil says, and smiles; a dismantled gun; a knife wrapped in lace.” yes!

”’because it’s the truth,’ neil tells, trusting and honest and harsh, and just like that, the resistance breaks apart.” this feels so fitting, because truth is such a huge part of the foundation of this relationship. 

minyard-josten: a rivalry for the ages

i think like most people in the fandom, rivalry!au’s are so so fun to read. there’s something fun about being in on a secret, especially since in these fics, it’s not necessarily a secret, people just are oblivious. 

parts/things i especially enjoyed:

West! not going to lie, he actually kind of reminds me of someone i know (named Wes) who fits this character. the guy i know is really nice and chill, but has serious muscle, a bunch of tattoos, and always looks super cool which is how i picture Wes. and i like when this type of character feels awkward, it endears me to them a little bit more

great to hear of the bonding between neil and his new teammates! i imagine it must have been tough for him at first, he has to adjust because the foxes were his first team, but also his first family and that’s something you can’t just move on from.

”…[matt] keeps an impressively straight face, commenting that andrew and neil have always had a ‘unique relationship’…” i LOVE when the foxes play up the rivalry with increasingly ambiguous and wild comments. i mean they’re not wrong?? they’re just purposely misleading the public and i am here for it!

”kevin catgeorically refuses to talk about anything not strictly exy-related; when pressed, he stiffly remarks that their teamwork had never been a problem.” of course kevin tries to stay out of it. he must be preparing such a long lecture for the next time he sees andrew and neil.

the bit where neil scores on andrew and andrew grabs his helmet. they’re sO cute!! i can only imagine that it must be so rewarding for neil to be able to read andrew so well because it shows him that 1. how he is affecting andrew and making him feel things and 2. allowing himself to have a strong enough relationship with someone to recognize all these small quirks, etc.

”as he watches the other team celebrate their win, with andrew a speck of calm indifference in their midst” something about the imagery of andrew being this calm in the chaos. i think that’s such a big part of their relationship. neil knows that no matter what, andrew will be there for him, his rock, something stable when everything else is crazy. 

you did a really great job transitioning between all these scenes in such a short amount of time. going from the intensity of the game to the quiet of the changeroom, moving from having their teams and the crowd around them to being alone. there’s this distance between them when they’re on court, but when they’re alone? they’re free to be themselves and it’s so interesting to see how different and similar it is to how they normally act. andrew shows his affection in all the little gestures and neil is able to catch all of them where other people just see the blank mask still. 

the self i am

the parts i really enjoyed:

something you don’t quite emphasize, but the fact that they’re driving home. it’s clear that since they’ve been driving for such a long time, it would make more sense to fly, but it’s cute that they don’t. first, it shows just another way that neil takes andrew’s preference into consideration. second, it gives them time to spend together! even though they’re about to have a few days alone in the columbia house, there’s definitely something different and intimate about being in a car with someone for hours. there’s nowhere else to go and no way to reduce the time that you’re together (because i’m sure that andrew was speeding anyway)

andrew not smoking around daisy. although i do think that neil has softened some of andrew’s edges, i do think that andrew would be more considerate towards children than adults/teens. he knows too well how vulnerable they are and even if he doesn’t enjoy spending time with them, i believe he would do the small things like not smoke around them, or share his candy with them.

”progress is slow and not always linear, but it is there” sometimes this can be easy to forget, but that doesn’t make it less true. 

all the ways that andriel should have been obvious to the public but they were too oblivious to know (perfect format of a 5+1 if people still did that HAH you know what maybe there is one like that out there and i just can’t recall it at this moment)

”’i’ll think about it,’ he says, and it would have been a dismissal from anyone else, but from andrew it’s a promise.” i like this because it shows that andrew won’t commit to doing something if he’s still unsure about it. he still takes his word very seriously and doesn’t want to give neil false hope.

oh double fudge ice cream sounds GOOD

”winter sunlight bathes andrew in watery gold, lending his pale hair an almost ethereal glow, and neil feels, with a fierceness that surprises even himself.” i love the imagery you use in this. watery gold? yeS.

th e kiss!!! yeahhh

”kevin is staring stoically ahead, either resigned to his fate or possibly sleeping with his eyes open” I LOVE KEVIN DAY (and also the way you wrote this. so funny)

woohoo! acknowledgement that even though neil is mostly soft, he is also a knife boy and could cut you if he wanted *insert knife emoji*

i can imagine the headlines MINYARD-DAY RIVALRY?

bless the foxes and their reactions. they’re exactly what i would expect. 

neil asking if andrew wants him to sleep on the couch!! so considerate! these boys!!

i wanted to say that i like that this fic didn’t just end with the kiss, in fact that’s the middle of the fic. the fall-out/reaction of the public is definitely some of the more interesting parts, and the scenes where andrew and neil are likely dealing with the most stress

a battle, a war, a growing up

things i really liked:

hearing about andrew’s childhood! i think the idea of andrew reading harry potter is pretty fitting too, i imagine that it would be something easy to come across and that he would be the type to try and spend time at the library, either a public one or with school

acknowledgement of andrew missing neil, it must be hard for him, after trying to pretend he is independent for so long

”andrew’s mind is flat with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from beating himself bloody against the constraints of his own spiralling thoughts.” i feel this.

that andrew is still in contact with bee! and he still comes and talks to her about the big decisions he is making in his life. i think that it’s great to see how much he trusts her and wants to share himself with her, she’s probably the second adult he has been able to do so with (first being wymack).

”you have been taking care of people for years, andrew… this is not so different when you think about it.” YES THIS IS GOOD

i like the idea of andrew picking out two cats at once, of the cats being brothers and keeping them together

the first time that king sits in andrew’s lap is so soft

”there are no more sharp edges to the way he feels about neil; there is only trust, hard-won but utterly true” ugH this is so good! their relationship started as only sharp edges and things that they could cut with, it’s so great to see how time has worn them softer and allowed them to grow and live and want and love

sir! allowing! pets! bless this moment forever

YES NEIL. YOU ROAST THAT REPORTER!!! 

oh dang, i forgot that andrew being sick would likely be so similar to withdrawal that it would trigger him. i think i read a fic that explored this but i cannot for the life of me remember what it was called.

”bee picks up on the first ring, just like she always does, and andrew finally exhales.” i just really like the wording that you used, it feels so right

neil and his bandana strikes again, stealing andrew’s heart (and mine)

so nice to see aaron and andrew getting along!! i do believe that post-canon they work things out like this. they’re still rough around the edges, i think that’s how most siblings are, but they have come to an understanding that they won’t always understand each other but that doesn’t mean they won’t always support each other.

also? i just relate to this fic because i really really want a cat. this just made me want a cat more. they’re such a perfect addition to the life that andrew and neil have.

i think this whole series was lovely. the writing is really easy to read and i love seeing the progression of neil and andrew’s relationship, both with each other and the rest of the world. you have great characterization and i like the direction you took with all of these fics. it was really nice to see glimpses of their life in this last fic and it’s so nice to hear everything from andrew’s thoughts. he’s a character that keeps so much on the inside that it’s great to be able to explore what’s really going on inside of his head and see how he reacts to everything inwardly and his process filtering these reactions. this was so nice to read again, and i’d love to read any more additions to this series!!

[thedistantstorm]

Dawning Delights 06: Snowed In

Summary: Hawthorne invites her newfound family in the Tower to experience a City-Style Dawning with the family that took her in years ago. The holiday is not without it’s charm, or aggravation, and certainly has plenty of surprises in store. A season-inspired, trope-tastic story about a family forged by something greater than blood, finding reasons to enjoy the season - and cherish each other. Main Post

Pairings: Hawthorne/Zavala, Sloane/Amanda, Devrim/Marc

Updated every Tuesday/Friday & both holiday eve and days for Christmas and New Years.

-/

This plan might be the oldest of all those pertaining to this year's Dawning Holiday. Excluding traditions, of course. It's one they're both looking forward to. Something about the Farm speaks to them both. For Suraya, it’s a home of sorts, a place where she’d found her footing and risen into the kind of person she hopes inspires others to do what’s right. To Zavala, it’s a place that reminds him of the strength and resolve of humanity. From the weakest babe to the woman beside her, there is always hope. It’s why humanity has made it this long.

Their flight from the Tower to the Farm is uneventful right down to the winter weather. Zavala has never minded the cold and has always admired the snow. Light and fluffy, snowflakes fall from graying clouds. Beside him, Suraya eyes the sky warily.

"What's wrong?" He asks her. She does not look away from the horizon.

Her lips pull to the left, relaying her concern as she muses, “There’s a storm coming.”

“Nothing’s on radar,” Zavala’s Ghost chimes in over the radio, having integrated with the system in order to pilot the ship for them. “I checked before we left.”

“No offense,” She says, and she truly, does not mean to offend the droid, “But I lived out this way for over a decade. The skies look like this before they drop snow.”

“It’ll be fine,” The Ghost says. “A couple centimeters of snow won’t hurt anyone.”

“It won’t be just a few centimeters,” Suraya counters. “Believe me. One time I saw five meters of snow in two days. I was in this old stable and had to hop out from the loft.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Zavala says, though she can see him checking the sky as if he’d be able to glean something from it. 

She doesn’t doubt he has some knowledge - after all, the guy gives most Warlocks a run for their money, but this is more practical application combined with instinct than something read in a book or archived on vanNet.

Resisting the urge to point out that this is her area of expertise, that these are her lands, her sky (well, it’s not hers, but... they’ll see), Suraya turns her gaze back to the clouds and watches the horizon fade from soft gray to a stern graphite.

-/

“I’m surprised you didn’t turn around,” Tyra says, when they land. “There’s a storm coming in.”

Suraya fixes Zavala with a knowing look - something just a smidge softer than an ‘I told you so’ - and steps forward to embrace Tyra. “You know how it is,” She says, and the old Cryptarch laughs, her voice like a bell as her arms come around the Clan Stewardess in a long overdue hug.

"Do I ever," She replies into Suraya's ear, but her smart, glowing eyes find Zavala's as she says it. To his credit, the stoic facade doesn't so much as shift. He maintains eye contact.

When she steps back from Suraya, she offers him a smile. He's not one for hugging on the job. She won't force him into one. "Everyone here has been looking forward to your visit."

"I'm sure that's an exaggeration," Suraya muses.

Tyra leads them past familiar sights, into the patched up domicile she uses as her base of operations. "Nonsense. I don't suggest you go about trying to usher any of the Hunters back to the City, but-"

"Hunters?"

Hawthorne lays a hand on his forearm. It's neither hot or cold, just a pressure over the plating of his pauldron. "Whoa there, Commander. Don't get any ideas."

Tyra's milky gaze meets his, "A lot of the Hunters use our outpost as their base of operations. With the storm coming, it'll likely be a full house tonight."

"You've been keeping tabs on them?" Zavala asks, curious. "Ikora and I have not seen many of them, only the ones with a dedicated team tend to stay around the Tower."

She nods. "We do what we can. They usually pass through here or the EDZ, so Devrim lets me know if anything seems amiss and we report it to Suraya."

Zavala's inquisitive gaze trails to his partner for this little day trip with no less than a little awe bleeding through. Tyra laughs warmly, catching it from the corner of her eye.

"Of course, we don't account for that many of the Hunters, just a lot of the ones who were stationed on Earth leading up to the Red War."

"That's still a large number of them," Zavala crows back.

"Perhaps. It's all we can do to feed and house them overnight. This weather should do a bit for us, though I'd suggest laying low. If any of them think you might drag them back to the Tower with you, they might brave the storm." She motions for them to sit on the threadbare sofa - it's covered with a vibrant mismatching of fabrics - while she sees herself to the tiny kitchen.

Suraya shrugs. "I think I can keep him from rounding up any lost souls," She jests. "He'll have his hands full making sure I don't take off the second his back is turned."

Zavala makes a dramatic show of rolling his eyes. Sedately, he drolls, "And here I thought that was the one thing I could be sure of."

An elbow meets his side. They share a glance - a loaded one - while Tyra fixes tea. Her Ghost hovers silently beside her, facing the sitting area, allowing her to see everything.

-/

"It forms over the Shard," She shouts to him as the snow turns from fluffy soft flakes that drift in a barely-there wind to heavy, sharp-seeming precipitation that dances in a tempest's gale. Her cheeks are pink, and though the wind fights her every step she moves faster to reduce her time exposed to the elements. "It's not much different than a mountain, but the latent electrical impulses seem to make it worse, almost."

Zavala hums in acknowledgement; It's lost in a particularly brutal gust that blows back Suraya's hood.

The second they're inside the barn, she exhales heavily, breathing a bit harder from exertion and cold. "Well," She says, looking at the mostly empty space. She draws her arms around herself while he slides the door closed behind them. "This brings back memories."

"It does," He agrees, stepping around her to approach the battered workbench turned war-table. "I can practically feel my ears blistering from you ranting at me."

"Hurt your feelings that badly?" She questions coolly.

He bites back a smile, keeping his back to her as he runs his hand across the wood. "Not so much. You," He shakes his head, allowing himself the slightest modicum of a laugh, "Saw right through me in a way I never thought someone could."

She shrugs, not moving from the door as he rounds the table to stand at its head. "Honestly I'm surprised Ikora didn't drop me where I stood, last time we were here."

"She disliked that you were right almost as much as she disliked that I agreed that you were right," Zavala informs her. "People take time to come around."

"But they do," Suraya supposes, shivering. "I mean, look at us."

He abandons his place at the table to wrap his arms around her, staving off the chill with a silent wink of solar energy. Cool lips find her equally cool forehead when she ducks into the embrace, savoring the warmth.

"Y'know, I always thought we'd end up getting ourselves in trouble in here," She mentions as she pulls back. He looks down at her wry grin and raises one eyebrow in an arch that should be illegal.

"I don't think so, Suraya."

"I doubt anyone's coming in here looking for us, y'know…"

"I think I can live with their assumptions," He informs her, deadpan.

That shakes her out of her playful tone immediately. "What assumptions?" Her eyes narrow. "Explain."

"You know which assumptions." He looks away, suddenly finding interest in the table. "Plenty of the Guardians here assumed we were-" He coughs.

"Go on," She goads, the smirk evident in her tone.

"Suraya…"

"I know, I know." She tilts his head back to face her, cupping his cheeks and jaw with gun-worn hands. "I know, I know. How could we have become friends, much less this," She smiles, and though she's not someone he'd call sweet, this smile definitely is. Her eyes hold his in a way that makes breathing a conscious decision, "If we were only talking war strats and fighting about morals we already shared, right?"

This time, his laugh is low and smooth, richer and more decadent than a chocolate cake. "They underestimate us," He informs her. "I won't be doing anything terribly inappropriate at this table," He informs her, maintaining that serious expression that seems to be his default. She knows better, though. "But I would very much like to kiss you now."

"By all means," She removes her hands from his face and locks them behind his neck just in time for him to close the space between their lips.

-/

"There is no way we're getting off the ground. Maybe if we'd left before we checked in with the troops but even then, it would've defeated the purpose in coming here."

Zavala looks to the sky. Suraya isn't stupid, she knows he's talking to his Ghost.

"It's not safe to pilot a ship," One of the officers informs them. "We've grounded everyone for the time being. Too many ships will be coming in, it won't be safe to send anyone out in this weather."

"I am certain my Ghost could-"

"Sir, I don't doubt you or your Ghost's abilities," The man looks sheepish, he doesn't take his eyes off the satellite report projected in front of him, "It's everyone else I'm worried about."

"You'd have Amanda close down the hangar if it got this bad," Suraya reminds him.

Zavala groans, no doubt thinking about all the work he has left to do. "I'll inform Ikora," He says, and shuffles out of the command center. It's still the dilapidated house with the too-large antenna on top of it, but the inside has been reinforced quite nicely, Suraya thinks.

"You made the right call," She says to the officer, watching as his posture eases. "He'll get over it, he doesn't know how to not be busy," She jokes. "Let me know if you guys need anything, okay?"

The soldiers all agree, and she sees herself out to the elements.

Tyra's house is warm, and she sidles past Zavala, who is murmuring quietly to Ikora through his Ghost, to join the Cryptarch in her study. There are candles lit as this room does not have working power. It isn't a necessity; Tyra can likely read in the dark thanks to her heritage (Suraya remembers Zavala suggesting something similar of his own eyesight), but it's a cozy, intimate touch.

"He doesn't know when to quit," Tyra says, without looking up.

Suraya drops into a chair adjacent to the older woman. "He means well."

"He does." She closes her book. "Devrim said you two are close," The skin around her eyes crinkles. "Partners in more ways than one."

"Devrim didn't say anything. You're supposing."

"I am not," She rasps, bringing a warm cup of tea to her mouth. "I'm quite secure in what I know."

"Oh?" Suraya crosses one leg over the other. "Which is what?"

Tyra levels her with an all-knowing gaze. "He loves you."

Suraya tells herself it's the swell of the Cryptarch’s Light that makes her blush, she's close to her, can feel the latent heat on her cheeks. She swallows, but doesn't make a sound. When he says it, it sounds right. She knows it, feels it in her soul. When other people say it on his behalf, it's strange.

"Yes?"

The Clan Stewardess sighs. "We're keeping it under wraps," She tells Tyra. "Of course Dev knows, and plenty of other people, too, but this isn't something I want the world involved in."

Setting her mug aside, Tyra asks, "And if they do find out? It's only a matter of time. Though I pride myself on my curiosity, others are far more inquisitive with significantly less tact."

"There's a difference between people knowing and people being involved. I'm not-" She huffs. "People are going to find out. I'd invite you back for the holiday - we're having a fancy dinner-thing, but I know you'd just turn me down."

"You're right," Tyra agrees, "Though I heard Saladin will be joining you. You'll have to give him my best. Two old coots at a party is one too many, and I have people here I'd like to spend time with. I'll leave him to oversee affairs. Though I would like to meet Marc one of these days, provided you could get him here."

"I'd have to drug him to get him outside the City gates." They laugh.

"I think I could send you something to help with that. Devrim deserves to see him more, don't you think?"

Suraya can't help but agree. She ignores the lingering pang at not being able to see him. She hadn't been kidding about sneaking away. She was intending to go visit him, but the weather wasn't something she wanted to contend with. On the other side of the Shard, the EDZ was likely free and clear of precipitation, but the inclimate weather at the Farm could prove fatal if one wasn't prepared (and Suraya couldn't say she was). She'd have to make another go of it, visiting her other parent once the rest of her schedule cleared, after the holiday festivities were over. Maybe they'd be able to work something out to get Devrim home for a long weekend, anything.

A creak in the floorboards breaks her train of thought. Zavala lingers in the doorway.

"Ikora said she'd handle everything until we return, but from what the Tower's sat-feeds are saying, we'll be here likely until mid-day tomorrow."

"Well, good thing we planned on feasting tonight," Tyra quips, looking to the Commander. "I'll see what we can do about finding you two a place to stay."

Back to Main Fic Post 

[tinsley-goldsworth]

you live like that, you live with ghosts (chapter 2)

read on ao3 here!

Summary: c.c. didn’t expect to get backstabbed so soon and obviously, things did not go according to plan

Wc: 2411

Tw: descriptions of violence

When C.C. showed up to the abandoned building that Maizey had told him to meet at, he was surprised to find that everybody was more active than yesterday. People were milling around, grabbing at weapons and suiting up. C.C. was confused and wondered if they were simply preparing for some minor assault for later but his assumption was wrong. Gene ran up to him, shaking with excitement and energy, as if he had just drunk fifty cups of coffee, and almost yelled, “We’re doing it today! Maizey figured out the logistics and we’re doing it today!”

“Doing what?” C.C.’s heart sank to his feet when he had a feeling that he knew the answer already. Mike walked past C.C. with an eerie smile on his face and a large gun in each hand and C.C. hoped he didn’t let his fear slip through his expression.

“We’re going to take down Night Night’s gang! Here, grab a weapon! We’re all gonna attack Night Night and his men at his base in a half an hour! We’re leaving in a couple minutes! Don’t get that outfit too bloody!” Gene tossed C.C. a handgun and gestured to the outfit he wore, the one that Gene chose for him. C.C. barely had a proper, safe grip on the gun before Gene threw an extra pack of bullets towards him.

“Thanks! I need to call somebody real quick before I grab some more weapons,” C.C. offered a convincing smile before he hurried out of the building, fumbling with the pack of bullets and the gun as he took out his phone and dialed Ricky’s number. With every empty ring, C.C.’s hope that Ricky would answer started to crumble and he squeezed his phone tightly, anxiety coursing through his veins. Ricky picked up after the fourth ring and C.C. wasted no time with alerting him.

“Ricky, tell Night Night to get ready. Apparently, Maizey moved the date to today and she’s planning to attack you and Night Night in half an hour. Don’t tell him men to leave because that will be too suspicious but tell them to get ready for a fight,” C.C. rapidly informed, barely breathing between words. There was a brief moment of silence on Ricky’s end before there were shuffling noises as Ricky quickly replied.

“I’m heading over to Night Night’s right now and I’ll call him to let him know. We’ll figure something out. Keep me on call but don’t talk to me directly so I can hear what’s going on. Talk to you later.” Ricky didn’t end the call but the line went silent on his end. C.C. hid the phone in the pocket of his jacket along with the pack of bullets and walked back into the building, holding the gun in his hand. Gene’s eyes lit up as he saw C.C. but before he could ramble on, Maizey intervened and began speaking with C.C.

“So, we’re going to spring a surprise attack on them and they should be destroyed by tonight. You don’t have to worry about a lot and if you want, you can borrow a mask to hide your identity if it makes it easier to kill. We have a more powerful gang than them so don’t worry about having to face any consequences. It’s a win-win situation,” Maizey grinned, sending a shiver down C.C.’s spine. Maizey’s emotionless face was always terrifying but now that she was smiling, she looked even more intimidating than ever.

“I can’t wait!” C.C. managed another smile before he looked pointedly at the pile of weapons and walked towards it. A churning feeling started in his stomach as C.C. sifted through the inventory of weapons thinking about how one of these weapons could be the one responsible for his boyfriend’s death. He pushed those thoughts away into a corner as he decided to stick with one gun and walked over to Gene to avoid talking with other people. Gene seemed oddly excited about killing people and animatedly described how he hoped that he could be the one to rip Night Night’s head off to prove his abilities.

C.C. pretended to be listening and he knew that it was awkward for Ricky to be listening but he couldn’t exactly mingle with the other gang members or else they would start to get suspicious. He was rescued from the rest of Gene’s rant when he heard Maizey yell something about a van and everybody began charging out the door. C.C. followed them and saw that there were two white vans waiting by the side of the building. Everybody piled into the backs of the two vans and C.C. joined them in the back of one of the vans. He was crouched next to Brandon, who was strangely enthusiastic like Maizey (maybe these gang members just really had a thing for killing people), and Brandon had two giant machine guns clutched in his hands.

As the doors of the van were roughly shut, Brandon turned towards C.C. and glanced at him through his tinted sunglasses, breaking into a proud smile, “You’re going to have so much fun. Thanks for letting Maizey use your identity to get Night Night’s location.”

“No problem,” C.C. answered, gripping his gun a little tighter. So that was what Maizey needed him for. He had no idea why Maizey had to meet C.C. before stealing his identity but from all the cases C.C. worked, it was most probable that she had to learn his behavior in order to replicate his identity. He remembered that Ricky was listening and knew that his possessive boyfriend was probably fuming at Brandon’s remark.

There were no windows in the back of the van so C.C. had no idea how close they were to getting to Night Night’s place. There were scattered pieces of conversation throughout the back of the van that mostly consisted of gang members trying to describe how they planned to kill people. C.C. tried to seem excited about killing his ex-boyfriend’s brother but on the inside, he was wishing to be anywhere but with these psychopaths.

Finally, after what was probably only fifteen minutes but what felt like three hours, the van screeched to a halt and everybody clamored over each other as the doors opened, eager to be the first one to kill somebody. C.C. stepped out of the van at a moderate speed that conveyed that he was willing to join them but still slightly cautious. Maizey spotted him over the stream of people carrying weapons charging at a familiar-looking warehouse and waved him over. C.C. made his way to Maizey, successfully avoiding running into anybody carrying a weapon, and Maizey commanded, her voice a little loud so she could be heard over the sound of people’s eager war cries, “Stay here for a second! I want to talk to you before you head in.”

C.C. nodded and watched as people began storming into the warehouse. He wondered if Ricky could hear the cries of the gang members from inside the warehouse or if he was primarily hearing the cries through the call he was on with Ricky. It took all his willpower to not wince when he heard shots firing and he turned towards Maizey, wanting to go join the fray so he could protect Ricky. Instead of facing Maizey’s face, he was met with a gun, reminding him of his first meeting with Maizey.

Maizey had a chilling grin on her face as she tilted her head, looking at C.C. in an analytical way. When C.C. let confusion slip into his expression, Maizey let out a laugh that sounded scarier than an earthquake. “You really think I could trust you? I knew you were going to backstab us. I figured that I could get rid of you, Night Night, and Ricky at once. Thanks for leading Ricky to here. I know you’re on a call with him. I hope he knows that the last thing you’re ever going to see is me.”

As soon as Maizey finished speaking, she pulled the trigger and shot a bullet right through the phone in C.C.’s pocket and into his abdomen. Pain fogged C.C.’s mind as he buckled to his knees, clutching at his bullet wound. Maizey’s maniacal laughter rang in his ears and he looked up at her amused expression, too in pain to feel angry. Suddenly, there was another gunshot and red began spreading through the shirt Maizey wore. A bullet had embedded itself into her ribcage, in the place where her heart was and C.C. managed to turn around to see Ricky holding a gun.

Ricky dropped the gun immediately when he saw C.C. and ran to his boyfriend’s side. This was far worse than getting kidnapped but this reminded C.C. of the last time he had to deal with his boyfriend’s past, namely with Banjo. C.C. seemed to always get the short end of the stick when it came to wanting to help people out. Was it raining or was Ricky crying? C.C.’s vision was blurring and he was having trouble figuring out what was going on around him. There were still shouts and gunshots and as C.C. felt blood coat his hands, he wondered if many other people were bleeding too. After this thought crossed his mind, he decided to try to stand up but he only managed to stumble further into Ricky’s arms. When did Ricky start holding him? And why was it getting harder to stay awake?

He heard Ricky murmur something about how he was going to kill everybody if C.C. died and he answered back with something that sounded like, “If you do, I’m going to come back and haunt the hell out of you” before everything went black.

If C.C. wasn’t in extreme pain, blacking out should have been effortless, as it was shown in movies, but when he passed out, the pain from the bullet wound seemed to be amplified as he was numb to all other senses. He had no idea how long he had passed out for but when he woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed.

C.C. tried to sit up straighter and let out a hiss of pain as pain threaded through his lower torso. He almost gasped with surprise when he felt a hand on his knee and turned his head to see Ricky sitting in a chair next to his bed. There were a couple of bruises on Ricky’s face but other than that, Ricky didn’t look too wounded, other than his crestfallen expression.

“You’re awake! How are you feeling?” Ricky’s frown relaxed as he broke into a small smile, pressing a kiss on C.C.’s cheek. C.C. couldn’t help but smile too, glad that Ricky was feeling a little less worried now that he was conscious.

“I’m still in a little bit of pain. Where are we?” C.C. sat up straighter, pressing down another hiss of anguish as he felt sparks of pain under the bandages on his wound. He wondered if the bullet was still inside his body and made a note to ask later.

“We’re in a hospital that isn’t run by the government. Don’t worry about it too much, you’re in good hands. I was here when I was shot in the shoulder and stabbed in the chest and I survived thanks to the doctors here,” Ricky obviously was trying to reassure C.C. but C.C. was too shocked by the news that his boyfriend had gotten hurt badly before.

“You were shot in the shoulder? And stabbed in the chest?” C.C. knew he sounded incredulous and Ricky waved a dismissive hand, signaling that was a story for another time, namely a time when C.C. wasn’t in a hospital bed in pain.

“The important thing is that I’m fine now and you’ll be fine too. You’ve been out for a little over a day and I think you’re going to have to stay for a couple more so you can rest and heal,” Ricky held C.C.’s hand, an ungodly amount of affection seeping into his voice. It was hard to believe that this was the same person who murdered a gang leader in cold blood.

“How are Night Night and his men doing? Did you help them out?” C.C. asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer or not. He saw the size of Maizey’s gang and their weapons and had a hunch that the odds weren’t in the Night Night’s gang’s favor. He also felt guilty for not being able to help Ricky but knew that if he admitted his feelings, Ricky would immediately tell him that he did his best and had already done his part by going undercover. And even though he would be partly correct, C.C. was still doomed from the start as Maizey already had her suspicions about him.

“They’re doing fine. The surprise attack was a bit of a blow but thanks to your warning we managed to get somewhat of leverage. We lost some people but we’re still together,” Ricky’s relieved demeanor changed into a rather angry one quickly as he began to talk about Maizey. “But that green-haired bitch’s gang is going down. They’re still functioning without her but I’m going to take them down. She hurt you and she deserved to die.”

“Wait, you’re going to take them down? By yourself? At least ask Night Night or the Silent J’s to help,” C.C. worriedly fretted, clearly not endorsing Ricky’s plan, whatever it ensued. Knowing Ricky, it probably involved putting his life or reputation on the line and while it probably was successful, C.C. didn’t want Ricky getting hurt. C.C. had already been hurt at the hands of Maizey’s gang and he didn’t want his boyfriend getting hurt worse than he did.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you soon,” Ricky pressed a lingering kiss on C.C.’s forehead before he stood up and left, leaving C.C. to wonder why everybody was telling him not to worry when he had so much to worry about.

~ taglist: @hot-mess-writer @thesevensins-1990

chapter 3 (the final chapter) is up now!

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Best. Job. Ever 4/12

So oops, I updated this like a week ago on AO3 but forgot to update here, so you’re getting 2 chapters again, lovelies! 

Btw, this IS completely written, I’m just editing and posting as time allows.

Summary: Reader gets a job on the set of Spider-Man: Far from Home for the 3 weeks they are shooting in New York City as what she thinks is a production assistant, but a twist of fate has her reassigned as Tom Holland’s personal assistant. As she & Tom grow close during filming, will their budding friendship turn to more or will they go their separate ways after filming concludes?

Warnings: Language, but that’s pretty much it? This is basically a PG-13 rom-com.

Word Count: 2571 for chapter 4.

Author’s Note: As this was written WAY before Spider-Man: Far from Home was released (actually before Avengers: Endgame was as well) I’ve kept plot details and which scene was being shot on what day extremely vague. Also, I’m American but tried to write Tom as British as possible, although I do think he’d try to stay(ish) in character and use as much American slang as he could while he’s still playing Peter.

Chapter-Specific Author’s Note: Ik Rent went off Broadway in like 2008 or something but I do what I want, lol.

Requests are always open!

Cross-posted at AO3.

The rest of the week continued much like the first day: Y/N would show up at Tom’s hotel room at 7:15 with coffee (fortunately-- or unfortunately, Y/N honestly wasn’t sure which-- the rest of the week Tom had always been dressed by the time Y/N knocked on his door), they would ride to set, Tom would film a few scenes, they would eat lunch, Tom would get back to filming, and then they would head back to their hotel, eating dinner together in one of their rooms (usually something Y/N would run out and pick up or have delivered to her room) and hanging out for a while before parting for the night.

Saturday night had Y/N and Tom hanging out in Y/N’s hotel room eating Chinese takeout while watching Infinity War on the hotel TV’s cable.

“DAMN IT, QUILL!” Y/N yelled at the TV as he started beating Thanos in the head with his gun, causing Mantis to lose her balance and let go of her control of Thanos’ mind. “Ugh, every freaking time.”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, that’s basically everyone’s reaction.”

Y/N blushed. “Sorry about that. I just always want to punch Quill in the face right there. They had Thanos, and he comes traipsing along and ruins their chances of getting the Gauntlet off. I mean, I get that he was upset about Gamora, and rightly so, but dang, he just single handedly caused the destruction of half the universe!”

Y/N’s and Tom’s phones chimed simultaneously.

“Looks like the shooting schedule for next week is here,” Y/N said, pulling it up on her phone. “Your call times are different for each day, and it also looks like Friday will be a long one, but hey, you at least have Saturday and Sunday off before the final week of shooting.”

They worked out times to meet up to head to the set the next week and when Y/N turned her attention back to the TV Thanos had snapped his fingers and people were already starting to turn to ash. Y/N brought her hand to her chest as Peter clung to Tony. I don’t want to go. “I can’t believe you improvised that scene, but I should’ve figured that you’d quote The Doctor.”

Tom glanced over at her. “You watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N nodded. “Just New Who, starting with Eccleston, but yeah.”

“Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

“Ten, hands down,” Y/N said with zero hesitation.

“No wonder you recognized that line.”

YN nodded. “It just kills me every time, whether it’s you or David Tennant that says it.”

They talked about Doctor Who until it started to get late. “So, what are you planning to do with your day of freedom?” Tom asked as they cleaned up from dinner.

“Oh, I’m just planning on taking it easy tomorrow,” Y/N replied. “What about you?”

“I need to study my lines for next week.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Maybe I could help you run your lines? I mean, if you want, no big deal.”

Tom grinned. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

“Great. I’ll text you when I get up?”

“Sounds good.”

“Ok, well, I’m gonna head out. It’s getting pretty late.”

Tom walked Y/N over to the door. “‘Night, Y/N.”

“‘Night, Tom.”

The next morning Y/N texted Tom as soon as she woke up and got dressed.

Hey, I’m up and can help you go over your lines whenever you’re ready.

Tom texted back almost immediately. Give me like 5 minutes, yeah?

Ok, sure. I’ll run downstairs to pick you up something from the coffee shop then.

The three bubbles that indicated that Tom was typing popped up. Actually I’m downstairs right now getting something, so no need!

Oh! Lol Ok then.

A few minutes later Tom texted back. Ok, I’m back upstairs. Come on over.

Y/N grabbed her stuff and walked down to Tom’s room.

Tom answered the door with a grin. “Morning, Y/N,” he said, ushering her in. Y/N paused mid-way into the room when she saw coffee and pastries set out for both of them.

“I figured since you’ve been fetching breakfast for me all week and since I was getting myself something anyway the least I could do is return the favor,” Tom said.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Y/N replied. “Thank you.”

They sat and ate then Y/N helped Tom run his lines until he was comfortable with them.  “Wow, it’s four already. I’m sure you want to relax the rest of the afternoon,” Y/N said, getting up from the couch where they had been sitting, “so I guess I’m gonna get out of your hair so you can chill.”  She turned toward the door. “Wait!” Tom exclaimed.

Y/N turned back to Tom.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “I, err, I have a surprise for you.”

He walked over to his dresser and pulled an envelope out of the top drawer, handing it to Y/N.

Y/N looked at him curiously as she opened it, finally pulling out the contents. Her jaw dropped. “Front row seats to Rent!?”

“You can’t come to New York and not see a Broadway play. I was hoping you’d accompany me tonight,” Tom said.

Y/N was still staring at the tickets. “How did you even know I liked Rent?”

“I, err… I overheard you singing ‘Out Tonight’ on Wednesday while you were waiting for me after the set was cleared,” Tom explained.

Y/N was still shocked. “But how did you even get these? It’s been sold out for months!”

Tom winked. “You’re not the only Rent-head around here, you know.”

“And are you sure you want me to come with you? You wouldn’t rather Z or someone else from the cast go with you?”

Tom shook his head. “I figured you’d appreciate the show as much as I do. So is that a yes?”

“Oh my gosh, YES!”  Y/N threw her arms around Tom in a massive hug. “This is so amazing! I’ve been wanting to see that play for years but never thought I’d have the chance to see it live!”

“Brilliant.” Tom beamed. “I’ll be ‘round in, say, a hour so we can have dinner beforehand? I know a great sushi restaurant in Times Square.”

“Sounds great.” Y/N turned to Tom again and gave him another hug. “You are just the absolute best, you know that? I can’t believe this -- I have to go get ready!”

Y/N ran back to her room and flew through getting ready.  She put on the nicest outfit she had brought (thank goodness she was a packrat and thought to bring a decent dress!) and hurried to do her hair and makeup.

She was applying her eyeliner in the bathroom mirror when there was a knock on her door. “Come in!” she called.  She and Tom had each gotten an extra room key and had swapped them in case of emergency, so she didn’t have to go answer the door.

Tom stuck his head in the door. “Y/N?”

“Almost ready!”

Y/N finished her makeup and stepped out of the bathroom. Tom was standing in front of Y/N’s full-length mirror and caught her reflection. A broad grin spread over his face and he turned toward her. “Y/N, you look stunning,” he breathed.

Y/N blushed. “Thank you. You look great too.”

Tom had worn a similar outfit to the one he had worn the night they went to dinner after the first day of filming, except this time he had paired an open-collar button-down shirt with his sports coat, jeans, and sneaker combo. He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

Y/N linked her arm with his. “Lead the way, Mr. Holland.”

“Viva, la vie, Bohemme!”

Y/N and Tom laughed as they stepped off the elevator.

“Oh my gosh, that was so much fun. Never in a million years did I ever think I’d be able to see Rent live and in person.” Y/N couldn’t keep the grin off of her face.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

They stopped in front of Tom’s door.  “You want to come in and watch the film version on Netflix?” he asked.

“Sure! I love the movie version. Gimmie like 5 minutes though to go change into something more comfortable?”

Tom nodded. “Ok. I’ve got snacks, so I’ll get everything set up while you change.”

“See you in a few.”

Y/N ran to her room and changed into some comfortable pants and a t-shirt, and pulled on a pair of fuzzy socks to walk down the hall in instead of putting her sneakers on.

She grabbed her keycard and headed back to Tom’s. The door had been held open by the privacy lock, so she just knocked gently and went in, disengaging the lock so the door could shut.

Tom was sitting on his bed, scrolling through Netflix. A bowl of popcorn and various movie theater-type candy was spread out next to him. His hair was wet-- he had obviously grabbed a quick shower while Y/N had been gone-- and he had changed into flannel pajamas pants and a plain white t-shirt. He looked up and grinned.

Y/N walked past him to the other side of the bed and climbed in, careful not to disturb the snacks in between them. “I see you got comfortable as well.”

Tom grinned. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

As the opening credits rolled, Y/N said, “I think it's so great that most of the original Broadway cast reprised their roles for the movie.”

“Me too,” Tom agreed, grabbing a handful of popcorn.  

They watched the movie mostly in silence, occasionally grabbing some popcorn or a handful of candy, until the opening notes to Light My Candle came on. Tom turned to Y/N. What you’d forget? he mouthed.

Y/N grinned. Got a light? she responded.

Tom reached for her. I know you, you’re… you’re shivering.

It’s nothing, they turned off my heat, and I’m just a little weak on my feet… Y/N pretended to swoon towards Tom and winked.

They kept going, both really getting into character. When they arrived at the line, They say I have the best ass below 14th Street, is it true? You’re staring again! Tom blushed and was flustered when he lip-synched Roger’s line, Oh no… I mean, you do… have a nice-- Y/N thought his flustered reaction seemed actually kind of genuine but quickly chalked it up to the darkness of the room and Tom’s really good acting skills and pushed it out of her mind as she kept going.

They continued their back & forth throughout the song. They call me, they call me Mimi...Y/N lip-synched, dangling a gummy worm in front of Tom before taking a bite with a grin as the song ended.

They both burst into laughter. “Oh my gosh, that was so fun,” Tom said in between fits of laughter, leaning back against the headboard.

Y/N fell over on Tom’s shoulder, she was laughing so hard. “That. Was. AWESOME.” She wiped a few stray tears of laughter away as she straightened.

Today 4 U was just starting. Y/N nodded toward the TV. “Think you’d be able to do that?”

“Definitely not in heels, at least not without loads of practice.” Tom answered. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

The rest of the movie was spent lip-syncing along to a majority of the soundtrack -- during “Out Tonight” Y/N grabbed the remote and used it as a makeshift microphone while she danced around the room, much to Tom’s amusement -- and watching in somber silence during “Without You”.

Y/N did a fist pump when the opening notes of “What You Own” started playing. “This is one of my favorite songs on the entire soundtrack,” she said. “It’s so powerful, and the bro-hug at the end just melts my heart.”

Tom nodded. “It’s definitely a turning point in the film.”

As the movie wound down, the popcorn and snacks dwindled as well. Tom placed the empty popcorn bowl on the nightstand next to him as the finale started.

“My one complaint is that I really wish the alternate ending would’ve been used in the film.”

“Me too!” Y/N exclaimed. “I mean I get why it wasn’t used, but I like the play’s version of the ending where it ends just like it begins. And speaking of… I’m so embarrassed I cried when Angel came running on stage during the finale.”

Tom chuckled. “I think it’s cute-- err, I mean nice. It’s nice that you’re reactive like that. Makes an actor feel like they’re giving a believable performance.”  

“Speaking of acting…” Y/N checked her phone for the time. “It’s getting late. You better get some rest since your call time for tomorrow is early and you’re doing a lot of stunts.”

They stood and Tom walked Y/N to the door.

Y/N gave Tom a hug, and without thinking, also gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, shit, I'm so sorry about that--” she stammered, taking a step back.

“What?” Tom looked confused.

“Just now-- I really didn’t mean to kiss you. I wasn’t thinking, and I understand if you’d be upset about it--”

Tom shook his head. “Why on earth would I be upset with you?” he tried to interrupt.

“--and it was completely unprofessional, so I’d also get it if you’d want to request a different assistant--”

“Wait, wait, Y/N!” Tom cried. He took Y/N's arms in a firm but gentle grip, steadying her. “I'm sorry to keep interrupting you, but I’m not upset at all.” He let go & studied her. “Have I given you the impression at any point this week that I've been anything less than pleased with you?”

Y/N blushed. “Well, no, not really…” she mumbled. “But I thought maybe you’d think I was hitting on you or something…”

“First off, it was just a kiss on the cheek, it’s not like you threw yourself at me.  And secondly…” Tom paused. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I kind of already consider you a friend. You’re incredibly easy to talk to, we have loads in common, and at the risk of sounding completely pompous you don’t seem to just be friendly to me because of my celebrity status or because Sony is paying you to be. I mean come on, you’ve insisted on rotating who was paying for dinner all week. You’re a genuinely nice person and I like being around you. There’s absolutely no reason to fret, okay?”

Y/N nodded. “Ok.”

Tom stood. “Now that’s settled then, yeah?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”

Tom reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then pulled her in for a hug. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He kissed her on the cheek, then gave her a wink.

Y/N laughed. “Goodnight, Tom. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She went in and got ready for bed. As she lay there in the darkness replaying the night in her head she suddenly realized that her feelings for Tom definitely weren’t going anywhere-- in fact they had blossomed into a full-scale crush. I am so screwed.

Tagging: @thoughstofaredhead & @greenarrowhead